#so some people are gone. on lunch. and its a monday at the bank. like yeah it takes awhile sometimes

[kiddokori]

customer service is half reveling in the joy of humanity and the small connections we make every day with those around us and half holding myself back from calling people idiots to their faces

[janicho88]

Falling For You -Part 3

November

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female!Reader,  

Word Count-3546

Warning- Fluff. Mention of serial killers. Still burning slow. 

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a little backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. We should hit the one shot part around chapter 20, oops?  This story is AU, and un beta’d.  Thank you @waywardbeanie​ and @whatareyousearchingfordean​ for helping me keep these 2 characters in line and letting me bounce ideas off of you. 

 Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door.  Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to.

Series Masterlist

Do you ever notice how quickly time goes once October hits?  In a blink November is over and suddenly Christmas is here and then we are ringing in the new year.   You aren’t even sure you remember much of the first two weeks of November this year. You did remember you had been out helping Dean a number of nights.  Work was finally back under control , but you needed to get a list around to start on your Holiday baking for the first weekend of December, Thanksgiving was next week. It seemed like you couldn’t figure out which direction to go in. 

Dean had gone to see a few houses and asked you to go with him for another opinion.  Both of you fell in love with the sixth house.  It was a two story single family home, you would have killed for the kitchen.  So much counter space for baking or cooking.  It only needed a few touch ups here or there, maybe some new paint in some of the rooms eventually, but it was move-in ready.  The previous owners already moved out of town and took all their belongings with them.  Dean had been working with a bank to be approved for a loan before finding the house, plus he had saved what he had when his house sold.  The closing was done by Friday the end of the second week.

While Dean was busy finalizing paperwork on his house, you were at your desk on your lunch hour looking through pinterest for new cookie or bar ideas. A familiar voice sounded behind you.  

“I’m back bitches!”  Turning around you saw the fiery redhead who was in charge of IT for the company.  Charlie used to work out of this office, but they had moved her to the new clinic that had opened an hour away for the last two months.  

“Things are running smoothly over there, two weeks without any problems, I get to come back to you guys now.”  She walked over to her familiar work area and tapped the Hermione figure sitting by her monitor and asked if she missed her.  “So what have I missed here?”  You and Monica filled her in, and introduced her to Anna when she came back.  The rest of the day passing fairly quickly. 

Making a quick dinner that night you received a phone call from your mom.  Her older sister had fallen and hurt her hip.  She wasn’t going to be able to travel down for Thanksgiving, so your parents were going up there.  This way your mom could help her around the house and with the meal.  Your cousins were a bit lazy, they weren’t going to do it.  She asked if you wanted to go with them, and after thinking about it for a moment, told her not to worry about you.  Your aunt's house wasn’t very big, and some other family was going up also.  That was going to be too much close family togetherness for you.

 Wiping down your counter you heard a tap at the door, slipping on shoes and grabbing your purse you headed out.  Jess and Dean were out in the hall waiting for you, the two of you offered to help Dean clean tonight before things were moved in tomorrow.  Sam was working a big case and stuck at work this evening.  The house was in good shape, it just needed a good pre move in clean.

“So Dean,” Jess started talking when you got in the car.  “Since you are going to have the most room, how about you host Thanksgiving next week?”

“What?”  He was a bit caught off guard by that.

“Your parents are coming up, so are mine, that’s seven of us in our apartment trying to cook a big dinner, you have a huge new kitchen and a dining room.”

“One, do you really trust me to make Thanksgiving dinner?”

“I didn’t say you had to make it all, we’ll help, you just have the space to have it at.”

Sitting at a red light Dean closed his eyes and let out a sigh, “If we can have the house usable by Tuesday, fine.”

“Good, Sam also told your parents they were staying at your house.”  Rolling his eyes Dean knew it was pointless to respond.  Jess turned in her seat to see you in the back, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Y/N?”

“Usually we go to my grandparents, but my mom called tonight and my aunt got hurt so they are all going up to her house.  I’m just going to hang out at home, watch the parade, and be lazy.”

“Apparently I’m hosting Thanksgiving, come join us.”  Dean offered, glancing at you in the back.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be, Sam already did that when he has people staying at my house that I’m not even living in yet, without telling me.”

“Okay, if you are sure, thanks.  Just let me know what I can bring.”

“Pie, lots of pie,”

Dean had already taken cleaning supplies over to the house and the three of you decided to divide and conquer.  You took the kitchen and dining room, Jess and Dean split up the two upstairs bathrooms and the master bedroom and one of the guest rooms. Whoever finishes first would start in the living room.  These rooms would be used for his parents' visit and Thanksgiving, the other rooms would be tackled if there was time.  Walls, windows, doors all scrubbed down, floors vacuumed and mopped, kitchen cupboards all wiped out.  It took you guys a few hours and everyone was beat when you headed back to the apartment building.  Sam and Dean were renting a uhaul in the morning to get Dean’s stuff from storage, you made plans to ride over with Jess to help unpack. 

Back in your apartment you looked to see what you could whip up to take with you for breakfast.  Normal cinnamon rolls would take too long, and you didn’t have the energy, but cinnamon biscuits were doable.  You made a double batch, and prepped the icing.  Figuring you would warm them in the morning and top them then.  

Dressed in a comfy old t-shirt and worn jeans sweatshirt sitting with the biscuits,  you were ready when Jess came to get you.  “Oh my, what is that smell?”

“I figured we would be working up an appetite today, so I brought breakfast rolls. Do you want one for the road?”

“Uh, yes please.”  Both of you laughing, she grabbed one out of the container while waiting for the elevator.

“Yep, Dean’s right.  Girl you can bake.”

The guys pulled up with the uhaul just as you were getting out of the car.  “Ready to start,” she asked.

“Not really, you?”

“I wish I was back in bed.”

“What are you two laughing at?” Sam inquired leaning down to give Jess a quick kiss.

“Just wishful dreams,” she told him.

Dean unlocked the house while Sam opened the truck.  They let you and Jess take some boxes, while they moved some of the furniture that came on this load.  Thankfully Dean had somewhat labeled the boxes as he packed so you knew where to drop what.  His labels gave you an idea on what was important to the man: kitchen crap, bathroom junk, living room stuff, bed things, other room bed things, you just didn’t know what was in each of those boxes, but clearly knew what was in the VINYLS, TOOLS, and MOVIES boxes.

Dean had kept most of the furniture from his old place, but did have a few new things coming.  Such as a master bedroom set, and new couch and dining room table. Those were going to be delivered Tuesday.  Jess told you he didn’t want things that reminded him of Lisa, so he sold anything that did when he moved.  

Cas came over to help in the early afternoon, bring some pizzas as an apology for missing the morning work.  The biscuits you made long gone.  Things were coming along nicely, Dean wasn’t super picky on where things went right now.  Dean gave you the job on organizing the kitchen, he said you would know best.  His only request being the coffee items were close to each other and easy to get too.  He would figure out where you put anything else later.  Placing his old coffee maker next to the plug between the sink and refrigerator, the glasses and mugs in the cabinet next to the sink and and coffee and filters above the machine. 

Jess was helping Sam set up the guest bedroom and washing the sheets for that room and Dean’s once his bed arrives.  Cas and Dean ran the wires for his tv and speakers for his record player.  Dean deemed those two things most important.  Everything was out of storage and into the house Saturday evening, put away was another story.  You offered to help on Sunday, but Dean said he wasn’t going to work on it then, taking one day of the weekend not to work and unwind a little.  He still had a few things at Sam and Jess’ place to get packed up at some point.

Thanksgiving week was always a nice work week since you were only open 3 days.  Monday and Tuesday evening you had helped at Dean’s and it was ready for Thanksgiving, his parents were arriving sometime Wednesday. 

When you left his place Tuesday night you headed home alone.  Dean was all moved in, he was out of the apartment across the hall.  It made you kinda sad to think about.  It’s going to be weird not running into him in the hall, or have him randomly come over when he was giving his brother some space.  

You opted for staying home Wednesday night instead of hitting the bar with Charlie and her friends, and decided to get the pies made.  You went with two traditional pumpkin, and one apple since Dean liked the last one so much.  When you were at the store you also picked up the ingredients to make a strawberry pretzel jello.   

Thursday morning you watched the parade in comfy pj’s on your couch with a glass of hot chocolate.  Unlike Dean coffee wasn’t your thing.  But with the chilly weather you liked something hot in the mornings. When it was warmer you would enjoy your weekend morning drinks on your balcony.

Dinner was supposed to be at two, but you headed over before noon to help with the preparations.  You put on leggings and a long sweater, Jess had told you it was more about comfort than fashion today. 

It was your turn to knock on Dean’s door for once, a pretty blonde woman answering the door.  She had a big smile on her face that turned to surprise when she saw you.

“Hello, can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.  Dean and Jess invited me, I came over early to help with dinner.”

“Hey Y/N!”  Dean came up behind her with a big smile on his face.  “Come on in.”

“Hi Dean, I came to help, brought pies, pumpkin, apple, and a jello”  

“You don’t have to help,” he said while ushering you inside, “you did that enough with moving this week.  Y/N this is my mom Mary, mom this is Y/N.  She actually lives in the apartment across from Sam.”

“Nice to meet you dear.  I’m sorry, I was expecting Sam at the door, I didn’t know anyone else was coming.”

Getting to the kitchen Dean opened up the pies and you saw him hide one of them in the cupboard.  Shaking your head, you look around at the food out on the counters.  

“What kind of jello is this?”  Dean asked looking at the cake pan you set down.

“It’s a pretzel strawberry jello or some people call it a salad.  I didn’t think you would be too fond of that term though.”

Dean looked at you before looking back down, “Pretzel jello?  I see the jello and strawberries, and something solid under that but it doesn’t look like pretzels.  Where’s the salad part? What are you trying to feed me sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head “There isn’t actual lettuce in it Dean, this time salad is referring to a side.  The solid layer is cream cheese cool whip mix, the Pretzel is the baked crust.  It’s a combination of salty and sweet.  Just try a bite, I’m not trying to sneak anything past you.  I promise it won't hurt you as much as Sam's veggie bacon.” 

Dean's face grew serious, “I thought we agreed that we don't speak of that fraud, it's not bacon. I need actual meat.”

Laughing you pat his back, “I know, I'm sorry. Now you have your own kitchen to cook real bacon.”

“Yeah or I could come to yours and let you do the work.”  He said with a smile your way

“You are always welcome at my place.”

“Now that we are done discussing the jello, what do you need me to do?”

“Y/N, seriously you don’t have to help.”

“I want to, I like cooking almost as much as baking.”

Dean moved over to the list of food Jess had made up the other day, “Turkey is stuffed and in the oven, potatoes are boiling,  the corncake hasn’t been started yet, neither has the salad, rolls are just waiting to bake.”

“Well Sam wanted the salad so he can do that, I’ll get the corncake going and in the oven.”

Sam, Jess, and her parents arrived a short time later.  The guys all ended up in the living room watching football and left you four ladies in the kitchen.  Mary started to ask Dean where his mixer was, but he told her to talk to you since you organized the kitchen.  While working on last minute touches Mary turned and looked at you.

“How long have you and Dean been dating?”

Jess started laughing while you stuttered out an answer, “Oh, uh no we, we aren’t, we’re just friends.”

“They are both in denial about having any feelings for each other.”

“Jess!  There are no feelings to be in denial about, we’re just friends, that’s it.”

“I’ll let you know when they catch up with what the rest of us know, Mary.” You turned back to setting the table shaking your head at her.

Dinner was great, and the conversation was even better.  Dean’s dad was a little intimidating at first, but grew on you as the meal progressed.  Dean sat next to you and before he took a bite of his jello he picked up the bowl and looked it over and made you promise him he wouldn’t regret it.  He took his time chewing, bobbing his head around while you awaited the final verdict.

“It’s actually pretty good.” You just gave him a little nod, holding back your laugh at his behavior before going back to your own food.  

The guys migrated back to the television after a while, and the four of you cleaned up.  Dean came in a few times, but you sent him back out.  When the first game ended the men came back for dessert.   Jess brought out pumpkin bread and apple crisp her and her mom made and Dean carried the pies over.

“Y/N made pumpkin pie,”  Dean told the others.

Leaning over to whisper in his ear, “You keeping the apple for yourself?”

Giving you a little grin he nodded,  “You know it sweetheart.”  Laughing you didn’t notice Mary watching your exchange across the table. 

 Looking through the ads with Jess you made plans to go out with her and her mom the next morning.  Mary was watching the two of you, and you asked if she wanted to join. Jess quickly looked up and told Mary how much fun it would be if the four of you went together.

Sam tried to talk everyone into playing a new game he picked up. When he finally got everyone, even Dean to agree to join he went out to the car to retrieve it.  Coming back in empty handed swearing he put it in the car, but unable to find it.  He went looking through some of Dean’s things for the deck of cards he swore he didn’t have striking out again.  Dean told him if he wanted to play games he needed to host Thanksgiving and went back to watching the football game.  Jess was sitting beside you unusually quiet the whole time.

“Did you know he forgot the game?” You whispered to her.

“He didn’t forget it, who do you think took it out of the car?”  Quickly covering your laugh with a cough she continued. “It was a trivia game about serial killers that used a courtroom type setup.  The box said something about cross examining, objecting and redirecting.  It seriously wasn’t happening, I get enough lawyer talk at home.”   

At five am the next morning you decided Jess had too much energy.  She had you leaving the apartment building by 3:30, then picked up Mary before hitting the mall.  You drove the 40 minutes to Ann Arbor because Jess wanted to go to the bigger mall.  Luckily the temperature was in the high 30’s this morning and you didn’t have to wait outside long.  There are years you have stood outside in the snow waiting to get in a store.

You had a few things on your list, but no clue for some people.  You weren't great at coming up with gifts, especially at this hour. You walked past one store front before stopping abruptly, and Jess walked into your back.

“Sorry, I wasn't thinking.  I’m going to run in here real quick, I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.”  The display in the window made you think of Dean and you went into get him a house warming present.

Stopping in the food court for a break later, Mary had a question for you, “Call me crazy, but didn’t you say something about apple pie yesterday when you arrived?”

You started laughing, “ I did, Dean apparently hid it when he took it to the kitchen.  He had some last time I made one and decided he didn’t want to share this one.”

Mary was talking to you more about Dean.  “He seems so much happier now than when he left.  He was in a dark place for a while, that girl hurt him bad.  I ran into her in town, and she had the nerve to talk to me like everything was fine.  I gave her a piece of my mind and John had to pull me away.”  She paused for a minute before continuing, “Dean has mentioned hanging out with a new friend a number of times I’ve talked to him.  I think that person has made a big difference in his happiness, and I hope they stick around for a long time.” 

You weren’t really sure what to say, you gave her a little smile, and told her Dean was an amazing guy who didn’t deserve to be treated like he had been. 

After running errands on Saturday you stopped over at Dean’s.  He was surprised to see you at the door and invited you into the living room where he was talking with his parents.

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to drop something off.”

“You’re fine sweetie, you aren’t interrupting anything.  We were just chit chatting, but we should actually start to get some of our things around.  We fly out tomorrow morning.  John, we should go pick up the room, and pack what we don’t need tonight.”

“I did that earlier.’

“Well you should double check it, just in case.  You two talk, we’ll be back later.”  Pushing John out of the room they headed upstairs.

“I didn’t mean to chase them away, I just wanted to drop off your house warming gift.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to get me anything.  Your help was a huge present,”  Dean told you, taking the wrapped box out of your hands.

“I wanted to, just open it.”

“Oh Sweetheart, she is a beauty.”  You had gotten him a new Keurig coffee maker, this one could make a whole pot, or a single pod.  He mentioned he had been fighting with his old one, and you knew how important coffee was to him, especially in the morning.  

“This way, you can make yourself a single cup if you just can’t wait for the whole pot to finish, or if you want one later.”

“This is great, thanks Y/N.  You did well, especially for a non-coffee drinker,”  he finished with a teasing grin. 

“I should get going, let you enjoy your last night with your parents.”

“You don’t have to, Sam and Jess should be over soon, her parents left today.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to interfere with family time.  Tell your parents it was nice meeting them, I hope they have a safe trip back.  I’ll see you around Dean.”

Part 4 

Thank you for reading!

Tags  @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth @anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83 @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002

Falling For You tags- @halesandy @abuavnee​ @hearteyes-j2 @vicmc624 @440mxs-wife @wonder-cole  @maralisa124

[klynn-stormz]

Written in the Stars

Hi everyone! Today is my day to drop my January Joy fic!! It was only supposed to be a one shot, but that didn’t work out so well, lol. I have split it into two parts and the second part should be posted within the next two weeks! So without further ado, here we go, I hope you enjoy it!

AO3: 1 |

Summary:  Emma Swan is enjoying her small town life in Storybrooke, a place where she can raise her son, practice her magic, and lead a relatively normal happy life. What she doesn’t expect is Killian Jones moving to town for business and turning her quite life up on it’s head. She’s not about to let some stranger interrupt it, easier said than done when everyone, including her magic, seems to push them together 

Part 1:

The snow-covered meadow glimmered under the full moon, a layer of untouched smooth snow had crossed the expanse of the forest Emma had walked through. There was something about the way the new snow shined brightly against the dark wood of the trees that made her think she had gone through a portal to a new enchanted realm. Under the watchful eyes of the moon and stars, Emma made her way to the middle of the meadow and took a moment to breath in the cold air. This was her favorite time, the sun had set long ago, the sound of the night animals was quiet and soothing, and not another soul was in sight. This was a time when she could be herself. She set her basket on the ground, it was already brimming with the herbs she had collected from the forest, and brushed the hood of her silvery white cloak off her face, then went to work on her favorite ritual.

 The set up was easy; the symbols drawn in the snow, much easier than in the dirt in her opinion, the herbs needed laid on the outer circle, she stood with a goblet in the middle and uttered the enchantment into the still night. It was a little later this year than she normally preformed, but her duties in town kept her busy until nearly 10 days after the New Year. Henry had finally put his foot down and insisted she preform it tonight, seeing that it was affecting her so. Preforming it late wouldn’t stop the renewal ritual from working, as it always did, she had just felt off until she was able to perform it. The coven in town had performed one on at midnight of New Years, but she rarely participated in the coven activities, preferring instead to keep to herself.

 Storybrooke was the perfect place for her and her son, from a young age her abilities had made it hard to stay in one home long. Left on the side of the road as a newborn she had been sent through the foster system, placed in families until her powers scared them to much for her to continue living there. Many hardships and trials had been sent her way, and each time she picked herself back up again. Eventually ending up in a quiet town of Storybrooke, finding others who practiced as she did. She wasn’t close to many of them, but they and all of Storybrooke had snuck their way into her heart and become family. Henry had taken to Storybrooke quickly, finding friends on the first day of school and worming his way into the hearts of all of the people there. His happiness at their newest home was what sealed her decision to stay, he needed stability and he needed a real home. Now, 5 years later, they were well settled in.

 The ritual completed, the spell seemingly hanging in the frigid air, Emma breathed a deep sigh of relief. A feeling of comfort washed over her as the cleansing and renewal ritual did its job. She carefully picked up her basket and walked to the edge of the meadow, waving her hand the grooves she had created in the snow disappeared as if she had never stepped foot there. Making her way back through the woods to a cozy cottage at the end of town, one she was lucky enough to have a view of the forest and the ocean in, she could never have realized how the new year would change her life.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You’re completely blowing this out of proportion!” Ruby complained.

 “I’m really not.” Emma rolled her eyes while popping an onion ring into her mouth. She was having lunch with a few of her friends at Granny’s. Ruby was insistent on talking about the disaster that was Emma’s dating life, a topic that seemed to be a favorite among her, Mary Margaret, Ana and Elsa. “I’m not doing it again; I will not go through another Walsh incident.”

 “That wasn’t my fault!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, flushing slightly. “How was I supposed to know that he was a creep? He seemed so nice as the bank! Besides, I’m sure that this new man, his name is James, will be much different.”

 Everyone at the table stared at her till she muttered something about Emma becoming an old maid. Normally Emma would be put off and make them promise to stop setting her up, this would be met with mumbling and no eye contact. Normally. Today was different though, it was a cold fresh February morning, and there was something in the air today that made her feel content and almost… safe. It was a rare feeling for her, even in Storybrooke she rarely felt that way. She wasn’t quite sure she could trust the feeling, not one to get her hopes up.

 “I think we should get back to talking about Ruby’s date.” Elsa suggested. She was reserved, much like Emma, while her sister Ana was the most people person Emma had ever met. She gave Mary Margaret a run for her money on talking and gossip.

 “I’d rather talk about the new ship that just sailed in!” Ruby deflected.

 “Storybrooke has a fairly large port, why would a ship be anything special?” Ana paused, then hurriedly continued. “Not that ship isn’t special, I mean everyone is special so that must make it sort of special. Although, if everyone is special no one is right? Wait no, that’s from the Incredibles isn’t it, I need to stop falling asleep watching movies. What I’m trying to say is what makes this particular ship interesting? I’m sure it’s very interesting, but we do get ships in and out of port all the time, and they are all interesting too, especially the ones that trade in magic, but you never want to talk about those ones. I think that we need to discuss—”

 “Okay, that could go on for awhile so I’ll just answer your question now. The Captain and his brother are major hotties and we definitely need to find out more about them.” Everyone at the table was aware that once Ana got started it was best to interrupt her before they spent an hour listening to her ramblings. The current record was actually an hour and twelve minutes before they couldn’t take it anymore.

 “Of course, it would be because you think they’re attractive.” Elsa rolled her eyes at Ruby’s wiggling eyebrows.

 “Oh, believe me, if I wasn’t in an exclusive relationship, I would eat them up.”

 “I knew it! I knew you and Victor were finally serious.” Mary Margaret’s gleeful cry made Emma’s ears ring.

 “As fun as this is, I better get back to work.”

 “Emma you’re the sheriff you can make your own hours, it’s a Monday, nobody wants to work on a Monday!” Ruby whined.

 “And as the sheriff, it’s my responsibility not to spend three hours talking about potentially hot newcomers at lunch and instead protect and serve.” She responded drily. Turning towards the door, she was met with a loud chuckle and vivid blue eyes staring into hers.

 “I assure you, love, I wouldn’t mind if you continued to talk about my attractiveness.” The man gave her a grin that might have stopped her heart, she wasn’t quite sure at the moment, to lost in his eyes. His dark hair brushed over his forehead, she wanted to run her fingers through the strands and brush her palms against the stubble lining his jaw. When she got ahold of herself, she prayed that she hadn’t been staring to long.

 “As I said, I have better things to do.” She sniped, her defenses up, even if they felt different. Normally her magic would be on edge with a stranger near her, but now it seemed to lean towards him.

 That was ridiculous, she was just imagining it.

 She hoped.

 “Well, then it’s best I introduce myself to the law enforcement of this lovely town. Killian Jones at your service.” He bowed slightly and her eyebrows went up.

 “Planning on needing the Sheriff’s department anytime soon Mr. Jones?”

 “Only if the Sheriff is the one to respond.” His wink sent a shiver through her that she worked hard to keep hidden.

 “Emma Swan then,” Forcing her voice to sound clipped and uncaring. He reached down and took her hand; the reaction of her magic was immediate. Bursting around her in little near fireworks that only she could see, she panicked and attempted to reign it in. Her magic never showed itself to other people unless she willed it to; not even Mary Margaret, Ruby or Elsa had ever seen it, though they knew she had it.  He didn’t help any by lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The magic continued to burst around her until he dropped her hand.

 “I should be going.” A quick mumble and a nod of her head was the last thing he saw before she rushed out the door.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 For the rest of the day Emma stewed over her magic, it had taken her a long time to come to terms with what she was, and even longer to learn to control it. As light magic was magic that was inherited and based on emotion, it was harder than dark magic. While dark magic took practice, research and patience, it did not require emotion; Emma’s magic was some of the strongest that Storybrooke had seen in a long time and they relied on her control over it to keep their little town off the radar of those who would exploit it. The local coven worked hard to protect the town, and expected her to do the same.

 She needed to know why her magic reacted differently to him. A flash of Neal went through her mind and her stomach curled at the memory. A man who had taken advantage of a young girl all alone in the world, who had made her believe she was special. The only good thing she had gotten out of that relationship was Henry, and Henry would always be her top priority.

 “Hey mom!” Henry barreled through the door, eyes bright and full of his adventures from school. Her shift finished, she grabbed her jacket, phone and radio, and hugged him.

 “Hey kid, ready for some dinner? I was thinking pizza.”

 “Works for me! We have a new project in English, we get to write a short story.” He dumped his backpack on her desk, then sheepishly picked it up at Emma’s raised brows. “I was thinking I could interview you about some of your magic and—”

 “How about we get some dinner, go home and you can tell me your story over dinner?” Emma asked, grabbing the phone to order.

 Later at their apartment, while they ate their dinner and had the tv playing in the background, Henry told her about his idea. He had gotten nearly to the end when he paused. “I don’t want to spoil the whole story for you.”

 “I thought your teacher said you were supposed to write a short story kid.” She teased him, impressed with his imagination. He’d always had such a wonderful view of the world; Emma was pretty sure she would be buying copies of his books one day. “Why do you need to interview me?”

 “Well, if the princess, Evil Queen, and Dark One are going to have magic I need to know how to write it! I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

 “Alright, tell you what. You get all of your homework done on Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday we will go through a few basic.” He grinned and hugged her tight. When he was all tucked into bed and Emma was reading in her room, she couldn’t help but think of blue eyes and dark hair. Her magic sparked again, a light skittering across the room. She would worry about everything tomorrow. Banishing thoughts of him, she willed herself to sleep.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Killian Jones had seen much of the world in his days, he had seen wonders and mysteries, magic and mayhem, good and bad people, and most everything in-between. As a Captain in the Navy, before he lost his hand in a tragic storm that he nearly lost his brother in, and as a sailor building a business with his brother when they left the Navy. He had been everywhere he’d ever dreamed. Yet, none compelled him as much as the blonde haired, green eyed sheriff that had magic bursting around her as he kissed her hand.

 He’d heard the lasses at the table talking about him and his brother. The long-haired brunette excitedly exclaiming their attractiveness and looking for gossip about them, while the blonde goddess rolled her eyes and looked for an excuse to leave. Seeing her had nearly stopped his heart, he was quite sure of that, only to have it pounding in his ears when their eyes met and time stopped. He could have stared into them forever, wanting to lean closer and brush his lips over hers. He wanted to gather her in his arms and find a private room to kiss her till neither could breathe, after all he wouldn’t need air so long as he had her. He was brought back to himself by the sound of her voice, a bored tone with a hard edge, as if she was putting on a show with it.

 Her eyes shined out at him and he was sure she felt the same as he had, though he was no less embarrassed at where his thoughts had gone immediately. He reigned himself in, flirting just enough with her to get her name. Emma Swan. Fitting, he mused, she had the elegance and grace of one, with high enough walls he knew he’d get pecked if he pushed.

  He didn’t think he’d mind much.

 The moment his lips touched her hand, the white sparks of magic had lit around them, fascinating him. He would have asked her what they were, but for the panic in her eyes when she realized what was happening. He pretended he saw nothing; it could wait till a later date. He had a feeling it would be long till the next meeting.

 When she was gone, he’d ordered at the counter, found a table and waited for his brother. All of his thoughts revolved around Emma.

 “She’s totally single you know.” Came a voice from behind. He turned in his chair to see the group of woman Emma had been with staring at him, a little bit of mischief in their eyes. The one who spoke gave him a wolfish grin. “In case you were wondering.”

 “The sheriff?” He clarified.

 “That’s the one, utterly single and refusing any sort of set up.” The woman with a pixie hair cut and the kindest eyes he’d every seen, replied. “She’s naturally suspicious of people, so you’d have to try pretty hard if you wanted anything to happen.”

 “That is,” Now a woman with frost in her hair and ice in her voice spoke up. “If you’re planning on sticking around.” He smiled at that.

 “My brother and I recently moved our business headquarters to this town, as it’s a good port and unique. We’ll be here for a long while.”

 “Oh that’s just lovely! Emma takes awhile to warm up to people, but you’d definitely want her on your side since she’s the sheriff. Just don’t break any laws and annoy her and you’re good to go.” The final woman had a voice that sprinted instead of walked, he wasn’t sure her mouth was even moving at the speed the words came out.

 “Thank you, ladies, for the advice. I’ll take it into account.” His brother walked through the door then and he was distracted greeting him, nodding a farewell to the women as they left. He smirked slightly when the icy woman ran into his brother and uttered a quick apology, the moment couldn’t have been more than ten seconds and his brother looked starstruck. Looks like they’d both have better reasons to make Storybrooke their new home.

 Liam and he spent the next hour going over some of the logistics of moving the company. It was almost done, the last thing to deal with was selling the old building they’d had back in England. The move to Storybrooke would be better in the long run, while the port wasn’t as big as the one they’d been at, most of their business and suppliers were closer, saving them money in the long run, and they’d just signed three new contracts with new contacts.

 Having heard of Storybrooke’s… unique circumstance, they were drawn to wanting to experience it for themselves. Their mother had been open about her magic from the time she had met their father, he had never really liked it, but dealt with it to be with her. She raised Liam and Killian to believe and practice as well, and though she had died when both were still young, her lessons had stayed with them when their father did not. Neither Liam nor Killian practiced regularly, feeling there were others much more talented that could keep the balance better. However, they preferred a place where they felt comfortable and free. Both had stepped off their ship onto the Storybrooke dock and could feel the rumors had merit. There was magic here, and it seemed to welcome them.

  “Well little brother, it’s time to find some housing I believe. I’ve scheduled a meeting with a realtor tomorrow who will walk us around some of the houses they have here.” Liam clapped his brother on the back, heading towards the back that led to the Bed and Breakfast rooms they’d booked for the week.

 “You mean younger brother,” Killian corrected. “and as long as you know I’m getting my own place then that should be fine.”

 “Of course, you’re not living with me anymore. It’s time for you to stop mooching off of me and get your own space.” The teasing tone made Killian roll his eyes as he bumped into his side a little harder than necessary.

 “Goodnight Liam, see you tomorrow.” Killian went to sleep and dreamt of green-eyed swans and magic.

[stevecoleridge-posts]

Day 6 ..Friday          Struggling .. which is why i did nt see the news or spend time on Social Media yesterday..          I thought it would be a breeze and after a little concentration id have it down .. but no , even the first part…known as lumpedy lump was proving tough , because of the triplet  walk up from the V to the 1.. and i think thats the part Jimmy Reed himself is playing…   If you ve read previous episodes you will know i refer to Honest I Do….the song.   Im learning it on a You Tube lesson , now a lot of people who think of themselves as pros , seem to think there s some sort  of stigma ro learning stuff on You Tube, but i know a French guy , of Spanish descent , who is a really hot Flamenco guitarist who has mastered nearly all the Palos , and all on You Tube  They are right, if you dedicate yourself to different songs at the same time, but it s like working form home…you need time and discipline ..and take the lessons very slowly and don’t move on till you can play it 20 times with your eyes shut..preferably standing up .. then move on up. Yesterday  was the first time i managed to do this.   There is a different tone on Social media today .. angrier , more prone to blame others, more censorious…and on one group forum i saw they were going to ban Humour..well , i don’t personally know the Group leader.. but it does nt take much imagination to know she s not someone you d want to be quarantined with.    The only thing to fear is fear itself.. well i certainly don’t think that applies in this situation, quite the reverse, the more frightened we are the less we will venture forth on errands that are not strictly necessary..i was on my way out the door , literally, when my mobile rang…it was the charming woman from the bank.. she d got my message .. id gone way over my limit.. which was why i could nt withdraw funds…She , and i won’t name her, is working from Home and sorted it all out on her laptop..no need for me to go to town..      Is nt that great?..well , I thought it was..and a good thing too,as she has not been provided with any masks..and we are talking about a Bank..if they cant get basic stuff like that no wonder the Government  are nt testing people .. they don’t have the wherewithal…it is nt as though this has nt been on the News everyday since December the something.    .I remember listening to Radio Four as i was driving through Slough, in December,… don’t ask … the M4 was closed..and i was listening to a woman in Wuhan describing how her parents were dying in the Street.. that really got my attention.   It did nt seem to get the attention of the people in charge here however, as when the inevitable arrived nearly three months later , they had done nothing to prepare for it.   The Spanish Disease is politics, it creeps into every corner of life and spreads its poison , a bit like you know what,..and in the past when people got fed up with their venal politicians there was a Military Coup , and then they realised maybe life was better before with democracy … and the cycle starts again. This model has been exported successfully to Latin America.. with the possible  exception of Mexico. and Costa Rica   Its all very well for us stodgy Northerners with our bad weather , to criticise, but Sun affects people,and when things are good they seem so much better  in the Sunshine..but something about Sunny weather produces Volatility, and an @ i won’t fix the roof as its not raining @ World View… and Italys  colossal death rate is the price to be paid .. not that it is nt sunny in China..or South Korea..but they do a lot more than just fix the roof..and to put  it down to Confucianism .. well  maybe best not to start on that.   Australia will be interesting, they have lots of sun , but its a pretty organised place ..and i don’t see them making this sort of Balls up.. also they have the experience of natural disasters,,and pulling together, and will not let Politics interfere…any country that had leaders with  names  like Abbott and Costello doesn’t waste too energy on petty politics.  The Current Classic example of petty minded, spiteful, pointless,  negative ,oppurtunism , is the  attempt on social media and what sup groups to denigrate the Royal Family organising people to rattle saucepans at a given time, because apparently the current King s father had a rather large amount of money in a Swiss Account..well, it was Saudi Money , not money stolen from the Spanish taxpayer, unlike the billions stolen by the previous administration , the PP .The idea for this stupidity was inspired by the Custom of applauding the Medical profession every night at eight o clock.. an excellent morale boosting , bringing everyone together kind of gesture..well everything has its opposite and this is an excellent way to breed more discontent and fracture an all ready pretty fractured society.. it beggars belief and you really have to have lived here to see these Barca Madrid  idiocies at first hand.   Barca Madrid is a term used to describe the divide and conquer ,us and them , attitudes that have stopped Spains progress since the collapse of their Empire, culminating in the most vicious Civil War in recent European History, and one would have hoped  that after 40 plus years of Democracy it would have disappeared , but sadly, like in the USA and a lot of other democracies , it seems to be on the increase.The anger on Social Media which results from the claustrophobic frustration of a lockdown will hopefully not boil over into something with unpleasant political consequences, which would be very sad , as after Francos death and the adoption of constitution that is the envy of many countries, Spain was a beacon of hope in the last quarter of the 20 th century… how the mighty are fallen .. one hopes not.. SPANISH LOCKDOWN DAY  7   Slept really well , but then  I remember reading that people on Death row sleep 16 hours a day so possibly not a good sign.   Last Night i watched the Spanish news ,on the main channel and things are looking up , relatively speaking, in the sense that testing has arrived ..someone, or some country, has sent several thousand, or may be half a million test kits.. which is obviously excellent news , and testing in  Galicia is going full steam ahead. There was the obligatory item about a vaccine..which I think one can take with a pinch of salt. .Military erecting field hospitals next to various main hospitals…the eight o clock applause of medical staff…all in all well put together not too desperately pessimistic, and generally not as disheartening as Facebook.. afterwards i felt like some light relief so we watched eleven episodes of 2 and half men,  in Spanish ,to cheer ourselves up before going to bed.   ..   Today i decided to live a normal day .. if such a thing were possible , so , after taking Tina for a walk i got the Old TV and DVD working and put on Marty Schwarz s Intermediate Blues Guitar Course part one…and it started raining .. so that was encouraging as it took away any temptation to venture outside.. except for firewood that is.   I worked through the course without rushing , but also without too much pausing , as i d done those lessons before, and all that repetition of Honest I do  is paying off..   On going outside for firewood i could not ignore the noise of the generator that kicked in yesterday evening, as we ve had not Sun for several days, so i decided to fill it up with diesel, and see how much 15 hours constant running had used,only half the 20 litre can to fill  up the tank…but was it full to begin with?..anyway it s very rare to have 4 days without sun , so even if it did use  13 euros of diesel  Im not going to freak out as that was expensive diesel.. and I’m entitled to use the cheaper stuff .Of cause i spilled Diesel over my hands , and shoes , and when i spent a good 5 minutes trying to wash the smell out i realised this was the ultimate anti virus test.. so i will leave a bowl of Diesel outside every time i go to town and use that as first part of the disinfection process , yet another excuse not to go to town.    My neighbour M.  rang and suggested i look at his scheme on Facebook to institute Food Deliveries , so one does nt have to go to the Supermarket in person  and infect and be infected… a good idea of course , but like so many , i don’t see it happening…I pointed out several objections , lack of drivers, expense, one would need a sort of Uber program which will probably not be ready for a year .. etc..and the Supermarkets are making so much money i doubt they need this sort of input.I promised to look at it later , which I will , as Lunch was ready.   We ve run out of  Bread ,Oranges and Chocolate, Aurora has broken a nail and the nail bars are closed till further notice…but otherwise  we can probably get through till Monday without suffering too much ..on the other hand Monday is probably the worst day to go shopping..Im toying with the idea of going to the small Supermarket, at 8 am Sunday morning, and hopefully having it to myself , as i cant face the idea of a queue. I know English people are supposed to love queueing but i must be an exception, and queuing nowadays is a High Risk Activity.    The Sun is out and i did one of the jobs from a month old to do list… pumping the water out the flooded pump room , it all went very well , and i felt  very worthy , and now , with the Sunshine it s time for a walk , with Tina , of course.   I return , feeling optimistic .. and the phone rings, i assume it s my neighbour asking if I’ve read his article.it isn’t , it s C another near neighbour, with some very bad news .  The police are in Quarantine…and the Army will soon be here. No Tobacco..as they will close the Tobacconist.  A completely different ball game  I rang M, and gave him the news…I f he d had  a kalashnikov  he d have been checking the magazine  I rang another neighbour  F, whose office is next to the Police Station , to warn him. .When the Rumour , comes to your Town , It Grows and Grows, Where it Started No-one Knows…*Robbie Robertson   I rang my source in the Town Hall G…no , it s only one cop , and he has nt got the results yet..   I rang M  again…he had spoken to his friend who is a Guardia Civil .no , it was nt a Cop it was a Guardia Civil..he also told me the Cuban woman who cleans houses had been stopped, by the Police and they checked the receipt for her shopping    I rang the first neighbour and corrected the original story        I opened Facebook .. and there was the original story , which had started a firestorm of comments along the likes of whats your source? etc as though we were in the Watergate hearings, not only that,  the people reading the story imagined it referred to Mojacar , not Carboneras , and were all frantically ringing the Police Staion , The Town Hall and each other to see if it were true.    The tones of the respective comments went from shrill outrage that anyone should suggest such a story without due documentation , to fear , to I knew this would happen, all these irresponsible idiots .. blah blah   It began to increasingly resemble an episode of Dads Army with a false alarm about a German Landing.., which Facebook does anyway    There is the Captain Mainwaring..@While i was out today making sure everyone was behaving themselves i saw these irresponsible panic shoppers,  and these people walking around without a good reason @     The Fraser .. We Re Doomed     The Air raid Warden…Its all the fault of the Ruling Class, and rules are rules etc     Jones ..Dont Panic... in a tone of complete hysteria    Pikes mother…Be sure to wear your gloves , motorcycle helmet , hazchem suit, mask..galoshes, .Do you have your hand sanitiser , all clothes must be burnt on reentry etc     By this time Auroras original alarm had been replaced by hilarity, as she was sitting by the fire hearing one side of these conversations..     I went out for some more wood and we relaxed by watching a Documentary about the Boeing 737 MAX..complete with simulation in the Pilots cockpit    The best part was the CEO of Boeing trying to justify his 30 million Dollar salary at a Congressional hearing..…i wondered what the Shareholders thought about that , i know what the victims families thought , as they were being interviewed and did nt sound too impressed

[resonanteye]

via http://resonanteye.net/current-events-condensed/

current events; condensed

A condensed post including short writings on current events.

CONSPIRACIES ARE NOT SECRET IN THIS CENTURY

open up? conspiracies? here’s the real one.

  if They want to “cull the weak” and control us better, what better way than to present a false choice between going back to work and risking lives, or slowly going broke at home?

it’s a false choice. there are hoarders, greedy fucks holding money they’re not entitled to, billions. enough for everything to be covered. hell, the Pentagon LOST enough money to pay EVERYONE’S rent and mortgage for the best six months. LOST IT.

The conspiracy? PRETEND THAT MONEY ISN’T THERE. force people to fight over scraps, pretend there are only two options. don’t let people come together and agree that TOO MUCH MONEY IS IN TOO FEW HANDS, because that might mean we can beat this thing.

unity among the poor? PREVENT AT ALL COSTS. if you kill a few hundred thousand people in the process, fuck it. that doesn’t matter to Them. They want to keep their grip on power, forcing us to behave like serfs working at their pleasure, dying for their capital gains. Living in their damn bunkers.

There is more than these two choices, don’t let them suck you in. the current garbage video circulating is MORE OF THEIR SHIT. it’s part of this. it’s not “secret info” or “exposing an evil plan”.

to get what They want – they’ve just got to keep us arguing about whether to open up or not. that’s it. that’s all they’ve got to do. circulate some fake anti science garbage to make sure it goes over easy.

and murder a ton of people to make another dollar.

THAT’S your conspiracy. THERE’S your elite takeover.

they don’t need micro chips, 5g, or any of this other shit. vaccines aren’t “Them”, the anti vax movement is THEM trying to murder the “useless”.

” WAKE UP, SHEEPLE ” it’s obvious as fuck and you don’t need to go out on any limbs to see it. it’s plain as day. they’re saying it out loud. there’s no need for this conspiracy to be secret. half of you are HAPPY TO JOIN IN.

stop that. join together. fight for the end of greedy leeches stealing from us then pretending that money is gone and they can’t help. the big banks? THEY FUCKING OWE US ONE. it’s time we collect, TOGETHER. right/left/middle. all of us. they owe all of us.

Divine is disgusted by slumming yuppies

SEGREGATION, A REAL THING

in a post about this photo, someone from Europe, younger, asked if segregation was a real thing, a real law in the US. comments were then closed, so I’ll post my reply here instead, in case anyone was not aware.

Elvis sits to eat at a segregated lunch counter while an elderly black woman stands, waiting for food to take away. she’s not allowed to sit there.

it was law, and when it wasn’t the law it was the unspoken rule, for a very long time.

lunch counter (restaurants of all kinds), bus sections, bathrooms, water faucets and schools were separated by race. the fight to desegregate schools is most well known, as it lasted a very long time and required buses, because people of color had also been segregated by neighborhood- many towns refused to sell and owners refused to rent to anyone of color in a “white area”. (the TV show “the Jeffersons” addresses this, and it’s also known as “redlining”)

many politicians on both sides of the aisle supported it, but the Democratic party eventually worked to pass the civil rights amendment and related bills to stop it, although there were those in the party who still argued in favor of these laws.

https://www.businessinsider.com/biden-said-desegregation-would-create-a-racial-jungle-2019-7

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lester_Maddox

(of note- this happened after desegregation, that’s how strongly politicians felt about it! ten years in and they were still arguing that it had been a good thing.)

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Massive_resistance

after it legally ended, thanks to the civil rights movement, there was blowback; people trying to vote, to eat lunch, ride the bus, go to school, were viciously attacked by crowds or groups of white people.

FILE – In this May 28, 1963 file photo, a group of whites pour sugar, ketchup and mustard over the heads of Tougaloo College student demonstrators at a sit-in demonstration at a Woolworth’s lunch counter in Jackson, Miss. Seated at the counter, from left, are Tougaloo College professor John Salter,and students Joan Trumpauer and Anne Moody. John Salter, who also used the name John Hunter Gray, died Monday, Jan. 7, 2019 at his home in Pocatello, Idaho. Relatives say he was 84 when he died Monday after an illness. (Fred Blackwell/The Clarion-Ledger via AP, File) ORG XMIT: MSJAD701

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freedom_Riders https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Crow_laws

during this time, due to so much police and community violence, the Black Panther formed to monitor and protect people.

https://www.wglt.org/post/director-chronicles-black-panthers-rise-new-tactics-were-needed#stream/0

members of the Black Panthers, preparing to feed the community

GENERATION X

sure, we are slackers. yeah. we’re ok with staying home. you have just told a generation of latchkey tech addicts raised during the bridge from antenna TVs to HD internet streaming to sit at home. if you’d feed us, we wouldn’t even blink at it. this quarantine stuff? that’s not the hard thing.

but we’re watching friends and family die. a lot of us have been down this road before. we’ve watched right wing pigs (yes, I’ll say it) allow our friends to die before. we’ve been down this road of denial and greed and prejudice and all of it. we’ve seen what happens when politicians value money and ego over human lives, and we know it SUCKS ASS.

hell, we watched Reagan. Bush. Bush. Clinton, too-he was only a hair better. and so-

when we need to, we pound the pavement. we toss the bricks. we get arrested. we wipe mace out of our eyes and stampede.

we always tend to be masked, regardless of standards of the moment. I don’t think, in my life, I’ve been to a protest that didn’t have a contingent of masked people wishing to avoid cameras. Now, a protest for actual assistance for people? a real protest, a fight for better conditions, the 300-some strikes that have happened that the news ISN’T covering? yeah. surgical masks. they’re brilliant photos, but not as interesting for the crap media as a few fat guys with guns.

because that’s the joke they want to show us, yeah? not people actually fighting in solidarity, to protect each other, get better work conditions, protect the disabled, get better healthcare for all, support people financially… the shit the majority of people really want. no. they’re not covering that real shit.

the news, they like a spectacle.

we need to find ways to make the facts spectacular.

I have rarely seen my generation protest FOR corporate interests and find any such thing suspicious as all fuck. I don’t believe a bit of that shit. That’s paid for, that’s arranged, that’s a pony show. That’s the same tiny batch of zonked out cultists that don’t have a trump rally to travel to right now. it’s like a damn road show, the same hundred people, like some Boomer deadhead traveling bus shit. I don’t trust it and I don’t believe it. the older folks at them, yeah. they’re that little band of travelers. sure. but us?

Seattle police use gas to push back World Trade Organization protesters in downtown Seattle Tuesday, Nov. 30, 1999. The protests delayed the opening of the WTO third ministerial conference. (AP Photo/Eric Draper)

because even though we will go do Things, we are, in fact, ok with staying home.

and we don’t like your fucking company. and corporations bought our music and art and killed it in front of our eyes, and there’s no getting our trust back. and we will wear a goddamn busted ass thrift store sack before we spend money on slave-sewn clothes. and we would rather read and write and play music and watch movies all damn day, than go to jobs in cubicles.

War protesters and march to Gas Works Park protesting the US involvement in the Persian Gulf and the buid up to war against Irag January 15 deadline 1991 Seattle Washington State USA

I mean, we’ll usually go, because we gotta eat. so feed us. give us bread. you already poisoned the roses.

  THE ASSHOLE FACTORY

this is where your conspiracy videos are made. in the asshole factory.

what do you notice about these photos? do you see the threats? what kind of people are there?

it is almost like there’s a monthly event they’ve been going to, that’s been cancelled, where they could hold up trump signs and boo anything reasonable… wonder what that event is. where have you seen some of these faces before? I’ve seen a few in the rally photos and videos.

check out “small business” guy. who is he? does he own a “small business”, you think? (photos by Orin Louis)

  ON THE PANDEMIC

a lot of people talking about immunity/reinfection and that study.

that study is just saying we don’t know yet. we just don’t know yet.

it’s early days.

Coronavirus is not influenza, they’re two different families of virus. VERY different.

this is more related to the common cold (in its behavior)than to the flu. (the cold is a rhinovirus. SARS & MERS, and Covid-19, if you want to find out more about these viruses, don’t look up the flu-they are Coronaviruses.)

it is contagious the way a cold is, but it has serious effects on any part of the body with ace2 receptors. (simply put- blood, lungs, heart, kidneys, brain)

they have been working on a cold vaccine for decades. no success. BUT. again, it’s early days. there’s never been this kind of pressure for a vaccine for it. so, to be direct: we don’t know yet. they’ve never been this desperate, this well funded, to find a cold vaccine.

this could be a seasonal thing, eventually- it could mutate to be less lethal and become just another cold we can get every year. it could mutate to be even more vicious and we all are in serious danger all the time. it could create immunity, and some will be ok for a year or a month or a decade… it might not, and people can catch it again and worse.

we just don’t know yet. the whole reason we are isolating the way we are is to buy time for science to find these answers. we’re not in quarantine to “kill it off” or stop it. we are slowing it down so science can have time to find answers, so less of us die while that happens.

  every day we don’t infect other people, is a day in which researchers can work. we need them to work. they are doing that. every day we don’t infect other people, is a day this virus doesn’t get a chance to mutate and change. this helps a lot.

science needs time. all this economic mayhem- it’s to buy them time to help us, to figure it out. the answers won’t come right away and during this time we may hear things that are being tried and tested, some may not work at all, some may be worse than nothing, so information won’t be steady or always correct. when you read a thing, wait a day. read more about it. read the actual study- and if you can’t, wait a few days and read what scientific sources say about it (the lancet, NEJM, etc). don’t rely on NBC, fox, etc to do a great job reporting on science. you’ll have to have patience, even science is having to watch and wait while things are researched, right now.

nobody has the answers; it’s NOVEL. brand new.

they’re testing, they’re researching, they’re learning this thing’s secrets as fast as they can, while we wait that process out.

be as safe as you can be while we buy them the time.

image: pink pangolin drawing in frame

  COMMON SENSE KNOWLEDGE

FOR ACCURACY

You shouldn’t leave the house unless you absolutely have to: food, medicine, or other necessity of life. This includes going to other people’s houses.

Masks are good at protecting others if you are infected, and help protect you too, just not as much as others. Wear one.

Stores are closed, unless they provide food or medicine. Alcohol is a necessity for alcoholics who will have actual seizures and could die from withdrawal, so some of those are open. (Some states have been pressured into letting other things stay open, and people insist on going to church and being able to buy guns in public stores, but that’s political shit and you shouldn’t go places unless you have to.)

This virus is deadly to many people, even healthy ones, is as contagious as a common cold, and has killed more people in a month than the flu does in a year. You don’t want to catch it, and if you do, you want to catch it when doctors and nurses aren’t overworked from other people catching it too. There are 8 strains identified right now. This will change over time, because it’ll mutate- like every virus. EVERY virus.

Glovesw help, unless you change them after touching a contaminated surface. They’re good if used properly and if you’re not sure how to do that, don’t bother. Just wash your hands often.

Everyonen to stay home, but you can go outside- away from people. Staying a good distance from people is really the whole point of staying home.

There will be shortages of some things at the grocery store as supplies run out, and as things are shipped to replace them. Chill out.

The virus does spread through and sometimes kill children, but we weren’t aware of this until we had better information.

You will have many symptoms when you are sick, but you will be contagious for up to two weeks before you get sick. YOU WILL BE CONTAGIOUS WITH NO TEMPERATURE OR SYMPTOMS.

You really shouldn’t be eating restaurant food, unless you can reheat it. Wipe down or wash off your groceries.

You are safe if you maintain six feet distance from others, if everyone is masked and nobody is coughing or sneezing. If they are, you need about 27 feet of distance. Keep space from people.

The virus remains active on different surfaces for a time. The surface being porous may or may not matter; like many things, research by science will give better answers as they have time to figure it out.

We count the number of deaths but we don’t know how many people are infected because most places have not got enough tests to see who is infected. Until we can test everyone, stay home, stay away from people.

We have no treatment. There are clinical trials of many different drugs and at least one vaccine, right now, but it will take time to find out what works.

We should stay away from people to avoid spreading this virus until scientists can offer a treatment or preventative measure like a vaccine. There is no reason to infect people, help the virus mutate, or fuck around with this.

If you are an essential worker of ANY kind, you deserve a living wage, hazard pay, full PPE and kindness from everyone who needs you right now. we should be fighting for your safety, not to make things more dangerous for you.

Stop spreading misinformation. Science doesn’t know everything about this yet, information can and will change or become more specific as time goes by. Yes, business interests and governments have handled the entire thing like a clown show, but you don’t have to be part of making it worse.

  THE VALIDITY OF PROTESTING IN THIS TIME

protest for:

stronger unions

better pay

stronger social safety nets during a pandemic

your right to own and bear arms

your freedom of speech/freedom from unwarranted surveillance

safer working conditions

medical care for all

free education

fair elections

physical safety from police violence

safety from racist/hate crimes

NOT FOR:

fuck, BUYING things. don’t protest to be able to go buy shit? what the hell is wrong with you?!? you can buy a gun next month, dipshit. you can buy through private sale. fuck all the way off with that.

SOMEONE ELSE TO WAIT ON YOU (haircuts, restaurants, nails, tattoos, etc)

the right to block hospital entrances (we all saw the footage, shut the fuck up)

the right to gigantic church services during a pandemic. YOU CAN DO LIKE GRANDPA DID AND WATCH YOUR PREACHER ON THE TEE VEE.

going to a shit job that you’ve never liked instead of all the things above that would have allowed you to get through this shit without starving to begin with

by the way, local seed and feed stores are open nation wide; agriculture is considered an essential business. you can’t buy whatever the fuck at wallymart right now though, SO SORRY. maybe don’t even fucking shop there?

edit to add; if they were only endangering themselves I wouldn’t give a shit – but you know these fuckers are getting too close to store cashiers, walking the wrong way down narrow aisles, and touching every-fuckin-thing.

  also: 81% of people polled, from EVERY political group, think they should be staying home. and agree with that. THIS IS A CRAP PROTEST BY A TINY, UNIMPORTANT GROUP and should not be getting the coverage it is. they aren’t enough to restore an economy, let alone fill a small concert hall.

    I may split these into separate posts, if you’d like that, comment so I know people need/want that.

[kootenaygoon]

So,

At first, I was nervous about tackling news stories. 

I knew the stakes from my summers at the Whitehorse Star, had seen how small fuck-ups could have large consequences. Telling someone else’s story is a huge privilege, a power you have over them, and it can be intoxicating. But if you do it wrong, you will hear about it. I preferred the lighter elements of the job, like taking pictures at the Pride Parade or typing up an exhaustive feature on the Capitol Theatre’s production of Chicago. I was a hype machine, excitedly Photoshopping my images and then sprawling back in my desk chair with the newly printed paper’s pages flung open to reveal my handiwork. I floated through the summer of 2014 high on the experience of it all, letting myself fall in love with each new artist I interviewed.

Some people believed the proliferation of artists in the Nelson area was thanks to the town being situated on a bed of magical quartz, but I figured it was more a case of kindreds being attracted to one another. People were looking for a life less ordinary, far from the city. Most locals had some sort of regular job and then spent the remainder of their time investing in creative endeavours, whether that meant painting a mural, starting a food truck or playing in an 80s cover band called Val Kilmer and the New Coke. I started learning the names of local authors, meeting up with poet Tom Wayman and short story writer Myler Wilkenson. I wrote a feature about a photographer named Ryan Oakley who had crowd-funded a book called Humans of Nelson, based on the viral hit Humans of New York. It featured daily portraits of people he met during his lunch breaks, along with a pithy quote that captured their essence. One young singer named Anilah had just landed her Enya-esque tracks on some TV show, a spoken word poet named Magpie Ulysses was releasing a chapbook and a popular saxophonist named Clinton Swanson was playing relentless gigs around town. I giddily funnelled their stories on to Facebook and Twitter, where I obsessively watched the engagement numbers climb. Within a month or two our web presence had exploded, and pretty soon Calvin was bragging that we had the best social media numbers in the Kootenays.

But every now and then, things got dark. The first heavy story that landed on my desk involved a quartet of teenagers who had gone missing the day before I arrived in town. It was eventually discovered that they’d commandeered a canoe and gone adventuring right into a windstorm on Slocan Lake—a body of water so enormous it almost looks like the ocean in places. Authorities were able to recover the canoe pretty quickly, and found a young girl near death. Though they rushed her to medical services, she died in the hospital. There was no trace of the others, three dudes ranging in age from late teens to early twenties. The grief was heavy in the community, and right away I felt it settle in my chest — a clenched fist of empathy. I interviewed the RCMP as they conducted a large-scale search, checking in each day to hear if there was anything to report. At one point it looked like they were going to call it off, but then the families hired a husband-wife duo from the U.S. who had a submersible specially designed for these sorts of retrievals. Within a few days they’d located the boys, down in the darkness, and dragged them back up into the light. I shuddered when I thought of how they must’ve looked after that long underwater, after being cradled to the surface with a claw. The people I interviewed talked about the closure that brought to the families, and I quoted various people silver lining it, but it was the sort of tragedy that was so random it felt cruel on a cosmic level. Like a deity reaching down from heaven to smudge out a few people with his thumb.

“We cannot presume what happened. Our best speculation is misadventure. It wasn’t a very big canoe,” RCMP officer Darryl Little told me. 

“It was more of a swift water canoe than a lake canoe. There wasn’t much space below the gunnels and we figure the wind came up and that was it.”

During those weeks I kept running into people who knew the kids, and saw the impact plain on their heartbroken faces. One woman burst into tears while I was renewing my car insurance. I decided to interview the school district psychologist, Dr. Todd Kettner, to get his insights into the community’s grief process. We met at Lakeside Park and shot a video of him sitting on a park bench, calling out the provincial government and Premier Christy Clark. They had docked his pay during the teacher’s strike, right while he was in the midst of putting in overtime to coordinate a critical incident crisis management plan for the Slocan community. He was the only psychologist for the district, which according to him was chronically under-funded. For him it wasn’t about the dollars they took off his cheque, it was the overall neglect rural schools were receiving that really set him off. In an online open letter that went viral around the province he laid out some of the routine cases he was dealing with from day to day, underlining the ways the community was failing to support students with mental health issues.

“I was awakened Sunday morning by a phone call informing me that a student at one of the 21 schools I’m responsible for was on life support in ICU after an accidental drug overdose,” he wrote.

“Monday morning, while continuing to support the staff at the school where the hospitalized student learns, a dedicated and caring school administrator and I were informed that we were needed at another school to help the staff there prepare to gently inform their students that their classmates’ parent had been killed in a tragic accident.”

Kettner was eventually reimbursed for his pay cut, but didn’t see any change at an institutional level. At the end of the day he was still doing his job the best way he could in seemingly impossible circumstances. In the newsroom Tamara filled me in on the realities of SD8, and the issues were deeply systemic. The whole system was cash-starved because the undeclared income of the cannabis industry meant that, on paper, it was the poorest district in the province. The local high school was past capacity, there were multiple elementary schools that should have been demolished years ago, and sitting through board meetings meant hearing about financial snafus of the highest order.

“Those school board meetings, Will? Worst part of my job, easy. You wouldn’t believe how boring they are. All the ‘motion to accept this’ and ‘motion to accept that’. Makes me want to blow my brains out,” she said.

“The key is, you have to get to know the trustees, the superintendent. Once you have them as a connection, they can pretty much talk you through anything.”

“You think the strike will last much longer?”

“Shit, I don’t know. Those teachers are pissed, and they’re not going to back down.”

Around this time I came to an instinctive conclusion about the type of reporter I wanted to be: not aloof, or unfeeling, but the type that engages to an almost scary degree. If I was going to write a story, I wanted to understand it on a far deeper level than I needed for the paper, I wanted to be the guy in town that was the ultimate expert on that topic — right down to its human nuances.

The story commanding my most fervid attention was the trial of Andrew Stevenson, the bank robber that Cass had told me about. Calvin, Tamara and I spent a good half an hour scouring through Facebook trying to find a photo of him and his co-accused, Krista Kalmikoff, so we could have something to illustrate Greg’s stories about the court hearings. We were unsuccessful. The guy was being charged with seven robberies over the course of about six months, of both banks and pharmacies. The NPD had identified addiction as the driving force behind the crimes, and had been able to predict the exact day of his last robbery: April 25, 2014. In my free time I interrogated anyone who knew anything about what happened, picking up scraps of information here and there. A drunk woman at a party described seeing him come careening out of the bank’s parking lot on a bike, cutting in front of city hall and hurtling down towards the lake as cops sprinted after him. I wanted, so badly, to know what this guy looked like. Calvin sent me down to the court to get a shot of him walking in handcuffed—a goon shot—but then it turned out he was appearing by video link. Foiled!

As I got to know the NPD cops, attending one of their award ceremonies, I met a soft-spoken sergeant named Nate Holt. He had thickly muscled arms, a neatly trimmed blond beard and spiky hair that was nearly white. Not only was he holding an award for bravery, he was also one of the guys who was at the bridge that day, with Andrew Stevenson's stolen money raining down from the tree like confetti. I pictured the bank robber squirming on the rocks, trying to crawl away, while they descended on him like blue wraiths. The thing about Nate was you could feel the toll his work took on him, and you could see it in the way he carried himself. He was piggy-backing a lot of sadness. One suicidal dude came at him with a butcher knife and Nate didn’t even pull his gun. No, he got close enough to tackle him in a bear-hug, wrestle the knife out of his grip and save both of their lives. Sometimes I thought about those two men, rolling on the Baker Street sidewalk in that guy’s blood, while shocked residents looked on. I couldn’t believe that someone could have an experience like that and return to work the next day. But that’s exactly what he did.

Before Paisley moved into our new place, Muppet and I got a few days of lackadaisical meandering. I took her to Kaslo May Days with me, slaloming along the highway up Kootenay Lake in a state of giddy bliss, thinking yes I think I made the right decision while I gazed out at the water. I spotted a weird gargoyle sculpture on top of a house on Front Street, and wondered to myself what the deal was there. I spent a lot of time wandering through parks with my camera, approaching strangers and asking to take their photos. Cass would later jokingly call these spreads “All the people Will met at the park the other day”. Eventually I decided I had to see this bridge Andrew Stevenson jumped off, so I got on the highway out to Castlegar and went looking for it. We turned off the highway and followed a switch-back down to the Columbia River, just a few kilometres up from a massive hydroelectric dam. I parked at one end of the bridge and walked Muppet out across the dusty concrete to the middle so we could see the spot it happened. It was a clear, sunny afternoon, and I eventually identified the small cedar he’d attempted to jump into. Below was nothing but a rocky slope to the river, twenty feet further on. This was where it all ended for him, after evading the cops six times. Maybe it was the new pot I was smoking, or maybe it was something else, but I was feeling an electric need to understand this story. I’d been struggling for years on a novel that wasn’t coming along, partially because I was finding it difficult to invent new parts of the narrative, but here was a true fucking story that I could actually throw my weight into. I stood there for a long time, while cars rocketed by in the distance and wind hurtled through the canyon. The air smelled delicious.

I stood there drinking a Slurpee while Muppet panted happily.

The Kootenay Goon

[elzariel]

Karma Fairy

This will be a LONG one, like, short novel long, but its been a long gig and I need to tell the world of this mess, hoping this'll pay my debt back to the karma fairy for letting justice rain on this.

The cast: Me MOS (manager on site) CB (cheeky bugger) HAH (horny asshole)

TLDR; HAH acts like he's the pro and brags to everyone, before talking shit about coworkers behind their back to other coworkers and boss, then doesn't do his job, expects boss not to find out he's skipping work, doesn't turn to work and when boss wants to ask him what the fuck, doesn't even answer his phone. HAH is in for a surprise when MOS will never hire him again and probably will cut ties with him all together, as he now knows what a shit person HAH is.   

Background info: I'v been with this company for half a year now, but have recently moved from another town. My old boss offered to introduce me to the manager at the new town and said they could easily get me more work there. I agree that I'd love to keep working for them, as I'v been cleaning for years on several smaller companies, but its never ended happily. Turns out cleaning as a profession is a swamp of bad customers and crap employers. Who knew. All in all, this company has been nothing but nice and I love working for them. The two managers I'v worked for were stellar gents, I trust them and will bend backwards to keep the customer happy for these people. My current boss at the company, is a friendly, no nonsense guy. I'v met him like, twice before I got to the worksite, but he seemed to get along well with my old boss, so I trust this guy. A little scatterbrained and bad at choosing workers, but we all make mistakes. Also kinda crap at making inventory on what needs to be done when etc. but its okay, he has a whole town's cleaning jobs to run for a fairly big company.

My new manager, MOS, asks if I want to do a short gig, since they don't have anything stable to give me yet. I agree, as I want work asap. This would also raise my experience and give me kudos in the company for accepting short notice work, since MOS called me a day before the gig starts. (turns out nobody else wanted to do it except me and CB) Gig is at an office type building, to clean before the new tenants move in. Space has been cleaned after the last tenant left, but they want us to deep clean the space, since new tenant has had problems with in-door air quality at their last place, meaning they're gonna be absolutely anal about new place being clean. MOS makes it clear to all three of us working there, me, CB and HAH that this is IMPORTANT. The dust HAS to be gone. From EVERYWHERE. There is no slacking at this job. This is one of those gigs where it has to be spotless or we'll have to just re-do it until it is.

On day one, I meet my work buddies for this gig. CB, darker skinned immigrant worker, speaks fairly ok english and a understandable version of the language of the land. Does the jobs given to him, or so we thought. Not a bad dude, just has a shit ton of work on his plate, including another cleaning company next to ours, this raises tension with him and MOS. HAH, dude says he's a veteran of the field. Has been cleaning "forever". Keeps mentioning how he's a pro at window washing and seems oddly fixated on windows, as if he thinks this is his only job here. MOS said he hired this guy because HAH didn't have work atm. Never said that HAH would only be doing windows. From that day on, HAH would constantly, and I mean CONSTANTLY, keep talking how the windows will only take him a day to do, including the outside. How this job, that has been scheduled for 70 hours or in other words 5 days, will only take us like two, so we can take it slow and laze around. (Of course not when MOS is around, but he openly talks about going slow with me and CB. Even bitches at me for doing the bathrooms "too fast" as we'll "run out of work" if I don't slow down.) When HAH wasn't boasting about how fast this'll be, he is talking about sex. Not kidding. This man spent 80% of the time his mouth was moving talking about fucking, dicks, vags, railing women and the sort. Now I ain't a prude, but damn son, reel it in a little. He's 49, going through a divorce, with kids my age (29) and it seems like he has no other topics besides being a fast worker and how many women he's banged. CB humors him, but I only answer with curt, short comments. I'm not interested. I'm here to work, not boost someone's ego. We get trouble almost immediately. HAH starts on indoors glass surfaces, while me and CB start trying to figure out how the heck we're supposed to clean the windows that are second story high, we have our own saga with fighting a scaffolding set that's not only badly installed, but at the wrong spot, trying to get it moved, trying to have CB not die falling from cleaning on this thing, etc. It is not fun, its driving MOS insane trying to get the guys responsible for the scaffolding to help us. It goes on for most of the time we're there. In the end, all higher windows have to be cleaned with a seriously dodgy ladder.

Trouble starts on the third last day. Its monday. I come in to find nobody there. Okay, I assume CB has been working too much again and can't come in today, or will be late. Its a trend, but I'm like, its okay. We're almost done anyways. On Friday, HAH left super SUPER early, saying he's done all he needs and we'll do the windows outside on monday when it gets warmer. I shrug, almost tell him to fuck off since he's done jack shit all week, even though he was supposed to help us with EVERYTHING, not just windows, but let him leave because its his fault when MOS comes by later that day and he gets in trouble. MOS got annoyed as fuck when he did come by, but said I could leave early too since we're almost done. (or were we, dun dun duu)

At around lunch on monday, I call MOS to ask about the bathrooms in the foyer, if they belong to the office space and if I should clean them too. Here's the convo: "Yeah those are part of the office too." "Hey I wanted to ask, where is everybody? I'm alone here and we aren't nearly done." "Oh uhh.. Yeah HAH was there this morning, but since the usual electricians didn't show up before 9am, he waited outside the door for an hour and left, without calling me to get someone to open the door." "What?! He left???" "Yeah I don't think I'm hiring this guy again after this. Old friend or not. He's getting all kinds of cocky.." "Well, yeah, he left super early on friday too, saying how he'd finish the outside windows on monday but I guess thats tomorrow then?" MOS apologizes and tells me he's gonna come by in a few to do inventory on what needs to be done and check up a bit on what has been done. We're going to have a check-up with the customer on tuesday around noon, so we'll know what the customer wants re-done by wednesday. MOS shows up in about half an hour, I tell him the list of stuff that needs doing, at this point its mostly the floors, one bathroom needs a quick dust-up since its been in use. We walk around and spot some dusty window frames. MOS looks suspicious af and starts touching ALL the window frames indoors. There's dust everywhere. HAH was supposed to wipe these as he cleaned them, turns out he didn't. While we're doing that, we spot a few ventilation vents that need to be vacuumed, nothing major. Some walls are scuffed and we comment on how that could use a touch up. All in all it looks ok. Rest of monday is spent with CB, who shows up late, getting upper surface dusting done and me finishing small stuff like the bathrooms and some of the walls. By the end of day, I'v seen MOS outside with window cleaning stuff finishing the outside windows. I'm starting to suspect he is so done with HAH at this point. This is tuesday. I come in fairly early, as I can only work for 3 hours that day. In between that tuesday and the first day there, I'v gotten a small bank job from CB to do three times a week + I'm doing holiday leave for a bigger job in town, cutting my available hours to 3 at the office space. This means I'm there for 3 hours, finishing up dusting high up surfaces, when I walk past where MOS and HAH are talking in a room. HAH is making snide comments on how he's surprised (me) can use the floor cleaning equipment. I listen in, take a deep breath, and walk away. Not worth it. I don't have the energy to explain to this jackass I have a damn degree, that has 40% of it concentrated on machine usage and maintenance. I can use any and all equipment a cleaning job needs, be it floor cleaners, polishers, watervacuums or those mini-zambonis. Client shows up around noon. MOS is busy walking the premises with them and I immediately realize there's trouble. The client(s) turn out to be a group of people, with various faces and job titles. MOS looks horrified about 5 minutes in and it just gets worse from there. HAH has done a shit job. Like, major shit job. CB did some of the windows high up, but since he's clearly never been actually taught how to do it, he did it in whatever way that felt logical to him. HAH was supposed to spot clean after CB, but this combo just turned into a mess where ALL indoors window frames had to now be re-dusted with a wet cloth. Yes. All of them. 1000m2 of space, re-dusted. That's 10 763,9 sq ft for americans. HAH had the balls to walk past me re-dusting with "I did that when I cleaned the windows you don't have to do that" which I curtly responded to with "No, the customer literally just said everything has to be re-done." This caused HAH to start doing the SAME THING I WAS DOING. We now had TWO people dusting these window frames, like idiots, while the customer is there. I was so very VERY close to throwing my rag at this guy, telling him to fucking find something useful to do, instead of passive-aggressively following me. I was already doing the job, what on earth! On top of this, the customer found dust. But refused to tell us where he found the dust from. MOS is flabbergasted. How does hiding where it is help us clean? We have no idea, we went through the whole location trying to find this mystery dust treasure trove. Got some hits, cleaned those. MOS is defeated and deflated, he is tired and done after the customer(s) leave. Turns out we have to re-do most light-fixtures, some windows needed a re-wipe, the floors are still not done. I leave on tuesday early, with HAH still shit talking to MOS, now insulting CB's work ethic and results openly, getting more and more racist by the minute. I exit before I have to hear what he has to say about my cleaning. So its wednesday now. Its technically our last day there and everything has to be perfect, finished and spotless before anyone can go home. What does HAH do? Leave early. I come in around 9:30, by 10:00 HAH is gathering his gear talking about how there's only the floor to clean and we should be done. CB is coming later to help right, you'll be fine on your own with 1000m2 flooring to clean! (again, 10 763,9 sq ft) Apparently only some of the offices floors need cleaning, mostly what is needed is two front offices, the big entrance room, a hallway and the foyer. All this time HAH is talking, he is clearly talking about using the small floor cleaning machine we have there. He even points at it, making sure I know how to use it etc. Before he leaves, I ask him to help me move all our equipment, scattered around the office, to the main lobby room and clean up a little. I'm thinking, he can at least do THAT, right?? No. No he cannot. He brings maybe third of the equipment to the lobby, helps with none of the trash, and just poofs into thin air. I'm like, ok, I'm fine with this. I start by checking that everything is ok, spot clean some walls, then start on the floor. I use the little machine we have. At the lesser used end of the hallway it works fine. It looks clean etc. But by the time I'm at the lobby end of the hallway, I'm seeing streaks on the floor. This is a trend that continues through the two offices and the foyer. After I'm done with the lobby/main entrance room, I realize this isn't gonna fly. The floor is super streaky and I can't figure out what is going on. I'm technically done now, all the floors are ran through once with the cleaning machine, but I just don't feel right leaving without asking MOS about the floor, if there's something to do, if I can leave etc. I text MOS if I can leave, I'm done with everything, I think, etc. Ask about the streaking. Then I start my lunch. I know he's at a meeting so getting an answer might take time and I'm in no hurry, as I have no other work on wednesdays, I can stay here however long that is needed. I don't hear anything in 45 minutes and decide fuck it, I'll call him. MOS answers instantly, laughing how he was just about to call. We laugh about telepathy and here's the convo: "So are the electricians gone? They were supposed to finish today right? Are you guys alone?" "What? No, I'm alone. There's two electricians here with me, they seem pissed too, I guess nobody is in time here." "Wait what? You're alone? Where's HAH??? Didn't CB show up??" "Uhh no?" "What in the actual fuck!? What happened???" "HAH was here until about 10am but he left, said everything was done, he had nothing to do so he'd be off" "What the fuck does he mean Nothing to do?? The floors are- are the floors done?" "Well see, there's this weird streaking problem.. I don't want to leave before you ok me to leave, since this doesn't look clean to me, tbh" "Give me 20 minutes. I'll be there. I'll give you a ride home later." "I'm in no hurry, I have no other work for today" MOS shows up in exactly 20 minutes. "The polishing machine hasn't done a very good job has it.." "What polishing machine?" "Huh? You haven't used the polishing machine on the lobby yet?" "No??? I wasn't told that was to be done. All HAH told me was to use the small machine and we'd be done?" "No, we need to use the polishin machine on the lobby, foyer and probably the hallway too, looking at the streaking, the shit's stained too deep for the small machine to penetrate it. Fucking HAH! What the hell does he think he's doing!? Why the hell did we bring the polishing machine and watervacuum here if its not used! Idiots!" At this point MOS starts cursing and I realize its finally dawned on him how much work there still is to do, and its just me and him now. MOS calls around trying to reach anyone to help, CB can't come he's already used his hours today, again. (Turns out he isn't even doing his jobs at the other places he cleans well, he has been lazying around wasting time and not following customer wishes/demands for a while, MOS tells me I might be getting stable work sooner than later, as it seems CB is gonna get booted too if his shitty work quality continues) Its now about 1pm and MOS asks me, looking desperate, if I'm okay helping him for the afternoon and for the next day as well. I agree, saying I'd gladly take the cash and how this vexes me too. The floor looks terrible + I want to look as good as possible to MOS now that I know both CB and HAH have screwed over their graces royally. We take a couple hours to use the smaller machine again the offices, but with the Good Stuff used with the polishing machine, resulting in clean floors. While I'm doing the offices, MOS starts on the lobby, with the Good Stuff + the polisher. GS is a very smelly, acidic chemical meant to strip wax off flooring, so its serious stuff, but also proceeds to get this grimy, black substance to come out the plastic flooring, making us realize some poor fucker waxed this floor, thinking it'd help (spoiler it didn't, don't wax plastic flooring) and that was causing the streaking, as the smaller machine can't strip wax but it can streak it. Thing is, when you use the polishing machine, you literally throw water and cleaning agent on the floor, run it over with the polisher then use the watervacuum to remove the dirty water. Its a two person job or it takes forever, since you cannot let the detergent and water dry, or you have to re-do everything. There was NO way I could have done this alone in a sensible time! HAH either knew this and was a cruel shit head or didn't know and wasn't the pro he said he was. By the time its 3pm, we have the lobby half done and the offices finished. The next day would be the hallway and the rest of the lobby. Before we leave, MOS tries to call HAH to ask him what the fuck is up, but doesn't get an answer. I tell MOS not to bother, HAH knows he's in shit so won't answer. MOS drives me home and on the way he expresses his regret in letting HAH in on the job, saying how if he knew what a bastard HAH'd be, MOS would never have hired HAH. MOS also tells me how HAH spent the whole tuesday shit talking CB and my work, how if HAH was alone he'd finished in 2 days. TWO DAYS. MOS says that was the point where he stopped listening and decided this man was beyond help. This is also when I heard MOS talk about how CB's other locations have been complaining a lot, saying how CB would leave equipment everywhere, would not clean the whole time he was supposed to be cleaning, would not show up at work etc. Got pretty much told I could have free pick when CB was fired later this year on his locations. MOS also mentioned how he was going to find out if there was anything he could do about HAH's pay, since he hadn't been at work or if he had been at work hadn't actually worked. I told MOS some pretty exact times when I knew HAH was working, meaning HAH couldn't bullshit his hours to MOS saying he'd worked when he hadn't.

Sadly, I didn’t go on thursday after all, as I realized I had a medical appointment I thought was on friday but was on thursday instead, so I have no other ending to this, except the knowledge that HAH will never work for MOS again.

I apologize for the HUGE wall of text, but it was a wild week and by the end of it, I could literally see karma fairy when I closed my eyes. I just wish I could be a fly on the wall when HAH realizes what a shit show this gig was and how its gonna affect his work prospects with this company.

Epilogue: Also, as a sidenote, yeah, this whole thing was a mess from the customer perspective too. By the time we got to wednesday, the electricians weren't done, they were supposed to have been done DAYS before we were to be done. There was new renovations that needed to be done showing up constantly. Several smaller jobs hadn't been done etc. I feel bad for the new tenants, who were supposed to move in on FRIDAY, with walls to be painted and crap still MIA. So its almost as if the picky customer got karma'd too. They were so hellbent on having the cleaning done perfectly, that the renovations weren't done anywhere near in time, meaning the nice clean floors and bathrooms? Now dirty again from reno guys using them for a good two days after we finished. And as we have picture evidence of our work, they can't come back saying we didn't clean. We did our job and their reno guys fucked our work up, not our problem.

TLDR; HAH acts like he's the pro and brags to everyone, before talking shit about coworkers behind their back to other coworkers and boss, then doesn't do his job, expects boss not to find out he's skipping work, doesn't turn to work and when boss wants to ask him what the fuck, doesn't even answer his phone. HAH is in for a surprise when MOS will never hire him again and probably will cut ties with him all together, as he now knows what a shit person HAH is.

[the-man-who-would-be-king]

Diary

Two boys – giddy – skip out of a pub. They don't look old enough to be drunk; let alone to be in love. I aim my eyes elsewhere as they pass me by. The pub looms both large and loud on the other side of the road. The bouncer at the door is just a bulking silhouette; all but for the amber spark at the tip of his fag. Voices inside call out to me, or so it seems.

From my spot upon the adjacent street I slow my walk – or more, my dog slows me. He stops to sniff the air. The cold dew of night has left my nose damp like his. So I sniff too, but not to smell. I think the bouncer eyes me up. I suppose he has nothing else to do; I wonder if he’s much of stargazer – they certainly look down upon us all tonight.

The boys are long gone now; their feathered footsteps patter away in the past. The bouncer’s cigarette is snuffed out and flicked street-side. The voices at the bar seem to call me no more. These are all signs my dog fails to follow. He wanders toward the pub – ‘not tonight’. I pull on his lead. We head away. We head home. I shouldn’t drink as I have work tomorrow. Besides, I am saving my money for something else – something better, I hope.

The next morning, when I wake to the jarring sound or my phone’s alarm, I try not to think – it’s easier that way. I try not to think as I shower. I try not to think as I eat my breakfast. I try not to think as I put on my work uniform – blacks jeans, green jumper. I try not to think. But I always fail. There is always something to think about.

The bus takes me ten minutes but it costs two pounds and it’s often late. Sometimes it’s on time, but on those infrequent occasions it seems to be me who is late. We have no synergy, public transport and I. To walk costs me nothing but a little extra time: twenty-six minutes all up, or thereabouts. However, my habitual indignation comes not in the distance I travel daily but in the weather I must journey through. It is mid-winter, and it has been a harsh one so far. I will arrive with windswept hair, a red nose and fingers too numb to properly close. I can't wait for summer – though not just for the sun.

On my walk to work there are things I pass always; things that will never change. The daily commuters in their cars, for one: perpetually stuck behind one another; all headed to somewhere they’d rather not be – on a bitter weekday morning, it’s safe to assume that there is nowhere quite as desirable as a warm bed. The school children will never change either, though that is an entirely more positive thing. Fresh-faced and rosy-cheeked they gleefully exist; blissfully unaware of the immense effort, both physical and mental, that will be required in later life to do what they achieve so easily now – existentialism awaits us all. And of course there are the shops: the franchise fast-food joints already open for breakfast; the supermarket chains shackled up beside one-another, competing on two-for-ones and discounted stale burger buns; and don’t forget the ever-failing independent stores – hairdressers, boutique cafés, battered bookshops, fish and chip takeaways, and the like. Every now and then the shops pretend to shift and change – but I’m not fooled; really, they're always the same.

I nod as I pass the chain-smoking working class. They run these streets for the profit of higher powers. They run these streets in return for the small fee of a handful of peanuts. I don’t run anything. But I swim in the same river, I struggle against the same currents. And my time is measured with the same currency.

There is one last ever-present I spot during my daily pilgrimage. It is the human who has turned their shoulder to society. Or more, society has turned its shoulder against them. For if they had truly abandoned society they would not have placed themselves right inside the beating heart of it. No, they have not abandoned society; they have merely withdrawn from traditional methods of autonomy.

I make eye-contact with the homeless man who sits inside his tattered sleeping bag upon the cold and hard pavement. His back is up against the wall. The wall belongs to the local bank. All these walls belong to something abstract. I reach into my pocket but find no spare peanuts for the homeless man. I wish I had looked elsewhere earlier as I must inevitably do now. I avert my gaze in mild and fleeting shame and cross the road. My work-shift is long but I do not mind all that much. After all, the more hours the more money. I need the money.

My job is uneventful. It’s easy most always. The challenges that do arise from time-to-time are not the kind to evoke satisfaction when completed. They just seem to beat the stress away as if with the frayed end of an old broom. I suppose it is there in the flailing shadows of such confrontations where the life exists in my place of work – without incident, there would be nothing to talk about, nothing to complain about; therefore, nothing to do.

But still, I prefer quiet days; even if the time passes a little more slowly. I’m not an impatient human, or at least lately I’m trying not to be. Tomorrow is something I’ll always hold out for, but today has my focus, eternally. Though it is hard not to cast an eye to the future when the current moment is so dull. Sometimes, inside the shop, behind the till or beside the stockroom, it feels as if I forget to live. I exist alright, but only in the same way that the ticking hand of a clock exists – and perhaps with a little less explicit purpose.

I suppose the paradox is that I’m only working now, throwing away my current day, in a way, in order to find pleasure at some later junction. I’m saving to travel. Waiting for winter to pass and money to arrive as to allow me to my mild-weathered, stably financed, socially approved, age-appropriate adventure.

My day passes without one memorable thing occurring – I’m sure lots of memorable things happened to other people across the world, it’s just nothing of note happened to me. Knowing this reminds me that the world really does revolve around me; at least as far as I can see.

The next day, after doing the same walk, passing the same shops, the same homeless person, I find myself at work once more; living the same moments. Nothing eventful happens. The following day is a lazy copy of the last one. Though at one point a friend comes in to tell me another friend is getting married.

I wonder if they are truly in ‘love’. I know the couple in question, and I question their affection; I wouldn’t call it love. But I suppose love has a flexible definition; everyone has their own perception of it. Maybe being in love is just finding someone who defines it the same way as you do. I think about love a lot, but thinking of love is not loving. I’d rather be loving.

On Thursday I have a half-day. I’m always rostered on like that. I’m not sure why. I never asked why. In the morning I notice someone has dropped a two-pound coin upon the floor. I look around and see that there is no one in sight. The shop-floor is empty, all but for me and my co-workers. I take the coin and put it in my pocket. I decide that if no one comes to claim it I will give it to the homeless person at the end of my shift.

As my shift’s conclusion tediously edges closer I get some news. One of my co-workers is feeling unwell. She has gone home. I’m needed to stay on for a full shift now. That’s fine. I say. Like it was my decision. Instead of going home I take my twenty-minute lunch break. Outside I see the homeless man. He has not moved. I feel the money in my pocket. But I did not bring any lunch as I did not think I would need it – I didn’t bring my wallet either, for the same reason. I don’t look at the homeless man as I pass him on my way to the bakery. I buy myself lunch. But the guilt is there for me. So I decide that tomorrow I will bring two pounds from my home to give to the homeless man. I decide that the money was never mine to spend but only to give. The homeless man should have it as he has little else, I think. He will have it another day.

The next day, after doing the same walk, passing the same shops, I see the same homeless person. I’m reminded of the promise I made to myself. I reach for my wallet. Inside there is no change. Only a ten pound note. I cannot give that to him. It’s too much. Afterall, I’m saving for my holiday. He will have to wait until tomorrow – but what’s one day upon a street where nothing ever seems to change.

When I walk home I notice a buzz of atmosphere unusual to a weekday evening. The chain-smokers are vaguely cheerful and the fish and chip shops are decidedly busier.  I soon realise that it is a Friday. I will not go to work tomorrow, nor the next day, as it is the weekend. I rarely work weekends. The homeless man will have to wait a while longer. Not that he knows he’s waiting.

Over the weekend I think about a lot of things. Though this time I don’t try and hold back from my thoughts. I think about love; as ever, without loving. I think about my future travels; as ever, without travelling. I fear if I think too much about life I will fail to properly live. I try to think about where I am, what I’m doing. Life’s such a fanciful thing. The tapestry of events that lead me to the current moment is woven with such thin thread, such fragile fabric. The series of decisions that came to pass to create me all hinge upon so many chance happenings. I could so easily be another person, doing another job, in a different town, with different plans. But somehow, I’m here. It’s a shame there's nothing seemingly profound about being here; even if, in reflection, the journey getting there certainly was.

On Monday I walk the same walk, pass the same shops, the same people, right up until I arrive opposite my work. I pass the bank, the one with the wall that usually props up the homeless person. But I do not see the same man. He is not sat at his claimed but cold spot. This is unusual. I feel the two pound coin in my pocket – his two pound coin, not mine. I go to work. I try not to count the hours away, but I do. At five I walk home. The homeless man is not to be seen.

The next day, once more, the homeless man is not there. Nor is he the day after. A week later, as if to replace him, though I don’t like to think of it that way, a new homeless person appears on my route to work. Though she sits with her back up against a different wall; a wall which belongs to the bookies. I wonder if I should give my two pound coin to her. I decide to wait a little longer. I hope the homeless man returns. I don’t like this change.

[lylesfur]

1999, a story

One telephone call had broken the silence a half hour before and Rachel had let it go to voicemail, then she listened for the chirp that would indicate a message, but there was no chirp.

A train ride away from her apartment, where she was tonight, was her mother’s house and her mother had just gotten a couple of new knees recently. On Monday when she went there she wanted her mother to sit outside in the back yard and get some sun and she did — she did — so she set up the portable toilet in the kitchen so it was closer to her thinking for awhile about where the best place would be to put it, moving it here and there, by the spice rack, by the stove. She knew it was weird peeing in an open room, especially the kitchen, with the food and the plates and dishes so close. It was a new house and she wondered why her mother hadn’t gotten a house with a bathroom on the first floor. That would have made more sense, considering the knees maybe, the shoulders and the hips to come. She assumed that was what was down the pike.

The back yard was nice — kind of close to the tracks. The train went by every once in awhile, but other than that it was generally peaceful, except on Tuesday when the neighbors were out doing things, so, though the sitting in the back yard in the sun had been a success, her mother wanted to sit on the front porch instead, away from their noise and neighborly inquiries. There had been no need for the portable toilet on Monday so this time they just hoped for the best.

Rachel would visit daily until things were back to normal, she thought, and the new knees were working as good as they could, or until Rachel had something better to do, whichever came first. Tonight she was just at home. She was doodling and writing on a pad and waiting, sort of, for maybe the phone to ring again, sort of, or to get tired, to sleep, to wake, to return to her mother’s house. To make her some lunch the next day.

She got up to make herself a drink. On her way to the kitchen she passed the single chair she had found on the street that was now under the painting on the wall over next to the hall. The spot on the chair had not been there when she found it. There was some kind of smudge on the floor too that was only visible from a certain angle, she noticed. If only she had 15 more dollars a week someone could come in and clean, she thought. She had no time to clean, no way, she was as busy as a one legged guy in an ass kicking contest sitting on the couch and doing other things. But she might wipe up the spilled juice that was now hard as dried jam in the bottom of the refrigerator before she went to bed. She might put the stack of books away. She might look in the back of the paper at the classifieds, or read a magazine, or continue doing the small things she had spent large amounts of time doing, and the like, until she got tired.

She returned to the living room with her drink and picked up her pad again and thought about writing about what was wrong with her apartment — like, the bird had died, and the piano player upstairs whose practicing she liked had just moved out recently — but, instead, she wrote down the names of all the people she had had sex with and even some of the ones she just kissed a lot, friends, strangers. Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet, she thought. She wrote all this down. She read over the list and then started to feel remorse seeing all these people on the same piece of paper; she thought it was mean to have such a list and crossed them out. She could still sort of see the names through the scratchings, a mess of lines that looked angry even, over perfectly nice people. What have I done? she thought. She went back into the kitchen to get a Sharpie to cross them out some more, maybe she could just make a drawing of a big black square there, she thought.

Last night she went out. She was talking to someone about blanks being shot from guns. It was bothering her today that she hadn’t asked if the guns had to be real. Later — later than other late nights even — she talked to a woman who always put her hand over her mouth when she laughed with whom she’d had conversations before that she thought might be missing sentences because they were hard to follow. Earlier in the year, before it was even really warm enough, they had gone to the beach together with a group of people — the Jersey shore — and Rachel had driven them all. The woman covered her mouth and laughed again as she said they should go back to the beach the next day. She told her she had to go attend to a bionic woman. She couldn’t go to the beach. Maybe some other time.

“Oh that’s too bad,” said the woman.

She thought maybe the woman had suggested the trip to her because she wanted her to drive again. She must’ve not known she didn’t have a car anymore because one Sunday morning in April she had woken up and couldn’t find her keys. Or her car. The police told her she had parked and left the car running; that’s what the person who was found to have been driving her car when he ran into a light pole had insisted. He was also drunk. She wondered, silently, how she could’ve gotten into her apartment if she had parked and left her car running with all her keys dangling from the ignition — a neighbor must have let her in? The logistics were complicated, so she told the police she must have dropped the keys nearby, though really she had no recollection of what happened but no way did she tell them that. The whole thing was kind of disorienting.

In court a few weeks later she was told to memorize her license plate and be able to describe her car in detail. The man was found guilty of stealing and got a DUI. He did, she told herself, he really did steal her car, even if it was true she had inadvertently left it there for the taking.

She stopped driving after that; gave her broken car to a church. Then she broke her collar bone riding her bike home one night pretending to do swervy stunts. This was all months ago but now when she slept on her left side she woke up with a massive crick in her neck.  

Before taking the train to her mother’s the next day she rode her bicycle around the drives that bank the river, around the drives, around the drives, around the drives, stopped after the bridge and had a Snapple, took a rest and watched the freight train go over the bridge. She came home and with equal and opposite caloric effect ate all of the leftover chocolate cheesecake her mother had made before the new knees went in. Her mother always made the chocolate cheesecake for her birthday except for last year when she didn’t eat dairy.

She called her to thank her and say the cake was so delicious and her mother said “Really? I hope so. I don’t know because I made it in my underwear — it was so hot.”

“Ok, mom, well, I’m on my way. Do you need anything from the Wawa?” Her mom was about to say no but she said, “Never mind, we should go out today.”

She thought her mother should get some exercise too. Once at the house she folded up the walker, put it, and her mother, in her mother’s car and drove them to a Bed, Bath & Beyond, a chain of stores Rachel had noticed were always reliably laid out in a circle, kind of like a track and field track. This way her mother could get some exercise and if she needed anything, they could shop too. They walked around. passing the bed, bath, closet, kitchen, living room, and gadget departments four times and then she convinced her mother to go around once more and they bought a new bath mat, toothpaste-blue, and a CD cleaner kit.

Her mother seemed tired and said her knees ached a bit. Rachel noticed how thin she was and thought maybe they should stop at a supermarket on the way home. Her mother didn’t feel like taking the elevator down to the parking lot so they folded up the walker and headed for the escalator. Before Rachel could start questioning herself privately about the aesthetics of this whole Bed Bath & Beyond-as-an-exercise-option idea because now her mother was talking about how nice the Wissahickon Park trails were at this time of year, a guy came bounding down the steps two at a time carrying one of those giant shopping bags, probably holding a juicer or a cappuccino maker or a crock pot, and edged by them really brusquely. A cold wince shot down Rachel’s spine as he nearly knocked into her mother and her knees. Then he pushed through the parking lot doors and kept going without bothering to hold them for her mother who was just exiting the escalator.

“Are you OK...?,” Rachel said, all of a sudden hating this place and everyone else in it.

“What?” asked her mother, looking around.

“Never mind,” said Rachel as she unfolded the walker in front of her and went to open the doors.

When they got back to her mother’s house, first things first, Rachel put down the new bath mat in the bathroom. The old one was dingy white, with more loft to its yarn than the toothpaste-blue new one, which was pragmatically flat. She was about to stuff the old one ridiculously in the tiny bathroom trash can but thought maybe she could find some use for it herself.

Before going back downstairs she looked in at the room she thought might be hers. It really was just a guest room. There was something in a small dish on the dresser — two things — a plastic figurine like you might find on a model train set, wearing a flowing pink dress and a green bonnet, even a minuscule purse, and a tiny wooden pig smaller than her fingernail. Like tiny meteors they blasted into her psyche and kicked up all kinds of emotional dust. She had not seen them in so long. Certainly not since she had moved out of her mother’s nine years before. As she turned the little pig over between her fingers it occurred to her that her body — her physical being — had never been in its presence before because all of the cells in her body had exhausted and regenerated themselves in the time since she last saw it. She had heard this was a scientific fact. But she remembered this pig so well. She knew both of these tiny things as if they had been with her every day. They, unlike her, were exactly the same. She felt very different.

This piece of fiction was written for the do you feel the siren reading series, which took place in September and November, 2017 at www.days-la.com.

[emedhelp]

Trump administration proposals could cause millions to lose food stamps

Three proposed rule changes by the Trump administration could cause millions of poor people to lose access to food stamps and decrease the size of the benefit for millions more.

Over the past year, the Department of Agriculture proposed three changes to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, known as SNAP or food stamps. The new rules create stricter work requirements for program eligibility, cap deductions for utility allowances and “reform” the way 40 states automatically enroll families into SNAP when they receive other forms of federal aid.

A study by the Urban Institute released this week examined the three rules in combination for the first time and found that 3.7 million fewer people would receive SNAP in an average month, 2.2 million households would see their average monthly benefits drop by $127, more than 3 million others would see an average drop of $37 per month, and 982,000 students would lose access to free or reduced lunches.

“What we found is that overall the three proposed changes would reduce the number of households participating in SNAP by about 11 percent if this was implemented in 2018," said Laura Wheaton, a senior fellow at the Urban Institute who conducted the study. "It’s about a 9.4 percent reduction in the number of people participating and about an 8 percent reduction in overall benefits.”

Critics and experts say that would be antithetical to the program's goals to address food insecurity in the United States.

Craig Gundersen, an agricultural and consumer economics professor at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign who has studied the program for more than two decades, said that about a million people could become food insecure because of the change. He added that 50 percent of those 3.7 million SNAP beneficiaries were already food insecure despite the assistance.

The changes, he said, would put many Americans in a worse position, increasing hunger and health issues. Each additional adult who becomes food insecure sees an additional $2,000 in healthcare costs, Gundersen explained.

"The essential goal of the program is to mitigate hunger and its consequences in the United States,” he said. "Anything that impedes SNAP of doing that is very problematic as it leads to food insecurity in our country."

The USDA, meanwhile, estimates that the changes would reduce the SNAP budget by about $4.2 billion.

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Secretary of Agriculture Sonny Perdue defended the work requirements in a USA Today column, emphasizing that it would save taxpayer dollars.

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“At USDA, our informal motto is ‘Do Right and Feed Everyone,’” Perdue wrote. “With these proposed improvements, we will ‘do right’ by the taxpayers and restore the dignity of work to the able-bodied who receive SNAP benefits. And, we will ‘feed everyone’ by ensuring the health and stability of SNAP for those who truly need it.”

All of the new rules have gone through a comment period with the changes to utilities currently taking feedback until Monday. Tens of thousands of people have already responded, with most providing negative responses.

The latest rule change proposed by the Trump administration would cause millions of people to take smaller deductions for shelter and utility costs, which are considered when a person applies for SNAP benefits. Critics say that would force people to choose between buying food and paying for housing.

Gundersen said this change will prove to be a major cost for those living in metropolitan areas with high living costs.

It could also create a steeper financial cliff for some beneficiaries. Those in danger of losing access to SNAP might be discouraged from working because the new calculation would put them in a higher income bracket, causing them to lose access, Gundersen explained

“On the one hand they want to encourage people to work, but on the other they would be taking away that incentive,” Gundersen said.

But the main issue is that SNAP is not intended to be a work program in the first place, Gundersen said, but instead aimed to address food insecurity within the United States.

As it operates now, SNAP does not discourage people from participating in the labor market, he said.

"There are some assistance programs that do discourage people to work, but this is not one of them," Gundersen said, adding that what lawmakers should be asking is: "What makes this program work so well and why does it work well as compared to other programs?"

These new rules also have advocates in states like Nevada worried. Nevada could see up to 22 percent of recipients lose access to food stamps, which could be devastating in a place where 12.3 percent of households face food insecurity, according to the USDA.

“SNAP is related to hunger and getting people the nutrition they need,” said Jocelyn Lantrip, the communications director at Food Bank of Northern Nevada. “Food shouldn’t be a luxury.”

With a tech boom raising income levels but not enough to cover rising housing costs, Lantrip said that these changes could create further food insecurity issues, which remain close to the levels that the Food Bank of Northern Nevada saw during the recession.

At the height of the recession, Lantrip said her food bank helped 103,000 people per month. Now, during a period of perceived economic stability, she said they are helping 91,000.

Food banks like hers wouldn’t be able to accommodate for the needs of an additional 196,000 people, which is the number in Nevada who would likely need help accessing food if these rules were to go into effect, Lantrip said.

“That’s really hard for food banks to keep up with if you have that kind of decline in benefits,” she said. “We support people if they fall outside of the safety net, but we can’t replace the safety net as a food bank. We’re spinning our wheels already, because when unemployment is low people assume hunger is low, but we’re just helping more working poor than before.”

[shannrussell-blog1]

The trip to Abminga got off to a chaotic start. The 4WD had to have some major surgery which was a week overdue. So instead of an orderly progression through the tasks, it was more like herding cats.

The purpose of this trip was to help an historian friend visit Bloods Creek as part of research into a book on Ted Colson who was the first white man to cross the Simpson Desert, in 1936. He left from Andado Station with five camels, an aboriginal friend named Peter Eringa, and of course his dog which strangely is not mentioned in official histories. Two weeks later he arrived at the Birdsville pub, and three days later he left to go home, nailing a tin plaque to the Poeppel Corner post on the way, and arrived home after a thirty day journey. Quite a remarkable feat when one considers that explorers like Sturt had tried the same trip and failed. But I digress.

Red dust. Green verge. It’s amazing what a bit of rain does to the outback.

The route in 2016 (Plan A) was to head up the black top to Leigh Creek then the Oodnadatta Track (part 1, 2, 3) to Oodnadatta. From there we would drive to Abminga, which is 70km south by east of Finke as the crow flies. From Abminga we would visit Bloods Creek, 50 km to the east, and return to our camp at Abminga. A quick two day visit to friends at Erldunda, then back to Oodnadatta and Maree, with a detour to the Painted Desert. From Maree we would go to Montecollina Bore on the Strzelecki Track, then south to Yunta via Chambers Gorge, then home to Adelaide. Two 4WD vehicles, two sat phones and UHF radios, well-supplied with fuel, water, and food. We thought the trip would take us 15 days and cover about 3,500km.

Abminga Station is on the southern side of the SA/NT border from Charlotte Waters, on the Old Ghan Railway. 

Monday 29th of August – Adelaide to Burra Gorge

Got away on time, midday. Only forgot the thermos and bacon. Fine weather heading north but overcast and starting to rain by the time we reached Burra Gorge – World’s End Biodiversity Reserve as it is now called. Where do they get these names?

Coffee in Kapunda on the way to Burra, then lunch on the banks of an overgrown creek. A useful tip for those who forget something: the general store in Robertstown is one of those old country stores that have everything, somewhere, just find it.

The fierce Aussie outback showing a bit of colour.

The countryside is green and domesticated and prosperous looking at this time of year. Very relaxing and good for sightseeing. This slowed the driving but made the journey safer. Must remember that.

It felt good to stop early and select our campsite at leisure, even if rain was threatening. Inevitably, it started to drizzle then rain as soon as we started to set up the tent on our camper trailer. A good night’s sleep then cereal for breakfast, as we’d forgotten the bacon.

Tuesday 30th August – Burra Gorge to Leigh Creek

Rain stopped overnight but the tent was still damp when we packed up, but we were running late to meet our friend at 9:30 so we had to rush into Burra. At the usual place I had a tiddy oggy, which was brilliant. A real Cornish pasty from the mining days. Then onto Peterborough, Hawker, Orroroo, and Leigh Creek.

We went through several small country towns which seemed to be dying, if not almost dead. One that caught our imagination was Terowie. The bypass road to Peterborough from the Barrier Highway has really isolated the town and few people bother to stop. Despite that setback, the people in Terowie have tried to make something of their town. It is clean, and despite an obvious lack of money, it is well kept. We saw some features that are worth preserving such as the old blacksmith shop, with a classic curved top wooden door; a centenary/pioneer park, a feature park for children; and a quite imaginative metal sculpture park. Terowie is worth stopping at for a coffee, and a look around.

Metal sculptures in Terowie. A typical country town in decline that shows great human spirit. A must-visit if you’re passing nearby. 

It makes you wonder about the government’s policies on the country towns. They are obviously dying, and there is little work or financial incentive to live in the country.

The old shop fronts on the main drag in Terowie. Long gone but well preserved. 

We camped in Leigh Creek Caravan Park that night with our friend, by tradition, taking a room at the pub. Leigh Creek is also a town worth a visit. The government has obviously slated this town to die but the people are fighting back. They are cheerful and optimistic but don’t know what the future will hold. All the facilities are there to make this town work – supermarket, pub, shops, school, swimming pool, caravan park, post office, police station, hospital and medical centre, petrol station and workshop, public works department, pipelines, sewerage system, good domestic roads and, most importantly, people already there who are eager to make a go of anything. It seems a waste to desert it all. But silence from the government. Remember the pride of this amazing town when it was shifted, holus-bolus, in 1982 when they wanted to expand the coal mine?

Wednesday 31st August – Leigh Creek to Erldunda

We now had to make a major revision of our plans. Overnight all the dirt roads in the outback were closed because of rain. We had heard the forecast on ABC Country radio, so the closures were not a surprise but were a disappointment. Our priority at this time was to find out if there was any more rain forecasted and when the roads might be open again. The police in Leigh Creek are very helpful. They thought the roads could possibly be open again early the following week. Out with the maps and onto Plan B. We judged that there would be no significant rain in the area in the next few days, so we hit the black top and backtracked to Pt Augusta, then north to Erldunda. We anticipated the roads being opened by the time we left Erldunda. This would just reverse our order of march to return to Maree. It did have the advantage of giving us the chance of a good look at the Australian Arid Lands Botanic Gardens just north of Port Augusta. It’s a fascinating place that shows what can be done with little or no water. And there’s a good café for lunch.

2016 has proven to be a bumper year for desert wild flowers like Sturt’s Desert Pea. 

We weren’t looking forward to the long drive north but the recent rain added more floral interest. Everything from Sturt’s Desert Pea, native daisies, Green Pussytail, native bush tomatoes, Blue Pincushions, and many others. Sometimes carpets of flowers, sometimes just individuals, but it shows how rain transforms the inland. The east coast country has its greens and mountains, but the flat inland produces shy surprises like these.

**

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Michael’s outback expedition up to Abminga which’ll be published next week. Hopefully there isn’t a Plan C, right?

Have you visited Abminga Station? 

The post A 4WD Trip To Abminga Station – Part 1 appeared first on Snowys Blog.

[forresthom-blog]

23/02/19 The Story of the Most American Day of my Life... and Other Slighty Less American Days

This is the next installment of the Making of the Angels in Blue! You would have thought that after two weeks my wide-eyed wonder for all things American would begin to fade. Wrong. American culture is as vast as the country to which it belongs, and is the gift that keeps on giving. Last Monday, when I visited Alexandria’s President’s Day Parade, it was the most American day of my entire life. My other days, still very American, as you would expect, but not quite so unabashedly as my day in Alexandria.

At the end of last week, I finished my time at the National Archives and began my work at the Library of Congress. Yet, before I left the National Archives, a seemingly inconspicuous box on a trolley of around ten boxes was to hold the most exciting artefact I have handled on my trip to date. The box contained letters sent to the Surgeon General of the United States during the Civil War. Most were all the same: small pieces of discoloured paper, filled with illegible scrawls. However, one had a paperclipped note attached - it read, ‘to be digitised’. I pulled the piece of paper out and, to my amazement, there was the signature of Ulysses S. Grant: Union General and 18th President of the United States of America. Like an excited school-child, I decided to touch his signature - just to say that I had!

After touching Ulysses S. Grant’s signature (!), I went to the National Portrait Gallery. The gallery’s Hall of Presidents contains portraits of all former US Presidents - including that of the 18th (Grant) is above. Grant was a Captain in the US Army in the 1850s. However, he was rather fond of the bottle, allegedly as a result of being both bored with the army and being upset about being apart from his wife. He then resigned (or was thrown out for being drunk) from the army in 1854. When war broke out in 1861, Grant rushed back into the army, but it took time for him to regain his old rank. But, due to his great knack for winning battles (and a distinct lack of West Point educated officers), he eventually became the head of the entire US Army in 1864. As a result of his wartime status, he was later able to run successfully for the Presidency, and served two terms from 1869 to 1877.

My walk to the Library of Congress was much more exciting than that to the National Archives. On leaving Union Station (yet another neo-classical building in DC), I walked directly towards the gleaming marble dome of the Capitol Building. Then, traversing between the imposing Capitol and the solemn, stately Supreme Court, I found my way to the Library of Congress: the biggest library in the world*.

* The Library of Congress itself claims to be the biggest (with over 168 million catalogued items). Yet, the British Library is estimated to have somewhere between 150-200 million items. Wikipedia places the British Library top, but this position is subject to it having more items than the Library of Congress’ 168 million. What is not up for debate, however, is that the Library of Congress does indeed have the largest shelf space of all world libraries. In short, the world’s biggest library is a case of ‘mine is bigger than yours’ that is harder to prove than most...

Above is my photograph of the Library of Congress’ Main Reading Room. This is the library’s showpiece and had a grand total of about three people working in it. Clearly, most people carrying out research do not work in this room. In fact, I was placed in a separate building in a room whose carpet would not look amiss in a local Elementary School.

The room is nearly forty metres from the floor to the top of the dome. The sixteen bronze figures (six of which can be seen in the photo above) remided me of the stone figures on the front of Birmingham’s Great Hall. In fact, the figures of Shakespeare, Newton, Beethoven and Plato can be found at both sites! The entrance to Birmingham’s Great Hall is basically the same as the Main Reading Room at the Library of Congress.

The Library of Congress was founded in 1800 but was burnt down during the British ransacking (whoops) of Washington DC in 1814 during the War of 1812 (yes, it is a bit confusing that the War of 1812 actually spanned 1812-1815). The library’s books were lost. Thomas Jefferson, who had amassed a great collection of books (some nine to ten thousand, the original library only held three thousand), sold his volumes to re-establish the library. Ironically, two-thirds of his books were later burnt in another fire in 1851... Nonetheless, in recognition of the receipt of the books, the main building of the library (built from 1890-1897) was renamed in Jefferson’s honour in 1980.

The best part about working in the Library of Congress was lunchtime baseball... Lunchtime baseball does not exist (unfortunately). What do exist, however, are many exhibits, rooms and artefacts to see; my lunch breaks consisted of exploring these.

America does not stop giving at the weekend! America has let to catch on fully to the Parkrun scene. But, it currently has twenty-nine events with an average turnout of around forty-five runners. For the past two weeks, I have popped down to my local run at Fletcher’s Cove (a short bike ride down the Capital Crescent Trail), which runs on an out-and-back route along the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. The event is incredibly friendly and has much more of a community feel to it than the over nine hundred strong event at Cannon Hill in Birmingham.

And they’re off! Being a smaller run than I am used to in Birmingham, it is exciting to be in with a chance of a win! In fact, I have finished second two weeks running to another British runner - putting the locals to shame!

The weekend just gone was an extended weekend. Monday was a Federal Holiday (Bank Holiday in British English!). The occassion: President’s Day. President’s Day was originally just called ‘Washington’s Birthday’ which is actually the 22nd of February. However, rather conveniently, Abraham Lincoln’s Birthday is the 12th of February. ‘President’s Day’, held on the third Monday of February each year, handily falls between the 15th and 21st of February - slap bang between the two most well-known historical Presidents!

This year was the 287th Birthday of George Washington and Lincoln’s big 210. Alexandria, a town just across the Potomac River into Virginia, is famous for its lavish President’s Day Parade.

A President’s Day Parade? That sounds very American! And it was. When the warm-up acts in the town square included a local high school’s band and cheer team - and the US Marine Corps Band played the Star Spangled Banner - I felt as though I had already experienced the most American environment I had ever felt. That was until the parade began in earnest and knocked that experience out of the park!

The real George and Martha Washington! Looking good for 287...

The parade was announced by the town crier and was followed by cops on motorcycles (yes, cops on motorcycles. Police does not cut it. You can imagine it. The leathers. The sunglasses. The moustaches... ). There were fire trucks, more bands, Revolutionary War reenactors, Korean War veterans, jeeps, classic cars, marching cadet corps, Scouts, Girl Scouts dressed up as Girl Scout Cookies (I thought these cookies were just a thing in the films, but turns out they are an actual brand sold en masse by the Girl Scouts and their parents!), and even a stunt display team wearing fezzes in mini orange cars from an organisation that raises money for children’s hospitals (you had to see it to believe it). In other words, it was an America overload - and I never wanted it to end!

I was so hyped in Alexandria that I bought my very own star spangled banner for one dollar (bargain) to wave gleefully at the passing parade. I was also apprehensive when the Revolutionary War soldiers demonstrated the firing of their muskets. I did not want them to think I was a British Red Coat spy, so utilised my flag as a cover...

The local sights in DC have not got old. They are still exciting and impressive, despite passing them every day you can always see them from a new angle or at a new time of day.

Seeing the Capitol from new vantages is fun. Here, the dome peeks from above the trees - ‘helloooo’.

President Trump announced his declaration of an emergency at the Mexican Border outside the White House the morning I took this photo. In the evening, all looks quiet and serene as the President’s home is impressively illuminated for the night.

On Wednesday this week, it snowed pretty heavily. My famous last words on Tuesday were, “don’t believe the hype. It won’t snow!” Unfortunately, due to the snow and the waterlogged ground that followed, and forecasts for rain on the day, the Civil War Winter Drill with the 3rd US at Fort Ward was cancelled. It would have been a great experience and I thank Jeff Joyce and the rest of the 3rd US for inviting me along and being so willing to accomodate me. Perhaps if I visit the US some time again, I shall be able to respond to the call!

Dashing through the snow! Here I am, on the Arizona Avenue Bridge over the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. It was originally built for the trains of the Balitmore and Ohio Railroad in 1910. It is an impressive structure and it is not hard to imagine the iron hulks that used to steam across it.

My working week this week and next week has been and will be at the National Library of Medicine within the complex of the National Institutes of Health (NIH). The NIH is Montgomery County, Maryland’s biggest employer: employing over twenty thousand workers. The campus is enormous and has its own bus service and police and fire departments. It is also the home of Medical Students’ favourite websites: PubMed and Medline! It is a jaw-droppingly enormous place and it is rather surreal to be visiting the organisation whose website I visited almost daily while on the Medicine programme at Birmingham.

And with that, my second week in America is over. America is the gift that keeps on giving and Americans certainly do not do anything by half measures: whether it is their parades, government medical complexes, or their world famous portion sizes. With three weeks left, and a trip to New York City next weekend, I am eager to discover what the country has for me next. Considering my experiences have been confined to Bethesda in Maryland, the District of Columbia and a small foray into Virginia, I cannot begin to imagine what I will find when I venture beyond in the coming weeks. 

[disciple-of-justice-blog]

Jar of Hearts

A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad 

The little two-bedroom Chicago apartment they lived in was small enough that he could hear someone sneeze in the living room all the way from the bedroom which he and his older sister shared and most of the time Adeel at eight years old paid no heed to noise unless it was his mother yelling his full name (he was in deep trouble then) or calling them out for lunch and dinner. There was one sound that never failed to get him up from his bed where he sat watching the streets outside from his window however; the thin plinkety-plink of coins in glass. He would open the door as quietly as he would and tiptoed over to the thin wall that separated the cramped living room from the kitchenette where he would watch his father hunch down near one of the cupboards with a glass jar that was slowly filling up with money. It seemed an odd thing to do---they were almost always without money, his mother would dither about the rice running out or having no flour for paratha bread and all father would tell her was to cook for three instead of four. At first it seemed as though they were all to eat less, but it became clear over several nights that what father meant was to leave him out of dinner entirely. Yet there was money sitting in the jar while the man starved, and Adeel couldn't make heads or tails of why. 

He told Amira about it and they both took out the jar one day when father and mother were out working and laid out the small mountain of coins and dollar bills on the floor. Amira was older and she knew how to count to a hundred and perfected her timetables which he still stumbled over, so she could count a lot faster than he could; he simply sorted out the bills from the quarters and the quarters from the dimes. 

"Five-hundred and ninety-five." Said his sister in a whisper as they took a step back looked at the neatly-stacked rows of coins and notes in awe. "That's so much." "How much is that in candy?" Adeel whispered back---to an eight-year old, a hundred dollars could buy the world what more five. 

She didn't have the time to give him an answer, as the doorknob to their unit rattled and turned; the realisation of how many hours had passed crashed upon them and the reverence turned to panic as they tried to jam everything back into the jar and store it in the cabinet but they'd only gotten as far as screwing the lid on again when father walked in. The silence when he saw the two of them looking guilty as sin was awkward and he was the first to speak up in his weary, work-worn voice; "What are you two doing?" 

"What is this for?" both Adeel and Amira had blurted out at once as they held out the jar. 

"We could buy more food with this!" Amira piped up as Adeel nodded eagerly before adding on; "And you can eat dinner with us again!" 

"......It's for something more important than food for me." The bear of a man rumbled as he tightened the lid on the jar firmly and stowed it back in the cupboard before placing his hands on the heads of his children. "It's for your future. Both of you. So you can go to college and study and have better lives than this. For that I can afford to eat one meal a day." 

Adeel and his sister both blinked at him in silence, the explanation settling in and when the true magnitude of it did, they hugged him fiercely around the middle and saw him crack a rare smile. Nothing more was spoken on the matter save the occasional snippets of conversation Adeel would catch over the clatter of plates and running water in the kitchenette between husband and wife and he could barely contain his glee as he reported back to Amira one night. 

"A thousand!" He hissed at her as she fiddled with the knob of the old, second-hand radio father had bought for them at a garage sale. "He's going to open a bank account soon!" 

The gleeful grins and father's chipper humming later that morning, the good vibes all came to a screeching halt when Adeel and his sister came back to their unit to find the door ajar and the living room ransacked. They didn't have much to their name, even the old radio in their bedroom was hardly worth peddling, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw the cupboard where the jar was stored completely barren. Gone. All of it was gone. 

They had run all the way to the restaurant mother worked at washing dishes which was five blocks from the apartment, yelling about what had happened and she had run to them and wrapped her arms around around their shoulders, merely relieved that the robbery had happened when they were still at school. It was relief that his father shared as well when the man finally came home at dusk but as stoic as his father was, it was hard to hide the raw despair which he saw in the way the man's shoulders sagged while staring at the cupboard at 3am in the morning. It wasn't much to those who had lived here their entire lives but for immigrants, asylum seekers who came here with next to nothing to their names, it felt like Sisyphus being forced to push a boulder up a hill only to have it roll back down every time. 

Father had starved for that one thousand and it seemed like an impossible amount to capture twice but as Adeel and his sister wandered around the nearby stores on the rickety bicycle they shared after school while learning to read the advertisements and flyers pasted on the walls and lamps and grocer windows, his determination was galvanized by how many 'Wanted' flyers were up calling for workers.  Finding someone willing to hire a ten-year old however was another issue as the stores he went to turned him away the moment they saw him queuing up behind other much older applicants. He'd lost count of how many establishments they had walked into and Amira had asked him to give up for the day and try tomorrow when he marched into one last store with its flyer which he'd torn off an alley wall. This he placed on the counter of the owner who shot him a piercing glare from behind half-moon spectacles and stood up to peer at him closely like a scientist studying a particular interesting specimen.

"Well?" Came the gruff inquiry from behind the man's impressive walrus-like mustache. 

"I would like work sir." Adeel stated flatly, seeing no point in beating around the bush. He tried his best to suppress his accent, noting the furtive glances some of the shopkeepers gave him when they heard him speak.  "You need somebody to deliver papers, I can do that.”

"Fair 'nuff. There's probably a hundred kids older and stronger than you looking for a quick buck though, why should I hire you?" Came the man's inquiry with a wry smile that showed off several missing teeth. 

For a moment, Adeel felt his tongue unable to form words but the sight of his father hunched over the cupboard and missing from the dinner table was enough kindling for the flickering fire of determination within as he placed both hands on the counter and met the store owner's gave unwaveringly. 

"I want a future, but I don't want my Baba to starve for it anymore like he did before this." The ten-year old spoke earnestly and the two patrons left in the store stared at him in wonderment. "He works hard to feed us and make sure we are in school and have text books. I want to work for myself so I can go to college. So please let me work here!" 

The owner seemed taken aback for a few moments before letting put a bark of a laugh and Adeel felt a a flush of embarrassment rise up in his neck; had he said something wrong? 

"Aren't an optimistic little shit, you know how many people in this city work two jobs and still can't make it through college?" Came the snort of derision and Adeel shrunk into himself though what the man said after gave him some measure of reassurance.  "But better a worker who has something on line than some yuppie who just wants extra cash for another video game or whatever. Yeah kid, fine. You're hired. Come here tomorrow after school if you want to get started. Papers and flyers---Twenty bucks from Mondays to Saturdays, I'll throw in an extra five bucks if you wanna come in on Sundays." 

The bright grin was one he couldn't helped as he bowed in the shop owner's presence, not quite noticing the bemused expression the man wore for a few seconds. 

"Thank you, I won't let you down!" 

The ruse wasn't hard to keep up---their mother was at work until five in the evening, and they were on their own devices until then as Amira cycled and he ran around delivering whatever was asked of him. Then Amira had the idea of collecting tin cans from dumpsters and their neighbors to be sent to something called a 'recycling facility' for an additional ten dollars a week, and he was certain that the glares pedestrians shot them as they blithely rummaged through dumpsters were derisive, but he didn't care. Every dollar mattered, every chance at making one in a manner which didn't impeded on their schoolwork (Mother would have skinned them) wasn't passed up. 

There were skinned knees, the occasional scrapes and bruises from falling over which he would attribute to recess roughhousing whenever mother asked about them and the one time Amira had to pedal the fastest she ever had with him clinging to her for dear life when some street hoodlums had given them chase, but the store owner has demanded to know what had happened for him to have come back from his run so shaken up and he didn't know what the man did, but he never saw the thugs again. Of course, they couldn't keep things a secret forever and a trickle of news managed to work its way back towards their parents about seven months later.

"My friend at work told me she saw you two trawling through rubbish two blocks from the shop." Mother had asserted during dinner one night as she cleared the tables and beckoned for them to sit down with their sternly-frowning father. "And another saw you three miles away from the apartment. Do you know how far that is? What on earth were you two doing? Who are you seeing?" Adeel merely offered her a smile as Amira and he ran to their rooms before mother could stop either of them and came out with two jars of money which they hefted upon the table proudly, much to the bug-eyed surprise of their parents more so his father who immediately stood up. "What is--where did you get this?!" Came the deep baritone of the man's voice which was on the verge of scolding---there were more unsavory ways of earning money in the city, his fear was understandable. "Papers!" Adeel explained quickly, hoping to put his father's heart at ease. "The man with the sundry store two blocks from here. Mr.Lamarque, he gave me a job! I send papers and flyers to people and Amira cycles me there!" "A-And we collect the tins for recycling! It's not garbage, they pay for it!" Amira added on as their parents traded shocked and baffled glances. "There's five hundred in each. We counted." Adeel spoke up again as he pushed both jars towards his father. "A thousand, for the thousand you saved for us." A hush fell over the dining room table as everything sank in and Adeel saw his father's shoulders shake while his mother clapped her hands over her mouth. He had never seen them this way, not when he and his sister were concerned and immediately his blood went cold---they were going to yell. The streets were dangerous, who knew what could have happened to them if they hadn't been careful? "Idiots." Said their father quietly and Adeel and Amira both flinched, expecting the man's voice to rise; it did, but not in the rage they were expecting. "You should have told me, what if the thief came here again?! All that hard work for nothing like what happened, you should have asked me to open an account for you!" He surprise them further by pulling them both in for a tight hug and kissing their foreheads as Adeel buried his face in the man's shoulder. "Mere aulaad......you didn't have to!" 

"We wanted to Baba!" Adeel said fiercely as Amira wiped her nose on her sleeve and added,  "We don't want you to go hungry like last time! We want you to sit at the table with us, this way we'll have enough! You work really hard for us, let us work for us too!” 

“We’ll go to the bank first thing tomorrow.”  Their father’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke and mother had now joined them in the hug, tears streaming down her face. “You’re right. Both of you. We can do this together and if you want to work for your future, I will support you----but tell your mother and I next time, because you are our future, you understand?” 

Adeel nodded dutifully, breaking into a gap-toothed grin which his sister mirrored as he looked around the cramped apartment unit they shared with its leaking ceilings and creaking floorboards and faded wallpaper; One day, they would have enough to be out of here---all of them to a beautiful place with heating and hot water where father would no longer have to worry about the rent anymore. 

“Together. That’s a promise!” 

[thedreamingdinosaur]

Hello Everyone!

Right first of all, I am so sorry that I haven’t been posting lately. Uni and work and life and yeah you get the picture. This is going to be a fairly long post I feel as I have a fair bit I want to share with you! so lets get started.

1- Spontaneous Trip! So a few weeks ago me and Heather decided we were bored. I didn’t have work… She was off… so what do we do? We go to London. Yes we did a very spontaneous trip to London! And when I mean spontaneous, I mean with probably 1 day in advance planning. This isn’t the first time I’ve done a very last minute trip to London though so I was sort of prepared to leave at any given minute. This was also a great chance for me to really test out my camera on my new phone as well and boy oh boy was I impressed!

We knew the destination but what did we want to do? Well one thing we had talked about previously was doing our own little BBC Sherlock Tour.

Map of our tour for any future references

Now since we only had 1 day in London and a lot to see we had to narrow it down and be very specific with timings and such. So class pay attention as I am about to begin!

We begun at Waterloo station, after a very eventful train journey up there, seeing a very cute dog, lots of protesters and an ex teacher at our secondary school (while bitching about old school teachers…) From here we made our way up to Baker Street.

Baker Street tube station has to be one of my favourites, if it’s possible to have a favourite tube station. The art on the walls of the station are just so eye catching… IT’S SHERLOCKCEPTION! Diddy Sherlocks creating a bigger Sherlock! Outside the station is a huge statue of the consulting detective himself wearing the famous cape and deerstalker while smoking on his pipe. Last time I saw the statue I was unable to get a decent photo so was quite pleased with the one I did get.

After some gawking over a station, we walked down Baker Street to the museum at 221b. Now we didn’t go in the museum (as much as I wanted and still want to) but we did get some pictures of it (THANK YOU TO THE BUS DRIVER WHO STOPPED TO LET ME TAKE A PHOTO!)

221B Baker Street and Hudson’s Restaurant

We then walked down to the Landmark Hotel, where John attempted to propose to Mary and Sherlock intruded LOL! I don’t have a photo to show you unfortunately because I got a little scared of the man on the door… Yeah I’m a wuss. ANYWAY! Once we had visited the hotel we took a nice stroll down to North Gower Street. Our original plan was to walk straight down Marylebone Road but that plan was disrupted by some police saying we weren’t allowed under the tape to pass through, even though other people were!!! So we got diverted the longer way.

Nevertheless we made it!

The filming location for 221B Baker Street in BBC Sherlock is actually 187 North Gower Street just a 20 minute walk away from the well known location. Speedy’s Cafe is run by some amazing and really friendly staff members who seem very willing to talk about the fame the café have received. Because it was lunch time and we were bloody cold, we decided to get something to eat and a nice warm cup of tea while at speedy’s and it had to be one of the best lunch’s in the world! It was lovely and quiet in their too, once we had started eating anyway, but this could be because we actually got there 30 minutes before it was due to close. The café was surrounded with Sherlock memorabilia with photos taken from filming over the years of Benedict and Martin, fan art, and even menu items named after the famous duo. There was even a dollar bill with Ben’s Sherlock on! Which I thought was amazing and really wanted! To top it off we sat in the space that Ben and Martin sat in during filming one series (cue minor freak out)

So after a nice lunch to fill our detective stomachs curtsy of Mrs Hudson, where next? Obviously to St Bartholomew’s Hospital to check to see if Molly Hooper had done a post mortem of course! We decided to tube down to St Barts’ as it was a far old walk and was bloody freezing cold!! When we arrived we first of all got stuck in a little garden/park area which we thought had another gate on the other side… Ohhh nope! Once we got out we naturally did the “SHERLOOOOOOOCKKK!!!” moment from The Reichenbach Fall before moving closer to look at the hospital itself. The hospital itself is more of a teaching hospital, for more information visit http://bartshealth.nhs.uk/our-hospitals/st-bartholomew’s-hospital/. It’s pathology department, where our own little Mousey Molly works in the morgue, is actually a museum of pathology. Although we didn’t fancy a visit inside, the windows of the hospital did assume us greatly.

SHERLOOOOOOOOOCKKKK!!!! 

It’s clear that a lot of Sherlock enthusiasts visit to leave their mark. This wasn’t the only objects with evidences of fellow Sherlockians. The telephone box next to the hospital was covered in various forms of affection. One reading ‘I am gay for John Watson’. Someone also cunningly left a Sherlock Holmes business card in the window of the phone box.

We wandered along the The Old Bailey once we had finished at St Bart’s, which luckily was just up the road. The Old Bailey is one of the most famous courthouses in the UK. It is also where notorious consulting criminal James Moriarty was put on trial, after his triple break in to Pentonville Prison, The Bank of England and The Tower of London.

After our trip to court we walked down to St Paul’s Cathedral. I love this Cathedral. The architecture of the building is truly beautiful and you can really imagine what the vivid colours must of looked like when it was first built. It was even more beautiful at this time of day, when the sunlight was hitting the building at the perfect angle.

What happened next did make us laugh quite a bit. So when we first got on the train to go to London on that chilly Saturday Morning, we were aware that there would be a Woman’s March in London that day, hence the multiple protesters. What we didn’t expect or prepare for, was for us to walk straight into the middle of a protest… Yes that’s right, we got off the tube at Charring Cross… and walked into the middle of an Anti-Trump protest. Now for some truth… IT. WAS. FUCKING. AWESOME! To see so many people come together to voice their opinions was fantastic and some of the sign’s we saw were just brilliant! My personal favourite from the day, which I saw on social media on the way home, read ‘FUCK THE FUCKING FUCKERS’. Brilliant!

I would like to say that although I do not wish to voice my opinion on the subject they were protesting, I would like to say that this was an amazing experience to witness as having never seen a protest of this magnitude in person before in my life!

So once we managed to escape the massive hoard of angry men, women and even children, we strolled down the mall and towards Carlton House Terrace, or more commonly known as The Diogenes Club, Mycroft’s little hide away.

Yet another beautiful example of London architecture.

The next hour or so took us further down The Mall to Buckingham Palace and even to Eaton Square. Since I have so many photos of the Palace, I didn’t bother to take another. When it came to Eaton Square, we walked along to find number 44. If you do not know, this is Irene Alder’s abode. We were going to walk to the house and take a photo… until we saw a guy washing his car outside the house, so Heather took a shot of the road to make it look less suspicious(?).

Earlier that day, I had said to Heather that I would take her to see a very special theatre, which luckily enough was on the route we desired anyway. We walked down Victoria Street and passed The Palace Theatre, where later this year the broadway musical Hamilton will be housed!

Now comes a funny part. We wanted to visit New Scotland Yard and take a photo of the famous spinning sign. So naturally before we went up, I googled the location to NSY… except… it wasn’t the right address. Yes it was indeed Old Scotland Yard. THEY HAD MOVED! So by this point we where extremely confused looking for a spinning box which had been gone for what seemed like a few months now!. Disappointed, we continued down the road towards Westminster Palace, Westminster Abbey and Westminster Bridge… so basically Westminster. It is at this point that Heather comment saying that Big Ben wasn’t so Big and insisted on the name ‘Not so Big Ben’.

Not So Big Ben

Our Journey then lead us to our finally destination, Southbank and the London eye. Where the sunset had provided us the perfect opportunity for some amazing photos!

Heather being all artisticky

London Eye doing a pretty thing with its lights

That concluded our tour. Well the couple of pints of beer and the meal in The Beer House in Waterloo Station before our journey back, miming Hamilton songs in the Quiet Zone of the train did.

If you are wanting to go on the same journey around London we did, here are the locations we visited in order: 1- Baker Street (Tube Station and 221b) 2- The Landmark Hotel 3- North Gower Street & Speedy’s Café 4- St Bartholomew’s Hospital 5- The Old Bailey 6- Trafalger Square 7- Carlton House Terrace 8- Buckingham Palace 9- Eaton Square 10- The Palace Theatre 11- (Old) Scotland Yard 12- Westminster Abbey 13- Westminster Palace & Big Ben 14- Westminster Bridge 15- London Eye

2- TICKETS! Okay so before I go onto the next exciting thing that happened to me within the last two months, lets take a short break for me to tell you that I am going Sherlocked Convention 2017 at The Birmingham Metropole Hilton Hotel in October. I am going for the whole weekend so expect a verrrrryyyyy long post with lots of pictures as I am planning to take my camera with me this time! Next thing is that I am seeing Hamilton next year a week before my 21st Birthday!!! :D

3- Busted Night Driver Tour 2017 So for those of you who are Busted or McBusted fans out there prepared to be very jealous. On Monday 13th Feb, I saw Busted on their Night Driver Tour down at Portsmouth Guildhall.

Now I went their with little preparation for what song they would play as this tour was to promote their new album by the same name. But I did some research and had spent the 2 days before listening to the new album religiously! They did though play a few of the classics including Year 3000, Crashed the Wedding, Air hostess and Sleeping with the Lights on.

I have to say as much as I enjoyed their new album it was very different for them. A lot more slower content for starters but still amazing.

So I think that’ll conclude it for this post. It’s probably my longest post to date! Once again I apologise for leaving it so long to post. Hopefully with all these exciting events coming up, I will be able to tell you some more exciting stories!

Until next time!

SO. MUCH. NEEEWWWWSSSS!!!! Hello Everyone! Right first of all, I am so sorry that I haven't been posting lately. Uni and work and life and yeah you get the picture.

[hellogreenergrass]

Signy Island - Week Seven

22nd Jan – Sunday

Lie ins are lush. I feel renewed. This last week Ive been firing on ½ my cylinders I think. Not sure why, but after a month of full speed, I think I needed to take my foot off the peddle. I’ve been effectively part time this week, with days out to help Stacey not counting as work. But today I will end an easy week with a flourish. I will have A WHOLE DAY OFF. No lab, no thinking of work, no field treks. Just cooking, some rowing, writing and photography. Stacey took my early this morning as she had to get up early anyway to sort out some krill samples (she does this so the rest of us dont have to endure the stench that seeps out from her lab!). I owe her bigly. Oh yes, and Donald Trump was sworn in on Friday. I feel like we are entering a dystopian novel. He was greeted by ½ million people marching in protest through Washington DC. It will be an interesting presidency. A few weeks ago, we all made wishes as we threw wood into a fire and collectively decided that we wished a rapid and ultimately dooming impeachment upon him…

I’ve been drawing most days, but on the whiteboard in the living room as well as my sketch book.  It started as a small pic of something for whoever was on earlies that day. Then Stacey asked for a woodland as she missed trees, and I drew a landscape of a birch stand next to a river that wound down from some hills in the distance. On the other side of the river stands an old oak tree with branches that reach out over a waterfall. Since then, each day I add something else at the request of whoever is on earlies. We now have bluebells and harebells, sheep, a wolf, a peacock, a monkey, highland cows, a llama, a rabbit, and a bear. Iain & Stacey drew me a small hedgehog and some butterflies last night. Looking at it one night, Matt said he’d like me to do something for the new base they are building in the next few years. He will give some thought to what. Nice to think my work would be here even if I am not!

Meowntains  - new word combining two of my loves, cats and mountains. If there is a heaven …

24th Jan

This month is flying by! Cant believe its almost February. And Im almost 34. Jeez. Have been a bit slack at writing in this lately. I put my diary in a drawer in my room and whenever I have the presence of mind to remember it, I either couldn’t be bothered or get distracted en route. So now Im making an effort over brekkie.

The last few days have largely been lab/office based. I spent Monday trying to update my field plan for the coming month and reworking some experiments. The grid plan has had a reboot, less elegant now, but also less work. I hope.  I’ve been reading the work of a chap called Smith (we don’t do first names in scientific literature!) who has been working on Marion Island in the sub-Antarctic Indian Ocean area. His work spans 30 years from a word mapped food web to today, actual raw data on the energy and nutrient flow on the island. I’d love to do something like that here on Signy. He compiled data on all the input from major wildlife contributors and how the plants use it or lose it. Where it runs off the Island or gets blown back in, and the likely fate of it in the oceans. Science like that makes me heart all a flutter!

Aqlima and I went out to look for adult midge on Monday, to no avail. Although she really enjoys looking for them as she works with essentially invisible bacteria, so bugs are massive and remarkably charismatic for her! I think the adults are finished now. Where they go to die I couldn’t tell you as I’ve stopped seeing them in my soil samples too. Add that to the bank of mysteries and unanswerable questions I am accruing this season. I’ve also started going out to collect a species of mite for Scott (my boss back in Brum). He wants to do some population genetics on them. But whilst Ive started collections, Im not sure we can amend my permit again to take them off the island. Can but ask though.

Iain and I spent a few hours out yesterday getting in the last of the soil cores. Sun shone, the wind blew and the innuendo flowed! Down at the site in the unfortunately named Gash Cove, we went down onto the rocks and stood in the sun watching the huge swell roll up a slope of glistening rock the colour of titanium and almost iridescent.  It was a slab of mica-schist, mica being the mineral that gives the glitter to eye shadow. It had been buffered smooth by the waves who slid up the slope many meters and then recoiled back to the ocean excessively exposing an area of rocks and shore rarely seen, like the draw back of a tidal wave, or the curled snarl of lip. It was hypnotic. No furries around here, which is odd. In fact numbers have dropped off again, which Im told is unusual.

Im off to Gourlay today. Day out on my todd. The sun is shining, but its still blowing a hooley. I’ll collect that mite (Alaskozetes antarcticus) and spot sample the route for my midge along the way. Have lunch at the huts out there and see the penguins, then pop down to Cemetery Flats on my way home for more samples. Just me myself and I. Should be a nice day out J

26th Jan

I twisted my ankle!! Not even a little bit, but a proper sprain with swellings and everything! I’d been to Gourlay, hiked back and collected all the samples. Then as I stood at the top of the Stonechute, the final rock and scree descent to base, I recalled Stacey’s recent tale of her twisting her ankle just meters from base whilst carrying a heavy load. It was just a 2cm drop off a rock, but put her off her feet for weeks. I pondered this as I heaved my loaded rucksack on, weighed down by kilos of soil samples, decided not to withdraw my second walking pole and dove down the chute. Despite being just a few hundred meters from home and the first and last part of everyone’s day out, it is one of the riskiest bits. Not least because as well as being steep and loose, it is often full of fur seals. And it was furries that I was checking for as I misplaced my footing and went over on the side of my foot.

I knew immediately that it was not good as I sat trying to catch my breath that had just been dragged from me by the rushing and unweilding pain. Not again I thought. Just last July, I’d gone over on my left leg and torn any remaining shreds of ligament and cartilagein my knee whilst up in the mountains of Norway and out on my own. At least this time I had VHF radio and base in sight. I realised I was going to need help. No way was I carrying that bag across the boulders of the high-tide route. I called in and Alex and Stacey came out to help me back down. I slowly and carefully negotiated my way back, and an hour of ice and elevation followed by a shower seem to have eased it a bit. As have the painkillers. And the 2 glasses of gin I just had. So now I feel just fine!

27th Jan

Woke to stiffness and a substantial amount of pain this morning, but thankfully this eased as the day went on. Although the swelling has peaked and there is some bruising coming through now. I’ll be a few shades of purple soon. At least I actually did something, hate to think Im being melodramatic! I have to try and go out to do some field work tomorrow though, not sure how likely that is, I can’t walk properly. I’ve prepped the ion-exchange membranes already and they have a limited amount of time to be used you see. I did the last of the work whilst watching Seven Years in Tibet tonight in anticipation of being able to at least stagger along in the field with some back-up tomorrow. Great movie, and by God that man. I swear Brad Pitt must have hovered up all the good-looking genes in his family for the best part of a century. The mind boggles. Speaking of good looking men, I spoke to K today. He’s been offered a new job! Interview was at 11am, with two others to follow him and by 2pm they’d made up their mind and called to offer him the position.  I’m not surprised, he has that effect on people ;-)

Wind is still blowing hard and finding its way into the cracks and gaps in the seams of the cabin. Makes the whole place scream and whistle all the time. Some flights from Punto Arenas in Chile to Rothera on the Peninsular have been delayed. I wonder if they have the same weather system. Few thousand km away though. Its been quite unstable the last few weeks, but we are about to enter the warmest month of the year soon, so at least it may stop snowing even the wind keeps up its run of 20+ knots!

[brajeshupadhyay]

What Wolfgang Puck thinks the restaurant industry needs most

Wolfgang Puck is one of the most famous chefs in the world. Arguably the first celebrity chef, he built a culinary empire with a catering company and dozens of restaurants. In Los Angeles, the Austrian chef is known for helping to start a dining renaissance in the 1980s with restaurants Spago and Chinois. Now, the COVID-19 pandemic and the ensuing shutdown have pushed him into politics, with a seat on President Trump’s economic council alongside chefs Thomas Keller, Daniel Boulud and Jean-Georges Vongerichten.

We spoke with Puck, who is quarantining in Los Angeles, about the crisis facing the restaurant industry and his thoughts on a solution. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

What’s happening with your restaurants?

Most of the restaurants are closed. We are supposed to open in Singapore soon. In Istanbul soon too. Here in L.A., we’re doing takeout at Spago, a little takeout at Bel-Air Hotel and a little takeout at Chinois. With all the overhead of a restaurant, I hope that when we reopen at Spago and Chinois, with some customers coming in and takeout, it will be enough to actually stay alive.

How was the transition to takeout?

I really believe that for every problem, we have to figure out how to solve it and make something through innovation. When we started takeout at Chinois, we were working with DoorDash. They charge 25% to 30% for every delivery. That is OK if you have a fast-food restaurant where the average check is $10. We changed to Tock, where people can put in the order and pick up at a certain time. That helped a lot.

I wanted to give people the restaurant experience, so instead of ordering a la carte, you get six dishes for $40. Some people send me pictures of how they plate things at home. At Spago we started selling fried chicken. You have to have enough ingenuity because people at home want change. If you see the same menu, even if it’s a good deal, it gets boring.

Tell me about your work on the president’s economic council.

We’ve gone through many bad spots in our industry and we get through it. Hopefully I think Washington thinks the same. If not, we have to get politically organized. We employ more than 50 million people. It can be a huge political force.

We are supposed to go to Washington — I don’t know if I’m going — on Monday. We’ll see if I get an agenda and everything. I just don’t want to hang around to kiss somebody’s butt, it doesn’t matter who it is. I think if in Washington they can hear us and know what a big problem the restaurant business is in, and if we can be the spokespeople for so many people out there who have no voices.

The last time we talked with the president I didn’t know how many people were there. They had everybody from Jeff Bezos to the head of Walmart. Sure, against them we are just little fish. Totally unimportant. When we talked the first time with the president and talked to him about insurance, talked to him about the stimulus program, he was very interested in it and very much for it. I told him to send me an agenda [for Monday] and who is going. If there are 40 people meeting there at a long table with masks on, I don’t know if I’m going to go.

What would you say to people who criticize the president for choosing four chefs who are in charge of large brands to be on his council versus chefs who better represent small businesses?

We are using our voices because we can be heard. Chefs became really well respected, not just as good cooks but as business people. So I think for a small guy who has a little restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard or down in Long Beach, how is he going to call his congressman? The congressman has never heard their names. It’s very difficult to get something done. So we can speak for everybody and become more politically involved and really push harder for things that should be done for our industry.

For me, my life won’t change that much. If tomorrow everything falls apart, I can sell my house and then I’m still OK. But there are so many people who live from paycheck to paycheck. We are there for these people.

The people who criticize, I want to know what they are doing. I just got off the phone with Congressman Fitzpatrick. I talked with Thomas Keller this morning. I just did an interview on Fox. Why? Because they all watch the news in Washington. So I think if I can hit it home that we need an insurance payout and a stimulus, maybe they will act.

What’s the solution? What will actually help restaurants?

I know a lot of small restaurant owners who own little places with 10 to 15 employees and that’s really their livelihood. It’s not like they are going to make a lot of money. If they weren’t super successful before the virus, now it’s going to be really difficult to get out of it.

I really believe that we need the help of our federal government. The first thing would have to be the insurance companies. I paid business interruption insurance for the last 38 years. They make an excuse and say the virus is not really included in your insurance. Well, the virus really didn’t shut us down. The government shut us down. They should pay up. And the government should bail out the insurance companies the same way they do with the airline industry. That way the money will go immediately to the people who need it, to smaller restaurants. They can go to their insurance guys and claim business interruption and lost money during this time.

If we get a stimulus program, I think they will be able to survive. If you are a lawyer and you go to Spago for lunch, you can deduct that from your taxes. If everything is deductible, maybe people will be more inclined to go to restaurants and spend some money, which will employ a lot of people. We want people with money to spend their money in restaurants, so that way we can get back to a normal life.

What about the PPP loan program?

Well, that helps the employees for a little while, but what about after that?

Did any of your restaurants apply for the PPP loan?

At Chinois we got some money. All of our restaurants are small, individual entities. It’s not like Ruth Chris steakhouse or Shake Shack. Chinois is its own small restaurant. We got the PPP loan because we have to pay the employees. If not, I would have to furlough all the employees. We got lucky at the Four Seasons in Maui. We own the restaurant there. It’s on the PPP program so all the employees are getting paid there. Same thing with Disney World. Thank God we have that [PPP] there. The employees are getting paid while all the Disney people are on furlough.

We don’t own the restaurants in the airports. But we have staff there. We got a PPP loan there but I looked at our bank account and I said you know what, we have enough money in the bank. I sent back $500,000 and said give it to someone who needs it. To me, every restaurant is different obviously, but we have to do the right thing. I don’t want to take advantage of the program if I don’t need it. I want to sleep at night.

What’s happening with your furloughed employees?

Altogether we have over 5,000 employees if you count worldwide. Some of them are furloughed, some of them are on the PPP program. We pay the health insurance and hopefully by the end of June or something we can open most of the places.

What does your plan for reopening look like?

We looked at some of our restaurants to see where we have enough space. At Chinois, if we put 30 people in there, with 50% occupancy that will be it. At Spago we are bigger, so maybe with 50% occupancy we could still seat 100 people. We changed the floor, we are painting and upholstering new booths. I’m going to bring in plants and stuff like that, trees, to make it a winter garden. I don’t want people to walk into a restaurant and see an empty space. I’m even thinking of putting a piano player at Spago so that people can hang out later at night and maybe have a cocktail or another drink. I want to create an ambiance of positivity. I don’t want people to come to the restaurant and talk about the virus all night long.

How has it been in Vegas, where you recently reopened your restaurant in Summerlin at reduced capacity?

People seem to be excited to go out. Families came with their kids. But hopefully we can move forward and keep our employees and our guests safe. If we can’t do that, we will relapse and go the other way. I’m really worried about that. That we can get enough testing. We have to test employees every day and take their temperature. Maybe we have to hire a doctor and every week he does random testing and we still take temperatures every day. Maybe we need a doorman outside to open the doors. Maybe we have to take customers’ temperatures. Obviously we have to have social distancing. Our employees are going to be wearing masks.

What do you want people to know, and what should they be doing?

Support your neighborhood restaurants. Go to the small bars after they reopen. The big chains, the McDonald’s and so forth, will always survive. The small neighborhood restaurants are such a big part of the fabric of a city or a village and you don’t want them to disappear. We don’t want to have all of a sudden only big multinational restaurant companies. Go support local businesses and go often.

At Spago, someone picked up food for like $200 and left a $1,000 tip. One lady sent us $5,000 to Chinois and $5,000 to Spago for the employees.

What would you say to someone just starting out in the restaurant business or someone who just got out of culinary school?

The thing is, you have already experienced the worst thing ever. It’s like being born during the war. This is as bad as it will be. This is as hard as it can be to get a job with so much unemployment out there. Stay positive. It will get better.

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