#we have some of their people taking up labor hours at our store

[lavender-femme]

One thing about me I’m going to complain about not wanting to go to work the night before an opening shift but I’m gonna complain more when I get scheduled for mids

[dancingtotuyo]

If my Hands Could Fix It (Joel Miller)

Part 4 of Build You the World Joel X Reader Rating: PG-13 (Language and some sexual references) Warnings: fluffy, angst, talk of pregnancy related things, trying to conceive, struggling to conceive. Tags: pre outbreak/no outbreak, fluff, craftsman!Joel, we're in the 90s folks... but wait... also the year 2000! Words: 4260

Series Master List | Author Master list

You and Joel got married in April in the backyard. Joel built a pergola that you covered in wildflowers and baby’s breath. It was a small ceremony, only about 35 people, but you preferred it that way.

You went to Mexico for your honeymoon. A week on a beach full of sand, sun, and sex. A lot of sex with no children to interrupt you or for you to accidentally wake up. Panic hit on day 3  when you realized you hadn’t taken your birth control pills and only ensued when you realized the pills were still sitting on the bathroom counter at home. You rifled through your bags for a fourth time just to be certain. 

“Darlin, what's wrong?”

You looked up. Joel already had his swim trunks on and a towel over his shoulder. His farmer’s tan was fading from just a couple days on the beach. “I think I left something at home.”

“Can’t be that important-”

“My birth control.”

“Oh.” 

You looked at him. He seemed to recall the events of the past few days but said nothing else. 

“Just “oh”? That’s all you have to say?” You stared at him.

He smiled at you, taking your hand. He pressed them to his mouth. Your shoulders dropped. “I can go buy condoms.” His thumbs worked slow circles into your palms. “Or… we could just see what happens.” 

“What about our plan?” The five-year one. Baby-making wasn’t a part of that for another year. 

He laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re really bad at planning shit, baby.”

You couldn’t help it as your lips ticked upward. It was true. You and Joel didn’t plan things. They just happened. The five-year plan the two of you started was your biggest attempt thus far and here you were, less than 2 months later talking about deviating, or maybe you’d already ruined it. 

You let the thoughts of another kid wash over your mind. Pregnancy hadn’t been this wonderful, carefree experience for you, but it hadn’t been all that bad either. You decided not to dwell on the 36 hour labor experience. Sweet baby snuggles, late night feedings, smiles, first steps, temper tantrums, and I love yous all drifted through your mind. You weren’t sure if you were ready for it all right now, but you could be if you had to. Lord knows you weren’t ready the first time. 

Releasing a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay, let’s just see what happens.”

Joel grinned. He kissed you, hands wandering over the skin your bathing suit didn’t cover. “Now let’s get you onto the beach.”

~

You didn’t get pregnant on your honeymoon. The relief you thought you’d feel upon seeing the negative test was replaced with disappointment. You tossed the test into the trash can.

Walking out of the bathroom, your eyes landed on Joel, reading in bed. You cocked your head to the side. He wasn’t a reader like you, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to read about woodworking techniques or the history of construction. Boring topics to you, but he could and had gone on for hours about both. You enjoyed watching the way his eyes lit up when he started on the topic, but the book he currently held was one of yours. 

“Watcha got there?” You smiled but you felt its lack. It pulled at your face awkwardly. 

Joel’s eyes darted up over the book, an eyebrow raised. “This is pure filth, darling.” 

You laughed, straddling his abdomen. “Where do you think I learned all my tricks?” You took the book from him, checking the cover. “This is nothing, baby.”

“And here I took you for an academic, readin all the time. Is our whole relationship a lie?” He grinned, hands settling on your bare thighs. 

“Yes, I’ve just been scamming you so I have a place to store my many filthy books.” You winked. 

He chuckled, pulling your palm to his lips. He always did that to soothe you. Were you that readable?  

“Whatcha thinking about?” 

Guess the answer was yes. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” You shook your head. 

His brow furrowed. “Baby…”

You shrugged, splaying your palms on his chest. His fingers trailed over your knee and up your thigh. You showed tremendous interest in the logo on his shirt, biting your lip. You felt the pressure behind your eyes. “It’s just…” You sighed. “The pregnancy test was negative and it’s stupid.” Moisture pressed to surface level. You wiped it away. “I mean, I thought I would be relieved, and now I’m crying.” You wiped more tears away with a small laugh. 

Joel continued to rub your thighs. His brown eyes met yours. “I think I’m a little disappointed too.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest. The skin around Joel’s eyes crinkled, his dimple popping out. You leaned down, touching your forehead to his. “So that means…” 

“Fuck the five-year plan.” Joel grinned. 

You repeated it back and pressed your lips to his. 

You threw out your birth control the next morning. 

~

You’d heard about women tracking their cycles and taking ovulation tests and postponing sex until ovulation, but all of that sounded a bit overwhelming. You’d conceived Asher while taking birth control religiously. You thought it would just happen. 

But three months and 4 negative pregnancy tests later, you found yourself staring at the ovulation kits. Did you go with the cheapest option? How many did you buy? Before going on birth control, you’d been very aware of when you were ovulating and since coming off it, you were fairly certain of when you were as your sex drive kicked up roughly every four weeks. 

“Go with the brand in the blue box.” 

You turned around. Marcia Crawly, a mom from Sarah’s soccer team, smiled at you. You were pretty sure she was on the PTO as well.  

“Oh, thanks,” You forced a smile.

You grabbed the recommended box, cheeks heating up. This shouldn’t be embarrassing. You were a grown married woman with children. 

“No problem. You and Joel are trying?” 

Oh lord, not grocery store small talk in the family planning aisle. “Uh… yeah.” You tossed the box into your cart. Marcia didn’t seem like the kind to spread the word, but you didn’t know her that well. 

“If you want any tips, just reach out. I know all the things to do.” She smiled. 

You thought of Marcia's 4 children all born within 24-28 months of one another. She’d mentioned that fact several times in passing as if it was some kind of accomplishment. It never occurred to you until now that perhaps she’d meticulously planned it that way. 

“Um… yeah, sure. I will.” You wouldn’t. 

“See you at the soccer game this weekend.” She waved. “And good luck.” Marcia winked at you before continuing on her own.

Joel was working in the garage when you got home. Sarah had asked for a bookshelf “all for herself” for her birthday. In the summer boom of work, Joel hadn’t been able to start on it until tonight. Sarah’s birthday was a week ago. You knew he felt bad, but there were other gifts to unwrap, and Sarah got to stay up late that night helping Joel design it. You were pretty sure it was twice the undertaking Joel originally planned. 

With the groceries put away, you went to investigate the lamplight from Sarah’s room. You noticed it when you got home. Her door was cracked. You tapped on it before entering. Sarah peeked up over the cover of her book. You smiled. “It’s past your bedtime, Sarah Joy.”

“Dad said I could read.”

You glanced down at your watch, soft laughter contained. “It’s 10:30.” You laid down next to her pulling her into your side. “Watcha reading?” 

Sarah cuddled into you. “Box car children- Haunted Cabin Mystery.” 

“Is it any good?”

Sarah nodded. “Not as good as the original series.”

“Well, nothing can beat the original series.

You took an extra minute to hold her. She was getting so big. You didn’t know how long she would continue to let you hold her like this. 

Sarah nodded, pressing her back into you as she continued to read. “15 more minutes. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, kiddo. I love you.” You kissed her cheek and tickled her sides.

Sarah’s laughing squeal filled the room. “Mama!” 

You laughed. “Sarah!”

“Okay, okay!” She struggled to catch her breath and you relented. Sarah kissed your cheek. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

You crawled out of the bed laughter still in your movements. “15 minutes.” You reminded

“I know.”

You took a mental picture of Sarah, freshly 10 years old snuggled in bed with a book, and filed it away. 

You peeked into Asher’s room. He slept curled up over a pillow, just like Joel did when he fell asleep before you made it to bed. You tiptoed in, pushing back his sweat-damp curls. He ran hot when he slept. Something he also got from his daddy. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you pulled the covers down to keep him cool. 

Opening the fridge, you grabbed a drink before joining Joel in the garage. He shot a smile your way as he marked measurements onto the boards, but said nothing. You returned his smile. You forwent the stool, opting to sit directly on the workbench. The condensation from the bottle was slick in your hands from the late July heat. 

You swung your feet back and forth noticing the absence of the radio tonight. The cicadas and crickets chirped in harmony. The quick buzz of the table saw joined them as Joel made a single precise cut. He looked hot with the pencil behind his ear.

“You’re gonna get sawdust all over your shorts.”

 He walked over leaning against the workbench. He smelled like pine and dirt. Your favorite. You couldn’t help it as you leaned toward him. 

“Guess you’ll have to clean me off then.” You winked sipping on your drink.

Joel eyed the bottle in your hand. You’d pretty much stopped drinking since the two of you decided to have another baby. 

“Somethin happen at the grocery store?” Joel reached behind you, grabbing his drink. He rested his other hand on your thigh. 

“I ran into Marcia Crawly as I was getting ovulation tests. She offered to give me all the tips and tricks if I needed them.” 

Joel paused, bottle mid-air. His face read somewhere between amusement and concern as he swallowed his beer. “The whole PTO gonna know now?”

“Doesn’t seem the type, but I guess we’ll find out.” You shrugged. 

“So what’s buggin you?” His hand crawling up your thigh. 

You rested your forehead against his running a hand through his curls. He leaned into your touch further. “I’m neglecting my wifely duties. Your hair is getting long.”

His eyebrows raised expectantly. You couldn’t deflect with him. 

“I just don’t like other people up in our business,” you said. He tilted his head, kissing the palm on his cheek. “Especially people we’re not really friends with.”

“Me either.” Joel moved between your legs. Easing his hands on either side of your thighs. 

You rested your chin on top of his head as the two of you enjoyed the summer night noises. It wasn’t silent by any means, but it felt peaceful. 

“Sarah is still up reading. I told her 15 minutes.”

Joel smiled. “Think she’ll remember?” 

“Fuck no,” You said. Joel laughed. “But if Sarah staying up late to read is our biggest issue, I’m not worried.”

“Until she starts stealing filthy books from your shelf.” 

You laughed, head tossing back. Joel kissed your neck. “Get back to work. I came out here to watch my hot carpenter husband do carpenter things.”

Joel smiled, giving you a solid kiss before moving back to his project. You picked up his journal. You’d given him a new one, much like the original, for his birthday after he filled all the pages in the first one. 

“This is quite the bookshelf.”

“She wants fairies on it. Not sure how I’m going to do that yet, but I’ll figure it out.” 

“They don’t cover that in your books?”

“They cover it in yours?” Joel grinned. 

You flipped him off. 

~

You laid out across your bed still in your work clothes. Your abdomen cramped as you waited for the ibuprofen to kick in. Tears streamed into your ears, and for once it wasn’t your period that brought on the tears. 

Work was shit. The company you worked for switched hands last year. Ever since, you hadn’t enjoyed work. The co-workers you were close to slowly quit one by one and your boss was an overbearing, asshole. 

You heard the click of the bedroom door. The bed dipped beside you. His warm, calloused hand covered yours. His lips touched your forehead. You hummed softly. 

“Rough day?”

“Carl’s an ass.”

His finger traced over your face and then he noticed the tears running between your eyes and ears. “Shit, baby.”

“Sorry.” You wiped at your tears, finally opening your eyes.

“Don’t apologize…”

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep working there.” 

“Then don’t.” 

“What?”

“You’re already keepin the books. Tommy and I were talking about hiring a couple more people. Business is good. We’re filling up through the winter. That’s never happened before.”

It was all a part of the five-year plan. Miller Construction, LLC was growing. What used to be just Joel and Tommy had grown to a crew of 5. You’d been doing the books for a couple of years now. The longer-term plan was for you to quit your job and run the admin side of things full-time. You would be able to stay home with the kids so daycare wouldn’t be needed. There were plans for office space, two crews, all a part of the 5-year plan. You quitting your job was still 2 ½ years away. 

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re thinking about that damn timeline.”

“So? We made that plan for a reason.”

“And we said fuck it, did we not?”

“Joel this isn’t deciding to have a baby a year earlier.” 

“Darlin, you’re miserable.”

“Even if it all worked out, what about health insurance? We’re trying to have a baby. I don’t think we want to get the uninsured medical bill for childbirth.” Health insurance was the main reason you stayed at this job. Your 30 hours a week, enough to qualify for benefits, turned into 40 more often than not. 

“You don’t have to work to get insurance.”

“Joel.”

“Miller Construction can offer you great benefits.” He kissed your neck.

“Oh? Like what?” You smiled. He was distracting you and you let him.

“Flexible schedule, bring your kids to work.” His lips trailed lower. “Private meetings with the boss.” His breath was hot in your ear. 

You hummed soaking in the feeling of the idea until reality crashed back down. “I can’t quit my job so we can have a midday rendezvous.”  

“I want you to quit so you’ll be okay.” He took your hands in his, kissing them. “We need you to be okay, baby.”

You stared up at him, relishing the warmth of his hands. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll call Carl up myself right now. Tell him you’re done. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

You thought about it, making the decision quicker than you wanted to admit. “Fuck the five-year plan I guess.” You laughed, feeling like a weight was lifted off your chest. 

Joel chuckled, pressing his lips to yours.

~

On the first day of November, you woke up feeling nauseous. Your heart lept at the thought that this was it. You managed to wait until the kids were asleep that night, your anticipation growing with the mild heartburn you felt throughout the day. 

No second line. In fact, the test strip was so fucking white you couldn’t imagine a faint line. You threw it in the trash can, fighting the urge to scream. 

You turned on the shower and let the hot water wash it away. 

Joel had just turned out his lamp as you crawled into bed without a word. The sheets felt cool against your skin. He kissed your head before turning on his back.

You faced Joel, laying on your side. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“What’s wrong?” You laid a hand on his chest. The only time Joel slept on his back was when he fell asleep on the couch, you insisted on cuddling a certain way, or he was stressed. 

He covered your hand with his. “Nothing babe, just work stuff.” 

“Something that’s gonna affect the books?”

He looked at you with the one eye that faced you. “What happened to no work talk in the bedroom?”

“Well, you’re clearly stressed in our bedroom.” 

Joel rolled over kissing you softly. “Better now.”

“You cheeseball.”

Joel chuckled. He kissed your forehead. “Now it’s your turn.”

You furrowed your brow.

“I can hear your thoughts, Darlin.” 

“You cannot.”

He touched his head to yours, the moonlight reflecting in his big brown eyes. “They’re racing faster than NASCAR.”

You sighed. “I thought I was pregnant. I’m not. Must’ve eaten too much damn Halloween candy last night.”

Joel managed a soft smile. His hand threaded through your hair. “I’d tell you not to overthink it, but we both know that’s not possible.” 

“Do you think there’s something wrong?” You bit your lip. 

“It hasn’t been that long, baby.” You leaned into his touch. 

“I thought it would just happen, you know.” You wanted to swear as the tears started. 

Joel pulled you into his arms. “I think I did too. I mean… I’m kinda 2 for 2 in that department.”

You managed a laugh and he kissed your head. 

“I love you,” He said. 

“I love you too.”

~

The holidays came and went in a blur. Thanksgiving with Tommy and your mom. Your mother had warmed up to Joel over the years. So much so, she’d let him handle the turkey. He’d been so excited. Christmas morning was just the four of you. A new bike for Sarah and a train set for Asher. New Year's Eve at some big fancy house hosted by Joel’s biggest client just the two of you. In the rush of the holidays, the two of you realized it was your first date night in two months. Joel had fucked you in one of the many bathrooms, the idea of baby making the farthest thing from either of your minds for the first time in a long time. 

It was the third week of January before you realized your period was late. You reeled your mind for the last time you’d had it. Did you miss December too? Your heart picked up. You had. 

You glanced in the living room. Sarah was reading and Asher playing with his trains on the floor. You took the steps two at a time quickly locking the door. This had to be it. There was no way it wasn’t.  

You watched the test process, confused when the second line never appeared. The test must have been bad. You grabbed two more from your drawer. The second came up negative as did the third. You just stared at them lined up on the bathroom counter. The acceptance hit you like a semi-truck, the wind knocked from your lungs.

You swiped the tests into the trash can. Angry hot tears streamed from your eyes. Your bedroom door slammed behind you and you fell into the comforter as you let the sobs wrack your body. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been in bed when the door creaked open. You glanced up, eyes heavy expecting to see Sarah or Asher. Joel’s frame filled the door making you realize how long you’d actually been in bed. “Sarah said she heard the door slam a couple hours ago.”

“Shit.” You groaned. There was an ache at the base of your skull. You buried your head into the comforter. 

Joel sat on the bed, his hand on your back. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Darlin…”

You sighed, rubbing your head as you rolled to your back. You knew if you opened your eyes, the headache would get worse. “What else, Joel? I thought for sure I was pregnant. New flash, I’m not.”

Silence ensued. You were too preoccupied trying to rub your headache away. The bed beside you lifted. Joel huffed shuffling out of the room. You sat up. Your brain felt like it was going to implode. Your sinuses were stuffy from crying. You couldn’t think straight. 

Joel barged back in, garbage bag in hand. He yanked open the top dresser drawer where you kept the pregnancy and ovulation tests. “What are you doing?”

“Throwing this shit out. We’re done.”

“Done? What are you talking about?” You were worried you might be getting a migraine as you rubbed your temples. 

“This whole cycle tracking and taking tests every month. We need a break.” He shoved the tests into the garbage bag. 

“Joel.”

“It’s tearing you apart!” He turned around. Your vision tunneled to his eyes. Tears pooled in them. “It’s tearing me apart.” 

He dropped the garbage bag and climbed into the bed. His hands felt cool against your hot skin. “We need a break… please.” His voice broke. 

“Okay.” You whispered. 

You climbed into his lap. He kissed your head and you nuzzled into his neck. A few of his tears dropped onto your cheek as yours slid down his neck. He held you like that until you fell asleep.  

~

You didn’t tell Joel you bought the pregnancy test. A part of you felt bad not telling him, but if it was negative, he’d see it in your face. He’d know what was going on without a word. 

You’d only taken one other pregnancy test since you and Joel hit pause on trying last year, and that was at your annual physical. You’d expected the negative result and when the doctor told you, you felt okay. 

You two still talked about having another child. Both of you wanted it, but the active trying was paused. You agreed your family felt incomplete. You discussed going to see a doctor just to make sure everything was okay, but that still felt overwhelming. 

For the most part, you’d been able to unweave the constant baby think from your brain. Life felt like it was flying by at breakneck speed. You celebrated Asher’s 5th birthday in March. Sarah’s spring soccer season was well underway. There was talk that they could make it to states this year, and Sarah had been named captain. Asher started t-ball. Between the two kids’ sports, most of your weekends were full. Business was booming for Miller Construction. So much so that you were in the market for an assistant, and You and Joel celebrated your 2nd wedding anniversary earlier this month. 

Your period was almost 2 weeks late. You tried not to overthink it. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the nausea had hit three days in a row now. The first day you could write it off. The kids had caught a stomach bug last week. The second day you tried to let it go, and then this morning you actually threw up, twice, and then recovered. It brought you back to when you were pregnant with Asher. 

You paced the bathroom wringing your hands as you watched the second hand on your watch tick in two slow circles. You refused to look before it was time. Your mind raced. You flipped between sure and doubt. 

Two minutes. You steadied your breath as you prepared to look. No matter what it said, you would be okay… you hoped. 

The test lay on the bathroom counter. Two lines, clear as day, stared back at you. There was no doubting it. Shock settled in your bones. “Joel…” He was downstairs with the kids. “Joel!” Your voice steadily rose. 

About the third time, his heavy footsteps rang through the house as he took the steps two at a time. He burst into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” Panic raged wild in his eyes. His chest heaved

You looked up at him, tears brewing in your eyes, hand over your mouth. 

“Darlin, what is it?” He walked over to you. You pointed to the counter. 

He looked over, brow furrowing. Then he saw it. The test sitting there. He didn’t even have to look at the results to know what it said. His head whipped around. “You’re?”

You nodded still suspended in disbelief. He laughed, picking you up and spinning you around in the already tight space. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, laughter mingling with his.  

~

Emma Grace entered the world on December 13th at 12:03 am with much more urgency than her older brother. Joel narrowly avoided catching her as the doctor arrived no more than 30 seconds before she was born. 

Joel settled next to you, his arm around your shoulders. Emma stared up at the two of you. He brushed his finger against her cheek. She felt so small in your arms, and compared to her older brother, she was, weighing in at 2 pounds lighter. 

“She was born after midnight?” 

Joel nodded and the tears welled in your eyes. “She has my dad’s birthday.”

Joel kissed your head and then hers. You leaned into him. Staring down at your baby girl, you felt it in your souls. Your family was complete.

[vernalseason]

Here's why I'm so goddamn feral about The Bear.

I ran an ice cream store for about five years. No, it wasn’t fine dining, it wasn’t even a restaurant, but it was still food service. We were in a vacation town, and our place was the only ice cream store in the area, and the ice cream was GOOD. Customers used to ask me all the time if I got sick of eating it and I’d say no, and I meant it. It was reasonably fancy as ice cream goes, with some pretty out-there flavors, but mostly it was just GOOD. Super flavorful, dense but not chewy the way that some ice creams get where it feels like it’s stretching unnaturally when you pull your spoon away…

Point is, it was an ice cream shop in a tourist town, and in the summer we got killed during service every single night. Nonstop lines from 7 til 12 or 1 in the morning, no breaks. We got after-dinner crowds, after-show crowds, hordes of camp kids a busload at a time, and it might not have been fine dining but we worked HARD. We had 8, 9, 10 people on peak days all scooping, cleaning, making milkshakes (which is The Worst, in case you were curious), restocking by running down rickety definitely-not-to-code stairs to our tiny walk-in and hauling ice cream up 4 boxes at a time—because goddamn it, time was valuable and running up and down the stairs sucked and no one was going to go down multiple times when you could just grab 4 at a time and grit your teeth and shove them onto the counter upstairs feeling like you’d just benched your own body weight.

At the start of the summer, Memorial Day weekend, we were at our absolute peak. Following a truly herculean hiring effort aided by the promise of unlimited free ice cream, we had a crew of 20-odd overcaffeinated teenagers and twentysomethings who were working a truly awe-inspiring pace to kill the line. My favorite moments were, variously:

Being so busy I had to run two registers simultaneously, waiting for Square to process a transaction on one (chip card readers were murderously slow in the early days) while taking cash on the other;

Absolutely shattering every store record on a Saturday night with a skeleton crew and getting approval to order 12AM pizza on the company card, and taking a long, long hour to eat before we finally had to get around to scrubbing the calcified ice cream off the floors;

Gearing up to call for a restock on spoons, napkins, and other such necessities only to find that my assistant manager was behind me with a milk crate of those very things;

And so on.

There was about a month and a half of beautiful, well-staffed, smooth-running time before things frayed at the edges. Suddenly the factory couldn't get enough ingredients, since the company was chronically broke (turns out wholesale ice cream is a bad idea, folks; retail is where it's at), or the store walk-in broke down and we had to resort to chest freezers for storage for a month, or, most commonly, we started losing staff. I was always after the owner of the company to hire more year-round full-time staff, but there was always something more urgent for him to spend money on, like rent. So inevitably our staff would start leaving for college, and we'd be left with about half to a third of the staff we really needed to run. Which is when things started getting bad.

There are only so many doubles you can work before you start losing your grip on reality. I recall one day in August when I was somehow, improbably, the only person available to fill an entire day of shifts, and worked from 9AM pre-open to 11PM at night. The only thing that I remember is that the tips were phenomenal. But by Labor Day weekend we were down to our last seasonal staff and the entire core crew had worked at least two doubles that week and we limped into the off season with about two remaining brain cells between us.

Anyway. This post was supposed to be about The Bear.

I've never seen a show—or at least, never seen a FICTIONAL show—that so deeply understands what it means to be in food service. I watched the first episode in absolute awe of how they captured the intensity—just GOING until you get a moment to yourself in the bathroom, in the walk-in, in the office. And when you slow down, you think about how tired you are. How burnt out. How much all you really want is just to sit, maybe eat a slice of pizza, and stare into space for an hour. But then you go back out, and you get back to work.

I've also never seen a show that so accurately captures what it looks like and feels like to be a manager. Carmy losing his temper, giving in to that righteous anger in 'Review'—how DARE you not cover your station, how DARE you leave me with this mess that you created—I've been there. I'm not proud of it. I didn't punch a ticket printer, or scream in anyone's face, but I lost my cool, and that sticks with me. You don't get to take it back. You apologize (even if you were right), you patch things up, but no one ever really forgets.

But the show also does justice to one of the great joys of the service industry: getting to see people improve. One of my favorite subplots is Tina going from sabotaging Sydney to respecting her, trusting her, defending her. But mostly, it's my favorite because we see her get BETTER. She goes from just holding down her station to being a pro, from throwing things together to being careful, and thoughtful, and focused. And that moment when Tina says 'thank you, chef', and means it, really MEANS it, that's the kind of thing that gets me all teary. Because it's so much more than just 'thank you', but you'd have spend a hell of a lot longer to get it all out.

I guess if I was going to trace my rabid and, so far undiminished love of the show to a single thing, it would be the fact that it makes me feel seen. I haven't done that much reading on the people who made the show, but enough of them clearly lived this life or got close enough to it that they understand what it does to people, and what it requires of them. I loved working in food service, and sometimes I even miss it. I loved getting to make people's days, to give kids their first-ever ice cream, to feel like people were leaving in a better mood than they came in. And I met my partners through this life, all three of them, which is as exactly as wild and improbable as it sounds. But every time I look back on it fondly, I make myself remember that it was miserable too. The late nights, the early mornings, the days off cut short by delivering emergency stock or jumping in to cover a shift or just ending back up at the shop out of habit. The crushed toes and ragged wrist tendons and hoarse throats, the constant phone calls or checking sales to try and anticipate if we needed more staff. The sensation that after service, the rest of the world was dim in comparison.

I sank so much time and energy into that life, and I think the last thing I love about The Bear, the other thing that makes me tear up a little bit, is that for them it turns out alright in the end. They work through the problems, they make things run smooth, and they get the chance to build the place they dreamed about. That was always what I wanted, what I was working toward—the chance to make things better. And even in fiction, it makes me happy to see that come true.

[nancypullen]

Merry Everything and a Happy Whatever

Well, I cam back from Florida with just a couple of days to prepare for the onslaught of Christmas and promptly got sick. The virus that my sister had, some respiratory thing, definitely not a common cold, took me out at the knees. I slogged through the grocery store with my long list (I wore a mask!) and hauled home enough to feed an army. Everyone arrived on the 22nd and I made a dinner of pork carnitas, tortillas, and all the toppings. Rice and beans rounded out the meal and the whole gang was satisfied. The next night was a rotini and meatball bake, extra cheesy. And so it went. I was Typhoid Mary in the kitchen, coughing up a lung, and you'd think spreading disease. Would you believe that not a single person caught it? I'm just now feeling human again and no one else is even sniffling. I have to admit that the Christmas dinner was not my best. I kept forgetting to set timers. The turkey was dry (and I pride myself on juicy roasted birds!), the sweet potato casserole was not quite set, and I left the rolls in too long. I felt like a failure, but everyone ate and no one died.

Christmas was merry, Santa was sure good to all of us - especially a certain little girl. My boys spoil me absolutely rotten, to the point of making me feel guilty. I always cry and act like a doofus because I still see those sweet little boys of mine, and I want them to save their money for themselves. I should be proud that they're both doing so well and are so kind, but I just feel guilt. I'm not worthy! I'm sure a psychologist could have a field day with my thoughts. Anywayyyy, even though I was sick as a dog, it was wonderful to have everyone together. I felt like apologizing for not being more fun. I hate it that Matt flew all the way home and we didn't even play our usual rounds of Song Quiz or go on an adventure. In summary, Christmas was wonderful because my family is wonderful. The Edgewater parents had to go back to work, so we kept Little Miss for a three extra days since she's out of school. She helped me take all of the decorations off the tree (I knew she was dying to get her hands on those ornaments) and we collected all of the Santas, deer, and holiday knick-knacks from around the house. Between the two of us we got Christmas packed away and everything tidied up. Turns out child labor is beneficial. We took her to see Migration and she giggled all the way through. She dressed herself for the movie and I didn't fight it. Better to be overdressed than underdressed, right?

We handed her over yesterday afternoon and I came home and told Mickey that I was takin' to the bed. I don't think I moved for twelve hours. I didn't do much today either. I need to rest up for our big New Year's Eve festivities.

Yeah, I can't say that with a straight face. We have NO plans. I wouldn't go if we did. I don't even have a dinner planned for us. Usually Matt gets to stay through New Year's Eve and I do a buffet of appetizers. We may be eating tuna sandwiches on paper plates. Sounds like I've given up, doesn't it? Lawdy, I'm just tiiired.

Anywho, I survived and thankfully the family seems to have missed my contagious stage. I'd feel really awful if they'd all taken this nasty virus home. Glad it ended with me, good riddance to it. I'm thinking about what my word for 2024 will be and I'm just not sure. Last year I chose the word flourish. I chose it because I was so unhappy here, couldn't seem to make a friend, etc. I was determined to take control and make this my home. I should have chosen a different word. I tried, good grief how I tried. I'm an Army brat, I'm not shy about meeting people or being in new places. I've taken classes, gone to functions, reached out to others, even gone out a couple of times with some local ladies. Apparently I'm still undesirable. I did apply for and finally get a job at the library, so maybe that will help. If nothing else I'll make a little money while the local population rejects me.

Might as well make the best of it. Maybe my word for the new year will be acceptance. It is what it is. I'd rather my word be winner, as in lottery. Did you see that Powerball jackpot? Whew! I'd be outta' here so fast. With that kind of cash I could still see Little Miss every week. Fancy Grancy could jet in for gymnastics practice and dinner. Crossing all my fingers. I'll save one for Denton though.

Maybe that's the cold meds talking. Or not. I've whined my way through this blog post, so I'll end this little pity party. Just wanted to get you all caught up before we hang a new calendar. I'll think about my word for 2024 and get back to you. Anyone else choosing one? I've seen folks opting for simplify, balance, courage, gratitude...in what direction are you hoping to steer your next 365 days? We've passed the winter solstice and we're gaining sunlight every day, let's walk into the sunshine and choose happiness this year. I've always found happiness in small things - a pretty sunset, bird song, little green shoots in the spring. Tomorrow I'm going to get a whole bunch of tulip bulbs (a gift!!) in the ground. I'm planting hope. There's always hope, right? Alright, I'm off to soak in a bubble bath and read the latest Lisa Jewell book. I was on a library waitlist for months and so far it's been worth it. I downloaded it on my new Christmas KIndle. The Pullen men hate it that I'll use the same technology for a decade (my old Kindle worked fine, just didn't hold a charge like it used to). There you have it. It's over. Ladies, we decorated, shopped, wrapped, cooked, and spread joy like chicken pox. The lull between Christmas and the new year celebrations is a welcome relief. Rest if you can, recharge. You've earned it. Sending out loads of love tonight. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[female-malice]

The United States solar energy boom is finally taking off - in the worst way. In the Mojave desert and other federal lands across the West, utility-scale installations are putting gigawatt-hours of energy on the board and powering millions of homes. But the designs are sloppy, the labor conditions are horrific, and the environmental damage is incalculable. Ancient joshua trees are being clear cut, endangered desert tortoises are being left for dead, the vast biotic carbon stores of Mojave soils are being upturned, and the reflectivity of enormous expanses of desert are being altered, affecting the planetary climate.

But it doesn't have to be this way. There's a type of energy that requires no fuel and no land. It hardly even needs transmission lines, as it can be built at the site of use: rooftop solar. Every hour of the day, rooftops across the United States soak up enough sun to generate petawatts of power. Estimates for their potential to offset US energy demand range from 13 percent to over 100. Yet at present, only around 2 percent of US energy is generated by rooftop.

And then there's land area that's already been developed. Just by building solar on degraded lands, focusing on superfund sites, reservoirs, and farmland, researchers estimate we could generate more than enough to offset today's national energy demand. While there are points of dispute concerning some projections, the conclusion is clear: between the potential of degraded lands, rooftops, wind, and storage - plus existing hydro, nuclear, and other zero carbon energy sources, there's really no need to tear up the rare and fragile ecosystems of our deserts.

​So why are the solar sites that should be our first priority being overlooked and the ones that should be our last resort being bulldozed?

Today, the primary obstacle to intelligent energy design is profit motive. Rooftop solar takes more work for less power. The overhead costs are high. The permits are onerous. The homeowner incentives are weak. Public lands, on the other hand, are the easy route. It's the path of least resistance and highest returns for energy corporations and utilities trying to turn a quarterly profit - even if they're nowhere near the people who need power. The reality is that a timely and just transition to renewable energy requires public investment. To achieve it, the grid must be taken into public hands.

In a confusing media landscape full of misinformation and conspiracies about renewable energy, the voices of experts criticizing renewable energy installations are often grouped in with climate deniers or "NIMBYs" and their concerns dismissed out-of-hand. We do this at our own peril. While we can point to the gains in gigawatts, we ignore the less quantifiable, yet grave damage to the ecosystems that we relied on to survive long before electricity. The legitimate and serious failures of our profit-motivated attempt at clean energy development must be interrogated if we are to build a resilient, efficient, and equitable grid. The window is narrowing to avert all-out climate apocalypse. Charting a course toward a sustainable future requires energy planning in which ecologists stand on equal footing with engineers. Heed their warnings.

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Labor of Love" (Part 1)

SUMMARY: Jake and Lilah look forward to the impending birth of their baby girl. Also, they have an unexpected encounter with the last person they want to see. Continuation of “Broken & Beautiful.”

Part 2

PAIRINGS: Jake and Lilah; Will and Allison

TRIGGER WARNING: Read with caution! This part references Simone's grooming/abuse of Jake when he was a child. Nothing graphic or detailed.

SUNFLOWER DIVIDER: Firefly Graphics

     It’s March now, and I’m in my sixth month. Baby Maya is still doing well, and she still seems to have a fondness for being a night owl. I know some people may think I’m crazy, but I’m convinced that the reason why she’s especially active at night is because she knows that’s when she can have the full attention of her parents. From the moment we wake up in the morning, Jake and I are busy getting ready for the day. And while we’re bartending, we can’t exactly stop every five minutes to talk to her via my baby bump. So it’s at night, when we’re at home, that she seems to take advantage of the quietness. Jake laughs off my suspicions, of course. Whatever the reason, our little girl likes to throw a late-night party for one in my womb. Not that I’m complaining. I love feeling her move around. It means that she’s healthy and safe.

     According to my OB, I’m also healthy. Though I feel like my body is waging a war against me. The sixth month has ushered in a new set of pregnancy symptoms: heartburn, backaches, dizziness, leg cramps and hot flashes.

     Up until recently, I was never one to move around much during sleep hours. It used to be that I could fall asleep and maybe - once in a blue moon - switch positions once or twice. Now, thanks to my aching back and the occasional leg cramp, I just can’t seem to stay comfortable. I don’t know how Jake puts up with my tossing and turning. Thankfully, the leg cramps can be prevented by staying hydrated. I always make sure to keep a “go cup,” filled with water handy. The only thing is: I have to get up to pee more often. During the day, I can take advantage of a stool whenever I need to take pressure off of my aching back or if dizziness hits me. And at night, Jake and I have become experts at arranging the pillows so I can stay comfortable as long as possible.

     As far as the heartburn is concerned, I have to avoid some of my favorite foods. It’s been easy to part with spicy foods. But when my OB suggested avoiding chocolate and citrus, I just about hit the roof. I am a “chocoholic,” and sometimes my resolve begins to crumble whenever I see anything chocolate being paraded in front of me at the restaurant. On top of that, my favorite fruits happen to be oranges and lemons. On the rare occasion when I end up cutting lemons at the restaurant, and I catch a whiff of their scent, I have to remind myself of two things: (1) if I sneak a bite, I’m technically stealing from the restaurant; and (2) I’ll just pay for it later on. Curse you, heartburn!

     I wish I could say that my changing body and weight gain haven’t affected how I feel about my appearance. There are times when I absolutely love the way I look. If I’m wearing a cute maternity dress, and I have my hair just so, I feel confident. But then, there are those days when I want to avoid the mirror as much as possible. When that happens, Jake is quick to assure me that I’m still beautiful and desirable to him, bump and all. That sentiment is sweet, but it’s hard to feel that way sometimes. And let’s just say that my work clothes? They’re even less flattering, now that I have this belly.

     Jake and I managed to get out of bed early this morning, as we’ve chosen today to go shopping for a stroller and a crib. Thankfully, there’s a place nearby that sells baby gear. They also happen to deliver, which is an added benefit to having them close to where we live. Since our place is only a few blocks from the store, we’ve opted to walk home. Of course, there are certain smells that get to me. But it’s a nice morning, and I want to have a nice stroll with my husband.

     Jake and I take our time, walking side-by-side. “Well, that was a productive morning,” I comment, threading my arm through his. He makes a sound of agreement, and I smile to myself. “Just think. In three months, she’ll be here. Maybe by then, we’ll have a middle name picked out.”

     “I thought we agreed on Elizabeth.”

     “We did. But then, I realized that her initials would be M.E.H. You know, ‘meh’. Doesn’t convey the right message.” He chuckles. “I know! I know. I’m over-thinking things again. Maybe we’ll keep Elizabeth on the table.” I stop for a moment, thinking. I tend to lean toward the old-fashioned names, and so I suggest “What about Katherine?”

     “I thought we ruled that one out.”

     “We did?” I scrunch up my nose, scanning my memory banks. “I don’t think so.”

     “Yup. It was during our ‘Olivia, Elizabeth, Anne, Katherine, Jade’ debate.”

     “Really?” I roll my eyes. “I guess my pregnancy brain has struck again. Well, I guess we can revisit Katherine and Olivia.”

     “What about Jade?”

     I don’t particularly like that name, but Jake seems to favor it. And you know what they say about marriage: it’s important to make compromises. “All right. We can revisit Jade.”

     We pass by a bakery that happens to have its doors open, and the scent of freshly-baked bread wafts toward me. This, thankfully, is one of the few scents that doesn’t bother me. If anything, it makes my stomach growl. Loudly.

     “Sorry. Guess it’s that bread. Smells delicious,” I say with a blush.

     Jake laughs. “I’m a little hungry, too. What do you want?”

     My response is immediate. “Bagel. Plain cream cheese.”

     We break apart and, while Jake enters the bakery, I sit down on a nearby bench so I can rest my back. I look down at my belly and give it a light, affectionate rub. “What do you think, little one? Do you want to be ‘Maya Jade’ or ‘Maya Katherine’? How about this: one kick for Jade. Two for Katherine.” One kick. “Traitor,” I tease with a little laugh.

     My mirth soon comes to a screeching halt when I hear a familiar, feminine voice say to me “Hello, Lilah.”

     I close my eyes and cringe as chills run up my spine. I let out a steadying breath, open my eyes, and look up at the intruder. “Simone,” I greet cooly.

     She looks down at me, eyebrow raised. Damn! “I see you have a new addition on the way. Congratulations.”

     “Thank you.” I look in the direction of the bakery, but it’s too crowded to see my husband. Jake, where are you? Hurry up! I think to myself.

     “Well, I’m very happy to see that things are going so well for you.”

     “Thanks.” I have to get out of here. Pronto. “ Umm ... I hate to be rude, but I really should get going. I have to work in a few hours.” I make a move to stand up, hoping she’ll take the hint, and stop in my tracks when she speaks again.

     “Are you still in touch with Jake?” I roll my eyes up at the heavens and turn around to face her, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I know you two were close. I lost touch with Jake a while ago, and I’m wondering if he’s all right.”

     Not wanting to give away too much information, I keep things vague. “He’s fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me ...”

     I don’t know what to do. I want to get away from Simone; from the negativity and stress she’s making me feel. But I can’t just leave Jake behind. Especially without notice. Chewing on my lower lip, I try to work out what I should do. Deciding I should warn Jake, I duck into a nearby shop and pull my phone out of my purse. In a matter of moments, I’ve typed out my warning and sent it to him.

     Jake, S.O.S. Simone just showed up. She’s outside the bakery. She knows about the baby, and she asked about you. I’m hiding out in the flower shop nextdoor.

     I let out a long breath and run a hand over my belly, trying to calm down. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I begin to pace, hoping Jake will get my message in time. The florist asks if I’m all right, sharing a concerned glance with one of her customers. I give them both a nod and say “I’m fine.” I stay close to the window, looking out every now and then. Still no sign of Jake.

     “Is there anything I can help you with?” the florist asks.

     “No. I’m just waiting for my husband. Thank you.”

     The florist nods, seeming to accept my answer. “Would you like some water? I can bring out a chair, if you’d like to sit down.”

     “Water would be great. Thank you.”

     The florist approaches me a little while later, presenting me with a cold bottle of water. “Are you sure you don’t want a chair?”

     “I’m fine. Just wondering where my husband is,” I say, trying to play it off as a pregnant wife who’s feeling impatient. I take a few gulps of water and put the cap back on, pretending to be a potential customer. “These arrangements are lovely. Have you been in business long?”

     “Six years. If you don’t mind ... what are you having?”

     Rubbing my belly affectionately, I answer “A girl. She’s our first baby, and she’s due in June.”

     “Your first. How exciting!” She pauses for a moment. “May I offer you some free, unsolicited advice?” I nod. “Take as many pictures as possible. To this day, I regret not doing that with my children.”

     I give her a smile. “My husband is a photographer. I’m sure we’ll be up to our ears in pictures. I don’t know how many he’s taken of me and my bump.” I look out the window again, frowning when I see Jake. Seems he wasn’t able to sneak past Simone after all. “Umm ... I see my husband outside. Thank you for the water.” I open my wallet and pull out some money, intending to reimburse her, but she waves me off.

     “No need to worry about that. You just enjoy that baby of yours.”

     “I will. Thank you, Molly.”

     Bracing myself, I push open the door and step outside. As predicted, Jake’s reunion with Simone is a tense one. He is facing me, his expression stern. Simone, meanwhile, has her back to me. Seems my text message didn’t make a bit of difference. Either he didn’t have a chance to read it before he left the bakery, or he received it in time and decided not to hide out until Simone was gone. I’m not exactly thrilled about being near that woman again. Knowing what she did to Jake makes my skin crawl, and I don’t want her to try to weasel her way back into Jake’s life. But Jake needs my support, and I’m tired of hiding. And so, smoothing down my dress and squaring my shoulders, I step into what feels like Ground Zero. As I move closer, I can pick up on what Simone is saying.

     “I don’t understand you, Jake. Two years’ worth of silence. Because of what? Because I went back to Etienne? Because I chose to make a life for myself?” She shakes her head, making a single clucking sound with her tongue. “I’m disappointed in you, Jake. I thought that, with a little time, you’d come to your senses. I thought you were more mature than this.”

     Jake’s eyes narrow into a glare, his jaw clenching. If I’m going to make my move, it’s now. Without saying a single word to Simone, I step around her and take my place by Jake’s side. I reach out and take his hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He returns the gesture and then says “Simone, you remember Lilah ... my wife.”

     The petty side of me wishes I could take a picture of Simone, because her reaction is priceless. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her flabbergasted.

     “Your wife?”

     “Yes. His wife.” I hold up my left hand to show her the simple white gold wedding band that graces my finger.

     Simone casts a look in Jake’s direction, and he simply stares back at her. “When did this happen?”

     “Last year,” Jake states with a smirk.

     “Oh! Well ... congratulations! I’m happy for you two.”

     “Are you?” Jake snarks back.

     She blinks at him, and she has the gall to act surprised. “Yes, Jake. Of course I am. I know we’ve had our differences, but I just want you to be happy.”

     “Really?” He shakes his head. “You want me to be happy? Is that why you tried to come between us?” He gestures between himself and yours truly. “Is that why you tried to put doubts in our heads?”

     “Jake, I --”

     “Don’t!" He leans toward Simone, looking her directly in the eyes. She seems to be intimidated by him now, and it’s a wonderful sight. For once, the manipulator seems to be backed into a corner. Jake keeps his voice low, but his anger comes through loud and clear. “Don’t deny it! Don’t try to twist things around! Don’t you fucking dare try to manipulate me again! For years, I let you get away with it because I was terrified that you’d write me off and abandon me. You knew that, and you used that to keep me under your thumb.”

     “Jake --”

     He lets go of my hand, and I watch while a few pedestrians give us strange looks as they pass by. “Whenever I came close to finding happiness apart from you, you did everything you could to take it away. You did that with my business plans, and I let you. You did the same thing when Lilah and I got together. That time, you failed because I love her ... and she loves me. And for once in my life, I feel safe.” Simone stares back at him, and Jake nods at her. “That’s right, Simone. I feel safe with Lilah. Do you know why? It’ because she doesn’t lie to me or manipulate me. All she has ever done is stand by me and love me. And you hate it because it means that I don’t need you anymore! It means can’t control me or keep me under your thumb! For once, I’m living my life the way I want to!”

     Simone stays silent this time. Maybe it’s because her shock has rendered her speechless, or maybe it’s because she knows better than to try to argue with Jake. He stays quiet for a while, taking a series of deep breaths. Then he looks around, and I watch him carefully as he leans even closer to Simone. What he says next seems to shake her to her very core.

     “And I remember what you did to me, Simone.” He nods at her, his pale skin flushed with anger. “That’s right. I don’t remember how young I was when it started, but it did happen. You can say that you were a child. But I was a child, and what you did to me ... It’s sick. You took whatever innocence I had left, and you twisted it and you degraded it. I don’t care that you were lonely. I don’t care that your parents didn’t pay attention to you. There’s no excuse for what you did to me. I trusted you, and you betrayed me.

     “Because of you, I’m damaged. Yes, my mother’s suicide messed me up. But you made life miserable for me. I don’t think I’ll ever be fixed. All I know is this: I’m better off without you. And I’ll be damned if I let you back into my life. This time, I don’t just have myself to look after. I have a wife ... and we have a child on the way. And there’s no way in Hell that I will ever let you near us again. They mean everything to me. And you? You are nothing. Stay away from me. Stay away from us. If you come near us again, you won’t be walking away.”

     The staredown lasts for what seems like an eternity until Simone backs down. Jake straightens up, takes a few steps back, and gently grabs my hand. He watches Simone for a few seconds longer, giving her a warning glare, and then walks with me in the direction of our apartment. We’re only a short distance away from our building, and Jake casts a glance behind us every now and then to make sure Simone isn’t following us. We reach our building and, when we’re certain she’s long gone, use our key to open the main door. We make our way up the stairs to the second floor and stop outside apartment 2A. It’s only now, as Jake fumbles with his key, that I see that his hands are shaking.

     “Here. Let me.”

     I gently take the key from him and insert it into the lock, turning it to the left. Another half-turn to the right, and I pull the key out of the lock. We step inside and Jake closes the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. After setting the key down in the dish on the table by the door, I step forward and reach out to him. Because of my belly, I can’t give him a full-frontal hug like I used to. Instead, I wrap an arm around him and lean against him, my head resting on his shoulder. The palm of his left hand is pressed against the small of my back, while his other hand rests on my belly.

     “Are you okay?” I ask, listening as his breathing slows down to a normal pace.

     He breathes out a sigh and kisses the top of my head, breathing in my scent. “I’ll be okay. What about you? Are my girls okay?”

     “Yeah. We’re fine. I’m sorry she ambushed you. I thought that if I went into the bakery, I’d lead her straight to you. That’s why I texted you and hid out in that flower shop. I didn’t know what else to do.”

     “Hey. It’s not your fault. You and I both knew she’d show up again.” He pauses for a few seconds. “I needed it. I had to tell her what she did to me. She’ll probably never stop making excuses. But ... I think it’s safe to say she’s out of our life for good.”

     We pull apart and face each other, and I reach out to touch his face. Stroking his cheek with my thumb, I say “I know what happened back there wasn’t easy for you, but I’m proud of you. I always am.”

     He kisses the palm of my hand, and I can feel him smile against it. Then he leads me over to the sofa, where we eat our pastries in comfortable silence.

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

[pens-and-paperbacks]

"Nobody wants to work! Everyone is so lazy! No one has any work ethic!"

That's all a lie and I'm sorry you've been made to believe that. The truth is people are applying and many people have great work ethic or can be easily taught but the jobs they're forced into are so trash that if they had the choice, why would they ever actually apply there? Why would they want to work there?

My current workplace, a gas station, is sitting on at least a dozen applications but my boss won't hire any of them because, "they're welfare fodder, they've only kept a job for six months or less." We're finally hiring someone in now because, "they looked put together and have a nice looking car," but only because one of my coworkers is leaving, having out in a notice a month ago which my boss hasn't forgiven her for and is spiteful about. All of this doesn't even touch the HUGE mouse problem we had for MONTHS, the heavily leaking ceiling with a huge hole over its door, or the mold that's just everywhere throughout the fridges and the ceiling tiles. And even THAT doesn't touch on the surprising amount of racist and homophobic comments I hear from customers (or employees/my boss sometimes) here and there.

At another job I worked from the stores opening, through orientation, and watched everyone that had miraculously lasted the first two years leave because two of my managers had an affair, lied about it to everyone, fired someone over seeing their text messages and kept messing up our supply orders. When my actual boss finally stepped in he was so out of touch with what actually needed to be done in the store that it caused worse problems. I also heard at some point, when people had to take on second jobs, that this boss was flat out doing everything he could to get rid of people because, " they were making another job their priority instead of this one."

The second job I had to take during the one mentioned just above (because I was one of those people not getting enough hours) was flat out a horrible, toxic work environment. Everyone had a bad attitude, did not want to be there and even if it seemed like they were having a good day, one wrong work or work slip up made their mood flip on a dime. I had to flat out ask to not be put on the schedule with one of the employees because they were that mean to me, and I can get along with anyone so that's saying something. The labor cost they had was absolutely ridiculous there (meaning they could only keep so many people on at a time to afford being there, possibly only two even during a lunch or dinner rush with a fully packed drive through and lobby) and when one manager decided, "I have to send my help home and work by myself for an hour, otherwise I'm gonna get yelled at about the labor cost," and singlehandedly handled one of those lunch rushes on their own. They were written up for it. They left that morning after signing that paper because, despite not being allowed to be there on your own as an employee, our boss was adamant about labor costs and could have covered for her or not told anyone. If she hadn't have some what she did, she would have actually been yelled at. It was an incredibly disrespectful move done in the name of corporate.

The one job that paid me well did so because they appreciated my work and everyone else kept leaving. I saw three raises in three months because I was essentially THE kitchen manager. That was great. Thing was, even though the people I worked with and for were good to me, it was a bowling alley/restaurant/arcade/bar where you were expected to prep, cook, take reservations, set people up on lanes via computer, serve people if your manager was busy, do light maintenance on the bowling machines and arcade machines, keep up with dishes and get the end of the day cleaning done which sometimes meant vacuuming the carpet across all eighteen lanes of customer seating and cleaning the tables/chairs stationed there too. All of that, despite the raises, was done for minimum wage starting and the place was almost always packed. I'd often get asked to stay because they kept a few employees that while good at their job they just missed shifts constantly because they knew they could, since this job had on-call shifts too. There were nights my husband picked me up that I was so sore and overworked that I would get in the car and just start sobbing. I wouldn't stop for ten minutes or more, either until we were mostly home or we got something to eat since I was normally too hungry to keep crying.

The very first job I ever got was at a pizza place. Over all it was the most laid back, despite being run by one of the Mafia families in town (of which there are a few but tbf they're very low key). The problem there was that the boss was a fucking scumbag who thought that in his case the Mafia status made him a big shot. It didn't. On a side note, his self important scumbag attitude made the other families in the area see him for the joke he was. He would make passes at the waitresses in exchange for streak dinners and money, only ever hire girls who were cute/pretty as waitresses so he could have a chance at doing so with someone cute/pretty. When we had a lot of money coming in he would spend it on improving the bar that was attached to the restaurant, as in getting new flat screen tvs or new glasses, some trivial thing that he didn't actually need. Not the kitchen ware that needed fixing, which at one point caused me to get a third degree burn because someone ended up running into my arm with boiling hot lasagna out of an oven we didn't normally use. There was also a point where I had to deliver a pizza to him, which he ordered drunkenly and over the phone while he was in the bar only twenty feet away, but when I went to deliver it to him and grab a jug of wine I needed for the restaurant, his grandson (very politely) had to stop me from doing so because his grandfather was doing something with a woman in the backroom of the bar in the middle of the day.

Currently, I have to move out of my house and in with friends a state away with my husband because even with two people working nearly 40 hours each at a minimum wage job still isn't enough to live and thrive off of. It's nothing we can make an actual life off of. We have to leave our house behind for a season, get new jobs and save money in this new place, just so we can afford to come back and fix up and sell our house/land. Our combined income is about $30,000 flat, in a small town where everything was just affordable enough to get by. It isn't anymore.

I sent out five job applications in one month only to hear back from one with a no, the others ghosted me completely until just the other day, literally the month after.

"No one wants to work! Everyone is lazy! No one is applying!"

You don't know how bad it is and has been even before COVID. Add inflation onto the long list of fucked up, unprofessional or flat out cruel things that can be done or said in many workplaces, which you have to deal or else your fired, on top a work chore/task sheet that probably keeps you overworked and exhausted the entire week/month/year and I ask you-

Would you want to work?

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

Legislators in Iowa and Minnesota introduced bills in January to loosen child labor law regulations around age and workplace safety protections in some of the country’s most dangerous workplaces. Minnesota’s bill would permit 16- and 17-year-olds to work construction jobs. The Iowa measure would allow 14- and 15-year-olds to work certain jobs in meatpacking plants.

The Iowa bill, introduced by state Sen. Jason Schultz (R), would permit children as young as 14 to work in industrial freezers and meat coolers, provided they are separate from where meat is prepared, and work in industrial laundry.

At 15, they would be able to work as lifeguards and swimming instructors, perform light assembly-line work after obtaining a waiver from state officials, and load and unload up to 50 pounds of products from vehicles and store shelves with a waiver “depending on the strength and ability of the fifteen-year-old.”

The Iowa proposal would also expand hours teenagers can work during the school year, and would shield businesses from civil liability if a youth worker is sickened, injured or killed on the job.

Schultz did not respond to requests for comment. Critics say the proposal is dangerous and would subject child workers to hazardous environments.

“Do you remember the images of children in manufacturing and other dangerous work situations from the early 1900s?” Connie Ryan, executive director of the Interfaith Alliance of Iowa, said in testimony to state lawmakers, according to Radio Iowa. “There is a reason our society said that it is not appropriate for children to work in those conditions.”

This is disgusting. Please reblog and boost this. This is absolutely insane! American legislators are planning to put children at risk for the sake of capitalism.

And here's the worst part. Think of the types of people who will be most hurt by this. It's the people whose families have low incomes. Before child labor laws, the children who missed out on available education were the ones whose family needed every available income.

We are going to have parents allowing their kids to work, possibly at the cost of the children's education (which is one possible way a child can escape the cycle of poverty), not because they want their kid to miss out, but because even with both parents making minimum wage, it's not enough to pay the bills. The kids from more well-of families will continue to limit their work to safer jobs and jobs with hours that allow them to continue to work on school work, while kids whose parents can't always afford three meals a day will take any job they can get, even if it costs them the opportunity to get a better education.

I fucking hate American capitalism. I wish I could blaze this, but I don't have the money right now. Please reblog this for awareness.

[tatelauritzen62]

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[bourtange]

california recently passed a law, going into effect this april, that the minimum wage for fast food workers (at chains with 60 or more locations nationwide) is going up to $20/hr. meanwhile the overall minimum wage in the state is $16 as of january 1. a guy at my work was complaining about it because "mcdonalds just announced they're raising their prices in one state — guess where? california"

that guy is an idiot.

firstly, mcdonalds prices have been going up constantly since the start of the pandemic (also also, since the beginning of time because that's how inflation works). you're not complaining about any of the other price hikes you've seen, just that one that's supposedly happening because their workers are getting something closer to (but still not actually) a living wage in the state with one of the highest costs of living in the country?

the implication that mcdonalds doing this is a natural and necessary market response to the raise in labor costs is horseshit. mcdonalds, like virtually all fast food restaurants in the modern era, operates on the franchise model, which means they license their name out to local owners (franchisees), and the franchisees incur basically all the financial risk while sending a big chunk of their earnings to corporate hq. somewhere between 82% and 93% of all mcdonalds restaurants are franchised (and the company's stated goal is for that number to 95%), meaning that even being generous with which statistic we use, at most 18% of their stores are actually owned and operated by the company itself. with 1224 locations in california (and 13530 locations this means that mcdonalds' own actual labor costs are going up at, maximum, 220 stores, and possibly as few as 86. all big macs across the state have to go up so one of the biggest companies in the world, whose profit is measured by the billion, can afford to stay afloat because they had to give a tiny fraction of their workers a $4 raise? bull fucking shit. the price hike is a political stunt designed to piss off people with no critical thinking skills like the guy at my work in order to get them to fight against their own interests. because at the end of the day,

any wage worker who opposes anyone's wage increase is a fool

the fast food wage hike takes away nothing from anyone who doesn't work in fast food. instead, it puts upward pressure on all wages. places like target, whose starting pay is typically a little bit above minimum wage, and who never used to have to worry about losing their labor force to burger king, are going to have to raise their wages to keep their staff from leaving for higher pay in fast food. even at my entry level office job, where i make more than minimum wage but certainly less than $20 an hour, when our next union contract negotiation begins, you better believe the first words across that bargaining table are going to be "don't you think our work is at least as skilled and valuable as frying chicken mcnuggets?"

the cost of living in california is outrageous. even $20 isn't really a living wage. i'm pushing 40 and almost everyone i know who's around my age lives with their families or with half a dozen roommates or is on public assistance or works multiple jobs or a lot of overtime or is on the brink of homelessness or is homeless or some combination of the above. people who work fast food are human beings who need to put food on their tables and roofs over their heads and clothes on their children's backs just like everyone else. their windfall is not your downfall

workers' enemy is not other workers — our enemy is the bosses who make billions off our sweat and blood and keep us in poverty. never forget that

[nomorerww]

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/stop-telling-women-they-re-amazing

This article points out that it's men refusal to do their fair share that contributes to this "gender disparity" and never once suggest that perhaps you can't change men or have true equality soooo maybe not perpetuating the status quo is something to consider? All of these women should consider why they're concerned with perpetuating their genes in a world with an uncertain future.

And one of these women justified doing all the household chores because of husband makes a lot more money. She's internally justified her own subordination. And the real question is if this man has short work hours and didn't do work that was particularly taxing like many of these guys would he think that it's his responsibility to take her more work would he to lessen the load on her because he's not even close to doing his fair share? Would he be paying attention to the woman's struggles and feel compelled to do more work around the house whenever he has a moment of free time like these women do? Probably not. One of these men watched his wife gets shingles from all the stress of being burdened with 12 hours of work and taking on all of the domestic labor/childcare and the whole time he never intervened even though he could have.

When women do nothing to challenge these power imbalances or realize that they'd be burdened with less domestic labor if they left their husbands, they are perpetuating these unequal dynamics. Because "their husband makes more money."

Some of these women want the ego boost of having a successful little side project or venture but to also have the title of mother and a place in the world. At some point they need to recognize how their greediness fucked them over.

For other women like this, it's literally a matter of rushing to find a husband who will attempt to do a little more than some other moid would much like they rush to complete their mountains of chores. And when one of your sons grows up to be disgusting, embarrassing misogynist who claims that it's offensive to call anyone not deferring to a male-centered movement like transactivism a "feminist" your educated white hetero ass can adopt some of his misogyny and say that because some lesbians use dildos then that means that they should be perfectly comfortable with a misogynist appropriating "lesbian"'s dick. Which is totally not lesbophobia. Like OJ's mother! At least his mother has made her crotch goblins do chores at some point. That's basically all you can expect at this point. Woo-hoo! PROGRESS.

Love that she calls them spawn lol

Japan is far from being the ideal but the fact that they have little restaurants everywhere and convenience stores within a mile or two of most people's homes makes the place a lot more livable than America is. Most of us are not living in a farm where we have to process our own produce.

Restaurants should be more accessible and subsidized by the government so all their plant-based offerings are cheaper and so the burden isn't on some poor, haggard woman to meal prep/cook every day. Restaurants cook their food in batches and probably buy everything in bulk & they're less wasteful.

[tpglighting]

Tips For Getting Started With Christmas Light Installation

Christmas lights are a staple of holiday decorating, and they can add life to even the most boring home. But if you're new to the world of DIY Christmas light installation, it can be daunting to know where (and how) to start. We talked with some experts (yes, there are people who do this for a living!) and learned that there are easy ways to make your home look festive without investing hours upon hours in labor-intensive projects that go awry. Here's what they had to say:

Know what type of lights you want.

Before you head out to the store, it's important to think about what kind of lights you want. There are many different kinds and styles of Christmas decorations available on the market today, so it's best to consider these factors before purchasing your new lights:

Ease of installation - If you're not handy with tools and don't have much experience working with electricity, look for lights that are easy to install. Some types come with instructions included or even pre-assembled kits that make putting them up simple enough for anyone.

Maintaining your Christmas decorations - Some people prefer not having anything too permanent installed on their property year round; if this sounds like something that would bother you then avoid installing any type of permanent fixture like a light pole or tree stand (which will require regular maintenance). Instead opt for battery powered options instead! This way when winter comes around again all we have left behind us is some old batteries...and maybe some LED bulbs? They aren't toxic like traditional incandescent ones so they'll probably last longer than anything else inside our homes anyway :)

Make a plan, but be flexible.

Planning is important, but you can't plan for everything. Make a list of what you want to do and then be prepared for things to change. Don't get too attached to your plan--it's just a starting point!

The most important thing is having fun with it; if something goes wrong or doesn't go as well as expected, don't worry about it too much; just keep going and enjoy yourself! It doesn't matter if other people have more lights than you or if they use different types of lights than what you have chosen; this isn't about competing with other people so much as enjoying yourself in the process of getting ready for Christmas!

Consider your neighbors.

The next step is to consider how your lights will affect the people around you. Many communities have regulations on how bright Christmas lights can be and how far away they must be from neighboring houses. These restrictions are there for a reason--to protect everyone's ability to enjoy their own property and peace of mind, especially during the holiday season when many people want to spend time with their families and get some much-needed rest. If you live near neighbors who don't seem like they'll appreciate the impact that your lighting will have on them, consider moving it further away from their homes or even asking them if they'd rather not see any decorations at all this year (you can always put up some homemade ones instead).

Figure out how much time and energy you have to devote to lighting your home.

If you're going to be lighting your home, it's important to take into account how much time and energy you have. If you have a lot of time, then go ahead and do everything! But if it's after 9pm and all you want is some sleep, don't feel bad about just doing one section of lights. Make sure that whatever plan or schedule works best for your situation so that the work doesn't get too overwhelming.

Make sure that when making this list of tasks, items are broken down into smaller chunks instead of trying to tackle everything at once--this will make things much easier in the long run and help prevent burnout from setting in before Christmas Eve rolls around!

Learn how to connect strands of lights, if you're not using prelit strands.

If you're not using prelit Christmas lights, there are a few things to keep in mind when connecting strands of lights. When connecting the ends of two different color strands together (such as red and white), it's important that they be joined with one wire end facing up on both sides. This will ensure that the polarity is correct so that your bulbs work properly.

If you're using multiple types of bulbs--like incandescent bulbs along with LED bulbs--make sure to read the packaging carefully before attempting any kind of connection. Some manufacturers recommend using special connectors or adapters for this purpose; others may require specific wiring techniques or even extra hardware such as extension cords or power strips so that all of your strands stay powered at once without tripping breakers throughout your house!

Get creative with lighting placement!

One of the best ways to get started is by using your own judgment. Don't rely on instructions that come with an item; instead, use your own creativity and make it look however you want! This can be a great way to get out all of that pent-up holiday spirit in your family--and who knows? Maybe they'll even think it's pretty cool when they see how much work went into making those lights look so festive!

However, while getting creative with lighting placement may seem like a good idea at first glance, there are some things that should always remain constant: safety should always come first. Whether this means banning children from helping install lights or making sure everyone wears protective gear when stringing up those strands (or both), keep safety top-of-mind throughout this process so no one gets hurt while decorating their homes for Christmas time!

TPG Lighting LLC is your full service christmas light installation orlando Specialists located in Sanford, FL. We will design, install and maintain all types of custom outdoor and indoor lighting displays from residential to commercial properties.

TPG Lighting LLC is a licensed electrical contractor that specializes in indoor and outdoor Christmas light Orlando installation. With our years of experience installing holiday lighting, we can help add the perfect decorative touch to your home

TPG Lighting LLC 4150 Incubator Ct, Sanford, FL 32771, United States 407-917-7748 http://orlandochristmaslights.net/

[vernalseason]

Minority opinion: I loved working in food service.*

Sure, there were all the usual terrible parts that time has helped me forget. Terrible hours, terrible bosses, terrible pay, etc., etc.—but for all of the doubles and close-opens and enduring wrist injuries and Pavlovian startle responses whenever I heard a door open, I really enjoyed what I did.

As I've said elsewhere, I managed an ice cream shop for about five years. It wasn't fine dining, but it was still definitively food service. As I've also said elsewhere, it was a complete madhouse during the summer tourist season, because we were the only good ice cream shop in a small town that had five (at least) summer camps, tons of restaurants, and a bunch of huge events after which everyone would inevitably say, 'let's go for ice cream!' and head to our packed shop to join the line that was already out the door.

Here's the thing about me and customer service. I am not, by nature, an extrovert. I can do a decent job pretending if circumstances require, or if I am in a good mood. Recently I have even made an effort to be more consistently outgoing, to speak up, and even to continue conversations where before I would have coughed awkwardly and tried to get back to work. Five years previously, I was not doing any of these things. If I was not at work, I was at home, alone, enjoying the blissful silence of an apartment in an area my partners have since dubbed 'axe murderer country'.**

But here's the thing about food service: there's a pattern to it. And I'm great at patterns.

Even at the very start, when I had zero previous service experience, the job was DEEPLY calming. That's not to say it was EASY, but once I learned the basics it was a short leap to build a kind of mental flowchart: if this, then that. Customer wants to know about a flavor? Here's a perfect little paragraph I memorized, which I'd recite in the exact same intonation every time, like a song. Customer wants a scoop? Same motion, same size, same little dance of steps to get to the freezer. We're out of spoons? I know exactly where they are, and I'll bring up a couple more packs so we've got some backstocked. It was beautifully predictable, and even on the craziest nights it was mostly a matter of prioritizing all the tasks I already knew how to do.

And sure, there was some stuff I enjoyed less than the rest. Milkshakes were always annoyingly labor-intensive (try scooping four scoops of ice cream from a box that's just been brought up from a -20°F walk-in and see what I mean), and cleaning always, always sucked. But I loved the routine of opening the store, getting things ready for the day, getting a brief period of alone time before the first customers—usually looking for lattes—trickled in.

But up until working in the shop, I'd felt like I was drifting from one position to another, not really connecting with anything, never motivated or interested enough to do an especially good job. But this was work that made me feel stable, and comfortable, and grounded. Sure, every so often someone would try to engage me in small talk, and I could listen and nod politely and then excuse myself to take the next customer. But it was also a job that felt like it had a more urgent purpose: making people happy.

I loved working specifically in an ice cream store. Cafes have to deal with people cranky for their caffeine; restaurants have to deal with picky and demanding customers on top of the many complications inherent in both waitstaff and cooking positions. But with ice cream, you're getting people who start off in a good mood and only get better. Teenagers on first dates, families bringing their young kids for their first ice cream or for a treat or celebration, or, more commonly, people who just decided 'screw it, let's get ice cream.' Because everyone loves ice cream.

I took customer happiness seriously when I was just a low-level scooper, and I continued to take it seriously as a manager. In retrospect, I think I was a bit of a zealot. My then-colleagues, now-partners were not shy in telling me so. But I believed very earnestly and sincerely that the point of my being there was to make people happy, and fulfilling that purpose made me happy in turn. If I could move a little faster, smile a little more honestly, give people just a few more interesting tidbits about the ice cream (did you know how dramatically the flavor of vanilla differs between regions? here, taste these three different varieties—) then that was a win. It quieted something in me, and for as long as I was working there, working a straightforward floor shift was kind of like meditation. Zone out, follow the flowchart, and wake up when the shift was over. Relaxing.

Anyway. Food service can and does suck a lot of the time, and I'm glad I'm not doing it any more. But there are some things I glad I got to experience, and some I still miss.

*I never encountered any axe murderers, but with a nearby lime quarry and only an iron bolt from the 1700s to lock my doors with, it would have been pretty easy for one to get in, and pretty likely that the neighbors—who were a healthy distance away—would not have heard anything.

**I never encountered any axe murderers, but with a nearby lime quarry and only an iron bolt from the 1700s to lock my doors with, it would have been pretty easy for one to get in, and pretty likely that the neighbors—who were a healthy distance away—would not have heard anything.

[museums-are-cool123]

The Dinosaur Hall

Cleaning the dinosaur hall — Dinosaurs in their Time — was our main project this semester. An annual fall tradition, the Paleontology and Conservation Departments team up to clean the Hall's exhibits. Paleontology is in charge of the dinos, and Conservation covers the ground and foliage.

By "Paleontology," I mainly mean Linsly and her two volunteers — a small portion of the Paleontology Department. Linsly trained under Gretchen and is often in charge of us when Gretchen is unavailable. Quiet and meek in nature, Linsly is sweet and always greets us good morning. Her office sits in the Paleo Prep Lab, a large lab dedicated to storing specimens and making casts. We store our conservation cart, vacuum, and belongings in a corner of the lab next to the giant mastodon pelvis that says "MASTODON HIP BONE" as if you couldn't tell.

Linsly and her team stand on ladders or lifts and use various brushes and Swiffers to dust the old bones. Starting at the archosaurus exhibit, we moved to dryosaurus and Ceratosaurus, then to stegasaurus, to "The Green Scene," then to the allosaurus and apatosaurus display, to camptosaurus, and now we're at the "Dinosaurs with Feathers" display. The exhibit has three fake birds in the exhibit.

"At the time, when we built this exhibit, we didn't realize just how many dinosaurs actually had feathers," Gretchen said, nodding to the display case, which was filled with numerous slabs of feathered and fossilized dinosaurs.

Once the paleontology team finishes dusting the bones, we clean the rest of the foliage:

Dust

Collect loose leaves/debris

Dust and vacuum ground

Wash all foliage

Reorganize exhibit

An exhibit takes between 10-20 hours to complete, depending on the number of fake plants and the size of the exhibit. One fern takes me about 15 minutes to dust, and about double the time to water.

It's menial work, and many visitors apologize or told us that it "must be a labor of love" — but there is an art to it that's fun once you figure it out.

It's satisfying, for one. But sometimes you find secret crevices in the exhibit that are untouched, where the dust is so thick you can pick it off with your fingers. Dust bunnies are considered invasive to the exhibits, and they have even been found in some of the most desolate environments of the Hall. It's pretty sometimes — the way it flies off surfaces in a gentle puff, it's slight iridescent sheen, the diversity in its contents.

Dust is the accumulation of our everyday lives — sloughed off skin cells, clothing fiber, hair, pollen, soil, plastics, bacteria, bug parts, dust mites — and causes significant damage to museum collections. Dust and dust mites may cause allergic reactions or asthma-like symptoms, and are most dangerous to children and toddlers. Dust can also carry contaminants and toxins that can be harmful to both people and collections. That, and dust isn't pretty.

There were methods that we were told and some we learned ourselves:

Work top to bottom

Work back to front

Use different brushes for different objects

Don't touch the bones!

If something breaks, tell someone IMMEDIATELY

Cover the motion sensors

For the ground, we pat a Swiffer underneath foliage, focusing on hard-to-reach and unvacuumable areas. We use a bristled circular head for vacuuming and lift it about an inch above the ground to buffer the suction.

Watering has no real tips, you simply wash the plant with a damp rag. When Gretchen first taught Celia and I, she demonstrated just that.

"... and that's it." Gretchen said with a beaming smile. Celia and I blinked. That truly was it. Sometimes it requires a bit of elbow grease, but that truly is it.

Gretchen likes makeup sponges for watering, but they deteriorate and leave white flecks on the foliage. Celia and I prefer microfiber cloths and I especially like Q-tips. On our watering days, Celia grabs water from the bathroom while I set up our containers: a small Tupperware container that holds Q-tips (I put them in there for Celia but she rarely uses them), a smaller Tupperware of water, and a variety of cloths. The little "go" pack helps protect the exhibit from Me and Celia's clumsy habit of spilling water, and helped us not take as many trips to our conservation cart.

Yes, it may be a menial job, but we're interns and have to start somewhere. Doing an easy, low-stakes task while being a few feet (inches sometimes!) away from a real dinosaur definitely beats sitting in front of my computer screen for 10 hours a week.

[dzpenumbra]

11/24/22

Second trip down today. A bit of a messy start. Slept like crap, I got about 8 hours but woke up like 3 times. Either I'm having sleep apnea breathing problems that are waking me up again, or I was starving in my sleep. Either way, I started the day with my Sims-style Needs meters like this:

Food - 0/10

Water - 2/10

Sleep - 6/10

Confidence - 7/10

I called my mom to get some help with some logistics stuff and shit went haywire. I was super stressed so I wasn't too surprised, but I stood by it and we worked it out pretty quickly. But it cost me half an hour. And my plan was to get caffeine and food on my way out of town.

My mom brought a dolly and a foldable cart thing, which helped the move monumentally. My new mattress showed up today, which was perfect. An early christmas gift, to make life infinitely easier not having to strap my ancient 15 year old mattress to my rental car for a 2.5 hour drive. It's one of them space mattresses from Helix or whatever it's called, my brother recommended it. The thing was fucking heavy. So the dolly was a must, and it bailed my ass out big time.

I got shit sorted, leveled stuff out with my mom and started the drive. Got a gigantor Monster and some shit food from the general store. I did the self-checkout they installed in this like small-town general store. The dude working the counter tried really hard to like go above and beyond to like... kinda flex his usefulness a bit? I say this because I know this guy. I have no idea if he remembers me, I would wager he does... I think he's the manager? At least a supervisor. He had kinda been friendly for a bit to me about 3 years ago - this general store is like right around the corner from my current house. But one day he was out in the parking lot and yelled out "get a job" to me as I drove by on the wrong fucking day, and I really don't know why he even would... at his own place of work... but it stuck with me hard. And I kinda avoided the place after that. So... like 3 years later... I'm pulling my car out of the parking lot kinda laughing to myself, thinking back to him yelling that at me... and now saying, "Who needs a job now, dude? You got replaced by a fucking iPad."

I struggle a lot with self-worth... as in... struggling regularly with imposter syndrome. We live in a culture where survival is dictated by wealth, so... your contributions to society and your capabilities seem to be valued superficially by income as well. At least people seem to try to push that narrative, and for some reason seem to be succeeding. Your ability to survive is not based on the quality of your contributions, your quality of character or your level of skill - it's based on whether you make motherfucking money. See, my big mistake in my life has been following my passion, my thirst for knowledge, my inspiration and my unshakable will to create. Training my skills, going outside my comfort zone, devoting myself to my craft. Instead of just doing something for money so that people won't be mad at me or jealous of me, and then standing on the edge of a bridge in my mid 40's wondering what the fuck I did with my life. I genuinely feel horrific for people who have the talent, inspiration and commitment that I have, who don't have financial stability to pursue it. And our society, fuck, our species should be deeply ashamed of ourselves that we treat those with true gifts as... worker ants. And we sneer at Asian countries like only they exploit their populations for cheap labor... Meanwhile, multi-billion dollar companies bait creatives to come produce "content" for them - a product that, if absent, would disintegrate their company overnight - and then take a fucking 45% cut. Minimum.

See what happens when I think about this shit? I rabbit-hole so hard, it's so goddamn embarrassing how exploited creatives are. And the peer-pressure to sell out to corporate interests nowadays is like... I have legit never seen it like this. I came from skateboarding, punk and hardcore music origins. The core of it was community supporting community, and fuck selling out. Fuck selling your soul. We've got each other's backs, we support each other. I'm getting stressed out just going on this diatribe and I'm too tired to continue right now, you get the idea.

So... I kinda felt bad for the guy, for real. Because he probably doesn't really have a lot of marketable skills short of hospitality. So maybe he could open a bed and breakfast? Or work as a concierge or something? I bet he'd be good at that. As long as he can like... keep his jealously or whatever it was that he was pissed off at me that one day for in check. I hope he finds a good future that brings him a sense of peace and purpose, I truly mean that. And I hope I can stick to mine, and come back to him one day and say "hey, you yelled at me one day 'get a job', well... this is my job." And then pull out something I made for him and give it to him, on the house. Part of me wants to say something like "don't judge a book by its cover", but a big lesson I'm trying to learn lately is this idea that... it's really not my job to "teach people lessons", it's their job to learn lessons. And you can't "change" people. So... I think a gesture of just demonstrating that you don't really know what's going on in someone's life, and having that karmically go in his favor rather than being bitter and laughing at his misfortune... it's just a better ending all around. At least I think.

The drive went well, pretty easy. The energy drink and food helped a lot. I was fading towards the end but I did it. I lugged the mattress in, luckily I'm really close to the back door which is the bee's motherfuckin knees because I'm gonna be able to go out and smoke super easy before bed. I have a loft bed with steep stairs going up. I was tempted to just... leave the mattress there for another day because of how ridiculously heavy it was. But I said fuck it and hauled this thing stair by stair up. 10 stairs total. The dolly was a life saver, no way I would've gotten it in the door without it. I got it out of the box and had to cut through like 15 layers of shrink wrap plastic on it with my mailbox key because I didn't have scissors. But after that, the rest of the unpacking was a breeze.

I got back on the road and back home before 7. Pretty solid trip. I tried out the auto-brights on the rental car, which is a pretty cool feature. Oh yeah. I noticed something really crazy, check this out.

So I have astigmatism, which can make headlights and really any lights at night pretty overwhelming. They just kinda burst out like fireworks and can overwhelm my vision, which makes driving at night pretty scary. Especially trucks, good lord. The worst is when I have a car behind me and the headlights are in the rear-view mirror just overwhelming my vision the whole time, even regular headlights will do it. Brights are just flat-out dangerous. I've pulled over my car many times just to let people pass me because I've been like convinced I was going to get in an accident. But in this rental... they did something to the rear-view mirror. I could tell because the side-views were the same way my car is, the light is bright and starbursts out and overwhelms me, but in the rear view... it was like... it must've had some kind of light filter on it or something? I could look directly at it no problem. Like the light barely even did that flare thing, it was pretty hard to believe. It made me feel so much safer on the drive back. Now... I did still have that problem with oncoming cars, so that was the same issue I always have, but I went like 20 minutes with someone pacing off of me and I didn't have a problem with it at all. It was crazy. So I really think I need to talk to my eye doctor about that and see if she knows what kind of glass treatment that was and whether I can get glasses with that on it for night driving. That would be actually life-changing, I would feel much safer driving at night.

So today started on a rough foot, but ended strong. My mom left some Thanksgiving food for me, which was very sweet, so I had a nice fancy dinner for myself tonight. And I kinda just sat here at the computer working on the Zen garden the rest of the night. I'm wiped. So I'm gonna head to bed.

Gonna pack some stuff and lay low, rest and recover tomorrow. Should only be one or two more trips up and I'll be moved in. =D

[zee12345666]

Interior Designer

Zee Architect is Best Interior Designer in Patna. Some Interior related points are:

For those who want to design their own home office space, here are some tips to keep in mind while designing.

The first thing that comes to mind when we think about designing our own home office space and workspace is having enough work surface area. According to the U.S. Department of Labor, the number of workers employed in offices decreased by 0.9 million between 2010 and 2011. In fact, many people today find themselves spending at least half their time working outside their homes. Therefore they need to have a place where they can work comfortably and effectively regardless of where they are.

A good way to ensure there’s ample room for work is having a desk that is big enough to accommodate your computer, monitor, printer, and accessories. If possible, you should also consider adding a small shelf underneath the desk so that you can store any items that don’t fit into the desk drawers. A good rule of thumb is to make sure each drawer holds at least 1/3 of its volume. You should also add a few shelves that hold smaller items.

If you plan to use your computer for long hours, it would be wise to invest in ergonomic chair that provides proper back support along with adjustable features. There are different types of chairs such as swivel, tilt, recline, height-adjustable, lumbar support, etc.

Another thing to remember is to always minimize distractions. Keep your phone charged and out of sight unless you absolutely have to check it. Set yourself up with comfortable lighting – natural sunlight is best if possible, but artificial lighting works well too. Finally, don�t forget to spend money on good quality materials. Your furniture shouldn�t look like it was made out of paper mache. Good quality wood furniture will last much longer than cheap plastic. Also, avoid using too many fabrics since these may wear out quicker than other materials.

Design HomeOffice WorkSpace

Materials & Tools

Space & Lighting A good interior design (Best Interior Designer in Patna) should not only consider how things look and feel, but how they work and function together too. Most people would agree that lighting is something we spend a lot of time thinking about when designing our homes, yet it's often overlooked when it comes to designing our offices. Here are some tips to help you create a beautiful and functional office space. Materials & Tools Choosing materials that suit your environment and budget is key to making sure your space is comfortable, practical, and aesthetically pleasing. • Select flooring based on the type of activity you plan to do. Carpets hold odors, while hardwood floors withstand high foot traffic. • Consider adding shelving systems to store items efficiently in cabinets. • Keep small appliances out of sight and use open shelves to display larger pieces. • Use natural light wherever possible. Space & Lighting The size of your workspace is going to dictate what types of lighting you need. If you have a smaller space, try using desk lamps instead of overhead lights. Lamps can provide enough light without taking up much room. • Be aware of where the sun peaks at different times throughout the day. Try to position windows towards these directions as much as possible to maximize the amount of natural light entering your space. • If sunlight cannot enter your office completely, consider purchasing artificial lighting. • Make sure that any electrical outlets you install are located away from furniture.

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Zee Architect is Best Interior Designer in Patna.