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This is the new house of our darling power couple. You thought they would live in forest like Ranfords? Lol, no.
Lyndsay believes that gardening and cooking from scratch makes her
better than othersmore feminine.
As church now belongs to Hsus, they must visit it every day.
Lyndsay tried to fix what Jihoon screwed up. Jihoon doesn't mind that his wife is now responsible for business - after all she is still submitting to him, right?
While Lyndsay worked, Jihoon run into his long-time friend from townie days, Ryan Wheeler. Ryan is quite fundie already and dreams about starting a Christian music band.
"You want to join?"
"No, having job would make it harder for me to witness to lost souls. We and Lyndsay, we trust God when it comes to our finances."
Jihoon wasn't joking - Hsus indeed take soulwinning (and associated moneywinning) very seriously.
During their first days of marriage, they started several ministries dedicated to just that:
"Talking with strangers on streets" ministry that soon resulted with some very generous gifts, such as a large tv, a computer, and 10% discount for furniture.
(No worries, kilts are allowed for men.)
"Inviting people over for dinner" ministry that allows Hsus to build better relationships with sims they are already friends with. So one day they can ask the Big Question (the "do you want to give me all your money and move in my house to serve as my personal unpaid maid?" one).
"Journey to the Heart for Young Men" - when Jihoon invites over his buddies, and they do Manly Things.
"Journey to the Heart for Young Women" - when Lyndsay invites over her ladies, and they spend an evening convincing her old friend from townie days to change her wardrobe.
"Honey, you need something more modest, more feminine... Something that compliments your delicate nature and your Christian role models."
Camryn Lee wasn't so sure. She was used to her old style.
And, yes, as you probably noticed, they adopted a dog - a very friendly Labrador named Lulu. She likes walks and playing fetch, but hates dog food and only eats sims' leftovers or flowers.
After selling gifts townies gave them, Hsus were able to build bathrooms for church.
Two separate gender specific bathrooms, of course. One would have been cheaper, but... you know.
All this hard work ultimately had fruits. During one of JTTH for Young Women meetings, Camryn finally had an epiphany – she must give all her money to these people, move in with them to spend her life serving
So she did. I don't know, what makes her so excited about sleeping in a tent, but it's her life.
Another news: the pregnancy test didn’t lie! Lyndsay is expecting for sure!
So South La is having winter this weekend. That means plenty of sleety, yucky rain. The Dog Thing is practicing her "fast as possible" potty routine and the cats are a bunch of stir crazy slut bags either running about the house or sleeping all super cute on stuff. I've been tearing my hair out trying to get some creative ideas to happen with my final project this week as well as simply getting something show worthy together for next semester. Of course, Thor is the most helpful kitty ever! He likes to rattle the things around in my tool box, so I kept telling him no. Alright mama, I'm just gonna lay riiiiigghht here.
We have an older house and there are these sort of free standing tall double cabinets separating the kitchen from the living room. The tops are about a foot from the ceiling. He's figured out he can balance on the back of an antique recliner we have in the living room and launch himself up there. He apparently gets way more out of that than navigating the horde of randomness that's on top of the fridge. *sigh* at least he isn't scaling my curtains anymore.....
Currently trying to find what gets vaseline out of a toddlers hair my toddler joy got into the vaseline and I'm wondering how the heck im going to get this out of her hair. How many washes will this take to come clean this is gonna be a long night
Hey everyone! In advance of Thanksgiving, I thought I'd share a family turkey recipe! Fair warning, this takes FOREVER to cook. I do it in advance of the big day. Enjoy.
Sauce: Enough for or a 15 pound turkey or smaller
Relajo (spice mix).. you can find this at some Mexican grocery stores in a little baggie or make your own
3 chopped onions
2 Red bell peppers chopped
1/2 small can tomato paste
12 peeled tomatoes (from a can, buy two large cans and use 12, plus juice)
2 cartons Chicken stock
Toast the relajo on a frying pan until its fragrant
Cook the onions until transluesent, add bell peppers and relajo
Add tomatoes and tomato juice
Cook low and bubbly for 30 min
Blend the sauce as fine as possible (you can use regular blender, but let it cool before blending, or immersion blender)
Add half carton of chicken stock and cook for 20 min
Get another pot. Place a fine strainer over the empty pot, and slowly strain the sauce into the pot using a spoon to push the sauce against the strainer and squeeze as much juice out as possible. This juice should be thin and red. Place the pulp into a bowl and repeat until all the thick blended sauce is strained.
Now take the pulp and put it back in the original pot, adding another half carton of stock. Cook for 20 min.
Repeat the straining. Cook one more time with more broth. Strain again. (so three rounds of cooking and straining)
You can throw away the pulp, and what you have left in the pot is your sauce! Season to taste. If its too sour, mix in some brown sugar
For the turkey:
· Worcestershire sauce
· 1/2 cup white wine
· Stuffed spanish olives
The night before, poke the turkey with a fork. Rub the butter, mustard, and worcestershire sauce all over the turkey and get inside the skin
Put the turkey in a pan with the sauce, olives and capers drained, white wine, paprika and cook in oven.
Make sure you baste often it while its cooking
The sauce gets its final flavor from the turkey. After cooking with the turkey, it can be frozen used as sauce on other things. Also, a good Salvadoran post-thanksgiving meal is pan con pavo/ pan con chumpe, which is a turkey sandwich with the sauce, radishes, and cucumbers. Use a crusty bread.
Sauce can be made a week in advance, and keep in Tupperware in the fridge. Or freeze if holding for longer.
Throwback to last year's stuffing recipe:
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If you’ve read my posts on FJ for a while, you’ve probably heard me mention that I have scoliosis. I underwent a spinal fusion when I was fourteen, and I’ve had a fourteen-inch titanium rod with screws and hooks holding it into place against my spinal column. As you can imagine, this sometimes gets uncomfortable.Spoiler
Now, from what we can tell now, I inherited the gene from my mother’s side of the family—because guess who also has scoliosis? That’s right, everybody’s favorite, Aunt PJ. To be clear, the difference between my scoliosis (and subsequent surgery) and Aunt PJ’s scoliosis is something like this:
Necessary disclaimer: I don’t doubt that Aunt PJ’s scoliosis causes her discomfort—I’m sure it does. But, as you can see, it’s akin to comparing a deep paper cut with someone who just cut their finger off in a cigar cutter. I can't tell you what I wouldn't give for a ten percent curve, even after my surgery. That doesn’t stop Aunt PJ, though, and she wants you to know she’s in horrific. pain. every. day. Of course she does.Spoiler
Given that we have the same diagnosis, it should come as a shock that when I had my surgery (and subsequent lengthy hospital stay and recovery time), Aunt PJ didn’t reach out to me once, either through card or phone call. But that’s Aunt PJ for you—if it’s not about her, it’s not important.Spoiler
After the death of my grandmother, my mother moved back to her home state and moved into the family home to help settle the estate. As I’ve mentioned previously, Aunt PJ also lived there with two of her three children. This was also my first year in college, and I couldn’t come home from school to visit my mother. Why, do you ask? Because there wasn’t a decent bed available to me to sleep in, a requirement in my life post- surgery. That’s right, a woman with scoliosis wanted me to just sleep on a cot. I ended up not visiting my mother for a year, until she moved. Four beds in the house and no one could give one up for a couple of nights so I could sleep and still walk in the morning.Spoiler
Over the years, Aunt PJ’s scoliosis has supposedly gotten worse. She posts frequently about her pain and discomfort on Facebook and in person, eliciting sympathy from kinder-hearted folk than me. She now visits a chiropractor and refuses to sit on soft seating such as sofas and armchairs. Several times, Aunt PJ sat on a dining room chair and explained to me that her scoliosis kept her from sitting on the couch…while I was sitting on the couch. Trust me, Aunt PJ, if my twisty straw of a back can handle it, so can yours.Spoiler
So each and every visit I have with her, I get to hear about her wretched, pain-filled life (in which she is healthy enough to travel long distances, sit and stand for extended lengths of time, and participate in physical activities like yoga and going to the gym--you know, stuff that is difficult for me to do). And does she ever ask me how I’m managing? Yeah, you have two guesses and the first one doesn’t count.Spoiler
So here's a ship I did from Lost Ocean. My usual Cra-Z Art colored pencils (72 count) (because twistables has a horrible selection of blue). If you look REALLY closely you'll see that I'm not in the lines sometimes in the small places. Which became more or less an artistic choice.
I posted the skull that was on the opposite page in the new coloring club.
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By Maggie Mae,
The Long Winter, and Spring, and Summer. Pages 215-230 (Kindle).
If I make it through these 15 pages, we will be done with Part 1 of this book!
Recap: Cathy and her siblings are trapped in an attic. I believe they are literally locked it, but they are also emotionally trapped. Their mother is a piece of gold-digging trash, and their grandmother would punish the Maxwells for having too much fun. On Christmas, the downstairs people had a party while the children upstairs skulked around and spied on their rich relatives.
The children are cold. They are watching ungodly amounts of television. Cathy compares her life to that of "invalids, sick people, and old people" because they eat, bathe, and dress daily to sit down and watch tv. I'd make a joke about Americans, but come to think about it, most of us do other things besides TV. Even the "invalid, sick, and old" people. For one, there is the internet.
It's so cold that they huddle in the bedroom, not going into the attic. Cathy claims that the TV is teaching them how to spell and pronounce difficult words. Sesame Street doesn't debut until 1969, so I don't know what they are watching that teaches them how to spell. Was there a predecessor? I do not know. I am, however, remembering watching Sesame Street and being so confused as to why no one would teach me how to make a "2" the same way that Kermit did. Also, Kermit is my favorite and I think his investigative work contributes to my love of journalism. (Real journalism, not 24 hour cable news or list bait stuff.)
Cathy's 13th birthday is coming up in April, so she examines her skin daily to check for acne. I get the impression that they are having difficulty distinguishing advertisements from documentaries.
Both Chris and Cathy have reached puberty and are "growing hair where we hadn't had hair before." Cathy plucks the "funny looking, crispy, amber-colored hair" with tweezers whenever she can, but she notices that they keep coming.
Chris catches her one day with her arm raised and asks her what she is doing. She "likes her body nice and neat" and he tells her to think of the hair as sexy. This could be a somewhat charming scene, but it's creepy. He ruined it. And then she ruins it some more by saying that "big bosoms were sexy, not crinkly, wiry hair." And then goes on about how she has "hard little apples" poking out of her chest. And her brother looks at them quite often.
I need a shower.
I should have waited on the shower.Quote
I was coming alive, feeling things I hadn't felt before. Strange achings, longings. Wanting something and not knowing what it was that woke me up at night, pulsating, throbbing, excited, and knowing a man was there with me, doing something I wanted him to complete, and he never did...he never did... always woke up to soon, before I reached those climactic heights I knew he would take me to - if only I wouldn't wake up and spoil it all.
Shockingly, she's also seeing stains on the boys sheets. And he tells her they are nocturnal emissions, she doesn't believe him. She tells him to go to a doctor so that Cory doesn't catch whatever is wrong with him. Chris tells her that he heard older boys talk in the locker room and it's all normal. I thought he was a doctor and was reading books about this kind of thing? She claims it's too messy to be normal.
I find it too weird to be having these dreams in the bed with your brother, and then making your sister wash the sheets. Also, poor Duggar girls.
Chris warns her that her time to mess up the sheets is coming, and he's noticed that she's developing and should talk to their mother about it. Why is he such a douche? I know he's the oldest sibling but ugh.
All of the kids are kind of each other's last nerve, which is understandable as they have been locked in a room together for months. Carrie talks constantly and freaks out if you tell her to stop. The grandmother gets upset if the beds are messed up so they can't sit on the beds. Cory fiddles with Tinker-Toys and doesn't make anything not noisy. The kids want everything they see on TV. Chris and Cathy watch soaps. My guess is All My Children because Days of Our Lives didn't come out until 1965. DooL would be my choice. I scheduled classes around it in college. I occasionally skipped lunch during high school and watched it in the band room or went home to catch it (Always watch on Fridays, they recap most of the week and leave you with a cliff hanger.) Marlena was possessed! Wait, secret island! Clones! ... Will Eric Brady finally reconnect with Nicole? He's the son of Roman and Marlena and his twin Sami is such a train wreck and then she's not! Maybe I should start going to the gym on my lunch so I can catch back up. I miss it.
In late March, Corrine comes in with a box. Chris takes the twins to the attic. I wonder when he cornered the mother to tell her to have the period talk with Cathy. Cathy wants to be a ballerina, not deal with periods. Don't we all, Cathy, don't we all. Corrine says there is nothing they can do. In 2017, there is! We've got Mirana and starvation. Two time tested ways to limit your period. Or you can take daily pills and just skip the sugar ones.
Corrine says that having babies is very rewarding. How, exactly, are these children rewarding to her? I get the impression she thinks of them as toys that she keeps in the attic and can go back to and play with when it's convenient for her. Corrine tells a very bitter story about how she didn't know anything about periods when she got hers for the first time.
Corrine ignores the twins when they come back from the attic. She "fondles, kisses, and fawns" over Chris.
The attic grows warmer, they take down the paper snowflakes that I forgot they made, they make spring flowers. Cathy turns 13. Cathy gets ice cream, cake, and some needlepoint kits. The twins get better gifts (IMO), ice cream, cake, an accordion and piano. There is no way the staff isn't noticing Corrine carrying objects upstairs that disappear and cartons of ice cream. Malcolm Foxworth Senior doesn't approve of men who play music and write poetry. One of her brothers was forced to work in a bank. Oh, the horrors of having to work a well paying job that gives you plenty of time to study music on the side. Malcolm Jr rebelled by buying a motorcycle and crashing it, falling hundreds of feet down a chasm and dying.
Her other brother, Joel, ran away during the funeral. He died in a skiing accident in Switzerland. They never found his body. When this happens on DOOL, you just know it's so they can recast the character later. Or the actor wants to go on vacation.
These stories disturb Chris and Cathy, as it seems as though men around their mother tend to die in tragic accidents. That's what happens when you are a character in a gothic romance novel, kids. I'm not as familiar with this series as I am with the Casteels, but I'm certain that at some point, you'll both die in a tragic accident so one of your offspring can narrate a sequel. Sorry about the luck, Cathy.
Chris is annoyed because they've read every book in the attic. Maybe your mother should bring you more books. Compared to ice cream, televisions, and accordion, books are pretty easy to sneak in. Especially paperbacks. But then again, you'll be trusting that Corrine can read well enough to figure out something you might like and don't already have. Since they don't have anything new to read, they decide to teach the twins to read and write. They don't want to and Carrie throws a screaming fit. They are 6, btw, which is old enough to not act like this. But then again, they are being raised by a sister mom and a neckbeard brother.
Corrine is down to visiting once or twice a week. Classic.
It's summer. Oh, Corrine got the message about the books, and is now stealing books from downstairs and giving them to the children in the attic. She's not looking at titles or making any effort anymore. They read a historical novel that made them enjoy history more. Somehow this book gets them talking about being naked. Cathy is on her period, it's her second one, and she is crampy. He tells her that he likes this about her particular situation, and that if it makes her into a woman like their mother, he's all for it. Thanks, asshole. Also, stop being so fucking creepy.
Cathy asks again if she thinks its odd that they've been locked up for so long. Thank you, Cathy. Please keep pressing the issue. Throughout this conversation, which is finally actually relevant to the plot, he is breathing into her hair. I'm not even joking. "His face lowered into my hair" is a direct quote from Cathy. He pulls back when she mentions mother, then embraces her again. He has to believe. Apparently he's an optimist, not just a creepy teenage boy who wants to have sex with his mother. Seriously, dude, get a reddit account and friend that guy who supposedly actually had sex with his mom after he broke his arms. They love this stuff over there. He also mentions that there must be some reason they are in the attic and not at boarding school, which is, actually a good point. The grandmother has money too! Either one of them could sneak these kids off to boarding school! Or they could leave them in a fire station or sell them on an orphan train or put them in a cottage on the edge of the property.
Corrine is now visiting rarely and not on a regular basis. She tells them that Malcolm is close to death. And then she comes back and says that he is fine. It's August and they've been there for a year. They also did not mention the anniversary of their own father's death.
With that, Part 1 is DONE. We are halfway!
Keeping Up With The Dunkels - Chapter 14: Dunkels Double Date
Back at the Miceli's, Hobart brought his doctor friend home for dinner again one night, and one of Adalyn's sisters just happened to be visiting to help with the baby.
Wow! Aimee Joy and Christian seemed to be hitting it off! "What do you think about an ice cream sundae reception?" she asked him.
"Huh? That's crazy."
Hmm... maybe not.
Uh oh... is there trouble at Adam and Mehrissa's new house?
Nope! Apparently when you adopt a pet, the police are nice enough to bring it over. Er... sure. Why question it? Adam and Mehrissa's boys had been begging for a pet for ages, and their parents finally decided to get them a little puppy named Bear. Aww!
With Mehrissa expecting another (hopefully) tiny blessing, it sure was going to be a full house soon! She wore her hot pink maternity pajamas, hoping God might take the hint.
Not long after Aimee Joy was introduced to Hobart's doctor friend Christian Cwik, Anna Grace started talking to another young man from church, Waylon Menon. She was a little worried when he expressed his admiration for women who kept in shape - that wasn't her at all! But it COULD be her!
After Waylon left, Anna Grace jumped right on that treadmill. She got off to a rocky start, but she purposed to work out every single day, determined to win Waylon's affections, and soon she was physically fit!
"Wow, I can tell you're a young lady with a heart for the Lord, who also LOVES to lift!" Waylon exclaimed, impressed, and promptly went to talk to her brother to see if he could start a group text.
*To the tune of Butterfly Kisses* "I know the cake looks funny, Daddy... but I sure tried!
Oh... wait... my daddy's dead. And he wasn't my real daddy, anyway. Oh well."
Guess what? Christian and Aimee
GraceJoy (I am seriously surprised I don't mess up these names more often, folks) may have gotten off on the wrong foot (seriously, ladies, enough with the ice cream sundaes), but soon they were getting along just fine. In fact, little adopted brother Alexander was only too happy to chaperone as they started an OFFICIAL COURTSHIP!
Aimee Joy was thrilled that her educated and employed suitor took her out on nice dates (don't worry, the chaperones are right there at the next table). She didn't mind at all that he had a gay brother in the city. What was one gay brother?! They were totally in sync on everything. They even discussed the sort of house they would move to if, Lord willing, they got married!
Anna Grace wasn't far behind her twin sister. Her dates with Waylon were a little more low key, but she didn't mind at all. She was more than happy to show off her homemaking skills by impressing him with the most complicated meal any of her sisters had ever made: spaghetti and meatballs.
Both sisters were totally sure they had found the men they were going to marry! FINALLY!!! Being single in your mid-20s is such a trial, ya'll!
Back in the Big Scary City... Abigail was still fuming about the way Gilbert had treated her. She decided she was finally going to take the plunge and try online dating.
Her first date was with a firefighter in a trench coat. She thought that was kind of weird, and she'd had bad luck with guys in trench coats - plus, all she could keep thinking about was how mad she was at Gilbert. But she decided to give trench coat man 3.0 a shot anyway.
Sadly he turned out to be totally meh. All he could talk about was himself, and Abigail found herself far more interested in the basketball game on TV than him. She didn't even like sports!
A couple weeks later, she had another date lined up with a guy named Neil. This guy seemed much more promising. He looked normal, didn't wear a trench coat, and didn't try to jump into bed with her on the first date (which is a good thing, since Abigail is still trying to get over her fundie upbringing and hasn't had the best of luck with dudes and, er, hasn't even kissed a guy yet. Shh...)
WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS.
Abigail and Neil planned to meet up for another date the following week. When he texted her to let her know he was outside, she asked him to come in, because she was going to be about another five minutes getting ready. But when he walked in the door, he was dressed like THAT.
"Um, hey Neil, what's up with the outfit?" she asked with a light laugh, trying not to show her alarm. "Are you in a play tonight or something?"
"What? Nope, 'course not. I'm taking you out on a date. This is just how I dress. Haha! I know it may seem weird, but I'm part of a plant-worshiping group and we have to dress like this to do our rituals. It's not a big deal, we just have sexual intercourse with plants to gain their leafy powers for ourselves. I was hoping you'd come to tonight's meeting with me."
Abigail kindly asked him to leave.
"Fuck you, Gilbert!" she thought to herself, as Neil walked out the door. Some misdirected anger there, I think, but okay.
Things were going much better back at the Dunkel homestead. The twins' suitors coordinated between themselves to do a... double proposal! Oh my gosh! How sweet and how neat!
Aimee Joy and Anna Grace were absolutely ecstatic. This time they both say, "YES!" Looks like there's a double wedding in the (VERY NEAR) future!
NIKE! Don't worry, Cara was alone in the privacy of her beige bedroom as she celebrated her third pregnancy. #Blessed!
Adam and Mehrissa's boys were growing up. So far little Bryson was the only one with Mama's colouring.
Bear grew up too! Good dog.
Addyson liked to escape the Dunkel homestead now and then to visit her cousins' house, where there were only six people and a dog.
Happy Birthday, Braydon! Time for a haircut, I think, little buddy.
Just as Mehrissa put Bryson down for his afternoon nap, she went into labour for the fifth time. This labour was the fastest yet, and they didn't even have a chance to call the midwife! Thankfully that baby just slid right out of her, a mere 10 pounds even, and she was back on her feet making tater tot casserole that very same night! Meet...
Brody Dunkel! Yep. It's another boy. Sorry Mehrissa - maybe next time! I mean, look on the bright side. There will definitely be a next time.
Adalyn was soooooo enjoying being a mommy. It was the most precious thing ever! As she watched her little David grow into a toddler, all she could think of was how much he looked like his daddy. Where was Hobart, anyway?
Out schmoozing, it seems. Look, the man is a DOCTOR, he has to make connections in the community. He can't be expected to sit around at home with his wife and kid all day. How else is he supposed to provide for them? And yes, he's at a disreputable establishment with GAMBLING, but that's where the work luncheon was held. He can't help that, can he?
Okay, I know this looks bad, but Dr. Amanda [mumbled last name] is European, okay? It would be the height of rudeness not to greet her with a kiss!
But it seems Hobart tried to do a little more than greet her, if you know what I mean. To her credit, she was having none of it. "Are you crazy, Hobart?" she exclaimed. "I know you're married! We're standing outside your own house, for God's sake! I'm out of here."
Hobart could only hope that this little 'misunderstanding' wouldn't get spread around town by his colleague...
Meanwhile, inside the house, Adalyn was about to welcome their second precious blessing! "Hobart! Hobart?! Where are you?!" she called.
Oh well. Adalyn was sure he'd be along to welcome his newborn daughter Daisy to the world eventually.
A few days later, Abigail was surprised to see Hobart out and about downtown, and at the sort of establishment fundies usually steered clear of. "Hobart? What're you doing here?" she asked. "Didn't Adalyn just have a baby?"
Hobart laughed her off and told her he was there for a 'work event', but she watched in consternation as he sat down to play poker with some strange women, who seemed more than a little interested in how much money a doctor of his calibre made.
Guess who? While Abigail was out and about and worrying about her brother-in-law, her "ex-boyfriend" Gilbert showed up outside her house AGAIN. Good thing she wasn't there to see him, because there might have been a throw down, and not in a sexy way.
So long for now! Hope you enjoyed today's update. Check back soon for... a Dunkel Double Wedding! And so much more. Maybe a Dunkel restraining order, too (take a hint, Gilbert)!
So yesterday in church the beginnings of a blog post began to circulate in my mind. And then yesterday evening after a day of my facebook feed blowing up due to taking a knee vs not taking a knee blah blah blah blah blah another topic started swirling in my head and so we have a combined topical blog post. Bear with me while I do a bit of rambling here.
By the way, yes, I find that often when I go to church writing related ideas start to circulate in my head. Yesterday, I got off to a grumpy start and found myself out of sorts on the way to church. I honestly wasn't into going by the time I got there but mentally wanted to check that box for the week. Sometimes God will communicate to me when I'm there through thoughts (like say ideas that spark with writing) or I really feel the music. And this week. nothing. I sat there annoyed because the light was too bright in the sanctuary. I was annoyed because, as a confessed, confirmed, promptness freak the fact that we are 2+ songs into worship and you are just now strolling into the church with your tankard of coffee and a donut or bagel grabbed off the table in the hall. And then the sermon didn't speak to me. In fact, the sermon (series on the beatitudes) at one point left me scowling at the pastor. Because apparently, it did not occur to him that not everyone in the sanctuary would know what was talked about at the weekend MEN's conference. Yeah, Dude, not everyone has a man in the family. Thanks for that. So I was left wondering if it was time to look elsewhere in town for a place to worship. This is actually why I drag my feet about joining in now. I find that it takes me a while to determine exactly what they are about.
Next Sunday is a day that I need to do some work from home for quarter end closing. If I don't the first workday is a pain. So I'm contemplating skipping church. Or hey, maybe check that other church in town out. The one that announced recently that it had voted to become a sanctuary church for immigrants. We'll see but I was left rather annoyed and I find now that I'm left pondering why I think I need to check a box for attend worship services.
Then there was the whole Flag/take a knee kerfuffle. I only this morning went public on Facebook with my opinion (of sorts) and that was to share a meme).
I was actually happy to see this since I heard this on a news program last night. Sharing here so that those who read and 'appreciate' this will have a copy.
The first time I consciously remember hearing the phrase 'take a knee' was in reference to a small group leader in our children's ministry having his group of 6th grade boys 'take a knee' together and pray. It was something his high school football team did. He attended (a generation later) the same high school in the same small town that I had gone to my senior year (we moved, long story I'll spare you). Small town America. So imagine my shock at why it is disrespectful to 'take a knee.'
There was also this profound (to me) photo from the Kansas City Star yesterday. Between the player praying on both knees and the player taking a knee with his hand over his heart I see a whole lot of disrespect there, don't you? Spoilering this one due to the size. So in the meantime I'll be unfollowing and hiding crap on social media as people outrage over stuff they don't understand (again).
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Okay, so it's not really a poem. But here is a list of everything that sucks right now. No particular order of importance.
- Five children died in a fire and people are terrible in the comments
- The largest statewide newspaper was sold to a Republican politician who just might be running for office in 2018. Everyone is terrible in the comments.
- Wildfires are not uncommon but they definitely are much worse because of human activity and policy.
- Hurricanes. I'm not linking. You already know.
- Mexico's earthquake & Trump's response. Why does he hate mexicans so much?
- Pizza Hut. It's disgusting and no one should ever eat there. Also they treat their employees terribly.
- The Bears lost. Again.
- I've gained weight. Do not tell me that it's OK. It's not OK. I need to get my butt in gear with some tough talk right now, not acceptance. I do not accept this.
- I don't know what I'm doing at my job. I have so many tasks and I'm completely overwhelmed with personal shit and work tasks and I feel horrid all the time (probably because of weight gain) and with my family situation and crippling loneliness from not being around, working out with people, and now I can't because I am too far out of shape to just hop back in to swim and spin.
- I really don't know what I'm doing at work. I can't seem to break it down to manageable tasks and instead spent the morning being depressed about the state of the union and world and possibly universe. I'm sad that this guy is dying. I remember when he was launched and thinking that I would never see any of his images.
Things that are OK.
- These cats are alive and still catting it up in a beautiful house and entertaining guests.
- I have a shiny new phone - Note 8; it's awesome.
I know I haven't updated in a while, but I hadn't had much inspiration.
HOWEVER, I thought of something recently.
Rebecca"discovers" a "new" fundie blog. This is of a fictitious family ofc. The fictitious family (Bakers) lives in a town near Rebecca. Their oldest daughter, Mary, is 22 and courting, and their youngest daughter, Emily, is seven months. The kids all have Biblical names; Emily isn't Biblical but it's a traditional name anyway (they felt 'led' to use an E name) and her middle name is Faith anyway.
Maybe Rebecca could encounter this new family sometimes? Maybe I could do a few parody blog posts about the Bakers?
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Came back last night from working at the Philly Folk Fest. Wonderful music, like minded anti-TT people, way too many lunch meat sandwiches (I worked in the performer's food tent) and lots of mud because it rained.
Now I'm back home and stuck in reality of the pits of orange hell. Woot woot.
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This fucking summer. This fucking year, really. So. My marriage, which limped along while I was super depressed because I just didn't care, is really rocky right now. I'm not sure he knows that it's total shit- I think he thinks everything is great. I mean, I finally stopped nagging him. I'm just really quiet all the time. I never ask him to do anything around the house anymore and just do it all myself. Because I'm fucking tired of having to tell a grown man, over and over and over again, that he needs to put effort into his own life outside of work. For the first time in a long time I'm thinking about the future and I'm just exhausted by the thought of however many more decades with him. I get one life and I'm not sure I want to spend it as someone's damn live-in help- there is no mystical property of a penis that prevents the owner of said genitals from cleaning the shower once in a fucking while, without being reminded six times, and without whining about it.
It all came to a head when one of his friends (who, silly me, I thought was my friend too- hahaha, no) told him that he's avoiding me on purpose (we're next door neighbors, it was getting pretty weirdly obvious) because he's got some Mike Pence flavored asshole ideas about the world. Well, the dude didn't acknowledge his own Mike Penceness, just said that he won't be alone with his friends' wives*. Like, what the fuck, dude, I'm a PERSON. I'm a PERSON. I don't BELONG to my husband, and I don't just drop my fucking pants every time I'm alone in a room with someone! As a matter of fact, the vast majority of times I have ever been alone with another human being, I was wearing my pants the whole time. The whole time!
*I'll note that this rule was clearly not in existence last year, before I lost 50 pounds.
Believe it or not I swallowed my rage (it took some serious swallowing) and did not make him eat his own mailbox. See? Agency. Choices. Not ruled by my emotions/gonads/instincts. Almost like I'm people or something.
Like, holy shit guys, I'm being treated like I'm an appliance with tits by basically all sides these days. This sucks and MANY things officially tasted better than thin feels.
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I feel the need to get this off my chest, even if nobody really reads this.
Yesterday marked the end of a chapter of my life that was open for 16 years - since I was 16 myself.
When I was 16 I met someone online. We were the same age (or so I thought - years later she admitted she was actually 6 years older than me) and had similar interests and immediately clicked as friends. In fact, it turned into more than friendship and we started a long-distance relationship. I was infatuated, in love as only a 16-year-old could be.
I vividly remember our first fight. It was around the time of my 17th birthday. We had a mutual friend who was interested in a site called Furcadia. She'd invited us both to play with her but my girlfriend wasn't interested. I decided to give it a try, though. When she found out I'd been hanging out there with our friend she was furious. I was taken aback, but I placated her and it was over.
Thus began my dealings with a person suffering from psychiatrist-diagnosed Narcissistic Personality Disorder. In the early years she broke up with me several time. Each time I was sobbing and heart broken. Each time I was told to get over it. At one stage I moved across the country to live with her. I had no car and no way of catching public transport so she promised to drive me around. Three days before my flight she dumped me. When I moved there, she refused to drive me around. My parents had to buy me a car and drive it cross country. Two months later she decided she didn't want to live there any more and broke the lease to move back home. I had to do the same.
She told me to move on because we were never getting back together. Eventually, I did.
I kept it from her, knowing that in spite of her telling me to move on she would be furious. I didn't lie about it, I just never mentioned it. I didn't really try to hide it. Enevitably she found out and the fallout was phenomenal. Eventually, we began talking again. She wanted to resume our relationship after mine ended, but after she had stranded me across the country without so much as a single apology for her actions I'd seen her true colours and could never feel the same about her. I was willing to be friends, but any love I'd felt had been crushed by the hurt I felt.
Despite not being in a relationship, she rewrote the history of mine. She accused me of being with him while I was still with her. She claimed that she'd never said to get over her and that she'd been trying to get back together with me while I was with him. None of that was true. After telling me so many times I had to get over things she'd done in the past, she never let go of my 'betrayal'.
Once I found out about the NPD I began to learn how to avoid the arguments and brush off the constant criticism. I was a bad friend, I made her wait too long when we talked online, my illness got in the way all the time, she made all the time in the world for me but I wasn't reciprocating. Somehow, amidst the constant barrage of criticism she kept hinting at us getting back together, but she wanted me to be the one to make the move.
That's when I realised - she didn't love me. I was her backup plan. When she had a better prospect she was happy to let me go, but when there was nobody else she wanted me. She took for granted that I'd wait around for her and ask to get back together and be grateful for the opportunity.
She was wrong.
A couple of years ago, I met someone new. Somebody whose love didn't come at the cost of my self worth. Someone who didn't complain about making endless sacrifices for me and ignore the sacrifices I made from then. In fact, I didn't need to make sacrifices for him at all.
It was a love different to any I've felt before, and the first time we met up I realised I couldn't imagine my life without him. Earlier this year, we got married and it was the best thing I've ever done. Naturally, I did not tell her.
I told him everything about her - how our relationship had started, the ways it had ended, and our continuing 'friendship'. I told him that she viewed us as being in a relationship even though I hadn't agreed to one. I was completely honest, and he was completely supportive. He encouraged me to disconnect with her, made me finally believe I didn't deserve the constant criticism, that even though I'd learned to deal with her and didn't rise to the bait it still negatively affected me. He didn't push. He just let me do it at my own pace.
Yesterday, I finally disconnected for good.
It was over something relatively minor in the scheme of our rocky relationship. I was going through something difficult and she was angry with me for being distracted by it because she was having problems too. I told her I was dealing with a potentially terminal illness in my family. Most people would at least offer some perfunctory sympathy. An 'I'm sorry', even if the next word was 'but'. But she didn't. She was just angry I wasn't asking about her issues.
And that's what did it.
I told her I had nothing more to say to her, and this time I truly meant it.
I know how different the story would be coming from her. I am a horrible person, a heartbreaker, cold and cruel. I am a cheater and a liar. I am not a saint and I know I've done things out of anger or hurt to lash out at her. I am not blameless. I feel genuinely sorry for what she's going through right now and it's very hard to not tell her so, but I can't get drawn back into contact. My words yesterday confirmed to her every bad thing she's ever thought about me and she will never forgive me. She'll hate me. I needed it to be that way. I wasn't cruel, at least I tried not to be. I wanted to say she was a narcissist and a hypocrite, but I didn't. I didn't get mad. I just said I could no longer be in contact - but that's all it will take. Ending things myself, on my terms - that's an unforgivable sin. I still feel guilty, despite everything. I hate hurting or upsetting anyone.
But at last, I can finally breathe.
I went tonight to the Grand Opening of my friend's bar.
It was great. Lots of people, good live music, great food -including a roast suckling pig. I reckon it cost her at least 10,000 baht - about $350. Doesn't sound a lot, but here it is. I live on about 30,000 baht a month.
There were LOTS of people there. Some were fellow bar owners, there to wish her luck - they won't be back, they have their own bars to run. Some were friends and family, who don't usually go to bars - but came to show support.
Many were what we call balloon chasers - when a bar is having a party, and giving away free food, they put balloons outside. Some people go from balloon to balloon, to avoid paying for food. I saw some come in, eat, have a glass of water or a small beer, and leave. One table had three different groups in less than 90 minutes.
And then there were some who are and will be customers. I''m just not sure there were enough of them. Out of maybe 150 people all night - I was there from shortly after it started at 7pm until nearly midnight - there were maybe 20 to 30 who will be regular customers - and they won't be there every day.
I'm her friend, and was there with some of her relatives. We'll probably go as a group about once a week. I'll go another night with other friends.
I'm just not sure it's enough to sustain her business. She has three employees, whose wages must add up to at least 40,000 baht a month. Tonight, she had four extras, because she knew it would be super busy.
I really want it to work for her, but the freeloaders tonight upset me.
So I'm feeling a bit down.
From the beginning of my pregnancy I wanted a home birth in water. I knew my son was going to be my last child, and I truly wanted that experience. Until I hit 34 weeks. March 23rd I called my primary physician & told her something didn't feel right. I had a ton of pain in my abdomen and my baby wasn't moving much. She referred me to the only OB practice in the area that takes my insurance & they basically told me "pregnancy sucks, you're fine, get over it." The weekend passes and I feel him moving less and less, but I was starting to get labor pains. I called the hospital near me & they told me 34 weeks was too early and despite my concerns, they would stop my labor and send me home.
Monday the 27th I was in labor and worried about my son. My mom took me to a different hospital to get a second opinion. They did an ultrasound and hooked myself and my son to the monitors, the on call OB determined he needed to come out because his placenta had begun to die, and he wasn't getting enough nutrients, something the OB I was referred to could've caught if they had listened to my concerns instead of brushing me off. I starten on pitocin and walked & bounced on the birth ball.
6 AM on March 28th I begged for an epidural. My first birth had been 12 hours of labor, 20 minutes of pushing, and medication free. I had wanted to do that again, but at this point after laboring 48+ hours on my own, my body was worn out. I was shaking uncontrolably and crying. After they placed it, my water broke and I knew things were going to go quickly from there. I texted my husband telling him the baby was coming within the next few hours & to try and make it. I napped off and on thanks to the epidural until I felt intense pressure and realized it was time to push.
After two pushes and 5 minutes, Woodrow-James Digger Godwin made his way into this world at 11:43 AM. He weighed 5lb10Oz & was 18.5 inches long. He was placed on my chest for a moment, and then once we realized he was wheezing and struggling to breathe, he was whisked off to NICU. My mom followed him while the nurses stitched me up. I texted my husband again "baby is here but he's in NICU"
It was 4 days before I could hold him & 7 before he came home.
He's now 5 weeks old & finally putting on weight and has adapted to life outside the womb very well.
Until recently, I foolishly assumed that since the laundry area shelves and brackets were 1.5 inch thick solid wood, that they had been properly anchored to the wall by the previous owners.
Long story short, they weren't!
They are now, and I'm extremely grateful that no one was hurt when one of the brackets holding up a fully loaded shelf pulled itself out of the wall.
Everyone, please check to make sure your shelves are secure!
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This post is brought to you by the amazing homemade ice cream at Good N Plenty and dedicated to @Mela99 .
This does not make up for my bitterness about not going to Shady Maple.
Today was........something. I'm remembering why I don't sign up for church-related things anymore. As a child, I always wanted to see a show there and I figured you're never too old for cute goats. I was slightly confused when I found out we would be seeing a production of Jonah but it ranks pretty low on the "potentially problematic" bible stories for me.
BOY WAS I WRONG.
I'll start off by saying the set design for the show was FANTASTIC. I want to hug the entire production team (especially the stage manager calling all those cues!) and feed them the baked good of their choice. The music is sung live over a pre-recorded instrumental track so there were a few timing issues but nothing that made the show unbearable.
I'm lying, there's one song where the harmonies are really grating.
Anyway, I'm sitting semi-enjoying the show, smelling too many roasted almonds, and crying over the worst $3 cup of watery iced coffee for all of act one. I shoot off a few texts to family members who I thnk would enjoy the show and settle in for act two. Now they open the show by explaining that they take some creative license with the storyline, biblical purists need not apply. Cool. I was not prepared for what was coming next.
(White) Jonah is projected out of the whale and onto.....an island full of brown natives. These are nice natives (they give him a donkey and clothes!) but they're definitely presented as an "other". Ok...slightly perturbed but we can still recover.
S/N: Being surrounded by whale stomach acid for 3 days turned Jonah's hair from brown to boyband blonde. Seriously, it's in the script.
Jonah Timberlake rides up to the gates of the city full of "evil people with no good in their hearts" who live by the motto "For the honor of Ninevah NEVER SHOW MERCY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" full of condensation general disgust. Hmm, I wonder what kind of evil no good people he'll find within the city limits?
People in shades darker than "HOA Beige" because of course brown people are ALWAYS THE PROBLEM amen.
The king and queen of Ninevah (and their brown child) are the only major speaking roles portrayed by persons of color in this entire damn show.
I'm pissed. I'm literally shaking.
The Ninevites sing songs that are more gospel than musical theatre. I just shake my head.
Honestly, don't ask me any of the finer plot points of this section because I was about 300% done by then. After Jonah's little vine dies I'm hoping they do an awkward curtain call and call it a day. Of course, you can't end the show on this wonderful (seriously, the moral is prophet or not- don't be an asshole) without having an appearance from the most important figure in American Christianity.
White Jesus™ shows up.
That's right folks! No longer relegated to the much shorter New Testament, White Jesus™ makes an appearance just in time to teach Jonah a lesson and then walk off, hair blowing in the breeze.
If I had been any closer to an exit I would have walked out. They sing one last song in true curtain call form and then White Jesus™ makes another appearance just in time for the final pose. Then they do an abbreviated altar call.
TL;DR White Jesus™ is white and colored folks are evil.
This is my approach today...I'm feeling it...Spoiler
And how will I look doing it?Spoiler
And if people (one person) doesn't appreciate my efforts perhaps he should know that...Spoiler
what should happen as the result of my epic courage?Spoiler
Why should this happen?Spoiler
If it doesn't happen?
And why not just go through with your faux engagement to @Destiny ?Spoiler
@clueliss was totally right, my brain was getting dangerously pintresty and version of me can kick no ass...I gave the cryBuffy part of my brain some icecream and told her to sit this one out.
How do I really feel?Spoiler
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I have suddenly become one of those people who constantly takes pictures of their food! I know it's not cool anymore. I feel like my FIL who struts around in a white track suit wearing sunglasses, or with his sweatshirt tucked into his jeans.
I made a mushroom melt on pumpernickel bread with a Greek cheese I can't spell, much less pronounce.
Here is my cute cat picture I promised to show. It's a dirty click bait trick. I know very few FJers can resist cutepet pictures.
It's the last full chapter YAY, so let's get this moving.
Luna status: I've been abandoned in favor of mister destiny because he has string cheese and apparently a kitten has to have her priorities. I feel so unloved. :-P
Wine: naw, just my water bottle. I might have a glass with dinner tonight to celebrate being done with this shitshow, but haven't decided yet.
New character today! George Wakefield. He's the pastor of the local Baptist church. Let's call him Pastor Confused. Artist's rendition (as usual, courtesy of @OnceUponATime):Spoiler
We are back in the fucking park. I hate this park! AUDIOS FUCKING PARK I WILL NEVER HAVE TO VISIT YOU AGAIN SOON. Nosy Busybody is chilling in the fucking park AGAIN, and Pastor Confused comes over. He wants to chat. I'm not going to bother recapping most of the conversation because it's all big words like hermeneutics (which I have personally never heard a Christian use in conversation ever) being used to compare Biblical penis size. Spoiler: I think George wins. He actually makes sense and doesn't take crap out of context. Of course, this means that Nosy Busybody is going to act like he is stupid and talk down to him. Pastor Confused basically says, "Dude, you are talking weird ass shit, and you are basing your conclusion on stories, not commands, fuck off with this stupid shit." Pastor Confused, marry me!
They go back and forth for a couple of pages, rehashing the stupid arguments of the whole book, so I'm just gonna keep turning the pages, k? I flipped through a couple of pages, and found this:Quote
George: But I haven’t trained my daughter to marry a fornicator!
Sakal: Why not? I have. I have trained my daughter the way an army trains its new recruits... for a battle, not a vacation. I have no idea what difficulties she might face in marriage: an unGodly husband, life on a mission field, barrenness, even abandonment. So my job is to train her for the worst possible scenario, the hardest possible situation.
Look at the women of Scripture, the truly Godly women in Scripture. Which of them married the perfect man and had the perfect life? Esther, who became part of a pagan king’s harem? Mary, who was always known as a fornicator? One of the many wives of David?
It seems to me that you are seeking a life for your daughter that God hasn't called her to, and rejecting God’s commands: for her and for you.
George: Those are horrible comparisons! I want my daughter to have a happy life!
Sakal: But maybe that isn’t God’s highest priority. I Corinthians 7, and I Peter 3, both speak of daughters married to unGodly men, and both show them blessing their husbands. None of us want our daughters to marry such men. We all dream of them having the perfect, fairy tale, marriage. But none of our marriages are like that. And in our quest for the perfect, we are missing not only the good, but God's commands. And it is our obedience to those commands, not the perfection of the to- be-married couple, that will lead to the ‘perfect’ marriage.
That, in a nutshell, is what is wrong with this book. I've given more than enough fucks about this misogynistic horseshit, so just imagine what I am thinking, and you probably have it about right. Sigh. They go back to fighting about the Bible and how wrong Nosy Busybody is, and OMFG there is still 6 more pages of this shit. Send help.
Asshole Plot Device and The Good Girl wander in now, hand in hand. THOSE WHORES ARE TOUCHING BEFORE MARRIAGE SOMEONE GIVE ME SOME PEARLS TO CLUTCH! For some stupid reason, Asshole Plot Device introduces The Good Girl to Pastor Confused as his WIFE. What the shit, did I miss a wedding? Oh hey, Pastor Confused said the same. I like Pastor Confused. Can we keep him?
Awww, FUCK. This shit is about to raise my blood pressure. Wait, no it isn't, cos this is THE LAST CHAPTER! :-D Asshole Plot Device is all, "oh, we aren't married yet, just betrothed" and I want to reach into the screen and slap him upside his arrogant head. Pastor Confused says he shouldn't call The Good Girl his wife if they aren't actually married yet, because it will confuse people, and Asshole Plot Device is all, "well, she's betrothed to me, so she can't back out like a fiancee could," and OMFG I HATE THIS GUY.Quote
George: No, not really. You haven’t been married, you know. Andrew: Well, I haven’t taken her home yet, but we are in covenant.
George: Oh, you mean... you mean you actually have your marriage license, and a pastor has performed a ceremony? Why then do you say you haven’t married her yet?
Andrew: No, we haven’t done any of that, we aren’t going to do any of that. But even without that we are in covenant. Her father gave her to me. [He looks lovingly at Maydyn, who grins at him and squeezes his hand.]
I guess that this answers the "do they get marriage licenses and have real weddings in this cult" question. Sigh. So, there's no protections for the women in this system, other than any common law things that might exist in the state. Let's marry a child to another child, then not have any legal protections for either of them if things go badly or something happens. Nothing can go wrong with that. At all. Separately, the wedding day is a huge day in a fundie girl's life, and what a fucker to take that one day that's all about her away. FUCK THIS GUY.
Pastor Confused, to his credit, is appalled at this state of events. He's shocked and horrified that they were forced to marry, but because this book exists to fuck over kids in this system, no one is going to listen. I hate this book but it's almost done. After The Good Girl and Asshole Plot Device wax philosophical about what a precious gift of husband / wife they were given, the chapter drops off into a hole.
Next up is an "interlude" that sounds like a courtly love sex scene. There's shit about someone looking for a garden for his friend, and uh, I'm walking away cos I can't even with the idea of a woman being called a fucking GARDEN.
This is the final "story" chapter of this shitshow:Quote
Sakal: She called you, from her honeymoon?!
Isha: [Laughing.] It wasn’t a long call, just a quick ‘thanks’. She said Andrew had stepped out to get them some food and told her to ‘rest’... which she said she couldn’t do, so she called me.
Sakal: So, did it sound like she was well on her way to 'doing good and not harm’?
Isha: She admitted that he seemed to be enjoying their honeymoon, and that they were spending an amazingly little amount of time outside.
Sakal: [Laughs] Good! Perhaps her father will get his grandchild soon!
Isha: I hope so. Speaking of children...
Oh dear. From the implication that Nosy Busybody is either getting laid or has gotten his wife pregnant, to the quotations around 'rest', to the gross speculation on a newly married couple's sex life, I'm so glad this shit is over.
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I have been rebuked by a fellow FJer for doing the cleaning post wrong. So, here's an attempt at doing it right.
Today was the day of the week where my job makes us clean the ceiling fans. My boss took the initiative, telling me I'd better get off my cell phone and do some actual work if I was interested in getting paid. I purposed in my heart that I would dust the ceiling fans.
While I went to the office to flip the switch that would turn on the fans, I thought about death. Would death be preferable to cleaning ceiling fans? If I fell off the ladder and broke my neck, did I know where I was going? What would happen if I fell of the ladder and broke my ankle? I would just have to trust in the lord that everything would be ok.
I purposed in my heart to be brave, and prayed that God would give me the courage to climb that ladder, for lo, I do not like heights.
I took the long handled dust mop, climbed the ladder, and wiped the blades with the dust mop. Since we clean our ceiling fans for Jesus every week, there wasn't much dust to begin with, and I forgot to take pictures. The before and after ones would have looked the same anyway, since everything here gets cleaned all the time.
After getting off that really high really scary ladder, I spent all the rest of the day praying for forgiveness for all my sins. Praise the Lord.
There, was that better? Sort of? I really do hate that stupid ladder, but I exaggerated exactly how much it freaks me out. Well....sort of.....
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I haven't posted because I've had a hell of a time eliminating everything I need to in order to give this experiment a fair shot, primarily chocolate. And Diet Coke.
The good news (I guess) is that I can tell now that those foods make me sick, so I have even more reason to cut them out. The GAPS Diet prescribes lots of fermented foods, so I was hoping to come up with a homemade, fizzy, fermented drink to replace the soda, like fermented lemonade or beet kvass, but I haven't had much luck with that. Here is the Jinger (heehee) bug that I starved to death.
And an attempt at an apple cranberry kvass that went moldy on day three, so I refuse to continue with it. Some sources say to remove the mold and keep going, but that's just too squicky for me.
So I've been eating a lot of homemade chicken soup with sour cream or yogurt stirred in, and I like it. It makes me feel healthy and like I'm taking good care of myself. I got an Instant Pot for Christmas so I plan on trying to make my own yogurt soon.
Has anyone had good results with small batch fermenting at home?
I've recently been playing around with watercolors a lot (mostly because I wanted to paint something nice for my bestie for her birthday) and I just kinda wanted to show off some of the things I've done recently. So this post now exists.
Most of these are from my #drawweirdaleveryday project (which I gave up for a long while but am now doing again) but the cat is my friend's cat Khéops. I painted that for her birthday.
I've got one more I could show, but it's not quite done (it's also meant to be a surprise yet and its recipient hasn't seen it yet).
12 hours ago, SapphireSlytherin said:
I've read that children typically look like their fathers until about age 2, and that it goes back to "caveman days" so the fathers could recognize their own children when they were all living communally.
I don't remember the source, but it was pre-Internet, so it must have been true. LOL
That doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, because I don't think cavemen had a great idea of what their own faces looked like. There weren't mirrors - just water for reflection.
I am literally a carbon copy of my mom, but neither of us saw the resemblance until we found a picture of her in her 20s and thought it was me.
I've also been told I look like the actress who plays Pam Beesley in the Office, which is the best compliment I've ever gotten in.
10 hours ago, Rachel333 said:
I'm from a tall family and we have lots of stories like that of people assuming kids in my family were a lot older than they really were.
For example, I once got whistled at by a lifeguard for playing on a pool toy that was supposed to be only for kids 12 and under. I was 9 and really upset because I was a scrupulous rule follower and had never been whistled at before.
People are honestly shocked when we tell them how old Velocibaby is because she’s so big now - 32 inches and 24.5 pounds at her one year appointment, which is pretty big for a girl that age. I fully anticipate dealing with assholes who think it’s cool to judge a kid having a tantrum in public without knowing their actual age.
Oh my god, people!
A co worker has a relative in Glen Oak Tower, where this moron lives, and they're trying to get him out. He's (the relative) mentally impaired and they think he got manipulated into living there and, well, it's a whole long story that I think is far too familiar for anyone with mentally impaired, homeless relatives.
Anyway, she shared a bunch of info about it and one of her examples was Rus's FB page (another is that bat shit crazy John dude a bunch of people were talking about here a few months ago. Who, by the way, appears to have left and is now fully homeless again). But, whatever. That's not the point.
The world is small and I feel all kinds of sick that Rus entered my circle. It's distant, and in no way direct, but to be reading the FB group page of this co-work and see him....I had a moment where I didn't know where I was because there are certain worlds that should never, ever collide.
And, just because I saw it, the moron spells warehouse 'wharehouse'. I laughed out loud, for real, because it's so typical of the pig.
12 hours ago, SapphireSlytherin said:
I've read that children typically look like their fathers until about age 2, and that it goes back to "caveman days" so the fathers could recognize their own children when they were all living communally.
I don't remember the source, but it was pre-Internet, so it must have been true. LOL
That doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, because I don't think cavemen had a great idea of what their own faces looked like. There weren't mirrors - just water for reflection.Edited by YourGodIsNotMine