#Disaster quiche

[dumpsterfirekitchen]

did you know you can make quiche out of whatever the fuck you want

well now you do and that's what I did today. see quiche is literally just an egg custard thing with some stuff in it in a crust when you get right down to it so when I get down to the ends of lots of ingredients sometimes I will put that shit in a quiche. I dont care if it's fancy and perfect I care that it's edible and uses up the shit in my fridge. Or in this case also on my balcony :)

Lets take a look at the crap I have to use up by today

we've got this thimble full of milk

Got some grated parmesan bc I grated too much for a thing I made the other day

got some dried mushrooms and ooooo

FRESHLY WASHED PORCH SPINACH FROM MY PORCH

you can turn this stuff into a decent fritatta tbh but I was feeling quiche mood

Here's what I do kinda, and I'm all about making it work without buying extra things

First soak the mushrooms in cold water for like an hour if they're dried like mine. The package says 5-10 minutes and whoever wrote that is out of their fucking mind and is telling you nothing but lies and if you don't soak them longer you'll regret it

I have little mini casserole thingies I use for quiche so I don't need much crust. And that's good bc I had about a thimble full of crisco too.

(but that's OK bc between you and me you can add a little bit of butter in a pinch to make up for what you lack in shortening and like you'll notice a little with the texture but not enough to care)

So this here (BTW my oven is preheating to 350 off in the background)

This is a couple tablespoons of butter and crisco and maybe half a cup of flour and a pinch of salt and I chopped it all together with a fork until it was the cornmeal texture you see. I generally know I added the right amount of fat when I can sort of smoosh it together as shown without water. But you do wanna add cold water.

Im at a high altitude so my water measurements will be useless to most people I think but basically you just need to add it by the tablespoon until the dough comes together in a ball. It shouldn't be a sticky ball but you don't want it dry either and don't like Knead it you don't want it stretchy. (If you're at a high altitude like me, DO actually make it a little extra wet to where it's sticky. You'll thank me later when you're not eating a crispy brick.) Roll it out to an 8th inch, then slice it up and piece it together in whatever [GREASED, DONT FORGET GREASED] dish you want to bake in. Then pop it in the oven for like 10-15 minutes. It should be juuuuust baked but not like Crunchy.

Anyway while that's happening I make the filling.

Do you want to know my secret

My secret is that this is the one time I will use a measuring cup.

I crack a normal large egg into my 1/3 cup and then add milk to it until its full

"but ej shouldn't you use a liquid measuring cup" SILENCE JUST BE GLAD I OWN A MEASURING CUP FOOL

dump it in your mixing bowl and then do that for 3 more eggs (well, your amount of eggs will vary. I think it's like 6 for an 8 inch pie dish. But see you know whats great about this method? If you didn't mix up enough eggs, that's ok! Crack another one in the 1/3 cup, add milk and a pinch of salt and pepper and mix it up and add it in) add a pinch of salt and pepper for each and whisk it all together till it's kinda homogenous.

Heres a picture of my next step which is layering the goodies

someone is going to tell me I should be using Swiss cheese I. DO. NOT. CARE. I hate Swiss cheese and these are for me I do what I want and this is fine and good. The dark supervillain secret that cooking shows don't want you to know is you can put whatever the fuck hard cheese you want. You can literally make the egg mixture and put whatever. Do you have some green onions and bacon and leftover terrible prepackaged cheddar? Put that shit in a quiche. Do you have a lunch meat and a couple slices of cheese that would pair well in a lunchable? Put that shit in a quiche. It's not traditional. It's not correct. Who fucking cares you're the one eating it. You gotta use that shit up so make it fun don't just put it in a sandwich man cmon. (I mean you can but)

Anyway if you're making a more traditional quiche you'd also add nutmeg to the egg mixture, but obviously I'm not doing that, so I skip that step.

Anyway next you ladle the egg mixture into the dish(es)

I put mine in a hot water bath but you probably don't have to do that, it just helps cook it evenly.

And check out the result

Nice and edible. ( It's not ugly you fool it's RUSTIC)

For me this took I think 25-30 min in the oven (which I left on from the crust....I tend to reduce the temp and cook longer though. In this case I reduced it to 230 and turned it off after 25 min or so. Basically when it reaches 165. I don't know if that's right and I don't care 165 kills the germs so I'm not doing it below that. You can take it out after and let it set up after that)

anyway that's what I ate today and the best thing about these is I can wrap them up and keep them in the freezer. Quiche freezes really well actually. You won't really notice a difference especially if you heat it up in the oven or an air fryer later, so I like to make a bunch of these guys ahead and just pull them out as needed.

[charmwasjess]

I think this is actually my worst impulse as a writer, not any kind of good advice for storycraft, but I’m compulsively nosy about my characters.

I want to know what they had for breakfast, and if they liked it. I want to know what they’re wearing. I want to know all their daily routines, what time they get up, what time they go to bed. I want to go through their shower supplies and their medicine cabinets and see what’s hidden at the back of their underwear drawer. I want to know what weird stuff they jerk off to. I want to download their entire search history for the last month and analyze the raw data.   

[pinkbowsandprettyprose]

Tokyo Mew Mew New - Megamoru Party~ ♡ English Translation

Download link here!

—

Synopsis (translated from the official website):

“It’s Akasaka’s birthday — let’s celebrate together! All of the Mews gather together for a party.

We try to make a cake to surprise Akasaka, but it’s a disaster! How else can we make Akasaka happy?

We all try to come up with more ideas, but we keep coming up with all kinds of weird suggestions.

Then, Kish, Pie and Tart somehow break into the café…

What’s going to become of Akasaka’s birthday party?!”

Translation notes:

I’m using the same romanization as the TMMN team does, so “Quiche” -> “Kish” and “Pudding/Bu-Ling” -> “Purin”.

I am omitting Japanese colloquialisms like “-san”, “-chan” or “onee-sama”.

This script was simpler to translate than the Cat!! Super Party script and about half the length. It also has less characters, as Masaya and Ryou are not in the performance.

I hope you love reading this as much as I did translating it! Feel free to download and share, but please link back to this post and credit me for the work.

[bisexualbard-writes]

@kimchaybrainrot!! You had a birthday!! sorry it’s a day late BUT I have some soft kimchay headcanons JUST FOR YOU! 

When Chay starts staying at Kim’s place, when he wakes up in the morning he says “I’m hungry what’s for breakfast” and this sends Kim spiraling down through guilt memories. He decides then that he’s never going to ever ask Chay to make them breakfast. 

The problem is he wants to have a nice quiet morning at home cuddling with Chay, but he doesn't keep a lot of food on hand. He usually just grabs a protein bar on his way out the door and orders in for his other meals. So for that first day he orders them coffee and pastries from the cafe down the street, but any breakfast food more substantial than pastries always arrives cold so this isn’t a great long term solution. 

BUT fear not, Kim is a PROBLEM SOLVER. He decides he’s going to learn how to cook breakfast for Chay so that they can spend the mornings cuddling in their pajamas AS IT OUGHT TO BE. 

The problem is, he’s never so much as cracked an egg before. When Chay isn’t around (because gosh, Kim isn’t going to let Chay see him fucking up miserably when they JUST got back together) Kim gets a carton of eggs practices cracking them open and frying them. He’s not a disaster, he has to know how to have a delicate touch for both music and murder, but he still gets some eggshell in the pan and the yolk runs everywhere so he ends up with scrambled eggs. On his second attempt the eggs are burnt on the bottom and raw on the top. On this third attempt he gets it fully cooked, but then the egg is FULLY COOKED and not at all runny in the middle the way chay likes. 

That’s when he realizes okay, huh, this cooking thing might be a bit more of a skill than he anticipated. 

But he is COMMITTED to not CORRUPTING their newly flourishing relationship with BREAKFAST SINS. 

So he cracks his knuckles and loads youtube and gets to work. As it turns out, he has a lot to learn. He’s pretty good at knife skills already, but it turns out there’s a whole different kind of technique to chopping up an onion than there is to twirling a switchblade. And he learned enough chemistry to know what common bathroom cleaners he can weaponize and turn into harmful gaseous clouds, but the chemistry of just making some bread is a whole different level of complex. 

He still orders in breakfast for him and Chay while he’s learning and just deals with slightly cold delivery for now, because he’s not going to serve anything but the BEST for his boy. 

On the morning he finally feels ready, he slips out of bed early and gets cracking. When Chay finally wanders out he’s a little grumpy he didn’t wake up with his cuddle buddy, but then he’s quickly stunned by the feast in front of him. There are pans of sausages and bacon, and crepes loaded with freshly made whipped cream and fruit, and multiple types of freshly squeezes fruit juice, and then Kim is pulling a quiche out of the oven. 

Chay says something like “good morning P’Kim and also what in the world is happening?” and Kim responds “good morning my love I made you breakfast?” 

Chay gapes, and Kim realizes he might have gone a little overboard, but then Chay is kissing him and hoisting him onto the counter because Chay is overwhelmed with so much love, but Kim has to stop him because “i love you chay but I am NOT eating another cold and and soggy breakfast.” 

All the food is delicious and delightful - Chay would have been perfectly happy with a stack of pancakes to be honest, but the big spread of food is super awesome and Chay knows without Kim having to say it that this is another way of helping them move on from their turbulent start, so he extra appreciates all the effort. 

Kim watches Chay eat carefully and glows a little more with each compliment and when they’re done eating Chay pulls him back into the bedroom for more kisses and cuddles and a nap to sleep off all the food. 

( And then later Chay will show kim exactly how appreciative he is by bending him over the kitchen counter and fucking him slowly and thoroughly until kim is begging. ) 

From then on Kim makes them breakfast while Chay sits on the kitchen island still looking rumpled in his pajamas and demanding kisses whenever Kim passes him to use the sink. Kim loves it and despairs because sometimes they get a little too distracted and Kim burns things, but it always makes Chay happy, so its a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

[witch-of-the-creek]

Fascinating flora #1.

Dandelions

I’m going to start with my favorite. Every time I talk to someone about dandelions, they bring up a different facet of why this plant is amazing.

Their flowers support pollinators- dandelions have wide flat flowers with the pollen close to the outside. This means they can be pollinated by just about any pollinator species. Their leaves do an especially good job of supporting caterpillars before they pupate.

They’re a diuretic, and may be helpful to passing kidney stones.

They have so many nutrients. So many. Calcium, iron, potassium, vitamins a and c. Their flowers have antioxidant properties, the whole plant has anti inflammatory effects.

They may be bitter, but add a rich flavor profile when baked into a quiche or seared into a sauce along with spinach, or cooked in a stir fry. If you enjoy the bitterness, that’s valid, but if you don’t, there’s many ways to cook parts of this plant. The flowers are more sweet. Every single part of the plant is edible save for the seeds, and there’s so many recipes that can be found from herbalists, cooks, green witches, and really anyone who likes to cook with plants.

Their roots act like drills and break apart hard soil for other plants to grow. They bring up valuable resources from deep in the sediment, such as calcium, iron, and magnesium.

They reduce erosion- their roots can go down to fifteen feet. They’re pioneer plants, among the first to move in after a disaster such as a fire or flood.

Now, for the witchy parts.

Consuming this plant is not just healthy and nutritious, it raises your intuition, and aids in divination. The plant itself is frequently connected to divination.

The puffs are said to grant a wish if you blow on them and release the seeds.

Their flowers are a huge sun correspondence, their deep roots are a good representation of earth, and the seeds are connected to air and spirit.

Their roots are also a symbol of protection, good to carry with you or place on a windowsill.

Sources-

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

Miami Vice S1E17: Rites of Passage

Tubbs' old flame Valerie arrives in Miami hoping to find her sister.

At the beginning of the episode, when Zito and Switek are failing to fix the bug van, Tubbs suggests it's possessed and then laughs like the fucking Crypt Keeper, and it is absolutely delightful

Sonny looks like a kicked puppy when Rico wanders over to see Pam Grier

There's a lot going on with the reunion between Val and Tubbs. He's clearly thrilled to see her, but her initial reaction is doubtful at best and actively distressed at worst-- she's not interested in whatever he's selling. When they go for a walk together, he is immediately very familiar and frankly somewhat possessive-- he asks her why she didn't call him when she's been in Miami for 2 weeks, and when she starts to explain he just doubles down on the questioning.

It's an interesting facet of his personality-- he's both very quick to assume a level of relationship seriousness with anyone he likes, and also incredibly pollyanna about being able to fix any problem in that relationship-- often to the point of both ignoring the other person's feelings and the reality of their situation. Tubbs is often framed as the "reasonable" one between himself and Crockett, but like... let's be serious, that's only because Crockett is a sad wet disaster man. Tubbs is also a huge fucking mess, especially when it comes to romance.

Sonny asks Val if "Tubbs abandoned her" and when she laughs and says no he asks "so when's your flight." He's not jealous or anything.

Gina, interestingly, bristles a little at Val in the handful of scenes they share together, but it's really not clear why.

There's a shopping-and-cocaine sequence with Val's little sister Diane set to Change Your Ways by Rockwell that is just spectacular-- it's beautifully shot, wonderfully choreographed, and just so, so cheerfully, bleakly ominous. It's a really classic bit of Vice cinematography, the kind that has been misremembered as empty MTV glitz but is in practice a quick, gutting image poem. "Well, have you considered the price of the life you want to live?" indeed.

John Turturro is in this one as a sleazebag pimp; we see his nipples

The scene where Tubbs and Crockett make stupid jokes about the nouveau riche and quiche kills me, because it's a perfect example of how they are truly only funny to each other

Sonny puts an entire sandwich in a woman's drink at a party while she is not looking.

Rico tells Val she could stay with him. Could she, Rico? Could she?? You 100% live in your car, baby, you are the only member of Vice Squad whose home we never see

The second "music video" sequence in this episode is set to I Wanna Know What Love Is by Foreigner; we watch Val and Tubbs have slightly-less-operatic-than-usual-for-Tubbs sex, and Diane gets murdered. Is it a little on the nose? Yes, absolutely. However, there's minor off-and-on distortions in the music-- little hiccups, like a warped record skipping-- that elevate it from borderline-didactic to genuinely creepy. From Tubbs' (and maybe-- but probably not-- Val's) perspective, the lyrics play themselves straight. From Diane's perspective, they become a prophecy-- Foreigner signs of love, "I better read between the lines In case I need it when I'm older;" Diane, too trusting, never gets the chance. We see Sonny, too, realizing he has to be the one to break the news-- that it's also a form of love to be willing to tell someone the truth even when it's going to hurt them.

(If you subscribe to the idea that it finally dawned on him in the previous episode that he cares a little more than he ought to for Rico-- well, it tracks with all his reactions throughout this one.)

When Val goes to leave, Sonny's first question is "is there anyone meeting you at Kennedy?" because despite everything, at his core Sonny is kind

Val does not return Rico's little kissy gesture : (

So how the hell does Sonny get Val out of the uh, y'know, the whole. Murder charges thing. She implies in the next episode she appears in that he "pulled some strings," but like. What strings, James Sonny Crockett? What strings did you pull that got Valerie "I 100% Shot This Guy In Cold Blood, Cuff Me Boys" Gordon out of prison???

Very smooth, though, getting your boyfriend's girlfriend out of jail. Smooth like your damn brain, Sonny

[freakingoutthesquares]

Cocker Lips Now! Words: Johnny Dee, Photographer: Derek Ridgers Taken from the New Musical Express, 4 December 1993 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

He's raw sex in hipsters, he's old enough to know better and he's out to make his strange suburban madness a household brand. Johnny Dee braves the shoddiest TV show in the world to bring you Pulp - and the gospel according to Jarvis Cocker.

Pulp singer Jarvis Cocker, a man with the deadpan attitude of Alan Bennett and the raw sexuality of Barry White, doesn't like the idea of Virtual Reality. He doesn't like it at all. "I don't want to sound like an old guffer," he apologises, "but a dose of reality would be better for most people interested in Virtual Reality. I mean, most people would be freaked out if you went round and, you know gagged 'em, drugged 'em or something, stuck them in the boot of a car and dumped them in the middle of a field in North Yorkshire. That would freak most people out more than having some headset on."

The Pulp members - Russell (guitar/violin), Steve (bass), Candida (keyboards), Nick (drums) - are used to such typical Jarvis pronouncements, all delivered with a sanguine matter-of-factness. Jarvis is forever calm and unflustered, a man who'd refuse to panic if his arse was on fire. But this time he's gone too far.

"Bloody hell, Jarvis," says Russell, wrapped up in a tight pale blue PVC jacket that matches his eye shadow. "Well," says Jarvis Cocker. "You'd take the gag off afterwards."

Who needs Virtual Reality anyway? Close your eyes and imagine an endless, white corridor. Here, years ago, a perm-haired kids TV presenter called Mick Robertson crouched on his knees at the end of a row of coins denoting the success of the latest Magpie charity appeal. At the end of the corridor is Room 101 - Pulp's dressing room for the night. We are in TV world...

Well, we're in Teddington Lock, Middlesex for the filming of The Word in a TV centre that feels like a maximum security Holiday Inn. Since fellow guests Onyx have received several death threats throughout the day, there are uniformed men resembling Viz comic parkies stationed at the end of each hallway. On every wall there are unnervingly huge colour pictures of celebrities - Eric Morecambe, Cilia Black, Judith Chalmers. The Magpie appeals no longer worm their way around the maze of studios, but in the canteen, Rory Bremner is tucking into quiche and chips.

In Room 101 Pulp siphon Smirnoff into a Highland Spring bottle to beat the draconian on-set alcohol ban. They've been here since 11am: drinking, having their shirts ironed (since guests get their clothes pressed for free, they've all bought along a week's washing) and make-up done and arguing about "the gap".

Their new single 'Lip Gloss' has a two-second break in the middle, which The Word's people maintain isn't on the record (it is) and are worried that the audience will think it's the end of the song and start clapping like chimps (they do). "The gap" becomes an incredibly significant Pulp moment. If they agree to cut it out they'll be compromising. So Sheffield's finest popmongers decide to make the gap longer. Much longer.

It's been a long day spent in stardom's waiting room, but little things have made it worthwhile. Drummer Nick, for instance, overheard Dani Behr call someone "a f***in' c***". Russell saw a raincoated man bent over and struggling with a heavy box in the gents' loo. He opened the door for him and the man flashed a cheesy grin. "It was Des O'Connor! Des O' flippin' Connor!"

It's now 9pm and Pulp are on stage for the last dress rehearsal. It feels more than just a rehearsal for a sensationalist TV show; it feels like a rehearsal for stardom itself. Pulp have been together with various line-ups for ten years now through punk, new romance, C86 and grunge - always defiantly different.

They've survived disasters: Jarvis once being confined to a wheelchair after he jumped from a window to impress a girl; Fire Records putting their third album on hold for two years during legal wrangles. And they've coped with personality crises, too: Russell going through a disciplinary dictator phase, when Pulp ran to a strict regimented timetable; ex-drummer Magnus leaving the band and going barmy after deciding he was the moon... But over the past two years each successive single has been better and sold more than the last, and their audience has got bigger and younger. Now, incredibly, they're on a major label, their records are available in Woolworths, they're on daytime radio and on TV.

Huge day-glo shapes hang from the ceiling as they perform 'Lip Gloss' to a barren studio, Jarvis snaking across the stage in too-tight, thick, purple corduroy trousers, shaping hand movements not witnessed since Alvin Stardust rolled his ringladen fingers for the Pops' cameras. The only people here to witness this are skivvies fussing around with clip-boards, and the dancers - looking like clichéd Freemans catalogue versions of teenagers - who are paid to show off. As Jarvis sings of lipstick-stained fags and being chucked, these young bucks, with bare, greased-up torsos vogue over-enthusiastically on podiums. Half-naked 18-year-olds pretending to rave and having a fake wild time is bizarre enough but then so are Pulp. The camera cuts from Jarvis in karate mode to someone's bum cheek escaping from a pair of midget Homme pants and then back again to bassist Steve, desperately trying not to laugh.

The lovers portrayed in 'Lip Gloss' are worlds away from this forced environment of The Word. Like many Pulp songs, 'Lip Gloss' celebrates the strangeness of the ordinary and stretches a subject so mundane no-one's dared sing about it before. In this case, being pissed off after you've been chucked because you wasted time getting to know his/her mates who you never liked in the first place.

"I've got a bit of a hang-up about songs and films presenting an idealised version of things," explains Jarvis. "It makes people dissatisfied with their own lot in life. But it's something that never existed, it's just been made up by someone. Yes, we do glamorise the everyday but, you know, a bus journey can be exciting. You can treat it just like a journey and sit there like a plank or you can wonder what other people on the bus do with their lives."

Read any article about Pulp and at least three, if not all of these things will be mentioned alongside "the 'w' word" (wacky) or "the 'k' word" (kitsch). Perhaps all the detritus and trash that's associated with Pulp has masked something fantastic. Maybe Pulp really are going to be pop stars. At 11.35pm on Friday night, watching the TV set in room 101, Pulp's manager, Geoff Travis - who was previously the boss of Rough Trade - is sure of it. Tonight is a turning point, Pulp are contenders.

Do Pulp really want fame or are they content to carry on as nearly-made-it confectionery for the talking classes? Is siphoning vodka into water bottles, moaning about "gaps", getting your clothes ironed for free the behaviour of pop stars or forever sixth-form underachievers?

"Oh, we want to be famous," claims Jarvis. "It's what we've always wanted." But do you honestly believe you can appeal to 15-year-old girls? "I'm always trying. We want to appeal to everyone. I'd like to think we're not only trying to appeal to students and grocers. You can't choose who buys your record - it's in a shop, it could be murderers or bakers. But, we've been going so long it's not like we expect to get to Number One or anything."

It could happen, Pulp could really become stars. They'll never be on the cover of teen magazines, flashing torsos or sporting exotic hairstyles they're too old for all that. But it could be fun - Jarvis on What's Up, Doc? corrupting the nation's youth with dark tales of urban normality. Yet... why do they want to go through it, why do they want fame? Jarvis smiles and puffs on an Embassy regal.

[zarya-zaryanitsa]

Tagged by @windvexer

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to know better!

Relationship status: I have a long term partner. We’ll get married when we find the money and the energy to organize our ideal wedding. Might take a few more years honestly.

Favorite colour: Blue

Song stuck in head: Ferrari by James Hype and Miggy Dela Rosa

Last song I listened to: Queen of Disaster by Lana del Rey

Three favorite foods: Quiche with spinach and smoked pork belly. Salmon in lemon-butter sauce. Uszka in barszcz.

Last thing I googled: pictures of smoked pork belly because trying to translate boczek wędzony to English always feels a bit weird. I need reassurance people will be thinking of the right thing when I say it.

Dream trip: I want to go back to Istanbul, this time with my love.

Anything I want right now: For my makeup to take off itself.

Tagging: @drakonovisny @orisnitsa @vigilantsycamore @slaviclore @hare-beneath-pine @friend-crow if you guys feel like it

[dakotaibrahim]

Guatemala Receives Global Assistance to Address Wildfires

News accounts of fires burning across the highlands of Guatemala appeared in the international press. By May 2024, data reported that these fires had spread across approximately 157.5 square miles (40,802 hectares) of land. The international community responded through Central American Bank for Economic Integration (CABEI) funding, among other measures, to assist Guatemalans.

The government recorded 2,363 fires throughout the country. Beginning in February 2024, fires burned across the Guatemalan forested landscape in Siete Orejas, a volcano that has not erupted for thousands of years. Another raging wildfire broke out at the Agua Volcano, again destroying hundreds of acres of forests surrounding the volcano. Other areas the fires impacted were Huehuetenango, Quiche, Sacatepéquez, Sololá, Suchitepéquez, Totonicapán, El Progreso, Baja Verapaz, Alta Verapaz, Chimaltenango, and Zacapa.

Wildfire season in Guatemala typically lasts three months, beginning in February. Researchers have yet to know why these fires break out throughout the country. However, some believe that the root causes are related to farmers clearing the land to grow new crops. Because rainfall decreases during the dry season, these fires spread into the forests to become great conflagrations. An April 2024 AP News report stated that 80 percent of the forest fires that spread this season stemmed from farmers clearing the land.

By April 2024, President Bernardo Arevalo declared a natural disaster after forest fires climbed to 44. Wildfires cleared the land, damaging the plants and animals in these areas. Further, the fires in Siete Orejas destroyed plant species native to the area, including the "pinabete" commonly called the Guatemalan fir. It affected these natural ecosystems, and authorities in three of the country's central provinces canceled classes after smoke covered the area. One of the largest fires was near a suburb of Guatemala City.

In response to these fires, which have caused the president to make this declaration, the international community is offering its assistance through funding and manpower. In April 2024, the Central American Bank for Economic Integration (CABEI) provided the Guatemalan government with $78,848 to assist with helping the country during this emergency, more specifically to help them devise solutions that might control the spread of these fires. By this time, the alert code had been orange, signaling the phenomenon had reached crisis levels. The situation had become so critical after winds and topographical conditions exacerbated the problem.

In June 2024, CABEI added another $100,000 to the funding in April, increasing the total to $178,848. With the support of the United Nations Development Program, the Guatemalan government will use this funding to implement aerial firefighting strategies and other measures to contain the spread of these fires and minimize fire impact on communities. Guatemala is one of CABEI's founding countries, which is one reason the organization has given its support in the country's time of need. In 2024, the Guatemalan National Coordination for Disaster Reduction (CONRED) deployed land and air operations to fight, contain, and stop the spread of wildfires to safeguard natural resources.

Finally, before this year's wildfire season, the US and Guatemalan governments joined forces to prepare for natural disasters, including wildfires. In June 2022, US Agency Joint Task Force-Bravo, CONRED, and representatives from the Guatemalan military trained to prepare for crises like this year's wildfires. On June 8-9, the three groups held exercises to prepare for humanitarian and disaster relief events. While the exercise focused on weather-related events, CONRED used some of this training to galvanize departmental governments, municipalities, and community organizations to deal with wildfires. During the June 2022 training, CONRED teams faced different situations that might impact the outcome of a scenario. They also discussed lessons from past emergencies, which became helpful during the 2024 wildfire season.

[traipseartist]

The dregs of October 11th, October 12th - Paris, Rome, Naples, Bed

After bon vivanting around Paris, Aneyn was kind enough to take me out for another round of drinks and dinner--this time a little closer to home. We trekked to a bar or two in the Marais hopeful but pragmatic about the nature of Paris on a Friday night and eventually settled in at a place called The Cambridge Club (truly adorable coming from my Oxford-grad host). The vibe was perfectly gloomy and the drinks fabulously twee.

Then after flirting with the blonde, beach-haired server, we paid our dues and made our way to a new spot called Piccote.

We ordered with eyes to functional dishes and received some unique takes on certain French classics. I am still wishing I could summon our cheese course back into existence. Then, sleepy eyed from the week, wandered home, sneaking some mango and chocolate ice cream from a late night spot that sold empanadas (?) on our way back.

Back in Aneyn's flat, I mentally prepared myself for the early morning tomorrow, repacked my suitcase, and watched Aneyn's stockinged feet bob along to a Beatles' song while hanging off the side of a loveseat huddled in a corner of her studio. She read me the history of Grace O'Malley (lady pirate, Irish, general bad-ass) and her piratical career. I am thankful to have good friends after all this time and after all.

I am sometimes reluctant to count travel days because the airport, especially, eats my soul. (I promise, one day, I will post a long and unoriginal kvetch about airports. I am currently fighting that impulse.) But I don't think you get to traverse three major cities in a day and write it off, so I report in despite this being a hobby I do for fun.

I took the metro to O'rly after bidding Aneyn and her lovely Parisian flat adieu. I decided at some point in the packing process to only pack a duffle (that has straps to easily wear it as a backpack) and an incidentally matching backpack (which I wear on my front like a nervous tourist or that weird kid you went to middle school with) because in my experience navigating airports and the metro with wheeled luggage--especially subway systems that existed before escalators were common--is harrowing. It also has the added bonus of giving a mobility that people with rolly-bags do not have. I am almost always able to rush down the stairs to catch a train. I always make it through passport control first. I can snake down stairwells while everyone waits cow-eyed for the elevator. Usually it's worth the cost of carrying literally everything I'm traveling with for X days on my back. But sometimes...

Well, let's just say Europe was definitely built for skinny people and tiny bags. And not the wonky, lateral disaster that is Marisa the Mobile-Luggage-Sandwich.

But we hobbled through security, ate airport quiche (that had no right to be of the quality it was), nodded off on an easyJet full of giggling French humans sneaking away for the weekend, and loped through FCO on a mission to meet Rose, who had landed about an hour earlier from her 12 hour slingshot via SFO.

We needed to be in Naples by 2100, and it was only 1430... How much of Rome could we squeeze in?

Turns out... Some!

We scuttled to Roma Termini via the airport's train hub and (for a small fee) left our bags with very audible humans who urged us on. From there we bumbled across the touristic landscape, locking eyes with old buildings--famous and unfamous.

Rose and I chatter about recent life events while stepping around slow moving tourists and tiny merchants trying to hawk everything from external batteries to tiny, water-spitting fans. Catching up, we wove our way to an early dinner at Osteria Da Fortuna.

The energy inside the little restaurant was minorly riotous. Humans slipping in and out and by and through. The menu was too long for a place that had a woman hand cranking penne by the host stand... You were getting the pasta--why else were you here?

I had a glass of rosé rosato that made me mourn America and after some deep breathing (to fit in more pasta) we slipped out and bolted back to the train station to meet our insistent Neopolitan Airbnb host that was getting increasingly nervous that he didn't have a solid arrival time from us yet.

We bought tickets for the next train (accidentally for the following Saturday... Oops), pulled our luggage back from the jaws of the bagliagi deposito, and waddled with earnest fury to the platform that would send us at breakneck speeds hundreds of kilometers south to Napoli.

After a little confusion we hopped from Garibaldi station down to the local metro and bobbed and weaved around teenagers, small barking dogs, and the dark mysteries of late-night Naples. Winding our way through the Centro Antico like rats in a maze, we dove out of the way of speeding Vespas and ducked under hanging laundry in the tight and high-walled streets of the ancient city.

Our host, tired of waiting to hand us keys, sent a cryptic video of the path to his Nona's house from the front gate of our rented apartment and I sat whistling a tune while Rose disappeared to go negotiate with a non-English speaking grandmother.

After sleuthing to figure out which of the dozens of units was ours off of the main courtyard, we whispered to four separate locking mechanisms. Climbing up another flight and a half of stairs and into beds firm enough to put bounced change in ceiling plaster, we beelined it for bed.

Tomorrow, Napoli in daylight. Capri from the water.

[voidswithinvoids]

Part V: The Wedding

On the morning of the wedding, Fiona woke up with back pain. She sat up in bed and expelled fiery breath out into the fresh morning air that was slipped through an open window. The weight of the days tasks felt heavy on her chest. Her bridesmaids were likely on their way to her house right now. She needed to shower and clean up the house a bit before everyone got here. There were special breakfasts to be made. Pancakes with homemade blueberry jam. Pour over coffees and bite sized quiches. Only the best for such a special day.

What if they were late? What if Beth forgot to bring the gluten-free pancake mix? So much to do and everything had to be done right. Why spend all of this money and then invite everyone, just to witness a disaster? She had gained a reputation for her organization, her drive. She was a girl boss, independent, a take-no-shit from anyone, badass. She could handle a wedding. She could handle the stress. It might make her happy. She hoped it would make her happy.

She couldn’t seem to remember if the dishes were done yesterday. Knowing Vic, she doubted he had even thought about cleaning anything before he left with his groomsmen late last night. She had been with him long enough to expect less. It was easier that way, she would be let down less that way. Add more to her plate was Vic’s favourite pass time. Marking down “dishes to be cleaned” to her mental checklist, she swung her feet out of bed and felt that stabbing back pain once more.

The engagement period had lasted longer than she was promised. Before Vic had proposed, he had said they’d be married within the year. It had been well over a year. Getting rescheduled over and over and she was always left getting her hopes up. For what? It was always something else with Vic. He always had a thing. A reason or an excuse for not doing the simplest of tasks. Obviously there was room for flexibility, but a woman had to wonder if she was really sought after when this man kept putting off the same damn things. Did he not understand how many men, and she knew this for a fact, would kill to be where he was. He lacked so much self awareness, it was infuriating sometimes.

The hot water was burning her skin a bit at this point. She had let her mind wander more than usual. Perhaps it was a luxury she thought could be afford to her on such a special day. Unfortunately, time refused to slow for her, unlike the way it always did for Vic. She turned the shower off and felt that stabbing pain as she reached for her towel. She heard the doorbell chime and thought about old wedding bells and the way her guests would throw rice up in the air in just a handful of hours and thought perhaps she wasn’t quite ready.

What was strange to Fiona about Vic was that he was more of the romantic out of the two of them. He had planned out elaborate dates and seemed really intentional in the beginning of their relationship. Where had that gone? That spontaneousness. The energy from their first kiss. Why on earth did it seem like marrying her was the worst thing in the world now? All she saw of Vic was his sadness. He had become a blob of complaints and tears. It drove her crazy when she would say one little thing and he would collapse into himself. More often she would compare him to Danny. She would say to herself, “Even though Danny was a jerk, at least he had the balls to fight back when someone challenged him.” For Fiona, Vic’s emotions were alarmingly unnatural. She was all for men being sensitive, but Vic was nearly insufferable.

Her hand stalled on the front door for a moment before opening it. She took a deep breath. Reminded herself to smile. It was her wedding day. She should be happy. She told herself to be happy. And after repeating her mantra twice, she greeted Beth with an over the top scream of excitement.

The two of them made their way through the house and Fiona began to cringe with the heighten awareness one gets when hosting a guest. She noticed pairs of dirty socks that were shoved between the couch cushions. A frozen pizza box the dog must have pulled from the recycling pile and now looked like wet shredded cardboard. Two beer cans were knocked over on the tv stand with a small waterfall spilling from one on to the hardwood. It smelt of boys. Boys who did not care about whose house this was. Boys who did not know how to be clean and tidy. Boys who slap each other in spells of violence and knock over precious vases and lamps. Boys who apparently hated her and knew every which way to disrespect her on her wedding day.

She saw Beth noting all the little messes even while maintaining a polite composure. Fiona thought of how pristine Beth kept her house the last time she was there. Lavender scented candles and perfectly displayed fruit bowls. It was like visiting the museum of perfect living. Of course Beth’s partner actually cleaned up and was capable of simple adult tasks. Vic was apparently still a child. She wanted to explain to Beth that it wasn’t her fault. That she usually kept the space so clean and everything had just gotten so busy with the wedding. Her face was hot with embarrassment, searching for words that would remove the overwhelming humiliation.

“Ugh, I know. The house is a mess. I went to bed early yesterday night and Vic had his groomsmen over. I think maybe they got drunk or something and.. I don’t know. They are disgusting. Honestly, Vic should have known better. When he’s around his friends it’s like no one else matters. Suddenly it’s all about whatever is going to make people like him. He can be such a pushover sometimes. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s honestly inexcusable that he’s now subjected you to this mess. Trust me, we’re going to have a long talk about this later, I don’t care that it was the night before-“

Fiona trailed off as she stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. A horrific scene unfolded. One might have thought an actual natural disaster had occurred and was miraculously encapsulated so perfectly within those four walls. Or perhaps it would be more helpful if one were to imagine the way animated films pan around a messy kitchen with unfathomable amounts of dishes towering from the counters. Each dish covered in dark sludge and teetering with terrible imbalance. It doesn’t really matter how bad the kitchen actually looked. All that mattered was how it broke Fiona on the morning of her wedding day.

The day moved on as it needed to. The sun rode its hot chariot through the sky and pinks turned to peach and peach turned to wondrous sky blues. Breakfast was made and small fruits were picked at by cheap plastic forks and many of them were thrown away in waste. Hair was washed and curled and the make up artist arrived 20 minutes late because of traffic. Time still moved and puffy white clouds began to form around the chariots usual route. The car ride over was filled with stress about catering and what Fiona’s mom might say about her dress.

It seemed to her the day never got better. She took pictures with her wedding party and smiled when the camera was pointed at her. It was her special day. If she let it all get to her today of all days… no. That couldn’t happen. She shoved it down and repeated her mantra. She practiced over and over her cheerful smile. She couldn’t remember smiling feeling so miserable. And every photo had her wincing from that stabbing back pain.

It frustrated her that she wasn’t happy. She had been to friends’ weddings and the bride always had this glow. That wonderful glow that felt like love. True love. The kind of bullshit that Vic wrote about in letters to her. Why did they get that glow and not her? Did she not deserve it? Did she not do enough? Weddings are suppose to be happy. Why was she so miserable.

The photographer had asked for the bride and groom to exchange vows privately in an old barn. They had said it made for good photos and would be cute as a first look. When Fiona had told Vic about this plan he pointed out how neither of them had ever stepped foot in a barn before and that it felt inauthentic. It was a minor fight, and Vic quickly apologized as usual. Why did he always need to make things difficult for her?

Fiona stood as a silhouette in the open square of the barn. She clenched the folded letter in her fist waiting for the photographer to send her in. She had one of those rare moments one gets during their wedding where you find yourself all alone in a big fluffy dress in front of farming tools, wet hay, and rotting wood. The scene felt bizarre to her. The wedding felt bizarre. Why was she doing this? Who was it all for? It certainly was not for her. Was it for Vic? She thought about the tradition of marriage. Was she giving herself to be his eternal possession? Was she giving herself away? Perhaps a wedding is much like a funeral, the last day a woman holds for her self. Nothing going forward would ever be for her ever again. Was it all over? Her life? Her dreams? It was ending in complete and utter anticlimactic misery.

No, it wasn’t just for Vic. It was for her mom. Her mom who believed so deeply that she would end up all alone with no one. As if there was nothing worse in this life than being single. How much happiness had she really experienced with any of the men she’d been with. Sure, Vic cared about her and had sweet words for her. But most of those words felt empty. And god, he couldn’t even clean up after himself. He left that disgusting kitchen in spite of her. Or perhaps worse was his incompetence. This wedding was not for her. Of course, that’s why she was miserable. But some epiphanies come too late. It had already begun. There was no reality where she was ready to face the embarrassment of canceling her wedding with guests already finding their seats. No. She would have to go through with it for now. But she vowed in that moment to not truly give away herself. She would keep her self and hold on to her so close. She would love and embrace the parts of her that others found broken. Her wedding would not be her end.

A signal was made and those papery vows were spoken with golden light streaming through the crumbling roof. Vic looked nervous. He was dressed in a heavy suit and his tie looked a bit rustled with multiple frustrated attempts. Tears wet the cursive markings he had written for her and she spoke with the pain of promising beautiful things that could never be.

The wedding ceremony commenced and finished within twenty or so minutes. The afterward reception was busy and frantic. Things went wrong and Fiona fixed them. Vic enjoyed himself and drank and looked dumbly in love in every photograph taken. His face showed the kind of love that wasn’t rooted in anything but romance itself. Intoxicated by the lovely words and alluring sways of the first dance. Speeches were made by both Julian and Leo. Vic sat with his face buried in his hands shaking with tears at the beauty of their words. He had a look of found affirmation that warmed his worn out heart. Beth sang a song that left Fiona with a beautiful sorrow dangling within her chest.

And time still moved and moved and never relented until the sun found its final destination of the day behind the dark purple hills in the west. People danced and smiled and laughed and took photos with them and gave bad marriage advice and asked about children. And then it was over. That great big day. That dream from childhood of white dresses and pink cakes. It was all done and Fiona watched as family and friends packed up folding tables and decorations were taken down. She hugged her aunts and uncles and gave airplane rides to her niece who said she looked liked the princess from the movie Frozen.

And then it was quiet again. A whole day had happened and now it was over. An empty bed sat waiting in that quiet dark room. Hotel bleached for newly weds on their wedding night. She did not pause at the hotel door handle like she had done in the morning. Her mantra had failed her. She felt so tired and broken. She needed to get out of the wedding dress. If she could only get out of the dress perhaps she would see that her self was, in fact, still intact underneath. That she was just playing wedding day like she did when she was a kid, and now it was time for bed and the costumes needed to be hung up to be played with some other time.

She ran the shower for the second time that day. As she stepped in she heard Vic bumping the walls with their luggage. He grumbled something about a wheel getting stuck and then tossed the bags in the corner. She heard him collapse onto the bed. Only then did it dawn on her that it was the wedding night. The night when man and woman had sex. Consummated the marriage. But how could she? She had made empty promises today. Perhaps he fell asleep on that bed and the whole thing would be avoided. Would she really be expected to have sex with him? What a disgusting expectation.

“I suppose men get off on fucking their new gained possession..” she muttered to herself as the water burnt her skin once again.

She quietly opened the shower door and wrapped herself tightly in a towel. Her face in the mirror looked puffy. The hot water had made her cheeks rosy and she thought about how red Vic’s cheeks were that first bus ride years ago. A flicker of warmth pulsed in her for only a moment as she moved into the bedroom.

She turned the corner to find Vic still awake. His wedding clothes were thrown off and scattered across the floor. He was there waiting for her. He was smiling. He was excited. It looked like he was likely naked under all those blankets. He just kept smiling with those twinkling blue eyes. And then he moved his hand towards the night table lamp and shut off the light.

Fiona waited in that darkness for a long time. She stood there and watched Vic’s dark figure sit up in the bed waiting. No one said anything. And then she moved towards her side of the bed and laid down on top of the blanket. And in this darkness they lay. She stared at the little red light that beamed from the smoke detector. It was so beady and perfectly distracting. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it. So she kept watching it as she began to speak.

“You left a mess for me this morning.” She said with an empty voice. “You left a huge fucking mess. It embarrassed me. Beth didn’t know what to say. She thinks I could have done so much better than you. You treat me like shit. You make me feel like I don’t deserve to be taken care of. To be treated with the care that I give you. I don’t understand. I do so much for you. Why can’t you just do the same for me. It’s always the same problems. It’s always the same fight with you. I keep asking you to do better and you never do. You just cry and cry and apologize and cry some more. It’s pathetic really. It’s shameful. You should be ashamed. You know that right? I put so much work into this day and you didn’t think twice about maybe just keeping the house clean for me on a once in a lifetime special day like my wedding day. Jesus fucking Christ, Vic!”

Her voice grew more venomous as she spoke. A mountain of pain that was stored up within her was now being released in a fury.

“You don’t love me. This is not what love is. If you loved me you would do better. You would want to marry me. I think maybe you loved me once but no, not anymore. You love the idea of me. You’re scared of being alone. You don’t love me. It was all a trick and now we’re married. You thought if we got married then you’d never have to be alone? You’re a coward. You always have been. You’re no man. You’re some non person that does non activities and has no friends. Why the fuck did we get married? Can you tell me? Why did we get married?”

And in that darkness the two of them lay together on their wedding bed without consummating the marriage. The moon light peeked behind the thick hotel curtains and hummed its pale blue glow into the corners of the room. And there was weeping. Terrible breathless crying. But it was not from Vic. It was Fiona who cried that night. She cried for hours. It sounded staggered and painful, and she rocked herself as she cried. Her back ached with twisted knots that pierced with every movement. When Vic eventually moved himself in that darkness to comfort her, Fiona shoved him away violently. She began to mutter to herself, “I will not lose myself. I will not lose myself. I will not lose..my.. self..”

[catgirlmagneto]

quiche finished despite the disaster!

[pinkbowsandprettyprose]

Cat!!してSuperParty Official Script // English Translation

As performed by the cast of Tokyo Mew Mew New~♡ on Feb. 26, 2023

Summary (from the official page):

Café Mew Mew is throwing an anniversary party at a popular new undersea restaurant! Shirogane leaves the party planning to the five excited Mew Mews. Ichigo is planning an exhibit on Red Data Animals with the help of Aoyama. Kish overhears their plans, and sets up a plan for infiltrating the party with Pie and Tart. Then, on the day of the party … disaster strikes! Can the Mew Mews and the rest of the crew entertain the guests while keeping everyone safe?!

Download the PDF of my translation here!

A couple translation notes:

I’m using the same romanization that the Japanese team working on TMMN uses to translate character names (ie. “Quiche” is “Kish” and “Bu-Ling/Pudding” is “Purin”)

Unfortunately I was unable to completely translate the riddle at the end — I’ve denoted where the riddle is left improperly translated, but it shouldn’t affect your ability to understand the answer or the story at all.

On the same topic, this translation is not going to be perfect. This was a lot of work (5,400 words, phew!) and I’m doing my absolute best as a non-Japanese-speaker with the tools and awesome people around me helping me with this project — so please be kind if I misread a word or two. 😖 if you’d like to check my translation, I also uploaded photos of all pages of the original booklet here.

This story was a JOY to translate, and I hope you love reading it as much as I did! 💕

[firstprince-ao3feed]

3/4ths Cup of Love

3/4ths Cup of Love https://ift.tt/pmSu43f by inexplicablymine “What the fuck are you doing with my pinto beans?” “It says I need them for pie weights.” “Hell no, baby, sweetheart. Over my dead body are you using the beans I use for mole for your quiche recipe. I would like us to eat these.” “Hey!” “If you put my beans in the oven, I will make it so you can’t possibly ever put a bun in the oven.” “Noted.” Or, The ups and downs of Henry learning how to perfect his quiche recipe. Words: 3966, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 5 of 12 Fic's of Giftmas Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Established Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Gay Disaster Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Likes Baking, even if he is bad at it, Henry Learns How to Bake, Quiches, Ina Garten References, There is a real recipe in this, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor is So Whipped, His Poor Quiche is Whipped Too, things get steamy, Implied Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Dirty Talk, They are so in love your honor, Orgasms, Food as a Metaphor for Love, POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Fluff and Smut, No Angst, Cute, Like I Can Not Emphasize Enough How Cute This Is, Happy Ending via AO3 works tagged 'Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor' https://ift.tt/gZoHKnh January 06, 2024 at 10:10AM

[appleforone]

thinking abt how i’m going to bombard this acc with as many food posts as possible when i’m home for christmas. borscht, gruyère quiche, kolacki, pumpkin pie, certainly some kind of butternut squash disaster, beautiful wintery porridges, etc., etc……

[chronoflow]

Julienne Fillet, 5-Star Chef

The scallops were overdone. The souffles collapsed. The chocolate pudding was chalky. There were thumbprints in the dusting on the mousse plates. Soggy bottoms on the quiches. Not enough sprouts for everyone. There was that… smell, and she still didn’t know what the source of it was. The waiter spilled the chowder all over the floor. There were rude customers, no-shows, health code violations… This was one for the record books.

This night was a disaster. The kind that ruins a career. No one could be allowed to remember it. The decision was easy.