#Lisa Wende

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Of Awakening by The Circle (AOP Records)

Germany’s symphonic black/doom metal band, The Circle, return with their second full length album titled Of Awakening, due for release on the 18th of August via AOP Records. Risen from the ruins, created by the fierce tides, The Circle hails you to the realm of the blackened sun with the upcoming full-length concept album entitled “Of Awakening”. With their second creation, the 3-piece founded in…

[labyrinth-guard]

Ms paint Faith :D

[queenofbaws]

Okay Lisa inspired me to send song lyrics so here is one of the songs I’ve been listening to on loop this week

Your childlike eyes

And your distant smile

I’ll never be this happy again

You and I and no one else

(No One Else from Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812)

It was hardly the first time the question had bobbed its way to the surface of their conversation as they took the wending trail through the woods, but now, stopped as they were with Abi’s sketchpad on her lap and the sun setting in deep oranges and reds around them, Nick knew there wasn’t any getting around it.

“I guess...I don’t really know what I’m doing next,” he admitted, looking out across the vista one last time before easing himself onto the log beside her, squinting his eyes against the sun’s sleepy rays, “other than school, I guess, but even then, I haven’t really...thought too much about that.”

Without looking up from her drawing, Abi hummed a soft note and asked, “Hey, you’ll figure it out - lots of people start out undecided, you know?”

“Yeah,” was all the answer he could think of at first, a little more distracted by the way her eyebrows had scrunched together and a tiny sliver of her tongue had poked out in concentration than the thought of his future, “maybe I should take Jacob’s advice, huh, major in partying with a minor in being a total studmuffin.”

At that, Abi’s concentration broke, and he might’ve felt bad for that had he not loved the sound of her laugh so much; “That is...awful advice - ” she managed to get out through giggles, trying and failing to get back to her drawing, “ - but whatever you do decide on...maybe I could come visit sometime, for, y’know, pep talks like this?”

“I’d like that,” he said, suddenly wondering whether it was the sun or something else entirely warming his face like that, “I think I’d like that a whole lot, actually.”

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[gunnarsohn]

Effektive Wirtschaftspolitik: Mehr als nur Sozialpolitik für Unternehmen #Digitalgipfel #SchubkraftTV

“Es ist Zeit für einen Wandel”, schreibt Lisa Nienhaus, Redakteurin der Süddeutschen Zeitung, in einem Kommentar zum Wirtschaftsgipfel in Berlin. Sie fordert ein Ende der wahllosen Subventionen und betont, dass eine effektive Wirtschaftspolitik nicht gleichzusetzen ist mit Sozialpolitik für Unternehmen. “Wenn Deutschland das endlich beherzigt, gelingt auch die grüne Wende”, prognostiziert…

[kpforpresident]

Since we're talking angst, 3. Bonus points if you mix it with 28 😈

3- goodbye, 28- a lie

Well, as we all know, I’m a hoe for bonus points. I twisted this one a lil, hope you’ll still love me :) 

//

The muted beeping of the monitor quietly provided the background noise to the sterile white room, the heavy sting of antiseptic making Lexa’s nose tingle and her eyes burn. Muted voices hovered outside of the room, fading quietly into the stilted somber mood that hung around them heavily. On a shiny metal pole beside the table, a heavy bag of Lactated Ringer’s slouched, the drip drip drip of fluids wending their way slowly through the clear plastic tubing. 

Lexa stifled a small, sad, sigh as she once again wiped her teary eyes on her sweater sleeve, squeezing Clarke’s hand tighter to try and provide some semblance of comfort. 

A sob broke out of Clarke at the motion, tears pouring from her as she turned to Lexa, a sad little hiccup following. 

“I’m, I’m, so sorry, Lexa,” she cried, her huge wet eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Lexa slung an arm around her, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline as she struggled to breathe through the massive hole that had been punched in her chest a few hours ago. She had been crying since Lexa had sprinted home from work upon receiving the unexpected afternoon call, picking up during a lull in her caseload to hear a completely hysterical Clarke on the other end of the line, sobbing repeated I’m so sorry on a loop. Panicked, Lexa had tried to wring an answer out of her girlfriend as gently, urgently, as possible. 

“F-fish got out through the f-front d-d-door when I was taking in groceries,” the high pitched voice had said on the other end of the phone that Lexa gripped in white-tipped fingers, the panic making Clarke sound almost unrecognizable. “Lexa, someone hit him in their car, they didn’t even stop, we are headed to the vet now, but please please come-” 

Lexa had already hung up as she was bolting out the door of her law firm, throwing some excuse at her fellow associate as she ran out into the street to fetch the first cab she could. 

She had owned Fish since before she had met Clarke, a high school graduation gift from her sister and her father. She had cried so hard she almost choked when they presented the wriggly, good-smelling bundle to her the night of her ceremony. The eight pound golden lab had licked every inch of her salt-coated face that he could reach as his tail wagged madly. 

Lexa had named him after the aquatic animal, much to Anya’s dismay. She refused to hear Lexa’s logic that he did look like a goldfish with his orange-yellow coat that shimmered in the light. Fish had squirmed in joy, and that was that. 

At seven years old, he had been slowing down recently, their routine Brooklyn morning pre-work jogs more leisurely walks. But Fish had been there with Lexa when she had moved to New York alone, had been the velvety ears that she had petted nervously before picking Clarke up on their first date, had pranced happily with her in her postage-stamp sized kitchen when Lexa ran home, victorious after she had first kissed Clarke in Central Park. He had moved with them into her new apartment, as much a fixture of their lives together as anything could be. Clarke had loved him almost as long as Lexa had. 

Lexa had selfishly, secretly hoped that he would be in their wedding someday, decked out in a bowtie, tail wagging so hard that the flowers bowed in his wake. 

Lexa furiously swiped away another stream of tears as she sank to her knees in front of her boy, sedated from the cocktail of drugs the vet had pumped into them to buy them time to say goodbye. 

“Hi, baby,” she croaked softly, burying her shaking hands in his blood-matted fur. The vet hadn’t offered any treatment options when Lexa had burst into the room to see Clarke sitting with her face buried in his fur, shoulders shaking. Dr. Lisa had bowed out with a sad smile on her face, telling them they could take as much time as they needed, they would keep Fish calm and pain-free for as long as they needed. They had draped a white sheet over his lower half, gently telling Lexa it was best if she didn’t see the extent of the damage. Lexa had trembled as she nodded quietly, hands clasped in front of her. 

Lexa wanted to scream that she simply needed more time, that this wasn’t meant to be how they said goodbye. She had pictured it in a far-off, fuzzy sort of way, when he was old, gray spattering his sweet face. A picnic in his favorite park, as many hamburgers as she could convince Clarke to let her give him. A sunlit patch in their living room as they said goodbye. 

Not in a sterile, white vet room, Clarke crying quietly beside her. Lexa tried to stifle another sob as Fish’s tail wagged weakly, whites of his eyes rolling as he tried to follow Lexa’s voice. 

“It’s ok, baby,” she soothed, nodding at the vet tech that had popped her head through the door, clear syringe in her hand. “It’s going to be ok, everything is going to be fine.” 

Clarke pressed against her side, quiet as she dropped her head to Lexa’s shoulder, sniffing quietly.  The vet tech came in and quickly, gently, cleaned the hub of his IV port, pressing the liquid through. She pulled out the IV after fluidly, wrapping a blue stretch wrap around his left paw. Lexa pressed one last kiss to Fish’s now-peaceful face, now shaking uncontrollably. 

“Bye, my sweet boy,” she whispered, trailing her hand along his ribcage as his breathing slowed, and then stopped. 

Clarke and Lexa sat in that little room for close to an hour, crying and talking about their favorite memories of Fish, an occasional watery laugh breaking through on a recount of some of his naughtier antics. Eventually, Lexa stood, offering a hand to Clarke, who slipped her cold fingers into Lexa’s. 

They shared a sweet, sad kiss as they slipped out the door, pausing again for a moment as Lexa tucked his collar into her pocket. 

Lexa pressed one more kiss to Clarke’s quivering lips as they turned to trudge home, snow now falling thickly through the air. She slung an arm around Clarke’s shoulders, tugging in a bitterly cold breath as tiny snowflakes dappled her flushed cheeks. 

“It’s ok, love. It wasn’t your fault.”

[heliads]

Hi, Lisa. Could I ask for a drabble either for Davey Jacobs from Newsies or Reggie Peters from JATP? You can do It for whatever you think would fit me better I am Nela , she/her and I come from Spain. I am calm, even shy at first.But once you know me I am very talkative, brave and kind. I am the oldest of a big family, so since a young age I learned that I have to be responsable and caring. I am the kind of person who always stays quiet. But, when you mess up with my friends or I see something unfair I am very passionate and not afraid to stand up for what I believe in. I can't live without music and I love story telling, reading and writing. Sorry for any mistakes english is not my first language. I adore your stories Nela 💜

no problem, i hope you enjoy!

There’s an altercation happening outside the Lodging House again.

Honestly, Davey Jacobs doesn’t know what he expected. Ever since the success of the strike, Jack got it into his head that they should have meetings with all the New York newsies more frequently. This great gathering has only been going on for a few days now, but tempers are already wearing thin.

Case in point:  as Davey wends his way through the throngs of people, he can hear shouting rising above the ranks again. He can hear whispers as he goes, so he’s able to pick up at least some of it for some much needed background information. Apparently, one of the Brooklyn kids tried to insult the younger Manhattan kids, and someone’s going off on them right now for it.

Davey turns a corner and is confronted with the sight at last. There’s the Brooklyn newsie, looking exceedingly uncomfortable and more chastened than Davey was expecting, and there, delivering the lecture is–

Y/N L/N?

Davey feels as if he’s been rooted to the floor by the force of his surprise. He knows Y/N, has had the pleasure of knowing her for quite some time. That’s why Davey has known Y/N to be calm and quiet, nothing like this. They’ve talked about homework and what they’re reading in the papes, and he would never, ever expect her to be so furious and loud right now.

In all honesty, it’s amazing to watch. Burning with the force of her indignation, Y/N’s reminding the Brooklyn kid of all the ways that the Manhattan newsies are way better than he could ever be. Davey’s heart skips a beat once, twice, too many times to count.

A voice by his side makes him startle. “You know, of all the moments for you to realize that you were crushing on Y/N, I didn’t expect it to be this one.”

Davey stares at Crutchie, who’s materialized out of the crowd by his side. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Davey says hastily, although he’s not sure that either of them believe it.

“Of course you don’t,” Crutchie says comfortingly, “If I were you, though, I’d get to asking her out sooner than later.”

The other boy claps Davey on the shoulder before heading out once again. Davey is left to his own staring, this time with a stunning revelation before him. Does he really love Y/N? On second thought, when she finishes yelling at the Brooklyn newsie and turns to Davey with a smile, he knows it for sure:  yes, he is, and yes, he’s going to do something about it right now.

[simuran]

Iron Widow spoilers!

I absolutely adore the description of Wende's death

I feel every nuance of her last emotions like a silk cord slipping through my hand, the end coming rapidly in sight, yet I can’t hold on.

She is terrified. Of me. She regrets everything that led her to this moment. She wants nothing more than to get away from me forever.

She gets her wish.

Dear gods, this hurts so much!

But it also felt somewhat refreshing? Idk, I totally expected something like “even in her last moments she saw the best in me” a la Lisa Tepes from Castlevania or Padme from Star Wars. Seeing a main character’s dead love interest full of fury and disappointment in him in her last moments was something so new for me! Maybe I should read better books haha

[maryellencarter]

So the final cause, if I recall my Aristotle (I was terrible at Aristotelian logic, or at least at what the badly illustrated homeschool textbook said was Aristotelian logic), was that my apartment has been growing irregularly more squalorous for months. Occasionally I would have a bout of energy and put my groceries in the pantry, but for the most part I've been doing well to keep up on the laundry. The proximal cause was... probably the coloring books.

Anyway, this morning I put on pants that were not sweatpants, probably for the first time in months, because going to get vaccinated is a festal occasion and one ought to look one's best. (I put on my cute top with the frilly shoulder straps and the little rosettes, too, since I figured it'd be smart to wear something sleeveless. And my combat boots with the pastel tiedye laces, in case of hiking, which also turned out to be smart. I was decked out.)

So then I went and showed a number of people my ID and my appointment email, and they poked me with a timy needle -- not as small as the one they used in the ER for the insulin that time, I didn't even feel that one, but a very nice thin needle compared to my usual standard of needles, which are the ones they use to try and get blood *out* of you, and often fail when you are me. Then they made me sit down for fifteen minutes in case I took an allergy, and then they gave me a lollipop (I got blue cotton candy, my favorite flavor) and a sticker with a hashtag on it and I left.

Then I got to wend my way back from the place where the vaccinations were happening -- it was a big event on the college campus, since they have a lot of nice big rooms and wide open spaces there -- and it happened I was coming back from a direction I do not usually wend my way from, and I dropped into Michaels. Usually I go to Joann's, because they have fabric, which Michaels doesn't, and Michaels is generally a bit froofier in the sorts of craft supplies they stock at least locally, but the Michaels and the Joann's are right across the street from each other, and I still haven't heard anything about my special order on the floss color that Joann's was out of. Michaels doesn't have the full range of DMC colors, but I took a look and they did in fact have the color I needed.

Then I wandered around some, because Michaels actually does have a bigger yarn selection than Joann's, and I found some Patons Kroy (my absolute favorite sock yarn for feel and texture) in a colorway I didn't loathe, which is *not* something I've been able to find since they stopped making that one colorway with all the orange and black and gray stripes, which I loved dearly and can't remember the name of. So I was like "this will be just the thing for that one lace scarf I was looking at that needs wool yarn in case it has to be blocked to look right", because knitted lace is like that and you can't block acrylic. You can "kill" acrylic but that's different and I'd rather not.

Um. Anyway. Then I wandered around some more, because I get into Michaels so seldom that it's handy to look at what-all they've got while I'm there. Over the past... week or so I have had a sudden bout of wanting to color in coloring books, because that happens to me sometimes; there was an impulse trip to the Walmart way out in the boondocks on the unlit road for Crayola colored pencils, because I decided I was not going to pay eight times as much for Prismacolors.

(The really infuriating thing about coloring books, in my opinion, is that right now you can either find the kiddie newsprint coloring books which are with us always, of course, or you can find "adult coloring books" which are *in-fucking-variably* filled with horses and lions and whales and other large charismatic mammals covered in what look for all the world like quilting patterns. If I wanted to color a rendition of a quilt filled with tiny stripes and polka dots, I'd get some graph paper! And the dots and lines and so forth are so tiny that you can *only* color them with colored pencils, because that's Adulty.)

(Yes, I know they sell coloring pages on Etsy and places. I've been avoiding the print shop for at least a month and a half now, when if I would put the things on my thumb drive and go to it, I could start getting my student loans out of default. I would never wind up printing coloring pages off of Etsy. No, I don't know why. Print shops scare me, perhaps slightly worse than post offices.)

Um. Where was I? So I had gone way far out to the Walmart nobody goes to which therefore often has interesting things in stock, and I had discovered that Crayola still does the glitter crayons I had coveted as a tiny, and they also make double-ended scented markers, which are like the coolest thing ever to the tiny early-nineties child I still am in my heart. So as of this morning, my kitchen counter was completely covered with... things. There was already the sewing machine and the Dr Pepper that doesn't taste like an old shoe, and the peanut butter and the elephant-shaped porcelain wax-warmer, but there had been a narrow slot where I could put a plate and eat my meals -- my only table having been co-opted a year ago by my workstation. Now that slot was filled with various Crayola products and a coloring book with mermaids in it, which at least had a few pages that could be colored partly with markers or crayons, instead of being entirely minced into geometric shapes barely larger than a pencil lead.

SO, what happened after I got vaccinated and found yarn and floss, is that I found out that Crayola still makes the *pearlescent* crayons I coveted even more as a kid. I had gotten one in a little sample pack included with my big 64-box, and it was very precious to me. It's long gone now, of course.

So of course then I bought the pearlescent crayons, and then I bitched at Leia for a while about how I didn't have any coloring books I could use these wonderful crayons *on* unless I wanted to go back to the Lisa Frank newsprint of my youth. (They did actually have Lisa Frank. I strongly considered it. But my tastes have evolved beyond newsprint.)

Then I googled some things, and I found Walmart listing a Crayola mandala coloring book. I went to look for it, and I didn't find it, but I did find a different coloring book with "stained glass" style pictures (sadly not on actual tracing paper, but it occurs to me that if I could source some tracing paper, which it further occurs to me that I haven't seen in years although admittedly I haven't been looking, that I could *trace them* and color them and tape them on my windows like the tacky '90s kid I am), which GLORY HALLELUJAH has spaces big enough to fucking color in!

...Michaels also had neon and metallic Crayola crayons. I might go back. They were 24-packs of each. The single silver and gold crayons from my mom's 64-pack were pretty much only used for Easter eggs in our house, so as not to use them up. I just -- I have a wealth beyond imagining of special effect crayons and markers available to me, and I'm struggling to find anywhere to use them. This seems backwards.

So anyway, then I also found a cute sundress big enough to go over my ass, and then I sat in the furniture section for a while and pondered buying a new table so I wouldn't have to keep stacking coloring books on top of the peanut butter jar in order to eat, and it occurred to me that if I took down my Christmas tree, which I've had up since the Before Times (having gotten it from in fact the same Walmart east of anywhere after all the rest in town were sold out of the particular model), then I would have a space along the back of the kitchen counter where I could hypothetically put a table.

So, because I am a sensible and moderate individual, I bought a thing of string to tie up the Christmas tree branches with, and did not buy a table yet. Then it was time for D&D, so I hurried home and put my vaccination card on the fridge and got into the voice chat and started taking down the Christmas tree.

Then it was five hours later, and I had started konmari-ing the whole apartment in order to have somewhere to store the Christmas tree, and I had discovered that my closet shelf was almost entirely full of empty cardboard boxes, so I had pulled all those out and rifled through them to make sure they didn't contain anything important, and after rescuing three cards from a friend and one glasses chamois, I stuffed most of the boxes in a trash bag, jammed the condensed Christmas tree and all the winter blankets and my air mattress and various other wintry things into the giant box my office chair came in, managed to get that giant box up onto the closet shelf (I have some soreness around my injection site but I honestly don't know if it's a side effect of the vaccination or a pulled muscle from wiggling a very large heavy box into a very tight space over my head), and moved the Goodwill oddities into a midsize box that I think I brought my workstation home in, but they just moved the remaining onsite agents into a much smaller room so I don't think I'm going to be asked to bring my workstation back for a while, and when I do go to bring it back I think the monitors will fit nicely in my washtub.

(I'm giving Goodwill my crockpot. After I forgot the garbanzos in it for three days until the chicken broth started to stink, I decided I am not a person who needs to own a crockpot. Also something like eight skeins of rather ugly yarn because I bought too much for the baby blankets I was making.)

(I'm not sure why I own a washtub. It's bright blue and plastic. It does have a use, which is to hand-wash my weighted blanket in occasionally, as of course you can't put twenty-odd pounds of glass baubles in a washing machine.)

(I certainly did make some life choices that led me here, did I not.)

Annnnyway, so now I have an almost empty three-drawer Rubbermaid dresser, an entirely empty and extremely large Rubbermaid tote (I'm pretty sure I could trap myself in there, but I haven't tried), a mostly empty square ottoman which is also a storage box, and a royal shitton of tiny things like office supplies and party favors that don't *go* anywhere.

"A place for everything" is the really hard part, you know. I achieved it once. Then I moved out of that apartment and have never achieved it again. Once things *have* places, then even if you don't have the spoons to put the peanut butter jar back in the pantry right *now*, you know it has a spot between the Hormel and the Chef Boyardee, and it's way easier than "oh god if I open the pantry there won't be any room and I'll wind up putting the peanut butter under the bathroom sink with the Johnnie Walker Black or maybe over the kitchen sink on top of the Thermacare back wraps."

(You're supposed to store whisky upright in a cool dark place, okay. None of the upper cabinet shelves are tall enough, so I could have put it either directly over the water heater or directly next to the oven. Instead it lurks behind the toilet paper, next to the Clorox wipes and the pre-pandemic Lush bath bomb, which I should... probably use at some point.)

Erm. So then I was pondering what-all storage I would need to source in order to begin having places in which to put things, *findable* places which is the real grail, and -- I think I took a pause to read Dreamwidth and someone linked me a plushie trilobite, okay. I haven't yet entirely decided whether to buy it, but it occurred to me that I definitely have no home for a plushie trilobite, any more than for the amazing Zaeed plushie currently trapped under my cross stitching or the Star Wars Build-a-Bear who was supposed to make Ewok noises until three weeks of freeze-thaw cycle in a malfunctioning package locker did for his electronic squeaker, or the poor American Girl doll languishing inside the ottoman.

So then I was like "we used to have that little net corner hammock for stuffed animals when I was a kid, we never could get it mounted right, but perhaps with fewer cooks that would be a good option". So I googled for one, and all I could find was an assortment of JUMBO five-or-six-foot-long double-deep toy hammocks, obviously necessary to keep your child from drowning in the flood of stuffed animals that have taken over beds in the past thirty years.

(Okay, I was pretty toy-deprived as a kid, the 1980s were not in general what you would call a time of less stuff in American households. Still. I have a twin bed. I can hardly even *find* a toy hammock that wouldn't be bigger than my bed in some dimension.)

So then, it being the aforementioned five hours later with a lot of D&D combined with hard physical labor in the middle, I said to myself, said I, "Hammocks are made out of net, and nets are made out of strings." And by god, if there is one thing I'm better at than another, it is making things out of string. I've never actually gotten around to trying out the whole process of making an actual fisherman's net, which is much more closely related to tatting than to knitting, but I have yarn and most of the possible knitting or crocheting supplies I would need to invent things.

Which, at long last, explains why I have paused to write this halfway through creating a triangular filet crochet toy hammock out of sparkly yellow yarn.

Joann's is having a 50% off sale on plastic storage whatsits tomorrow, but I think I'll probably spend a large part of the day putting office supplies into ziploc bags and hanging them in rows on the wall with pushpins so as to figure out what-all I in fact own.

[galactiicbeauty]

the wedding reception but it’s in shakespeare

jekyll mrs.  Jekyll, may i has't this danceth? lisa dr.  Jekyll, thee may has't ev'ry danceth. utterson henry, what is't? jekyll maketh not a ado.  t'rrible teen.  receiveth me out of h're.  needeth to breatheth. utterson oh, mine own god! jekyll oh, god, what anon? oh god, not anon! holp me somehow! prithee taketh the teen hence! feeleth t filleth me! this shall killeth me! prithee, god, shall me somehow to square, i prayeth! oh, god, holp me! god has't m'rcy! alloweth not h'r seeth! not on our wedding day! lisa henry? hyde th're is nay henry!.  Only hyde! strideth behold at this monst'r, lisa! hyde and what wouldst thee has't done with h'r, strideth? putteth h'r in one of thy camden town w****houses and rent'd h'r out a shilling a timeth? strideth d*** thee, jekyll - enow! hyde enow, forsooth! end-of-game! we seemeth to beest did marry, mine own loveth! eft f'r our bridal sleep chamber, art thee? utterson henry, stayeth backeth! toucheth not h'r! i begeth thee - stand ho! stand ho anon! lisa henry! oh god henry. henry, t's me! if 't be true this is thee, showeth me! utterson lisa, nay! stayeth backeth! sir danvers nay! stand ho that gent! hyde stayeth! or the lady dies! lisa henry, i knoweth thee wanteth not to did hurt me! i knoweth thee can heareth me.  Alloweth me wend. henry, prithee.  F'r us.  Alloweth me wend.  prithee. jekyll doth t, john.  I begeth thee.  Setteth me free. utterson i can't, henry! jekyll we did promise, rememb'r? utterson f'rgive me. lisa nay! hyde / jekyll lisa. Lisa. Lisa. lisa wend to catch but a wink, mine own t'rment'd loveth

[rosenundkohl-blog]

Hochzeit - Vegan feiern mit Freunden und Familie

Feiere Deine vegane Hochzeit mit einem unvergesslichen Hochzeitsmenü. Ob Vorspeise, Hauptspeise oder Nachspeise - wir greifen auf erprobte und eigens entwickelte vegane Rezepte zurück.

Hochzeit - Vegan feiern

Hochzeiten werden noch nicht häufig mit einem rein veganen Menü gefeiert, aber es werden von Jahr zu Jahr mehr. Unsere Hochzeit liegt schon einige Jahre zurück und wir hatten damals kein veganes Hochzeitsmenü. Schade. Heute würden wir unsere Gäste nur noch mit einem veganen Catering bewirten, auch wenn einige der Gäste sicherlich noch nie bewusst ein veganes Menü zu sich genommen haben. Das ist aber auch ein großer Vorteil, den wir auf unseren Caterings beobachten dürfen. Für fast alle Gäste wird damit das Menü deiner Hochzeit zu einem besonderen Erlebnis. Wir haben bis heute stets durchwegs positive Resonanz auf unsere veganen Menüs erhalten. Selbst eine bayrische Hochzeit haben wir schon komplett vegan kulinarisch begleitet - und das heißt schon was. Manche Kommentare der Gäste wiederholen sich:

„Ich hätte nie gedacht, dass man so gut vegan essen kann.“

„Ich bin überzeugter Fleischesser und hatte echt Bedenken, dass ich satt werde.“

„War das Menü echt alles aus Pflanzen und ohne tierische Produkte? Selbst die Nachspeise?“

„Was war denn in der Sauce? Wie kann man denn einen solchen Geschmack ohne Fleisch erhalten?“

…

Das Brautpaar für diese Hochzeit lebt bereits viele Jahre vegan und für sie war es nicht ganz einfach jemanden zu finden, der ein veganes Menü zaubert. Selbst die Eigentümer der Mietlocation konnten nicht weiter helfen und hätten höchstens ein vegetarischen Menü anbieten können. Wie gut, dass die Braut Lisa mit Corinna die Ausbildung zum Plant Based Chef & Nutritionist gemacht hat. So wusste sie auf jeden Fall an wen sie sich wenden konnte. Und gerade weil wir selbst so gut verstehen wie wichtig es ist auf einem Fest köstlich zu speisen, haben wir auch gerne die Mühe und den Weg auf uns genommen. Das durchwegs liebevolle und besondere Fest fand auf dem Luisenhof in der Nähe von Chemnitz statt. Die Hochzeitstafel wurde mit einer stimmungsvollen Tischdekoration eingedeckt und das vegane Hochzeitsmenü in Abstimmung mit dem Brautpaar für die Gäste kreiert.

Vegane Hochzeit - Ein neuer Trend?

Auf jeden Fall werden in naher Zukunft immer mehr Hochzeiten gefeiert, die ein rein veganes Menü haben möchten. Wir haben auch schon Anfragen von Brautpaaren gehabt, die sich nicht ausschließlich vegan ernähren, aber ganz bewusst ein veganes Menü anbieten möchten.

Für alle Gäste einer solchen Hochzeit, die sich bereits vegan ernähren ist es definitiv besonders. Selbst wir beide waren bis heute noch nie auf einer rein veganen Hochzeit als Gast eingeladen, sondern standen immer in der Küche. Die Feste auf denen wir eingeladen werden sind für uns kulinarisch nicht gerade ein tolles Erlebnis. Natürlich wissen all unsere Versandten und Freunde, dass wir uns rein vegan ernähren. Dennoch erhalten wir oft nur etwas vegetarisches und wenn es vegan ist, dann ist es - sorry - fast immer eine Enttäuschung, da die Köche einfach keine Erfahrung haben mit einer hochwertigen veganen Küche. So nehmen wir vorsichtshalber immer öfter ein kulinarisches Notfallpaket mit.

Ein veganes Hochzeitsmenü, das schmeckt

Damit dieser besondere Tag für das Brautpaar auch kulinarisch ein Gaumenschmaus wird, kreieren wir eigene vegane Menüs. Wir kochen grundsätzlich frisch, ohne Zusatzstoffe und gerne beziehen wir alles so regional wie möglich. Vom „Gruß aus der Küche" bis zum „süßen Abschluss“ wird nichts dem Zufall überlassen und wer wünscht, dem greifen wir auch mit der Dekoration auf dem Tisch unter die Arme. Unsere Teller richten wir mit viel Liebe zum Detail an und freuen uns, wenn es auch rund um den Teller einfach passt.

Veganes Hochzeitsmenü

Gruß aus der Küche

Geröstete Lupine - aromatische Tomate aus dem Garten vom Luisenhof - Gurkenjoghurt

Vorspeise

Bunter Salat aus der Gärtnerei Jolling mit vier Köstlichkeiten Dattelspeck - geröstete Aprikose mit Frischkäse - BBQ Tofu Linsen Bällchen - geräucherte Paprika

Hauptspeise

Tempeh Bourguignon mit gefülltem Kartoffelknödel & frischem Minigemüse

Nachspeise

Süsses Dreierlei Weißes Schokomousse mit Salzkaramell - Sufflè mit Vanillesauce - Mango Sorbet mit Kokosraspel

Vegan heiraten - Gerne am Chiemsee oder auch bei Dir

Möchtest Du auch ein veganes Menü für deine Hochzeit oder einen besonderen Anlass? Gerne vermitteln wir besondere Orte wie zum Beispiel die Gärtnerei Jolling am Chiemsee, von denen wir unser Gemüse beziehen. Und wenn Du bereits einen Ort hast und Dir noch erfahrene vegan Köche fehlen, dann wende Dich gerne an uns. Wir freuen uns über deine Anfrage.

[sammy-summerdotde]

"Ein wahrhaft großer Mann wird weder einen Wurm zertreten noch vor dem Kaiser kriechen." Benjamin Franklin SaM Sail and Music Mein kleiner Dampfer macht mir Mut. Stürme übersteht er gut. Der Langkieler lehrt mich neu segeln. Die Fock Back und die Wende regeln. Gut gerefft über Wellen gerutscht, Dabei ein Hustenbonbon gelutscht. Der Wind ist Nachts so eisig kalt, Kommt aber aus der richtigen Richtung halt. Dann surfen auf der Welle, Die Wellenbrechende Mole zur Stelle. Knapp an den Leuchturm vorbei, Adrenalin, jetzt ist es "schunkelfrei" Tausend Tonnen Blinken vor mir, Welchen Weg nehme ich hier? Einhand, Nachts, unter Segel, neuer Hafen. Mal schauen, wo kann ich hier heute schlafen... #ostsee #travelblogger #sailing #genua #travel #travemünde #corona #sammysummer #freedom #crew #rumundehre #medizinstudium #herbst #medstudent #karibik #medicine #pinnenpilot #fun #ukulele #musiker #kanaren #trave #ketsch #rügen #anker #buchbar #airbnb #lisa #siebenmeterundeinbier #reisenmachtglücklich Gute Marina in der Nähe Rostock? Überlege mein Boot ne Woche hier zu lassen. (hier: Warnemünde) https://www.instagram.com/p/CbrzQDLgsXo/?utm_medium=tumblr

[thomasastete17]

Top female investors in healthcare

Halle Tecco

Julie Papanek Grant

Camille Samuels

Lisa Suennen

Nicole Junkermann

Rebecca Lynn

Nina Kjellson

Ann Lamont

Jan Garfinkle

Wende Hutton

[theeconomicgomez]

Top female investors in healthcare:

Halle Tecco

Julie Papanek Grant

Camille Samuels 

Lisa Suennen

Nicole Junkermann 

Rebecca Lynn

Nina Kjellson

Ann Lamont

Jan Garfinkle

Wende Hutton

[my-lady-knight]

Favorite Reads of 2021

In 2019 I prefaced by end-of-year reading roundup by saying that I hadn’t been able to read as many books that year as in previous years. In 2020 I admitted that I’d read even fewer books than last year, thanks to the pandemic. And now here I am in 2021, to tell everyone I read a grand total of thirty-five books—eighteen fewer than last year.

Life is hard and so is my ability to concentrate and lose myself in escapism rather than play color-by-numbers games on my phone.

Somehow, I still managed to read some fantastic books that the writing of this post reminded me how much joy they brought me. (December in particular was extremely solid – almost every single book I read this month ended up on the list.) Without further ado, in chronological order of when I read them:

Concrete Rose by Angie Thomas

A prequel novel to The Hate U Give, Concrete Rose is the story of Starr’s father Maverick Carter during his teenage years as a new father, first to Starr’s older half-brother Seven and then his girlfriend and future wife Lisa’s pregnancy of Starr herself. Angie Thomas is a master at capturing her protagonists’ many facets no matter how small and the vivid complexity and vulnerability that comes with navigating an uncertain future, making tough choices, better and worse ones, and figuring out and coming into the person they want to be. The heart of Concrete Rose in particular lies in Mav wending his way through different, conflicting paths and pressures of Black masculinity, particularly as it relates to being a parent, and what kind of parent he wants to be for Seven, as well as what kind of man he wants to be for himself. This is the first book of 2021 I really sunk into, and it’s always a pleasure to read a new Angie Thomas novel and bask in her writing and storytelling mastery.

The Way Back by Gavriel Savit

Gavriel Savit said “The Graveyard Book meets Hadestown, but set it in a 19th-century shtetl and make it Jewish.” (He didn’t, but he did name-check the musical in the acknowledgements).

Two children—an unremarkable girl named Bluma who’s frightened of death and an angry boy without a father named Yehuda Leib—go on a tangled journey, each of them weaving in and out of the other’s quest to defeat death in their own way. One night in their small town of Tupik, Blumah witnesses the Angel of Death come for her bubbe. Terrified, she steals the Angel’s silver spoon, wanting to carve out herself so the Angel of Death won’t be able to find her—except the Angel really needs that spoon back. That same night Yehuda Leib flees Tupik on the advice of his mother to escape a dangerous man, and in doing so he learns it was the Angel of Death who took his father and he sets off to get him back. Bluma and Yehuda Leib’s paths cross in a cemetery at different times, with each of them individually and together crossing the border and back again into the Far Country and confronting demons, solving riddles, and circling toward and away from the Angel of Death in turn.

The Way Back is primarily lush language and folklore/the mythic made real with a bit of plot thrown in, and it’s a beautiful, kind, and empathetic meditation on death, endings, and life not as death’s opposite but as its partner in arms.

Raybearer & Redemptor by Jordan Ifueko

The back cover copy of Raybearer unfortionally does an (unintentional) bad job of making the book appear to have the similar, paint-by-numbers plot of what feels like most YA fantasy novels the past few years. (A teenage girl with special powers goes to Court! She meets and forms a special connection with the prince! etc.) Having now read both Raybearer and its sequel, I have a lot more sympathy for the poor bastard who had the unenviable job of trying to distill down an incredibly complex story into as much space as was available on the front cover flap, make decisions on what counted as a spoiler (there are *a lot* of story beats), and also make the story sound familiar and engaging enough to appeal to readers who don’t have the same problems I do.

Tarisai has spent her entire life in isolation, living in a grand house in the middle of the grasslands, studying history and languages and mastering puzzles and logic riddles courtesy of bevy of tutors and scholars, all of whom keep their distance from their precocious charge. Fiercely intelligent, incurably curious, and desperately lonely, Tarisai lives off the few, brief visits from her mother—enigmatic, beautiful, commanding—and the praise she bestows at Tarisai fulfilling her expectations. Tar’s life goes in a new, sudden direction when her mother reveals that Tar has been spending her life up to now being prepped to journey to the capital, along with others her age who hope to join the council of the young crown prince Ekundayo.

For the last four hundred years, the emperor of Aritsar has been a Raybearer, immune to all deaths (poison, fire, drowning, etc.) with the exception of old age. Each Raybearer and his heir gains immunity by forming a council of twelve individuals from a young age, who are bound to him—and each other—by their mutual love for one another. Each individual bond Ekundayo forms with an individual from each province will give him immunity from one death.

What Tarisai doesn’t know—and will slowly come to learn in horrifying depth over the course of this book—is the extent to which her mother has crafted Tarisai into a weapon meant to kill the prince, all as part of a plan decades in the making, rooted in the very foundations of the nation’s origin centuries ago—and that of the Raybearers.

Even having written the above, I worry the book still comes across as overly familiar, a bit trite, a bit “yes, I know how this goes, Tarisai will bond with the prince and fall in love with him YA Romance Style, fight and defeat her mother, save the country, yadda yadda.” Raybearer and its sequel Redemptor continually surprised me, over and over, by going down entirely different paths than I anticipated.

It’s a complex story of a multicultural empire that made a deal with the devil to achieve prosperity and power, an exploration of the power of fabricated narratives and, N. K. Jemisin put it, “truth in tainted lies”, and how hidden truths can be just as easily tainted and manipulated by those who uncover them.

It’s the story of a vulnerable girl who was created solely to achieve the ends of her mother, who strives to escape and thwart her influence, and who never stops yearning and searching for and hoping she finally has the love and approval from the one person she’s ever wanted it from. While there is romance, it’s one story thread amongst a dozen of equal or more weight, and Redemptor to the multiplicity and variety of Tar’s connections with different characters.

And it’s an epic about reckoning with historical atrocity and restitution, abuse and trauma, and the double-edged sword of striving to make things better and the bitter, self-loathing despair of failing to do so.

This entry is already incredibly long for a year-end wrap-up, and I hope that I’ve managed to convey even a fraction of what this duology contains for anyone who picks it up.

Razorblade Tears by S. A. Cosby

This thriller hooked me with the following premise: when two men, a happily married interracial couple living in rural Southeast Virginia, are killed in what appears to be a hate crime, their fathers—one Black, one white, both ex-cons, both estranged from and unable to accept or understand their gay sons when they were alive—team up and embark on a path of vengeance paved in past mistakes, old and new regrets, family history, and the ever-haunting specters of shame and secrets (and, of course, lots of blood and the dead bodies of their enemies).

I came for the premise, I stayed for the entertaining and emotionally compelling relationship that grudgingly forms between these two extremely messy men who, despite having led entirely different lives up to now, are now each the only people to get and relate to what the other is experiencing and processing, and I got an absolute kick out of the high-octane fight scenes, breakneck-speed plot developments, and the gonzo, high-stakes showdown at the end undergirding the whole thing. I did figure out who the murderer was halfway through or so but that didn’t detract from my enjoyment. (On a somewhat minor note, the writing is strong overall, but the juxtaposition of dialogue with starting new paragraphs (or rather not doing so) kept poking me in the eye while reading.)

In terms of larger themes and the plot, particularly as they relate to queerness Razorblade Tears adeptly navigates the two fathers’ continued uncomfortableness with queerness even as they mourn the loss of their sons and that they weren’t better parents, and never loses sight of the fact that this book is specifically rooted their failures as fathers—what their own discomfort cost them and cost their sons. The book also doesn’t deny them room to change (especially in Ike’s case) and to try to do things differently by other people and themselves when presented with the opportunity to do so. (There is one plot element related to queerness that I haven’t seen anyone else talk about that one could argue both reframes and reinforces one particular harmful narrative, and I really wish I could discuss it with someone.)

People Love Dead Jews: Reports from a Haunted Present by Dara Horn

This is a tricky book for me to write about. I don’t like writing about being Jewish on the internet. I’ll reblog funny inside jokes and information posts about unremarkable topics, but I rarely write anything resembling my actual feelings about anything Jewish or Jewish-adjacent, and I never write or reblog anything about antisemitism, much less modern-day antisemitism post-Holocaust.

Starting a year or two ago, and especially over the course of this current year, I’ve felt growing inside me a deep and at times overwhelming rage, at the reality of living in a majority-Christian world where 2,000 years of antisemitism whose tenets are baked into the bones of Christianity at large and Christian Europe in particular have meant that, thanks to widespread European colonization, imperialism, and enslavement undergirded by forced conversion campaigns, those tenets are present and accepted as incontrovertible fact across the rest of the world as well. Every time I dwell on it, I feel like I’m trapped inside a funhouse mirror, like I’m living in a reality only I can see while everyone else looks on blithely with their heads tilted, confused that I’m describing a history and a present-day that appears to them as so warped as to be ludicrous.

Dara Horn’s People Love Dead Jews—a series of essays delving into the morbid fascination that many people have about Jews and Jewish history, as victims of violence and murder, and how various supposed heritage sights and museums and cultural memorials propagate the value of the Jewish past as being located in the state of having been murdered—stems from and conveys that rage.

It’s the first time I’ve ever encountered anything like it in professionally published writing. It’s the first time I’ve seen unvarnished Jewish rage covered in review outlets like The New York Times and show up on Best-of-the-Year round-ups online and recommended by booksellers. It’s the first time I’ve read professionally published, mainstream nonfiction in which the author dissects the actions of antisemitic individuals, organizations, and media with no interest in sugarcoating the acidity, bitterness, and weariness she feels while doing so. I read this book, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel crazy.

It’s difficult for me to take a step back and engage with this book on a more critical level (and I did disagree with some of her points throughout), because on an emotional level, this book validated the things I’ve been feeling and continue to feel, and I didn’t even realize how badly I was looking for the validation. As such, this book also feels dangerous—it was very easy while reading for me to submerge myself in the feelings of anger, pain, and grief both on the page and that I felt within myself such that the text itself could at times feel secondary.

My feelings are complicated. This book and its subject matter are complicated. I can’t stop thinking about it.

Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo

It’s funny—I enjoyed King of Scars when it first came out but retained nothing that happened (except for that last-big-cliffhanger-WTF-are-you-doing-Leigh-Bardugo plot twist). Yet once I got back into the swing of things, it was like no time had passed at all and I sunk back into the Grishaverse happy as a clam. Both Zoya and Nikolai grew on me (more so than in King of Scars), I thought Nina’s story was much meatier than in the last book, the plot went in several directions I wasn’t expecting but ended up being fantastic decisions, but also all I want to do is scream about certain CHARACTERS and HOW THEY WERE INVOLVED IN THE PLOT and TWO OF THE BOOK’S BIG RESOLUTIONS and I KNOW THIS IS A FREAKING DUOLOGY BUT ALSO THIS *BRAND-NEW* CLIFFHANGER ENDING IS MADE OF THE SAME BRASS AND DARING AS A POTC MOVIE ENDING. (To be clear, Rule of Wolvesconcludes a duology, and does so satisfyingly, but also sets the stage for a new book because HOW COULD THAT ENDING NOT.) I had a few minor quibbles, namely about one super-intriguing storyline that essentially got cut off and wrapped up halfway through the book, but overall Rule of Wolves both reminded me of the reasons why I love the Grishaverse and convinced me I could fall in love with a Grishaverse book that wasn’t about the Crows.

Jade Legacy by Fonda Lee

Confession time—I didn’t think Jade Legacy could do it. I was somewhere between one-fourth and one-third of the way through, and at that point I was starting to think it couldn’t fully and successfully wrap up a trilogy of what had up to this point consisted of two supremely excellent, complex, sophisticated and bonkers fun novels about my favorite magical gangster crime family.

Me of little faith.

Jade Legacy takes some huge storytelling and narrative risks, and they work. Jade Legacy continues to expand the scopes of Jade City and Jade War while circling back to the trilogy’s origins as that of a true generational story—one that starts off-screen in the Many Nations War fought by the Kauls and the Ayts as one Green Bone clan against the occupying Shotarians, continues into the present moment with the war between the No Peak and Mountain clans fought by Hilo, Shae, Anden, Wen, et al against Ayt Mada, and ends with the next generation—Niko, Ru, and Jaya—growing and coming of age in a globalized era radically different from that of their forbearers, one where access to and the meaning of jade has changed—as has what it means to be a Green Bone warrior.

Jade Legacy has all the strengths of the previous books: a tightly plotted story containing a multitude of story threads tied up beautifully by the end, brisk writing that crackles with energy and precision, fantastic action & fight scenes, world-and-culture-building that’s so damn well realized…and, of course Hilo. And Shae. And Anden. And Wen. And many others.

The ending of this trilogy ending book was note-perfect. On all levels.

I am so goddamn glad these books exist, and that Fonda Lee wrote them. I cannot wait to read them all again.

Honorable Mentions

Each of a Desert by Mark Oshiro The Enigma Game by Elizabeth Wein When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain by Nghi Vo When No One is Watching by Alyssa Cole A People’s Future of the United States edited by Victor LaValle and John Joseph Adams The Past Is Red by Catherynne M. Valente Nemesis Games by James S. A. Corey

For my yearly stats on books written by POC authors, in 2021 I read a total of 13 books. Last year I achieved exactly 50-50 parity between books written by POC and white authors; this year that ratio dropped to roughly 35-65. This is likely due to a combination of my overall reading slump, my general lack of paying attention this year + my attempt to prioritize physical books I already owned (most of which were by white authors), and my reading several entries in The Expanse series (I haven’t run the numbers , but I wouldn’t be surprised if the overall percentage of books/pages written by white men that I read this year turned out to be the highest it’s been since I started keeping track). My goal for next year is to continue aiming and reach 50-50 parity and gain back some of the ground I lost.

[heliads]

hi lisa!! can i request a drabble with zoya? i'm a bi girl, long brown hair and 5'1". total bookworm, really nerdy and shy, the type that talks to a person looking at the ground. obsessed with music and i like to sing a lot. my favourite color is pink, i love musicals and romance movies. i avoid talking to people because i get really nervous, but i always smile at then

well, that's it. thank you ♡

you are me 2.0 have as much zoya as you want

masterlist

There is no reason that Zoya Nazyalensky has been spotted outside the Materialki complex for the fourth time this week. No reason at all. No reason, for instance, that would involve the damningly pretty girl currently heading around the exterior of the building with a few Durasts in tow.

Zoya ducks out of sight before she can be spotted, muttering a few self-inflicted curses all the while. She’s better than this, better than a blushing schoolgirl, but she’s noticed that if she doesn’t give Y/N L/N some space, it’s worse for all involved. Zoya may have built up her pride so tall that no insult can get in, but not all people are like that.

Still, what seems able to get past Zoya’s seemingly impenetrable walls are her feelings for the aforementioned girl. Zoya always dreamed that she’d marry no one other than her gifts, or if required, some powerful Grisha who could provide her with exactly what she wanted. She certainly did not count on the shy, stammering girl who accidentally discovered that the key to Zoya’s heart is a bashful smile quickly coupled with a gaze firmly lowered to the ground.

It’s insufferable, but so is Zoya’s crush. As she watches, Y/N bids her friends a quiet goodbye before slipping further off into the woods surrounding the Little Palace. Zoya follows a distance behind, unable to stop herself. Y/N has a gift, after all, more than just her Grisha abilities: her gift for song.

Zoya leans against the back of a tree, allowing her eyes to close. Soon enough, Y/N’s voice drifts over the tops of the trees, wending its way through Zoya’s spirits like a ribbon through carefully curled hair. She doesn’t know how a siren’s voice came to live inside Y/N’s throat, but she certainly doesn’t mind it.

The sound of footsteps approaches from another corner of the grounds, causing Y/N’s singing to shut off as quickly as a tap. Zoya, too, straightens. She refuses to be caught here, listening to her lover like a poet’s favored creation. She’s a little too late, though- just as Zoya darts back towards the Little Palace, she risks a glance over her shoulder, and realizes that Y/N is looking at her. A soft smile appears on the other girl’s lips, as fast and fleeting as the beat of a dove’s wings.

Then she’s gone, lost in the thickets of leaves. It doesn’t matter, though, the damage is done. Saints, Zoya is smitten. For once, though, she’s not sure that she minds.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

[successwomen]

Nicole Brachetti Peretti and Halle Tecco some of the women in top list

Top female investors in healthcare

Halle Tecco

Julie Papanek Grant

Camille Samuels

Lisa Suennen

Nicole Brachetti Peretti

Rebecca Lynn

Nina Kjellson

Ann Lamont

Jan Garfinkle

Wende Hutton