#Mother | Declaration | Bedroom | Disaster Area

[xtruss]

My Mother Declared My Bedroom A Disaster Area! President Reagan Responds To A Unique Request For Funding

— Shaun Usher | April 18, 2024

The following exchange can be found in the second volume of Letters of Note. Reprinted by kind permission of the Reagan Library. The picture of Ronald Reagan peering into a child’s messy bedroom—which I’m now realising, as I type, is mildly sinister?—is in fact, believe it or not, two photos mashed together1. Both are from Getty who I’m sure won’t mind.

As one would expect, Ronald Reagan was the recipient of thousands of letters each month during his presidency; a mailbag so voluminous, in fact, that a gang of patient volunteers were tasked with opening them all on his behalf and passing him approximately 30 each week to read and respond to. Letters arrived from all over the world, written by a diverse group of people: men, women, fans, critics, average Joes, celebrities, world leaders, and, marking a moment in history, a letter from a 13-year-old boy from South Carolina named Andy Smith, written exactly 40 years ago on 18 April 1984.

[hackernewsrobot]

My mother declared my bedroom a disaster area

https://news.lettersofnote.com/p/my-mother-declared-my-bedroom-a-disaster

[amydancepants-peralta]

sweater weather

Surprise, Kasia @kamekamelea!  I am your writer for @b99fandomevents Fall Fic Exchange ... and I’ve rolled with your prompt of adapting the lyrics of Sweater Weather, by The Neighbourhood.   I really, really hope you enjoy!  

sweater weather (also on AO3)

Jake’s hands tap impatiently along the edge of his car’s steering wheel as he makes his way downtown, his eyes turning to the clock on the dashboard at regular intervals.  The roads are relatively quiet, and staring at the numbers one more time, his foot presses a little harder on the accelerator.

He was running a little late, because he always was, but this time Jake had the legitimacy of a work-related issue up his sleeve.  The perp that he and Boyle had been building up a case on had, in a moment of what the criminal Kaminski called weakness, but Jake and Charles called stupidity, decided to rob the bodega around the corner from their precinct, in the middle of the day.  There had been so many credible eye-witnesses, most of whom worked within the nine-nine, that compiling statements had taken much longer than either of them had anticipated.  So much so, that time completely ran away from Jake, and if he hadn’t glanced at his watch half an hour ago, his tardiness could have been a lot worse.

This afternoon was another Santiago family gathering - this time to celebrate Amy’s niece Mariela, who was turning seven.  Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away, and he and Amy were hosting the family meal this year - their first time hosting together as husband and wife.  There were notes and binders and recipes on every surface of their apartment, all in aid of Amy’s carefully scheduled preparation of the meal, and he would move hell and high water to make sure nothing about this year’s gathering would end in disaster.  

A smile begins to appear on Jake’s face as he thinks about his wife - about the woman that not so long ago would have appeared way out of his league.  There was a time when Thanksgiving - hell, all of the holidays, really - represented nothing but just another reminder of everything he didn’t have.  But now, with Amy, he had a family.  And what’s more, he had hope.

The sun catches his wedding ring when he swivels the car into park and he fiddles with the band, ring twisting as he checks his appearance quickly in the rearview mirror.  Even after all these years, he still wanted to look his best for his in-laws - and being late and unkempt would only set him back from the recovery he’d made since the evening of ‘and another thing’.  Adjusting the collar of the sweater he’d thrown on back at the precinct, Jake gives his reflection a quick shrug, locking up and heading towards the party.

There was a slight downwards slope in the park the Santiagos had chosen for their festivities, giving Jake a vantage point as he approached.  The sound of fallen leaves crunching underneath his sneakers was soon drowned out by the contagious squeals of children playing, familiar voices calling out ‘Tag, you’re it!’ as they race around the playground attached to the picnic area.  He spots Amy quickly, her smile standing out amongst the other adults as she pushes one of her nephews on a swing, and Jake feels tiny butterflies begin to hatch in his stomach at the sight.  One day, someday soon, that might be Amy with a child of their own.  

Seventeen weeks and one day ago, he and Amy had been at Shaw’s, enjoying some post-work drinks - which in itself was nothing particularly momentous.  And to this day he can’t explain it, but one minute he was at the bar ordering drinks for himself and his wife, and the next minute he was turning around, watching her laugh with friends, and he knew.  

That it was time.  For them to start trying - to actively attempt to start a family of their own.  It was as non-sensical as a crossword puzzle leaning him towards marriage, but this epiphany was as strong as the last.  He’d pulled her from the bar less than an hour later, waiting until they were in the comfort of the four walls of their home before telling her how he felt.  Her smile could have lit up the night sky, and by the same time the next day, there was a carefully laid out binder taking pride of place on the desk in their bedroom.

And sure - there was definitely an added bonus to Mega Organised Sexy Times, if only for it’s guaranteed increase in regularity (not that there was ever any problem in that department).  But there was more to it than that.  There had always been love between them - even in their most passionate moments, it was still about making love.  Now, there was this added sense of anticipation - that maybe this time would be the right time, and that soon their family of two would become three.   He’d be lying if he said that his fears had gone away completely - but he knew, more than anything, that this was his chance to fight away his doubts.  Break the cycle, and prove to himself - and anybody that cared to listen - that he was not his father.

As he nears closer Amy looks up from her nephew, face lighting up in a bright smile when she notices his arrival.  She’s wearing the same dress she wore to the moonlight cinema last month (the selfie of them at sunset still holding prime position as his lock screen), covered in a denim jacket he’s seen a hundred times before, but she still manages to surprise him with her beauty.  And he hopes that his heart never fails to skip a beat like it has right now, as she relegates Swing Pushing duty to somebody else before heading in Jake’s direction. 

It occurs to him as he slows down his pace, meeting her halfway, that he had always loved the idea of holding the world within the palm of his hand, but nobody could ever have told him that the world would one day come in the shape of just one person.  

Amy leans in for a kiss when she’s finally in front of him, wrinkling her nose when she pulls away, and he knows its because of the Pumpkin Spice latte he had earlier at work.  Jake loved the drink, and she decidedly did not, and the first time he’d had it after they had started dating, it had led to her instigating a Total Kiss Ban.  It had lasted a total of three hours.  The compromise, as so declared that day, was a compulsory follow-up mint, and he pats the empty pocket of his jacket in way of apology.  

The wrinkled nose smooths and she gives him an affectionate eye roll, one hand moving from his neck to his shoulder.  “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“No place I’d rather be, babe.  I’m sorry time ran away from me, though.”

Her hair swings with the breeze as she shakes her head.  “I heard about Kaminski from one of my officers.  Hard to believe he could have been so brazen.”

“Idiotic is the word I prefer to use.”

She giggles, and no matter how many times he hears it, he still feels a flush of pride run through him.  “Same, same.” she responds with a smile. 

He’s about to ask her how everything was going when nine-year-old Mason comes running up to them, the dirt smeared across his face doing nothing to conceal his smile.  “Tio Jake, Tio Jake!  You gotta come see this fort me and Josh made!”

“A fort?  Heck yeah, I gotta see this!”  Jake feels Amy’s hand slide down his arm with a quick squeeze as he follows Mason towards the pre-built picnic table area, where an obvious extension fortified by spare chairs and blankets had been created.  There’s a sense of fulfilment that runs through him whenever he gets called Tio Jake - for the longest time, he had been certain that he would never been anybody’s Tio.  And honestly, he’s never been happier to be proven wrong.

His hand lifts one of the layers of the fort (only a Santiago gathering in at outside space could result in such an abundance of blankets), eyes widening at the contents inside - action figures! there are SO many action figures in here! - and he turns to Mason with a grin.  “This is awesome!”

“Yah-huh!” He nods in agreement, grabbing Jake by the hand and pulling him into the fort with little regard for the height difference between Jake and the roof’s structure.  Quickly, Jake ducks to his knees, desperate to avoid anything that could compromise the integrity of such great craftsmanship.  

It’s another half hour before Mason and three other Santiago children Jake had been playing with are called away from the fort, tiny legs racing towards the central table at the promise of pumpkin pie.  Retreating from the fort, Jake talks to David briefly, trying his best not to notice the perfectly grown moustache Amy’s brother had begun to grow in support of Movember, simultaneously squashing any secret plans he had to try and grow his own.  Despite Amy’s not-so-secret love for them, there’s no way he could cultivate such a look (besides, the undercover department of the NYPD actually had some perfectly acceptable fakes that were readily at his disposal).

Amy rescues him shortly after, deftly brushing off conversation of David’s upcoming Captain exam by telling him that their mother needed him for a specific duty.  He departs in a haste, and she winks at Jake as he leaves, whispering that no such job exists, but she could tell that he’d had his fill of David for the day.  She drops a chaste kiss to his lips, and Jake knew that she loved that he wasn’t the biggest fan of David’s, purely because she wasn’t.

A cool breeze cuts through the surrounding trees, their limbs bending to submission while the once swept-up leaves begin to break free of their piles, and Amy shivers slightly.  Instinctively Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer and smiling as she eagerly snuggles her head into his chest.  Her face burrows into the fabric of his sweater, chest expanding as she breathes him in, and Jake’s smile grows bigger at the sight.  He can still remember their first night together, how amazing she looked with her head against his pillow, the tiniest of smiles on her face as she mumbled that it smelled of him.  He knew he was a goner then, and he still is now.  

Amy lifts her head, blushing when she realises she’s been caught out, and Jake throws her a wink, tightening his grip around her shoulders.  This was his favourite time of the year, the cooler air inviting snuggles at all hours of the day.  Lazy sleep-ins wrapped up together encouraged - if not demanded - by his drowsy wife.  Hot chocolates on the regular, extra marshmallows floating along the top of his mug without prompting.  

The idea that someone like him could have moments like those for the rest of his life, still seemed crazy.  But Amy was the only person Jake could imagine building a life with.  

There had been a lot of opportunities, over the past few years, to worry about what was to come.  Speed-bumps that had been thrown at them by the universe:  tests that came in multiple forms, all with the same purpose of pointing out what they already knew - that no matter what happened, Jake and Amy would always have each other.

He’d spent countless hours with his toes digging into the sand of the beaches of Florida, back turned from the world he refused to an active part of.  Kept his eyes trained on the coastline, forever wishing that a way to walk on water would present itself on command.  If there was ever a chance to walk away and start all over again, it was in that overheated state with it’s ridiculously cold pizza.  But whenever Jake felt at his lowest, his mind would turn to Amy, and how he knew she would be working on solving their case right at that very moment, and the memory of her smile - the one reserved for solving the most frustrating of puzzles - became his calm in the storm.  

And so he waited, for six long months.  And she never left his mind for a minute.

The brick walls of the prison cell that made up his home for eight weeks had been cool to the touch, the bricks just porous enough for Jake to be able to feel the anguish cries of previous residents whenever his hands rested against them.  This time, he had two photos of Amy to keep him centred, positioned by his side just as she would have been at home, and by the time his freedom had been restored he had committed to memory every single pixel.  And then, by the grace of all that is good, the real thing was standing in front of him in Shaw’s, offering to buy a free man a drink, and he knew that their forever needed to start as soon as possible.

And now, they were on the cusp of starting life’s biggest adventure together.  There was so much left unknown about what their future could bring - one child, or many (although Amy drew the line at replicating her and her seven brothers).  Perhaps they would raise a family of crime-fighting geniuses - the perfect combination of his determination and her brilliant mind forging an unstoppable team of protectors of justice.  Or maybe they would be creators - dancers, chefs, singers and writers … all or none of the above, there was one thing that Jake knew that they would be.  And that was happy.

Moving behind Amy, Jake takes advantage of their height difference by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back closer to his chest as they stand together, watching the Santiago cousins retreat from their parents and return to playtime.  Amy’s hands are quick to rest against his, and even quicker to retreat under the cuffs of his sweater, soft fingers brushing against his skin, seeking warmth.  He lets out a soft chuckle, burying his nose into her hair as she squeezes her hands around each forearm, and his grip tightens ever so slightly.  

Perhaps if he had known while in that strange Floridian universe where ATVs were standard modes of transportation and his hair represented a porcupine; that afternoons like this were waiting for him in the not too distant future, he would have tried a little harder to play the role of Larry Sherbert.  Or maybe he would have jumped onto the next flight to New York, Figgis be damned, denying the universe any chance to keep them apart when together was so much better.

There are just some things he’ll never really know for sure.  His future with Amy was not one of them.  

Her thumb begins tracing patterns along the edge of Jake’s arm, and Amy’s touch brings Jake’s head back out from the clouds, focusing on the present as he hums in contentment.  

“It’s a pretty great view, isn’t it?” Amy asks, the smile on her face growing as she watches her niece Amelia tackle an unsuspecting Mason from behind.

Jake cranes his neck, watching his wife watch the children play, and her smile makes his.  “The best,” he replies, and the tone in his voice makes her turn slightly until their eyes meet.  Her face turns red as she blushes, one hand sneaking out from underneath his sleeves, pulling on the zipped edge of his jacket until they join in the middle for a gentle kiss.  

She sighs softly as they part, hand quickly returning to it’s original position as Jake rests his head against Amy’s.  They’re silent for a long moment, before his wife breaks the silence.

“You want to go back down to the fort, don’t you?”

His lips twist into a grin.  “I really do.”

She laughs, the sound of her giggles vibrating through to Jake’s chest as she pulls away from their cuddle.  “Go on, then!”

“You’re the best Ames,  iloveyousomuchokaybyeee!”  His hands squeeze hers quickly as they part, throwing her his happiest smile as he runs back towards Fort Santiago.

* * * *

Amy watches with a contented smile as her husband chases her nieces and nephews around the park, their excited screams bubbling into laughter as they near the now impressively large fort.  There were a lot of things for her to be thankful for this coming Thanksgiving, but having Jake in her life was always going to be the top of her list.

She flicks the inside of her wrist slightly, eyeing off the time displayed on her watch’s face, and begins to plan their polite exit within the hour.  This afternoon had been great, and time with her family was always important, but her period was five days late and there were nine different brands of pregnancy tests burning a hole in her purse.  She wanted to go home, sit with her husband on the floor of their bathroom, and find out together if all the things they had been dreaming for were finally about to come true.

She’d never been one for big adventures, until Jake had stumbled into her life, and now she can’t think of anything greater.  Because with him by her side, she could take on anything.

The two of them were about to become three - she could feel it in her heart of hearts - and Amy couldn’t wait for their adventure to begin.  

[undercoverwizardninjaturtle]

Windows: A ROTTMNT Fanfiction

Summary: Some of us are born different, sometimes it takes a special family member to understand you. Some of us are just that lucky. A Leo and Donnie centered Fanfction

Word Count: 4100

Pairings: None

Rating: Its just a family story, don’t worry

                                                                                                        Windows

 “MUMMY ATTACK!!”

 The large lair immediately filled with the squeals of young children. The source of the chaos was the five-year-old with red stripes over his eyes, and a large blue t-shirt now charging after a laughing four-year-old who was waving his arms excitedly as he ran away, “NO one can escape a mummy attack!” Leo shouted grabbing at Mikey who only laughed louder and ran faster, even for a four-year-old.

 A six-year-old, far larger than either of the two boys, leapt out from behind the recliner, scooping up the four-year-old and turning to Leo in a blur of red, “I’ll save you Mikey!!!” Raph pointed at Leo,” Get the mummy!!!!”

  Leo threw his arms over his face as the giant mass suddenly fell on him, knocking all wind, life, and sense out of his body. Even if he had loss, he made sure to let out a over dramatic cough, “Foiled again!!!! Curse you Lou Jitsu!” before letting out a loud ‘bleh’ and letting his head roll off to the side with his eyes closed

“‘eo’s dead!” Mikey shrieked, Leo could feel his small hands shaking him in panic,” ‘e killed him!”

 “Leo’s not dead.” Raph always ruined his fun,” He’s playing dead.”

 “‘he is?” Leo could feel Mikey peer closer at his face, he had played dead long enough he still waited till Mikey was poking him in the face before bolting upright, his hands brought up like claws with a snarl, “I’m alive!!!” he declared

  Mikey shrieked again, diving behind Raph’s legs. Before his light blue eyes peered around their oldest brother. Though Leo was laughing loudly Raph was giving him a frown, figures, “Leo don’t scare Mikey! He’s the baby!” Raph never knew how to play right

 “Yeah! I’m da baby!” Mikey declared from his hiding location.

 Despite his young age, Leo was more then adept at rolling his eyes, “it’s a game! You’re the one who wanted me to be the mummy. Next time ask Donnie.”

 Raph frowned, not yet capable of a glare, “you know he doesn’t like that. He wanted to be alone.”

 “He ALWAYS wants to be alone.” Sass was another one of Leo’s natural talents. But despite himself he looked over to the far side of the lair where a curtain lay over a doorway. A designated ‘quiet area’ that Dad had set up a few months ago. Raph was already walking over, his constant shadow Mikey was waddling after him. Raph poked his head past the curtain, “Donnie do you want to play with us?” as Leo expected, he didn’t get a response, “Ok but if you want to let us know” Raph ducked back out. Looking at Leo before smiling, “Come on! Let’s go play Jupiter Jim!”

 Raph was already running off with Mikey. Mikey would have no problem playing whatever Raph wanted. But Leo found himself glaring at the curtain and sticking out his tongue before running after his brothers

 (#)(#)(#)(#)

 They played for a while after that, but eventually Mikey wanted to play with paint. Not in the mood for being painted pink, but as usual Raph was, he went and read through some of his Jupiter Jim comics. Until the smoke wafting from the kitchen signified dinner was ready. Thankfully Dad had only managed to burn the salad, somehow, and left the grilled cheese sandwich mostly undamaged. Leo had only ever known one dad, his Dad, so he often wondered if another Dads were as round or tired looking as his. Whenever their Dad wasn’t watching movies or playing with them, he was pouring over several books he had gotten from the ‘internet’. Most of the titles didn’t make sense to Leo, but he recognized one as a cooking book. Which had helped Dad’s food to go from, ‘tolerable’ to ‘tasty’ as he tore into his grilled cheese. Raph, of course, was into his third already. Mikey was savoring each bite with a wide grin on his face. Splinter’s sandwich was untouched mostly because he was too busy using it as a pillow. His black hair had started to resemble salt more then anything, and no amount of poking from Mikey could wake him up. Eventually Raph got sick of it, “Pop’s sleepy let him go!”

 “Food is for eating not for sleeping,” Mikey said,

 “Daddy’s tired Mikey, he’ll be ok.” But it was hard not to hear the pride in Raph’s’ voice. Leo knew Raph well enough to know he craved moments like this, since it meant he could be in charge for a bit. But Leo glared across the table towards a second occupant who wasn’t eating, “Why isn’t’ HE is eating then, he’s not sleeping”

The object of scrutiny didn’t look up from his book. Or look to the plate of plain bread by his hand. Donnie, unlike the others who liked to wear t-shirts and shorts, wore a giant purple hoodie that hung around his knees, the hood brought up over his head and eyes fixated on the pages of a book with words too complicated for Leo to understand.

  “He’s not hungry.” Raph said, “he’s fine.”

 “He’s boring.” Leo clarified. Sinking back into his seat and crossing his arms

 With a giant snort Dad sat straight up, “It-wasn’t-my-donut!’” before blinking, seeming to recognize he wasn’t in a situation with a guilty pastry, “Um, right.” Picking up his sanwich and, despite the fur that must have been caught in it, devoured it in one bite, before looking t his sons., “Finally! I knew I could cook something edible.” With a proud look on his face, “WE will just not eat salad ever again.” Before looking over his sons,” did you all enjoy your dinner?””

  “It was really good Pop!” Raph said happily, “It was really good!”

 “Tasty!” Mikey agreed,

 Despite how tired he looked, Splinter beamed happily,’ Ha! Take that Rupert Swaggart! There’s a new chef in town!” he looked around tile his eyes fell on the quiet son at the table. It was hard to see Dad’s face fall, “Purple, you didn’t eat breakfast. Are you really that unhungry?”

 But, like when Leo had said something, Don didn’t look up from his book.  Instead he slid off his chair and walked away from the table. Leo frowned and crossed his arms again. It was one thing to ignore him, and he REALLY hated being ignored, but Dad had made a good dinner!

 Splinter, to celebrate not burning down the kitchen, gave each of his remaining sons a small bowl of vanilla ice cream. Missing out on ice-cream might have seemed like a punishment to Leo, but he had never seen Donnie even look at a bowl. So instead he ate his treat greedily, and watched Splinter scrub the ice-cream off Mikey’s’ face.

When dinner and desert was all cleaned up, Mikey and Raph went to watch some tv with Dad. Which seemed fine except that Leo wasn’t in the mood to hold still. Instead he thought of his comics. He hurried up to their shared bedroom to retrieve the next issue.

 Their room was a usual mess, except for the bed for Don’s corner, so its surprised Leo to see Donnie sitting on the floor fiddling with something in his hands. IT surprised him more to see his Jupiter Jim comics strewed on the floor around him. One of the comics on his lap, “What are you doing?!” he asked

Don stared at him before looking back to his hand. Leo reached forward and snatched the comic off his lap,” These aren’t yours stupid!” he snapped, he quickly flipped through the pages to check for tears, “you can’t just take stuff that doesn’t belong to you Donnie!”

 “Leo?” figured mother Raph would come to investigate, “What’s going on?”

 “Donnie was touching my stuff!” Leo pointed, “Its my stuff! Not his!”

 Raph looked over the scene, before looking back to Leo, “He’s just looking at its Leo. He’s not doing anything bad- “

 “No! You always stand up for him but its’ my comics! He never plays with us, he refuses to do anything other then sit alone by himself.” He turned, looking to look at said brother, whose unreadable gaze was fixated on him, “You’re stupid, and I hate you.”

 Donnie blinked at him, for the first time in his life Leo could see that Donnie’s eyes were light brown, and even if his face was still silent and stoic, his eyes had begun to tremble with tears. In a dash, Donnie darted out of the room, ducking underneath Raphie’s arms. “Donnie!” Raph shouted after him, before turning and glaring at Leo, “Y-You’re a bully Leo!” before running after their brother.

 Leo squeezed his eyes shut before kneeling. Picking up his comics off the ground. It wasn’t his fault, Donnie shouldn’t have been touching his stuff! It wasn’t’ his fault.

 He was picking up “Jupiter Jim #192 The Never-ending Tale” when he saw something where Donnie had been sitting. Seeing as he had been messing with his comics, he didn’t have a problem messing with Don’s stuff. But when he picked it up, he recognized a small stacking of Lego bricks This one was only a few bricks tall with a blue brick. He had taken some cloth, probably from some sparse clothing and made it into a blue strip around the brick. There were two block dots where the eyes should have been.

 Leo sat down hard on the ground for a moment. Before shifting around the comics some more to find a second brick figure, clearly made to resemble Jupiter Jim, he even had found a plastic piece to use as a helmet….

 (#)(#)(#)(#)

   Donnie didn’t come out of his ‘quiet place’ for the rest of the night.  And neither Raph or Mikey talked to him either not that he was really trying to either. Instead, after sitting alone thinking to himself, he wondered upstairs. His father was, surprisingly, still awake, and sitting at his desk. Even though their bedroom wasn’t’ the cleanest, it was nothing compared to the disaster of their fathers’ room, clothes strewn over the floor and stacks of boxes in the corner, there was even a sword sticking out of the wall, for some reason a sword sticking out of the wall. His father was sitting at his desk, piles of thick books by his desk. Some of them, most of them, had Lou Jitsu on the cover. But there were also a few extra thick books with children on the cover ‘one reading parenting for idiot’s and you’. It was some sort of weird textbook like Donnie was already reading. Leo was having a hard time reading the cover. But the book in Dad’s hands was a little bit easier to read. “A-Auti-sim?” He read out loud, “What’s that? Why are you reading that?”

 Dad gave a small sigh, one sadder then Leo had ever heard from him,” I’m hoping it will help understand your brother.’ He set the book aside and turned in his seat, ‘You had a bad day Blue. You were very cruel to your brother today.”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

 “Did you apologize to Purple?”

 “I-I.” he couldn’t lie. But his eyes started to burn, “He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t’ play he sits in that stupid room all day. He doesn’t even act like he feels anything. But=But he was messing with my comics…and and he made these” Leo stood on his tip toes and set them on Splinters desk. Splinter picked up the Jupiter Jim figurine, then the Little Leo, “I don’t get it Dad.”

 “Some children, like Donnie, have difficulty communicating. They have sensory problems, and don’t know how to connect to others. But if they want to connect with someone…...sometimes they try to communicate in anyway they can.” He held the figurines out to him,

(#)(#)(#)(#)

 Leo had never actually been in Donnie’s Quiet Area, but it was made for Donnie. It was covered in boxes of weird old electronic items that Splinter had collected for him over time. There was also a set of headphones lying by a fully purple blanket. Which is, of course, where he found his brother. Donnie was curled up on the blanket, headphones over his head. Even in the low light he could see his blood shot eyes and wondered how long he had spent crying. Probably all night since Donnie didn’t come to sleep in their room last night. The thought made his gut twist in guilt. Don took one look at him before rolling over onto his side, shell to him and hoodie over his head.

 The five-year-old didn’t move closer, but sat down on the ground, if it wasn’t for his sweat pants the ground would have been a lot colder, “Hey Donnie.” He started, keeping his voice low. Now out of fear of their brothers hearing him. But it was called Donnie’s ‘Quiet Area’ for a reason, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier….” He fiddled his thumbs together. He wasn’t’ sure if Donnie was even listening to him, “I don’t always understand what you need. Only what I want…” he reached into his pants pocket. He saw Don’s head tilt over his shoulder for a moment, probably fighting curiosity. Leo set the little Jupiter Jim figure on the ground, and the Little Leo besides it, “I think these are really cool. Did you make them?” Don was now looking at him fully before sitting up sliding the headphones off his head, “ I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t know you were making anything so cool. “Leo reached back into his pants pocket, it wasn’t as clean as his, actually it was mostly just green and purple and marker marking where he had tried to replicate the detail Donnie had made, he set it by the little Leo, “See? Now Little Me won’t be lonely.”

 Even though his expression is still unreadable something in him lights up. He immediately scoots closer and picks up the Little Donnie and looks over it, Leo took the opportunity to look around again, he didn’t realize before that the wires and electronics are organized. But in what way he didn’t know, “What else do you like to do in here?”

 Don looks at him again, but nothing more. Leo almost thought for a moment that Donnie was asking him to leave but wondered if Donnie was asking something…. Leo got up and looked around the room before seeing a box shoved between two disassembled stereos. He moves closer and makes sure to look at Donnie before pulling it out. In it are more bricks of multiple colors, but scrubbed so clean Leo can smell the disinfect, he sits down again in front of his brother, “Show me how you play, and we’ll go from there alright?”

 Its’ obvious Don is still wary of him, but he sorts out all the pieces by shape and color and slowly starts to build. At first Leo isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do but adjusts to Donnie’s subtle gestures and glances on what to put what piece where. Out of the corner of his eyes, Leo can see where Don has put up strange pictures on the walls, not in the typical sense of art, but it looked like he had drawn family members as cars. With Raph being a semi-truck and Splinter being a bug. Mikey was an airplane and Leo was, to his enjoyment, a racecar. He couldn’t help but wonder how many hours Donnie spent staring at the drawings…did he put them up because he missed them? Did it have something to do with what Splinter said about not being able to communicate even though they were less than a few feet away? But it wasn’t’ too long before a strange noise comes from Donnie, one that Raph always got when it got close to meal time. “are you hungry?”  Don gives him a blank look again, “You haven’t eaten since last night, “Even then it had been just a few oyster crackers, “can I go get you a snack?” Donnie glances at his hands for a moment. It took Leo a little bit to catch on, “Oh you don’t want to get your hands dirty. I get that.” Not really, but he didn’t want to say that, “What if I go find a food that won’t make your hands dirty? Is that ok?”

 Don sits up more, as though in trigged. Leo stood up and walked out of the room. But immediately realized his task was futile, a word he had heard in Lou Jitsu’s Child Development Movie called “Lou Jitsu vs Child Illiteracy”. He really couldn’t cook on his own, the Ice Cream bomb of Mikey’s’ third birthday party banned everyone from cooking till they were Atleast ten. But the long yellow fruit on the counter caught his attention, he was sure Donnie love bananas but wasn’t sure on how to make them…clean.

 After a few mints of deep though he peeled the bananas and uses the back of a spoon to cut them into pieces into bowl. After that he grabbed a new spoon and hurried back to the Quiet Area, “Blue?” he stopped and turned to see his Dad looking at him from his recliner, ‘What are you doing?”

  “Donnie’s hungry, he wants clean food.” He held the bowl up for his father to see.

  “You- “Splinter looks surprised, not that Leo can blame him, “You got him to speak?”

 “No, but I can tell he’s really hungry,”

 “Oh, well um I’m very glad you figured out what he wanted to eat.” Splinter turned back to the tv. But again, Leo can feel something is off. There was a sadness coming off his father that he wasn’t sued to, it was the same sadness Leo had felt before when Dad had been reading that book. Was he sad he wasn’t able to help? Leo walked over to the chair, lowering his cheek onto the arm rest, “Donnie loves you Daddy.” He said, “Donnie loves all of us. He just doesn’t know how to tell us yet.”

 Splinter looked back to him, again there’s something about him that makes Leo sad. But slowly his father smiles and gently rubs his scalp, “I know, and I love all you.”

 Leo hurries back to don’s quiet area where Donnie is still waiting of him, sitting o up on his knees eagerly and looking at the bowl in Leos’ hands, “Clean food!” he sat down Nd held the bowl out, how’s this?” he asked

 That time. Leo almost gets a full smile

 (#)(#)(#)(#)

 Ten years later

 What a freaking Day.

 Donnie glared at his broken self-cleaning-toothpick. Of course, Raph would use an experiment he knew nothing about. What part of personal space did no one understand?! He didn’t even use it as a toothpick, honestly, he didn’t want to know what he had used it for only that it had come back to him with the same consistency of molasses.

  Knowing Raph, he had probably used it in a microwave to see what would happen.

 “Back tot eh dork cave I see?”

 The purple masked ninja groaned under his breath and glanced towards his door to see a familiar snarky Leo leaning against his circular doorway, grinning his usual grin,” find out what Raph did to your toothpick yet?”

 “No and I don’t think I want to know.” It was a lost cause anyway, it was better just to start over. He pushed the destroyed device aside and laid his head on his desk with a loud moan. He could have flipped Leo off for chuckling like that but couldn’t find the energy to lift his head up

 “Come on D, you were going to start over anyway. We both know it. Now get out here so we can watch a movie.”

 Unfortunately, Leo was right, if only because every time he tried to use the tooth pick it tried to gain consciousness. He had never told Leo about ah problem, but like every other moment it seems like Leo can read him.

 Another thing he had never told Leo was how grateful he was for that. His brothers didn’t have the memory he did, so his childhood wasn’t as clear to them as it was to them. But he could still remember when his bed rom was his ‘quiet place’ hiding back here for hours and working on whatever he wanted. His brothers, though eh had loved them, were often too loud and messy for him to handle. Now that he was older he understood what the problem had been, what was still the problem, but it had been like looking at his family through a window with them waving over occasionally to acknowledge him. He could see everything they were doing. But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t reach them.

  But one day, after being so cruel Donnie almost cried himself sick. Leo had approached the window. He had taken time to finally understand what he needed. For a while after that, Leo was his protector, his translator for the world. A way for his brothers to understand him and for him to understand them. They had become unofficial twins. A nickname he had hated as much as he loved it.

 He truly believed Leo reaching out helped him learn to communicate better, how to deal with his sensory issues. Though those problems still lurked in the back of his mind, every once in an awhile, he still couldn’t handle loud noises and he still had problems talking to his brothers…

  But that window had been opened.

  Donnie looked at his desk, at the three brick figures that had been built so long ago and stood up, “Atta boy!” Leo cheered, turning to leave, “Now hurry- “Before he could stop himself, Donnie hugged his brother tight around the chest. Burying his face into his brother’s shoulder rand squeezing him for all dear life. He could feel his brothers shock by the fact he lost his footing for a few seconds before freezing up, even so his brothers’ arms came up around him back, cautiously returning the brace, “You ok? If it’s the tooth pick, I swear Raph didn’t drop it in the toilet- “

  “Thank you.” He mumbled. Donnie felt Leo tilt his head more in his direction, probably unable to hear him. So, despite his already waning pride, he spoke louder, with a tighter hug, “Thank you for everything Leo.”

 He half expected a sarcastic comment. Or maybe a bad joke. But instead Leo squeezed him back just as tightly, somehow a link that had existed since their childhood told Leo exactly what Donnie was talking about, “You’re my favorite twin Donnie.” He nuzzled his cheek against Don’s, “I’d do anything for you.”

  “I know.”  For a few moments the two just stood there, even when Raph walked by, gave off an emotional ‘aw’ and slunk away to not disturb them. Donnie finally drew away, but before he could fully release Leo, his brothers’ arms caught him around the chest again and squeezed tighter then before, “then its time for a movie!” eh declared, Hugging Donnie off his feet lifting him out of the room as Don squawked loudly,” LEO YOU NEANDERTHAL- “

  “MOVIE MOVIE MOVIE!!!’ he chanted loudly, using his free arm to pump the air. Despite his embarrassment, and despite his brothers all collapsing in near laughter, he couldn’t hate Leo for embarrassing him. He got his revenge later by kicking Leo off the bean bag they had shared, before reluctantly letting Leo join him again.

  He was his official twin

  He could never stay mad at him

  (#)(#)(#)(#)

 I haven’t written anything here in a while, but this was a prompt from another website I thought would be fund to you, course it became personal for me for many reasons. But I hope you found it enjoyable 😊

[newstfionline]

The Homeless Crisis Is Getting Worse in America’s Richest Cities

Bloomberg, November 20, 2018

It was just after 10 p.m. on an overcast September night in Los Angeles, and L. was tired from a long day of class prep, teaching, and grading papers. So the 57-year-old anthropology professor fed her Chihuahua-dachshund mix a freeze-dried chicken strip, swapped her cigarette trousers for stretchy black yoga pants, and began to unfold a set of white sheets and a beige cotton blanket to make up her bed.

But first she had to recline the passenger seat of her 2015 Nissan Leaf as far as it would go--that being her bed in the parking lot she’d called home for almost three months. The Late Show with Stephen Colbert was playing on her iPad as she drifted off for another night. “Like sleeping on an airplane--but not in first class,” she said. That was in part by design. “I don’t want to get more comfortable. I want to get out of here.”

L., who asked to go by her middle initial for fear of losing her job, couldn’t afford her apartment earlier this year after failing to cobble together enough teaching assignments at two community colleges. By July she’d exhausted her savings and turned to a local nonprofit called Safe Parking L.A., which outfits a handful of lots around the city with security guards, port-a-potties, Wi-Fi, and solar-powered electrical chargers. Sleeping in her car would allow her to save for a deposit on an apartment. On that night in late September, under basketball hoops owned by an Episcopal church in Koreatown, she was one of 16 people in 12 vehicles. Ten of them were female, two were children, and half were employed.

The headline of the press release announcing the results of the county’s latest homeless census strikes a note of progress: “2018 Homeless Count Shows First Decrease in Four Years.” In some ways that’s true. The figure for people experiencing homelessness dropped 4 percent, a record number got placed in housing, and chronic and veteran homelessness fell by double digits. But troubling figures lurk. The homeless population is still high, at 52,765--up 47 percent from 2012. Those who’d become homeless for the first time jumped 16 percent from last year, to 9,322 people, and the county provided shelter for roughly 5,000 fewer people than in 2011.

All this in a year when the economy in L.A., as in the rest of California and the U.S., is booming. That’s part of the problem. Federal statistics show homelessness overall has been trending down over the past decade as the U.S. climbed back from the Great Recession, the stock market reached all-time highs, and unemployment sank to a generational low. Yet in many cities, homelessness has spiked.

It’s most stark and visible out West, where shortages of shelter beds force people to sleep in their vehicles or on the street. In Seattle, the number of “unsheltered” homeless counted on a single night in January jumped 15 percent this year from 2017--a period when the value of Amazon.com Inc., one of the city’s dominant employers, rose 68 percent, to $675 billion. In California, home to Apple, Facebook, and Google, some 134,000 people were homeless during the annual census for the Department of Housing and Urban Development in January last year, a 14 percent jump from 2016. About two-thirds of them were unsheltered, the highest rate in the nation.

At least 10 cities on the West Coast have declared states of emergency in recent years. San Diego and Tacoma, Wash., recently responded by erecting tents fit for disaster relief areas to provide shelter for their homeless. Seattle and Sacramento may be next.

The reason the situation has gotten worse is simple enough to understand, even if it defies easy solution: A toxic combo of slow wage growth and skyrocketing rents has put housing out of reach for a greater number of people. According to Freddie Mac, the government-sponsored housing giant, the portion of rental units affordable to low earners plummeted 62 percent from 2010 to 2016.

Rising housing costs don’t predestine people to homelessness. But without the right interventions, the connection can become malignant. Research by Zillow Group Inc. last year found that a 5 percent increase in rents in L.A. translates into about 2,000 more homeless people, among the highest correlations in the U.S. The median rent for a one-bedroom in the city was $2,371 in September, up 43 percent from 2010. Similarly, consultant McKinsey & Co. recently concluded that the runup in housing costs was 96 percent correlated with Seattle’s soaring homeless population. Even skeptics have come around to accepting the relationship. “I argued for a long time that the homelessness issue wasn’t due to rents,” says Joel Singer, chief executive officer of the California Association of Realtors. “I can’t argue that anymore.”

Homelessness first gained national attention in the 1980s, when declining incomes, cutbacks to social safety net programs, and a shrinking pool of affordable housing began tipping people into crisis. President Ronald Reagan dubiously argued that homelessness was a lifestyle choice. By the mid-2000s, though, the federal government was taking a more productive approach. George W. Bush’s administration pushed for a “housing first” model that prioritized getting people permanent shelter before helping them with drug addiction or mental illness. Barack Obama furthered the effort in his first term and, in 2010, vowed to end chronic and veteran homelessness in five years and child and family homelessness by 2020.

Rising housing costs are part of the reason some of those deadlines were missed. The Trump administration’s proposal to hike rents on people receiving federal housing vouchers, and require they work, would only make the goals more elusive. Demand for rental assistance has long outstripped supply, leading to yearslong waits for people who want help. But even folks who are lucky enough to have vouchers are increasingly struggling to use them in hot housing markets. A survey by the Urban Institute this year found that more than three-quarters of L.A. landlords rejected tenants receiving rental assistance.

It’s not bad everywhere. Houston, the fourth-most-populous city in the nation, has cut its homeless population in half since 2011, in part by creating more housing for them. That’s dampened the effect of rising rents, Zillow found. Meanwhile, the nonprofit Community Solutions has worked with Chicago, Phoenix, and other cities to gather quality, real-time data about their homeless populations so they can better coordinate their interventions and prioritize spending. The approach has effectively ended veterans’ homelessness in eight communities, including Riverside County in California.

Efficiency can go only so far. More resources are needed in the places struggling the most with homelessness. McKinsey calculated that to shelter people adequately, Seattle would have to increase its outlay to as much as $410 million a year, double what it spends now. Still, that’s less than the $1.1 billion the consultants estimate it costs “as a result of extra policing, lost tourism and business, and the frequent hospitalization of those living on the streets.” Study after study, from California to New York, has drawn similar conclusions. “Doing nothing isn’t doing nothing,” says Sara Rankin, a professor at Seattle University’s School of Law and the director of the Homeless Rights Advocacy Project. “Doing nothing costs more money.”

Then there’s the moral argument for action. “It’s outrageous to me that in a country with so much wealth--and certainly enough for everybody--that there are people who lack even the basics for survival,” says Maria Foscarinis, founder and executive director of the National Law Center on Homelessness & Poverty. Appeals to humanity were part of the strategy in the 1980s, when she and other activists helped push through the first major federal legislation to fight homelessness. Her organization has led a charge against laws that make it a crime to sleep outside in public places, one of the more insidious ways politicians have addressed the crisis. In July the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit affirmed the unconstitutionality of such bans in a case that Foscarinis’s group--along with Idaho Legal Aid Services and Latham & Watkins--brought against two such ordinances in Boise. “As long as there is no option of sleeping indoors, the government cannot criminalize indigent, homeless people for sleeping outdoors, on public property, on the false premise they had a choice in the matter,” the court wrote. The ruling has led cities, including Portland, Ore., and Berkeley, Calif., to change their policies.

To placate angry constituents, officials too often settle for temporary solutions, such as sweeps of tent encampments and street cleaning. San Francisco Mayor London Breed recently scored some publicity, carrying a broom out to the “dirtiest” block in the city for a photo op with the New York Times. In other places, there’s simply a vacuum of leadership coordinating the patchwork of agencies, nonprofits, and religious organizations trying to help. After reporting intensively for a year on homelessness in the Puget Sound region, the Seattle Times put it bluntly: “No one is in charge.”

Meanwhile, the businesses responsible for much of the area’s economic fortunes, as well as rising housing costs, have been slow to throw their weight behind solutions. Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos recently earmarked a portion of his $2 billion philanthropic pledge for homeless services--only months after his company fought aggressively to beat back a modest tax on large employers in Seattle that would have raised less than $50 million a year for the same.

Blaming people who are trying to get back on their feet is probably the least productive way to solve the crisis. Consider Mindy Woods, a single mother and U.S. Navy veteran who lives in a Seattle suburb. In 2010 she developed autoimmune diseases that made her chronically tired and caused so much pain she struggled to work at the insurance company where she’d been selling disability policies. “I was just a mess,” she says. “I had to quit my job.” To help pay rent for the apartment where she lived with her son, she babysat, watched neighbors’ pets, and led a Camp Fire youth group. Still, she and her son ended up having to leave the apartment because of a serious mold infestation, kicking off an eight-month period when they couch-surfed and spent time in a motel and shelter. It was a challenge just to refrigerate her son’s diabetes medicine.

They eventually were accepted into a transitional apartment, where they stayed for 3½ years. But in 2015 her landlord stopped accepting vouchers. Woods had to race to find another apartment owner who’d take her voucher before it lapsed. Application after application got rejected. “The discrimination was alive and well,” she says. Another eight months passed. When she finally found an apartment, there wasn’t room for her son. They had no choice but to separate, and he now lives nearby. Woods bristles when people blame the homeless for their predicament. “This is not about drugs, this is not about mental illness, this is not about lazy people,” she says. “We were doing everything we could to stay in houses.”

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Who Names The Colors~

Chapter 9-This Is Not A Pipe (The Treachery of Images)

Hello my lovelies!!! Is everybody sending up good vibes that we get another amazing outfit and bounce in Hotlanta? I know I am! Give it to us Good Harry, we want it all night!

This fic has an age gap, she’s over 40, he’s just over 20. If you do not like this, I’m not offended. If you are intrigued, and like art, or UST, or juicy plotlines of deep POV-read on!

I could not do this, especially not as well(lmao), without my babes @nocontrolforlouis, @bleedinglove4h, and @dirtystyles-who is wonder at the banners that so beautifully adorn each chapter!

“Where are you?” Jo texted Ethan again.

“Mom, it’s handled, get ready.” She got an unreasonable 15 minutes later while she paced her bathroom and checked on what Zoe might be destroying several times. She had convinced herself that this was a very important situation and Ethan had said he was coming home. Audrey was busy and it’s not one of Colin’s appointed visitation times, so she knew not to ask him. Plus, after that comment about her ass in her yoga pants over two weeks ago, Jo had no interest in inviting him into her life, let alone her dating life.

Jo needed someone she could trust because Zoe was a threenager if she ever saw one.

 That little girl was full of opinions she couldn’t quite express and that huge influx of hormones she was getting about now, that Jo had heard was unmet in females again until puberty, made her full of feelings. Zoe insisted on expressing all of them loudly. She was a handful right now, even for Jo. Ethan may have had days like this, but the blur of parenting in her chaotic early 20’s had dulled the memory. Or, thankfully, her challenging child came when she was more prepared for her. In any case, her pint sized wonder had an attitude to outmatch a cast member on Made in Chelsea and was just as unreasonable.

Zoe also needed constant supervision at the moment. Jo was currently in the practice of knowing where she was in their house at all times and what weapons of minor destruction were at her disposal too. This had been brewing for some time, but it had become necessary for a normal sense of peace of mind starting about a week ago.

Jo had been working on grading her 2nd year technique submissions while watching her Sunday roast and decidedly not thinking about the shape of Harry’s lips or ass or how he had surpassed her in his technique and innovation as an artist and how she admired him, when she realized that she didn’t really know where her three year old was in the house at the moment. More worryingly, she had not heard a high pitched peep, let alone a squeal in too long. Jo dropped the iPad she had collected her submission’s on, including the piece Harry had sent after their frustrating meeting the other day, the one she mentally referred to as “Jo in the moon” and made her way to the play area. It was empty of life though the trail of destruction was clear. Jo cleared up five toys, as she tried to do in every room Zoe had wrecked, before checking her bedroom, again bereft, and the bathroom, also clear. 

She heard a chatter in her own bathroom then and wanted to freeze. The other day she had found that Zoe had billy goat-ed her way on to the counter from the toilet back and had crossed to the medicine cabinet where Jo safely kept her razor, or so She thought. This time the razor was not the problem. Instead, Zoe had found her way to the medicine cabinet and other trouble. In an effort to make herself feel better about being a woman in charge of her own destiny who made choices that were best for her, even if not what she wanted, Jo had recently sprung for the Ruby Woo Lippy instead of the Rimmel #1 she usually purchased.

So, of course, Zoe had found it and painted herself with it. The red stick had gone a long way, Jo imagined she could have had it for years, because there was enough of it to cover Zoe from her knees to her collarbones and beyond, including cold straight horizontal lines for eyebrows like she was Anger in Inside Out. Her daughter had taken one look from her place on the ruined bath mat, seen Jo’s incensed face, a less animated personification of anger and tried to run to hug off her mum’s rage. Jo, like any good mother in her best work clothes, stiff armed her like an American football player, and stripped herself before depositing a crying and sorry Zoe into a bath.

Jo had immediately called her friend Cidra with a glass of wine in hand. She could see her daughter was safe, but was far enough away to just watch. Jo needed to find the funny in the situation, as soon as possible, and Cidra would help. Because it was funny, Jo knew, even when it was your lipstick and your bath mat and your child. Cidra had laughed her ass off for minutes and convinced Jo to take pictures of the remnants of the waxy red dye all over Zoe. She had also declared that Jo desperately needed a night out, and “some dick to wind you down, god you are wound up tighter than my mother in law’s arsehole.” This and the 10 minutes since disaster had Jo laughing to.

It remained funny when Zoe’s chest and especially her eyebrows where red for better than a week.

For all these reasons, Jo wanted a trustworthy babysitter to watch her baby while she went on this blind date.

Jo had a date. She’d finally let Cidra do her work.

Her first since Colin had charmed his way into her diary, then heart, then bed. She was fairly certain that order was important. Had the sex come before the feelings, she may have taken a pass. And then it would only be awkward when they ran into each other at university functions, not Tuesdays and every other weekend.

So, this date. Jo was trying her best to be excited. But, her motives were totally suspect. She was going out with William, Or Wills, as Cidra called him, because she needed to meet a man more of an adequate age. Somebody that checked the same bracket as her on those bloody questionnaire’s one filled out too often. Not because she wanted to necessarily. The dinner would be fine, especially if he paid. But she might be at the age where the free-ish meal was not worth it.

To make any of this wishful dating work, she needed a trustworthy babysitter though. And luckily, her boy was supposed to be home. But he was very late. Jo was just about to go see what Zoe was into, when her toddler ran into her bathroom with her tiny collectibles in her right fist, and the bunny Harry had sent to her for Easter with Ethan in the other. Zoe’s name was embroidered on the ear. Jo smiled and then bit her lip. She would not be endeared by that man. That boy, she mentally reminded herself, because he was sooo young. And even though he acted like more of a man than the supposed one she had exchanged wedding vows with, especially the last time she had seen him, he was still too young. Point blank and period.

Well, not the last time she had seen him. Several days ago, a few hours before she had finally texted Cidra to take her up on the great guy she had for her, Jo had seen Harry on campus. And he had been a sight. His hair was a little ramshackle, could use a wash, as it was speckled with paint and not a little greasy, still she wanted to touch it. He was also wearing the craziest flower button down, it was a Hawaiian shirt, but more vivid, and his ripped knee skinny jeans and Chelsea boots. His outfit was eye catching, but the thing that Jo could not look away from was his company at the school coffee shop. He sat with a sweet faced blonde of his own age who looked quite smitten. Jo felt like an interloper when she found a small alcove to stand in to watch them. Harry had gotten up to grab their coffees and she got tender and catty when she saw the girl bite her lip and watch him walk to the counter. Then giggle.

Was he on a date? It looked like a date. The part that bothered her the most was that she was decidedly bothered. Harry should be on a date with a girl from school, he should be smiling like he was when he gently brought her coffee back to her, and of course the blonde was smiling and a little shy. Because this was still a new arena to both of them, unlike Jo, who had definitely dated, was now divorced and jaded.

Not so jaded that she stopped herself from calling Cidra. Or from wearing the daring trouser boot combination. The slim fitting trousers were new, but the over the knee boots were an impulse buy on the internet when she was sad about turning 41. It had been over a year and they had never made it onto her body. The blousy white wrap top felt silky against her skin and the bralette was her own sexy secret. Because she needed a confidence boost going into this thing. And, well, she frankly usually forewent underpants, so lingerie had to be special to be worn much at all. Though she did see the necessity of a bra. Especially when Ethan hit 12 and told her she was to wear one at all times. She did have a boy, it made sense. She made a face at that memory while she kept getting ready, the sound of her curling iron ticking on and on until it hit temperature ringing in her ear. Her hair felt smooth and wrapped around the barrel lightly while she prepared herself and tried to look at her progress across her head, not her bitten lip or furrowed brow. Jo put her hair up in to a full ponytail with swooping side pieces, smoked out her eye a little and threw on a nude Lippy.

It would do, she decided while looking in the mirror. Now she just needed her son, who had once again answered a text with his own version of chill mom. Zoe was playing at her feet now too, she’d snuck in silently and Jo almost stepped on her little hand. That child was way to stealthy. Either Jo was in her head worse that she thought, or she was going to be in even bigger trouble when that kid decided to be sneaky on purpose.

She made her way to the fridge to have some water to calm herself down and thought she heard a knock at the back door. That was curious, the only person who knocked was, “Harry?” She gaped at him when she got the door. He looked good, if out of place, with his hair down around his shoulders and an old Rolling Stones tee and his signature jeans. Dammit, this was gonna be awkward. Ethan had better be right behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

Harry looked her up and down and narrowed his brow. “Ethan got a date he’s been hoping for, said you needed a hand. And I said I’d lend it. I figured that Colin skipped out on you. Then thought maybe we could paint a little.” He looked her over and her skin heralded his eyes progress by getting all excited, the hair follicles standing at attention wherever his eyes landed. “But, you don’t look like you have university business.”

Jo felt miffed for a minute, there was nothing wrong with her outfit. She supposed it was inappropriate for school stuff, but it fit well and she liked it.

Harry smirked then, “oh! I know where you are off to-Girl’s night??” His smiled hopefully and she didn’t return it. His face fell a little then and his wide eyes looked so hopeful that she almost lied to him. Almost.

“Um, that sounds like more fun, but, no, I, well” spit it out she thought, he’s not your boyfriend, you only kissed the once, and he went out too. “I was set up by a friend.”

His face truly fell then, and his lips thinned into a line, like the one they had crossed. “Like a date.” It wasn’t a question.

Jo guiltily nodded and was ready to shove her fist in her mouth when Harry looked at his booted feet then gave her a false grin and changed the subject, “where’s my girl then?”

“Um, she was in my bathroom. Let me get her. I didn’t really write out any instructions, cuz I thought Ethan was watching her.” And he should know how to take care of her, he was a grown man.

“That’s alright, Miss Jo. I got her.” His back was to her, and he sounded tired, then he seemed to realize he shouldn’t be going into her bedroom and the doorbell rang. Did jo send Harry to the door, where her date he seemed to be bothered by was-or to her messy bathroom where she was sure there was a bra or two on the floor?

“Would you mind answering the door, and I’ll go make sure Zoe hasn’t painted herself with lipstick, again.” Oh that drew the dimples. “I’ll show you the picture I took so it could be funny, as opposed to rage inducing.”

“Please.” He nodded politely and Jo hated it.

Zoe was playing in her make up, but luckily it was the brushes, she looked a little messy, but cute.

“Guess who’s here bub?” She asked with extra enthusiasm.

“Tan!” Dammit-Jo had told her to soon. She’d have to ask Harry if her son was coming home after his hot date. She wanted to be pissed about him sending Harry and making it awkward, but she couldn’t. How was Ethan to know that she and his best mate were doing a tango around each other?

“Not Tan, bub! Hopefully soon, but today you get to hang out with Harry.” Jo sat her down before she fell from wiggling around so much.

And Zoe took a couple seconds to grieve the absence of her brother before launching herself like a disturbed bottle of coke at “Arry!”

Who stood with his arms crossed and his brow narrowed. The perfect shape and color of his lips was hidden by the straight line he had thinned them into. Beside him was who she had to assume was William.

He was about the same size as Harry, perhaps a little more robust in frame. He had a clean, classic haircut with a touch of curl in the dark blonde locks. His eyes were a milk chocolate brown and best of all, he had a full groomed beard. Had you asked Jo to describe her type of guy, and Cidra had, he would be it. No wonder Cidra was so keen to get them out together.

“Arry!” Zoe was happily at his feet and he thawed a touch to reach down and pick her up.

“Hey bug! What do you want to play tonight?” He tried for the level of enthusiasm he usually gave her. Jo could hear the false note in it, like she was a producer with headphones on and everybody else could be distracted by the backing vocals.

“Puppets!” Zoe raised her hands up and Harry looked bewildered for just second. He looked at Jo and she smiled at him. She wouldn’t have described Harry when asked her type then, but now she might, lanky and tall with long hair and beautiful olive skin and deep dimples and green, green eyes. Maybe she couldn’t even dream him up until she saw him grown into himself.

“She saw a puppet show at the library, so I got her a few and we’ve been using her kitchen set as a stage. Stuck a blanket over it.” Harry laughed at her description and he looked so beautiful.

A throat cleared and Jo remembered why Harry was here in the first place. She turned to her date. “Sorry, I’m unforgivably rude!! Jo Smith” she extended her hand. He took it and pulled her in a bit, keeping his arm across his stomach, so she had to enter his space bubble.

“William Sullivan, people call me Will, or brave ones, Sully. I bet you are a brave one! Cidra has been talking about you for ages and she told not a lie!” And he smiled appreciatively and his accent, maybe Belfast, was lovely, and he was handsome and just a bit younger than her, maybe 3 years, and perfect.

But Jo found she was fighting with herself to keep her eyes on her date and not watch Harry to see how he was feeling.

This was a good idea. She needed to go on a date with somebody her own age, in the same life stage. Not someone so young. Harry may make a great babysitter, but it would be totally unfair to thrust him into any kind of parenting role. Jo had been a parent at Harry’s age, you missed out on a lot. She would not take that from him, especially for a child not his own.

She was also miles ahead of herself. Harry was seeing a sweet faced undergrad and she was going on a lovely date with a very handsome man.

They had only kissed once.

Her eyes cut to Harry. He was looking at Zoe, but his face was a little red. He returned her gaze then and Jo wanted to be 3 inches tall. Felt it. That was the least charitable look he had ever given her.

“Are you ready, then? Need to grab a bag or anything?”

“Oh, sorry,” Jo was still looking at Harry while she said it, but she was answering both of their questions. ‘Sorry’ she mouthed again at Harry and he bit his lip and nodded.

Jo turned with an excuse me and grabbed her bag.

Dinner was lovely, it was.

William was lovely, he was.

He was educated and cerebral, but in no way pretentious. He had a working knowledge of art and even had been to a Jenny Seville exhibition Jo wanted to see herself. But the minute she thought of Seville’s art she thought of the way the flesh of Harry’s women looked, how he created some kind of meld between landscape and flesh and all of it seemed to be in motion, alive.

He made her feel alive. Her bones sing and hair scream and skin dance.

William sat across from her and he was more adequate in every department. He was of a certain age, she wouldn’t feel like she was cheating him of some experiences and forcing others upon him. There was no ethical questions surrounding him. Jo would not get fired it she was caught with William. Not unless she fucked him in front of her classes. Also, she wasn’t his advisor. There were so many inequalities between them. Harry was her protege, for fuck’s sake. That made her chuckle, but it must have been well timed, because William smiled like he was encouraged and she felt guilty but continued to let her mind wander. She may have introduced Harry to his inner artist, but he was light years ahead of her now. He could make a career of his talent. And she believed he would.

Last but not least, in fact most, was Ethan. How does one tell your barely grown son you are dating his best mate?

You don’t.

And if it was just a sexual thing, not worth it. Sex was lovely, but most certainly not worth upsetting her son over. Certainly no sex she had ever had. She looked across the table to William’s wide eyes and raised brows and knew she had missed a question.

“I’m sorry, what?” She blushed.

“Would you like desert? We could share?"he raised one brow.

Her distraction was totally unacceptable and Jo should say yes and cozy up to the perfectly lovely man. "Actually, I’m really sorry to say this, but I’m feeling unwell. I’m gonna head out, call an Uber.”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I’ll get the check and get you home.” He looked around for their server and Jo almost hurrahed aloud when the lady was nearby. Her heels were burning to go. She was already formulating her excuse for why this wasn’t going to work.

The drive home was silent, William put on a playlist from his phone and she really liked every song that came on. Even found herself singing along to the “The Freshman”. William joined her and she smiled, maybe they could try this again and she would feel something for him and her focus could come back to reality. Maybe?

Harry probably didn’t even know that song.

Once outside her home, she didn’t have the chance to get her door open, because Will moved like lightening to get it for her and he took her hand to walk her to the front of her house.

“Jo, can I call you in a couple months?” He asked when they got the the covered step at her door.

“Huh?” Jo thought for sure she would be turning down another date or basically shaking hands and parting ways. She was amazed that wasn’t the conclusion after her inattention.

“Cidra told me about your divorce. And, well I’ve been there myself, so I guessed we would see how it went before we tried to do it again. I’d like to take you out again. But only when you are ready.” His eyebrow on the left was raised.

He was lovely, dammit. Jo bit her lip and nodded. “Please call me in a few months, hopefully I’ll be in a place where I can appreciate how wonderful you are.”

Will smiled at that and she felt better about basically ignoring him their whole date. Jo let him assume it was her ex husband and not her babysitter causing the wandering mind.

He leaned in then and kissed her cheek and she returned the gesture and turned to open her door. She watched him get in his car and then closed the door, put on the latch and leaned against it with her eyes closed to gather herself before going to relieve Harry. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him. Or how awkward their exchange would be.

When her eyes opened and he was right in front of her with a hurricane face she clutched her chest. “Jesus, Harry, you scared me!” She whispered, because Zoe had better be asleep.

“Sorry,” he said with the cruelest smile Jo had ever seen on his face. It twisted and turned across his pretty mouth like churning clouds. “Did I interrupt your reverie?”

“My what?” Jo was lost.

“Looked like you were thinking on the kiss your suitable man gave you.” Suitable- that was a spot on word. Harry’s voice was a rumble of thunder when you didn’t see the lightening strike.

Jo pulled a face at him. “Not that it’s your business,” she moved around him to hang her purse and bag on the coat rack. And turned to stare at him with some weather of her own. Hands on hips, “but I didn’t kiss him.”

Harry scoffed then and walked back into the studio, throwing a “whatever Jo, I saw you.”

Jo went after him. No way was he getting away with being a little immature shit about this. “Listen, Harry, I get that this was awkward, I had no intention of you witnessing my date like I had to witness yours—”

“What date? I haven’t been on a date?”

“The one in the coffeehouse with the sweet blonde thing who looked right chuffed to be getting coffee with you.” He was facing her and she realized his shirt was half buttoned and he was holding his coat ready to go, and that he had been painting. His shirt had speckles of gold.

“Liz?” Harry looked puzzled.

“I don’t need to know her name!” Jo stamped her foot.

“Well I know his! And I watched him kiss you, since you lied about it.”

“Were you watching me?” Jo drew her chin back in question.

Harry looked heavenward. “Of fucking course I was watching you. I’m always bloody watching you! For any sign you want me! But I saw how you were with him! Could he have run to your door any faster?”

“Don’t mock him for being a gentleman!” Jo was livid.

“I’ll mock him if I want! And you don’t think I’d be a gentleman to you? I have been a gentlemen to you. Trying to let you call all the shots. I’d be whatever you wanted except what you think you need!” He was almost shouting and Jo shushed him.

“And what do I think I need?” Jo whisper yelled.

“Somebody older! Which I can’t be! But, Jo, you could be out with him still and instead you are hear yelling with m—”

“Well! That’s because I fucking want you instead, isn’t it!”

At that, the lightening struck right between them and the electricity closed the circuit and Harry had her face in his hands and her mouth on his and was picking her up to lay her on the canvas on her studio floor.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “An Egg-cellent Disaster” (Rated PG13)

Sebastian suffers a bout of PTSD when Isabelle invites Kurt and their family to an upscale egg hunt. (3308 words)

Notes: This isn't a re-write, but I wrote one similar for K*laine.

Part 38 of Daddies.

Read on AO3.

“Ugh. Can you get PTSD from an Easter egg hunt? I’m asking for a friend,” Sebastian says, glancing over his shoulder as he leads his husband, his son, and his son’s service dog towards the swankiest gathering of New York’s elite that he’s seen in a long time. This isn’t normally how they spend Easter, and if it were up to him, they would have done what they always do – color eggs and hide them around their house, bake Kurt’s mom’s special braided Easter bread, sit on the sofa and watch their little boy eat too many jelly beans until he vibrates into another dimension. They’d run him around the yard until he passed out from exhaustion, then lock themselves in their bedroom and have some adult fun with the ears and tail of an old bunny costume Kurt’s parents sent them one year. But ever since Kurt got his promotion at Vogue, they’ve been attending more events like this over the holidays – outlandish affairs that required them to dress in more-expensive-than-usual attire and rub elbows with the upper crust.

It’s how Sebastian spent a good portion of his own childhood, so it should be old hat to him by now. But the older he gets, the more he values his quiet life. And things like this, which Kurt handles with the grace and energy of a professional socialite, have begun to wear on him.

He can’t blame Kurt for this one. He didn’t choose this. He didn’t even know egg hunts of this caliber existed.

It was his boss Isabelle’s idea.

Sebastian loves Isabelle. Kurt owes her a ton for giving him his big break right after he graduated high school, when he’d moved to New York with no other plan than to survive, which means Sebastian owes her, too.

After this, though, Sebastian might consider declaring them even.

“Having flashbacks?” Kurt teases, taking his hand as they pick their way through the grass over to a roped off area. From what he can see, it’s roughly about the size of two football fields end to end, which Kurt finds astounding since half of the children here look barely old enough to walk yet.

How are they going to cover the length of one football field, not to mention two? They’ll be huddled in one corner, whining over a dozen plastic eggs, leaving an entire section of grass completely unexplored.

“You can say that,” Sebastian says, stopping when Thomas chooses a spot and plops down in the grass. “My parents took me and my brother to one of these stupid hunts every single year. You’d think it would be fun. I mean, it was at the country club, there were other kids, eventual chocolate. But it was never fun.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t just getting together with our friends and looking for eggs. It was a competition. Our parents were pitting their kids against each other to see whose family was better. But by the end, the other kids didn’t matter. For my parents, it became me against my brother.” Sebastian stops the story there, stops short of telling Kurt exactly how far his parents’ disappointment in him went. He’ll tell Kurt one of these days. But now is not the time. Not in front of Thomas. “It was kind of traumatizing.”

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Oh, Sebastian. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have found a way to bow out.”

“Because you always get so excited when Isabelle invites you to these things. I didn’t want you to miss it. It’s important to you.”

“Yeah, but you’re more important. One of the most important.”

“You can make it up to me later,” Sebastian suggests, leaning in close so Thomas won’t hear. “You know … nakedly?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he didn’t expect anything less. “Look, Isabelle hasn’t seen us yet. Maybe we can …”

“Kurt! Sebastian! Oh, thank goodness you could make it! I was scared you’d get caught in the holiday traffic!”

Kurt sighs. He had always referred to Isabelle as his ‘fairy godmother’ in part because of the dreams she’d been able to help him realize, but also because of her impeccable timing.

It was close to occult.

Kurt mouths sorry to his husband for getting his hopes up while his boss is too far away to notice.

“Isabelle! We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Kurt feels his husband grimace as he greets his boss with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. “We actually came up yesterday and rented a room not too far from here to make sure we’d get here on time.”

“Fabulous!” she says, kissing Kurt and then moving on to Sebastian. “Make sure you send me the bill!”

“You know I will.” Kurt watches Isabelle move on to Thomas and Hepburn. Thomas may not like being kissed, but he loves Isabelle as much as his parents do, so he sits still and lets her fuss over him, coo about how cute and grown up he looks, so much like his fathers in his smart grey slacks and navy blue button down. “So, what are the rules here?” Kurt asks, searching the grounds for a sign, a poster, a handout, something. “Is there a time limit? Are the kids separated by athletic ability? Or age?”

Kurt isn’t a huge fan of things like Easter egg hunts or baby races. He doesn’t have the patience to handle large congregations of kids and parents. Being a member of the PTA at his son’s school is the farthest he’ll stretch. And even though he wanted to come today, he was hoping to constrict their revelry to family members only, so if they can find their own section of the park to conduct their Easter biz without having to socialize, even with the elite, that would suit him fine.

“You’re making this too complicated!” Isabelle laughs under the assumption that Kurt is joking. “It’s just an Easter egg hunt, Kurt!”

“We usually confine our egg hunting to our house, maybe the front porch,” Sebastian says.

“Yeah. Besides, tromping through the grass in search of hard boiled eggs isn’t the way my father and I spent Easter.”

“How did you spend Easter?” Isabelle asks, realizing that after knowing Kurt for over a decade, she has no clue.

“The way many a well-rounded, musical theater inclined child did. I watched Brigadoon on AMC.”

Sebastian side-eyes his husband with a scowl that makes Isabelle snicker. “How in the hell did you and I ever get together?”

“You decided to stop being a royal idiot about pretty much everything in your life and do something smart for once.”

Isabelle guffaws so loudly at that, Hepburn’s ears prick up.

“Wow …” Sebastian says, mouth agape. “I … don’t know how to respond to that.”

“A simple you’re absolutely right, love of my life, I will never doubt your incredible wisdom in all things again will suffice.”

“Not the direction I was going to go, but okay. As long as it gets me some ass after this is over with.”

Kurt elbows his husband.

Isabelle snorts. “Come on, guys! Let’s enjoy ourselves! It’s a beautiful day! The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and I think the Easter bunny just arrived!”

“The Easter bunny!?” Thomas pipes up from his seat in the grass. “Where?”

Sebastian, Kurt, and Thomas take a gander at the festivities around them heralding the soon-to-be start of the egg hunt. Indeed, the Easter bunny had arrived. But this was not your average, human-sized, department store cottontail dressed in a pastel vest and straw top hat, carrying a basket of colorful, candy-filled plastic eggs. This Easter bunny is easily seven feet tall, dressed in what could only be described as a vintage suit of aubergine brocade with matching purple top hat; a tall, white plume tucked inside the olive green hat band; a gold monocle over his left eye; carrying a hand-carved mahogany walking stick in one hand, and a Moses basket in the other, filled to bursting with eggs, jelly beans, foil-wrapped chocolates, and trinkets and tidbits that catch the light and twinkle like gemstones. He’s surrounded by an entourage of handlers, each wearing an outfit to complement the bunny’s own and carrying baskets of the same treats to hand out to the kids. The bunny and his team walk the perimeter of the field, and a parade forms behind him – adorable little boys and girls bedecked in their Sunday best, dresses and suits that Kurt saw advertised in Vogue for close to four figures. But some of them are dressed in honest to God athletic wear.

Those boys and girls look downright intimidating.

“I don’t know.” Kurt eyes five children dressed in matching track suits and running shoes. “Some of the people here look awfully competitive.”

“That’s an understatement,” Sebastian adds. Back in his day, the kids and parents were competitive as fuck. But this – this is on a whole other level.

“Of course they are! The prizes here are outstanding! Last year, they hid a $10,000 Tiffany engagement ring in one of the eggs!”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up so far, they disappear somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. “Really?”

“Sounds about right,” Sebastian mutters, shivering with the memory of having his hand stepped on by no less than three pairs of dress shoes in an effort to reach a particularly difficult to get at egg. All the kids knew that the farther the lie, the better the prize. That was something the organizers of the egg hunt used to sing as they released the children, like hounds, to sniff out the treats.

He suddenly feels queasy, stomach acids sloshing left to right as he shoves that little ditty aside. But even with it pushed out of the way, he can’t help feeling sick.

Why were they there again?

“They go all out - luxury vacations, spa packages, theater tickets … but don’t worry,” Isabelle says when she notices how pale Sebastian has become. “The emphasis here is on fun.”

“Do they know that?” Kurt asks, motioning with his chin towards a nearby family dressed entirely in Under Armour from The Rock’s latest collection – mother, father, and their five-year-old daughter staring down Thomas like a lion stares down an easy meal.

Under Armour – proud sponsor of Easter and good-natured family fun, Kurt thinks spitefully. He wonders if Isabelle has the same thought as she quickly pulls out her iPhone and starts snapping some pics.

Their attentions are directed upward by the sound of a helicopter arriving, circling the area above their heads.

“Okay, why is that here?” Kurt asks. It’d be easy to assume it’s paparazzi, but there isn’t supposed to be any here. That’s part of the appeal. There are guards posted everywhere to ensure the privacy of the families participating. But they can’t be everywhere at once. It’s possible one or two might get through.

“It’s here to drop more eggs from above! Those are the ones people really go for. Some of them are made out of solid gold!” Isabelle explains, nearly drooling after the words solid gold.

“What the---? That’s insane! Even my parents’ country club never went that far!” Sebastian envisions something the size of a chicken egg made of gold plummeting from the sky and smacking him on the head. That would definitely leave a dent in his skull, at the very least.

Could he survive that impact?

“Ouch!” Kurt kneels beside his son and covers his head protectively while keeping an eye on the sky. “Isn’t this a little excessive? I mean, we have the money to go to whatever spa we want. That’s one of the perks of being rich.”

“That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen!” Sebastian says, pointing towards the sky. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember signing a waiver!” He joins his husband, son, and Hepburn, hovering over them in an effort to protect them all when he swears he hears the copter swoop down. “What kid needs a Tiffany engagement ring anyway? This sounds like it’s going to turn into a blood bath!” He meets Kurt’s gaze, his husband’s eyes wide, unsure what to do about this, about this mess he’s gotten them into. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“No!” Isabelle pleads. “Just … give it a few minutes! Please? An hour at the most? I promise we’ll have fun! I’ve been looking forward to getting you out here for this Easter egg hunt ever since I found out you’d adopted Thomas!”

Kurt shakes his head slowly. He is here for work, but that shouldn’t include putting his life, and the lives of his family, in danger! Isabelle is his friend. She won’t make him stay if they’re uncomfortable, especially considering Thomas’s history of anxiety. But there’s a look in her eyes he hasn’t seen before. Not crazy, per se, but slightly unhinged? But not in a bad way? “I don’t know …”

“We’re at a big, private park. There’s a playground and a lake not too far from here. If you don’t like the Easter egg hunt, we can go over there and Thomas can play. But can we give this a try first? Please?”

Kurt looks from a worried Sebastian, awkwardly shielding their heads, to Hepburn, instinctively on alert, back to Isabelle, and sighs. Isabelle means well. She’s from a wealthy family in Columbus, so she probably went to egg hunts like this one, same as Sebastian. Perhaps her experiences were better. With no kids of her own, she probably tries to strong arm all the employees with kids to come to this thing so she can relive her childhood.

Looking at the expression on her face, she seems nothing if not sincere.

In the end, for Kurt, it’s all about Thomas. And his son - playing in the grass, singing a song about the Easter bunny that he learned in school, without a care in the world - seems to be enjoying himself so far.

They’re already here. They drove for hours to get here. And it is a stunning location. They can stick it out for a while, collect a few eggs, dodge the helicopter, grab some punch and cookies over at the refreshment table, and then retire to the playground. They brought Hepburn’s toys with them. They can tire Thomas and his dog out in one fell swoop. It’ll be fine. It might even be fun.

If anything, the pictures will be precious.

“Alright,” Kurt says, feeling the weight of his husband deflating a bit in defeat. He knows that Sebastian was hoping this was their out, and on any given day, falling solid gold projectiles would be. But Kurt is in the unfortunate position of having to juggle the feelings of multiple people that he loves. “We’ll give it an hour.”

“Yay!” Isabelle says. “That’s all I ask.”

“But after that …”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Lads and lasses! Step right up to the starting line! The 53rd Annual Hampton Bay Easter Egg Hunt is about to begin!”

“Starting line?” Sebastian repeats, looking left and right. “What starting line?”

Kurt looks around, too, in confusion. Starting line? He doesn’t remember seeing anything marked starting line. There was only the rope boundary and …

Uh oh …

While they’d been discussing staying or going, they hadn’t noticed that the parade of kids and parents following the Easter bunny had circled round and stopped about a hundred feet away … right where the rope Kurt, Sebastian, Thomas, and Hepburn passed to get in had been set up. There they stood – a mob of adults and children lined up in starting positions, brows furrowed in deep concentration, ready to charge, like a re-enactment of The Hunger Games if the eccentrically dressed inhabitants of the Capitol City were the ones on the attack.

Sebastian, Kurt, Thomas, and Isabelle didn’t know.

Nobody told them.

Nobody warned them.

Nobody seemed to care that they were sitting in the grass, dead center, in the way.

“On your marks …”

“Daddy …” Thomas grabs his father’s hand in both of his and squeezes tight.

“… get set …”

“No, no, no, no …” Sebastian springs to his feet, gearing up to drag the lot of them off the field before the announcer can get to Go!

But he never does.

And not because he’s waiting for them to vacate the field. (Who knows if the man even sees them?) But because the start of the hunt is proclaimed by a gun shot.

The sharp pop hits the air.

After that, the roar of hundreds of feet hitting the ground, along with the frantic screaming of children, is deafening. At the same time, the helicopter above releases its bounty. Plastic eggs rain down around them, exploding on contact, spreading chocolate shrapnel within a foot of where they land. One hits Sebastian on the top of his head.

“Ow! God!” he wails, rubbing an already forming bump with his fingers. He doesn’t know what the heck was inside that thing, but his head begins to throb.

No way is he going to stay there if something made of solid gold is headed his way.

“Run!” Sebastian says, pulling his husband to his feet and getting pelted by another plastic egg in the process. He sees this one where it lands, spraying jelly beans left and right, and he starts laughing.

“Sebastian!” Kurt cries. Hepburn barks once in warning and yanks Thomas the shortest distance across the field. Kurt covers the boy’s head with his jacket and bolts, leaving Sebastian behind in a mad dash for their car. “Sebastian! For God’s sake! Hurry up!”

Sebastian runs to catch up, but three steps in, a featureless gold blur hits the ground hard, and his foot gets caught in the hole it makes. He falls to his knees, laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. Spoiled little rich kid with daddy issues. That’s what Kurt had called him once back in high school – back when they hated one another. Little did Kurt know how close to the mark that comment hit, or how deeply the already scarred over wounds went. But the reason Kurt didn’t know, not for a long time, is because Sebastian had worked so hard to hide them, run away from them. He was going to grow up better than his upbringing. He was going to become a successful person, a successful parent, whether his own parents were proud of him or not. But all the things they did to break him down - Sebastian didn’t find a way to get rid of them. He simply carried them with him. And here he was – a husband and a father, scared of an Easter egg hunt! Granted, he was in very real danger of ending up with a concussion, but fuck the rest!

Isabelle was right! It’s a beautiful day! And regardless of the greedy horde about to trample him into the dirt, he was going to have the best day ever because he’s surrounded by people he loves!

People who will mourn him when he’s gone.

“Raise our son well, Kurt!” he chokes out over the howl of the raging onslaught. “And remember, I always loved you! Well, ninety-three percent of the time!”

Kurt turns to see his husband, red-faced with laughter, swallowed by the crowd, and despite being concerned for his safety, he can’t help laughing, too. He knows that in a few minutes the crowd will pass, and Sebastian will emerge the way he always does – cocky as hell, obnoxiously triumphant, and probably with a dozen of those golden eggs Isabelle was fiending over. “You’re a good man, Sebastian Smythe! You shall be missed!”

[kessielrg]

[Mighty No 9] High

Summary: My only regret about not finishing Heaven's Door (yet, if ever) was not fully realizing in story how gay Leilani and Ray were for each other. And yes, they were, it was in my notes. After two years, here's something to rectify that. MAJOR time skip and spoilers for Heaven's Door and its maybe sequel: Leilani is 18, and Ray is “mostly” stable. Rated T for some slightly obvious reasons, title stolen from the Whethan & Dua Lipa song 'High'.

Rating: T

Word count: 2,427 words

If you like the story, please consider donating through Ko-fi or Patreon!

Four years. Four years in a prison for a crime she did and did not commit.

Her trial had been cut short by a small, teensy little uprising that she hadn't been aware of at first. Her friends, however misguided, did not want her in that jail anymore so they fought to make a statement. They were defeated by someone whose maker she had no respect for. It was his fault she had been in prison for four years, wasn't it? It was his fault that her mother died during the Trinity Disaster, wasn't it?

Thankfully for her, the youngest of his creations had sympathy for her and now she was home. She could pretend nothing had changed -that these past four years were unadventurous and spent with friends and family- but that would have meant ignoring what he had done to her. How he messed up her life. How he couldn't look truth and cold facts in the face to publicly proclaim 'Yes, I was wrong about everything. I'll take the blame, if only this once at the hands of a young innocent.' But he never did and he never will; that was how Doctor William Blackwell worked.

A small growl emitted from the 18 year old's lips as she sliced her apple. She wasn't particularly hungry at this hour, but she skipped out on breakfast and lunch so she figured she had to eat something before she ultimately skipped out on dinner too. As she finished cutting the apple and was about to place the knife in the dishwasher, the young woman heard a sound. Something, or someone, was walking across her roof.

She ignored it, just like everything else that has happened to her so far.

Eventually, the noise did die down as Leilani made her way back to her room. The sliced apples on a plate that she ended up sitting on her bedstand. What nearly startled her this time was another knock, this one coming from the balcony door. Leilani raised an eyebrow and went to the door. She didn't even flinch when she opened the door to a red and orange robot with dark tan skin. The robot did not look pleased, maybe even uncanny to the wrong eye: to the world, this was Ray, the Vermillion Destroyer, but to Leilani that robot was as good as a girlfriend to her.

“Well hello there, Lamb Chop.” Leilani teased, ushering the robot inside.

“There are reporters everywhere outside this prison.” the robot replied in a dark voice. “It's as if they're waiting for a reason to convict you again.”

“Don't act so surprised.” the human yawned as she moved to her bed to sit. “You're the one that started that little revolution.”

Ray let out a small growl, following Leilani before standing right in front of her and looking her in the eye.

“I'll never forget it.” Ray vowed before pulling Leilani in for a fierce kiss.

. . .

The trial had been put on a permanent hold once Ray had stolen the young woman. In the glory of the moment, Ray had listened to Leilani's suggestion of going to Maine, and it wasn't until after when the two knew they were safe that the robot took a good look at the young woman. They were the only ones in that safe house, after all, and there was nothing else to do but stew upon their decisions and watch them unfold. What Ray hadn't counted on was the human aging process.

“You've changed.” Ray noted, the idea sounding a bit idiotic out loud. Of course humans change!

“Four years in juvie will do that to you.” Leilani retorted.

“No. Not that.” Ray hissed. “Your physical appearance has changed...”

The human raised a questioning eyebrow. “What of it?” she inquired.

Ray said nothing to retaliate, instead moving closer to the human. Leilani's skin seemed more… soft, inviting even. Without realizing it, Ray ran a curious hand down the side of Leilani's face. The human closed her eyes and held her breath; for what was something she didn't want to contemplate at the moment, not if Ray wasn't aware of what she was doing, anyway. There was no way that Ray could tell that the moment had become tense. Could she? Whatever the case, Ray could feel Lei's body clench. Weird… that never seemed to happen before.

“Do I scare you now?” the robot questioned, tilting her head rather methodically.

“No.” Leilani immediately declared. She hesitated for a moment, but she then added, “But I… I'd really like it if you… if you'd...”

“What?” Ray now demanded. She was standing even closer to the young woman now- the thing wasn't even sure if she was breathing anymore.

“I… I want you to… to touch me.”

“Am I not doing that already?” Ray growled, not seeing the point. Leilani's cheeks flushed such a deep shade of red that the robot wondered if it was normal. In feeling the increasing pulse rate of the human, it was likely that the answer was 'no.'

“In… intimately.” the young woman finally said. “I want you to… to touch me, intimately. Like… Like a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

Leilani swallowed back dry saliva as she gave a small nod. Ray cocked a curious eyebrow at this suggestion. The robot knew what kisses were, of course, first introduced to the concept four years prior by Leilani herself. Hmm… Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss…

Taking the decision to heart, Ray leaned forward just slightly and pressed her lips against the human's. They both immediately reeled backwards in surprise at the shock that passed through them. But Ray wasn't finished her investigation of the matter yet, she pulled Leilani into another kiss and pushed past that initial shock. Holding them there for quite some time, Ray pulled them away after some seconds had passed. She had learned what she wanted from the kiss, and it had left her… underwhelmed.

“You taste… different.” observed the Vermillion Destroyer in some way to say something about the current situation.

“That's because I'm not made out of xels.” Leilani teased. Ray growled before going in for a much deeper kiss this time. The taste of this young woman… it was indescribable. Not as filling as a xel, of course, but it seemed so much more alluring…

With each passing moment Ray was craving more and more of this woman. Her hands firmly griped at Leilani's waist, bringing her closer to Ray herself. The human retaliated by wrapping her arms around Ray's neck- she liked this, but it wasn't enough. There must have been something, anything, to make this growing desire be fulfilled. But what?

“Raychel...” Leilani gasped when she had the breath to do so. Hearing her name through the young woman's lips caused the robot to immediate freeze. That tone… It was different. It was new.

“What?”

Leilani, in between excited gasps, questioned to the robot, “Do you… do you know what lust is?”

. . .

Ray watched as Lei softly slept on her bed, properly tired from their… activities. The Vermillion Destroyer titled her head at the human; Leilani laid in such a way that made Ray notice her more womanly figure again. The thought of touching the human's rib and sliding her hand down to the hip made Ray flinch. Instead, the android got off of the human's bed and did the most menial thing she never would have considered doing otherwise; getting the mail.

Such an odd activity this was- thankfully the mail box was near the front door and not across the street, not that the Blaise family had much in way of neighbors in this area; not even paparazzi seemed to venture that far. As she went back inside, Ray looked at the mail to see what was delivered: a paid magazine for robotic creations showcased at the Battle Colosseum, some small adverts for local food joints, and a letter addressed to Leilani herself. Ray took an interest in this letter, now taking a closer look at the sender address.

SANDA Technologies, United States of America Division

Pleasanton California

She hadn't been aware of it, but Ray had stormed back to Leilani's bedroom. With the letter being crushed in one hand, Ray shook the human awake.

“Hmm…?” the flower slurred as she finally came to. “What's wrong?”

The Vermillion Destroyer did not answer directly, instead she presented the letter to Leilani. The human attempted to sit up, but opted against it, and took the letter from the robot. The first thing she noticed was the sender, a grimace painted itself on her face before she opened the letter. As she read its contents, her expression changed to a softer one but it still held some amount of disgust. Once she was done reading, she carelessly tossed the letter aside and flopped back on her bed.

“Magnus is fighting in the Colosseum soon.” she explained to Ray. “Sanda wants me to come for the match.”

“Why?” the robot immediately questioned.

“I don't know.” the human said, rolling over to her side. “Because it's been six months since the trial? Because he wants to see how the crowd will react when a child convict makes a public appearance? It's not like I have a choice- it's part of the sentence that the jury hath wrought upon me.”

“You're not going alone.”

Lei looked over at Ray. The robot had been firm in saying so, and although Leilani wasn't going to go alone anyway, the request had been genuine.

“You can't enter the Colosseum.” Lei reminded the Vermillion Destroyer.

“I'm aware.” came the prudent answer. At this, the human cocked an eyebrow in skepticism.

And just as she suspected, Ray started to backpedal on the idea once the day came. Sanda hadn't come yet, so the two hid themselves in an alleyway.

“I don't want you here.” Ray told the human with a growl. “We don't belong here.”

“Raychel,” Leilani softly purred, knowing this game all too well by now, “You know why I'm here and what it means to Magnus. You're not my only android friend you know...”

Ray gave another growl before forcing the human into an assertive kiss. With that last bit of defiance, the Vermillion Destroyer dashed out of sight. Leilani let out a sigh before adjusting herself a bit more to be scrutinized by the spectators in the colosseum today. Her head held high and a blank expression, Leilani entered the colosseum.

Ray knew her usual place in the Colosseum- high above everyone else in the rafters where only the birds tended to roost. From here, Ray could soak up any loose xel that came off the contestants. But most importantly, she could keep tabs on her flower as well. From here she could see all the nasty stares Leilani received from the other spectators; some even paid more attention to the flower than on the match itself. Justifiably so, but they did not stare because they found her as fascinating as Ray found her. They stared because they believed she was a public menace.

“And now the bot you've all been waiting for!” the announcer boomed over the speakers, “Mighty Number 9, BECK!!”

At the same time, both Ray and Leilani got an awful shock of disgust. Small and timid, said Mighty Number walked out into the main colosseum, waving at the crowd and blushing at the mere sight of so many spectators in the stands. Then Ray's processors froze when she realized that the Predator had located and stared directly at the flower in the stands. She could even see, so perfectly well, that the two had made direct eye contact and held it for an uncomfortable amount of time. The Predator's face paled; he knew. He knew what his family had done to the flower's life.

Beck shook his head, remembering where he was and what he was about to do, and allowed the match to continue on. He won the fight -no surprise from either Ray or Leilani- as waved at everyone as they cheered praise and threw various things at his feet. One thing in particular, a bouquet of roses, was caught by Beck and for a moment, he stood there as if he had never encountered a bouquet before. Beck looked back up at the stands before slowly starting to work his way over to the spectators.

The Vermillion Destroyer watched with increasing fury as the Predator made his way toward the flower, making his intent known by the paling in his face. What stopped the robot from doing down to destroy the Predator herself was Leilani's own frosty attitude toward the approaching Mighty Number.

Once he was close enough, Beck humbly offered the bouquet to Leilani. With his head bowed he tried to give an apology, but the spectators near the two had gotten louder- some were mad that he was giving the bouquet to her, others just wanted Beck's attention. Leilani refused the bouquet but Beck kept insisting she take them; his eyes held a desperate need to apologize, but hers were frosty and unwavering.

Perhaps knowing this made Leilani finally accept the bouquet; it wasn't Beck they were mad at, after all. The youngest Mighty Number gave her a small bow of thanks and quickly made his way out of the stands. When the crowd was allowed to leave the stands, Leilani tossed the flowers in the nearest trash receptacle, not caring in the slightest on who saw her. Ray looked on with a certain glee- she vowed that the next time she and the flower met up, she was going to give her gratitude quite generously.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

Leilani had to talk with Sanda after the match, but once she was finished with him she returned to the alleyway where Ray had been waiting. Immediately, the robot pinned the flower to the wall.

“He tried to apologize…” Ray mumbled as she buried herself in Lei's neck. “But you didn't listen.”

“Nope.”

“He thought he could make it better?” continued to bot, now trailing her lips across the human's collarbone for a certain spot.

“Never.” Leilani murmured, fidgeting slightly to help Ray.

“I'll kill anyone that gets near you.”

Leilani let out a gasp as Ray bit into her neck. The rush of pain mixed with adoration made the young woman moan. Regaining her composure as the Vermillion Destroyer lapped up the blood, Leilani replied with a soft, rather dark tone, “Good.”

[atlanticcanada]

Halifax building named after the construction crane that fell on it during storm

An apartment building in downtown Halifax that was under construction when a crane fell on it during post-tropical storm Dorian has been renamed after the disaster that made it famous.

Seymour Trihopoylos, one of the owners of the building that was to be called The Olympus, said today the building will instead be known as The Crane on South Park in recognition of the Sept. 7, 2019 collapse.

He says he, his father, mother, sister and brother-in-law -- the owners of Olympus Property Management Inc. -- have concluded the building would forever be remembered for what became a defining image of the fierce storm.

The 52-year-old developer said to attempt a different name would be futile, as it will "always be the building the crane collapsed on."

The residential tower's construction was delayed by more than a year after the crane from a construction site next door fell and damaged it.

However, units are now being listed for lease beginning May 1, at prices that range between $1,895 to $2,025 per month for a one-bedroom apartment and $2,595 to $2,845 for a two-bedroom apartment.

The developer says there were many sleepless nights as he and his family worked out the details of how to repair the damage after the crane's twisted remains were removed.

"The best part of the whole story is that there was no loss of life, and that the crane fell on a structure that was unoccupied, so there was no death or injury," he said.

"It hit our building and put us behind, but money and time will fix the building, whereas if we'd lost a single life, it would have been a disaster."

Initially, there was a state of emergency declared around the building for about two months after the crane collapse.

The provincial government said in November 2019 it would pay $2-million to clean up the collapsed crane and have the area reopened, with the former transportation minister saying the province planned to make efforts to recover the money.

A provincial report on the cause of the collapse is expected to be presented later this year.

In October 2019, a proposed class action lawsuit was launched to recover losses sustained by businesses and tenants against developers W.M. Fares Architects Inc., and W.M. Fares and Associates Inc., Lead Structural Formwork Ltd., of Moncton, N.B. -- the owner, operator and installer of the crane -- and Manitowoc Company Inc., the U.S.-based designer of the crane.

This report by The Canadian Press was first published March 9, 2021.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/30pqjp4

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 50: "HOT GIRLS II: MULTIPLE GIRLS IN THE BATHROOM WITH A BLACK GUY"

[josephkitchen0]

Food Preservation Examples: A Guide to Food Storage

I tell my friends there are two types of people: preppers and those who laugh at preppers. Why is preparing for a rainy day such a laughable concept? Is it outrageous to think the misfortunes that happen to millions of people could happen to you? In this article, we’ll discuss food preservation examples. And we’ll do it simply, by answering seven questions: who, what, when, where, how, why, and to what extent?

Who Should Store Food?

Everyone who eats food and wants to eat it in the future. Those that want to save money. People who have enough money now but realize they might not have as much if situations change.

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In November of 2011, fierce winds toppled power lines, igniting drought-stricken grass and brush in a residential area of Reno, Nevada. Within twelve hours the fire destroyed thirty homes. School was canceled as police, fire, and paramedic units struggled to contain the blaze. One person died, over 10,000 people were evacuated, 4,100 homes were without power and the governor declared a state of emergency. The fire came within two miles of my house. As I entered my neighborhood supermarket I encountered enraged customers. Frustrated managers and cashiers explained that the store had depended on emergency generators since midnight and couldn’t power the freezers and coolers. All cold or frozen food was discarded per health code. Angered that they had nothing to cook for dinner, the customers blamed the store instead of the current emergency.

Anyone can be left without power for hours or even weeks. Blizzards can confine people for days and it’s been claimed that a local supermarket can only sustain a community for 72 hours. Sustenance declines if the supermarket has to discard half of its stock.

What Exactly is Food Preservation?

The basic answer to what is food preservation; extending your food beyond its natural life through freezing, dehydrating, root cellars, canning, freeze-drying or dehydrating, or converting into products which last longer.

My mother preserved food from her garden. She didn’t know how to freeze dry food, and freeze drying food at home wasn’t the option that it is now with modern equipment. She grew it herself and bottled it in mason jars through water bath and pressure canning. The meat we raised ourselves sat within freezers. We consumed the food through the winter and in the spring she planted again. It was what her pioneering great-grandmothers had done. And now that I have the opportunity to garden my own yard, it’s what I do.

But you don’t have to be the one preserving the food to take advantage of it. Canned food allows consumers to enjoy meals without from-scratch preparation and to keep food for a long time. Some companies specialize in ready-to-eat meals such as pasta and chili while others market for emergency preparation. You can dehydrate fresh produce or purchase it already dehydrated. Developments in vacuum-packing systems allow dried and frozen products to last at least twice as long. Freeze-dried food can be purchased in bulk or small quantities, or you can purchase appliances for freeze drying food at home. And though frozen products have a limited life, especially in disaster situations, they can help with shorter-term needs.

What Foods Should You Store?

Store the foods you eat.

My friend Danielle spent all summer bottling fruit from the local gleaning project. She made applesauce, jalapeno and habanero jams, and prickly pear syrup. Her apartment cupboards overflowed with mason jars. And though her three young children loved the peaches and pears, they weren’t fond of hot pepper jam. Then a series of thunderstorms and flash floods struck. When the power outage continued through dinner time, she realized she had stored the wrong food. Her hungry children could not go to bed on just prickly pear syrup and Danielle did not have a working stove until the electricity came back on. What she needed was dry cereal, canned meals and vegetables, and bottled water. After that incident she slowly stockpiled nonperishable food as she could, buying extra cans of pasta or bottles of juice when she had spare cash.

If you don’t own a grain mill and don’t sprout grains, don’t stock your pantry with wheat. If your aging parent cannot consume much sodium, don’t rely on soups and canned vegetables. Without a wood stove or a yard where you can build a fire, dry beans might be difficult to consume in long-term power outages. And certainly, don’t break your budget acquiring a year’s worth of food at once when you could spend $50 per month at sales.

For a week or two, record what your family eats and how much it costs. Out of that list, consider what can be stored through available methods. Now add in items to replace your favorite perishable products. Use that as your guide for building your supply.

One prepper website advises storing soft grains, beans, pastas and mixes, coconut oil, apple cider vinegar, powdered milk, canned meat/tuna/vegetables/fruits, peanut butter, tea and coffee, ramen noodles, and herbs and spices. Another website lists canned salmon, dried beans, brown rice, bulk nuts, peanut butter, trail bars, energy and chocolate bars, beef jerky, coffee/tea, and sea vegetables or powdered super greens. And Business Insider lists ten foods that would survive an apocalypse as honey, pemmican jerky, MREs (military-style meals ready to eat), hard liquor, peanut butter, Twinkies, rice, powdered milk, and ramen noodles.

Don’t forget to store what you enjoy, such as desserts and hard candy. Most situations where you need that food will be dismal and something sweet gives you a moment of indulgence during a hard time.

And especially don’t forget clean drinking water plus a way to acquire more.

When Should You Preserve Food?

Gardeners advise friends that they will be busy from August through October for food storage season. That’s when my garden pushes out the tomatoes, peppers, and squash. I harvest livestock year-round, with a lull in summer since 100-degree weather is bad for hatching chicks and pregnant rabbits.

But the best time to preserve food is when you can get the food.

Tactic #1: Grow the food yourself or align with local gardeners. When it’s ripe and ready, preserve it ASAP. If your tomatoes ripen slowly and you want to make a big batch of sauce, simply wash the fruit and stash it in freezer bags. Once the season is over you can thaw and cook down to a delightful marinara then bottle or freeze it.

Tactic #2: Buy seasonal produce and can, freeze or dry it yourself. This takes advantage of fruits and vegetables at their tastiest, cheapest, and most nutritious. In my section of the world that is usually June for strawberries, July for peppers, peaches, and corn, August for pears and tomatoes, and September for potatoes and onions as warehouses clear out last year’s stock in preparation for this year’s harvest. During holidays I can find sweet potatoes, winter squash, and cranberries at lower prices than the rest of the season. Instead of buying enough sweet potatoes to roast with butter and marshmallows I’ll stock up with twenty pounds and keep them in a cool, dry place for several months. If they start to go bad I’ll roast them then freeze.

Tactic #3: Hit sales and clearance racks. These happen year round and the trick is knowing where to go. Watch local ads for case lot sales. Scout out discount shelves. Since stores cannot sell spoiled goods or anything past the sell-by date, most food is still okay to use if frozen or dehydrated right away. Whenever I visit the supermarket I make my rounds and pick up items I can store and use. Bread reduced to a dollar per loaf resides in the freezer and comes out as the family needs it. Using this tactic we’ve enjoyed portobello stuffed ravioli with Parmesan cheese and artisan sausage for two dollars per plate.

Tactic #4: Purchase from food storage companies. Though some distributors offer 5-gallon buckets containing a month of dried goods, you don’t have to purchase all at once. As your budget allows, order fifty pounds of rice or a #10 can of flour. Gradually build your supply.

Where Do You Store Food?

I live in a two-bedroom Depression Era house. We have no pantry, garage, or basement. My home canning decorates bookshelves built into the wall. I converted a half-bath into a storage room by closing the toilet, setting shelves over it, and placing lightweight products atop. One freezer sits at the end of the breezeway, blocking a door we never used anyway, and another rests beside the dining room table.

If you don’t want a pantry in your living room, convert a closet or just put the food wherever you can. One friend built a platform from boxes of #10 cans in his family room, draped a rug over it, and set the sofa on top. My sister stacked bottled water in her apartment’s coat closet, set her shoes on top, and let her coats dangle over. Another friend stacks boxes, sets plywood atop, then drapes an attractive cloth to make an end table.

Winter squash, apples, and root vegetables should be kept in a cool, dark place. Chest or upright freezers can stay outside if sheltered from wet or extreme weather; a covered porch or carport is perfect if you trust your neighbors. Home canning withstands most temperatures above freezing, but remember that heat can decrease shelf life. Aluminum cans take the most abuse and dented products are still good as long as they haven’t been opened and are used before the “best before” date. Keep in mind factors like rodents, insects, humidity, dishonest neighbors and possible problems with weather.

How Do You Preserve Food?

Find the food preservation method that works best for you.

Home Canning: This method is best for homesteaders, gardeners and those with special diets. My friend Kathy pressure-cans soups because her elderly father cannot consume much sodium. When her father travels, he takes jars of soup so he doesn’t endanger his health with commercial food. If you want to can your own food, first educate yourself on safe methods. Home canning can save money but the initial cost is steep. New jars, lids, pots, and pressure cookers can quickly reach hundreds of dollars. Earthquakes or relocating to new homes can be hard on glass jars. For reliable instructions on how to can food at home, trust the Ball website.

Freezing: Probably the quickest and easiest method, this involves buying foods and stashing them at 0 degrees in freezer-safe containers. Frozen food is quickly thawed and can take minimal preparation, often without heating. Foods that are not safely home canned can be frozen. But though a fully stocked freezer can last up to a week in a power outage if the freezer isn’t opened, each moment without electricity compromises the food. If you want long-term and dependable storage, do not rely on freezers, especially if you live in hurricane-prone areas or anywhere with sketchy power service. Find out how to freeze different foods at Stilltasty.com.

Dehydrating: Home dehydrators cost between $20 and $300. Herbs, green vegetables, fruits, and some meats are safe to dehydrate then either consume dry or rehydrate later. Dried food weighs much less and packs into smaller spaces than foods preserved through any other method. But eggs are not safe to dehydrate at home and milk takes special care. Also, since no water remains in the food, consuming requires additional stored water to either rehydrate or to keep yourself from becoming dehydrated. Pickyourown.com has great tips for dehydrating.

Freeze Drying: Often freeze-dried food tastes better and lasts longer than dehydrated. And it weighs even less. You may wonder how to freeze dry food. But freeze drying at home requires either purchasing special equipment or following specific instructions using vacuum chambers and calcium chloride. If you want to learn how to freeze dry food, follow this link.

Canned Goods: If you spend more time at work than in the kitchen you’d probably benefit from buying food others have canned. Don’t feel guilty because your friend bottles her own tomatoes but you’re stuck paying the bills. It’s getting easier to find healthy canned products. They weigh more but survive the toughest conditions. In a true survival situation, you can acquire all the nutrients you need and even some water from canned foods. And remember to collect bottled water, either in single bottles, gallons, or huge containers.

Cold Storage: Though this is the shortest-term option, it can retain the most nutrients by keeping foods fresh and enzymes alive. Root cellars or basements prolong autumn produce for months. Some cheeses are cured in the same ambient conditions that keep potatoes from sprouting. Foods appropriate for cool, dry storage are root vegetables such as onions, beets, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and garlic. Also appropriate are winter squash such as butternut or pumpkins. Apples last weeks to months in the same space though peaches and pears will go bad fast. If your potatoes sprout, cut off the sprouts and green parts. Do not use any food that is withered or weeps moisture. And trust your nose: if it smells bad, it is bad. If your food is starting age but is not yet inedible you can cook it then store it in the freezer.

Brining, Pickling, Fermentation: Often converting foods from one form to another unlocks additional benefits. Fermenting wine into vinegar makes it last years longer as long as the process is completed correctly. Though the lives of yogurt and kombucha aren’t significantly lengthened, the probiotics enhance digestive and immune systems.

Smoking Meats: A millennia-old method of preserving meat hasn’t lost popularity. Our methods have just gotten easier and tastier. Smoked meat won’t last years, but it’ll extend the life a little and in a delicious way. You can learn how to smoke meats at home.

There are even more food preservation methods such as vacuum sealing and reusable lids. Use whichever methods best fit your life.

Very important: Use and rotate your food so it’s always safe and nutritious when you need it. This is easy to do if you store what you like to eat. Buy a case of canned tuna, push the old case forward and place the new one behind. Some commercial racks rotate your cans as you place the new ones in the top of a chute and grab the bottom cans for dinner.

Why Should You Store Food?

Not all of us are preparing for manure to hit the fan. We know we might need this food even if the zombies never arrive.

Preserving the Harvest: You worked this hard to grow or raise the food. Don’t let any go to waste. Surplus cucumbers become pickles and a bounty of apples becomes sauce.

Natural Disasters: Earthquakes, floods, blizzards, hurricanes, fires. Weather so cold the town shuts down and the air hurts your face. Flooding that blocks the road.

Disruption of Food Supply: This can be a drought which raises the cost of food or a strike within the transport system bringing food to the grocery store. Problems within the store itself can cause food to sell out or spoil leaving insufficient supplies for the community.

Short-term Emergencies: Maybe you need to leave home fast and either you don’t have spending money or can’t use a credit card. A 72-hour supply in a portable container can alleviate at least one worry.

Lack of Mobility: Perhaps you live in a remote area and the price of gas just skyrocketed. Or maybe you’ve broken your leg and have nobody to drive you to the store.

Unemployment: I’ve known professionals who have been unemployed for over a year because they couldn’t relocate and their skill set wasn’t hiring. Unemployment benefits only pay a portion of what you previously made, and if you struggled to make ends meet in the first place simply not needing to budget in food can make a big difference.

Disability or Untimely Death: What happens if the main breadwinner in the family suddenly can’t earn bread and the secondary adult doesn’t have the skills or education to meet the cost of living? Food storage can help that adult until he or she acquires the necessary career or education.

Budgeting: Red bell peppers can be 4/$1 in the summer and $5.99 per pound in the winter. If you know you’ll need bell peppers, freeze or can them when they’re cheap. If a store has a closeout sale on a specific pasta brand, buy it in bulk. Plus, based on a proven history of inflation, it’s reasonable to acknowledge that foods will never be cheaper than they are right now.

Healthy Eating: We all know healthy ingredients can cost more than processed food. Often we don’t have time to prepare meals that meet health requirements. Cooking in large batches and preserving can save time and ensure we have what we need for optimal health.

Sharing: Maybe you’re not the one that needs the food. If a loved one hits rock-bottom and you have a good supply of food, you can help them out without spending additional money.

Personal Convenience: If you know you’ll use chicken broth often, keep a supply so you won’t have to run to the store if unexpected guests drop by for dinner. Meals are easier to plan if you already have the ingredients.

To What Extent?

72-hour-kits, also known as bug-out bags, take care of a single person’s need for three days. But hard times can last longer than that. Most prepper or self-reliant groups advocate keeping at least three months of food, including water and medications. Having a year’s worth is optimal for enduring long-term situations like unemployment or disability.

Preserve what you can. Do it when you can and however you can. And while others might laugh at you and accuse you of preparing for doomsday, laugh back as you remind yourself that, whether fire sweeps through your town or you have specific dietary needs, you’re secure. At least, your food source is.

What are your favorite foods to preserve and which method works best for you?

Originally published in 2015 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

Food Preservation Examples: A Guide to Food Storage was originally posted by All About Chickens

[sudsybear]

Place setting

Bookends

Simon & Garfunkel Time it was, and what a time it was, it was

A time of innocence, a time of confidences

Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph

Preserve your memories; they're all that's left you

 The Beginning

 We were born in the mid-sixties. Unlike the youth of the country that were rioting on the news, protesting the war in Vietnam, and watching Nixon resign on national television, our parents were corporate drones making ends meet, putting food on the table, and saving money for their children’s college educations. Instead of participating in the flower-power movement, hippies, and free love, “Turn on, tune in, and drop out,” our parents paid mortgages and were room-mothers, scoutmasters, and sport coaches. Through the seventies when Nixon resigned and as a nation we endured the crude oil crisis, they helped us with homework and shuttled us to and from soccer practices and music lessons.

 We grew up in a suburb north of the conservative city of Cincinnati, Ohio. A wealthy bedroom community, Wyoming was settled in the early 1800s. It is a dignified suburb, steeped not in significant national or state history, but it owns a strong sense of importance and value to the larger community to which it belongs. Beginning as an area for the landed gentry, over the century since it was founded, the land was developed in stages. Grand homes built in the valley with butlers’ pantries and servants’ quarters have long since been interspersed with newer smaller homes. The building booms of the decades of the twentieth century brought a variety of architectural styles – 1920s Tudors, 1950s bungalows and three bedroom ranches, 1960s split-levels and two-story colonials. Finally in the 1970s, vacant land was precious and challenging to find, and contemporary custom-built homes were finessed onto odd lots.

 As the land was cleared, roads built, and homes went up, the city planted trees along the right-of-way, and conscientious homeowners planted more in their yards; ornamentals, along with deciduous staples like oak, beech and maples. The elms all died off in the Dutch elm disease epidemic, but they were replaced with hardier species. Plenty of conifers are sprinkled around for their evergreenness, and fruit trees too, not for the fruit they bear, but for the flowers and fragrance in springtime – flowering pears and crabapples. Declared a “Tree City USA” in the mid-90s the trees are a point of community pride, almost sacred. A homeowner thinks long and hard before cutting one down. The community grieves when an ancient timber falls over in a storm. The high school biology department annually assigns students to collect and identify fifty unique tree leaves. And along with the trees in all their varieties, in the spring and summer, the city maintains flower boxes around the street signs. Where in other communities stop signs and sidewalks suffice, in Wyoming the city department of public works has a budget for petunias and pansies and geraniums to prettify otherwise bland street corners.

 Wyoming is a tight-knit community. New homeowners buy not just a house, but a legacy. Someone moves into a house, and the new homeowners quickly learn to describe their residence, not as a street address, but, “Oh yes, we bought the Smith’s house on such-and-such a street.”

 There were basically three camps in town when I was growing up; those who grew up in Wyoming, whose family was part of the community fabric and who would never consider living anywhere else. There were well-compensated doctors, lawyers, and corporate executives; professionals enjoying the prestige and the schools. And finally, those who wanted something better for their children and worked hard to stay financially afloat stretching budgets to afford the high cost of living. This last group may have been deeply in debt, held two or more jobs, lived frugally, or some combination of the three. Today, despite the fact that my husband is a professional engineer and earns a good wage, there is no way my own family could afford to live there without substantial financial assistance.

 The school system has an excellent reputation. Expectations are high, quality services are provided, and creative alternatives are offered. The school system is small, intimate almost, and stable. In the years I attended, graduating classes varied in size from as low as 120 to as high as 180, large enough to provide ample opportunities, but small enough to know all your classmates. Students graduate from high school with the same kids they were with in kindergarten. Teachers teach for a lifetime. Oh sure, there’s some turnover, corporate relocations, financial hardships, personal obligations, but overall change is slow.

Parents work with the schools, the school board and city council coordinate efforts and communicate with the citizenry. As far as I know, no school tax levy has ever been defeated. May Fete, an annual spring carnival, is sponsored and run by the Parents Association as a fundraiser to supplement the school budget. A Boosters club supports the sports programs, and a Music Association supports the music departments. Since we graduated, an Alumni Association was formed, and an independent School Foundation established to provide even more money for the schools. 98% of all graduates go on to college. Whether they graduate college is another question entirely, but the option of not going on to some sort of secondary education is rarely exercised. If you don’t go to college, you join the armed services. Wyoming graduates are expected to become useful members of society and leaders of the future.

 In the 1980s our parents were indulgent. They gave their children every opportunity to learn and succeed. They put us on the front of the technology curve with home computers, Atari, cable when it was new. Not every kid got a car for his or her sixteenth birthday…but it wasn’t unheard of. Designer clothes, cosmetic surgery, winter trips to Disney World, Aspen, Hilton Head, or Sanibel Island were common - as were summer homes in Michigan. Unused season tickets to the Symphony Orchestra, the Pops, or the Playhouse were giveaways, “Here, we can’t use these, you take them.” Money flows in our community.

 My father ran for city council in the late 1970s. Elected on his first bid for office he was a bit of a renegade candidate – he rode a motorcycle. In a community of sedans and station wagons, Camaros, BMWs and Jaguars, a small street bike (Yamaha RD350 – two stroke) was enough edginess to get him remembered and elected. He served for more than twenty years, with re-elections every two years. I was in Middle School when he was first elected. By the time I was a teenager, I was accustomed to police officers stopping by the house to deliver the “Friday Memo,” a sort of state-of-the-city packet for all the councilmembers. I accompanied Dad to the city building for any one of a number of errands – to deliver or pick up paperwork, to talk to the city manager, head of the public works, or a police officer. Dad was involved and worked hard to respond to neighbors’ inquiries and concerns.

 Mother volunteered with the city ambulance squad. Initially trained as an EMT, later she took paramedic training. She first joined when I was in elementary school, and “ran squad” until after I left for college. Although she attended monthly evening meetings and occasional training sessions, she was mostly on call from the house. Actually, she could go anywhere she wanted so long as she didn’t leave the city limits. But when her pager blared, she dropped everything and drove to the police station to pick up the ambulance and respond to the call. If I was with her in the car, she either dropped me off somewhere safe to walk to a friend’s house or home, or I rode with her to the police station. It rarely happened that way. Usually, we were at home, and she yelled, “I’m leaving!” and left. Or, I arrived home from school to an empty house with a note explaining where she was, and what to do about dinner. We got very good at the message system, and I got an early lesson in self-reliance.

 My older brother Tom volunteered with the fire department as a teen. He was part of the “Salvage Squad” - a junior squad of teens who helped out at the firehouse. They responded to calls just like the adult volunteer firefighters, but for the most part took care of equipment and clean up.

 Tom’s bedroom was a clutter of wires and electronics. He rigged up a CB radio, hooked up an intercom system between the kitchen and his bedroom. He built models of various sorts, and plugged the local police frequency into his radio scanner to monitor the activity going on in the community. His room was off limits – six years younger, all the wires fascinated me. I don’t remember invading his space, but I probably did. That’s what younger sisters do to annoy their older brothers. Mostly I remember that wires and electronics were a part of home.

 Tom was enthusiastic, and between his radios and scanners following the fire and police channels and Mom’s pager and scanner following the fire and police channels, the house was noisy. It also happened that the fire chief lived next door; and his wife was a city employee. Had there ever been a real disaster, Mom might have responded as part of the Life Squad, Tom with the fire department, and Dad as a city official. It never happened, but demonstrates how deeply I was steeped in the community. Police officers knew me both as Councilman’s and Squadwoman’s daughter. I knew more about the leadership of the city, and how small cities were run, than any twelve year old should know.

 Over the months, years, after Tom left for the west coast (Willamette Valley in Oregon) Mom and Dad removed the various wiring schemes. By the time I was in high school, all those wires and equipment were a fond but distant memory.

 *          *          *

 In 1981 we attended my eldest brother’s May graduation from Wake Forest University in North Carolina. At the other end of summer, in August, Mom and Dad and I drove back from visiting my brother Tom in Western Oregon. We stopped long enough to celebrate my 14th birthday at a family restaurant in Casper, Wyoming. My gift that year was tickets to see a bona fide small town rodeo. Three more days on the road, and we would be home. I was just about to enter high school.

 My brothers were both long gone. Tom left for Oregon two years previous. After a spell of enthusiasm for becoming a firefighter, he later decided he wanted something beyond community college and enrolled at Willamette University. Now firmly ensconced in the culture of Oregon, he was a visitor in my life. My eldest brother Jack had been gone even longer, since 1977. He left home for Wake Forest University when I started fifth grade. I spent my middle school years riding in the back of various cars to shuttle him or his things back and forth to North Carolina. I counted eleven crossings of Paint Creek along the West Virginia turnpike in the late 70s. The year Jack spent abroad, Mom and Dad left Tom and I home for a week while they visited him in Venice. By 1981, Jack was graduated and working in West Berlin in Germany to be near his girlfriend. For me, it was cosmopolitan and exotic to have brothers on opposite sides of the world. I talked to either one of them on the telephone when we called. I wrote letters every once in a while. Prior to e-mail, they were virtual siblings, each only as much a part of my life as I wanted them to be.

 Even though they were gone from my immediate existence, they each cast long shadows. In his own time in high school Jack was active in the drama club. The walls of drama club meeting room were plastered with his images, and indelible memories stuck with his teachers. Tom was equipment manager for the winning football team and other sports. He left memories of his own with teachers.

 But I wasn’t alone in walking in siblings’ shadows. My graduating class was a bit unusual - we were a lot of “youngests.” Our parents had already been through the system at least once, more often twice or more - they were seasoned school participants. They knew the teachers, the administrators, how the system worked. Many teachers taught our older siblings, so we heard, “Oh, another Perrino. And hey, there’s another Savage. Another Ammerman, another Klebanow. How are your folks? How’s Jim or Amy or <name of another older sibling>?” and on and on. There was a comfort in that familiarity…and a danger.

 With familiarity came comfort and with that came friendship, which meant teachers forgave poor behavior, overlooked outbursts, and discipline relaxed. With stories and legends handed down from older siblings, ideas and how-tos were easily copied, and only sometimes stopped. Our parents were tired of parenting, comfortable with their experience with our older siblings, no longer as attentive; busy with aging parents, caught in the middle of two needy generations. With this unique set of circumstances, we teens pushed the envelope, and got away with more than we might have otherwise; later curfews, blind eyes toward the underage drinking.

 Two unique youth organizations complement the usual assortment of activities provided by the local school district. I’ve been gone so many years, I don’t know if they still exist or not. Corral is one. At the time, it was the community’s answer to “What do you do with the teen population to keep them off the streets and off of drugs?” The parent/student group put on dances a couple of times a month. We hired local bands to play, hired DJ’s, showed bad or classic movies like King Kong, Godzilla, Rear Window or The Birds. The movie nights were more successful before the advent of cable television, VCRs, DVDs, and the corner Hollywood or Blockbuster video store. We grew up during the great “Beta vs. VHS” debate. Not every family chose correctly, and there weren’t a whole lot of titles to choose from back then, mostly families recorded what was on cable, and watched at a more convenient time. In the fall, Corral events started after the football game ended, then as the season changed, after the basketball games. Every spring a talent/variety show featured student performances – kids sang, danced, wrote and performed their own comedy sketches, and played instruments.

 Another institution was the “Sub Deb Club.” A high school girls’ sorority, Sub Deb was a self-selecting clique. Was it “cool”? Yes and no. It was similar to a college sorority with more humiliation and much less alcohol. Only loosely supervised by parents of the members, you were invited to join as freshmen, attending “pre-rush” parties. My close and forever friends Valli, Julie and Erin were all enthusiastic, so I went along with it…for a while. Julie’s older sister was active in the organization, and Julie knew some of the older girls. The first few parties were fun – we played silly games to get to know each other and talked about boys and who was popular. After the initial parties, you decided whether or not to rush.

 In order to rush, you needed to hook up with a big sister, a junior or senior member of the club, who was your mentor. The age gap between my brothers and me was large enough that I didn’t know any current students when I entered high school. Not directly anyway. I knew older or younger siblings, or students who were the children of my parent’s friends. Despite participating in Girl Scouts for years, I lacked confidence to ask any of my former troup-mates to be my big sister for Sub Deb. So I was assigned to Beth and Shelley. Friendly, and heavy-set, in the image-conscious anorexic ‘80s they weren’t particularly popular. They participated in flag corps with another friend of mine. Well meaning and sweet, we hit it off, and I enjoyed their company. They welcomed me into their crowd, and I enjoyed the interaction.

 Once rush started, you wore a goofy costume involving a beanie and a tail any time or place outside of school grounds. You were forbidden to wash your hair during rush period (about six weeks) and were required to carry around an unrefrigerated raw egg. Finally, you were required to do whatever a current member asked of you, no matter how outrageous. That’s where I met my downfall.

 On the first day of rush, as soon as I set foot off the high school parking lot property onto the public sidewalk (absolutely no rush activities were allowed on school property) I was ambushed by a particularly vicious upperclassman. “Hey Scum!”

 “What?”

 “Is that how you address a current member of the club?”

 “Sorry, Miss so and so. What can I do for you ma’am?”

 “I want you to kiss Steve Guggenheim.”

 “Oh, no.” I panicked and wanted to cry right then and there. No. How humiliating. He’s my neighbor! He’s a senior! I baby-sat his younger siblings, and I’ve had a crush on him for a year. “No, I’m not going to kiss him.”

 “I’ll have to bring this up to the blackball board. You do know the penalties for disobeying an older member?”

 “Yes Ma’am.” I’ll never live this down, I can’t do this. I’m scared. No amount of personal humiliation is worth a social club. That’s it. I won’t do it anymore.

 I quit that day. I called my big sisters, explained what happened and quit. I would not subject myself to such humiliation.

 To end rush period, on a Saturday morning, pledges stood on street corners in their rush costumes, hair unwashed for so many weeks, a rotten egg kept (and carried with you – except at school) for the duration of rush, and the older members stopped at your corner, ceremonially broke your now rotten egg, and taunted you verbally and poured food products all over you.

 All the endured humiliation was rewarded with the opportunity to attend two additional formal dances per year throughout high school. Homecoming and Prom events were open to all students, but every fall and spring Sub Deb formals were held for members only. Two events per year provided additional opportunities to dress up, rent a limo, go out to eat, and have a special night with your friends or boyfriend. Other social opportunities were offered for members…rush parties in the fall, and usually one event in the summer – a picnic or pool party or some such. The group also performed service projects throughout the year; raking leaves for the elderly, volunteering at the local school for the deaf, collecting for the local food pantry.

 But I quit. My forever friends (Julie, Valli, and Erin) stuck it out, but I couldn’t hack it. My best friends were busy with a social club that I didn’t share, but I did make friends with some very open and supportive upperclassmen. My big sisters understood, and we genuinely liked each other, and they enfolded me into their social world. I waved to them from the bleachers when they performed at football games, and walked to Corral events with them. They were fun company in the lunchroom, and friendly faces in the hallways at school.

 In the winter, they invited me to do a Corral Show act with them. Another girl and I were two of only a handful of freshman in the show that winter - 1982. Ross was stage manager that year, and friendly with the girls in our rag-tag group, mostly juniors, Cynthia and myself, and a foreign exchange student. We performed a skit we called, “If I were not in high school.” Dressed in outlandish costumes we sang simple lyrics while pantomiming for our parents and friends. The audience loved it, and voted us their favorite act, a coveted prize in the friendly competition. We beat out such talent as a nationally recognized young cellist, an enthusiastic acoustic guitar player, several dance groups, and a couple other comedy skits. Not a bad start for a freshman with little experience. And Ross and I began to cross paths more and more frequently.

  +�o�¾

[myinfernalship-blog]

Oblivious

Oblivious

[uh-bliv-ee-uh s]

adjective

1. unmindful; unconscious; unaware

Barry Allen was the very definition of the word. His parents say he has an artist’s soul. His best friend, Iris, calls him a dreamer. His roommate, Caitlin, thinks it is because he is ‘Right Brain’ inclined. Most agreed, though, that Barry Allen is also adorable, sweet and tenderhearted, which more than made up for him being the most absentminded person they ever met.

(If you asked Barry why he was so oblivious, he would just stare at you, confused, and wonder if he had forgotten your birthday or something.)

Barry tended to be pretty easy-going. He rarely got upset about anything. That included his love life. At age 24 he already had plenty of exes, mostly because his partners had a tendency to end things right around the third date. You couldn’t really blame them. It’s hard dating someone who forgets to even show up to dinner because they were distracted by a mime in the park.

(Yeah. That actually happened.)

Barry knew the failures in his private life were his own fault. After all, almost everyone he had ever dated had said so. He just didn’t get worked up about it because he’d never dated anyone long enough to get emotionally invested. He was too busy with the graphic novels he worked on, more attached to his art than his dates, to worry about much beyond deadlines.

(Even those were just a passing concern. He was a little worried about his writing partner, Harry. He seemed to have a propensity for ulcers.)

So, it was no surprise to anyone that Barry didn’t realize he had a boyfriend until it was pointed out to him.

Len Snart had a fairly good life. At age 13 he was ‘discovered’ by a photographer friend of his step-mother. Within four months he was a highly sought out model, thanks to several popular magazine ads. Runway shows, music videos and commercials soon followed. By the time he was 18, he was fairly well known, even by people who didn’t follow fashion. Len knew the fashion industry was cut-throat, so he played it safe and lived modestly, saving every penny he could so that by the time he was 25, he had a good sized fortune and was able to retire and do something he always dreamed of.

He went back to college and got a business degree. Then he bought a bar and remodeled the place so it was just like the one his grandfather had owned. He wanted it to be a family type place with simple, but good food, a real jukebox that played 45 records and friendly waitstaff. For six months he literally lived in the office above the bar so he was always on hand for any problems or decisions.

Eventually his sister, Lisa and his cook, Mick, convinced him to find a real apartment or house. They said it was sad for a thirty-two year old to live above the bar. Len decided on a condo. Preferably one within walking distance of his baby, The Waverider (named after his grandfather’s old fishing boat).

He noticed Barry the day he moved in. It was his shirt that initially caught Len’s eye. It was blue with a picture of an old NES game cartridge that read ‘Blow Me’ underneath. He’d always had a weakness for cute and nerdy and Barry was certainly that. About the same height as Len, Barry had flyaway chestnut hair, doe eyes and the most kissable looking mouth he’d ever seen. He was slender, with long legs and fantastic hands.

They first met at the elevator. Sort of. Len and Mick were bringing in a dresser when Barry came up behind them, sorting his mail. He stopped, blinked a couple of times and then walked away without a word.

Just about the time they got the dresser to the condo, the stairwell door opened up and Barry walked into the hall. Len’s eyes zeroed in on the younger man and he smiled widely. “Hello.”

Barry had looked at him with a distracted air and nodded. “Hi.”

“I’m Len,” he said, holding out his hand. “Len Snart. This is my friend, Mick Rory. I’m moving in.” He gave Barry a wink and smile.

Barry nodded and shook his hand. “Barry Allen.” Then he unlocked his door and went inside. Len stared at the closed door across from his in surprise. Beside him Mick snorted and began maneuvering the dresser inside.

Now, Len wasn’t vain, but he also wasn’t used to being ignored, and he definitely wasn’t going to let a cutie like Barry get away. He spent the next few days subtly asking the other residents of the building about the young man. Len soon discovered he was something of a legend in the building.

Barry once worked during a fire. Seriously. The condo above him caught fire and while everyone else evacuated, Barry kept drawing, slightly annoyed by the alarms, but too focused on his work to worry about them. It wasn’t until a fireman was searching for any stragglers that they found him. He’d been slightly peeved about being dragged from his workroom before he could finish the panel he was working on.

Mrs. Owens from the first floor told him that Barry once deposited a check into his bank account in the middle of a robbery. He walked in, without noticing the three men in masks waving guns around, went straight up to one of the tellers and said he needed to make a deposit. The thieves were so stunned, they actually let him. It helped that Barry was pretty polite to the thieves and said ‘thank you’  when they let him leave afterwards.

Grady, the building’s doorman, told the story of how Barry ended up with a roommate. Caitlin had come home from work early one day and caught her boyfriend cheating. Essentially homeless at that point, the young woman was sitting at a table in a coffee shop, searching the paper for apartments when someone bumped into Barry, making him drop his coffee on her paper. He apologized sincerely and bought her a new paper. Upon discovering her situation, despite the fact that he didn’t know Caitlin at all, he suggested she stay a few days in his spare room until she found a place.

Normally Caitlin would have run the other way from a strange man offering her a bed for the night. However, there was something so intrinsically innocent and pure about Barry that she found herself trusting him. Still, she took the precaution of slipping her canister of mace into her jacket pocket and followed him to the condo. Her name was added to the mailbox the next morning. When Iris found out he had a roommate (about five weeks later), she asked how they met. In true Barry Allen form, he couldn’t remember.

Len quickly became obsessed with his new neighbor. Not just because Barry was attractive, but because he was just so...so...fascinating! He began buying the graphic novel series Barry worked on. While not a big fan of fantasy stuff, he could admit the artwork was incredible. He tried to draw Barry into conversation every time they met. He even began knocking on Barry’s door, asking for recommendations for coffee shops, cafes and dry cleaners in the area just for a chance to talk to him. It took five meetings before Barry began recognizing him.

(And wasn’t that a blow to the ego!)

They had been neighbors for two months when Len asked Barry over for dinner. Len was feeling pretty smug about finally gaining Barry’s attention when he said yes. Then came the agreed upon time and no Barry. After half an hour Len went across the hall and knocked loudly. It was Caitlin who answered. When Len asked where Barry was, she rolled her eyes and let him in.

“Barry!” she called loudly. “Len’s here!”

A full minute passed before Barry came out of his workroom, looking confused. “Yes?”

Len was understandably upset. “We’re supposed to be having dinner,” he growled.

Barry blinked a couple of times. “That’s not until Friday.”

“Today is Friday,” Len pointed out.

A couple more blinks and Barry turned and walked into his bedroom. Len looked at Caitlin for help. She just shook her head and went back to watching TV. A moment later Barry came back out of his bedroom, having changed out of his ink-stained shirt and sweatpants and into a sweater and jeans.

Len lead the way across the hall, wondering what he had gotten himself into. They ate, talked a little about Len’s bar, The Waverider, and Barry’s latest work. It was a little stilted, being their first real date. In anyone else’s mind, dinner would have been declared a disaster and they would have written Barry off. Len was too stubborn for that.

He began asking advice from Caitlin, Iris and even Harry (who was in the middle of sucking down a bottle of milk of magnesia). They all said the same thing. Muscle memory. Barry survived by routine. Once something was ingrained in him, he never forgot it. So, Len began laying the foundations for new routines.

Every Wednesday he dragged Barry to his bar. They had a couple of drinks while Len worked on payroll, then they had dinner in the booth closest to the bar. On Sundays he cooked and then would go grab Barry so they could eat and watch a movie. The first time Barry showed up at the bar without prompting, Len did an internal victory dance.

(He definitely didn’t fist pump when Barry went to the restroom, no matter what the staff said!)

Len continued taking things slowly, adding new routines by degrees. The first time he held Barry’s hand, the younger man looked embarrassed. When Len asked what was wrong, Barry shyly promised he wasn’t going to get lost at the market. Len had just smiled and said he liked keeping Barry close. That earned him a smile and blush. Barry didn’t object again. Eventually he began reaching for Len’s hand automatically whenever they left the building.

Cuddling took a little longer. Len started by just laying his arm across Barry’s shoulders during movie night, but Barry had pulled away and scooted to the other end of the couch. Len waited two weeks before trying again. This time he moved closer to Barry and took his hand. Halfway through the movie Barry began to relax and Len got up for a drink. When he sat back down, he sat beside Barry, their legs brushing. Barry tensed but he didn’t pull away, continuing to hold Len’s hand. Little by little he got Barry used to sitting close together.

A few more weeks went by before Len saw real progress. Barry had just finished a large side project for Heavy Metal Magazine (which Len totally did not subscribe to just so he could get those issues) and was exhausted. Midway through the meal he was yawning and his shoulders drooped. Len suggested an early night, but Barry waved off his concerns. Twenty minutes into the movie, though, Barry was asleep, his head ending up in Len’s lap. During one of the movie’s high octane car chases Barry woke up and blinked up at Len sluggishly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up. Len assured him that he hadn’t minded. Barry had smiled sweetly and laid his head on Len’s shoulder while the movie finished. When he walked Barry to his door and said goodnight, Barry stunned Len by leaning in and hugging him close, thanking him for being so understanding.

(Mick snickered over the way he grinned all the next day, which earned Mick a smack to the back of his head.)

Len was feeling pretty confident. Barry no longer needed reminding to come for dinner or to the bar. The only fly in the ointment was that they hadn’t gotten any further than hand holding and cuddling. Kissing Barry was where Len’s luck ran out.

The first time he tried, he was just leaning closer when his front door slammed open and his sister burst in, crying loudly about her cheating boyfriend. By the time he got Lisa calmed down, Barry was gone.

The second time was at Len’s bar. They were on their way to the car when Len noticed how the moonlight reflected off Barry’s eyes, making them glow ethereally. He had his hand on Barry’s waist, about to pull him closer when someone yelled Barry’s name. Len was not happy when a handsome blonde man hurried over and threw his arm around Barry’s shoulder, tugging him close. Barry returned the hug briefly before pulling away and introducing Len to his previous neighbor, Oliver Queen. By the time he managed to pull Barry away from the man, Len was too tightly wound to attempt a kiss.

The third time was interrupted when Mick stumbled into the office, drunk as a skunk, and almost knocked Barry into the wall. The fourth was at the farmer’s market where Len was stung by a bee and had to go to the hospital for an epinephrine shot. Len was beginning to wonder if he was doomed to a life of celibacy.

It had been five months, three weeks and six days since their first date. Len was in the office interviewing a potential new bartender when his best waitress, Shawna, knocked. She hesitantly informed Len that Barry had arrived (a little early for once) but that there might be a problem. Len was immediately out the door and scanning the main room. He quickly spotted Barry who was pressed tight against the wall near the pool tables. Leaning over him was a man Len despised, Mark Mardon, owner of Weathertop, a bar across town.

Len stomped across the bar, drawing the attention of several regulars, and shoved between Mark and Barry. “What the hell are you doing here, Mardon?” he growled.

The taller man grinned wickedly, looking over Len’s shoulder at Barry. “Just making friends, Snart,” he smirked.

“Make friends elsewhere,” Len snapped, reaching back and grabbing Barry’s hand.

Mardon chuckled darkly. “Heard ya had a new toy. He’s a pretty one.”

Len’s cool evaporated instantly. “Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend,” he warned before stomping away, pulling Barry across the bar and into the office.

Behind him Barry made a strangled sort of sound. Len quickly looked over his shoulder, worried Barry was scared or hurt. Barry’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. “B-boyfriend?” he squeaked. “M-me?”

Len stopped moving and turned to face Barry. “Yeah,” he said slowly. He tensed as Barry’s expression turned to dismay. Shit! Had he misread everything? Did Barry just want to be friends? But… But they cuddled! They had date nights! Dammit, Barry was his!!!

Barry fidgeted a little before looking chagrined. “How long have we been dating?”

Len quickly relaxed, realizing Barry wasn’t objecting, just confused. He smirked at the younger man and placed his hands on Barry’s waist. “Almost six months.”

Barry frowned thoughtfully, head tilting to the side. “Really?”

“You didn’t notice?” Len teased. In truth he had expected something like this. Well, not this exactly, but he had anticipated that Barry wouldn’t remember their first date. Still, he couldn’t be upset with Barry. He had known from the beginning that Barry was oblivious.

Barry looked sheepish for a moment. “I thought maybe you liked me, but since no one else ever stayed for long, I wasn’t going to jinx it by asking.”

Len chuckled and pulled Barry closer, encouraged by how compliant the artist was being. “Barry, you’re adorable,” he whispered before closing the distance and finally getting that first kiss.

Three days after Barry discovered they were dating, he asked why they had never had sex. Len was so stunned by Barry’s blunt question, he explained the routine system. Barry had huffed with annoyance and flat out told Len that if he had just said what he wanted, things would have moved along a lot faster.

Len eyed Barry suspiciously. “Sooo, if I asked you to stay the night…?”

Barry shrugged calmly. “I need to go get my toothbrush.”

Len’s jaw dropped. “Wait! So, if I had told you we were dating months ago…?”

“I’m not that oblivious,” Barry said, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t get subtlety. I can’t read minds, Len. If you want something from me, you have to tell me, otherwise I don’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice the first time I asked you for dinner,” Len grumbled.

“You asked if I wanted to try your lasagna,” Barry corrected. “You never said it was a date.”

“Caitlin told me you once forgot a date because you got distracted watching a mime!” Len defended.

Barry blushed lightly. “In my defense, he was a really good mime. Much more entertaining than the philosophy major Iris had set me up with. It’s more fun watching a mime fake drown than listening to someone pick apart Aristotle. I like you more than mimes.”

Len crossed his arms, feeling pretty defensive at how wrong he’d been about Barry. “Well, you didn’t like cuddling with me.”

Barry’s blush deepened. “I thought we were just friendly neighbors. I didn’t want you to see my erection and get upset with me.”

Now it was Len blushing. “Erection?” he whispered.

Barry nodded shyly. “That’s why I always wear big sweaters around you, so you won’t see.”

Len stared at Barry for several seconds before swallowing and clearing his throat. “Barry?”

“Yes, Len?”

“Go get your damn toothbrush!”

[josephkitchen0]

Food Preservation Examples: A Guide to Food Storage

I tell my friends there are two types of people: preppers and those who laugh at preppers. Why is preparing for a rainy day such a laughable concept? Is it outrageous to think the misfortunes that happen to millions of people could happen to you? In this article, we’ll discuss food preservation examples. And we’ll do it simply, by answering seven questions: who, what, when, where, how, why, and to what extent?

Who Should Store Food?

Everyone who eats food and wants to eat it in the future. Those that want to save money. People who have enough money now but realize they might not have as much if situations change.

Imagine your Pantry Overflowing with the Fruits of your Labors...

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In November of 2011, fierce winds toppled power lines, igniting drought-stricken grass and brush in a residential area of Reno, Nevada. Within twelve hours the fire destroyed thirty homes. School was canceled as police, fire, and paramedic units struggled to contain the blaze. One person died, over 10,000 people were evacuated, 4,100 homes were without power and the governor declared a state of emergency. The fire came within two miles of my house. As I entered my neighborhood supermarket I encountered enraged customers. Frustrated managers and cashiers explained that the store had depended on emergency generators since midnight and couldn’t power the freezers and coolers. All cold or frozen food was discarded per health code. Angered that they had nothing to cook for dinner, the customers blamed the store instead of the current emergency.

Anyone can be left without power for hours or even weeks. Blizzards can confine people for days and it’s been claimed that a local supermarket can only sustain a community for 72 hours. Sustenance declines if the supermarket has to discard half of its stock.

What Exactly is Food Preservation?

The basic answer to what is food preservation; extending your food beyond its natural life through freezing, dehydrating, root cellars, canning, freeze-drying or dehydrating, or converting into products which last longer.

My mother preserved food from her garden. She didn’t know how to freeze dry food, and freeze drying food at home wasn’t the option that it is now with modern equipment. She grew it herself and bottled it in mason jars through water bath and pressure canning. The meat we raised ourselves sat within freezers. We consumed the food through the winter and in the spring she planted again. It was what her pioneering great-grandmothers had done. And now that I have the opportunity to garden my own yard, it’s what I do.

But you don’t have to be the one preserving the food to take advantage of it. Canned food allows consumers to enjoy meals without from-scratch preparation and to keep food for a long time. Some companies specialize in ready-to-eat meals such as pasta and chili while others market for emergency preparation. You can dehydrate fresh produce or purchase it already dehydrated. Developments in vacuum-packing systems allow dried and frozen products to last at least twice as long. Freeze-dried food can be purchased in bulk or small quantities, or you can purchase appliances for freeze drying food at home. And though frozen products have a limited life, especially in disaster situations, they can help with shorter-term needs.

What Foods Should You Store?

Store the foods you eat.

My friend Danielle spent all summer bottling fruit from the local gleaning project. She made applesauce, jalapeno and habanero jams, and prickly pear syrup. Her apartment cupboards overflowed with mason jars. And though her three young children loved the peaches and pears, they weren’t fond of hot pepper jam. Then a series of thunderstorms and flash floods struck. When the power outage continued through dinner time, she realized she had stored the wrong food. Her hungry children could not go to bed on just prickly pear syrup and Danielle did not have a working stove until the electricity came back on. What she needed was dry cereal, canned meals and vegetables, and bottled water. After that incident she slowly stockpiled nonperishable food as she could, buying extra cans of pasta or bottles of juice when she had spare cash.

If you don’t own a grain mill and don’t sprout grains, don’t stock your pantry with wheat. If your aging parent cannot consume much sodium, don’t rely on soups and canned vegetables. Without a wood stove or a yard where you can build a fire, dry beans might be difficult to consume in long-term power outages. And certainly, don’t break your budget acquiring a year’s worth of food at once when you could spend $50 per month at sales.

For a week or two, record what your family eats and how much it costs. Out of that list, consider what can be stored through available methods. Now add in items to replace your favorite perishable products. Use that as your guide for building your supply.

One prepper website advises storing soft grains, beans, pastas and mixes, coconut oil, apple cider vinegar, powdered milk, canned meat/tuna/vegetables/fruits, peanut butter, tea and coffee, ramen noodles, and herbs and spices. Another website lists canned salmon, dried beans, brown rice, bulk nuts, peanut butter, trail bars, energy and chocolate bars, beef jerky, coffee/tea, and sea vegetables or powdered super greens. And Business Insider lists ten foods that would survive an apocalypse as honey, pemmican jerky, MREs (military-style meals ready to eat), hard liquor, peanut butter, Twinkies, rice, powdered milk, and ramen noodles.

Don’t forget to store what you enjoy, such as desserts and hard candy. Most situations where you need that food will be dismal and something sweet gives you a moment of indulgence during a hard time.

And especially don’t forget clean drinking water plus a way to acquire more.

When Should You Preserve Food?

Gardeners advise friends that they will be busy from August through October for food storage season. That’s when my garden pushes out the tomatoes, peppers, and squash. I harvest livestock year-round, with a lull in summer since 100-degree weather is bad for hatching chicks and pregnant rabbits.

But the best time to preserve food is when you can get the food.

Tactic #1: Grow the food yourself or align with local gardeners. When it’s ripe and ready, preserve it ASAP. If your tomatoes ripen slowly and you want to make a big batch of sauce, simply wash the fruit and stash it in freezer bags. Once the season is over you can thaw and cook down to a delightful marinara then bottle or freeze it.

Tactic #2: Buy seasonal produce and can, freeze or dry it yourself. This takes advantage of fruits and vegetables at their tastiest, cheapest, and most nutritious. In my section of the world that is usually June for strawberries, July for peppers, peaches, and corn, August for pears and tomatoes, and September for potatoes and onions as warehouses clear out last year’s stock in preparation for this year’s harvest. During holidays I can find sweet potatoes, winter squash, and cranberries at lower prices than the rest of the season. Instead of buying enough sweet potatoes to roast with butter and marshmallows I’ll stock up with twenty pounds and keep them in a cool, dry place for several months. If they start to go bad I’ll roast them then freeze.

Tactic #3: Hit sales and clearance racks. These happen year round and the trick is knowing where to go. Watch local ads for case lot sales. Scout out discount shelves. Since stores cannot sell spoiled goods or anything past the sell-by date, most food is still okay to use if frozen or dehydrated right away. Whenever I visit the supermarket I make my rounds and pick up items I can store and use. Bread reduced to a dollar per loaf resides in the freezer and comes out as the family needs it. Using this tactic we’ve enjoyed portobello stuffed ravioli with Parmesan cheese and artisan sausage for two dollars per plate.

Tactic #4: Purchase from food storage companies. Though some distributors offer 5-gallon buckets containing a month of dried goods, you don’t have to purchase all at once. As your budget allows, order fifty pounds of rice or a #10 can of flour. Gradually build your supply.

Where Do You Store Food?

I live in a two-bedroom Depression Era house. We have no pantry, garage, or basement. My home canning decorates bookshelves built into the wall. I converted a half-bath into a storage room by closing the toilet, setting shelves over it, and placing lightweight products atop. One freezer sits at the end of the breezeway, blocking a door we never used anyway, and another rests beside the dining room table.

If you don’t want a pantry in your living room, convert a closet or just put the food wherever you can. One friend built a platform from boxes of #10 cans in his family room, draped a rug over it, and set the sofa on top. My sister stacked bottled water in her apartment’s coat closet, set her shoes on top, and let her coats dangle over. Another friend stacks boxes, sets plywood atop, then drapes an attractive cloth to make an end table.

Winter squash, apples, and root vegetables should be kept in a cool, dark place. Chest or upright freezers can stay outside if sheltered from wet or extreme weather; a covered porch or carport is perfect if you trust your neighbors. Home canning withstands most temperatures above freezing, but remember that heat can decrease shelf life. Aluminum cans take the most abuse and dented products are still good as long as they haven’t been opened and are used before the “best before” date. Keep in mind factors like rodents, insects, humidity, dishonest neighbors and possible problems with weather.

How Do You Preserve Food?

Find the food preservation method that works best for you.

Home Canning: This method is best for homesteaders, gardeners and those with special diets. My friend Kathy pressure-cans soups because her elderly father cannot consume much sodium. When her father travels, he takes jars of soup so he doesn’t endanger his health with commercial food. If you want to can your own food, first educate yourself on safe methods. Home canning can save money but the initial cost is steep. New jars, lids, pots, and pressure cookers can quickly reach hundreds of dollars. Earthquakes or relocating to new homes can be hard on glass jars. For reliable instructions on how to can food at home, trust the Ball website.

Freezing: Probably the quickest and easiest method, this involves buying foods and stashing them at 0 degrees in freezer-safe containers. Frozen food is quickly thawed and can take minimal preparation, often without heating. Foods that are not safely home canned can be frozen. But though a fully stocked freezer can last up to a week in a power outage if the freezer isn’t opened, each moment without electricity compromises the food. If you want long-term and dependable storage, do not rely on freezers, especially if you live in hurricane-prone areas or anywhere with sketchy power service. Find out how to freeze different foods at Stilltasty.com.

Dehydrating: Home dehydrators cost between $20 and $300. Herbs, green vegetables, fruits, and some meats are safe to dehydrate then either consume dry or rehydrate later. Dried food weighs much less and packs into smaller spaces than foods preserved through any other method. But eggs are not safe to dehydrate at home and milk takes special care. Also, since no water remains in the food, consuming requires additional stored water to either rehydrate or to keep yourself from becoming dehydrated. Pickyourown.com has great tips for dehydrating.

Freeze Drying: Often freeze-dried food tastes better and lasts longer than dehydrated. And it weighs even less. You may wonder how to freeze dry food. But freeze drying at home requires either purchasing special equipment or following specific instructions using vacuum chambers and calcium chloride. If you want to learn how to freeze dry food, follow this link.

Canned Goods: If you spend more time at work than in the kitchen you’d probably benefit from buying food others have canned. Don’t feel guilty because your friend bottles her own tomatoes but you’re stuck paying the bills. It’s getting easier to find healthy canned products. They weigh more but survive the toughest conditions. In a true survival situation, you can acquire all the nutrients you need and even some water from canned foods. And remember to collect bottled water, either in single bottles, gallons, or huge containers.

Cold Storage: Though this is the shortest-term option, it can retain the most nutrients by keeping foods fresh and enzymes alive. Root cellars or basements prolong autumn produce for months. Some cheeses are cured in the same ambient conditions that keep potatoes from sprouting. Foods appropriate for cool, dry storage are root vegetables such as onions, beets, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and garlic. Also appropriate are winter squash such as butternut or pumpkins. Apples last weeks to months in the same space though peaches and pears will go bad fast. If your potatoes sprout, cut off the sprouts and green parts. Do not use any food that is withered or weeps moisture. And trust your nose: if it smells bad, it is bad. If your food is starting age but is not yet inedible you can cook it then store it in the freezer.

Brining, Pickling, Fermentation: Often converting foods from one form to another unlocks additional benefits. Fermenting wine into vinegar makes it last years longer as long as the process is completed correctly. Though the lives of yogurt and kombucha aren’t significantly lengthened, the probiotics enhance digestive and immune systems.

Smoking Meats: A millennia-old method of preserving meat hasn’t lost popularity. Our methods have just gotten easier and tastier. Smoked meat won’t last years, but it’ll extend the life a little and in a delicious way. You can learn how to smoke meats at home.

There are even more food preservation methods such as vacuum sealing and reusable lids. Use whichever methods best fit your life.

Very important: Use and rotate your food so it’s always safe and nutritious when you need it. This is easy to do if you store what you like to eat. Buy a case of canned tuna, push the old case forward and place the new one behind. Some commercial racks rotate your cans as you place the new ones in the top of a chute and grab the bottom cans for dinner.

Why Should You Store Food?

Not all of us are preparing for manure to hit the fan. We know we might need this food even if the zombies never arrive.

Preserving the Harvest: You worked this hard to grow or raise the food. Don’t let any go to waste. Surplus cucumbers become pickles and a bounty of apples becomes sauce.

Natural Disasters: Earthquakes, floods, blizzards, hurricanes, fires. Weather so cold the town shuts down and the air hurts your face. Flooding that blocks the road.

Disruption of Food Supply: This can be a drought which raises the cost of food or a strike within the transport system bringing food to the grocery store. Problems within the store itself can cause food to sell out or spoil leaving insufficient supplies for the community.

Short-term Emergencies: Maybe you need to leave home fast and either you don’t have spending money or can’t use a credit card. A 72-hour supply in a portable container can alleviate at least one worry.

Lack of Mobility: Perhaps you live in a remote area and the price of gas just skyrocketed. Or maybe you’ve broken your leg and have nobody to drive you to the store.

Unemployment: I’ve known professionals who have been unemployed for over a year because they couldn’t relocate and their skill set wasn’t hiring. Unemployment benefits only pay a portion of what you previously made, and if you struggled to make ends meet in the first place simply not needing to budget in food can make a big difference.

Disability or Untimely Death: What happens if the main breadwinner in the family suddenly can’t earn bread and the secondary adult doesn’t have the skills or education to meet the cost of living? Food storage can help that adult until he or she acquires the necessary career or education.

Budgeting: Red bell peppers can be 4/$1 in the summer and $5.99 per pound in the winter. If you know you’ll need bell peppers, freeze or can them when they’re cheap. If a store has a closeout sale on a specific pasta brand, buy it in bulk. Plus, based on a proven history of inflation, it’s reasonable to acknowledge that foods will never be cheaper than they are right now.

Healthy Eating: We all know healthy ingredients can cost more than processed food. Often we don’t have time to prepare meals that meet health requirements. Cooking in large batches and preserving can save time and ensure we have what we need for optimal health.

Sharing: Maybe you’re not the one that needs the food. If a loved one hits rock-bottom and you have a good supply of food, you can help them out without spending additional money.

Personal Convenience: If you know you’ll use chicken broth often, keep a supply so you won’t have to run to the store if unexpected guests drop by for dinner. Meals are easier to plan if you already have the ingredients.

To What Extent?

72-hour-kits, also known as bug-out bags, take care of a single person’s need for three days. But hard times can last longer than that. Most prepper or self-reliant groups advocate keeping at least three months of food, including water and medications. Having a year’s worth is optimal for enduring long-term situations like unemployment or disability.

Preserve what you can. Do it when you can and however you can. And while others might laugh at you and accuse you of preparing for doomsday, laugh back as you remind yourself that, whether fire sweeps through your town or you have specific dietary needs, you’re secure. At least, your food source is.

What are your favorite foods to preserve and which method works best for you?

Originally published in 2015 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

Food Preservation Examples: A Guide to Food Storage was originally posted by All About Chickens