#but i meant the nuts section where you weigh the nuts but they get the sweet ones only

[mysticaltigersorceress]

(Cute) Harbingers of Chaos

A/n: So this is my piece for @some-piece‘s AU challenge!! My choice of characters was: Silvers Rayleigh, Shanks, Wire, Kuzan (Aokiji), and Shachi. I’m going to do a (college) library AU. All fluff and fun, no warnings!! this turned out long than i meant lol, but most is under the cut.  feel free to add to the masterlist basi uwu

Word Count: 1.8k (i know, i thought it was gonna be shorter, but then, well, whoops lol)

Notes: Shachi x Reader (vaguely lol), gender neutral reader, and 2nd person pov

Summary: Reader works in college library, chaos caused by adorableness, Bepo is a massive pupper lol, plans went askew

AO3: Find it here on archive uwu

When you began your shift at the New World University Library, things started off as per usual. Armed with mints in your pocket and a single earbud in your ear, you started on your to do list, first of which was shelving books. Making your rounds through the library, you gave a few smiles and half waves to some of the students you recognized, but soon enough, you were lost in the music and books. Things were going quite smoothly too, that is, until a tall ginger in a whale hat dragged you out of your world, literally. 

He yanked you around the corner of the shelf with a crazed look on his face and frantically looked around before crouching down and grabbing you by both shoulders.

“You work here, right? Have you seen a tall guy in a white hat? Super scrawny, possibly high and definitely needs to lay off the coffee?”

“Sorry, what? I- no. Could you–” A loud BOOOOF cut you off, and all the blood drained from Whale-hat’s face. He released you and rocketed away faster than a bar of soap in the bath, cursing about flightless wanna-be posh birds. Not quite knowing what else to do, you sprinted after him. 

Students were fleeing the plaza at the center of the library, while just as many flocked in with their phones to film whatever was happening. Whale-hat was shoving his way through the throng and you dived after him, apologizing to the disgruntled students as you went.

Whale-hat broke free of the crowd before you, and the people cut off your escape before you could follow. You could hear someone yelling about wasted food, a bunch of incoherent shouting, and a frick ton of barking for somewhere any animals besides service dogs were not supposed to be. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but it smelled of trouble, and you could get in a LOT of trouble if this didn’t get resolved quickly!

“COMING THROUGH!” You held your arms around your face and bulldozed through the last students in your way, breaking out into the open– 

Something big and heavy to slammed you to the ground, gave you a few licks and ran across you. 

“POLAR BEAR!” One shadow jumped over you, quick as a whip.

“THAT'S A DOG IDIOT!” Another shadow soared overhead. “STOP CHASING HIM, HE THINKS THIS IS A GAME!”

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry about this!” Whale-hat paused his pursuit just long enough to help you up and make sure you could see straight. “PENG YOU IDIOT, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP HIM OUTSIDE!”

“LET’S SEE YOU TRY TO CONTROL AN EXCITED DOG WHO WEIGHS AS MUCH AS YOU!!!”

Whale-hat ran off after you assured him you were fine, and you took in the scene before you. (Properly this time, no giant dogs to obstruct the view). 

The dog in question (definitely able to be confused for a polar bear by size alone) was bounding joyously throughout the plaza, making new friends who would give him pets before he noticed the meat-kid and scamper excitedly away again. Behind Meat-kid were Whale-hat and his friend, trying desperately to call over the dog.

“IS THAT YOUR SHITTY DOG!?” A blonde guy yelled from across the plaza, remnants of a meal scattered around his feet. “IT JUST ATE ALL OF OUR DAMN FOOD!” Why had they decided to have a picnic in the library? And why was the dog close enough to raid their picnic?

“COME HERE POLAR BEAR!” The meat-kid got close enough he dived for the dog. You thought he would actually catch the dog, but the dog dodged at the last second, leaving a student available for meat-kid to tackle instead. You barely held back a snort at the sight of limbs flailing askew and they disappeared from view.

You scowled to compose yourself and took a deep breath; this had gone on long enough. Crossing the plaza, you snatched part of the lost meal and whistled and made some kissy noises. “Here boy! Come here! Want some food?” You patted your leg excitedly and crouched down, trying to lure the fluff monster over.

By some miracle, he heard you over all the noise and bounded over to you, graciously gobbling up the treat and basking while you showered him in rubs and praise (and took a hold of his collar). Whale-hat and his friend wheezed as they ran up to you, gasping out apologies and thanks as they reattached the leash and tied it to their belt. Was– was that a great idea?

“YOUR POLAR BEAR STOLE MY MEAT!” The meat-kid bounced back over to them, hunger and indignation emblazoned across his face. (Talk about the living embodiment of hangry.)

“That's a dog Strawhat-ya." From behind Strawhat came a tall lanky man with bags the size of hammocks under his eyes, freshly soaked in coffee and wearing a white fuzzy cap. 

White hat. Tall. Probably needs to lay off the coffee. "Is that–" 

"LAW! There you are!" Whale-hat laughed and interrupted you, "We were just taking Bepo out for a walk! And we brought you some–"

Law pulled something out of his pocket and chucked it in the opposite direction. Bepo bolted away faster than a squirrel in a nut factory, dragging poor Whale-hat’s friend behind him. You watched alarmed as the dog/human sled combo created a scene which reminded you of bowling pins in a bowling alley. Law then held out his hand expectantly; Whale-hat swallowed hard and reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a pack of... salted licorice? He handed the candy and a few bills over, and the lanky zombie disappeared with Strawhat bouncing after him.

What on earth was happening? 

"Oi, shithead! What are you gonna do about my ruined food!? Poor Nami-san and Robin-chan are gonna starve because of you and your shitty mutt!" The blonde growled at Whale-hat, glaring him down in a way that might have been scary, had he not been several inches shorter than the one he was yelling at.

"A, that's not my dog, and B, if Bepo wanted to eat it, then it probably tastes like shit anyway!"

They both started arguing loudly over each other, and you buried your face in your hands. This certainly wasn’t how you wanted today to go. But now, it was time to get this mess straightened out.

"Alrighty boys, listen here,” you growled, “I will look over you," you pointed harshly at the blondie, "having food in the library and I will look over you," you poked Whale-hat in the chest, "having a dog in the library if you both get this mess cleaned up. NOW."

Both their eyes went wide and they lowered their heads and apologized before scampering away to clean up the spilled food. That’s odd, you never thought you were that intimidat– 

“Sorry for the trouble,” an arm wrapped around your shoulder and you found yourself looking at the face of a very cute girl with orange hair, “I’ll make sure those idiots make it up to you.” She winked then strutted away.

You blinked as she disappeared. What the hell just happened? Could this day get any weirder? You shook your head and went to monitor the boys as they cleaned up. Several minutes of cleaning (and attempted flirting on the blonde’s part) later, the floor was clean, and you left them to pick up where you left off in your regular librarian duties.

Days later, you hadn’t run into any of them again, (though you think you might’ve seen Law passed out in the medical section), and it was all starting to feel like a weird fever dream. 

That is, until you received a text from an unknown number while you were at work in the library. 

This you? (Accompanied by a gif of you, being tackled by a big white furry smudge.) 

It looked hilarious, but you were torn between laughing and wanting to cry. Was this all over the internet now? Were you a meme?

You could just say no, wrong number… But what were the chances some random stranger had a gif of the incident and then texted you?

Maybe. Who’s asking?

The typing symbol appeared and disappeared several times, but after a few minutes it didn’t appear. Well that was anticlimactic.

“Uh, hi. Sorry, I just wanted to check if the number Nami gave me was right, or if she was just trolling me.” A voice came from behind you and there he was: Whale-hat! Wait, who the heck was Nami, and how had she gotten your number to pass along?

“Who gave you my number?” 

“The girl with the orange hair from the other day?” He frowned. “You didn’t give her your number?” 

“Not that I recall…” 

“Oh.” His eyes kept meeting yours then darting away again and he shuffled on the spot. You decided to have a little mercy on him.

“I never caught your name,” you extended your hand and introduced yourself properly.

“Ah, shit! I’m Shachi. Sorry about what happened the other day. We didn’t expect Bepo to cause such a mess.” He scratched the back of his neck and gave you an apologetic bow.

“It’s not your fault those students thought having a picnic in the library was a good idea,” you chuckled. “By the way, is your friend okay? The one who got dragged away?”

“Oh, Penguin’s fine! A couple of bruises and stuff, but he’ll live.”

“So, where did you get that gif?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Someone got a good video of the whole thing and it’s already got about half a million hits! I can send the link if you…” He trailed off remembering this might not be something you wanted to be famous for. 

“Right, um…” Shachi blushed and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I actually was here more than just to apologize and show you embarrassing gifs of yourself.” He tucked his hands behind his back and glanced around. “I mean, it can be part of the apology but I was going to ask if I could get you coffee or something sometime but if you don’t want to that’s fine. Nami was threatening me that I need to be a gentleman– BUT NOT TO ASK YOU OUT, I wanted to do that anyway before this whole fiasco happened, but then you know, this happened, and I–”

“You’re asking me on a date?” you felt the corner of your mouth twitch up.

“I– yes?” He smiled nervously at you. 

You couldn’t help a small giggle. This felt waaayyyy too much like a scene from a bad fanfic, but it still made your heart go uwu. 

“Okay. I have to get back to work, but text me later and we work out a time.” You waved and pushed your cart away. A wide grin split his face in two, and he waved back before running giddily away. 

~~~

“I told you the Bepo plan was a sure fire way to get a date!”

*THWACK*

“That wasn’t how the Bepo plan was supposed to go! You owe me big time!”

[doomedandstoned]

Cave of Swimmers Reach Epic Heights in Infectious New Spinner ‘Aurora’

~Review by Billy Goate~

Album Art by Brian Olson

I've always said that given the right circumstances (say a good set of professional ears lodged in influential places) that CAVE OF SWIMMERS would be a sensation. Why? Because they've got all the right stuff to really connect with people at a time when heavy music has been simmering underground, well-past ready for a fresh outburst. Hamstrung by lockdowns, financial burdens, and fear aplenty, we're ready to dust off our air guitars and party like it's 1987 again (incidentally, the year I first discovered heavy music). I'm not alone in speculating that we're in for another Roaring Twenties, not unlike the carefree days that followed the last global pandemic. And it's precisely this kind of energetic vibe, with its unique Latin-meets-metal flavor, that is ripe and ready to rock 'n' revel to!

Hell, we've not heard a sound this contagious since, well, maybe Sepultura -- and that was another animal entirely. With that said, Cave of Swimmers are very much metal to the core. And oh what a crowd-rousing live show Guillermo Gonzalez (guitar, synth, vox) and Arturo Garcia (drums, backing vox) can put on! I was there when Cave of Swimmers energized a hung-over and droopy mob gathered 'round The Vinyl Stage at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino, lo those many years ago at the inaugural Psycho Las Vegas.

Doomed & Stoned · The Doomed & Stoned Show - The Cave Of Swimmers Special

All that and they have an appealing back story: two friends whose families relocated to Florida amidst tumultuous circumstances in Venezuela. As teenagers, Arturo and Guillermo grew up idolizing bands like Iron Maiden and Metallica and now they've crafted a fantastic, original style of their own, with wicked guitar play and grandiose vocals built atop a rhythmic array that is simultaneously feverish and suave, with choruses that are imminently singable. Stream their latest LP at least twice through and I can predict which lines you'll be humming at work and crowing in the shower at the top of your lungs.

When the band burst upon the scene in 2013 with Cave of Swimmers, I remember the community sharing it like mad. From "Materia" onward to their incredible namesake anthem, it was as if the Latin Candlemass had emerged from the salty Atlantic to enthrall crowds like some kind of warbling Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Cave of Swimmers by CAVE OF SWIMMERS

Their music-making only got better from there. 2015 gifted us with a second EP, Reflection, featuring a song I have no doubt will one day be a doom metal standard, "Prince of the Power of the Air". I'm telling you, the Psycho crowd went stompin' nuts when they heard those quasi-Biblical lyrics sung in epic doom fashion accompanied by that stern guitar tone, leading up to an incredible solo, and then a delirious second-half, which made everyone dance (whether we wanted to or not). It's infectious, like I said. I'm telling you, this sound cannot be matched. And I'm convinced it will not be stopped, either.

Reflection by CAVE OF SWIMMERS

2021 is Cave of Swimmer's year to ascend, for thus saith the Prophet that dwelleth atop the Rocks on High! Pandemic or no, it was this duo's time to release the material that had been welling up inside of them for so long. I guess we can call this their first LP, even though every spin so far has felt sufficiently hefty to refer to as a full-length. Six songs clocking in at over 30 minutes -- it's the band's next stepping stone in their journey from the recording studio into your earbuds and mine.

Aurora by CAVE OF SWIMMERS

'Aurora' (2021) plays like the first songbird of spring, if you'll indulge my idyllic wording for a moment. It's just so full of earnestness, life, and yes joy. Three things that we've been longing for in the midst of so much treachery and nihilistic despair. Hell, I consider myself something of a nihilist, but this band melts away my grim pessimism. It's all encapsulated in the thrashy, downtuned attack married to a kind of urgent Latin vibe that says "We've got one night left to live, let's die with a smile!"

After an atmospheric introduction that foreshadows material still to come, we're treated to "The Sun," which the band released as a single awhile back. I remember telling them at the time, "You guys should be huge." I meant it with all my heart, too. Certainly, this isn't watered down pop music fare, yet I think the average heavy music listener will find it wholly accessible. I'd put this Cave of Swimmers neck-and-neck with any Top 50 touring metal act, based on this track alone. Maybe I'm just enamored of their sound and being less than objective. So sue me.

Next up: "Double Rainbow," which is a kind of resurrection of optimism. Hope for a new and better tomorrow. "Forget the hate, forget the scene, forget the life of complacency," Guillermo sings. "A second arc, new scenery, our time is here. Don’t let it go! When I hear it, I too want to believe." It's a message that's especially important for us to convey to the next generation of rockers and metalheads, lest they be weighed down by our own disillusionment and mistakes. This is a song that encourages that that brash, foolhardy youthful joie de vivre and its power to change the status quo.

"My Human" opens up with a burst of syncopated guitar that reminds me of something Tom Morello likes to cook up, but its mere window dressing for a song that develops into something purely Cave of Swimmers. A single melodic line of epic singing accented by a soft layer of synthesizer lays out the verse, followed by one headbanger of a chorus. It's a song about companionship and the consolation that we can have in one another, if we will only open ourselves up long enough to being truly human. To give and in turn receive. It also seems to speak of a hope beyond this life, at least in some ethereal, metaphysical sense.

"Looking Glass'' unloads a spitfire of "Say hello to my little friend!" style riffage that rips open into a chorus I could definitely take with me to salsa lessons, if I were to dare return. Remind me to tell you about the time I accidently cracked a partner's nose with my elbow while trying to pull off one of those fancy turn-and-swing maneuvers. Sigh. Some of us have no rhythm, whatsoever. But I recognize a good slam-dancing song when I hear it!

Which leads me to talk "Dirt." Much more gritty than its predecessors, accompanied by a spooky synth of the kind Rob Zombie or Acid Witch are apt to toy with. Even as the mood turns grim, it's a foot shuffler nonetheless. And there's no denying the power of those soaring, falconesque vocals. Guillermo seems capable of transporting listeners to a higher plane of consciousness. Good thing, too, because the message is that we've all been living in our mental prisons for far too long, reinforced by "pride and ego trips."

Billions of us Where are we going to? Chasing our tails around the sun Bleeding our hearts Divided and conquered, too Buy us for sale at the dollar store Raised like pigs on dirt

It's time to break free. The song ends with a section of flamenco-style guitar executed with deft classical technique. It reminded me a bit of Psychroptic's "Euphorinasia" -- another song that makes brilliant use of acoustic guitar.

"C.S." is Cave of Swimmer's swan song -- a send-back to their earliest work. Their reprisal reminds me of something Metallica would do. There's a certain "Nothing Else Matters" mood about it all. Then out of nowhere, a spurt of volcanic riffage and mad drumming breaks out into a Gojiraesque hoe-down. Oh yes, and there's another celebratory trve metal guitar solo lodged in there juxtaposed with complex rhythmic percussion.

I'm telling you, Cave of Simmers cannot be beat. The game belongs to them. Their time is now. Give ear...

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[taylorj8771]

The retirement fic

Here it is. The next part. Thank you to Visionshadows for all your help with getting this section as best as it’ll likely ever get. It really did a number on me…

Update: I was finally able to add the links! Thanks for bearing with me.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

—————————————

Part of the process of Sidney being approved as an Adoption Family includes meeting with Synia in her office roughly once every other week. They started having the meetings a week after his initial paperwork was filed, around the time their daily phone-calls ended. So far it's mostly been Synia getting to know Sidney better so she can determine how he may fit with children the agency has ready to be placed.

Much to Sidney's own surprise, he actually has started to think of her as more of a friend that he can share all of his secrets with. It’s an important distinction for him that it's a requirement he does but he’s genuinely enjoyed their conversations. They’ve met three times in the last six weeks, all uneventful talk about how he was raised and how he’d like to raise his own child, before she sits him down for a "serious talk". He's not sure what to expect but he sits somberly in the chair across from her desk and waits patiently for her to begin.

She shuffles a few papers around before clasping her hands together on top of her desk and leaning forward. "We received the results of the background check just the other day and we’ve made a few phone calls to the references on your application."

She looks a little like a teacher who's having to scold a student she likes, torn but clearly obligated.

"Is there something you left off of your paperwork that you would like to tell me about?"

"Uh…" Sidney shifts in his seat, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Sidney,” she pauses, “why don't any of your references know that you're married?"

A rush of breath leaves him like he’s been punched in the gut. He tries to swallow but his mouth is suddenly too dry and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears. The only other sound he can hear is his jaw clicking but it's like his whole voice box bailed and he can't make a sound.

"We couldn't reach your husband by phone, either."

"Geno's in Russia." He spits out the first lie he can think of. "He's been back there for a while, taking care of his family."

Synia levels him with a look that clearly says I was not born yesterday. "Taking care of family for five years, Sidney?"

He winces and shrugs all in one motion and lowers his eyes to stare at the floor in front of her desk.

"Look Sidney, I meant it when I said that I’m your friend in this. I want to help you get the child you want. I’m going to be honest with you, it does not look good that we only found out about this because of the background check. I need you to help me understand this, okay?"

Synia shifts back in her chair and waits patiently while Sidney weighs the very few options he has in front of him. There is only one choice, though, if he ever wants to have a family of his own. He raises his eyes to meet hers and asks, mouth dry and his voice cracking, "This stays between us?”

"Everything you say in this room stays completely between us."

Sidney nods once and clears his throat. He tries to figure out the best place to start their story, so she can understand it all — it’s so long winded, he already knows, but it will only make sense from the beginning and he needs her on his side.

He swallows hard and when he speaks again, his voice is soft. "First, it’s a sham marriage.” Synia opens her mouth and Sidney hurried to speak before she does. “Geno and I got married twenty years ago."

He shifts in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He keeps his eyes down, hoping that the lines on the carpet of her office will morph into words for him to read like a script.

"None of my references know because we never told any of them. We never told anyone.”

He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly.

“Geno is from Russia and you have to know that Russia is nothing like the US. Most of the government is corrupt and capable of doing some of the most depraved things. The KHL, where Geno played his first couple of professional hockey years, is part of that. When he first came to the US to play they made a lot of problems for him. He had a lot of trouble getting his visa and was almost deported until ownership was able to break his contract with his team in Russia. When his entry level contract here was ending, we were all really nervous about what would happen for him.

“Geno had a very real fear of being blackmailed into going back. Even after we won the Cup, he was afraid they’d try to take the NHL away from him. If he had already accomplished everything he could in the NHL, there was nothing new for him to bring back home for them to claim as theirs.”

Sidney rubs his hands together and takes a quick glance up at Synia. She’s watching him with an attentive expression and he soldiers on.

“It was just after we won the Cup in oh-nine. A group of us were talking at one of the parties, completely trashed of course, and someone made a comment about how Geno could get a green card if he married an American. He wouldn’t ever have to worry about his old team doing something to get him back if he was an American citizen. We all laughed about it at the time. It seemed ridiculous. I mean, our twenty-two year old friend who barely spoke English finding an American to marry him?

“But it stayed with me through the summer. How my best friend wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than playing hockey. The fear that had been weighing him down could just be gone -” Sidney snaps his fingers. “- like that.”

“One thing you have to understand is that Geno was one of the best friend I have ever had and I was terrified of losing him.”

Sidney scrubs his hand down over his face. “I tried to find a friend that would marry him. I figured it was only two years out of someone’s life for him to get his green card. Everyone I spoke to thought I was absolutely crazy. One of my friends finally told me that I shouldn’t ask a favor of someone that I wasn’t prepared to do myself.

“And that really got me thinking. Gay marriage was legal in Canada and dual-citizenship there was just as good for Geno as in the US. It wouldn’t have been great if it had gotten out that I’d married a guy but at least it wouldn’t have been a lie for me since I’m bi. So just before training camp started, I asked Geno to marry me.

“He thought I was nuts.” Sidney smiles at the memory, his eyes crinkling. “I mean, I definitely was, but that’s not the point. I told him everything I’d been thinking about and after a couple months of talking it out, he agreed.

“I went home for the All-Star break and applied for the marriage license. A couple of months later when we had a break in the schedule, we flew up to Nova Scotia and went to the courthouse for a civil ceremony.” He laughs sadly. “I don’t even know who the people who signed as our witnesses are.

“We were just kids, you know?” Sidney looks up at Synia, his voice wistful. “I don’t know why we thought a marriage license could stay secret but the citizenship paperwork couldn’t. The marriage was his ‘get out of jail’ free card so we never divorced. Neither of us ever found anyone we wanted to marry for real, either. And honestly, I think we both just forgot over the years.

“I didn’t put his information on the paperwork because I don’t ever think about it. I’ve never thought of myself as actually married.”

Synia clears her throat. “And now?” She asks.

Sidney looks at her, questioning.

“Where is Geno now?”

“Oh, he was injured about five years ago and decided to retire. We still talk but he doesn’t come back to Pittsburgh often."

"I see," She says, pausing to take a long, drawn out breath. She looks overwhelmed, like she didn't expect any of that story to come pouring out and like she's not quite sure she should believe it. Sidney tries to keep eye contact with her but he can feel his face making all sorts of twitching motions that he can't control. Finally, Synia unclasps her hands and shuffles a few papers around again. "Is Geno going to be a part of the adoption?"

“Uh…” is all he says, thrown off by how she jumps right back to the issue at hand.

"Is he going to stay in Russia?"

"I don't–I don't know. We haven't talked."

"In five years?"

Sidney scowls. “No. Just not often since he went back to Russia. We're still close but after twenty years we don’t have to talk every day to stay that way."

"I have some friends like that, too." Synia smiles fondly. She lifts a hand to her face and scrubs it down over her eyes.

“I have to be honest, Sid, this whole 'finding out you're actually married' thing has really thrown me for a loop."

"I'm sorry.”

"It would've been nice to know about before filing your paperwork, is all. It's not something we can't figure out a work-around for but you're going to need to head home and have a serious conversation with Geno."

Sidney nods.

"I'm not sure if this marriage is considered dissolved naturally or if, because of the duration, it's still in tact. We can change your paperwork to say that you're separated or you can apply for a divorce if that's something you're comfortable with. I can’t say if either of those will hurt your reputation as an Adoption Family but they certainly won’t help. Or." Synia pauses.

Sidney feels like his heart stops beating in the silence. She voice lowers and Sidney leans in to listen.

"It's much easier to adopt a newborn as a married couple. Most women who put their unborn child up for adoption want to know that the baby will be going to a loving home with two parents. It would up your odds, if Geno was on board with this and here to help you."

Sidney's chest starts to tingle and warmth flushes his cheeks as he registers her words. "Do you really…?" He trails off, refusing to let his hopes lift.

"Is he still your best friend?" Synia asks.

"I like to think so."

"Then talk to him first, Sidney. And we'll figure out your options from there. Okay?"

He nods, swallowing around the hope he can feel building up in his throat. "Okay." Sidney stands to shake her hand. He’s smiling when he leaves her office.

[iamsoneurotic]

Enter, Levi: The Final Chapter Part II

8 Months later is better than never I guess.

I had intended to write a second post about Levi’s birth (as I did with both Milo and Noli), but as it turns out, free time isn’t really a thing when you have 3 kids. Go figure. Anyway, where did I leave off… The boy was born.

The C-section left Rachael bedridden for the duration of our stay at the hospital, which is pretty typical. From what I’ve been told, it’s not so bad - the doctors load you up with pain meds and you’re out the door in a couple of days, ready to take on the world with a baby in one hand and a bottle full of pills in the other. Well, due to an allergy to Ibuprofen, Rach was denied the good drugs and had to settle for a less effective Tylenol substitute which may have been less effective than somebody flicking her in the ear to distract her from the pain in her healing wound. To make matters even worse, she was fighting a horrible cough and every hack of the lung made her feel like she was being gutted like a fish.

As sort of an icing on the crap cake, her IV slipped out of her vein at some point during the first night and caused her arm to swell and rash. Her stay was divine to say the least.

Speaking of crap cakes, guess who was on diaper duty by default! Well that’s nothing new, I’m usually on diaper duty just because my lovely wife secretly loathes me (we have a dog now, by the way. Guess who gets the honor of cleaning up his little backyard nuggets). This particular series of diaper changes, however, stands out more than the others because Levi pooped a mountain’s worth over the next few weeks. Not exaggerating. He went through every phase on the newborn poo color wheel in a matter of hours. Something was clearly afoot, I’ve been around this whole breastfeeding business for a while now and I know for a fact he was exporting more than he was taking in. Pretty sure milk doesn’t have corn in it either.

There’s a video of his first changing… I can’t even post it. It’s just that awful. I don’t even know why we would have filmed something like that in the first place.

One last poo item to discuss - there was one nurse who was a complete POS. Her shift consisted of coldly telling Rachael to suck it up and walk so they could discharge us and berating her about everything she did ranging from how she breastfed Levi to, I don’t know, the way she wore her hair that day. She was a real piece of work. Not sure if there’s a polite way to wish Ebola on somebody, but I’m all ears.

There was a bright side to Rachael being confined to her bed, it meant I got more time to hold Levi. Given the stress of his birth, I had no desire to ever put him down - thank goodness he only weighed a little over 6lbs, our lightest one yet!

I noticed while holding him that he bore a striking resemblance to Don Rickles.

Leading up to the birth, I had “joked” that I was looking forward to the time away from the kids while we stayed at the hospital. I was wrong, I missed my babies. Before we had left, Noli was really upset that we were leaving him - that image of him sitting on the steps broken hearted was burned into my brain the whole visit. Milo didn’t seem to care much, he gets away with more when daddy’s not home (Noli was yet to figure this out). So after 2 days of not showering, Rachael approved of my release so I could go home, see the boys, scrub the thin layer of Italian grease off of my flesh, and let her mom see the baby for a while.

It was a nice little visit. The boys and I wrestled, built Legos, and I showed them pictures of the baby. Noli was needier than usual and didn’t like that I had to leave again to go back to the hospital, luckily my mom stopped by to take the boys to her place so I could catch a break for a few… For the record, however, I didn’t take a break for fear that Rachael would sense my relaxation and unleash the hordes of hell upon me.

Advice for any new dads out there: NEVER enjoy yourself while your wife is in pain or holding a child. Don’t close your eyes, don’t smile, don’t sit comfortably in a chair, and if you absolutely HAVE to eat, make sure the food gives you indigestion… But not diarrhea, because woman have figured out that bathrooms are a man’s place of peace. There can be no peace.

…

I’m literally not kidding.

Long story short - she thought I was gone too long and as penance, I bought her Pei Wei and she reluctantly showed mercy.

I screwed a number of things up with this birth. First was posting Levi’s picture to Facebook before Rachael had even seen him, second was having the audacity to take a shower at our house, and the third thing happened after being discharged from the hospital. When we got home, I rushed the baby into the house so he wouldn’t get cold. Inside the house my parents were waiting with cameras to film the boys’ reaction to the new addition. Well, in my haste, I failed to wait for Rachael (who was hobbling up the sidewalk in excruciating c-section pain) - depriving her of the opportunity to see the boys’ reaction live. I’m currently serving a life sentence in the doghouse for my foolish ways.

All screw-ups aside, the evening went well. Noli, who we were most nervous about adjusting to a newborn, held the baby in his lap (with heavy amounts of assistance). It was a giant relief. Milo loved the kid at first sight, 8 months later he’s still in love with the little guy… I’m a proud dad. My parents went home, Rach attempted sleep, and late that evening I wrote  “Enter, Levi: The Final Chapter Part I”. A masterpiece in biographical storytelling.

For the next few days Rachael was stuck sleeping on the couch until her incision healed more; getting out of bed was too painful. So we spent our evenings watching the Winter Olympics while Levi slept on our chests. In the mornings my mother-in-law would treat us to fresh grapefruit & oatmeal breakfasts and I would grab us Starbucks on the way back from dropping the boys off at school. It was a really nice couple of days… I even finally buckled down and got my Texas Driver’s License! Only took me 3 years to make the effort.

We nicknamed Levi “Popeye” because he would always wink his one eye and make scrunchy faces. In retrospect, I should have thought to tape a little pipe to his pacifier. Dangit! During this time, I discovered that the sound of a crying baby isn’t as horrific sounding as it had been in the past. Milo’s cries would send me into a panic, and Noli’s would just irritate me… I find Levi’s cries on the adorable end of the spectrum. It’s probably because this will be our last kid (assuming all goes according to plan). I’m taking in the infancy more, trying to make it last and enjoy every moment. Sure, I still get frustrated - that’s what babies do to you, but I’m enjoying the ride more… I know I’ll miss it. I still wish I could pull baby Milo out of the photos on my phone and hold him.

If I’m not writing a ton about Levi in this post, it’s because the kid was just so darn chill as a newborn. He didn’t give me much more material than “Awww, how cute”... And he was definitely cute (still is - all my babies are).

While both boys were great with Levi, Noli had gotten increasingly needy. I’m not going to lie, it was downright infuriating sometimes to deal with it. I took him out one day to give him some one on one time, the plan was to buy him a ‘gift from Levi’. I told him Levi gave me money to buy him a toy (kids are so gullible!)... I should have specified how much money Levi actually gave me because $60 later we had a brand new Lego Spiderman play set which took me an hour to build and only 10 seconds for Noli to destroy. 10 glorious seconds of him leaving me alone.

The nightmare was only beginning.

Rachael’s mom had stuck around for a few weeks to help out around the house while we got acclimated to all the changes. The hope was that anything that could have gone wrong would have gone wrong while she was here and we’d have the extra hands… But Murphy’s Law is real, kids. Thanks to the joys of school, Noli came down with the flu a day or two before my mother-in-law was leaving. Just the thing you want around a newborn! And there would be no extra hands. Before we even got home from the hospital, Rach began packing her bags to stay with my folks until our house was no longer contaminated with disgusting little boy germs (Milo was beginning to run a fever as well).

Rachael and Levi staying with my parents didn’t ease my worries, however. The boys are constantly sticking their grubby little fingers all over my face (why their fingers are always moist I’ll never understand). The fingers occasionally go in my mouth because kids are weird and have no boundaries. That mouth is incapable of not being on baby Levi’s face… Because those cheeks. All I could think was that I had given my newborn baby boy the flu and it was an awful feeling. I had shown no signs of having the flu, but it takes a few days before symptoms even start, so everything was up in the air… Just like the flu running rampant in my house. It was a waiting game and I hate waiting.

So it was me, the boys and my mother-in-law, and I only had her help for about two days before she had to go back home. Thank God for moms is all I have to say. She made sure we all took everything we needed, when we needed to take it, and I’m pretty sure she kept me flu-free, because (spoiler) I never caught it and luckily neither did Rach or Levi.

Those few days, however, were difficult for an entirely non-flu-related reason… Needy Noli. By this point he had already been driving me nuts with the constant need for attention, but the flu just made it worse. Today I was looking through the texts Rachael and I were sending each other and every other message was me going out of my mind while Noli stalked me around the house. It was like one of those dreams where you’re being chased by some unknown entity and it always finds you no matter where you hide. You’d think the flu would have destroyed his sense of smell, but somehow it was heightened. There was no escape.

All he wanted was to play legos… Legos which by now were CRAWLING with flu germs. Every click those blocks made when I connected them was like the empty click of a revolver in a deadly game of Russian Roulette. Sitting in that pool of Legos (we have a LOT of Legos) was like swimming in a pool of flu-juice. I swear some of them were wet.

Then my mother-in-law flew home… and it was just me and the flu-zombies.

Thank goodness for my Dad. He took one for the team and later that evening risked his good health to save me from the inevitable misery that awaited me with those kids. The man is fearless. My memory of that week is a little hazy, but I’m 80% sure he arrived via horse. When he got to the house, he told me to get out and enjoy myself for a few while he spent time with the little petri dishes. Even Noli let me leave the house! So I grabbed my iPad and booked it to Starbucks where I spent the next 2 hours sipping Lattes, drawing, and watching videos of Levi that Rach would send me.

The week was no doubt hard - dodging sneezes, dealing with neediness and the usual parenting frustrations… But the hardest part was being away from Levi. I spent 9 months waiting for the little stinker and barely got to know him before he left me for a week. There was a constant stream of videos and photos coming from Rach, but it only made it harder. There was one evening when Rach stopped by with some food and I snuck out to see her. She had Levi in the van and I had to just stare at him from the window (as I was still unsure if I was sick or not). It was torture.

Rach on the other hand was living the good life at Hotel De’Marianelli with my mom. Pampering, baby assistance, hot meals… and a Boxer who quickly became a therapy dog. When Rach arrived at the house that first night, she was a nervous wreck. She started crying when she came in the door and Roxy (the Boxer) ran up to her, put her head on Rachael’s chest and just stared at her. She’d lick the baby’s feet constantly and anytime Levi woke up from a nap crying, Roxy would book it into the room to check on him.

Dogs are the best. Not to speak ill of the dead, but our cat would have just pee’d on the crib.

Fast forwarding ahead, the boys started feeling better, I never got sick, and seeing as my dad’s work was finished, he went back home… I seem to remember him riding off on a chariot of fire. The details are hazy.

One last thing remained… The disinfecting of the Legos.

20% of them ended up down the drain. I hope they never return.

Finally my baby came home. I refused to let him go that night… Or the next night. If I could lactate, Rach would have never gotten him back.

I make good babies. ~ M.

[sirtadcooper]

I’ve Been Tagged

I was tagged by the lovely @lullapiee! :)

1. Are you named after anyone? I ask this to my folks and they shrug but then back in January I met a neighbour of my mum’s whose name is also Ruth, so...

2. When was the last time you cried? I can’t actually remember but I did get a bit teary a day or two ago when I was thinking about the Doctor and Bill and what it must have meant for Bill to have an authority figure, or at least someone that wasn’t one of her peers, that she could be completely herself with. Those two make me emotional!

3. Do you like your handwriting? It’s practically Comic Sans. I like it.

4. What’s your favourite lunch meat? Ham... or chicken. Depends on accompaniments.

5. Do you have kids? No. I have lambs.

6. If you were a different person, would you be friends with you? Maybe? I find my sense of humour to be on point. Also puns.

7. Do you use sarcasm? It may be the lowest form of wit but I sure scrape the bottom of that barrel with enthusiasm.

8. Do you still have your tonsils? Yep.

9. Would you bungee jump? No. I am a scaredy-cat. Someone would have to push me, but then I would hate them.

10. What’s your favourite cereal? I love Crunchy Nut but have you seen how much sugar is in it!? So instead I have Coco Pops Rocks! Yum!

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? No. I prise them off. @lullapiee’s mum would be angry with me too.

12. Do you think you are a strong person? While not physically fit, many farm chores require me to be able to lift heavy things. I try not to lift things beyond my limit though - anything under 20 kilos is easy, under 30 is a bit harder. Actually today I had a test of strength with Rosie the pet ewe - she probably weighs 100 kilos or more and she wanted to go in one direction and I needed her to go in the other. I ended up pushing her while she was pushing as hard as she could in the opposite direction! I did win but it was quite an effort!

13. What’s your favourite ice cream? It used to be cookie dough but then I discovered pralines and cream!

14. What’s the first thing you notice about people? It depends, I suppose. Maybe their hair? Or what they’re wearing? Or their smile or lack thereof?

15. What’s your least favourite physical thing about yourself? The general roundness.

16. What colour pants and shoes are you wearing right now? Mid-wash blue denim jeans and no shoes.

17. What are you listening to right now? I’ve got my playlist on. Rather than shuffle I’ve put it on to the “Whouffaldi section” - that is, songs that I found on my fanvid watching spree during series 9. As I type this it’s on Animal by Neon Trees. Ah, nostalgia...

18. If you were a crayon what colour would you be? Blue with glitter! That’s the first thing that popped into my head. Does such a crayon even exist?

19. Favourite smell? I have lots so this time I’m putting horses.

20. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone with? My friend to arrange our night out this evening. We’re off to see Thor: Ragnarok and I’m picking her up at 8! So excited!

21. Favourite sport to watch? I don’t really watch sports, but if I’m doing some cleaning on a Saturday afternoon I’ll put on the racing. Not for the betting or anything - I just like watching the horses.

22. Hair colour? Brown.

23. Eye colour? Blue.

24. Do you wear contacts? I’m a glasses person.

25. Favourite food? Things involving pasta and bread. Also chocolate.

26. Scary movie or comedy? Comedy, every time.

27. Last movie you watched? The Road to ElDorado. I recently got Netflix and it popped up as a suggestion. Ever since I was little it’s been a film I’ve always wanted to see so I sat down with popcorn on Saturday night and watched it. It was fun!

28. What colour shirt are you wearing? It’s one from The Mountain. A black Labrador on a brown background wearing a stetson hat.

29. Summer or Winter? Winter!

30. Hugs or kisses? Hugs!

31. Book you’re currently reading? Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. One day I will finish these books!

32. Who do you miss right now? The autumn leaves. Thanks a bunch, Ophelia.

33. What’s on your mouse pad? I’ve only got a laptop, but if I did have a mousepad it would probably have one of my own photos on it.

34. What’s the last TV programme you watched? The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. I’m watching at least an episode a day. So good!

35. What’s the best sound? My pet sheep when they bleat back at me after I’ve said hello.

36. Rolling Stone or the Beatles? They’re both pretty good... at a push, the Beatles, but only at a push!

37. What’s the furthest you’ve ever travelled? London, thrice.

38. Do you have a special talent? I can remember the backstories and family histories of random sheep.

39. Where were you born? Northern Ireland.

I’m going to tag ten of my mutuals: @doctormuggle, @alphacentauriiswatchingyou, @tillthenexttimedoctor, @medinaquirin, @clarasleafs, @whobeans, @karmaplus, @harrydraco, @watsonspavlova and @memoriesbecomestories, if you’d like to have a go! :)

[ntrending]

Exploding bolts let us travel through space

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/exploding-bolts-let-us-travel-through-space/

Exploding bolts let us travel through space

From the next room, through a thick granite wall, comes a chug-a-chug-a-chug-a, like an old steam train closing in. Rounding the corner, I see the source of the racket: a table, shaking. The long, metal slab jerks quickly back and forth. On it, in two neat rows, are a half-dozen rectangular prisms packed with sensors measuring pressure and motion. Each one holds a titanium-alloy bolt the size of a grown man’s forearm and weighing about 10 pounds. As the elaborate assemblage might hint, these bolts are special.

Eventually, this remarkable hardware will go to space. The bolts, or ones like them, will hold together sections of the Orion spacecraft, a new vehicle that, sometime in the next decade, will carry humans out of low-Earth orbit for the first time since 1972—initially to the moon and later on trips to Mars. But ­before that, the fasteners must survive a mock version of their journey. Only worse.

The shaking they’re enduring is merely the beginning, intended to simulate the ­violence of a launch. The parts also brave hammering, baking, and freezing—24 tests in total. All this before any metal even reaches the launchpad. The abuse ensures not only that the bolts will hold together massive space-faring machines, but that, at the exact right moment, they’ll break neatly apart. More specifically, they’ll explode, strategically jettisoning segments of Orion’s rocketry as they do.

The design, manufacture, and most of the testing of this combustible hardware happens in an old stone factory in Eastern Connecticut, where engineers have crammed various items full of pyrotechnic material for well over a century. The 200-acre campus of 19th-century brownstone, granite, and brick—a look that’s part factory town, part college—is the home of the Ensign-Bickford Aerospace & Defense Company (or EBAD, because what’s a defense contractor without a vaguely sinister acronym?). EBAD is one of more than 2,000 companies making Orion’s nuts and bolts (and ceramics, fabrics, and springs) for ­Lockheed Martin, NASA’s main contractor on the project.

EBAD’s components are a bit player in this space epic, but the firm’s mission-critical role gives it an outsize gravitational pull. Of the 5.5 million pounds of rocketry (collectively known as NASA’s Space Launch System) and other equipment that will hurtle Orion out of the atmosphere, only 20,500—less than 0.38 percent—will come back to Earth. “The last thing we want to do is take all the stuff at launch to the moon and back,” explains Carolyn Overmyer, Lockheed’s deputy manager for the Orion crew capsule (where the astronauts ride). “We don’t need the blast system at the moon. So where does it go? It separates. It’s a ‘sep event.’” In plain English: Stuff falls off.

The exploding bolts are the catalyst in that process, “central to our mission,” Overmyer says.

There are eight separations in a complete Orion journey to the moon and back. One of the first occurs three minutes after launch: The bolts split alongside ­explosive-​­powder-​laced zippering fissures called frangible joints to discard the loads that get Orion off the ground. Three nearly-two-story panels, called fairings, that protected the craft from the heat of liftoff simply drop. “A 15-foot-tall coffee can goes boom! and just flies away,” Overmyer says, recalling the first time she watched the panels split from the craft during a test flight. “I know it sounds silly to say it, but I found it very, very beautiful.”

As the mission progresses, more systems become irrelevant and break off. The final thing to go is the service module, a trash-can-shaped pod that houses all the liquids and gases for the mission; it holds on to the Orion capsule throughout the 1.3-million-​mile journey on the strength of four fasteners made for this exact task. When the crew-­carrying vessel begins its dive back to Earth, the fasteners split and release the pod, which then burns up.

Preparing these bolts for their pivotal moment—their perfect failure—presents as a kind of Zen koan. How to fully test a thing that works exactly once? How do you design something that, in order to do its job, must fail?

Part of the answer is revealed in the threaded fasteners, called release and retention bolts, shaking and rattling on the table. Of all the variations of hardware EBAD builds for Orion, these must suffer the most intense torture, both here on Earth and in space. “We beat the hell out of ’em,” says Steve Thurston, EBAD’s manager of test services, as he watches the heroic fixtures rumble angrily against the table’s motion. Thurston turns and walks toward a quieter spot and says softly, almost solemnly: “It’s really not fair to the parts. But that’s the point—to find their limits, to push the envelope.”

Outside, a morning rain gives way to the bright-green beginning of a fall day. A river, which once powered EBAD’s works, winds through the campus; a family of otters has taken up residence. It’s hard to square the setting with what goes on behind the aged stone walls: space-age bolts getting stretched (and mashed and bashed and rattled) to their limits.

Simsbury, Connecticut, has been home to EBAD since well before the Civil War. Back then, there were iron and copper mines and granite quarries throughout the region, which meant a lot of digging and an awful lot of booms. The methods were crude: Dig a hole, fill it with gunpowder, plug it except for a small space to run a fuse (usually string or cloth), light, run. Men died by the hundreds, often because things blew when they weren’t supposed to—mostly too soon.

In 1831, these techniques began to change—​become more refined, predictable, safe. In the city of Cornwall in Old England, where there was even more mining than in New England, an inventor named William Bickford patented the first safety fuse. Bickford packed gunpowder into a hollow jute rope, which then fizzled at a predictable clip of roughly 30 seconds per foot. In 1839, he partnered with a Connecticut mining company to manufacture and sell his burners stateside. Ralph Hart Ensign joined on in 1870. His heirs would later expand the firm’s explosives business beyond fuses, developing products such as a banker’s bag that smoked when a crook tampered with it.

Dave Novotney, head of business development, quickly walks me through this century-plus of history as he winds up to a crucial point. He pushes back from his desk and lays it out: “We blow things up here. We are very good at it. We’ve been doing it for a long, long time.” But the key, even in Bickford’s day, is timing. Timing was—and still is—everything.

For no one is this truer than the astronauts inside a small hunk of metal hurtling through space at 20,000 miles an hour. Which is why, almost paradoxically, in missions with humans, there’s explosive powder planted in dozens of spots throughout the craft. It does what you want it to do when you need it to.

NASA doesn’t call these propellants “explosives.” Instead, they’re pyrotechnical systems, or pyro, in which so-called separation bolts are a central part. An electronic switch called an actuator delivers a charge to a threaded incendiary cord that leads to the fastener. The event is over in a fraction of a millisecond—about ­one-​millionth of a blink of a human eye.

The space agency has relied on this type of fast action, also common in ejector seats and weapons deployment, from its beginnings. The Mercury missions of the late 1950s and early 1960s experimented with pyro, though not always with stellar results; an escape-hatch misfire at splashdown during the Mercury 4 flight flooded the capsule and nearly drowned an astronaut. NASA got better at controlling booms by the Gemini program of the mid-’60s, which added new structures such as pyrotechnically deployed landing gear. By the Apollo missions of the late ’60s and early ’70s, 210 bits of explosive tech took on 24 mechanical functions—from separating the lunar lander to releasing parachutes for descent—on the crafts that first brought humans to the moon. EBAD provided pyro for many of these small-but-mighty ignitions.

The explosions, however, took a backseat during the shuttle program. The space planes relied more on motorized, reusable systems—ones that dock and undock attachments, including spacewalking astronauts. Motors, however, aren’t perfect, Stu McClung, a NASA engineer who works on ­Orion’s pyro and spent nearly two decades on the shuttle, later explains to me. They’re several seconds slower than pyro, can be pounds heavier, and worst, they can also break down. So he still favors detonations as a failsafe. “If something ever went wrong, we could just fracture it, and head on home.”

Today, electric action is increasingly in demand for satellites and unmanned systems, such as the James Webb telescope and the OSIRIS-REx asteroid sampler, which have solar arrays that need to gently unfurl. “The good news is pyro systems act really quick,” Novotney quips. “The bad news is they act really quick.” Also sad for our lug-​­headed friends: SpaceX founder Elon Musk, whose ethos centers on reusability, is not a fan of the bang.

EBAD had very little kit on the shuttle, and years ago, Novotney noticed most space business was moving away from pyro altogether. Orion, though, is a throwback to the pre-shuttle era—a time reliant on controlled detonation—and a chance for the company to leverage its explosive bona fides. So Novotney bid, eager to catch a once-in-a-generation craft before it flew by.

Now he and a team of engineers are somewhat obsessed with the trial and error of bolt-­making. The end result of their work occasionally winds up in Novotney’s office, in a yellow bucket deep with shards of spent fasteners he likes to show off to visitors. Peering down at this refuse, it looks more like discarded lengths of filled-in pipe than hyperengineered and endlessly tested exploding space stuff. Their task is dead simple yet takes years to perfect: Stay together, break apart, help deliver the crew back to Earth. “It’s not like you can suddenly change your mind and send Bruce Willis out on a rescue mission,” Novotney says. “You’re coming home, and that’s it.”

EBAD has been alternately making and breaking Orion hardware since 2009. When it began, Lockheed delivered reams of documents with specs, first a few hundred pages, then several thousand more. Still, EBAD wasn’t starting from scratch. The company established a Space Ordnance Division to make specialized fuses in 1965, and a handful of other companies—even NASA—had been crafting separation bolts since the ’50s. So, the broad strokes were, by the early aughts, already out there.

To perfect a bolt that also must, when called upon, be decidedly unboltlike, EBAD engineers spend an outsize amount of time worrying the hardware’s weakest point: the fracture plane, the epicenter of the eventual break. Lockheed’s Overmyer likens it to folded paper: “When you bend it, you make the crease really strong so it breaks at that line,” she explains. If the hardware was going to split too soon, like during launch, it’d happen here. On a bolt, the plane is a razor-thin notch circumnavigating the titanium surface, about two-thirds from one end. In EBAD’s early testing days for Orion, the designers fiddled with the placement, the depth. Most important, they carefully paired it with the internal structures and explosives that would ensure a clean break at the right time, every time.

As they work on their refinements, the rules keep changing. Halfway through development—after more than a dozen bolt iterations and a couple of vehicle tests—NASA determined the Orion service module needed to go on a serious diet to make room for the systems that would support human life for its eventual two-year trip to the Red Planet and back. About 3,000 pounds had to disappear from the then-49,000-pound vehicle. For EBAD that meant fewer, burlier bolts. Instead of six fasteners that would need to last nearly the entire journey, they’d have four, which saves about 25 pounds. “This caused some headaches,” says Sean Keon, an EBAD engineer who oversees design. They made the bolt all over again, adding some girth and about a quarter-inch of length. The tweaks allowed each to hold more than 100,000 tons, so Orion could lose two without concern.

RELATED: What could life on Mars look like? This Chilean desert holds some clues.

The team machines the bolts according to exact specs; if their measurements are off by more than 1⁄1,000 inch, they’re no good. But the real trick to building these Herculean fasteners isn’t building them. It’s test after test after test. In addition to the shaker table, all the parts run through trials that simulate versions of the mission’s extremes. EBAD freezes them down to minus 100 degrees and heats them to 210 degrees, which ensures their fuses won’t spontaneously ignite midflight under the sun’s glare. To prove the bolts can hold tight through the shock wave of rocket ignition, they suffer three 6,000‑G whacks from Thor-worthy steel hammers.

Throughout the process, engineers check and recheck the bolts. They remeasure them to make sure their forms haven’t yielded under pressure. X-rays ensure that all of their internal parts are present—and in the right place—and a fluorescent dye highlights cracks as tiny as 0.03 inches long. Once EBAD is satisfied, some nine fasteners from each manufacturing batch head to Lockheed and NASA, which put the pieces through more abusive paces. If any of the hardware has a bad test or a fissure, EBAD pulls the whole lot, and the process starts all over again.

RELATED VIDEO: Sputnik-2 or: Laika, Our Hero

Another way to monitor the success of an explosive space bolt is to watch it blow. This happens so fast that observing the boom is terribly underwhelming. There’s almost nothing to see. Like magic. Only it’s not.

The only way to really “see” the explosions is in slow-​­motion video running at a fraction of the rate human eyes can naturally glimpse—at least 100,000 frames per second. And even then, plenty remains hidden, including the electrical charge that sets off a series of tiny detonations that ultimately ignites an organic propellant inside a pressure cartridge. The propellant generates enough energy to drive two internal pistons. The pair then slam against one another with enough force to cause the all-important fracture plane to finally, perfectly, once and for all, fail. From the outside, it looks like the bolt is pulling itself apart.

Spacecrafts have redundancies everywhere, including inside the bolts. There are two pressure cartridges, next to each other. If the primary one doesn’t fire, the electric charge continues on, tapping and igniting the second. If both fire at the same time, which sometimes happens, the shell can still contain the force.

But the job isn’t finished once you pull off the explosion. The break itself can cause problems, because, in space, debris is a killer. A tiny fragment of bolt, hurtling around Orion at thousands of miles per hour, could easily smash a solar panel or pierce an important piece of electronics, ending the mission. This is why, when the fasteners nestle among their testing sensors and ultimately snap in two, there is a little baggie dangling underneath to capture debris. Lockheed analyzes the refuse to ensure there are no pieces large enough to cause problems. They review the slo-mo tape too, checking the velocity of anything shooting away from the fracture and the craft.

Being certain about where broken parts wind up is doubly important for the most heroic bolts, the ones that secure the crew capsule to its trash-can-shaped life support until the mission’s near-final moments. Pieces of that hardware must stay on the craft, and contribute to another vital feature. After the bolts split, the shards remaining on the capsule melt slightly and become part of the heat shield, throwing off excess heat and helping protect the astronauts during the 4,000-degree push back into Earth’s atmosphere. As they melt, they take the heat with them—like chunks of ice sitting on blacktop on a hot day.

As Keon and a group of EBAD engineers describe these final throes, I catch them staring at the conference-room wall behind me. Tucked near the ceiling is a rolled-up projector screen. Test flights are the only real chance for the bolts to prove their mettle, so when they happen, EBAD staff huddle in this room to watch. Right now, NASA is inching toward two big events: a four-minute ride will practice an emergency landing this spring; and, in 2020, Exploration Mission 1 will whip an unmanned capsule around the moon and back home.

The last time they piled into this room was in 2014, when Exploration Flight Test 1 circled Orion around Earth twice before splashing down. The unnamed mission was a trial for critical systems such as the heat shield, parachutes, computers, and, of most concern for EBAD, all those separations. That mid-December afternoon, the team ordered pizza, and waited into the night to see how their bolts fared. They paced and sweated, then let out cheers and long-tired sighs. The cele­bration, though, was tempered by the work—the testing, the refining—they’d return to the next morning. “The mission’s not over,” Keon says.

This article was originally published in the Spring 2019 Transportation issue of Popular Science.

Written By Ryan Bradley

[tierra-angelica]

A Labor of Love Chapter 4

...

"Here we are in the middle of a crisis and there's no cheesecake!"

-Blanche Devereaux, Golden Girls

...

Kagome sat with her legs under her on the couch. A cup of coffee in one hand and a two day old raspberry scone in the other. The weather called for partly cloudy and there was a thirty percent chance of rain.

This was one of the more relaxing days she had experienced. No obligations, just staying indoors to do nothing.

A door opened in the distance behind her.

She scowled at the TV. "Today's my day off so get lost."

"Slaves don't get days off." The fridge opened and closed.

Ignoring him she watched the local news.

He came around with the plate of raspberry scones and she watched in amusement at his discouraged face as he took a bite.

"Not sweet enough for you?," she asked with a hint of delight.

"Make something else," he demanded.

"It's my day off from work. I'm not going to cater to your needs," she scoffed.

Her cell phone vibrated on the glass coffee table. Kagome picked it up with a forlorn expression. "Hello?"

"Kagome!" her boss gasped desperately. "I know it's your day off but Mimi left the blueberries out in the truck yesterday and they rotted in the heat. Our special for this morning is supposed to be blueberry cheesecake bites! We're already behind because Chiharau didn't show up... Could you please pick some fresh ones up from the store? I'll compensate you when you get here."

"Yeah, give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll head out to the store."

"Thank you so much! See you when you get here!"

The phone beeped signaling her boss had hung up.

"So much for lying around..." she mumbled and got to her feet walking past Sesshomaru to snatch up her car keys. In a pair of blue jean shorts and a band t-shirt she was decent enough to go into public.

"I'm heading out."

"I'll accompany you."

Kagome turned around to see him standing behind her. "What for?"

"To make sure you get more adequate ingredients."

She rolled her eyes and looked him up and down. "I'm not going to be seen with you in public wearing that."

Referring to his unique outfit today of a black jacket with silver buttons and black pants. A yellow sash across the chest and yellow shoulder pads. Metals and a royal insignia of a white wolf howling within a blue crescent moon. Like he was royalty.

"You look like a picture out of a high school history text book."

He snapped his fingers.

His new outfit looked like a modern version of the other on. Black jeans, same jacket but left open and the sleeves buttoned up to his elbows. There was a white t-shirt underneath with the same insignia but the wolf was outlined in black to keep it white but stand out.

"Let's go." He walked out the door first.

So this was how her day was going to go...

She locked the door behind her.

The grocery store wasn't very busy. Then again it was only 7:30 a.m. Since getting a steady job she found every morning she woke up at the same time so she was used to the early hours.

Heading to the produce section with a small plastic red basket in her hand. she sorted through the containers of blueberries to get the freshest ones the store could offer. She grabbed 10 containers for work and 2 for herself. She hadn't even noticed Sesshomaru's absence.

A shopping cart bumped into her upper thigh and she looked at the person pushing it.

"This should do."

Kagome gaped at Sesshomaru and the shopping cart full of sweets and baking ingredients.

"Are you nuts?! I can't afford all of this stuff."

"I'll pay for it."

"Oh no. I'm not going to be indebted to you even more than I am now." She wielded the cart down the baking supply isle. "This stuff is going back."

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a brown leather wallet on the ground and bent to pick it up. She looked up and down the isle and noticed two or three people. Opening it she saw the wad of bills in the folds. She could buy this whole cart of sweets and another cart full of proper groceries! Who kept this much money on hand? She looked for an ID and found a picture of a middle aged woman.

She looked down the aisle again and found a match. A middle aged woman with short brown hair was weighing her options between two boxes of dried cake mix and looked exactly like the picture. Kagome walked towards her.

"Excuse me miss." the woman turned her head in Kagome's direction. "Did you lose your wallet by chance?"

Kagome hadn't expected much. Just a 'thank you' was great but instead the woman scowled and snatched the wallet offered up in Kagome's hand. She instantly opened it and looked through the bills.

"You didn't steal anything did you?" she snarled.

Kagome was taken aback. "Of course not. I just noticed it on the ground."

"Sure you did. How do I know you didn't pick pocket it from my bag?" She accused. "My husbands a cop ya know."

A cop with that kind of salary? Kagome doubted it. But none the less she was offended.

"I assure you she was only returning the wallet out of the goodness of her heart," Sesshomaru spoke up.

Kagome glanced at him. His eyes set with an icy glare. "Worry more about why your husband doesn't come home until three in the morning rather than questioning a good samaritan."

The woman sputtered with a comeback before just throwing a box of dried cake mix in her cart and stomped off and out of sight.

"How did you know that?" Kagome asked curiously.

He didn't answer her. "You could have taken the money."

"Yeah, I thought about all the groceries and new kitchen equipment I could buy too." She snapped out of it and continued putting things back on the shelf from Sesshomaru's cart.

"But in the end. It wasn't my money. It was in a wallet that belonged to someone else. Finding a bill just floating around the street is different from seeing someone accidentally drop it or it fall out of their pocket."

"One man's misfortune is another man's fortune."

"I know you're a devil and the epitome of evil and all but not all humans think like that. We are overpowered by feelings and thought but don't always act upon them. Now help me put these away."

Even though she had spoken the words there was still the feeling of surprise when he helped put things back on the shelves. He was unpredictable sometimes. Once out of the store and back in the car they headed to her work place. Her boss gave her a big smile and compensated her for the blueberries.

"Sorry it took so long, the store was crowded," she lied eyeing Sesshomaru who was looking at the display case. She had to suppress a laugh when she noticed his nose twitch.

"Can I get two of the banana cream Danishes to go?"

Mimi, a petite blonde with short spiked hair, got out a small styrofoam box to put the two Danishes in. Kagome reached inside her purse.

"You're fine Kagome," her boss interrupted. "On the house."

"Are you sure? I don't mind paying..."

"Two Danishes won't ruin my business Kagome," she scoffed playfully.

Kagome smiled. "Thank you."

She took the box from Mimi who leaned in close over the counter. "Whose the stud?" Mimi's eyes flickered to Sesshomaru.

Kagome frowned. "Where? I don't see one."

Mimi smiled. "Oh, he's off limits huh? I gotcha." She winked.

Kagome's frown deepened. "That's not what I meant."

"Your face says differently."

Kagome sighed. Once Mimi made up her mind there was no way to convince her otherwise.

"See you guys tomorrow," Kagome waved and left the shop with Sesshomaru behind her.

She handed him the box. "Here. I made those yesterday for the shop."

He took the box without a word and started to bite into the first one.

In the car he finally spoke, taking up the second Danish. "I could always pay you. It's a win, win situation. I get what I want and you don't have to work so much for a minimal pay check."

Kagome looked back at the shop to where Mimi and her boss waved. She waved back and started the car. "Thanks but no thanks. I like working for the most part. It gives a person a nice sense of pride. Plus I'm definitely not going to have my life revolve around you."

"You should. It would make your life so much easier. Worship me and you'll have nothing else to worry about."

"Your ego is probably as big as the iceberg that sank the Titanic. So far my life has been made so much more difficult just by your presence. Plus being your slave and follower is not a title I would tote around proudly. Plus I'm not sure I could file for sexual harassment under that kind of employment."

"Just another benefit," he smirked with the second Danish gone.

Kagome glared at him as they arrived back at her place. Getting out of the car she replied, "Yeah for you."

Sesshomaru came around to her side with a promiscuous look. "I assure you, it is a mutual bonus."

Kagome shoved a bag of groceries in his hand. "Make yourself useful."

"Feeling uncomfortable?" he asked with amusement.

"Not a bit. Your sex life bores me." Kagome held her head high.

"Then you won't mind if I go on then. Usually it takes them a few minutes but I can go on for-"

"Alright! Alright! If you stop I'll make blueberry cheesecake, just shut up!" She pleaded with annoyance at his dirty stories. She was sorry she had even said anything.

"Good." He seemed proud of himself.

"I hope you go into a sugar coma," she cursed him.

...

Chapter 5 (x)

Start at the beginning (x)

[nurturingflame]

Week In Review - 54

It’s always exciting getting to post a new section of our continuing adventure. You will see a difference in tone from the last installment and we hope that you enjoy the action to come. 

A quick question, as we are always very interested in your feedback. Would anyone be interested if we hosted an open rp event? Let us know!

Aww, Rats! 1-5

Michelangelo stared at the frozen deliciousness he'd spread out before himself on the table in Donnie's lab.  Even four days later, the room still smelled of the feast that his family, Mrs. V, and The Children of the Phoenix had partaken in.  The giant chairs that Donnie had constructed were not longer there, each of the three mutants they were made for having taken them home.  Medusa had been thrilled to pieces with her first ever chair.  Sad life never sitting in a chair, the teen thought.  Even sadder to let this ice cream melt.

The ice cream was almost gone, and his plan was to make a many scooped concoction meant to finish it off before someone else beat him to it.  He pushed the jar of mutagen, or retro-mutagen, or maybe it wasn't-mutagen-at-all, out of the way.   Donnie really needs to do a better job of putting stuff back where it belongs, he thought.  All of this lab equipment is blocking my food prep.  

"What are you doing with the ice cream on my table?" Donnie came up behind him.  Mikey turned to see his taller brother standing with his hip popped out, his arms crossed his plastron.  "Hmmm?"

"Fixing you," he drawled, "a big bowl of ice cream!"  He turned and began to scoop the dessert into a bowl.

"What were you doing before you decided to serve me ice cream?" Donnie asked suspiciously.

"Serving myself ice cream?" Mikey presented the brainiac with a heaping bowl.

"Why don't you fix Mrs. V and Phoenix bowls," Leo suggested, sauntering into the lab.  "They've been sequestered in Mrs. V's room for a long time now."

"What do you think they're doing in there?" Donnie asked, handing a bowl to Leo and taking one himself.

"I dunno," Leo shrugged as they walked away.  "I heard Phoenix say that Mrs. V was right not to imbibe, apparently she had to use her own medical knowledge on a hangover."

Ice cream is so much better than sake.  Mikey's mouth watered as his brother's voices drifted away.  Not that he had ever tried sake, but if you had to take medicine after drinking it, then it couldn't be good.  He stuffed a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth before beginning to serve up another bowl. Piling it high, he admired it.  It sparkled in the low light, the ice crystals on the cream beginning to melt into a smooth dripping loveliness.  He took a long lick.

"Where's the one you were going to make me?" Donnie snapped Mikey out of his reverie.

Sighing, Mikey handed the bowl to his brother, just as April's voice hit his ears.  "Hi guys.  Look what I found!"

"Are you sure you measured right?" Eliza asked as she exited her room behind the Phoenix, tweaking her shirt, hoping that it would fall in more flattering creases to hide her stomach bump. They had just spent more than an hour in the most detailed check-up she had undergone to date. "Pregnant or not, adding four inches to my waist-line in a week seems a bit extreme." Her friend just snickered in a knowing way as they made their way towards the common area of the lair.

The Children of the Phoenix had stopped by in the early evening the day after the party, with their rather haggard looking mother in tow. Eliza had slept in late that day and thus had gotten a late start in cleaning up the aftermath. The boys had helped of course, though Eliza noted with no small degree of annoyance that her own daughter was MIA, mostly likely off in some hidden nook bonding with her new pet. Regardless, the result was that she was still elbow deep in pots and pans when her company arrived. She was immediately relieved of duty by an insistant Acros who then recruited his brother to his aid while Medusa when off to find Donatello. Apparently she wanted to ask the craftsman turtle if she could take her custom-built chair back to the warehouse.

When Eliza turned her attention to the Phoenix, it was apparent that the small woman was not nearly as chipper as her adopted offspring. When asked she just grumbled something about a newfound distaste for 'fine' sake and maybe a disparaging word or two about Mirakami's lineage, which Eliza hoped would not be repeated in the blind chef's company. Taking pity on her friend, Eliza put on the kettle and discretely went to ask Splinter if he happened to have any tea blends that would help. The end result was a pleasant enough tea time and chat between three adults. Splinter and the Phoenix with their 'day after' brew and Eliza with the iron enhancer the healer had made for the pregnant ferret. With lots of sugar.

As the tea was consumed the small healer had a more healthy color returned to her and was guiding the conversation back around to Eliza. Mostly as to how to ascertain the health of the babies, now that they had shown movement. However, they were interrupted by the children, furred, shelled and scaled alike. They had loaded all three chairs into the shell-raiser and wanted to deliver them to the warehouse before the Hamato boys planned to head out on patrol. The Phoenix left with the group, with the caution that Eliza wasn't off the hook, and a promise to come back soon. Today's exam was the fulfillment of that threat.

Eliza had been weighed, measured, poked and prodded, all in the Phoenix's goal to not only judge the health of the pregnancy, but to have a base understanding of Eliza's ferrety physiology, or as much as she could with basic observation. It was a lot of asking Eliza to bend this way and that, understanding how the ferret's body moved normally so the healer could then make note of any changes that the pregnancy caused. The end result was a mix between a doctor's visit and a yoga class.

As they moved towards the pit the sound of young voices brought her attention to the lab just as April and Casey were making their way there as well. Her accute hearing heard the word 'ice cream' being bantered about just as Donatello and Leonardo meet them with bowls of the sweet treat. "Ohh, snack time." She smiled in anticipation as she accepted the bowl from Donnie freeing him to return to the lab, "thank you boys I can go for this about now."

"You're welcome." Leonardo said politely while holding out his bowl to the Phoenix who seemed to be contemplating whither she wanted the treat or not.

She caught the smaller woman raising an eyebrow at her. "Hey! Don't give me that look. I've been good. But even leftover chicken gets boring after a few days. Not to mention that having Ladybug around has not being helping on the craving front. I think ice cream is a much better option."

Then the squee of "KITTY!" came through the door and Eliza caught a glimpse of an orange tabby being danced around by green hands.

"Oh for heaven's sake." She muttered as she stepped into the lab, an ecstatic Mikey cuddling a weather worn ally cat, blissfully ignoring the agitated chatter of the other teens. Her mind immediately went to how this new arrival could complicate her own situation. Not bad enough I have to keep myself from snacking on my daughters' pet, now I have to make sure the cat doesn't get to it either. Because it was plain to see that Mikey was already enamored and if he turned his watery baby blues on the rest of the family she was certain the cat was not leaving anytime soon.

"Okay, whose idea was this?" she asked the room, but a shrinking and suddenly shy April made the answer all too clear. "Really. April?" The ferret sighed in an exasperated but defeated way all parents do when there is no way out of a pickle a wayward child puts them in.

"It's only temporary." The teen tried to defend sheepishly.

"Un hun." Eliza shook her head and walked over to the ice cream spread, serving herself an extra scoop of the quickly melting treat. Hey, she deserved extra for dealing with this kind of stress. "You're telling Splinter." She declared without looking back as she deposited off the last of the mint chocolate chip in her bowl.

"Master Splinter is meditating right now," Donnie said in a pensive voice.  "You'll have to tell him later."

"Yeah," Casey Jones chuckled, "what if the cat goes nuts and attacks him when he's not paying attention?  She could feed off of his body for months!"

"There is something seriously wrong with you," Donnie snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That was pretty gross, Casey," Phoenix agreed, handing the young man her bowl after putting only a spoonful in her mouth.  She turned to Eliza and smiled as Mikey let out a lovesick sigh.  "You be good," she told the ferret.  "And I'll be back."

"Let me get your bag," Eliza turned toward her room.

Phoenix held a hand out, again peeking at Mikey as he let out a squeak.  "I can get it.   Make sure you hold the cat when you introduce it to Ladybug."  She sang the last words, almost as a tease.

Mikey gasped and growled out, "Nononononono!"

"Everything OK Mikey?" April asked, waving as the healer left.

"Yeah," he said, his shell pressed against the table.  "It's cold, it's cool.  Like ice cream."

Eliza swallowed hers.  "Get the cat off the table, Michelangelo."

"Okie dokie!" he squealed, turning, grabbing the feline in his arms, and running toward the kitchen.

Eliza rolled her eyes.  "I need a nap."

For days, he had watched.  Through the eyes of Ladybug, The Rat King was able to see most of the Turtles lair, spy upon the interactions between those living there.  The girl who had taken Ladybug as her own did not restrict herself to only one or two parts of the lair, but roamed freely.  However, the girl did not go where he wanted her to go, and he had to wait until she was sleeping with her ferret-mother before he could tell the fancy rat to wander.

So the doe snuck out when the girl was solidly asleep, only once causing the ferret mutant's whiskers to twitch, into the dojo to watch the sleeping or meditating form of Splinter.

Ah, his Splinter.  The Rat King had been watching his general, his bodyguard, his brother in body, heart, and soul long before Ladybug had made her presence known to the human girl called Gwyn.  The Rat King did not want to play his hand too early, so he had only tickled Splinter's presence in his dreams, wandering in convoluted places that made little sense, places filled with cherry blossoms, old style Japanese buildings, the clinging of steel weapons, and the cooing of a baby.  But the little fancy rat doe had her eye on the rat mutant and his household during his waking hours.   It was in that way that he'd felt the weakening of Master's Splinter's mind.

Even drunk, filled with the blood warming fuzziness of sake, Master Splinter was formidable.  His mind was firm, watching the goings on about him with a nonjudgemental eye.  However, The Rat King was able to feel the rat mutant, much the same way he could feel his many brothers and sisters.  With the emotional impressions of Splinter, and the visual information of Ladybug, he had formulated his plan.  He needed only to wait until the right time.

He had thought he would have to wait longer, but fate was smiling on him.  

Ladybug saw, at the beginning of what seemed to be the ninja turtle's fighting lesson, Splinter training each of the boys, separately and together.  Then The Rat King felt Splinter's wall crack, as the sound of a woman came to his ears, met with the higher voice of another woman in typical, almost squealy female greeting.  Ladybug was no longer in the dojo, as Gwyn had scooped her up, and carried her to the sounds of the voices, showing The Rat King her mother, the ferret mutant Eliza, and the mutant healer, The Phoenix, hugging each other.

At the same time, he felt Splinter's attention shatter.  Only a shard, for that moment, was on his sons, another on their training, another on their obedience, but several more stretched out from the dojo, to the voices of the women, a recollection of how each one smelled, looked, moved.  The Rat King felt the Ninja Master's swell of affection for the little girl, for the ferret, for the healer, and he felt the body he was observing clench with desire.

Much like his own heart did when he longed for his brother, who rejected him, rejected who he was.  But no longer.

Splinter put on a blindfold, taking the lesson in a different direction, to regain his focus.  

"This doesn't seem fair," Leonardo said.

"I assure you," Splinter replied.  "It isn't."

Again the voices of the women came to his ears, as he moved to avoid Leonardo's strike, his attention split.  The Rat King reached out his desire, clear for the Ninja Master, to match that which the Ninja Master himself felt for...The Rat King could not quite tell what.

The first move was made, his second was now in the waiting.  He would have what he wanted.

Phoenix followed the flashlight down the sewer tunnel, her mind a whirl with the information she'd gleaned from Eliza in this last visit.  She was still seeing how the woman moved in her mind's eye, her flexibility was amazing.  She could practically turn herself in two, despite the two babies growing in her belly.  The way that the mutagen had modified her spine in making her an anthropomorphic ferret was fascinating in and of itself, and she had to keep bringing her mind back to the actual measurements that mattered.  She chuckled, shaking her head.  You're an obstetrician at the moment, she reminded herself.  See what her body can do for its sake after the babies come.

As her muffled laugh faded in echo, she heard, "Eek."

She stopped, casting the flashlight about to find the owner of the voice.

It was just a plain rat, grey with a pink nose, and a pink tail, and pink feet.  It lay on its side, and squeaked again meekly. When she softened her eyes, to see the glow that was not a glow that emanated from everything, she saw very little of it around the rat.  It was as if it was being suck in from the rat’s center instead of exuding out as it should.  She picked the rodent up, and held its limp, warm body in her hands.  She could feel its little heart beating against her palm.  She rubbed it gently, and as she did, she gave it some of the tingly light.  The thought and look of the process, when she was self-aware enough to watch it, never failed to fascinate her.  Everything she looked at gave off the glow that wasn’t a glow, a type of shimmering in the air that indicated its existence.  The tingly light that came out of her hands, almost of its own accord, had a different kind of glow to it, an almost light, the shimmer from it was white in color, but translucent.  It did not look like it felt.  It was a sheet, one continuous emanation of light, while it felt as if ants or spiders were coming out of her palms through her pores and into the pores of the creature she was giving it to.  She knew it wasn’t hers, that she didn’t make the light.  The light came from somewhere else, the same place as the great firebird that had come to her all those years ago, the same place as the voice that was not her voice, the same place as the poetry.

A gift from the Universe, she thought errantly.  Like Eliza's babies.

The tingling stopped in her hands, and she held the rat for a while longer.  She smiled ironically.  “Medusa would eat you,” she said to it softly.  “And here I am trying to help you heal yourself.”

The rat raised its head, as if it understood her, and then wiggled to get down.  She put it on the ground gently, and it ran off down the tunnel.  Ti stopped, looking back at her, as if waiting, ran a little farther, then waited again.  She watched it, the soft glow that was not a glow fading into the dark of the tunnel only shortly after she could no longer see its physical body.

She picked up her flashlight and followed the rat.  She turned a corner, and shone her light on several rats eating some garbage in the tunnel.  The all looked at her, squeaked loudly, and then ran off farther down the tunnel.  The one she had helped, however, waited for her to catch up, then ran off again.

She grew increasingly uneasy as she stood in the dark tunnel, deep in the sewer, away from any way out that she knew of.  A few rats, brown and gray, chittered beside her and ran forward a little, but were still well within the beam of her flashlight.

“Do I follow you?” she asked out loud, feeling rather silly as that was what she was already doing.

The rats waited.

“You know your life is getting really weird when you start talking to rats, and they answer you,” she smiled.  "And they are mutated."

Interested in rping with the Nurturing Flame universe?

[urbanromantics]

2017. October. Again, we are in Tokyo.

This post is not meant to be a guide to or review of Japan.  Well, not the kind with opening hours, must-sees and landmarks.  What has struck me this time is the beauty in diversity.  In the space between language barriers. In the beauty of creating.

handkerchief maker at TABF

Perhaps, the streaming of daily news and events over the past year, fears and insecurities that wake us before morning have made me seek remedies from being kind, aware and mindful. Recognizing beauty in front of me, around me.  An increased sense of obligation to create and share. Recognize overt and hidden talents of people across a spectrum of skills and choices. Acknowledge. Encourage. Appreciate. Inspire. This is in our power.  This is how we medicate helplessness from headlines and back stories.

I am not running from shrine to shrine.  I am not navigating mechanized crowds through stop lights and cross-walks.  I am not searching for restaurants.  No subway stop sampling of neighborhoods. I am satisfied being absent of must-see lists or 72 hours in Tokyo recommendations letting my own awareness guide me through the hours.

  The first time I visited, Tokyo was overwhelming. In a way, disappointing.  I was looking for ‘authentic’ Japan, not avenues lined with generic signs of luxury. Eating was challenging. Fish stock in one form or another is often the first ingredient in dining options. Not good for vegan life or if bending the rules, vegetarian.

upon arrival.tokyo at dusk

  later the same day-pushing through the call of sleep

  The language is difficult to interpret.  In other tongues, I mumble sounds or see hidden words in different arrangements of familiar letters. Add my own pronunciations and use hands to translate”this is deliciousoso, scuz-a-me, where is subwayo or choo choo?  Me, vegan, make a fish face and use my hands to say no.

uhm…doesn’t look like breakfast

figuring it out

With a different alphabet, I stare at phrases thinking they will focus into a piece I can understand. I  rely on images . On packages of sealed food, pictures of berries and nuts mean a better selection than pictures of a smiling chicken or fish. I learned to take a couple of zeros off currency and figure out a short taxi ride is not $1000. I hold loose coins in an open palm and slide my hand over to cashiers. At ATM’s I look for an English text box but often withdraw too much or too little.  I learned not to open the door of a taxi. The driver does it from a control on his dashboard.

breakfast of champions-tokyo version

After a few days of my Tokyo #1 visit, 2008, I began to understand the magic of the city but too close to departure.  Magic tied into the way the city operates.  The politeness.  The patience. The attention to detail. Big animated smiles that monopolize faces. Organization and cleanliness. An absence of American urban rush hour havoc. A politeness that glides people through the day.

It’s not that Tokyo is my favorite place to visit over and over again.  The first two trips were to visit friends who hosted and chauffeured us inside and outside of the city.  I learned the metro system from taking trains in wrong directions. Getting stopped at turnstiles. Figuring out underground mazes. Tokyo started to make sense.  The third and fourth trips were for the Tokyo Art Book Fair (TABF) where billy was juried into the fair and welcomed into the international section.

set-up, 2017!-warehouse terrada, shinagawa

set-up, 2017!

Tokyo started to come together.  The fair, four days, brought us into a Tokyo different than before. Rather, TABF brought Tokyo to us. A destination where local Tokyo and visiting foreigners spend time with artist made books and the artists who create them.  Where language needs little translation. “How much? ” “How do you do this?” and “Where are you from?” start slow conversations that find a way to connect, not frustrate.

 A ubiquitous visual language taking place on multiple floors up and down rows lined with tables of vision and product executed by passionate and humble art-makers.

There is no interruption or impoliteness from cellphonespeak.  Giggles and clapping hands of enjoyment animate communication. Misunderstood or not understood words don’t matter.  Art is the subject.  Art is the understanding.  Fingers pointing to pages and flipping through books. Gently handling a fabric button. T-shirts and bags with simple illustrations. Explanations that transcend language barriers.  Viral passion for art, and words. Individuality that brought people together shlepping weighed down with suitcases and duffel bags. From Germany, Korea, Singapore, America, Norway, Australia, Canada, Brazil, Paris, London and throughout Japan.

Art-makers morphing into a single we make art culture.

To share–to have a purpose–to bring boxes and bags and hooks and tape to show vision in three-dimension. Helping visitors experience art in traditional forms and new forms. To inspire. To spread a contagious mood of creativity, confidence in individuality.  To remind us of the beauty inside of us and inside others. Or simply to enjoy an autumn afternoon on the way to or from somewhere.

There is no language barrier to smiles and sharing of art.

I observe. As I scan the flow of participants and visitors it reminds me that art connects people. How important this is now, more than ever.  When asked where are we from there is no reference to politics.  No snickering.  No judgment.  We don’t ask questions of our artist neighbors from Korea. There is the only curiosity of the art and appreciation for the artist who have traveled here.

Finding the unexpected on the anniversary of my mom’s death.  My mom who built a menagerie of Bambi relics over 70 years.

The venue, a warehouse set-up is different from last year’s open campus forum.  Creating some challenges in getting in and out and intermittent rain Japanese patience was its own art form filling the canvas of the street.

  What has struck me this trip is the beauty of diversity.  Of foreigners bringing art for people to absorb. Dynamic and in-the-moment sites rather than checking off have-to-see sights from stickie-note tabbed pages in guidebooks. I have seen those sights in past trips, not all of them but that’s okay. Still, I take short escapes to see the Louise Bourgeois “Spider” and a visit to our favorite ceramics gallery.

  spider at roppngi hills

    the beauty of the ceramics at this shop and the beauty of you-can-only-get-it-here

Food has been better this year.  It still takes planning but the expansion of fresh salad restaurants and vegan cafes gives us default. Fruit stands and natural food markets are not as spread out as before. Yes! to the Happy Cow app and pocket wi-fi.

  It has been a difficult year for us. Not for “us” as in “us” but from events that are part of “us” being “we.” Primarily, billy’s mom with advancing Alzheimer’s forcing her move from our home after four and a half years.  billy’s half-day visits with her every other day stir up anxieties that play into decisions for us to travel, be away. And the unexpected interruption from discovering and treating a Melanoma billy identified on the side of his face. billy’s prep and production for new work and inventory and collaborations fill days and nights. Travel to and from our remote home extends the travel. We navigate doubts and concerns like everything else that makes us “we.” Plus, the “woof!” who is glorious and unconditional but requires extra effort and coordination while we are gone.

 woof! off to sleepaway camp aka babysitter

And here we are, Tokyo v4. I hope the photos and words bring you to into this world of beauty and kindness and inspire you.  For now, more than ever it is a time to make art and create…to see beauty and happiness in faces.

Join the faces.

We are all artists with our own stories and vision. We all have something to share, to connect to soothe our fears. Pick up a pen.  Grab a brush. A bottle of glue. A recipe. Tape. A piece of chalk.  A sharpie.  Leave your doubt at the door. Create!

and when the day is done…..

tokyo v4 + tokyo artbook fair II-2017 2017. October. Again, we are in Tokyo. This post is not meant to be a guide to or review of Japan. 

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 60, July 2017

On Monday morning, I had my Strength Training session with Luke Davey at Breakaway Fitness in Berwick. Today I felt like I was really productive, in the right mindset and trying hard to improve my technique. It’s getting a lot easier to open up to Luke now. The awkward tension is slowly dissipating. I even took the opportunity to be really honest with him post-workout. We basically exchanged hard truths and it felt good. I feel like if something is weighing heavily on my mind, I need to express it. Luke can’t read my mind and it’s better than pretending everything’s fine. It builds trust and it creates transparency.

WARM-UP...Today I used a rubber ball into the hips and lower groins, lying down on my side and on my back. Next I did some forward folding stretches over the box and also did a cowboy walk down the track. The exposure to how stupid I must of looked didn’t even bother me today because I was so focused on the burning through my knees, groin and buttocks. I’m slowly letting go of what others think about me and that’s a really good thing.

DEVELOPMENT...Today I worked on my back squats again, doing 5 rounds of 5 reps. This time, I was trying hard to improve my technique of sinking down low enough and keeping my chest lifted up. It’s a difficult balance to maintain but because I was only lifting about 40-50kg, it was easier to concentrate on my form. It wasn’t perfect but it was much better than last time and I didn’t leave beating myself up and feeling a failure. That’s success right there. Luke also decided to play some Britney Spears which certainly helped me keep focused.

WORKOUT...For the workout, I ended up doing some sled pulls and pushes along the green track. The first round was at 20kg. Luke was explaining that this was meant to be a sprint and therefore I’d want to be moving as fast as possible. My first attempt wasn’t the greatest but eventually I was getting better at it. At 30-40kg, the fatigue was kicking in hard and I really couldn’t move that fast at all. I was also a little too conscious about bumping into something going backwards and kept checking over my shoulder but otherwise I did okay.

Completing the workout was an achievement for me. The fact that I was out of breath and unable to talk shows that I did put 100% effort in. However the truth is that personal bests, records and times aren’t things that really motivate me that much. I don’t define myself and my progress by a number. It’s what makes me unique in the world of Crossfit and Strength Training. People may think that I’m crazy or not serious about my training, but that is far from the truth. Showing up, not giving up and smashing out a workout is what defines me. https://www.facebook.com/breakawayf...

On Monday night, I attended my first class of the Foundation Meditation course at Brahma Kumaris Centre for Spiritual Learning, The Peninsula. Finding the place wasn’t too difficult despite the lack of streetlights. Walking into the main building and reception area, I felt a little intimidated and cautious about being here. Then I noticed that all of the staff there were all wearing white garments. Oh god, have I just stepped into a spiritual/religious cult? Is this a convent or a mental hospital? Thankfully none of these things...so far.

I filled in a registration form at the front desk before proceeding upstairs to my class. The large room contained a screen featuring a diagram of focused light rays on a red background and a collection of 9 red chairs all arranged in a uniform pattern. My anxiety began kicking in now and of course I was the first to arrive. I met the facilitator named Angie, removed my shoes and found myself a seat in the back row. The other students then back flowing into the room before the class began at 7pm.

The class contained a mixed of theory and practical elements. We learned about the different types of thoughts including positive, negative, elevated, ordinary and waste. The last one, waste, makes up 90-95% of our total thoughts and include things from our past (blame, bitterness, regret and guilt) and our future (doubt, fear and worry). Angie described thoughts as a flow of energy out into the atmosphere and that having awareness of what we are thinking and experiencing is really important in order to overcome and change it.

We also learned about the acronym for SOS...STOP (Having the realisation/awareness), OBSERVE (What it is that you are thinking?) and STEER (Steer my thoughts in a more positive direction. For example, what are my best qualities?). Finally, we discussed the four stages of meditation. These include Relaxation (relaxing the body), Contemplating (thoughts are taking a positive turn e.g. I am happy, I am peaceful), Concentration (just experiencing or feeling), Realisation (deep internal stillness and having very few thoughts). http://brahmakumaris.org.au/events/...

On Tuesday afternoon, I went to a Christmas in July social function with the Narre Warren Walking Group at Cardinia Park Hotel in Beaconsfield. I was still feeling a bit restless from last night but getting out was exactly what I needed. The bistro was pretty cozy though the heater was on full blast and making me more drained than usual. The two long tables were buzzing with conversation and it seemed like everyone was happy to see Mum and myself there.

The meals were a little on the expensive side but I honestly couldn’t complain about the service or the portion size. I ordered the calarami with chips and salad. It was extremely filling to say the least. The conversations around me where polite and I did try to engage with a few of them but it was hard maintaining my focus. I find staying in large social groups to be exhausting after a certain period of time and I was ready to leave by the 1.5-2 hour mark. Still I’m glad I came. http://www.cardiniaparkhotel.com.au/...

On Tuesday night, I drove down to my friend Michael McLaren’s place in Bayswater to pick up my Oceans To Athena hoodie. Most people would think I’m either nuts or dedicated driving 45 minutes to an hour just to pick up some merch but I had another reason for coming down. Social connection. Something that’s been really lacking in my life lately. So the long drive didn’t bother me at all and I knew how to get there, considering it was very close the The Barn Live.

I chilled out in Michael’s living room with his girlfriend Holly, roommate and his friendly dog Obi. The wall heater was on and I was sipping on a cup of green lemon tea whilst listening to the conversations. I didn’t stay too long as I intended to go to my Body Balance class straight after. However, when I was driving back to Narre Warren, I was feeling noticeably drained and worn out. Plus the peak-hour traffic didn’t help matters. Even if I did make it in time, I’d be rushing to get there and honestly it wasn’t worth the stress. Sometimes it’s better to listen to your body and do what’s best for you at the time.

On Wednesday morning, I attended my Restorative yoga class with Kim Lousada at Now, Yoga.. Honestly, I haven’t really been functioning well the last couple of days. My sleep patterns have been terrible. I’ve been feeling unmotivated, restless and worn out. And I’ve also been feeling quite down and depressed about my life. So this class was exactly what I needed today. To walk out of that studio feeling revitalized, refreshed and joyful. It’s the reason why I continue to do yoga because of all the benefits I get out of it. http://nowyoga.net.au/

Today we did a series of supported variations of poses including pigeon pose, wide legged forward fold, side stretches and butterfly pose using bolsters, blocks and blankets. My hips were noticeably tight and so pigeon pose really helped in opening up that area and increasing the stretch. I didn’t go too deep with it today but it still felt good. Kim used a quote from Bruce Lee about “becoming like water” which means adapting to changes in life. She also read the quote “This too shall pass”, which is a Persian adage referring to feelings and mental states not being permanent. http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/163...

On Thursday. Mum and I spent the day out in the city together. Firstly, we had an 11.30am reservation at the NGV The Tea Room for tea and lunch. We ordered the devonshire tea with scones plus a selection of finger sandwiches and two desserts. It’s not very often that we dine in style so we made the most of it.

Next, we queued up to purchase tickets to the Van Gogh and the Seasons at NGV inside the Great Hall. The queue was ridiculously long but that was no surprise considering the exhibition ends this week and it’s also the school holidays. It took us just over an hour to get to the front of the line but I bemused myself by overhearing conversations around me and checking out some male eye candy.

The exhibition began with a short video explaining the life and a brief history of Vincent Van Gogh. He was born in Zundert, Netherlands on 30 March, 1853. Starting out as an art dealer, he soon followed in his father’s footsteps in turning to religion and becoming a Protestant missionary in Belgium. However, this venture was short-lived as his true passion for painting quickly emerged in 1881. His brother Theo supported him both financially and compassionately during his art career.

In 1886, Van Gogh moved to Paris, getting himself involved in the avant garde and impressionist movements. His paintings were heavily influenced by the likes of Emile Bernard, Paul Gauguin and Claude Monet. Van Gogh suffered from mental disorders including depression, loneliness, social isolation and several psychotic episodes. This lead to a fight with Gauguin, which resulted in him chopping off his own ear. He was later admitted to Saint Remy, a local psychiatric asylum, before shooting himself in the chest with a revolver and dying in 1890.

In terms of his artwork collection, the exhibition was divided up into four sections representing each of the seasons: Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer. Van Gogh correlated each season with particular moods, feelings, colours, people, animals, flowers and other landscape features. Autumn featured large trees and woodland as well as shades of browns and oranges. Winter featured dark renderings, shadowy figures in snow fields and willowy peach trees. Spring featured blossoming orchards, cows and farm workers. Summer featured wheat fields and varying tones of yellow. Van Gogh also did a series of still life paintings featuring vases containing sunflowers, roses, poppies and irises as well as collections of fruit. https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/exhibiti...

On Friday morning, I had my counselling session with Ruth at Piece Together Counselling in Narre Warren. I decided to invite my mum along again today for support. Today I talked about how unmotivated and low I’ve been feeling this week. Beginning with my PT session with Luke on Monday, I had the courage to speak up about what truly motivates me and be assertive about it. Both my mental state and the colder weather has affected me as my energy levels have quickly depleted during the day. Physically, I just haven’t felt like going out at night unless I really had to.

Mum was also really concerned about how I’m going to cope being alone in the house next week while she and Rod are in Queensland for their anniversary. At least I’ve managed to put a few plans in place for myself like my Movie Night, PT sessions, yoga, fitness classes, meditation, art galleries, gigs, reading and puzzles. Plus I’ll be cooking for myself which I’m sure I’ll manage. I’m just going to stick to easy to prepare meals with few ingredients. It doesn’t have to be Masterchef.

On Friday afternoon, I had my Strength Training session with Luke Davey at Breakaway Fitness in Berwick. I was rushing from place to place all morning and had no time to slow down, relax and have lunch. Plus a lot of negative stuff was building up inside of me and had to be released somehow. Honestly, I did have good intentions walking into today’s session but everything just quickly went downhill fast during my workout.

WARM-UP...Today I started by doing some standing forward bends, stretching into the sides and touching my toes. Yoga really has helped in regards to improving my flexibility. Next, I had to do 3 rounds of 8 single arm kettle bell deadlifts, essentially going into a Warrior 3 pose and having to balance my leg behind me. My balance was pretty terrible today but I kept trying and eventually got the hang of it.

DEVELOPMENT...Today I worked on my deadlifts again, this time doing 5 rounds of 3 at 90kg. Luke was giving me plenty of hints in order to correct my posture and technique whilst lifting. I was trying so hard not to take these critiques personally but my mental illness proved stronger today. I was starting to get frustrated and impatient with myself but my lifts were improving with each round and I tried hard to make each rep count.

WORKOUT...Today I used a Strongman Yoke for the first time, which is essentially a large metal frame that can be loaded up with plates. At first I was doing okay and slowly adjusting to the swaying motion of the side bars. I was finding it difficult to keep myself centered whilst lifting it up and also trying to pace myself with the walk. When it came to the last reps of the workout, I was lifting around 80kg or so and it was getting really tough on my neck and shoulders.

The physical and mental pressures were both bubbling up inside of me and I was ready to explode. I couldn’t shut my negative thoughts off (That’s not good enough, Don’t drop the frame, You’re a failure) and then it came out: I AM NOT A FUCKING FAILURE! I made a beeline to the nearest box and sat down, hands over my face, shedding a river of tears. I felt so embarrassed in that moment a) for letting the pressure get to me and b) for making such an uncharacteristic outburst in front of Luke.

The truth was that I was really angry at myself and I basically letting my mental illness off for interfering during my workout. I’d had enough. Part of me was also trying way too hard to please Luke and not disappoint him. I wanted to be “good enough” in his eyes and yet I felt like I couldn’t do anything right today. He assured me that I should be happy with the effort I put in but of course I wasn’t in the mindset to believe him or care. I just want you to be proud of me. I’m sorry that I failed you.

On Friday night, I attended my RPM class at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. This was a very last minute decision as I felt like I needed some high intensity exercise tonight rather than sitting at home or going out to a gig and replaying today’s events over and over in my head. I needed to release these internal demons and rid myself of this “I’m not good enough” mindset bouncing around inside my head. I needed to feel better about myself mentally.

Tonight’s class was instructed by Matt who was filling in for Natalie Blanch. It was a mixture of releases 40 and 72 which included the tracks Seal - If It’s In My Mind, It’s On My Face, Jennifer Lopez - Do It Well, The Cranberries - Zombie, Seven Lions - Falling Away and Andrew Rayel - Rise Of An Era. It was hitting around 70-80RPM for the easy ride sections, up to 85RPM for the standing cycle sections and 110-130RPM for the racing sections. http://w3.lesmills.com/israel/en/cl...

I immersed myself fully in the workout, taking in the trance and club songs as I was pedaling and imagining the cycle studio becoming something like a nightclub with green laser lights and DJ’s on the decks. It’s amazing what exercise can do for the mind and body. I was able to quieten those loud negative thoughts from earlier today and just focus on cycling. I always seem to sweat heaps in these classes which is a really good thing because it means I’m working hard. https://greatist.com/fitness/13-awe...

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

A Close Look at Four Trendy Diets

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/a-close-look-at-four-trendy-diets/

A Close Look at Four Trendy Diets

Sometimes it feels like there's a new revolutionary diet or list of superfoods being "discovered" every other day, especially during Spring, when everyone is getting ready for swimsuit season! Weight issues plague both people with type 1 diabetes and type 2 diabetes, but some of these diets can be tricky to understand. When you have diabetes and are trying to balance blood sugars, it can be difficult to know whether any given diet is a good choice. For National Nutrition Month, we're examining a four diet plans that have gotten the most hype: the South Beach Diet, the Paleo Diet, the DASH Diet, and Juice Cleanses.

Of course, the word "diet" is almost a misnomer these days, because it implies that the eating plan will eventually end. The fact is, most of these diets have long-term "maintenance" phases, so you never really stop dieting. It becomes a lifestyle, not a diet — which can be a good thing, as long as it's truly sustainable.

South Beach Diet

The South Beach diet is extremely popular, because there are no special foods to eat, calories to count, or points to count, and the format is easy to follow, with just three phases. The first phase attempts to curb cravings and jumpstart weight loss. Folks skip all starches, like potatoes, fruit, bread, cereal, rice, pasta, beets, carrots, and corn for the first two weeks. You can eat lean meats, eggs, cheeses and other dairy, vegetables, and healthy fats like nuts and avocado. Alcohol is also a no-no.

The second and third phases introduce more food into the diet. Healthy whole grains, fruit and starchy vegetables are allowed back, but foods with added sugar or refined carbs are still off limits. In the third, maintenance phase, which begins when you reach your healthy weight, you continue with the same foods as phase two, but there are more allowances for indulgences.

So how good is this diet plan for PWDs?

"There are elements of the South Beach program that are basic principles many nutritionists would agree with, like the reduction in refined carbohydrates, inclusion of high fiber fruits and vegetables," says Robyn Webb, Food Editor for the ADA's magazine Diabetes Forecast. "However, the emphasis on the amount of protein will not work for everyone and some of the unnecessary restrictions will also not work for everyone."

The restrictions especially in the first phase can make PWDs feel like they have to "cheat" when treating lows with juice or sugar, which can be a slippery slope because we all know that it's hard to stay motivated once you feel like you've "fallen off the wagon." And we PWDs often experience more lows when altering our diets to try to lose weight.

A few years ago, Amy gave the South Beach diet a try and noted that even though the second phase seems easier, it can be a slippery slope too because, "As welcome as it sounds, I know this is where things get tricky. Once we get a taste, we want more than a little (extra carbohydrate), don't we now?"

Nora Saul, CDE and Manager of Nutrition Services at Joslin Diabetes Center, actually advises PWDs at risk of hypoglycemia against using phase 1 of the South Beach Diet because of the restrictions. "It's best if they skip over that section," she says.

Paleo Diet

The Paleo (or Paleolithic) Diet is based on the simple premise that we should all be eating exactly how our ancestors, the cavemen, ate. That is, we should eat anything that can be hunted (fish and grass-fed animals) or gathered (vegetables, fruit, roots, and nuts).

Off the list are whole grains, dairy, legumes (beans and nuts), salt, refined sugar and oils. Proponents of the diet theorize that some of our problems (including type 2 diabetes) were born out of the rise of agriculture in our society, and that we humans were never meant to eat grains.

The Paleo diet has a huge number of fans and a large number of resources, including its very own magazine. We even found one PWD who has devoted his blog to his experiences with the Paleo diet. Mark Koekemoer, a type 1 PWD in South Africa, was diagnosed in 1996 and started following the Paleo diet in November 2011 after hearing about it at his local gym.

Mark says, "By cutting out carbs, I immediately reduced my total daily dose of insulin by more than half. I found immediately that with less insulin in my body, the rate of fluctuation of my sugars decreased. So I have had fewer highs and fewer lows, my sugars became more consistent and the standard deviation smaller. Pre-Paleo, my A1c was 6.2%, which is pretty good, but 3 months after switching to Paleo my A1c was down to 5.9% and I know it'll be even better next time."

He also notes, "You have to cook. Eating the Paleo way requires more preparation and cooking than the convenient sandwich or cookies would. But I feel that if it makes me feel the way I do and gets me the control I'm after, it's all worth it."

Experts aren't so sure these restrictions are necessary, mainly because the Paleo Diet cuts out legumes and whole grains, and relies heavily on lean meats, which can be dangerous for folks with cardiovascular issues (aka lots of PWDs). Also, some researchers question the historical validity of Paleo and whether or not it's necessary to go back to that diet in order to be healthy.

"While the Paleo program includes good foods such as lean proteins, nuts, vegetables and fruits, it's also a limited program and I question the accuracy of the evolutionary logic," says ADA Food Editor Robyn. "It eliminates beans, which I think has no basis. The elimination of refined sugars is a good idea, but overall I think the program may be difficult for one to follow."

The Dietary Approach to Stop Hypertension (DASH) Diet

This diet was named No. 1 in U.S. News and World Report's Best Diets 2012, and counts the National Heart, Lung and Blood Institute, the Mayo Clinic, and the American Heart Association among its supporters.

The DASH Diet is not primarily a weigh-loss diet; it was developed to promote (as you can imagine) heart health. This diet is simple to follow and has few restrictions, focusing on lots of fruits and vegetables, low fat or nonfat dairy, whole grains, lean meats and fish, and nuts and beans. The main restrictions are processed and red meats, sodium, and sugary drinks.

Is it good for PWDs? DASH relies more on whole grains than other diet plans, and those of us who struggle with the effects carbohydrates on blood sugar may have issues there.

But the experts we spoke to are big fans of DASH.

"Now we're talking!" says Robyn. "The DASH Diet is the most sensible one listed here. The reduction in sodium is a wise approach. The 'diet' is a healthy, balanced food program with great variety and emphasis on low sodium. It will naturally have one eating lean proteins, fruits, vegetables and whole grains."

"The DASH diet is great," says Joslin nutrition expert Nora. "Very high in fruits and vegetables. Low in saturated fat, and low in sodium. The diet was designed to lower blood pressure and it's a good diet for diabetes. It's higher in carbohydrates, but the carbs included are good choices."

There's even scientific evidence that DASH is good for type 2 diabetes. A 2011 study in Diabetes Care showed a modest weight loss and a nearly 2% drop in A1c for people with type 2 trying DASH. Another study in the Archives of Pediatric & Adolescent Medicine showed that 9-year-old girls who followed a diet very similar to DASH were the least likely to be overweight after 10 years.

Juice Cleanses

Strictly speaking, a juice cleanse is not a diet. The idea behind it is to "cleanse" the body of toxins and nastiness by drinking juices made from liquified fruits and veggies, plus water. Similar to phase 1 of the South Beach Diet, a juice cleanse, like the popular BluePrintCleanse, can help jump-start a new healthy diet by spending a few days to a few weeks detoxing yourself from any addictions or cravings to carbs and sweets. In theory, it sounds great, but in practice? It can be very, very difficult due to the extreme restrictions and total 180-degree turn you make on your lifestyle. It's also somewhat unnecessary, Nora tells us, as your body cleanses itself of toxins just fine on its own.

The Huffington Post has a whole list of dangerous side effects of juice cleanses. And in a New York Times article, Marianne Gillow, a psychiatrist who counsels patients with food issues, says, "My biggest concern about juice cleanses is that they fuel obsessive thinking. People who have trouble managing their weight tend to be all or nothing about things. Cleansing doesn't allow you to make peace with real food."

It can also rob you of important nutrients that your body needs. The juice cleanses are not meant to be used long-term, but they can still cause damage if used too often.

"Some people derive spiritual benefit from cleansings and fasts so that part can be good for people," says the Joslin Center's Nora. "There's a tiny bit of research that says that when you do fast, you break down fat, and when you do that, that's possibly a way to get rid of toxins that are stored in fat. But there's really no need for regular fasting or juice, and if you're drinking massive amounts of juice, your blood sugar is going to spike." Uh-huh.

Choosing Your Diet

So how do you know which diet is right for you? First thing you can look for is whether or not a diet is nutritionally sound. Anything that requires you to eliminate entire food groups or deprives you of nutrients is not a good bet. You also want to make sure it doesn't promise you magical results, like losing 17 pounds in 5 days. No matter how you do that, it's not healthy!

You also need to make sure that you're ready for the changes, and that the changes are something you can live with.

"It has to be something that fits into a person's lifestyle," Nora says. "If you eat out all the time and you're following a diet that makes you use very complicated recipe, that probably won't work for you. If you love pasta or some other food, and you're on a low-carb diet, long term that probably won't work for you."

Nora's comments are heartening: hopefully gone are the days when "old school" nutritionists just passed out diet sheets regardless of a patient's lifestyle choices. These days, working with a good nutritionist or dietician who listens to you can be valuable, especially if you're unsure of how a diet will impact your diabetes.

"Everyone with diabetes is different," says the ADA's Robyn. "I have some patients with kidney disease so they will need restriction in potassium and protein. I have some people who wish to be vegetarian. So I have all types of clients. Basically I design a well-rounded, high-fiber, low-fat food program that fits realistically into my client's life." Way to go, Robyn!

Have you tried any of the diets we highlighted today? Or do you have another fave that you want to tell us about? We're always looking for better ways to eat healthy ourselves, so we're all ears!

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

Type 2 Diabetes Treatment Type 2 Diabetes Diet Diabetes Destroyer Reviews Original Article