#got plenty of pics from vacations to reference >:)

[dasnercaret]

siffrin is icelandic btw . to me . in my heart

[ravenadottir]

Hear me out: headcannons about Bobby growing old with mc🥺 (I needed some fluff T-T)

no no no no no, you can’t just come in here and do this to me!! that’s so wholesome! i think i’m gonna have to divide this in decade marks, and maybe stop at the 30 year mark? i can do a part II later. 🤔

‘10 year mark’

the ‘mckenzie’ brand has expanded to restaurants, bars and bakeries all over the uk

the bars are considered a hot spots in the big cities. pictures of young ‘paisley cuddle’ are scattered on the walls, along with the pics from the villa’s parties, to set the theme

the restaurants have bobby and his experiences with famous chefs, like jake ‘sweetcheeks’ wilson, mary berry, gordon ramsey, wolfgang puck.

the bakeries however have the pictures from the time bobby went on the bake off show and won.

there’s small town models of the bakeries/restaurants that are seen as ‘family diners’

you and bobby already have two kids, 4 years apart from each other. in my head bobby is the type to have them earlier so they can live their best life together, have fun in the kitchen or in the backyard playing ball.

he loves throwing birthday parties every year, and of course, baking the cake. to which year is a different theme. “babe, you take care of the decorations and the details i’m definitely gonna forget, and me?” he puffs his chest holding a whisk. “i’m the cake guy.”

bobby is the reason why the kids love the parties so much. he’s the type of parent that goes on the slider with the kids, jumps with them in the bounce house, starts the water balloon wars…

the parents are so thankful for him since he’s pretty much the one who keeps an eye on them at all times.

usually, he’s waking up early every day because it became a habit since his hospital times. he never really shook that habit. so he prepared breakfast, takes the dog out, while you wake the kids up to eat and rush them to school

the dad that takes two different cameras and a phone to film and take pictures during his kids’ public presentations, games, recitals and science fairs “dad, one phone is enough” “yeah, but your dad needs backup! i’m from the 90′s darling. i can’t be any different” he says, shrugging with a grin.

you guys have a small house on the outskirts of glasgow or london, depending on who won the bet you had when you got married.

you’re pregnant again. entirely unplanned and now bobby can’t stop crying,. he always wanted three kids.

‘15 year mark’

a third child came three years ago, which made you consider a much more peaceful place to buy a house. and a bigger one for that matter.

bigger bakyeard means more people and their kids playing around the lawn, as bobby and gary grill sausages, making stupid jokes about it, and you and the girls have drinks shaking your heads.

you and bobby are gary’s kids’ godparents

ibrahim can’t come, he’s to busy making mad money on brand deals. noah is calming the kids down, by reading something in the living room, while bobby shakes a cocktail for the tired parents.

gary gives you a new couple of puppies, because the dog you had has unfortunately passed away. (sorry!)

your first kid is just turning 13 and being a little pain in the ass. but they like their uncles and aunties so they will actually raise their heads from *inser new device that will replace phones*

you guys travel in your car, to spend a week in cabins, fishing, playing ball, having picnics close to the lake

bobby always throws at least one of the kids in the water, before jumping in and splashing everyone. “bet you can’t do better than that, babe…” he says to you, raising his brows suggestively. “watch me, mckenzie.”

summer time and the lake became a tradition since it was the first place you and him spent a holiday alone

the employees that attend to you in hotels refer to you as “the mckenzie’s”

in the city, you have a trustworthy babysitter that will spend the night so you and bobby can have some time alone

he surprises you with dates and flowers out of nowhere

early nights are made for you and bobby to help the kids with homework

at this point, bobby is invited to be a special guest in cooking/baking competitions in the uk

and to have a “masterclass” of hiw own, where he mostly credits you for the idea of expanding, the execution of the administrative plans and how to actually expand a business. “i only do the cooking. she’s the genius behind the money.” he laughs while crossing his legs during his online course.

‘20 year mark’

kids’ sad times. graduations are happening. the youngest is entering third grade, the other one is in uni, far from home. “did you have to choose something so far from your old man?” “dad… of course! how else would i have a ‘paisley cuddle’ phase?” they respond, laughing. “i should’ve never told you thats story! now you’re having ideas!” “relax dad. everything is gonna be fine!” the middle one is entering high school and their rebellious phase.

bobby follows through with his part of the deal when you got married, by wearing something ridiculous to embarrass your kid at their graduation. “dad, you look like a hawaiian drug dealer.” “ i know,” “oh, so it wasn’t dark when you got dressed? mom!” “what can i say, your dad doesn’t care for blacks and blues.” “yeah, right…”

professionaly, bobby has a renowned signature dish, plenty of new ideas for the future, like school and courses.

the house is the same you bought five years ago, but now, it’s mostly parents getting together for barbecues, cocktails, movies and game nights

the younger children stay in the tv room upstairs

‘25 year mark’

your second child didn’t go to uni, and decided to help out on the family business. they always felt like this was the life for them and couldn’t wait to finish school to start.

bobby wanted them to go to school to learn everything they could “but dad, you didn’t, and you know so much.” “oof, they got you there, babe.”

you have a second wedding ceremony and a second honeymoon

bobby has a few grey hairs popping through his dreads

he’s still wearing colorful shirts and girls on social media call him ‘daddy’

he’s been invited to cook for the queen (yes, she’s still alive)

you see your friends a few times more a year now.

your third child is going to uni, to follow a career path you never imagined they would, but you’re proud of them

you decided to sell the house, that’s so big now, and find a smaller one that still has an extra bedroom for when your oldest comes to stay with their partner

bobby cracks dad jokes now, and according to gary, he picked them up from him “sure, gary, ‘cause you’re the only man on the planet who tells dad jokes” “stop bickering! you’re like an old married couple.” you say, slapping their arms playfully

‘30 year mark’

your first child just had their first child

“you’re a grandpa, bobs!” gary slaps him on the back, picking up a box of cigars that they will share with noah and ibrahim.

“can’t believe i’m this old.” “if you’re old, what am i?” you ask him, folding your arms on your chest. “beautiful?” he responds with a clear guilty expression.

‘things that would happen at all times during this entire journey’

bobby would sing to the kids every night

you would read them bedtime stories, taking turns to do the voices

it’s a tradition to cook together on special occasions, no matter what happens. the three kids, you and bobby would always spend the day listening to music, talking about life, slicing, sauteeing, mixing, measuring. it’s a tradition that will never die

when your grandkids come around, they will be the the ones resposible for measuring

drawings that your kids do in school akways have extra colors on bobby’s outfits. his name also has more than three colored letters

bobby has taught your kids how to play the guitar

rainy afternoons were known as “dad’s baking afternoons”

you and bobby had a hard time to find a compromise between being friends and parents.

open conversations with your kids, about everything. they knew what to expect in the world.

bobby’s parents would visit, to spend a whole weekend and share stories of his childhood, as yours would too

family vacation always had a ‘car trip and singing along to the radio’ type of tradition as well

your oldest now takes their child for family vacation in the same spot you and bobby used to

twice a year you guys rent a place for the family to have some bonding, even after they get married (or not)

“your dad is the finest pillow fort architect in the uk”

camping in the backyard when you had to cancel a trip

you’re in charge of coaching and playing sports in the back of the house while bobby relaxes under the sunlight “i was never very athletic”. he’s the empire

*these are the ones on the top of my head. i must’ve left dozens behind :/

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Sun 2 June

The full Australian Men's Health Liam interview is out and it's got a lot of interesting stuff in it. Liam seems to really be trying to work out who and how he wants to be, both personally and his public image. When he says that he's traded “lamborghinis, big houses, flash shit, gold chains" for "pickup trucks, lakes, sunrises" it feels like he hasn't figured it all the way out yet, but despite his self professed midlife crisis he in fact has plenty of time yet to get there. He talks about working out a lot, it is a fitness magazine after all but it really does seem to be pretty key to him as a big part of what he's shaping his sense of who he is around, about fatherhood and being angry that he was reported to have missed Bear's birthday, trying to settle on a personal identity and musical sound and physically settle somewhere and his take on getting on with things, "just fucking be a man about it but do it gently." I'd love to see him realize that his non toxic masculinity and gentleness is itself an unusual and beautiful identity to be proud of; there are so many things that he has fully developed and excels at that other people never accomplish, it's a shame he seems to feel he has to be something flashier and more. And, to put my gossip columnist hat back on, is it worth noting that the interview was apparently done during the height of the whole Laomi thing and he referred to himself as single? Just if anyone cares... He also liked a Stormzy post today about wholesome British youth BMX culture.

More LT vacation snaps every day, I guess this is just a thing now, with pap pics today of Louis on Ibiza yesterday at the club opening, wearing his official going out hat and having a great time by the looks of it. Well. Watching the game intently on his laptop while everyone parties around him and being papped with Eleanor, but also at some point getting into the swing of things and having some proper laughs while hanging out in the parking lot with his bodyguard and others, lovely to see. The mysteriously-missing-til-now Oli was there, with perhaps an explanation for his absence in Italy and on the boat; he's on crutches. I mean you can certainly go on a boat (and to Italy) on crutches but the back and forth to the dingy and all that strolling around wouldn't have been too fun for him, makes sense to skip it.

Music journalist Rob Copsey tweets that he interviewed someone recently and "Niall face-timed the person in the middle of it and he was naked in bed." If this guy is trying to drum up interest in who his next interview will be with, it's working! Whaddya figure, Lewis Capaldi probably? In much less interesting salacious Niall news, two Modest golfers were up against each other in a tournament semi finals; needless to say Niall was happy with the outcome, it being a win win situation and all.

A steady trickle of Harry pics from the gucci party, including one posted by Allessandro that Harry liked.

And Zayn's cousin Daniaal posted a pic of himself and Z that may or may not be current and arrived in what is probably Bradford today, presumably for Eid with the family; could be Zayn is with him, they often travel together.

[debbie-tanthorey]

65 DAYS IN MAY

CHAPTER ONE

Cosmic irony.  A dentist saved me. You read that correctly – saved my LIFE, albeit inadvertently.  An action as mundane as having one’s teeth cleaned, set fate in motion. Was the week of Thanksgiving 2019, bi-annual check-up.  Dentist does his thing after the hygienist finishes. You know the drill (pun intended).  Only this time he uncustomarily offers me a hand-mirror, tells me to look in my throat, asks me if I've had my tonsils out.

“No”

“You have a white spot back there, see that?” My eyes shift toward the mirror – I LIE – say I see it (don’t have my glasses on, PRIDE won’t let me admit I can’t see any white patch)  He continues, “If you don't mind, am referring you to an oral surgeon for a biopsy.”  The nefarious B-word; brain fires a warning shot.  B-word leads to the C-word. 

Alone now in my car, I fall apart.  Hi, I'm a hypochondriac; I don't handle health challenges well despite the jovial persona folks see.  A paralyzed-with-fear hypochondriac.  Foremost in my thoughts is a long-time friend from high school, currently dealing with a devastating throat cancer diagnosis; I know not to minimize this.  (R.I.P. Grady, August 8, 2020 😔)  Get to my desk, dial my primary physician immediately, which is a big deal for introverted-me; set up an appointment for a second opinion.  The Thanksgiving holiday means I can't be seen until the following week.  What is normally a fun, family-gathering time of year, is effectively fogged in with dread, I go through the motions.  All-consuming thoughts ruminate incessantly - I'm dying.  Yeah, it's what hypochondriacs DO, we ‘dive off into the deep end,’ thrash, drown in ‘what if’s??’

The next week, my doctor smiles after he peers past my tongue into my throat, “Where?” Looks twice, insists I relax, “It's nothing.” He knows me well, adding, “if it would make you feel better, let's follow-up in three months.”  His reassurance tempers my panic . .  life resumes. 

CHAPTER TWO

December 2019, January, February, 2020 the winter that wasn't.  Work that was. Mid-February Housing fair at Ohio University's Walter Hall Rotunda.  Event coordinator, Donna, introduces herself to Dave and me at our display table. Lively-soul, (I admire extroverts) she explains she recently transferred to this area from Columbus and, among other things, is a Stage 4 breast cancer survivor.  Woman is spunky. Piques my interest. I share my sister's email address with her, explaining Cheryl is an 18-month soldier waging the same battle.  

March approaches and the little nagging voice in my head reminds, “3-month follow-up, Deb, just do it.”  Did.  Friday, March 6.  Confirmed, no dumb spot. Ha!! Your basic normal appointment. Crisis debunked. As visit concludes, Hillary, his nurse, scrolls through my medical record, turns to mention it's been more than a couple years since my last mammogram, they’ve all been clear, but I'm due, and would I want to set up one. 

“Sure” 

My youngest, Leah, works in this same medical facility, stop at her desk near the lab to say ‘hello.’  She’s my last to leave home, miss her in my house still. Always good to see and talk to her.  She and Ian were married 18 months ago.  Her desk-mate, Jordan, coincidentally one of Leah’s friends from her high school days, sets up my mammo appointment for Monday.

MONDAY, MARCH 9.  Say ‘hello’ again to the girls at their desk.  Check-in. Take a seat, wait my turn.  Have had plenty of these 'grams in my lifetime, no big deal, no dread.  Bare 'em, squash 'em, and get back to work.  This time though, the tech knows my sister, and as I dress when we are done, from behind the screen she casually asks how old Cheryl was when she got her diagnosis and how’s she doing. (60. She is doing remarkably well, maintaining) 10 minutes later, I’m back at my work desk, phone rings, the mammo-tech is on the phone, needing me to return the next day for “a couple more, 'maybe clearer' pics, and an ultrasound.” That’s never happened before.  A fleeting shot of panic surges, but since my most recent dread has been unfounded, I attempt to not over-react.

TUESDAY, MARCH 10.  Keenly study the radiology-tech’s face for clues when she comes to fetch me from the lobby, I examine her demeanor as if I’m a police detective on a high-profile murder case and she’s my prime suspect.  She's calm.  So I'm cool. Rescan first, ultrasound second.  Not especially pleasant the latter, (idiotic thing to say, was wholly unpleasant ) having your chest unceremoniously smashed in a circular motion against your ribs.  The techs are studious, the room silent, I stare at the ceiling. Last time I had an ultrasound was 26 years ago and I was pregnant. Today, no fun at all. Understand now why my sister mentioned she is not a fan of these during her breast cancer struggles.

CHAPTER THREE

SATURDAY, MARCH 14, a knock on the front door, mailman is standing on my front porch and in the time it takes me to scribble my name on a card, I'm staring down at a certified letter in my palm, the return address of the clinic lunging off the paper at me. There's a low, barely-audible, foreign sound in my head.  It's 'control', in human form, and is protesting/whining as she’s being forcibly dragged away from me.  Remind myself I'm somewhat sane, an adult - just open the envelope.  I do.  And there it is, in black and white, the word -

ABNORMALITY

The rest of the weekend is a blur, debunking the need for concern with my daughters.  Every excuse, every plausible explanation of why a letter like this would be mailed.  A mistake, surely so.  Just a glitch in the system.  “Mom, if it was bad, they wouldn't notify you by letter,” Leah insists.

MONDAY, MARCH 16, my primary physician calls in regard to my somewhat-panicky email fired-off to him on Saturday, the day the letter arrives. He speaks in calm tones, explains he was on vacation the past week, is sorry he could not talk to me before the notice arrived, he's seen the offending spot on the film, offers it's so small, unlikely any cause for concern. “Indistinctive,” he assures. Forwarding to a surgeon for review.

CHAPTER FOUR

TUESDAY, MARCH 17, mama-daughter call . . normal stuff .. she’s working today at the clinic. She mentions the aforementioned surgeon has office hours today, maybe I could be squeezed in.  I’m in luck, they can.  So in a couple hours, I am shaking the hand of the head of surgery.  Personable guy, he tells me he's reviewed my pics, if the radiologist had not circled the area, he would not have noticed it right away.  Optimism duly noted. He thoroughly examines that body part, pokes and prods, asks me if I feel a lump. “I have not.” Today he doesn't either.  Every woman knows about lumps. I absolutely know about lumps. I would never ignore one.  Fact of the matter, there is NO lump! 

We go over my less than stellar immediate family history of C. (HATE that word). Lung, breast, leukemia.  He recommends biopsy to rule out any true problem. The B-word again.  This day I say, ‘ok'. 

Right here is where COVID-19 makes it's bizarro presence known, personally impacts ME. Doctor advises local surgery center is now closed due to the virus and procedures are limited to emergencies only but he is willing to go before the Board to plead my case.  ????  While thankful he is willing to intercede for me; I am tamping down anxiety fighting to rise up, mentally jumping up and down, stomping on it, both feet.

Couple days later I get the call the Medical Board approves me for a needle biopsy.  Control-of-my-life, she is sitting on the floor in a fetal position, rocking, whimpering in a locked padded-room somewhere.

CHAPTER FIVE

TUESDAY, MARCH 24, Jess drives me to Jackson.  I don't need driven. Appreciate my oldest’s company though.  COVID rules necessitate only a patient be permitted to enter any facility; Jess has to wait in the car.  At the door, am screened for symptoms, this is the Twilight Zone.  And it's too quiet in here.  The place is dark and weird and I don't want to be here.  I'm the ONLY person in the entire surgery center, I overhear the staff talking, they weren’t on the schedule today, I’m the only patient. hhmmmm, why am I so important??  Creepy.

Am ushered into the procedure room, nurses are professional, put me at ease.   Entering, it’s impossible to miss my film aglow on the lighted-box on the wall; she asks if I want to see it.  (NO!! I don’t want to see it!!)  In reality, robotically, walk over to look.  There it is, plain as day.  The previously described small-likely-nothing indistinctive spot.  Yikes, it's a glaring, ominous, bright white glob with literal tentacles reaching out, it’s in the middle of my precious flesh.  No denying this now. Thing’s staring back at me.  The only way I know how to describe the rest of the appointment, is that I am having an out-of-body experience, it’s not happening to me.  No . . . is not.

You know the lifts in a garage of an auto repair shop?  That's what this is. Clumsily climb aboard, assume a  face-down position. There's no delicate way to explain the procedure.  There's an enormous hole in the table, chest area, your beloved body part dangles and the table is raised, surgeon accesses it from below.  Area is securely taped, prepped and numbed.  Needles are fun, aren't they??!  (eye roll)  Am told the table will vibrate, surgeon cautions me to lay perfectly still or the laser will slice me.  (no problem, I float away, not even present in the room)  And it begins.  Computer guides a gatling gun of needles as it commences to stab the tumor, withdraw specimens of cells.  Sounds horrific, but it isn't, numbing tends to that. Divert my eyes from the red, fleshy goop siphoning into the container, my eyes clamped shut much of the time. Lasts just a few minutes, dress, then am on my way.  Visit the same surgeon in a week for the results. Will not come back to this location, by then this center will also be closed by the pandemic mandate, next appointment is at a nearby hospital.

CHAPTER SIX

APRIL 1, 2020, APRIL FOOL'S DAY.  First time I have ever visited this hospital, enter alone, virus protocol at the door.  Surgeon’s office on the second floor, take the elevator.  Few folks in the building, those that are, like me, are wearing masks.  As I wait, pilfer on my ipad.  Name is called, off I go.  Today I find out this thing is benign, that I have been spazzing for weeks over nothing, naturally. Don't wait long for the Dr., I remain seated as he enters, greets me.  He begins  talking as he walks across the room, lays down my chart, then turns, making eye-contact, “you are so lucky to have had this test, mammogram did what it was supposed to do; we've caught it early.”  

IT 

“...(I go effectively deaf)  blah-blah-blah-blah-blah CARCINOMA.” A cataclysmic concoction of consonants and vowels strung together into syllables, words, in sentence form, delivered matter-of-factly.  What happens here is nothing short of BIZARRE.  Always imagined if I heard the words, “you have cancer,” I would react BADLY.

I would -

be angry

weep

go to pieces

vomit

all of the above

In reality -

I did not cry

I did not faint

I did not scream

Instead, sit calmly, silently.  Stoic. Utterly, absolutely, wholly dumbfounded. ( this isn’t real - my head hurts - is this a stroke!?)  REALITY  Brain cells scramble to focus, I listen intently to every word, nod occasionally.  Hearing all, absorbing little, during this a crash course on three types of breast cancer and treatment options available.  (drifting off  - I like him, he gestures with his hands as he speaks of surgery options.)  Reconstruction; their plastic surgeon is top notch. The decision is mine.  The doctor adds simply, “you know what will happen if you do nothing.”

I do

Unceremoniously and without a second’s hesitation, I react, “Get it off me,” hand on my chest. (subconscious protesting, “I feel FINE!!!!  THIS. IS. STUPID!!”)

He nods in acknowledgement of my words, continuing, discusses recurrence rates on the opposite breast. Fuzzy math. Right here I interrupt him with the wave of a hand, “Get them both off me!” For good measure, I repeat it.  Decision made, bilateral mastectomy it is, ASAP.  Hands me a print-out with my diagnosis, I roll the paper up like a diploma and slip it in my bag.  Stare down at the bag I take to work everyday . . (new-reality thoughts commence) or did … back when life was normal.  

“Lousy April Fool’s Day, ya gotta admit.” I mutter out-loud to him as I rise to my feet, reach for the door.  (how am I walking??!)

Ah, but COVID-19.  Global pandemic, if it were a person, he’d be a cold-hearted, merciless jerk.  I have to wait 14 days, be symptom-free in order to be permitted in their surgery unit or risk contaminating the whole place.  Condemned to live with my killer for 15 more days, let it sleep with me, go to work with me, hang out with me while I visit my kids, grandkids.   Melodramatic? You betcha, but the truth.  All the while knowing the beast is growing.  

I don’t exit the building until I am pre-registered for surgery, receive copious instructions, am assigned a day, APRIL 16.  Next to the radiology waiting room, there I message my sister, she is the first to know.  I have breast cancer.  There’s lab work, x-ray, EKG.  Am a zombie.  A polite zombie with cancer making idle chitchat with techs who have no freaking clue my unremarkable and average life has evaporated in the last 45 minutes.  

Poked, prodded, scanned and x-rayed - my walk across the parking lot is a 1,000 mile trek.  Open the door, slide into the seat, fasten the seat belt, inhale deeply, fill my lungs with air just so I feel alive and less numb.  Stare at my hands. Wish I could scream without attracting attention.  Vomiting would be a blessing about now.  I seem to be the same person that got out of the vehicle two hours before. No, am not the same at all. HOW do I do this????! Any of this??  

HOW??????????!!!!!

In the days that follow, I will unroll my biopsy report, familiarize myself: invasive lobular carcinoma, 1.6cm, grade 1, ER+PR+HER2-. (translation = hormone fed)  I will become versed about the enemy within, that if left untreated, would put me in the ground. Knowledge is power.

CHAPTER SEVEN

How do you tell the people you love, you have cancer? How do you toss a live emotional-grenade in a room? As terrifying as it is for me, I have to watch the realization sink in, the fear in their faces.  Jess and Leah, my girls, having initiated a video chat with me as I wait for labs at the hospital. “Mom...well, how’d it go??” Not necessary to share details out loud, I crack, my eyes said all there was to say. Tough to hide that.  Awful is the fact I’m in a public waiting room as they ask, am trying to hold it together, not disintegrate, explode into pieces.  Watch them absorb what they now understand.  I can’t help them.

Morning of April 1, the plan was to go back to work after the appointment. I don't. I aim the car toward home.

But first, I stop at my mom's house, to reveal the diagnosis to her and George.  This is the first time I will say the words.  Standing in the middle of her living room, my mouth opens and the emotion-less words fall out, “I have cancer too.” It is weird to hear it voiced and I feel bad for her.  (her sister, my dad, my brother, my sister, now me) Explain to her what I plan to do and comfort that it'll be alright.  She supports my decision: show no mercy to the beast. 

Head home.

Turn onto my county road, Jameson calls, asks how the Dr. visit went.  Avoiding answering, instead, ask if they are home, that I will be right there.  Am thankful I am not them.  He ‘knows’ from my tone, detects from the question.  My son and wife, Patty, live 1/4 mile from my house, I arrive at their place in only a couple minutes, walk into their living room where they both were, learn the kids are upstairs, state the fact to the both of them, and I sit down for a bit.  Just like that. Keep it light and matter of fact.  

Life is insane. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

What follows is 15 days trapped in a state of in-between.  Desperate for normalcy yet knowing I can’t have it.  What to do. What. To. Do.  Staying right-minded is the aim.  Crave it.  C-word rarely leaving my thoughts. Every day ‘hospital Jessica’ calls me to ask a series of Covid-19 related questions and asks my body temperature that I am tasked with taking each morning upon waking.

What I CAN maintain right now, is routine.

COVID locks my office door in mid-March, am the only one staffing there.  OU student move-in/move-out day is May 3.  I’m the one in charge of this, making sure everything is ready. Can’t cancel it . . it goes on with or without me.  Scheduling surgery mid-April, slashes two weeks off my prep time for this once-a-year event.  Realize the timing could not be better, if there IS such a thing, I have little free time to ponder what’s coming, am too busy.  Every day I plow through my work to-do list.  Go home too tired to indulge doom and gloom.  

Away from the office too, I quickly find another diversion, researching and shopping for items I might need after the surgery.  Soft tops with inner pockets for drains management, ice packs, hot packs, special propping pillow.  A miracle they all arrive on time because Amazon Prime has been waylay-ed by the corona virus.  A sick and twisted ‘Merry Christmas to me’ as each package arrives.  In some small way, gives me a semblance of control.  

Sleeping is not an issue during these days.  It’s my safe place.  Sleep deep and well, courtesy of a little purple pill discovered years ago.  (thank you, menopause) Each and every morning, have about 30 seconds of ‘normal’ before I remember what demon is living in me.  

An entertaining activity during this time is staring in my lingerie drawer at the start of every day, choosing which style, what color bra for one last travel in the rotation.  I waffle.  At first, suffer pangs of melancholy while looking at the neat row of vibrant colors and lace.  Then chuckle, cups are large enough to be made into hats for small children.  No one wants to discuss my boobs, but this is an important part of the process of letting go.  Acknowledgement.  A girl spends what seems like her whole life waiting for these body parts to materialize; coveted, we dress them up, suspend them with steel reinforcement, make the best of them.  They feed our children, we rock our babies/grandbabies against them.  They’re part of who we are.   Mine are set for execution.  It’s them or me.

Time ticks by. 

CHAPTER NINE

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 15.  Mastectomy Eve, am something I have never been, radioactive.  True.  This day go into the hospital ALONE, pass through the covid-19 gauntlet; escorted to a quiet room with a massive machine, bet it was a CT scanner, I don’t ask, I lay down on a metal table and a needle is inserted in my chest region, right side (still find it weird to use the word ‘breast’) and a radioactive tracer is placed in my body at the sight of the tumor.  I’d researched the procedure a little (LIE . . I researched a LOT) beforehand, and read it would be EXCRUCIATING.  So expect the worst.  Naturally.  Tech is kind and reassuring; small talk.  I notice what great hair he has.  Stare at the ceiling as I lay there. Then the doctor comes in, says I’ll feel a stick (had read the area is numbed first)  expect that.  Did.  Not horrendous - that’s an exaggeration, barely felt anything.  Assume we wait for the numbing to take effect before he drills through to the core.  What I DIDN’T expect, is him to say, “you’re done.”  Meaning that tiny prick was it.  Say what now?  Before the morning’s surgery, I’ll come back to this table, and will find out if the cancer has leeched into any lymph nodes.  I dress and exit the building.

ESCAPE! The rest of this day IS MINE. I take my dreary thoughts, my diseased chest, the ‘DD girls’ , and we hit the road, took the long way home.  Gave ‘them’ the best darned last-day-alive you could ask for.  Was the least I could do considering what I was consenting to do to them.  Pitied them and wanted them DEAD at the same time. Them or me.

Flowers waiting for me when I got home, the first time I sobbed in earnest. A torrent of tears.

CHAPTER TEN

THURSDAY, APRIL 16, 2020.  DtoDD DAY.  Death to DD’s Day.  (and my Mom’s 81st birthday) Eerily calm. I grab my packed bag, stare at my freshly-made bed as I turn to exit the bedroom.  Oh here comes one of those bizarro thoughts I have at times like this. Glancing around, mutter, “when I return, nothing will be the same.  Gee, I hope I come back.”  Melodramatic to a fault I am.  Patty drops me off at the hospital door at a ridiculously early hour.  Did I mention this is during a pandemic so no one can come in and that the hospital is spooky-empty and hushed??  Well, it is.  Apocolyptically-quiet.  Surreal.  Check-in is swift and efficient and a surgery-nurse retrieves me promptly, accompany her to the prep area. this is real?

This unit has a circle of several cubicles, all but three are empty though.  Settled in, changing into hospital gown, then I have three hours to ponder the fact that the last time I had surgery was 26 years ago and I am not as young as I used to be, and nowhere near ready to die, and lordy, I am no fan of pain.   I feel FINE . . how can something deadly be in me yet I feel this HEALTHY??

In the hours I wait, return to scan-room to see if this thing has reached my lymph nodes.  Dark room, humming machine.  Same tech lets me watch the screen, bright lights like tiny fireworks become visible. No clue what I am watching.

My appointed time arrives, was about 9:30 a.m.  Accompanied by a surgical nurse, I walk down the hallway to the O.R., my IV pole in tow. this isn’t real  Three surgical staff are busily prepping. Funny how apprehension makes one awkwardly talkative with strangers, more so than normal.  I greet them and cannot shut up, blather, “you know how kids took home tonsils in a jar?? (clutching my chest)  you have a gallon jug I can take these home with me?”  (yes, I really did say it)  Laughter from them, that’s good. Am offered a stool to climb onto the table.  I do.  My God, to the gallows, ‘girls’

Jettisoned into the Twilight Zone right here.  In the time it takes me to scoot, get comfortably horizontal on the table, sterile people descend on me, all over me doing things.  Arms, legs . .  belt around my abdomen.  Am picturing masked-ants.  Busy, busy.  Big light on the ceiling lowering, settles above my upper torso and head.  I feel FINE  Am here, but not here.  Oh God.  Gentle voice to my right, as a mask is fitted over my nose and mouth, “take a couple deep breaths.”

Blackness.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I’m struggling in deep water, not diving down - but up, shooting to the surface of the water, I need air.  Regaining consciousness, a jostling, repeating,  “Debbie, wake up.  Can you hear me?”  Awake.  Literal first conscious thought, drenched in relief -

“... NOT DEAD” 

Body is being tugged, moved, but I’m not doing it.  Realization hits me, where I am and what's happened.  Conscious, I no longer feel fine, unrelenting waves of nausea wash over me.  I give myself over to whichever medical professional wants to tend to me. They can have me, I don’t want me.  Not this me.

End up in a hospital room, no recollection whatsoever how.  Silence interrupted only by BP cuff on an ankle, inflating noisily at intervals reminding me I’m alive.  Not moving.  Lord, what have I done?  Ice packs under both arms.  Detest feeling this gross.  I hang onto the sheets for hours, ride out the nausea.

As terrible as that was, and it was horrendous, it ends abruptly once I am fully awake later in the afternoon. In fact, feel remarkably good - considering. Any pain is well-managed. I can move, even lift my arms. I can walk to the restroom, tend to myself.  Am hungry and eat a good dinner. Pleasantly surprised at this half of the day.

Curious. Here’s where I gingerly lift the blanket to get my first look. DD-girls are gone, replaced by a thick layer of bandage all across my chest, tubing, two drains, and . . . oh my lord . . . HOW long has my belly been that size??????!  God bless boobs, they divert one’s attention from a myriad of flaws. Geez-louise.

Thank you, Covid-19, for the hospital stay’s solitude, I don’t mind, I welcome not having to share this day with visitors.  Am only interrupted intermittently by nurses and the doctor.  No big deal.  Not much to tell.  Post on facebook that I survived.  Was released to go home the very next day with surgeon’s, “no restrictions. See you in a week, will have lab results for you then.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

FRIDAY, APRIL 17. HOME.  Here’s where it gets funny.  Seriously.  Humorous.   Reality.   My youngest, Leah, volunteers to stay for the first few days.  Plan on not needing much in the way of assistance.  Stubborn.  Not too uncomfortable, prop on pillows, watch tv, pain meds.  First-night, decide my bed is where I will sleep, let her have the couch.   Undeterred in the middle of the night, manage to get myself to the bathroom alone. Good for ME!! Ah, but then the sun comes up. Right here I discover Super Woman I am not.  Attempt the same maneuver and the stabbing pain angrily asserts, “NOT THIS TIME, SISTER!”  Ah, bladder is bossy and insistent. But Pain is in charge.  “#*&@*#&$}” a little too loudly (translation) “Leah!! Help!!”  She comes trotting and I’m laughing, trapped in my own bed.   Arms frozen at my sides, literally cannot move under my own power without an instant excruciating reaction.   With urgency (full bladder loudly protesting) instruct her to wring a bed sheet, get to the foot of the bed, hold the ends, let me grab the middle . . . PULL!!   It works!!  Whew, lesson learned, until I could get up and down on my own unaided, I didn’t sleep there again.  

Drains.  Grateful to only require two.  Three times a day they need emptying.  Unceremoniously, Leah’s job.  When large portions of flesh are removed, one’s body compensates by attempting to fill the space with fluid, drains are typically inserted to draw off this fluid, speeding recovery.  These ‘things’ (drain hoses) are just under my skin across the width of my chest, a stitch holding them in place at the hole (yikes) where they exit on either side.  The bulbs at the end of the 12 inch lines are clear grenade-shaped receptacles collecting wound-juice.   (you winched at the visual, didn’t you?  haha)  They get full.  Necessary to milk the line first, with sterile gloved fingers of one hand, she grasps and steadies the line where it exits my body, with the other, she slides her pinched fingers down the tubing, pushes the ooze and any clots to the end. Pops the top of the bulb, empties 'ick' into a measuring cup, and logs the amount and color.  Squeezes the bulb as she closes the lid so siphon will commence. My only job is to 'enjoy' the vigorous suction.   eek

I sit dutifully still on a stool while she goes about her ‘work’, chit-chatting about this and that, am intentionally not watching the gore slipping, dripping into the bulb. She's not hurting me but every now and then will feel a subtle tug, a movement of the tubing.  (shudder)  Sunday evening she taps the bulb’s bottom on the table, remarking, “darned clot won’t fall through.”  (rap, rap, smack)  “Eww, that’s gross,” she says, “clot (tap) won’t (tap) let go ( jiggling it, the dangling, stringing bloody blob just hanging there, swaying back and forth).”  My skin is warming . . . interesting sensation . . getting hot.  Really HOT.  She is sitting right next to me, is talking but her voice is fading.  Am looking her direction, but she is drifting away in a misty vapor . . . waaaaaaaaaaaay over there now, voice, can’t hear her.  Vision going and the room is moving ever so slightly.

I see my girl in slo-mo, she realizes what is happening, "Mom, Mom ... MOM!" (my mouth no longer works, cannot respond) hear her excited, “DAD!!!! Come quick!! Help! Mom’s passing out!!!”

Didn't. (did get to the couch . . sat still for an hour, feet up . . w/ice pack alternating on my neck, forehead) Didn’t vomit, so that's a 'WIN" for the day.

I learn to do it myself once she goes home. No big deal.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THURSDAY, APRIL 23.  A week passes, mostly uneventful.  Sick leave, lounging, medicating, tracking excretion of Deb-juice, healing.  Tough to remember the days in March and early April when I felt GOOD.  I feel terrible.  Blah - which to me, IS terrible.  No fever, no signs of infection, just a general feeling of malaise. (such a descriptive word, ‘malaise’)  Post-op visit, a follow-up with the surgeon. Oldest daughter Jess, chauffeur for the day.  The entire drive down to Gallipolis, I imagine they’ll take one look at my sorry self, react in horror, re-admit me immediately.  I have to be dying, something has to be terribly wrong. No one can feel this bleak and survive. 

Mull my life over for that hour drive, did I live it adequately, what is left that I have not done, am I going to throw up IN or OUT of her car . . oh woe is me . . my thoughts are rambling, disjointed, grim.  (BEYOND melodramatic) LOL  Get to the hospital, I have to admit I cannot even walk in under my own power.  I have no power, drained dry.  Jess requests a wheelchair and I feel how I imagine being 150 years old and feeble feels, reliant on a stranger for transport up to the waiting area.  Pitiful.  I hate this.  Too puny to care.

And remember COVID . . Jessica can’t come in with me.  My mummified remains parked in a desolate waiting room.  sigh  I need a transfusion.  I need a transplant, I need SOMETHING . . want my life back.  Where’d Debbie go??!! 

Eventually wheeled into the exam room (decrepit thing that I am) to wait.  Surgeon enters, his normal perky self, smiles my direction.  I lament the state of (absence of) well-being and inability to go to the bathroom for DAYS.  (how embarrassing)  “Sweetheart (NO, he did not say 'Sweetheart’) it’s your pain meds doing this to you.  STOP THEM.” 

huh?????! 

Examines the 12-inch incisions on either side of my torso. Both doing well. No stitches to remove, interior stitches will dissolve on their own. Exterior sterie strips will fall off in the next week. He studies my drain-log, then simply remarks, “looks great, amounts are decreasing steadily. You want them (drains) out today?” (glimmer of hope) Instantly agree, so without ceremony and with a quick snip of a stitch and a wiggle of the tube and a firm TUG, one Jackson Pratt drain is out. Nasty thing now coiled on the exam table. OUT!!! The other follows swiftly. Oh dear lord . . feels soooooooo good to be rid of those things. Best part . . expected to have them at least another week, that the extrication of same, would be horrendous. Wasn’t. Didn’t hurt actually. Bandaids applied to my newest holes. No stitch, no nothing. “See ya in a month. No restrictions.”  Surprised he didn’t pat me on my sorry head.

Trip home is infinitely better, envision the tunnel and light shining in the distance. aaaahhhhh

Not another pain pill crosses these lips . . the man is a genius.  (epilogue: my decline was indeed induced by the pain meds . . out of my system - recovering was a breeze.  TIP: get off them as soon as you can)

P.S. Almost forgot the most important part!!!!! Lab results!!!  Geez . .the tunnel, the light . .  THIS IS WHY!!!  TODAY I learn I am CANCER-FREE‼️‼️‼️ Well, I would hope so!!  Nearly six pounds of flesh sacrificed / removed . . CLEAN MARGINS around the tumor. Lymph nodes are CLEAR!!! Sentinel node removal a bit messy, seven others unable to be separated from it, come out as well.  Sobering fact is that I, nor the surgeon, felt a telltale lump - but it was there.  In black and white, sobering words, “STAGE TWO”. Appointment  with oncologist in May to discuss options.  Why???  Here's the thing about breast cancer, sometimes IT COMES BACK. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Want to tell you the euphoria was warmly welcome and long-lasting.  Yes and no, in that order.  Sharing with friends that surgeon ‘got it all’ was met with copious genuine exclamations of ‘thank God!’ and ‘hallelujah’.  For good reason.  Pathology report of clean margins and clear nodes is a positive outcome. IT’S GONE!!  And like me at this juncture, believe that’s the end of it.  Too few days of relief pass swiftly -  the reality that it may not be over, steadily seeps back in as I educate myself.  But with a stubborn childlike optimism, trust the oncologist will study my diagnosis, pronounce my journey with this evil thing over. “Deborah, congrats, you’re finished with it and it with you. Have a nice life.” Let’s go with that.  I want it.

Just a couple more weeks to find out.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

In the meantime, at home I’m getting bored.  ‘Bored’ is WONDERFUL.  It’s normalcy.  And a strong signal that it’s time for life to go on.

I am well enough to attend to work emails, becoming more frequent as students prepare to leave Athens officially, the stalwart diehards who came back after Spring Break despite the lockdown that commenced mid-March.  Boredom, the impetus, that gets me out of the house.

TUESDAY, APRIL 28, 12 days post-op, several days free from pain-killers and feeling almost back to my old self, I slide behind the wheel of my car, new precious pillow between sensitive chest and the seatbelt and drive to work.  Man oh man, how I missed 70′s radio . . sing all the way.  I last at my desk for 4 hours this first day, mindful to recognize limitations, cut the day short, but go home triumphant.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

THURSDAY, APRIL 30.  Meet-my-oncologist day.  (mentally mark off THAT on my ‘Life’s List-of-Dreads’) First things first, why am I here??!  Surgeon recommends I have a chat with the man . . rule out the need for anything further.  Youbetcha. Today is THE. DAY!!  Fully expect to be ‘blessed’ and sent on my way . . “Debbie, you were lucky, it’s all gone.  Your cancer journey was intense and brief and now it’s over. Go live your life, girl.”

Check in.  Hunker down at the back of the vast lobby, comfy chair.  I absorb the room.  Oh you know I don’t want to, but I do.  A few patients are here.  One unhealthy looking older lady on a hospital stretcher over there.  Another slightly-weathered woman near the wall, wearing a turban.  And there’s me.  Odd-man out, pain-killers now out of my system: (yes yes, am minus the ‘girls’) full head of thick hair, kinda sorta minimally wrinkly, feeling strong and healthy . . . like me again.  

Name called.  BP and weight.  Perks of the day . .  bp is good, especially good for me.  Literally-asked-the-nurse-to-repeat-the-numbers good. And am down 10 lbs.  I’ll take it!!  Gee, this visit is headed in the right direction! 

Lead to an exam room, given a questionnaire.  Ugh.  Bottom of the page.  Please list details of immediate family members . . . health issues, explanation.  Here we go . .  Melvin / dad / died in 2000 @64 / lung cancer (scribble to the side ‘life time smoker’ . . like it somehow negates the dying)  Tim / brother / died in 2000 @39 / leukemia (again, the scribbling, master mechanic, hands in chemicals)  Stephen / brother / died in 1957 @6 weeks / S.I.D.S.  Bottom of this page is an OCD nightmare, ink scribbles in every direction, sad that I ran of space. Add, “Cheryl / sister / is 61 / @60 stage IV breast cancer (’maintaining’ . . didn’t add, but wanted to, “THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!”)   Janice / mom / is 81.  Terry / brother / is 55.”  Finishing up, as MY oncologist enters the room.

Brief introductions . .  Cursory physical exam of surgical site.

Oncologist reviews the information I provide, studies my chart.  Two verbal inquires of me - 

do you or have you ever smoked? “no”

do you drink alcohol and how much? “rarely” 

He pauses.  He can ascertain I’m not fudging the details.  “Never?” he queries again.  Shake my head in the negative.  Sincerely he adds, “this makes NO sense. Risk factors are not there for breast cancer.  No sense at all.” 

Dr. Hamid relates there is a genetic test that can be performed using my tumor tissue, (eewwww, they still have it!!)  the results determining whether or not chemo therapy would be of any benefit to me.  Again - I am confused why a person who is now disease-free, minus seven pounds of her best flesh, needs ANYTHING additionally.  I consent.  He jots down for me the chemo recipe that I would receive if it’s indicated.  Metaphysically burns my fingertips as I take the slip from him. (chemo??! stifling a scream)  If not, I would be prescribed a pill to stop my body's remaining production of estrogen.  Anastrazole is the drug of choice, there are a few common side effects: bone/joint pain, fatigue, etc.  Majority of women experience no side effects of any kind, he assures.  (mental note of an over-achiever: I will be one of THOSE)  Dr. adds, “Lab work takes about two weeks to get back.  Come see me in two weeks please.   Oh wait . .  you drive quite a distance to get here, right?  Just call my office on May 13, we can handle this over the phone.”

uh huh  . . .  so much for being blessed and sent on my merry way.  CHEMO, sub-set item under 1. CANCER on  ‘Life’s List-of-Dreads’.  TRULY . . . there is nothing I enjoy MORE, than waiting on test results.   (epic eye-roll right here, stomach twists in knot)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

This is the last chapter of ‘65 DAYS IN MAY’ (today it’s February 25, 2021) I am a procrastinator.  Am still me, after all.  My instructions were to call oncologist’s office on Wednesday, May 13, 2020, to learn whether or not chemo therapy was the next step in my cancer treatment.  By now I have little recollection of the blur of days between April 30 and when Dr. Hamid called me with my genetic testing results, my Oncotype score.  Every day seemed endless, recovering well, feeling progressively more like myself.  I let work duties bulldoze me through those days, thoroughly occupied. I was thankful to have nearly 300 college students moving-out and moving-in on May 3rd.  Grateful to be bone weary at the end of each day, having little time to thrash about the prospect of chemo - that, and staying safe as COVID rampaged.

TUESDAY, MAY 12, at my desk, alone in a pandemic-locked-down office.  One last day not having to call, know anything.  Ignorant bliss.  Phone rings, spy caller I.D., uh-oh, cancer center.  I stop breathing.  Lift receiver, ‘Hello, this is Debbie.’  Not breathing.   HERE WE GO  (9+ months later now, still recall the catch of my breath and pounding heart.  Am not exaggerating when I tell you time froze.)  Dr. Hamid’s voice was soft, he wasted no time relating my Oncotype score plus chance of recurrence is low and chemo is not necessary in my situation. He’ll call in an Anastrazole script for me, it cuts my chance of recurrence to less-than 5%.  Only question I had, “what exactly was my number?”  17    “See you again in 6 months,” as he ends the call.  Stare at the phone receiver clenched in my hand.

NO CHEMO . .  with exorbitant gusto, I EXHALE

Celebration fireworks in my head, both hands in the air, stifle an audible, triumphant HALLELUJAH!   For the moment, issued a reprieve.  I soak it up.  Once composed, swivel chair to my right, run my palms slowly, purposefully over the desk calendar, lift the pages, studying, absorbing.  Begin to count . . . .

STINT IN PURGATORY - 65 DAYS IN MAY

EPILOGUE

(stay tuned)

[ghostofviperwrites]

Something Different

Requested by: @willalwaysprotectyou

Featuring:  Sanada/FC

Category:   Suggestive

Word Count: 1370

Warnings: Language, talk of sex, and sexual content

12.          “You know what?  You’re right. I do need to get laid.” 

On the wooden table in front of him Sanada’s phone buzzed pulling his attention from the newest press rules packet he had been defacing as the suit at the front of the room droned on and on about the western expansion and why it was important to put their best foot forward and blah, blah, blah.  

Picking up his phone Sanada opened the message notification, being greeted with a picture of a pair of tits almost spilling out of a hot pink bra.   Well, that was certainly more interesting than what he was currently engaged in.  Looking at Evil who was seated to his right Sanada nudged him with his elbow and showed him the pic.

Evil nodded approvingly grabbing Sanada’s phone from his hand and typing a simple message. 

“More.” 

“Asshole.”  Sanada said grabbing his phone back.  “I didn’t want to text her back.” 

“I want to see her tits.”  Evil said with a shrug.   

“Fine.  I’ll give her your number and then she can bother you.”  Sanada said earning a dirty look from Evil. 

“Don’t you dare.”  Evil growled. 

A shadow loomed over them drawing their attention to the man glaring up at them. 

“Are we keeping you two from something?”  He asked.  “If you can’t keep yourselves from interrupting our presentation, perhaps you should leave.” 

That was all the invitation they needed, both of them standing and making a beeline for the door leaving the press officer gaping at their newly vacated seats.  He had thought he was chastising them, never imagining they would actually walk out of the meeting without as much as a backwards glance. 

“I didn’t think they would actually leave,” He said quietly as he resumed his spot next to his superior officer on stage.

“Of course they would.  You gave them an open invitation, and now they can’t get in trouble because you told them to go.”  His boss hissed.

–

As they walked towards the parking lot Sanada’s phone buzzed once again.  This time Evil took the phone before Sanada even opened the message pushing Sanada away and holding the phone out of his reach as he checked out the picture message.   

Instead of the tit pic he was expecting he found a full length pic of her spread out on a bed revealing her whole body encased in the pink lingerie set. 

“That wasn’t what I wanted to see.”  Evil typed back with an aggravated huff. 

“What the hell is she playing at?”  Evil asked Sanada as they arrived at their cars.  Evil ignored Sanada’s hand reaching out expectantly for his phone when another message pinged.  A message coyly asking what it was he wanted to see from her.

“That is why I don’t text back.”  Sanada said giving up his attempts to recover his phone and leaning against his car as he watched Evil’s agitation grow.  “Now you’ve engaged her and she thinks she’s special.  If you would’ve left it on read she would be texting pictures of her snatch by now.” 

Evil grumbled irritably tossing the phone back to Sanada. 

“You can deal with her.  Fucking twit is too stupid to know I want tit pics I’m done with her.”  He said. 

“This is how you deal with her.” Sanada said pulling up the contact and pressing the block button.  “Easy.” 

Rolling his eyes Evil leaned back on the bumper of his truck looking over the parking lot. 

“Let’s get out of here before they decide to drag us back in there.”  Sanada said pushing off his car and moving to the driver’s door.  “Want to come have a few beers?” 

Evil nodded in agreement, climbing into his own vehicle to follow Sanada to his house. 

Once they were at Sanada’s they went straight to the game room, Sanada pulling beers out of the fully stocked bar and tossing one to Evil before the headed to the pool table. 

“She a good fuck?”  Evil asked referring to the newly blocked lingerie girl as he racked up the balls. 

“She was in my phone.”  Sanada said by way of response.

“You’re gonna block a good fuck because she sucks at texting?”  Evil asked selecting a pool cue and motioning for Sanada to break. 

“I’ve got a lot of good fucks in my phone.”  Sanada said with a snap of his stick sending balls crashing over the table. 

“Stripes.”  He called moving around to line up his next shot. 

After sinking a few balls it was Evil’s turn, Sanada leaning against the wall and drinking his beer as his tag partner lined up shots with precision burying them with ease.   Making himself comfortable by hopping up on the stool Sanada watched as Evil methodically cleared the table.  This always happened.  He didn’t know why he bothered playing pool with Evil.   Sanada knew why Evil always let him break, just so Sanada would get a few shots in before Evil ran the table.  

Sanada flipped off Evil as he grinned smugly while the eight ball sunk into the side pocket. 

“Want me to rack them up again?”  Evil asked making no effort to reach for the rack.  He knew Sanada’s answer. 

“No thanks.  I’ve had my ass kicked enough today.”  Sanada said wryly.   “Air hockey.”  He nodded towards the table in the corner while Evil grumbled.  As good as he was at pool, Evil was equally bad at air hockey.  

“Alright I’ll take my ass kicking.”  Evil said flipping the switch to activate the table.   “Provided you order some sushi and pizza.  I’m starving.”  

“Sushi and pizza?” Sanada complained wrinkling his nose.  “That’s disgusting.  One or the other fine, But together?”

“Just fucking order the food pretty boy.”  Evil ordered.  

Once their order was placed the pair commenced their game, the puck flying fast and hard over the surface.   They only called it a game when the food arrived, straggling upstairs to gather their food, and take up residence in the living room Evil finding a baseball game on the TV.  

“If you combine those I swear I will punch you in the fucking face,” Sanada warned as he watched Evil piling slices of pizza and sushi onto his plate. 

“Live a little.”  Evil scoffed.  “It’s good.”  Challengingly staring at Sanada, Evil put a couple of rolls on his slice and wrapped them in the crust taking a big gooey bite with relish. 

“I think I just threw up in my mouth.”  Sanada said looking peckish while he grabbed his beer and took several deep swallows. 

“You’re so uptight today man.  Relax.”  Evil said through his mouthful.  “I think you need to get laid.” 

“Lack of sex is not my problem.”  Sanada said wryly. 

“Lack of good sex then.”  Evil said sagely, his head nodding as he grew enamored with his theory. 

“I have plenty of good sex.”  Sanada argued hotly.  

“I’m talking dirty, nasty, make you sick when you think about it afterwards sex man.”  Evil said.  “With those dirty girls that make you scared you’re going to catch something.” 

“I don’t like skanks.”  Sanada said with a roll of his eyes.  “You know that.”

“I do know that.”  Evil agreed.  “But you gotta have that freaky shit sometimes. It’s invigorating.  Almost spiritual.  I bet the last time you let a dirty girl near you was when we went out last year, wasn’t it?” 

Sanada conceded with a nod, admitting the last time he had slummed it had been when out celebrating with Evil.  Despite his protestations, there was a part of him that had missed that so dirty you wanted to shower when you were done feeling.  

They settled into silence, the baseball game catching Evil’s attention, but Sanada couldn’t stop replaying Evil’s words in his head.  He had been bored lately.  Maybe he needed something different to get himself back on track.

“You know what?  You’re right. I do need to get laid.”  He surprised himself by speaking up and could see he had surprised Evil too.   “I need some hot dirty sex.” 

Evil grinned and rose to his feet.

“I know the perfect place.  Let’s go.” 

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #57: Thanks, Jay Z (8/9/2018)

Turns out last week was a pretty good one to take off. Very little of major note happened in the Twenty One Pilots sphere while I vacationed in the Canadian wilderness. This week, however... that’s a whole other story. 

New music. New music video. New track list. New merch. Let’s get into it. 

This Week’s TØPics:

“Levitate” and Trench Track List Leak, and Then...

“Levitate” Video and Trench Track List Released

“Jumpsuit” Drops Off the Hot 100 (But Still Gains At Radio...)

Mark Goes Off

AND MORE

Major News and Announcements:

On Tuesday, the streaming service Tidal briefly posted the third promotional track for Trench before realizing their mistake and taking it down. This still provided the Clique with plenty of time to record and post it in so many places across the Interwebs that Warner Music Group’s copyright bots couldn’t hope to catch up. The likelihood that Tyler and Josh leaked it themselves is honestly pretty low extremely high.

The track, entitled “Levitate”, is the most unmistakable hip-hop track in the band’s discography thus far. Running at a tight 2:20, Tyler delivers some truly impressive bars in what is essentially a single extended verse, constantly mixing up his flow against a slick trap drum beat and the eerie synth that was hinted at in the end of “Jumpsuit” (if the entire album flows from song to song like this... automatic 10/10). 

Lyrically, “Levitate” sees Tyler discussing the role of songwriting in his life, a form of expression that allows him to “fire-breathe” and “levitate” beyond his problems. The song is littered with gems (“we are not just graffiti on a passing train”) and jabs against the music industry for trying to rein him in or make him into something he’s not (“this culture is a poacher of overexposure, don’t feed me to the vultures”, “you’re the worst; your structure compensates, but compensation feels a lot like rising up to dominate”). The reference to Tyler getting back “what I once bought back in that slot, I won’t need to replace” is perfect, and I’m still emotional about it.

I do have a few minor quibbles with the song. I think the looped instrumental is a little too minimalistic to justify the length of the outro. “At least they all know what they hear comes from a place” and “you can levitate with just a little help” lack specificity and fall a little flat for me. And I’ve expressed before that I’m not overly interested in songs about the music industry that aren’t directly applicable to most people’s experience (sorry, "Fairly Local” and “Lane Boy”). 

All that said, the production and presentation is so slick. Plus, Tyler grounds the song in enough personal experience and relatable struggles that it succeeds in crossing over that gap of fame and success to actually hit home. Lines like “danger in the fabric of this thing I made,” “I thought I could depend on my weekends on the freezing ground,” and “don’t feed me to the vultures, I am a vulture who feeds on pain” show the same vulnerability and self-aware introspection that attracted me to the band in the first place.

“Levitate” wasn’t all we got from the leak. An updated version without the yellow duct tape over the track list was included as the background, revealing the names of the other eleven songs that we’ll hear sometime between now and October 5th. The track list is as follows:

Didn’t think that I’d struggle with a song title more than “Bandito”, but “Pet Cheetah” and “The Hype” are really gonna have to go the extra mile in ways that no other song from the band has before to justify those artistic choices. (That said, “Neon Gravestones” sounds rad as hell.) We’ll save picking apart the meaning for all of these titles for a later date; we’ve still got another two months before the album is out, and I don’t think we’ll be getting any new songs or videos until late September at the earliest, so we’ve got time.

ln the wake of the leak (much like with “Heathens” two years ago), the song and video for “Levitate” were pushed out the following day, two days earlier than originally planned if the date on Tidal is anything to go buy. The third installment in this Trench trilogy features Tyler and Josh performing the track at the Bandito camp while vultures fly around looking cool. At the video’s conclusion, Tyler is snatched away from a campfire by a bishop and dragged without a struggle back to Dema. One Bandito looks frightened by this, but another just ominously states “Welcome to Trench”.

I must confess that this music video didn’t fully do it for me. While the production value remains stellar, the “Car Radio” call-back with shaving Tyler’s head is great, and I love any opportunity to see the boys perform together, “Levitate” as a song is frankly too short and moves at a too breakneck pace to make a truly compelling video out of the song alone. I’m honestly shocked that there wasn’t a longer extended scene attached to the end of the video to provide a stronger narrative conclusion to the pieces laid in the last two videos, especially considering that “Jumpsuit” opened with such a scene. As it is, the video moves by so quickly and shares so many aesthetic qualities with its two predecessors that it didn’t leave much of an impression on me.

There is, however, one (potentially unintentional) aspect of the “Levitate” video that really resonated with me. Tyler enjoying himself while performing and being with people only to be yanked out of the group once the energy dies down a little is a perfect representation of anxiety and depression, which so often sets in without warning in circumstances where one would think are supposed to feel happy and safe. The fact that this story ends on such a down note reads as an honest reflection on the nature of mental illness, even if it is perhaps narratively unsatisfying. Besides, I highly doubt this will be our last exploration of the Trench universe; we’ll just have to see where else Tyler and Josh take us when the album drops.

With the initial wave of promo singles out of the way, the marketing team has moved ahead with the business of actually selling the album. Trench is now available for pre-order on iTunes. The Twenty One Pilots webstore is now full of various bundle packages for pre-order that include t-shirts, hoodies, a dope bandana, a 10′’ vinyl EP with the three promo tracks, CD and cassette versions of the full album and (if you order before the end of the month) a neat little patch, all at pretty reasonable prices.

Other News and Shenanigans:

There isn’t too awful much to report outside of the mountain of major developments (thank God). Andrew Donoho posted some dope behind the scenes pics starring Clifford the Vulture. Josh is still occasionally tweeting and posting pictures of hanging out with Debby, his brother, and other cool people. Tyler is still quiet as ever, and I’m not sure why that shocks people. It bears repeating that he was rarely on social media pre-hiatus, that this is probably going to be a regular thing, and that stepping back from social media is honestly one of the better decisions one can make for your mental health and overall leisure time.

The only really notable thing that I missed during my vacation was Mark clarifying on Twitter that the Trench music videos have all been in chronological order and that he’s been happy to be giving Andrew Donoho creative control over how the videos have developed. With how cryptic things have been surrounding this album’s release, it’s refreshing to have a voice of reason to tell it like it is. Thanks Mark.

Chart Performance:

While the new song has been at the forefront of everyone’s mind, its predecessors have still been putting in work... but perhaps not as much as might have been expected based on the last album cycle’s success.

In spite of the release of the new music video two weeks back, “Nico and the Niners” slipped off the Hot 100 after its first week and has declined in all metrics. This week, “Jumpsuit” also fell off the Hot 100 and has also been steadily sinking in sales and streaming. There are plenty of reasonable explanations for this: the too-heavy-for-Top-40 rock sound, the constant stream of other TØP content drawing focus away from any one song, the lack of promotional appearances from the band itself on TV and radio.

Many hopeful fans have pointed to the performance of “Stressed Out” as a hopeful sign that “Jumpsuit” may mount a future comeback, but I have my doubts about that comparison. 2015 was a very different time for the band- “Stressed Out”, like “Fairly Local” and “Tear In My Heart”, debuted on the Hot 100 because the Clique was as ravenous then as it is now, but the band still had next-to-no mainstream recognition. Those songs thus debuted low and fell off pretty quickly. It wasn’t until months later that the Clique’s grassroots support and the band’s rising esteem within the industry resulted in “Stressed Out” getting picked up at radio and being shared with new audiences, creating a snowball of promotion that launched Twenty One Pilots into the popular consciousness. When “Heathens” was released, the band’s profile was big enough to ensure it debuted at #14 and remained in the Top 40 for months. Compared to that performance, “Jumpsuit” is flopping commercially, no question.

However, there is still a glimmer of hope for the song’s future. While it is falling off pretty hard in most categories, it is still gaining spins at radio. It took #1 on the Rock Airplay chart for this last week. That means that more casual music listeners are hearing it than ever, which could make for another snowball where these listeners go back and search for the song themselves in the weeks to come. We will have to wait and see how the band and Fueled By Ramen decide to market the song and promote the album as it gets closer to its release date.

One thing is for sure: the band is not in any financial trouble. Even if “Jumpsuit” never returns to the Hot 100, even if “Levitate” is rejected by both lovers and haters of hip-hop and fails to chart, even if Trench somehow fails to match the Week 1 chart-topping sales of Blurryface even after the band picked up millions of new fans over the last three years, two things remain true: Blurryface made them more money than any individual will ever reasonably need, and they’ve already sold tens of thousands of tickets for their next tour. The days of worrying about this band are over for the foreseeable future; for now, we can just enjoy the music.

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[ranya-smut-blog]

Married to Dr.Woods I

Anya was on her lunch break after the busy morning with multiple cases to solve, when she receives a text from her wife at home.

R: Don’t be mad…

A: what did you do?

R: well you know how you said we could get a pet?

A: you got something that requires more attention than a fish didn’t you-.-

R: but he is so cute and fluffy Ann! You’ll love him

A: what’s a he?

R: this golden retriever puppy, and he kinda liked one of your slippers…

A: he’s at home?!

R: yes want to see him?

A: might as well

R: I haven’t named him yet, I’m waiting for you to get home

A: alright fine we can keep him

R: I was going to keep him either way babe, see you tonight! I love you

A: I love you too

Anya chuckled at her wife’s cuteness, of course she was going to keep the animal if she would’ve said no but then again, the doctor wasn’t going to deny her wife’s wishes. She was thankful that Raven got her smiling because she hasn’t this entire day.

“What’s got you all smiley Anya? Wife sending pic after pic?” Clarke teased as she sat down next to her

“Of a puppy yes”

“You guys got a new puppy?!” the doctor asks excitingly. Anya swore she still acted like she did back in high school

“Apparently. Raven went to get him this morning”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know, she’s waiting for me get home tonight”

“Aww how cute, I should tell Lex that we should get a pet”

“I think Ava would love that idea”

“She totally would, she better not want a cat though because I hate cats”

“So do I. All they do is purr, meow, and leave hair everywhere”

“Agreed”

___

“Push 1 of Epi. Charge 300…Clear!”

Anya looked at the heart monitor desperately looking for a heartbeat. The green line stayed at flat. She tried once more but this time with a charge of 400. It still didn’t work, she pushed down on the patients chest continuously but still nothing. The patient was gone and left a room filled with nurses and Dr. Woods, along with the familiar long beep sound of the heart monitor.

“Time of death, 17:45” she announced then walked out of the room not being able to understand how the woman died when she was just fine after she got out of surgery.

“It’s okay Anya, deaths happen all the time here” Clarke told her

“I know but you know how I always try to not have that happen” she tells her

“Heard you lost a patient Dr. Woods, I can make you feel better if you’d like?” A tall man with also a white coat told the resident

“You see this? I am a happily married woman and I’d appreciate it if you stopped making efforts to get me in bed with you, Dr. ” Anya tells the attending while pointing to her marriage ring on her left hand

“It doesn’t hurt a man to try, plus with your body, who wouldn’t want to give it a try? Anyway, 50% of all marriage end up in divorce so when that happens call me” he winks

Anya was about to retaliate with a very rude response but Clarke swooped by just in time.

“Dr. Foss, they need you in oncology” she lies

“Oncology? I don’t remember having a patient with a tumor but oh well, I’ll go check. See you later Dr. Woods"

“Or not” she mumbled as he passed her

“You’re welcome” Clarke spoke up

“Thank you blondie, that’s like the fourth favor I owe you this week”

“I’ll tell you when I need some favors”

“Okay, how’s Lexa?”

“She’s good, she decided to stay home today with Ava. She wasn’t feeling well and I think she passed it to Ava, so now I’m trying my best to not get contaminated too” Clarke laughed

“I’d take an extra shift” Anya jokes

“For real, but no I miss my girls. Can’t wait for 8 then I’m heading home”

“Yeah me too, missing mine. Then I have a dog to name” she says before her pager goes off ordering her to go to the head of diagnostics

She excuses herself from Clarke then makes her way over to her boss. She’s let in into his office and he’s sitting there reading a patient file with a very serious look on his face.

“You paged sir?”

“Yes, please sit Anya”

“Do you see this?” The Doctor asked referring to the patient file in his hands

“Yes”

“This here is the file of our Governor and no one seems to be able figure out what’s wrong with him”

“Michael Anderson is sick?” Anya asked surprised, the man looked so healthy on t.v but then again, cameras had magic.

“Some think it’s a type of disease but they don’t really know which one”

“And I’m guessing you want me to figure out which one it is?” Anya asked

“Exactly! We all know you’re the best in DC, so I told them you’d be the one to figure this out once in for all”

“I’ll take the challenge but what about my patients?”

“I know you can balance it out Anya, and keep this on the low okay? We don’t need this getting out and having the public with questions and then the press filling the hospital. For all the public knows, he’s on vacation in the Bahamas”

“Yes sir, I’ll get on it right away. I see he’s arriving tomorrow?” The doctor says as he reads through the file

“That’s right, you’ll get started tomorrow. Thank you for accepting the case, you can go back to work”

Anya politely nods and exits out his office. She’s solved plenty of mystery cases before but none involving some very important government member. She started to worry like what if she couldn’t solve it? She’d let her governor down and that’s something she didn’t want to happen.

“Hey Clarke, finish filling out the charts for my patients please, I’m heading home”

“Are you okay? What happened in there?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, I need to rest. Big day tomorrow”

“Okay goodnight”

“Goodnight”

___

“Hey baby! You’re home” Raven greets her wife

“Yes at last” she breaths out and gives Raven a long kiss

It was interrupted though by tiny barking coming from the floor and it wouldn’t stop until Anya pulled away from her wife.

“I don’t think he likes me near you” Anya observes

Raven laughs, “He’s jealous” then picks him up

“So I was thinking Odie in the car”

“Odie Woods…I like it”

“I give the best names” the doctor says proudly

“Well you kinda are a genius”

“Just a tad, anyway I have this case tomorrow which I’m not supposed to be talking about but you’re my wife so I can. I’m going to try to figure out what our governor has”

“Michael Anderson is sick?!”

“Exactly my reaction but yes”

“Wow babe, good luck”

“Thanks but I’m going to head to bed early so I can be ready for tomorrow”

“Aww really? I was hoping to get some” Raven winks

Anya blushes, “Are you serious?”

“No” the brunette laughs

“Goofball”

“Always”

[keywestlou]

KEY WEST AND ANTARCTICA WEATHER

Happy National Margarita Day!

The weather changes fast in Key West.

I left the house at 6 last night. It was 82 degrees.

Took me longer to drive into town because it’s season. Traffic horrendous. Instead of 15 minutes, like 35.

I had driven directly to the Pier House. Got out of the car and could not believe how cold it was. Seventy one degrees. Eleven degree drop in less than an hour.

It was especially cold at the Pier House. The wind coming in off the Gulf felt freezing cold!

A cold wave came in from somewhere.

Today’s’ weather in the mid 70’s. Tonight will drop to 62. The weather people calculate chill factor for Key West. The 62 degrees will feel like 56.

Read an interesting weather piece on Antarctica this morning. Covered the time frame 2/4-2/13.

Antarctica is considered the coldest place on Earth. Not during the dates indicated. A heat wave hit!

NASA’s Earth Observatory receives images from the agency’s Landset 8 satellite.

Eagle Island is part of Antarctica. On 2/4, the satellite images showed plenty of snow coverage. On 2/13, the images showed bright blue melt ponds and exposed ground. A heat wave had liquefied 20 percent of Eagle Island’s seasonal snow accumulation in roughly a week.

Not unusual for there to be periods of heat resulting in melting. What is relatively new is that they are more frequent.

Referred to as global warming or climate change. Take your pick, or both.

Spent some time in the Chart Room last night. Packed. Mostly tourists. The only 2 people I knew were Tammy who was bartending and Sheila.

Tammy is venturing into a new experience. Radio. A talk show host.

Station 104.9 FM. Presently training. Thursday 5-7. Her 4 week training period ends next thursday. Following which her own show will be heard 7-9  thursday evenings.

Tammy is a natural charmer. Sincere. Her virtues will be obvious to the ear.

Go for it, Tammy!

The season is in full swing. Restaurants packed. I opted to avoid the situation. Drove home and fed myself.

It was this day in 1960. Harry Truman was no longer President. He and Bess wanted to vacation in Key West.

They were the guests of then Sheriff John and Mary Spottswood. The Sheriff later became a State Senator. He was a prominent figure in Key West’s development.

The Trumans stayed a the Spottswood home on the corner of Caroline and Simonton. Still stands today. A magnificent edifice. One of Key West’s finest appearing homes.

The Sheriff and his wife are long gone. His son Robert and wife Elena live in the home. Raised their family there.

Robert is one of the Sheriff’s several children. They all remained and continued their father’s community spirit.

I only know Robert and Elena. Great people! Involved in everything. On all kinds of boards. The Marriott Beachside is a Spottswood investment overseered by Robert.

Dentistry different and cheaper in May Johnson’s time in 1896.

On this day, she returned to the dentist. “He finished up my teeth with two gold and two silver, $4.50 – reasonable.”

Coronavirus is developing into an epidemic of world wide proportions. China the worst hit. Of course, the virus first struck there.

China is using robots and drones as part of engaging the virus. Especially, robots.

The robots are being used to to spray disinfectants on the ground. Also in places where the virus has already existed: Ambulances that carried sick or victims who died, hospital rooms, etc.

Anyplace where the virus or disinfectant might be harmful to non-infected humans.

The robots are relatively tiny. Pics remind me of a large turtle. Each carries 21 gallons of disinfectant.

Most believe Russia interfered in the 20126 Presidential election. Trump refuses to accept the premises because he wants no one to believe he was not “validly” elected. Embarrassing enough Hillary beat him by almost 3 million in the popular vote count.

The 2020 election is less than 8 months away. Intelligence experts that Trump keeps firing believe Russia interfered then and is now.

It appears the U.S. has done relatively little, if anything, to combat Russia’s hacking for the 2020 election. Note also that it is anticipated China and Pakistan will also be involved.

While the U.S. sits on its ass!

The strongest nation in the world is unable to protect its voting process!

Enjoy your day!

              KEY WEST AND ANTARCTICA WEATHER was originally published on Key West Lou

[jinxedncharmed]

Life continues to go suspiciously well for me. I say suspiciously, because I am always suspicious when things are going well, because I expect at any moment for things to go to shit. Things have been difficult for so long, but I continue to feel pretty damn good these days.

   Work is meh. Boring. Not much going on. But I enjoy MC's company, and I like talking to M and Queen. I help MC with his work, because I'm a chump. I read, play games, find things to do (aka, spend money). Apply for other jobs, lol. No luck yet, but there are ads out there. I know January and February are the big months for hiring, and with this being the holiday season I'm not totally surprised I'm getting no nibbles, but I'm still a bit discouraged. At least I'm employed, for now, and hopefully will continue to be until I choose to switch to a new place.

M was giving me a bit of grief about it yesterday. "Are you sure you can go?" she pushed, a bit snottily.

"What? Are we talking about MC?"

"No."

"Well then what the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, well, I guess it is MC."

I was nonplussed. "Yes. It will hurt, but I'm not delusional."

And I'm not. I feel like I spend less time dwelling on him and fantasizing. Not totally eliminating the fantasizing, yet, but working on it. I do enjoy making him laugh though. This week has been pretty chill and we've had fun, and I got some big, genuine laughs out of him a couple of times. Makes me laugh, too. Once he referred to me as "Miss Thompson," I can't remember what we were prattling on about, and I absently corrected him, "It's Admiral Thompson." A very old joke from an old friend I don't see anymore, and something I haven't thought about in years. Got a big laugh out of him, though, I think because it was so unexpected and I said it so confidently.

Our idiot Big Boss made us pick what Thanksgiving dish we were, and explain why we were that dish. MC suggested I be the salt shaker. I ran with it, but Big Boss didn't find it funny. MC sure did. "I didn't mean for you to actually say that," he admonished. "You could've also gone with the cranberry sauce, being all sour and everything."

He knows me like no one else. Because he knows I'm all bark and no bite, and I'm all gooey and sensitive inside. And I don't mind him knowing, for some reason.

Another time he gave me an email list to contact, and one of the people on there was incorrect. I was at first very upset about contacting the wrong person, then I got over it. We kept talking about the email, then I read to him the person's response, and he started getting upset about it.

"Wow," he said, "that is kind of awful. She didn't win the scholarship, then she gets this email calling her a previous winner, now she's assuming she's getting money, and then she really doesn't...." He looked genuinely distressed. "I probably ruined her whole day."

"So what are you going to do now, Brain?" I deadpanned, which snapped him out of it. I've learned we can't both have the same emotion on something. One of us has to be upset, the other a cool cucumber. But we can switch moods as the day goes on, or the hour, or the conversation. It's a nice flow.

I saw my psychiatrist on Monday and she was very pleased with how well I've been doing, especially that I took a "spontaneous" vacation with little planning. "That is so important for your anxiety," she kept saying, which is weird because I rarely think of my anxiety or of myself as an anxious person. Peru, though, will definitely require more planning. Now my psychiatrist just admonishes me about human contact: "We just need to get you a partner now," she keeps saying. "You cannot keep isolating yourself from other people. You must make friends."

Blegh. Human contact. Relationships. That shit is hard.

I'm sure by now everyone knows that fucking Amazon is coming here. God knows what it'll do to my rent. This silly "National Landing" thing is literally three blocks from my apartment complex, and apparently there's going to be a massive Virginia Tech campus built almost directly across from me. Where are all these people going to live? Where am I going to live? How much worse can the traffic get? Sheesh. I don't want to leave the area. We'll just have to see what happens.

I don't think I'll be doing anything fun this weekend, as I am broke. I spent too much last week. I'm budgeting for Peru, and I set myself a limit, which I just barely went under last month, so I need to do better. Hopefully for my birthday I'll be getting money, which I can then spend on Christmas gifts for my Sis and her family. So this weekend might just be a stay-at-home, clean, read, color, get drunk and watch movies weekend.

Which is just as well. Next week is Thanksgiving. I'll be driving to Sis's on Thursday, then returning Saturday. That's plenty of time with family, trust me. I do look forward to being with Niece, though. Sis sends me videos and pics of her, and she's so adorable. She sent me an amazing pic of her coloring with this big fat grin on her face. She's just the best. And now she likes to play and do things, so I'm anticipating spending a lot of time in the floor with her, doing whatever she feels like. It'll be fun.

So things are good. I'm working out on the treadmill in the evenings, and counting my calories. I've been maintaining my weight but now I'm starting to see it dip, so I'm pleased. I'm studying Spanish via Duolingo and Pimsleur, so that I am not a total idiot for Peru, and I am planning and budgeting for the trip (even though it's so far away! I'm excited though). In the nearer future, I've got a lot to look forward to, event-wise; I've got tickets to a pair of interesting lectures in the Profs and Pints series; I'm seeing Craig Ferguson in December with my coworker B, which will be great; and I've got tickets to both Muse and Massive Attack in the spring. Plus books coming out ("KINGDOM OF COPPER" BITCHES DAAAARAAAAA), the ice rink opens this weekend, some new museum exhibits are coming up, lots to do. I just need to watch my damn budget, though.

It's so nice to feel good and energetic again. I've missed this so much. It's been a long, long time since I've felt this good. I hope it continues!

[atticusblog2016-blog]

New Post has been published on Atticusblog

New Post has been published on https://atticusblog.com/three-tips-for-avoiding-burn-out/

Three Tips For Avoiding Burn-Out

There were plenty of things incorrect with working practices within the beyond

If you watched Mad Men, for example, which is about in the workplaces of Madison Avenue’s advertising groups within the Sixties, you’ll have observed most of the employees divide their time quite lightly between making sexist remarks, having affairs and drinking at their desk.

One thing they sincerely got right in the one’s days, however, became that the running day ended while you left the office. Instead of smartphones, there had been rotary dial telephones that you didn’t experience pressured to look at every little while, not least due to the fact they appeared a long way too stressful to surely use.

It’s getting harder to step far away from the workplace nowadays, with human beings working longer hours and the unstated expectation which you’ll answer emails at any time. Personal trainer Lawrence Price (fafitsake.Com) is aware of the needs of today’s always-on subculture as well as everybody, due to the fact in addition to schooling clients for eight hours a day he has to hold a social media presence in any respect hours as a part of his professional life.

To spotlight the importance of taking a mental destroy from the net, Price these days took component in a 24-hour social media blackout as a part of a Bupa campaign, a revel in he says he loved.

“It turned into incredible – extraordinarily releasing. It allowed me to examine existence via my very own immediately enjoy rather than through a telephone screen. That results in a mental readability, without the middle which could build up in case you spend every day with your head buried in a phone screen looking at all the records out there.”

Three Necessary Steps in Preventative Dentistry

Some human beings love the clean feeling that comes after an expert tooth cleaning, whilst many others dread having a dentist shove steel gear into their mouth. The truth of the matter is that ignoring oral care cannot only cause discomfort, bleeding, and possible teeth loss, however it may additionally result in extreme infections or sicknesses. Oral issues, whilst serious, may be very high-priced. So to avoid troubles, right here are some preventative dentistry pointers to help you avoid a few severe unpleasantness down the road.

Regular Brushing and Care

Many people view the act of brushing their tooth as repetitive and mundane, but it’s far the maximum vital the first step can take to preserve right oral hygiene. Many docs propose brushing for two mins to kill all germs and bacteria. Use this time to reach all areas of the mouth further to the tops and fronts of enamel. This consists of cleaning the roof of the mouth, the gums, and the tongue.

One technique for children or human beings who’ve problem reaching all areas of the mouth is an electric powered spinning toothbrush. These brushes can penetrate hard to reach regions quick and punctiliously. Mouthwash is likewise awesome for rinsing some tough to attain areas, but in no way have to mouthwash update the act of brushing.

Flossing

Flossing is and will usually be essential. Though the American Academy of Periodontology has stated inside the beyond yr that people do not need to floss every day, it is nonetheless a primary a part of ensuring oral care. Flossing eliminates plaque which could construct over the years, keeps gums healthful, and stops infection and irritation.

Traditional floss is usually reliable, however, new plastic floss picks could make the job less difficult, and greater portable. It may appear formidable to floss each day. However, once flossing is recurring like brushing, then it can end up every other easy step in preventative dentistry that could improve one’s dental hygiene.

Going to the Dentist

Ultimately, touring the dentist for normal care is the most important way to preserve dental fitness. Many ailments and sicknesses can only be detected while journeying a dentist. Regular visits now not simplest permit a professional to hold an eye fixed on any developing issues but also can store cash ultimately.

Free Online Dating: Tips and Advice

Are you an actual “amateur” to the arena of unfastened online dating? Do you locate on-line dating foreign? Fret no longer, dear readers. Here are some on-line relationship recommendations to assist you in enjoying the revel in.

Your Username

Let’s start at the beginning. It’s extremely good to choose a username that makes you stand out. Just remember, though, there’s a massive distinction between being very clever and being so difficult to understand your username is going proper over the heads of capacity partners.tips procedure.

If someone is already using your first choice for a name, just permit it to cross. Obviously, it wasn’t that smart after all. Avoid the use of provocative pen names. Not everybody has a sense of humor in relation to online dating, especially in case you are hoping to discover a long-time period relationship.

Your Profile

A profile that is carefully composed is important to a successful online courting experience. The profile place is your space to offer not best your biographical facts but additionally other unique private facts, pics of yourself and some information about what you’re seeking in terms of a date and/or potential mate. Don’t stress it although, due to the fact whilst you simplest get one risk to make a very good first impression on a date, you get as many chances as you want in your free online relationship profile. Get together with a friend or two when you’re prepared to build your profile. They can assist in choosing the quality pix.

Your Photographs

All your pix ought to be below seven months old until especially targeted otherwise. Your principal image should be a headshot. People have to be capable of see your eyes. In reality, there are free on-line courting websites as a way to drop your image posting privileges in case your major photograph does not show your eyes.

You should also consist of at the least one full frame shot too. This manner, whilst you do rating a primary date, there will no concern approximately how “one of a kind” you appearance in character. Don’t publish too many images that encompass different folks who would possibly conceal the real you or confuse others as to your dating reputation both.

Keep all of your profile photos up to date. Include supplemental pictures of you enjoying your favored activity or perhaps snapshots from recent vacations. They can give you something to talk approximately.

Your Headline

Your headline have to make a statement approximately you or perhaps answer a simple question like: “What qualities am I seeking out in a person/woman?” Again although, don’t be so smart; you could lose your “reader”.

Your Description

Your description must consciousness on three separate sections. The first concerns who you clearly are and some of the different things you enjoy doing. The 2nd might be extra approximately your non-public conductor just about anything uncommon or unique that makes you stand proud of the group. The third one ought to discuss your cutting-edge sports, books you have got read and films you’ve got seen currently.

Additional Tips

Finally, attempt to be short. Share, however, be careful you don’t share an excessive amount of. Find a secure center floor between allowing them to recognize something about you and eliminating all the mystery. Use spell test, too. You do not need a profile that appears thrown collectively.

Tips For Avoiding The Onset Of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)

Most of the time, you definitely can’t break out the winter blues

This is especially real if going to a sunny, warm area is not possible for you. In such instances, you will don’t have any preference but to live and locate methods to address the present day bloodless, gloomy weather conditions.

In case the outcomes of the gloomy weather are nonetheless attending to you and another word for avoiding.

d your despair is getting worse, it is able to be time if you want to see a therapist and discover in case you are stricken by Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD. This is a shape of downheartedness that occurs when you increase symptoms of despair all through the darker and cold wintry weather months each year. Because this is universal throughout wintry weather, it’s also referred to as the iciness blues and wintry weather despair.avoiding people.

The good news is that this is a situation which can without difficulty beat by way of following certain suggestions and strategies. These encompass the subsequent:

Change your food plan for this season

The food you devour and don’t consume can play an important position in uplifting your temper for the duration of the cold season. As lots as feasible, drink lukewarm water and reduce or keep away from consuming bloodless water with ice. Also, add heat spices including cayenne, black pepper, garlic, ginger, and horseradish to the dishes you prepare dinner. You also can boom vegetable temperatures via stir frying them in a wok or by using lightly steaming them.

Paint your walls with a brighter coloration. The color of your property can assist significantly in alleviating your temper. According to experts, the quality alternatives to going for consist of yellow, orange, crimson, and copper tones. These colors can cheer up the dimmest of moods and produce warm temperature into your life even when the sky is gray and the dim earth tones are all round.

Invest in some new light bulbs

The brighter your own home and rooms are, the better your temper may be throughout wintry weather. You can get complete spectrum bulbs and use them for the duration of the season. You can also bear in mind getting a SAD light or light therapy lamp due to the fact they may be designed to offer feelings of calmness and peace.avoiding conflict.

Enjoy aromatherapy. Essential oils and aromatherapies can help with SAD considering the fact that they goal a part of the brain that is liable for mood manage, sleep, and starvation. Light scented candles or use the right tool and oils that soothe you for this.

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Melco's Billionaire Ho Sees Macau Gaming Returning to Peak

Macau, the arena’s largest gaming middle, will go back to its top in the next 5 years, stated Melco Motels & Enjoyment Ltd.’s billionaire Chairman Lawrence Ho.

Ho, who’s also vying for an online casino license in Japan, is “extremely bullish” on Macau, he said in an interview on Bloomberg Television with Haslinda Amin.

“Clearly in the subsequent 5 years, it’ll grow lower back to the $forty-five billion gaming marketplace,” said Ho, who also serves as chief govt officer. “And that’s just the gaming by myself, due to the fact the non-gaming element is significant.”

Ho’s projection is one of the most upbeat for Macau’s gaming industry, which reached its maximum annual height in 2013. The enterprise then struggled as high-stakes games stayed far away from China’s sole gaming hub amid Beijing’s corruption crackdown. The enterprise’s recuperation is now gaining traction, with gaming receipts in April rising for a ninth consecutive month.

Macau’s April online casino receipts rose 16.three percentage to 20.2 billion patacas ($2.52 billion)

Beating the median analysts’ estimate of a 15 percentage rise. April’s gain was the 1/3 consecutive month of double-digit growth for the enterprise. Casinos such as Melco and Las Vegas Sands Corp. Have shifted focus to attract casual gamblers and families, whilst excessive rollers have also returned to the tables in current months.

Ho’s $forty-five billion projection for the industry is a “manageable goal for Macau,” stated analyst Furnish Govertsen of Union Gaming Organization LLC. The healing’s sustainability will hinge on persevered, robust increase within the mass market phase that draws casual gamblers.

That sort of growth would imply around 10 percent common annual increase, which feels realistic at this factor,” said Govertsen. “The coolest information for Macau is that the authorities have anointed mass market as the destiny of Macau, and we might assume as a minimum a few stage of guide going ahead to make certain mass remains the direction Macau is headed.”

The performance of Macau’s casino stocks replicates the optimism. Bloomberg Intelligence’s index of Macau gaming stocks has expanded 22 percentage this yr, compared with the 12 percent gain in the benchmark Grasp Seng Index. stocks of recent-York indexed Melco have jumped forty-one percentage this 12 months, at the same time as the Nasdaq Composite has won thirteen percentage.

The Billionaire’s Grandson

The big headline splashed across the Jacksonville everyday News study: Billionaire Malcolm Fuller house III Dies. The rich person who contributed to The united states’ growing wealth because the end of the Melancholy had died due to natural causes old age and a weak coronary heart. As a reply of truth, when each of his family contributors had been referred to as about his demise, none have been surprised.

Fuller house did not have a big family like so a lot of his wealthy friends; he had simply two kids, their spouses, and four grandchildren. Malcolm taught his youngsters, John Keller house and Sally Fuller house Thompson, essential ideas approximately main modest, moral lives that made them sincere, upright humans. In turn, John and Sally raised and taught their two children the same ethical instructions. However, there may be usually one relative who turned into born ways away from the apple tree. Some of the four grandchildren, 30-12 months-old William, John’s more youthful son, lived a reckless life

William spent plenty of money on vehicles, tablets

And women, he begged his mother and father for greater and extra cash. However, they gave him not anything. William ended up in jail more than numerous times. whilst William heard approximately his grandfather’s dying, he had a good time because he knew he could inherit lots of money.

His circle of relatives was known as to a local lawyer’s workplace for the deceased billionaire’s will to be studied. He had specified in his will that his grandchildren would inherit his fortune.

To each of my four grandchildren, Julian, Patsy, Lewis and William, I depart five hundred million bucks.

After the whole will became read through the attorney’s office, the grandchildren were told that their money might be at once deposited into trusts. However, William changed into informed his cash might come to be to be had later. “What?! I can’t have my money now like the others??!!” he asked. “I want my cash now!!”

The legal professional scowled. He picked up several documents and appeared thru them. The deceased multi-millionaire had blanketed and determined one categorized, Unique Commands for William. The document specifically stated that William would have to watch for three months and he could get hold of his part of the accept as true with then. But, the legal professional had been instructed no longer to examine the relaxation to William till the three months had ended.

William was furious. He cussed at the attorney and his family, then stormed out of the workplace.

3 months later, the legal professional called William and gave him facts about his inheritance

Your grandfather wishes you to Las Vegas, Nevada to a place referred to as The cash Picker, wherein he would receive 5 hundred million dollars in cash. William turned into so excited that once he stopped speaking to the lawyer, he called the airlines to make a reservation for Las Vegas.

After he flew to Las Vegas, he hailed a taxi and instructed the driver to take him to a place referred to as, The cash Picker. The taxi driver asked him why he was going there. William distrusted him and lied, saying he become there to gamble. The cabbie with a NY accent stated, “That’s a closely guarded place… Gots lots cash! You will adore it in case you need a lotta money!”

William didn’t say something as he felt greed hit an all-time excessive. numerous miles later, the taxi stopped in front of the money Picker. After paying the cabbie, William examined the building which gave the impression of a fort. He stepped up to the vault-like door and knocked. An intercom became on and a deep voice said, “Who is it?”

The Lack of Macau Gay Bars Doesn’t Mean You Can’t Enjoy Your Holiday

The Chinese language town of Macau is a popular holiday destination, however, there is one big trouble for gay vacationers – there are not any gay venues. But, if you are planning an experience away then don’t be do away with this vacation spot just yet.

in case you are seeking out gay nightlife then Macau might not be the exceptional vacation destination for you. Even as there was once a gay established order in the beyond, it became subsequently close down. A few of the locals frown upon homosexuality, but this does not mean that there are not any alternatives for a superb night time out.

When it comes to a great homosexual presence

You’ll be higher off traveling to Hong Kong wherein there are some of bars and clubs catering to the gay community. In Macau itself there are nevertheless a number of bars and clubs which you can revel in alongside each homosexual and straight site visitors.

In relation to those locations that welcome gay clients, it can pay to realize where you’re going, mainly to locate the one’s bars and golf equipment that are not marketed. However, if this is not viable then you may still enjoy tons of what the numerous Chinese language culture has to offer.

Because it stands, there isn’t a massive demand for Macau homosexual bars and golf equipment. Until future homosexual bars begin to open, you can need to assume carefully about your alternatives When it comes to planning your vacation. if you understand what you need to count on then you can avoid disappointment when you arrive.

Types of Online Games for Gaming Fun

Believe it or not, online gaming is the biggest component nowadays. Capitalizing in this huge marketplace, app developers are constantly launching new games with the high-quality pics and exceptionally enticing gameplay. now not just that, they layout and create them in various codecs to cater to a various target market.

Now in case, you’re a diehard fan of on-line video games, here is a lowdown on the one-of-a-kind genres; something you really want to recognize.

1. Massively Multiplayer online Function Gambling games (MMORPG)

Gaming definitely noticed a spurt whilst it became social with the introduction of Large Multiplayer online Role Gambling games (Mo). The fun and adventure lie in competing with other players, Playing concurrently in the virtual international. They’re referred to as Function Gambling video games because you are taking up roles as you circulate via the game. Maximum of those are not loose; you need to pay to get entry to certain top class capabilities or to degree up.

2. Actual time strategy

Because the name suggests, Actual time strategy games call for a direct response from the gamers; it’s miles performed in Real time. They combine method and movement and can be pretty addictive. Actual time strategy includes constructing the inventory via collecting sources, combating armies, constructing a base, developing devices and exploring areas.

3. action and adventure 

They are set against a story in fantasy worlds or journey lands. They may be fast-paced and contain combats with enemies, puzzles, missions and quests. Finishing successive missions bring about the man or woman leveling up and incomes armor, weaponry, potions and many others. Unlike Mom and Real-time approach codecs, these are generally single-participant ones.

4. Casino games – Online casino video games mirror the Real international of the casinos on the sector Wide Internet. Many of those are performed with Real coins. It offers the exhilaration of Playing in an Online casino. There also are Real bonuses and prizes to be received.

Originally posted 2016-08-28 03:40:27.