#i spent like 20 minutes pouring over my documents like... which lines...

[salstray]

WIP Game ✍️

Rules: make a new post and share 1-2 sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context – Let your followers guess!

thank you @esorydoolb for the tag~ I love stuff like this!

both of these are recent things i started for my OC Cobalt! Because I'm insane about him <3

-

“If either of those Keepers find you in here or just not in your room, they’re gonna kick us out!” “They gotta find me first, don’t they?”

I heard two people gasp and every other hand vanished from the planchette, followed closely by my own. “Phone, phone, where is my phone-” Ellie’s muttering cut off into a yelp of fear as something in front of us moved through the pitch blackness and a loud clatter echoed from some distant corner of the room.

literally no pressure ever from me besties, prommy, but...

gamers? @captains-price @floralpascal ?

[eclipsedpascal]

Lavender Bruises

Older!Duncan x Female reader

A meeting with you and your father’s company’s buyers, leads to the shocking realisation that you had unknowingly slept with it’s new owner, Duncan Shepherd, just the night before. You needed to hide this sinful secret from your father, which left you stuck between wanting to make him proud and the unsatisfied craving you couldn’t ignore for Duncan to claim you as his personal toy. But you could manage both. Right?

Warnings: mentions of work (ew), alcohol, one night stands, large age gap, daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, public sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), intercourse, spit kink, slapping, spanking, hickeys, bruising, degrading/teasing, mouth fucking with fingers? is that a thing?, hair pulling and a ring kink ig:)

Notes: I've been writing this for fkn MONTHS now bcs I kept loosing inspiration, so this is actually the first thing I ever properly wrote! it's kinda complicated ig? idk like the parts in bold are a time skip to the night before and the fic goes in-between the meeting the reader is at and the previous night, meaning there’s two separate smut scenes so!!! but yeah i'm a whore lmao. Also ik hickeys don’t show up the same on certain skin tones and i’m sorry for that. i tried my best to be as inclusive as possible nd didn’t mention anything to do with the skin tone. Also!! if you're interested, I was listening to Cherry lips by garbage most the time I was writing this nd I feel like it fits it pretty well😌

Word count: 8.4k

●●●●●●●●

Going over the logistics of a content deal with the conglomerate that had recently bought your fathers newspaper wasn't the most preferable way for you to spend your lunch, but unfortunately it was necessary.

You know how these “lunches” go; business meetings disguised as casual discussions. They’re exactly the same if taken place in a conference room. Disagreeing and having to come to compromises you’d rather not, with the only differences being there's more chatter and cluttered noise of dinnerware coming from the restaurant around you.

You much preferred being in the office for these kind of things, but it was at the request of the new owners that you meet here, meaning you didn’t really have choice.

As you arrived at the restaurant you saw your father inside, waiting for your arrival just past the main entrances oversized, glass doors. You were almost 10 minutes late now and you knew he would be pissed. Honestly, you couldn't blame him.

Having to rush through a traffic riddled DC to get home at 10 in the morning because you had spent the previous night in a strangers hotel bed wasn't your proudest moment. Was it worth it? Yes, but it didn’t exactly leave you with much time to prepare for the lunch only two hours later.

You payed the driver and stepped out of the cab onto the drowning, wet sidewalk, desperately trying to shield yourself from the relentless rain that had been pouring down on the city all morning.

Looking up at the grand building on front of you, you could tell the place was going to be expensive. The entrances steps were 12ft wide and made of a pearly white marble that was now soaked with cascading rain water, making them even harder for you to run up in your heels as you tried escape the cold.

“Y/N, where have you been? You're 10 minutes late and these people don't like to be kept waiting." The people your father was referring to? the owners of Gardner Analytics. they had bought what seemed like hundreds of press company's over the past few years, especially those in the DC area. Their most recent purchase being the Washington herald, of which your father was the Editor-in-chief. You had been working there for a few months as your fathers assistant and helping out at these meetings had become routine.

“I'm so so sorry, my alarm didn't wake me and I-“

"It's fine" He interrupted "It's fine, just please tell me you have the documents I asked you to bring?" You could tell he was stressed out from the way his voice was wavering and how often he was stumbling over his words, so instead of trying to explain yourself any further you stayed quiet and did your best to take in as much of the information he was relaying onto you as you possibly could.

As he led you through the dinning room he explained to you who else was there, telling you that the others from the herald who were attending the lunch had already began talks with Gardener Analytics at the table ten minutes prior.

The closer you got to the table the more your fathers voice faltered, trying to round off the conversation so he could properly introduce himself when the time came. "Now Bill Shepherd had to cancel last minute, said it was something to do with his health unfortunately. But not to worry! I've spoken with him over the phone and he's informed me his nephew is filling in for him, okay?”

Before you even had a chance to reply he turned from you, reaching over the table to shake hands with a man you recognised as Seth Grayson; their director of communications, and an older woman who you assumed was Annette Shepherd. She and her brother Bill were the owner's of Gardner Analytics and your father had said it was important he got on their good side.

As your father greeted the others, you began retrieving the documents out of your bag, knowing they would be needed by Seth right away.

"..So sorry for the delay Mr Shepherd, you know how DC traffic can be" Your father chuckled slightly as he shook the man’s hand, making some light small talk. Mr Shepherd? that must be bill’s nephew, you thought.

You felt even more unprepared now; you didn’t even know the man’s name.

"This is my daughter and assistant, Y/N" Upon hearing your father introduce you to the mystery Shepherd, you slotted the documents under one arm and reached out to shake his hand with your other.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Shepherd" But as you shifted your gaze up to his own, you realised that there was no need for introductions.

He smiled gently, a kind of smug delight obvious in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking you all in. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/L/N"

He released your hand from his grasp, moving to clasp his own behind his back. “But please, call me Duncan.”

Duncan fucking Shepherd. how could you be so oblivious? The two of you had spent hours together last night. How hadn't you figured out who he was? As panic ripped through you like a wildfire, you wondered if Duncan was feeling the same way; but from the look on his face, he was enjoying this.

●●●●●●●●

11:34pm previous night

It was getting pretty late now, and meeting someone who could fuck the stress out of you was becoming less and less likely by the minute. so deciding to finish your drink and leave, you took in the room one last time; making sure you hadn’t missed anyone interesting.

The fluorescent red and blue lighting of the expensive hotel bar was just bright enough for you to spot an older man you hadn’t noticed before. He must have been at least 40. He was sat in a booth with five or six others, all drinking, laughing and joking, yet he was staring at you.

Taking the seat next to you, he called out to the bartender. “Bourbon. Neat.”

You'd been waiting for him to come over ever since you saw him. It had been 20 minutes or so of quick glances and smiles to each other before the group of men he had been with dissipated. You had heard one of the men he was with refer to him as ‘Duncan’ when he had said his goodbyes, but other than that all you could assume about the man was that he was rich; judging by the all black LV suit he was wearing.

"Can I buy you a drink?” Turning to face at him when you heard him speak, you were practically stupefied by how attractive he was. His hair was full of shiny grey streaks that aged him. His stubble complimented his cheekbones perfectly and the speckles of grey throughout it helped bring out the brightness of his piercing blue eyes. His lips were full, and you couldn't help but notice how soft they looked.

“Vodka and coke” You smiled, trying your best to be confidant, but they way he was looking at you was giving you butterfly's you couldn’t swat away.

“I.D?” The bartender asked. You grabbed it out of your purse, proving your age to the bartender before watching him walk away to make your drink.

There was a brief silence before the man spoke again. “I hope my staring didn’t bother you, I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.” His flattery almost made you blush, but he wasn’t going to get you with a line that bad.

“Didn’t bother me at all, though i’m sure your friends there must have been envious” You chose to ignore his cheesy line, knowing that as much as you wanted him to take you there and then, you would much prefer making him work for it.

He chuckled slightly, knowing the game you had chosen to play. he looked away from you and down into his glass before taking a swig of the golden-brown liquor that occupied it. “Well I’m known to be quite a busy man, so I’m sure they understood.” He turned to face you slightly, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“Busy enough of a man to be drinking on a Tuesday night?” You questioned him teasingly, Ignoring that you yourself had the most important meeting of your young career in just over twelve hours.

“Is that really such a surprise? Most times being so busy is the main reason for drinking” He joked with you as he flirted, making it hard for you to keep eye contact without going red at the thought of such a beautiful man seeking your attention.

Duncan could see how nervous you were under the confident demeanour you had put on, I mean you were practically screaming it out to him at this point. The way you were fidgeting with the chain of your silver earring as you leaned against the bar and the fact you couldn’t even look at him for longer than 3 seconds without blushing was evidence enough for him.

“Well, that’s true.” You giggled a little as you spoke in your anxious state.

Taking a hold of your drink, you wrapped your lips around the paper straw and moved your gaze over to the bartender who was now serving someone a few seats down, attempting to distract and ground yourself from the situation at hand.

You were gripped back into reality quickly when you heard him speak again.

“There’s no need to be so nervous, I’m not going to eat you.” You found his use of the phrase quite ironic, being that’s exactly how it seemed. His eyes were piercing into you in an almost questioning manner, but when he gazed over your body, taking in your satin, black slip dress covered curves, the swipe of his tongue against his plump bottom lip gave you a very different impression; an impression he wanted to devour you. It was as if he thought you were that sweet snack he had been craving all week.

“No? That's a shame” You faked a frown, pouting as you moved to rest your chin on your hand.

“Well I think we should at least be aware of each others names before making such wild propositions, don’t you…?” His smirk never seemed to leave his face as he spoke.

He was good at this game, better than you at least. Of course It was obvious he was going to have had more experience with his age and all, but the way he was charming you so easily with just plain old conversation and confidence was getting harder and harder to match.

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You batted your eyelashes at him a little, for some reason feeling smaller upon revealing your name to him. You felt as if you had lost the upper hand in the conversation suddenly.

“Hm, Y/N. That’s beautiful.” You rolled your eyes. Of course it is. Thats what they all say. You thought.

“Aren't you going to ask mine?” His ego now showing, you decided to make a bolder move.

“You rather fancy yourself, don’t you, Duncan?”

He finished his drink and moved closer to you. “Oh, so you already know my name?”

He was close enough to you now that you could make out the many beauty marks which decorated his cheekbones and hear the rasp of his voice even better than before. It was thick as honey and just as sweet too.

“I heard your friend call you it.” You quickly replied.

He scoffed a little, finding amusement in what he was about to say. He brought his face down closer to yours and began to run his fingers through your hair. “Hm, well he’s an old friend sweetheart. Most people would call me Mr Shepherd.”

You felt yourself grow hot, Duncans words casting a haze of complete lust over your mind.

You did your best to stay confidant, doing everything you could to ensure you didn't loose this game the two of you were playing. “Really? Is that what you like? Mr Shepherd.”

Your faces were so close to each others now that you could smell the bourbon on his breath when he let out a loud chuckle. His pearly whites showing as he did so. You even felt him graze his stubble against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” He ran his finger over your lips as he spoke slowly. "So tell me, what is it that does it for you Y/N? Hm? I mean a girl your age doesn’t decide to stare at a man like me all night just for the hell of it. So what is it? The power? The money? Or is it the age gap so big I could be your father?”

You squeeze your legs together as his sentence finishes, letting out a hushed whimper. Of course you were attracted to older men, that was obvious, but hearing him say it out loud in public whilst being so close to you turned you on even more than you thought previously possible.

He chuckled a little, “So it’s the age then, is it sweetheart? The idea of having a man more.. experienced pleasure you, instead of a man who would leave you to fend for yourself after finishing in less than five minutes. You want someone who can make you cum so hard you’d be begging him to make it stop, don’t you?” Every move Duncan made, every word he spoke was calculated, and it was all in pursuit of teasing you just because he knew he could.

You made a mental note of his nickname for you as you looked up at him. You felt his fingers run across your cheek and then push some stray hairs back behind your ear as you desperately tried to think of something smart to say, anything to say; but he had won. He knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. You didn’t even care anymore. You were more than ready to give what little of a resolve you still had up to him.

He whispered to you as he moved his spare hand up the small of your back. “Now little one, I have the presidential suite of this hotel under my name tonight. So what do you say we go on up? Since now we're just so well aquatinted."

●●●●●●●●

Having to take part in a meeting with your father and the man double your age that you had fucked for hours the night before was NOT what you had planned for today.

“Mr Shepherd, I apologise that I didn’t make it here on time. I had a pretty hectic morning.” You did your best to keep your chill in your now shocked state, but with everyone watching the two of you it wasn’t easy.

“No don’t worry, I know how DC traffic can be, especially in this weather. As long as you're here now.” A wide smile was planted on his face as he spoke. The same as last night. He never broke eye contact with you, and you found yourself wondering how he could do it so easily.

“Please, sit.” He gestured you over to take a seat as he pulled out the chair next to his own. You thanked him politely and sat down, your mind racing and spiralling out of control at the thought of your father discovering the sinful deeds you and his new boss had taken part in just hours prior.

You felt him tuck you into the table before sitting down next to you. You could hear the voices of the restaurant that surrounded you and the others at the table coming at you. Every noise was muffled, as if your head was suddenly underwater.

“Y/N?” You were quickly brought back to reality when you heard Seth question you.

“From my understating you have the merger documents in your belonging, yes?” He looked at your father for reassurance this was definitely case as he spoke. So with everyone at the table’s eyes on you, you slid the documents over to him.

“Yes! And uhm the specifications for the more politically based content changes are detailed on page 25. I was told that was of high interest today?” You got yourself back on track, trying to stay as professional as possible whilst ignoring Duncan and the predicament you had found yourself in.

“We were briefly discussing the more major changes before you arrived Mr Y/L/N, but I believe you’ve already been made aware of most them?” Duncan addressed your father, kicking the meeting off. But you couldn’t concentrate. You were listening to the conversation, you really were! It was just that you were so wrapped up in Duncan’s voice you couldn’t actually understand what the fuck they were all talking about.

Seeing him so invested in the crucial conversation he was having with your father and the many other associates at the table was just doing something to you.

Observing the way his hands were moving when he spoke, you noticed how he would often clasp them together when he was explaining things, and how he would tilt his head slightly as he listened. His bronzed curls were combed to perfection, resting delicately on the right side of his face and when he licked his bottom lip, it sent a shiver down through your spine all the way to your cunt. You were entirely captivated by him.

Hearing your Father ask for your opinion on the subject being discussed, you shook off the spell Duncan’s attractiveness had casted onto you and responded, giving your perspective on the subject.

Duncan relaxed into his seat a little more as he watched you talking. He knew you had been staring at him, but it was cute, he thought. Almost endearing seeing you get so flustered at just the sight of him. He had seen you squirming around in your seat whilst you watched him and decided the accidental teasing wasn’t enough; he wanted to toy with you more. As much as he possibly could.

“You know, if you’re trying hide what’s happened between us then you might consider making your staring a little less obvious, sweetheart.” He was speaking quietly enough for nobody else to hear and not looking in your direction, pretending to still partake in the tables back-and-forth. Still the fear of your father, who was sat just across the table, overhearing Duncans remarks was petrifying.

You knew you couldn’t let your craving for him and the confusion from not knowing who he was last night effect the meeting, but there he was with that nickname again, stirring your desire even further.

“How are you even here?” You let your frustrations out onto him as you talked back, his cocky attitude getting to you too easily with the stress you were under. “I’m trying so hard not to ruin today and this situation isn’t helping! They’ll fire me if I mess this up and I’ll be fucked! Which surprisingly, I’d prefer not to be!” Your whispering was pretty aggressive, but could you really blame yourself?! This kind of coincidence was rare, so you had every right to be mad at the universe for letting it occur on today of all days.

His ego not faltering for even a second, he chuckled. “Oh you don’t wanna get fucked? Funny, because I remember you saying the exact opposite last night.”

He grazed his hand across your inner thigh, massaging it gently before diving underneath the little black pencil skirt you were wearing to grip onto your flushed skin.

You scoffed at his words and looked up at him, shocked at how bold he was being and expecting some kind of response from him, but he didn’t even look your way. You assumed this was so no attention was brought to the two of you and so you followed his lead, turning away from him just as fast as you had looked.

With the heat of your cunt having grown far too intense to bear, any friction that wasn’t your own thighs pressing up against each other was to be welcomed. So you decided not to stop him. In fact you did the exact opposite, spreading your thighs wider for him, not having the self control or restraint to keep yourself from him any longer.

His hand moved closer to where you needed him most, diving under the crotch of your underwear to swipe his fingers over your slick folds and immediately begin rubbing circles onto your neglected clit.

You stifled a moan, leaning onto the table on front of you to keep yourself steady as he touched you. Finally, he moved his gaze to rest on you, watching you as you struggled to stay silent. He whispered once more, “Always so wet for me, aren't you princess?”

●●●●●●●●

As soon as you entered the suite, Duncan gripped onto your waist, pushing you up against the door and cradling your cheek with his spare hand before smashing his lips into yours.

His tongue slipped past your lips, dancing with yours whilst he moved his hands all over your body, clutching onto your breasts and then moving them down to explore the rest of you.

He lifted your dress up just enough so he could grip your ass. Pulling you closer to him and making you feel his bulge against your hips, you were too short in comparison to him to feel him where you wanted to most.

He spoke to you in kisses, telling you of how ravenous he was for you and that he was going to savour every moment. He moved his lips down, trailing open mouthed kisses from your neck to your collarbones and to the top of your breasts.

“This fucking dress” He took ahold of the bottom of your dress, pulling it up above your head with urgency as you lifted your arms to better help him strip you. Throwing the dress down onto the floor and hearing it land somewhere behind him, he admired your body and it’s curves.

“The perfect wrapping for such an enticing present.” He finished his sentence. Immediately grabbing at your breasts, sucking and kissing them.

You couldn’t speak, too enthralled with the technique of his tongue swirling around your nipple to do anything but moan in response to him.

You threw your head back against the door, staring up that the beautifully patterned ceiling in pure ecstasy. You felt him drag a callused hand down to the waistband of your Lacy white panties, tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach as he traced his fingers over it. His finger tips running across the little white bow that centred the waistband.

He collapsed down to his knees, yanking the delicate lingerie as he fell, leaving it to puddle around your ankles.

He teased your heat, moving from kissing the skin of your thighs to your folds, but not yet reaching the lengths you wanted him to, only adding fuel to the fire in between your legs.

“Please Duncan-” you begged him, desperately needing some kind of release from the binds of lust he had managed to wrap you in over the past 45 minutes.

“Ah ah, don't you remember? You don’t get to call me that.” He spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mr Shepherd.” You corrected yourself, recalling the conversation you had with him prior to coming upstairs.

“Mhmm, now as magnificent as that name sounds coming from you, I know that there’s something else you’d rather call me.” He hummed in disapproval, calmly redirecting your choice of name for him and reassuringly pressing his lips onto your clit.

You let out a stuttered gasp, you did want to call him that, but now you felt nervous due to the build up he had created.

“Com’n, sweetheart. Do you think I don't know why you’re here in the first place? Why else would you be sat all alone in the bar of a hotel you weren’t even staying at? You’re just another slut with daddy issues, sneaking down to an expensive hotel to scavenge for any man good enough to fuck you into submission. Isn’t that right?”

Mildly insulted at his all too accurate observation of you, but enjoying the effect his degrading words have on you none the less, you gave him what he wanted. “Mm yes daddy!” You whimpered out, admitting your ploy to him.

A low rumble emitted from his chest, your words setting off some kind of animal inside him. He dove his face down into your pussy, starting by sucking on your clit gently, flicking his tongue over it and applying more and more pressure as you writhed above him.

His mouth was closed around you now, his grey, speckled stubble scratching your already inflamed skin. You were taken aback by his skills, intwining your fingers through the curls in his hair and tugging on them with every wave of pleasure that hit you.

He snaked his large hand around your thigh, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder while he ate you out. Enjoying the new angle he was utilising, he hummed, sending vibrations through your nerves up to the pit of your stomach, bringing you closer to your climax.

“Mmh.. fuck daddy, i’m gonna cum!” He didn’t let off, his tongue perhaps fucking into you even faster since you told him how close you were. You locked stares as your orgasm took over your body, your lips forming an o as you screwed your eyebrows together in rapture.

He came back up, letting you taste yourself and he placed his lips on yours again. You eased into the kiss, a relaxed haze having taken over your body in your post-orgasm state. Feeling a slight breeze flow up the side of your form, you realised that Duncan still had all his clothes on whilst you had none. Deciding you needed to change this as soon as possible, you began unbuttoning his suit’s matching black blazer and shirt, rushing to feel his skin on yours.

He helped you, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as you began to unthread his leather belt from the loops of his trousers. “You’re so impatient, little one.” He spoke.

“I think I’ve waited long enough, daddy.” You smirked, dropping the belt at his feet.

As soon as his shirt hit the floor you reached up, gliding your hands across the expanse of his bear chest, taking notice of how small your hands appeared in comparison to him. He watched you, relishing in the glimmer of entrancement that shone through your eyes as you ingested him.

He lifted you, his strong arms carrying you bridal style towards the king sized bed and throwing you down onto its crisp, satin sheets. Grabbing your ankles, he dragged you down the bed towards him and finished taking his pants off. His cock sprung free from the confines of his boxers, smacking against his stomach.

He clambered onto the bed, resting on his knees as he jerked himself in his hand, reluctantly groaning out at the first contact his neglected cock had received all night. His pressing cock had made it unfathomably hard not to just fuck you up against the door when he saw that sweet little way in which your face scrunched up as you came.

You were practically drooling, watching him fuck himself into his fist as his eyes scanned across your naked body. Not being able to wait any longer and wanting to finally feel his cock on your skin, you sat up slightly and reached out to touch him. But before you got the chance, he shoved you back down. leaning over you, he held your wrists down against the pillows with one hand and wrapped his other around your delicate throat.

“So greedy, baby” he stoked his thumb over the skin of your neck as he made his observation, watching you struggle underneath him.

“I just know what I want.” You toyed, your voiced coming out slightly muffled with the pressure of his large hand covering your voice box.

“Such an attitude, too.” His cock brushes over your cunt as he sways his head from side to side in disappointment and disproval. “Now sweetheart, you’re gonna stay exactly where you are and daddy’s gonna fuck you just like this, okay? So he can see that pretty little face of yours.”

You gulp at his words, anticipating the feeling of having him inside you. “Please just fuck me. Please.” You knew you sounded absolutely pathetic, but you didn’t care. Just needing him plummeting in and out of you as soon as possible.

He chuckled at your neediness. Taking his hands back from your wrists and grasping his cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in, he let you adjust to his size.

Moaning out, you dug your nails into the bed sheets, watching his head drop down to yours as he closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”

●●●●●●●●

He slipped his ringed finger into you, pushing against your spongy walls whilst you made a desperate attempt to suppress your moans. You bite down onto your nails, your elbow resting on the table as you put all your weight onto it for some kind of crutch.

He began with a slow pace, making sure you would feel every little movement he made. You heard him join into the conversation once again, mentioning something about an article he had seen from the Herald last month which had impressed him. You weren't even sure. You couldn't think for the pulsing beat of your own heart that filled your ears.

“You all right there, Y/N?” Your heavy breathing must have been a dead give away for something being up, being your father was now questioning you.

You felt Duncan stop his movements momentarily, joining the rest of the table in their standstill, staring at you as they awaited a reply, but his little act of sincerity didn't last too long.

“Yeah, uhm-“ you felt him slide a 2nd figure in, making you fake a cough as to stop the cry desperately trying to escape your throat from doing so.

“Yeah, I’m uh, just thirsty.” Hoping this would ward off the worried looks you were receiving, you were shocked when you heard Duncan chime in. “Oh don’t worry, we can get you something.”

He called the waiter over, asking him for a pitcher of lemonade and thanking him as he walked away, back towards the kitchen. You would have preferred some water, you thought, but you were far too focused on what was going on underneath the table to say anything.

“Now, where were we?” Seth began talking once more, bringing the attention back to where it should be. But Duncan? No. His attention stayed on you. Even more focused on fucking his fingers into than before, he sped up and began going even deeper now, curling them upwards until you were twitching.

You looked up at him pleadingly. You were getting too close to cumming for your own liking, so you grabbed onto his thigh and dug your nails into his expensive black dress pants, warning him. He shot you a devious grin, scissoring his fingers inside you and pressing his thumb down to rub sweet circles on your hooded clit, letting you know he didn’t intend on stopping.

He looked behind you suddenly. Following his gaze, you snapped your head to the side, trying to get a good look at what had grabbed his attention so abruptly.

It was the waiter. He had arrived with the pitcher of lemonade in hand and yet Duncan was still plummeting his hand into your pussy with such a speed you began to wonder if someone had actually noticed what was truly going on. I mean the waiter must know.

At this point you had let far too many questionable gasps leave your mouth, your breathing had become even more erratic as you grew closer to your orgasm. He knew you were about to break before he swiftly pulled his fingers out of you, wiping the juices that coated them back and front onto your skirt so he could pick up the glass on front of you, leaving you unsatisfied.

You scrambled to collect your thoughts and breath as he picked up the pitcher, pouring the ice cooled lemonade into your glass.

“Here.” He spoke. You lifted a shaky hand up to take the glass from him when the grasp he had on it ‘slipped’, spilling the contents of it the onto your lap.

“Oh!’ You jumped up, making the sweet, sticky liquid run off your skirt to your thighs, dripping down your legs and eventually onto the floor. The now empty glass falling with it.

“I am so sorry, Miss Y/L/N.” He picked up the glass, sitting it on the table before joining you in standing. Now he was stood, you could clearly see the dark tint of his cock straining against the constrictive fabric that was his dress pants. It sent a pulse of lust through your cunt.

“Duncan!” Hearing Annette voice her annoyance at her son for being so clumsy almost made you laugh. It was quite amusing seeing his mother reprimand him, being he was a grown man in his 40s.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I-I’ll just go clean myself up in the bathroom. I don’t want to distract the meeting anymore than I already have.” You made eye contact with your father as he rubbed his temples.

He was annoyed at the scene you and Duncan had caused. You gave him an apologetic look, feeling bad for stressing him out even more than you already had with being late, but knowing it was technically Duncan’s fault and not yours.

“Please, let me help you clean up.” Duncan pushed his chair in, quickly grabbing some napkins off the table and resting his hand on your back to guide you towards the nearest bathroom, walking as fast as your weak legs would let him.

His hand stayed delicately placed on the small of your back, until you were out of the tables sight, at which point he took hold of your arm, clutching it like a vice as he dragged you through the bathroom door.

He locked the door behind him in preparation for what was to come. He needed to make sure nobody would be walking in on what he was about to do to you.

Looking back towards you, satisfied as ever now he had you alone, he waltzed on over, pinning you up against the counter with force. You could smell him on you again, same cologne from the night before. Dior, you guessed.

“You’re not very good at staying quiet, are you, Sweetheart?” He mused, hoisting you up onto the counter and forcefully cradling your face with both hands as he moved to kiss you deeply. His tongue ravenously re-familiarising itself with your mouth.

“You almost got us caught back there.” He spoke in between kisses. “Your poor, naive father, watching you. He was probably wondering why you kept squirming.” He voiced a dark giggle, moving down to suckle on your neck and push your skirt up your thighs.

“I almost got us caught? No. Y-you almost got us caught when you decided putting a second f-FUCK, finger into me whilst I was talking to him was a good idea!” You choked out, doing your best to fight through the pleasure of his lips finally grazing your skin as you watched him pull your panties down and slot them into his pants pocket.

“Awh poor baby. Did you not want your daddy knowing that you’re a greedy little slut for his new boss? Hm?” He admired the blossoming lavender and cherry bruises now forming on your neck as he teased, marvelling at the idea they could be noticed by your father once you finished.

He quickly opened his fly, pulling his dress pants and boxers down just enough that he could pump his cock in his hand. Gripping onto your hips for purchase, his fingers dug into you so viciously you could feel the marks he had left the night before. You knew after this, there would surely be more.

He thrust himself into you, earning a loud wail to fall from your lips. You arched your spine at the feeling of him pounding into you, making your head fall back against the mirror behind you. His hand shot up to the it as he gathered more speed, his pace growing far faster than you had anticipated.

“Was it too much for you? Taking my fingers in your cunt whilst you were trying oh so hard to concentrate? I almost made you cum on front of everyone.” You moaned out at his grotesque words, pulling your head up to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Answer me.” He pulled your chin up back to look at him, still pounding into you. The sound of your skin slapping against one another’s felt even louder in the small, tiled bathroom.

“Yes daddy! It was too much for me - AHH!!” You let yourself go limp against the mirror, giving yourself up to him entirely and wanting nothing more than for him to use you like his personal rag doll.

●●●●●●●●

Your throat was growing hoarser with every squeal you made. Duncan had been fucking you ruthlessly for what felt like hours now, constantly changing his pace from calm to aggressive and back again. His lips were mouthing over your peaked nipples, tongue slathering trails of saliva across your skin and teeth scrapping over dozens of tiny goosebumps.

“Such a filthy, fucking whore for me.” Squeezing down on your neck with one hand he uses his other to slap you. His ringed hand coming down across your fleshy cheek with a loud crack.

You gasped out, shocked at this move and feeling reinvigorated by the suddenness of it. His abuse only made you more attracted to him, causing your cunt to puddle its juices around his cock.

Slowing his thrusts down to an almost complete halt, he grabbed your jaw, yanking your mouth open just enough that when he dripped his spit down you could catch it. You moaned at the filth of his actions, tasting the bourbon he had drank earlier at the bar.

Following the thick thread of salvia that connected the two of you to each other, he brought his face back down to yours, bringing your sloppy lips together. Never giving you the chance to close your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Your lips part, foreheads leaning on each other with eyes locked as you scream and moan at his brutal fucking. “Such a good girl.” He praised you.

“Thank you daddy!!” You cry out, feeling tears brimming in your eyes at the deepness of his cock. You knew he was going to be good when he first pushed you up again that door, but this was insane. You had never felt his turned on before. Loving being completely at his mercy, but receiving none.

He pulled out suddenly, wrapping his hands around your stomach and flipping you over to your front. You got the just of what he wanted and clambered onto your hands and knees for him. He pushed his cock back into your folds, hips ricocheting off your ass immediately.

He pulled at your hair, lifting you up to his chest as he gruffed and groaned. He was much larger than you, making it easy for him to pull your head back enough that he could see the expression on your lust enthralled face.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He demands, spanking your ass cheek and twisting your hair around in his hand. His other hand moved to your gaping mouth, pushing two fingers inside so you taste the metallic bite of his silver band.

You gag as he fucks your mouth, mumbling around his fingers in a desperate attempt at begging him to allow you to cum. You were getting so close now. You guys had been going for so long and your impending release wasn’t going to wait much longer.

“Fuckk, don’t worry sweetheart. Daddy’s close too.” He took his fingers out of your mouth, bringing them down to your clit and swiping at it furiously. You could feel your own spit on his fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“Ohh Daddy’s gonna come so deep inside you, little one.. would you like that?” His breathes were uneven. Thrusts uncontrolled and sloppy.

“Yes!! Fuck, fuck, FUCK Daddy I’m cumming!!” Your cunt pulsated around his shaft, squeezing his own orgasm out of him even sooner than he expected as you screamed. You could taste the saltiness of your own tears, them having run down your cheekbones and into your agape mouth.

His cum flooded your walls, filling you up with his hips pressed against yours as he enveloped you in an embrace from behind. He uttered out a shudder against your temple, his breathe feeling hot and damp on your skin.

He set you back down on the bed and pulled his softening shaft out of you, moving his large hands back to your hips as your own gave out and fell underneath you, pressing your face into the sheets. You eventually rolled over to lay on your back, wanting to let your aftershocks roll through your quivering limbs more comfortably.

He fell down onto the duvet next to you, propping himself up on his side slightly and pulling you closer to him so he could plant a kiss on your swollen lips. “You alright? I didn't hurt too bad now, did I?” He stroked your face, words alluring as ever now your resting bare bodies were tangled up together in a complete stand still.

“Nothing that I didn't enjoy, no.” You joked, lightly drawing intricate shapes on his arm with your fingertips, still harnessing the blemishing sting his ring had left under your cheekbone. “I’d say we're pretty well aquatinted now; wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

●●●●●●●

You could feel cool drips of perspiration slipping down your heated skin from your forehead to your collar bones and all you could do was hope they hadn't taken any of the concealer you had applied earlier this morning with them. You had needed to cover the bruise Duncan’s ring had so easily left on your cheek the night before, since you really didn't want your father or anyone else from work seeing it.

Duncan’s cock was curving in all the right places as he hammered into you. His pace and brutality showing you stars. He seemed even more confident than he did yesterday. Having had experience with you, he knew that you could take his most heinous savagery with delight and didn’t hold off one bit.

His huffs and groans were tantalising, growing louder and more uncontrolled as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand squeaked as it fell down the steamed mirror he leant on, leaving the glass behind you and finding its way to your jaw. He brought your face to his own and kissed you, loudly moaning into your open mouth.

You giggled through your mewls. “Mmm.. I thought I was the loud one, daddy.” You were amused that he had been teasing you so adamantly about the volume of your pleasure, when he was now the one making all the noise.

He paused, quirking an eyebrow at you before slamming his hips into you with a thrust so strong it made you practically scream out. “Oh, my apologises, sweetheart.” He smirked as he picked up his pace once more.

You wrapped your hands in his perfectly styled hair. You no longer cared who knew what was really happening in here, the thought didn’t even cross your mind. All you cared for was chasing your high. You rutted your hips on his and took his length entirely, feeling dangerously close to cumming.

“Fuckkk baby, daddy’s gonna cum okay?. Cum with me princess. Fall apart on my cock.” His unfocused thrusts had you coming undone in seconds. You held onto him tight, digging your nails into his shoulders and pulling at his curls as you cried out in ecstasy.

He shot his seed into you, feeling all his pent up frustrations from earlier at the table leave him as he pushed himself deep into your abused cunt. He didn’t even attempt to stifle his moans, too invested in finally receiving his release to realise just how loud he was being.

He rested his forehead on yours, your sweaty skin pressed against each other as you both attempted to catch your breathes after such a quick, ruthless fuck. You started laughing, finding it utterly ridiculous that you had spent the majority of a meeting you had been terrified for, getting fucked by your new boss (and the man you had fucked the night before) in a restaurant bathroom.

He joined in laughing, clearly finding humour within this strange situation too. Interrupting your laugh, he pushed his lips into yours, kissing you as if your lips were some kind of prize. You felt his cock slip from your cunt, his seed immediately spilling from it as you were left with a sudden, empty sensation.

He made quick work of zipping his pants back up and fastening his belt. You tugged your skirt back down to your thighs, being reminded of how Duncan had snatched your panties and stashed them in his pants pocket. You guessed you wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon, which you were okay with, you just hoped nobody saw his remnants leaving you left the bathroom.

You flattened out your skirt and felt the wet sticky lemonade that still coated it. You had completely forgotten to clean it. “Fuck, my skirt's still sticky! Why would you order lemonade?” You whined; still mad he hadn’t just ordered some water.

Awaiting a reply, you turned to check your make up in the mirror. Luckily it was pretty light today, so it still looked good other than the bruise on your cheek now being slightly more obvious than before. What really concerned you was your neck. It was covered in every shade of purple and red you were aware existed. If your father and coworkers didn’t know what was going on from how weird you were being at the table before, or how long it had taken the two of you to finish in the bathroom, or the noises that were emitting from it, they would definitely know after seeing all the claims he had left on your skin.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think that spilt water would have been a good enough excuse to get you all alone in here.” He chuckled to himself, leaning over to rest his chin on your head and wrapping his arms around your waist as he joked over his mischievousness.

“But we should probably head back out there. I’m sure your father’s going to apprentice the beautiful mosaic I’ve painted across your neck” he kissed the bruises he spoke of as he watched you through the mirror.

You scoffed at him, gifting yourself one last look before completely giving up on finding a way you could make your face and neck appear more presentable for heading back to the table.

Duncan opened the bathroom door, nodding his head towards the hallway and waiting for you to hurry up and join him.

The two of you started walking back, your legs struggling to take your weight with how weak they had become. Your heels clicked along the floor, making you far more aware of how soon you would be sitting back down with everyone from work. Like a clock counting down to all the judgmental stares you would surly be receiving.

You kept your eyes trained on the floor as you took your seat at the table. Seths voice trailed off upon seeing the two of you sit down, leaving you both in the middle of an uncomfortable silence that felt near suffocating.

“What took so long!” You could hear the anger and perhaps embarrassment in Annettes voice as she whispered to Duncan. She looked towards you, glaring and scowling before retiring her vision back to him. She was probably hoping that what she assumed to have occurred hadn’t, but from the marks clearly decorating your neck, she would have known it to be true.

“Oh, we just couldn’t get the lemonade out of her skirt.” He tut as he spoke to his mother, smiling and playing off any obvious suspicions. “I’m sorry, really.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, dripping with a sincerity you knew to be false.

“So what was it we were discussing?” he speaks louder now, addressing the rest of the table.

“Uhh actually, I think we have a deal.” Seth replied, looking over at him and then the rest of the table. You heard your father mutter something in agreement, but it was meek. Quiet. He must have felt the awkward tension too. It was ripe in the air, like a shiver you couldn’t shake off. You didn't even want to look at him, knowing If anyone there felt most uncomfortable, it was him.

Saying their goodbyes and finishing up with any last details, everyone stood to shake hands and bid their farewells. You felt your fathers scowl as he came and stood beside you, but you didn't dare look at him. You were too ashamed to face him whilst still with your coworkers.

Duncan walked over to your father, looking more satisfied than ever with his eyes still focused on you as he thanked him for meeting and shook his hand firmly.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Y/L/N.” He let go of your fathers hand only to take a hold of yours. He grasped it delicately, a touch more gentle than he had ever shown you previously. Assuming he was trying you shake it, you were more than surprised when he raised it to his lips, kissing your rosey knuckles; still red from the tight grip you had, had on his hair earlier.

“I look forward to working with you in the future, Y/N.” He graced you with once last signature smirk as he walked away, leaving you with your father who was waiting for an explanation and apology for your disgusting and foolish behaviour.

Maybe it hadn’t been the worst way to spend lunch.

Tags: @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @ntxoza @angelicmichael @jimmason @michaellangdonstanaccount @blakescoven @7-wonders @ghostangels @fernfiction @brattylovee @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @instincts-baby

[juminhanswife48]

Jumin X MC: going to watch Zen’s play

hehehe had this idea for a while, hope u all enjoy!!!

“MC, slow down!” Jumin quickly shuffled behind her, almost falling victim to the crowds that were accumulating on the sideways. “What is the rush?”

MC grasped his hand tighter, as if she were the mother to a toddler. His heavy feet dragged behind her, protesting every turn she took. He sighed loudly, making faces of annoyance at every sign or mention of the mysterious event. MC fled through the crowds with Jumin attached to her. “Sorry!” MC yelled back with a sweet smile as she bumped into anyone. No one could stay mad at her sweet smile, so even the street punks just brushed off the tiny alterations.

Jumin took note of his surroundings, they were in the heart of the city. The only things there were the theatre, restaurants, clubs, and shops. They’d already had dinner, it was too late to shop, so she was taking him to the club or the theatre.

“We are here!” MC smiled as she stopped in her tracks and looked behind her. There Jumin stood, his eyes relaxed with a look of absolute disgust.

“Why did you take me here?”

MC looked up and pointed to the lighting up sign: ACTOR ZEN GOES BACK TO HIS ROOTS IN...TEI’S TEA LEAF!! PREMIERING FOR ONLY 3 DAYS!! The sign read in glistening golden letters.

“MC...i’m not sitting through an hour of him galloping on stage as his fan girls drool over him.”

“Come on!” MC pleaded. “We have to support our friends.”

“Your friend.” Jumin quickly corrected.

“No, he’s apart of the RFA and we all need to get along.” MC dropped his hand then moved closer to him. “He’d really appreciate if everyone showed up. Seven is already busy with work and can’t come, so i’m sure he would appreciate it if you did.”

“Ugh,” Jumin scoffed. “I’m only going to sit through this for you.”

MC smiled, then grabbed his hand again. “He gave all the RFA members access to the balconies, so we can all watch from there together.”

MC began walking to the entrance with Jumin dragging his feet behind her. “So excited.” He sarcastically nodded.

“Oh! And he told everyone to meet in his dressing room before the show.”

Jumin looked up at the night sky before they entered the building.

This is going to be a long night.

_______

“Hey!” Zen smiled wide as MC opened his dressing room door. “I’m so glad you came!” He got to MC’s level and gave her a friendly hug.

“Hi Zen.” MC quickly hugged him.

“Back up.” Jumin appeared into the doorframe.

“Ugh why did you have to bring this JERK?” Zen rolled his eyes obnoxiously as he backed away from MC.

“Don’t hug MC like that.” Jumin immediately shot back.

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” MC said as she put herself in between the two men. She knew things would escalate if she didn’t intervene, and although it would be so entertaining to watch them hash it out, now wasn’t the time.

“Jumin, it was just a friendly hug. And Zen, stop calling him names.”

Jumin smirked at Zen, then grabbed MC’s waist and pulled her in close to him.

“Anyways!” Zen said. He turned quickly, his long ponytail swaying in the air. “Seven couldn’t make it. And Jaehee said she might be a little bit late.” He sat on his chair, then made direct eye contact with Jumin. “Thanks to her lovely boss who exploits her labor-”

“Oh my god you guys need to stop.” MC interrupted.

“I haven’t said or done anything yet to incite an argument.” Jumin said innocently. He looked around the room and saw a red couch, up against the wall. Jumin quietly took MC’s hand then walked to the couch and they sat shoulder to shoulder.

“Zen, don’t you have to do makeup or something?” MC asked, quickly changing the subject. Maybe it was a mistake taking Jumin to the musical, but she thought it would be a sweet gesture to support Zen.

“No, i just have to change my clothes before the play starts.” Zen answered.

MC always loved when the whole RFA spent time together, although it was really hard to get those gatherings.

Jumin already had a busy schedule, Jaehee too. Seven was constantly backed up with work, and Zen got mobbed in the daylight. When the RFA got together it was usually in private, or at night time. There was a flip side though, Yoosung was usually always free and loved hanging out with MC. Jumin didn’t mind when they hung out too much; he just requested that MC texted him every half hour.

“Hellooo!” Yoosung proudly announced as he answered the room. The awkward veil got lifted, as Zen smiled back. “I had to ask for directions back here and the security thought I was Zen’s fan...Oh, hey MC and Jumin!”

“Hi Yoosung.” MC said cheerfully. Jumin raised his hand up then waved.

Rather quickly Zen and Yoosung began talking amongst themselves.

Jumin focused his attention back to MC, then placed his hand on her thigh. She looked at him, her eyes big with a rose blush appearing on her cheeks.

“Jumin…” She whispered. She rubbed her nose then smiled. “About what Zen said…I feel really bad for Jaehee,” She placed her hand on top of his. “She works so hard for you, you don’t exploit her, but she deserves a break once in a while. You should go easy on her.”

“Please MC, not right now. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m sorry.” She was slightly embarrassed.

“Hey!” Yoosung said as he looked at Jumin. “I’m surprised you came...”

“MC just dragged me around town, she didn’t tell me where we were going.”

“Ohh, now i get it. That’s smart, MC. Good one.” Zen chimed in.

“Super smart!” Yoosung said.

Yoosung and Zen resumed their conversation, then Jumin looked into MC’s eyes. “I’m sorry if i hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean it that way. I just want to keep my work separate from my personal life.”

“I get it, it’s ok.” MC said. Jumin smiled then squeezed her thigh.

“Heyyy! So gross and handsy!!” Zen laughed loudly.

Jumin quickly took his hand from her thigh, then rolled his eyes. “You both are so childish.”

“Ignore them.” MC softly said. Jumin’s face was lit up with shades of red and pink, he tried to cover his face but it didn’t work, which Zen blissfully pointed out.

Zen and Yoosung continued with their laughter, until a tiny feminine voice said ‘Hello’ at the door.

MC looked up and saw Jaehee standing there, nervously twiddling her thumbs. She was wearing a simple, yet elegant dress. It was peach colored with light sparkles and layered with lace.

“Jaehee you look so beautiful.” MC said. Zen nodded in agreement.

“You do too, thank you so much.” Jaehee said as she slightly lowered her upper body to bow.

“Hi Jaehee.” Zen and Yoosung said in union.

Jumin simply looked up at Jaehee and nodded his head.

“I’m really grateful you all came,” Zen started. “I work really hard for my plays and it means a lot that you guys want to see that.”

“I know you work hard, that’s why i wanted everyone to see how talented you are.” MC said.

Jumin felt a hit of jealousy to him with that comment. He knew MC didn’t mean to make him jealous, but he still felt it. Jumin looked back to MC’s face and stared. It was something he did to silently get her attention, or when he needed to mask his own insecurities. MC looked at Jumin and saw his eyes, then she knew how he was feeling. She grabbed his hand then intertwined her fingers with him. Dammit, she thought to herself. She always forgot that supportive comments towards Zen usually made Jumin feel a certain type of way.

“I’m happy i get to experience your plays live, they usually sell out very quickly!” Jaehee smiled.

“Yeah you’re getting really really popular.” Yoosung agreed.

MC felt really bad for Jaehee. As many times as she tried to convince Jumin to not overbear her with work, he only partially listened when MC started to get frustrated, which always ended up with the same old “work life is not part of my personal life, blah, blah, blah” defense. MC had even offered to take up some of Jaehee’s work, but Jumin always respectfully declined.

So whenever MC noticed Jaehee not taking proper care of herself, or drowning in work, she would always swoop in and take Jaehee under her wing. MC couldn’t count the times that she had sent food to Jaehee, or spent hours with her organizing documents and helping her write up reports behind Jumin’s back. Jaehee and MC had a tight bond, wether Jumin denied it or not.

“Well, the show starts in 20 minutes so now that everyone is here maybe you should go to the balcony,” Zen started. “You guys just walk down this hallway, there should be stairs. Then just go to the right there should be a security guard, he’ll tell you where to go from there.”

____________

The show was going great. Zen’s performance was very respectful, and his talent poured out of every line and song he performed. MC had never viewed any of his work until then, but she had quickly realized why he was famous.

Jaehee was enjoying herself more than ever before, and although Yoosung was intently engaged with the play, it was obvious he was a bit confused as to what was going on, often times whispering to Jaehee for confirmation to this questions.

But MC couldn’t seem to focus or enjoy the play, there was something slowly eating away at her conscience. She could feel that Jumin wasn’t enjoying himself. Well, he probably wouldn’t enjoy himself in the first place; musical theatre and Zen weren’t his favorite things. But she could sense he wasnt feeling the best way, about a different topic.

“Jumin,” MC whispered into Jumin’s ear. He jumped a bit, surprised of how close she was. The loud musical number wasn’t helping her case, as it was really hard to hear anything besides Zen’s singing. “We need to talk?”

He nodded his head, then they got up and walked out of the balcony, which drew the attention of Jaehee and Yoosung.

“Be quick!” Yoosung smiled. Jaehee looked at the couple then sighed, they were ruining the beautiful moment, in her mind.

Jumin followed MC out to the vacant hallway, where she balanced herself up against the grey wall. This hallway that connected to the balcony was for VIP guests only, so it acted like a storage space away from the general public. Carts full of wires, books, and costumes flooded the sides of the hallway.

There was always something so eerie and creepy about empty hallways, especially during a musical. You were still able to head the distant echos from the theatre room, but the hallways amplified the tiny sound to make it sound like something out of a horror movie.

“When i’m being friendly to Zen, it’s nothing more than that. I’m just trying to be supportive, and i know it bothers you sometimes. I just want you to know I only have eyes for you.” MC said. Jumin got in front of her, then blinked a few times.

“I’m sorry, you just know how him and I don’t get along, sometimes i feel like he takes advantage of your kindness to get back at me.”

MC smiled. “I...I don’t think Zen is that malicious towards you. He’s just a friendly and flirtatious person.” She put her hands on his chest then began to smooth out his jacket. “But. I know when to draw the line with him.” She picked a piece of Elizabeth’s fur off of his jacket and looked up at him. “And i always do.”

“I would hope so. I’m serious when it comes to things with you.”

“Me too, Jumin. I really love you. But with that being said, if there’s something that you want me to stop doing...then I will.” She took her hands away from his chest, letting her arms rest by her side. “I care more about your happiness, and us at the end of the day.”

Jumin nodded his head then pulled her in for a tight hug. “Just stay the way you are with me.” MC felt a light kiss on the top of her head.

The rest of the night played out well, Jumin and Zen were still bitter towards each other, but Jumin felt more secure with his relationship with MC. It was getting easier for him to realize that her support for Zen only came out of the place that made him fall in love with her in the first place: her kindness and regard for others.

[stevishabitat]

The summer wasn’t meant to be like this. By April, Greene County, in southwestern Missouri, seemed to be past the worst of the pandemic. Intensive-care units that once overflowed had emptied. Vaccinations were rising. Health-care workers who had been fighting the coronavirus for months felt relieved—perhaps even hopeful. Then, in late May, cases started ticking up again. By July, the surge was so pronounced that “it took the wind out of everyone,” Erik Frederick, the chief administrative officer of Mercy Hospital Springfield, told me. “How did we end up back here again?”

The hospital is now busier than at any previous point during the pandemic. In just five weeks, it took in as many COVID-19 patients as it did over five months last year. Ten minutes away, another big hospital, Cox Medical Center South, has been inundated just as quickly. “We only get beds available when someone dies, which happens several times a day,” Terrence Coulter, the critical-care medical director at CoxHealth, told me.

Last week, Katie Towns, the acting director of the Springfield–Greene County Health Department, was concerned that the county’s daily cases were topping 250. On Wednesday, the daily count hit 405. This dramatic surge is the work of the super-contagious Delta variant, which now accounts for 95 percent of Greene County’s new cases, according to Towns. It is spreading easily because people have ditched their masks, crowded into indoor spaces, resumed travel, and resisted vaccinations. Just 40 percent of people in Greene County are fully vaccinated. In some nearby counties, less than 20 percent of people are.

Many experts have argued that, even with Delta, the United States is unlikely to revisit the horrors of last winter. Even now, the country’s hospitalizations are one-seventh as high as they were in mid-January. But national optimism glosses over local reality. For many communities, this year will be worse than last. Springfield’s health-care workers and public-health specialists are experiencing the same ordeals they thought they had left behind. “But it feels worse this time because we’ve seen it before,” Amelia Montgomery, a nurse at CoxHealth, told me. “Walking back into the COVID ICU was demoralizing.”

Those ICUs are also filling with younger patients, in their 20s, 30s, and 40s, including many with no underlying health problems. In part, that’s because elderly people have been more likely to get vaccinated, leaving Delta with a younger pool of vulnerable hosts. While experts are still uncertain if Delta is deadlier than the original coronavirus, every physician and nurse in Missouri whom I spoke with told me that the 30- and 40-something COVID-19 patients they’re now seeing are much sicker than those they saw last year. “That age group did get COVID before, but they didn’t usually end up in the ICU like they are now,” Jonathan Brown, a respiratory therapist at Mercy, told me. Nurses are watching families navigate end-of-life decisions for young people who have no advance directives or other legal documents in place.

Almost every COVID-19 patient in Springfield’s hospitals is unvaccinated, and the dozen or so exceptions are all either elderly or immunocompromised people. The vaccines are working as intended, but the number of people who have refused to get their shots is crushing morale. Vaccines were meant to be the end of the pandemic. If people don’t get them, the actual end will look more like Springfield’s present: a succession of COVID-19 waves that will break unevenly across the country until everyone has either been vaccinated or infected. “You hear post-pandemic a lot,” Frederick said. “We’re clearly not post-pandemic. New York threw a ticker-tape parade for its health-care heroes, and ours are knee-deep in COVID.”

That they are in this position despite the wide availability of vaccines turns difficult days into unbearable ones. As bad as the winter surge was, Springfield’s health-care workers shared a common purpose of serving their community, Steve Edwards, the president and CEO of CoxHealth, told me. But now they’re “putting themselves in harm’s way for people who’ve chosen not to protect themselves,” he said. While there were always ways of preventing COVID-19 infections, Missourians could have almost entirely prevented this surge through vaccination—but didn’t. “My sense of hope is dwindling,” Tracy Hill, a nurse at Mercy, told me. “I’m losing a little bit of faith in mankind. But you can’t just not go to work.”

When Springfield’s hospitals saw the first pandemic wave hitting the coasts, they could steel themselves. This time, with Delta thrashing Missouri fast and first, they haven’t had time to summon sufficient reinforcements. Between them, Mercy and Cox South have recruited about 300 traveling nurses, respiratory therapists, and other specialists, which is still less than they need. The hospitals’ health-care workers have adequate PPE and most are vaccinated. But in the ICUs and in COVID-19 wards, respiratory therapists still must constantly adjust ventilators, entire teams must regularly flip patients onto their belly and back again, and nurses spend long shifts drenched in sweat as they repeatedly don and doff protective gear. In previous phases of the pandemic, both hospitals took in patients from other counties and states. “Now we’re blasting outward,” Coulter said. “We’re already saturating the surrounding hospitals.”

Meanwhile, the hospitals’ own staff members are exhausted beyond telling. After the winter surge, they spent months catching up on record numbers of postponed surgeries and other procedures. Now they’re facing their sharpest COVID-19 surge yet on top of those backlogged patients, many of whom are sicker than usual because their health care had to be deferred. Even with hundreds of new patients with lung cancer, asthma, and other respiratory diseases waiting for care in outpatient settings, Coulter still has to cancel his clinics because “I have to be in the hospital all the time,” he said.

Many health-care workers have had enough. Some who took on extra shifts during past surges can’t bring themselves to do so again. Some have moved to less stressful positions that don’t involve treating COVID-19. Others are holding the line, but only just. “You can’t pour from an empty cup, but with every shift it feels like my co-workers and I are empty,” Montgomery said. “We are still trying to fill each other up and keep going.”

The grueling slog is harder now because it feels so needless, and because many patients don’t realize their mistake until it’s too late. On Tuesday, Hill spoke with an elderly man who had just been admitted and was very sick. “He said, ‘I’m embarrassed that I’m here,’” she told me. “He wanted to talk about the vaccine, and in the back of my mind I’m thinking, You have a very high likelihood of not leaving the hospital.” Other patients remain defiant. “We had someone spit in a nurse’s eye because she told him he had COVID and he didn’t believe her,” Edwards said.

Some health-care workers are starting to resent their patients—an emotion that feels taboo. “You’re just angry,” Coulter said, “and you feel guilty for getting angry, because they’re sick and dying.” Others are indignant on behalf of loved ones who don’t already have access to the vaccines. “I’m a mom of a 1-year-old and a 4-year-old, and the daughter of family members in Zimbabwe and South Africa who can’t get vaccinated yet,” says Matifadza Hlatshwayo Davis, who works at a Veterans Affairs hospital in St. Louis. “I’m frustrated, angry, and sad.”

“I don’t think people get that once you become sick enough to be hospitalized with COVID, the medications and treatments that we have are, quite frankly, not very good,” says Howard Jarvis, the medical director of Cox South’s emergency department. Drugs such as dexamethasone offer only incremental benefits. Monoclonal antibodies are effective only during the disease’s earliest stages. Doctors can give every recommended medication, and patients still have a high chance of dying. The goal should be to stop people from getting sick in the first place.

But Missouri Governor Mike Parson never issued a statewide mask mandate, and the state’s biggest cities—Kansas City, St. Louis, Springfield, and Columbia—ended their local orders in May, after the CDC said that vaccinated people no longer needed to wear masks indoors. In June, Parson signed a law that limits local governments’ ability to enact public-health restrictions. And even before the pandemic, Missouri ranked 41st out of all the states in terms of public-health funding. “We started in a hole and we’re trying to catch up,” Towns, the director of the Springfield–Greene County Health Department, told me.

Her team flattened last year’s curve through testing, contact tracing, and quarantining, but “Delta has just decimated our ability to respond,” Kendra Findley, the department’s administrator for community health and epidemiology, told me. The variant is spreading too quickly for the department to keep up with every new case, and more people are refusing to cooperate with contact tracers than at this time last year. The CDC has sent a “surge team” to help, but it’s just two people: an epidemiologist, who is helping analyze data on Delta’s spread, and a communications person. And like Springfield’s hospitals, the health department was already overwhelmed with work that had been put off for a year. “Suddenly, I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day,” Findley said.

Early last year, Findley stuck a note on her whiteboard with the number of people who died in the 1918 flu pandemic: 50 million worldwide and 675,000 in the U.S. “It was for perspective: We will not get here. You can manage this,” she told me. “I looked at it the other day and I think we’re going to get there. And I feel like a large segment of the population doesn’t care.”

The 1918 flu pandemic took Missouri by surprise too, says Carolyn Orbann, an anthropologist at the University of Missouri who studies that disaster. While much of the world felt the brunt of the pandemic in October 1918, Missouri had irregular waves with a bigger peak in February 1920. So when COVID-19 hit, Orbann predicted that the state might have a similarly drawn-out experience. Missouri has a widely dispersed population, divided starkly between urban and rural places, and few highways—a recipe for distinct and geographically disparate microcultures. That perhaps explains why new pathogens move erratically through the state, creating unpredictable surges and, in some pockets, a false sense of security. Last year, “many communities may have gone through their lockdown period without registering a single case and wondered, What did we do that for?” Orbann told me.

She also suspects that Missourians in 1918 might have had a “better overhead view of the course of the pandemic in their communities than the average citizen has now.” Back then, the state’s local papers published lists of people who were sick, so even those who didn’t know anyone with the flu could see that folks around them were dying. “It made the pandemic seem more local,” Orbann said. “Now, with fewer hometown newspapers and restrictions on sharing patient information, that kind of knowledge is restricted to people working in health care.”

Montgomery, the CoxHealth nurse, feels that disparity whenever she leaves the hospital. “I work in the ICU, where it’s like a war zone, and I go out in public and everything’s normal,” she said. “You see death and suffering, and then you walk into the grocery store and get resistance. It feels like we’re being ostracized by our community.”

If anything, people in the state have become more entrenched in their beliefs and disbeliefs than they were last year, Davis, the St. Louis–based doctor, told me. They might believe that COVID-19 has been overblown, that young people won’t be harmed, or that the vaccines were developed too quickly to be safe. But above all else, “what I predominantly get is, ‘I don’t want to talk to you about that; let’s move on,’” Davis said.

People take the pandemic seriously when they can see it around them. During past surges in other parts of the U.S., curves flattened once people saw their loved ones falling ill, or once their community became the unwanted focus of national media coverage. The same feedback loop might be starting to occur in Missouri. The major Route 66 Festival has been canceled. More people are making vaccine appointments at both Cox South and Mercy.

In Springfield, the public-health professionals I talked with felt that they had made successful efforts to address barriers to vaccine access, and that vaccine hesitancy was the driving force of low vaccination rates. Improving those rates is now a matter of engendering trust as quickly as possible. Springfield’s firefighters are highly trusted, so the city set up vaccine clinics in local fire stations. Community-health advocates are going door-to-door to talk with their neighbors about vaccines. The Springfield News-Leader is set to publish a full page of photos of well-known Springfieldians who are advocating for vaccination. Several local pastors have agreed to preach about vaccines from their pulpits and set up vaccination events in their churches. One such event, held at James River Church on Monday, vaccinated 156 people. “Once we got down to the group of hesitant people, we’d be happy if we had 20 people show up to a clinic,” says Cora Scott, Springfield’s director of public information and civic engagement. “To have 156 people show up in one church in one day is phenomenal.”

But building trust is slow, and Delta is moving fast. Even if the still-unvaccinated 55 percent of Missourians all got their first shots tomorrow, it would still take a month to administer the second ones, and two weeks more for full immunity to develop. As current trends show, Delta can do a lot in six weeks. Still, “if we can get our vaccination levels to where some of the East Coast states have got to, I’ll feel a lot better going into the fall,” Frederick, Mercy’s chief administrative officer, said. “If we plateau again, my fear is that we will see the twindemic of flu and COVID.”

In the meantime, southwest Missouri is now a cautionary tale of what Delta can do to a largely unvaccinated community that has lowered its guard. None of Missouri’s 114 counties has vaccinated more than 50 percent of its population, and 75 haven’t yet managed more than 30 percent. Many such communities exist around the U.S. “There’s very few secrets about this disease, because the answer is always somewhere else,” Edwards said. “I think we’re a harbinger of what other states can expect.”

[jewish-privilege]

...Constantin was ultimately the youngest of thousands of children taken from their parents under a policy that was meant to deter families hoping to immigrate to the United States. It began nearly a year before the administration would acknowledge it publicly in May 2018, and the total number of those affected is still unknown. The government still has not told the Mutus why their son was taken from them, and officials from the Department of Homeland Security declined to comment for this story.

In Constantin’s case, it would be months before his parents saw him again. Before then, his father would be sent for psychiatric evaluation in a Texas immigration detention center because he couldn’t stop crying; his mother would be hospitalized with hypertension from stress. Constantin would become attached to a middle-class American family, having spent the majority of his life in their tri-level house on a tree-lined street in rural Michigan, and then be sent home.

Now more than a year and a half old, the baby still can’t walk on his own, and has not spoken.

Though the vast majority of families streaming across the border from Mexico in recent months have come from Central America, running from poverty, drought and violence, the Mutus came from much further away — Romania, where a small but steady number of asylum seekers fleeing ethnic persecution have for years made their way to the United States.

As children growing up in their small hillside village, Vasile and Florentina Mutu helped their parents beg for money for food. They are members of the Roma minority group, which originated in India. In Romania, the Roma were enslaved for more than 500 years. Violent attacks against them persist throughout Europe. Exclusion from schools, jobs and social services is commonplace, and human rights groups have documented the practice of forced sterilizations.

A decade or so ago, as the Mutus recall, the first Roma family from their village announced that they were leaving for the United States. Word made its way back that the family had found great success — their children learned to speak perfect English, and they had become rich, though it wasn’t clear how. Over the years, more than a dozen other families followed, including Florentina’s older brother, who left a few years ago with his wife and three children. He had posted pictures on Facebook of palm trees, luxury car dealerships and American cash.

By the time their fifth child was born, the Mutus had settled into a system where they raised money elsewhere in Europe, begging and doing menial work, then came back for a few weeks at a time to Romania, where the money stretched further. They had occasional run-ins with police. Once, Mr. Mutu said, he was arrested for stealing cable from a construction site.

Though most of their children had been born at home, Constantin had to be delivered by C-section. Vasile sold two pigs and a cow to pay a doctor to do the procedure. In a haze of pain while she was in labor, Florentina signed documents that she couldn’t read. When she returned to the hospital for an appointment to check on her recovery, a hospital employee told her that the doctor had also performed a tubal ligation. She and her husband had planned to have more children, as is traditional in their culture. They were devastated.

Soon after, in between middle-of-the-night feedings of Constantin and while the rest of their children slept, Vasile and Florentina formed a plan: They would try to seek asylum in the United States with their two youngest children and send for the others when they were settled.

...Constantin was placed with a foster family in Michigan while Ms. Acevedo worked to connect with his parents. She got a phone number for his mother in Romania and made a video call during what was the middle of the night there. A disheveled woman answered, sitting in darkness, looking like she had just been woken up. She spoke frantically, but Ms. Acevedo couldn’t understand, so she pulled up Google Translate on her computer and typed a message about Constantin in English, which she then played in Romanian.

Florentina Mutu started to sob. She repeated her full maiden name, which was listed on Constantin’s birth certificate, over and over. “She said it like 20 times,” Ms. Acevedo said “She said, ‘Florentina Ramona Patu,’ and I said ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ I just wanted her to know that he was somewhere. He wasn’t lost or disappeared or something. I wanted her to know that he was with people.”

...Two months into his detention, an immigration officer came to Mr. Mutu with an offer. As he understood it, if he gave up his claim for asylum, he would be deported back to Romania with Constantin. He agreed, and on June 3, 2018, he was released from his cell and loaded into a van.

He looked everywhere for Constantin and asked the officers where his son was, but was not given a clear answer. At the airport, he refused to board without the baby. The immigration officers, he said, told him that Constantin would be handed to him once he had taken his seat. But the plane lifted off and the baby never came.

When Mr. Mutu arrived home, it felt more like walking into a funeral than a celebration.

...The baby’s foster mother meticulously documented his developments for Ms. Mutu, keeping in mind how hard it would be to miss moments like when he first scooted across the living room floor or developed the belly laugh that shook his whole body. “He would do new sounds or something, and they only do it for a short amount of time, and so you want his mom to be able to hear that,” she said. “And she always wondered if he had teeth yet, and so when he would smile, you could see. So I just wanted her to see that.”

She poured herself into caring for Constantin while she struggled to fathom how he had come into their home. “I can’t imagine being the person who grabs a hold of a child and takes them. I don’t know where you have to go in yourself to be able to do that job,” she said. “If we were in that situation, I would want someone to take care of my child. I would want them in a home, in a bed. I would want someone asking them, ‘What snack do you want before you go to bed at night? Do you want a pink toothbrush or a green toothbrush?’” she said. “Or rocking them in the middle of the night, helping them go back to bed when they have bad dreams.”

Constantin was still in diapers when he appeared in federal immigration court in Detroit, four months to the day after he had arrived in Michigan, on June 14, 2018. During the five-minute proceeding, he babbled on his foster mother’s lap as she sat on the defendant’s bench. His pro bono legal representative requested that he be returned to Romania as soon as possible at government expense.

A lawyer for the Department of Homeland Security argued against the request, stating that as an “arriving alien,” Constantin was not eligible for such help. The judge quickly ruled against her, questioning the idea “that the respondent should be responsible for making his own way back to Romania as an 8-month-old.” The judge granted the request made on behalf of Constantin, giving the government three months to either appeal or send him home.

...When Florentina and Constantin were reunited after five months of separation, he wanted his foster mother. 

...The Mutus, who are pursuing a claim for damages against the United States, are back in the village where they grew up, crammed temporarily into a small house they share with another family — one bathroom with no shower shared among 11 people. They bathe with cups of water warmed on the stove and keep their clothes in an attic, climbing a rickety ladder every few days in order to change them.

Constantin has acclimated slowly. He’s sensitive to loud noises, and crowds make him cry, which is a problem, says his mother, because both are part of Roma culture. “He is not the same as he would be if we had raised him,” she said.

At 18 months old, he still can’t walk without holding onto someone’s hand. He babbles and squeals, but as far as words go, she said, “He says absolutely nothing.”

After Constantin’s return to Romania, his foster parents took two months off from fostering to adjust to him being gone. Ms. Acevedo quit her job after all of the separated children on her caseload were reunited with their parents. “I just couldn’t get over it,” she said. “So if I couldn’t get over it, imagine the kids.”

...Both of the parents still dream out loud about returning to the United States. “I’d have to get to Canada,” Mr. Mutu said recently. ”From Canada, I could take a taxi to America, and pay seven or eight or ten thousand dollars to prepare the documents that I would need.”

Ms. Mutu’s brother, who has since returned from Florida, said he thinks they are deluded. He hated the United States, he said; it was full of struggling immigrants and other poor people. By then, he had admitted to them that he had ended up in a cramped, three-bedroom apartment shared with several other families, struggling to make the rent. The only food he could afford to eat, he said, was worse than what they had in Romania. “The laws are very strict there,” he said. “You can’t even beg there.”

“That’s not true,” Vasile Mutu shot back at the idea later. He had grown up looking at Americans — on television and now on social media — and saw their privilege not only in the way they dressed, but also how they moved and spoke, and in their expressions. The only poor people in America he saw were the ones who were detained with him at the border, hoping to get in.

[kantuck]

'None of us are free, if one of us are chained.'

'None of us are free, if one of us are chained.' By Kantuck Nadie Nata-akon Sunday, 11/20/18-s.09 --

The world? The world is not interested in us. Today, everything is possible, even the crematoria... Elie Wiesel, Night

The march was long, and tiring, but finally into a clearing we started seeing, or rather we started /smelling/. How can I describe the intense /stink/ of decay and rot. It was August 2113, and it was hot; 35c hot. Only the micro refrigeration units in our suits kept us cool enough to walk the eight kilometers. But gods it was like a foul cloud that slammed into us. It was all we could do to walk to where it was, and to stand outside the barbed wire. In a massive heap, was hundreds of bodies, rotting there in the sun. Vultures were still fighting over the scraps, with ditches full of putrid liquid just standing there like a fowl swamp.

Our leader "Sargent bull" the toughest and most loyal to his troops Sargent leaned against a tree, nearly passing out. What could I do? A private in this rag-tag Dirty Dozen? I checked the safely on my rail gun, flicked it on with a whine of power building up, and took point. We'd been told this camp was crawling with traps but it looked deserted. Lord knows, the company had spent a great deal of money camouflaging this entire area. But thanks to a 10-year-old martian boy who found the flaw that all the grownups overlooked. The power needed to holo-camouflage such large areas release a /lot of energy/ which is easily detectable from space. Guess he shouldn't have put that on the hypernet, since they found his body on Lucus Planum a week later; a bolt though his head. Once Bull recovered, he set off two robots, to scan the perimeter for to check for anything nasty -- other than the mass of decay. Guess we came into the wrong area, that must be the grave site.

Around us, aside from the piles of bodies was barbed and razor wire, on tall poles. A steady 'click' told us it was electrified. So couldn't get through there yet. There were rows and rows of wooden barracks. Neatly lined one after another. I saw a tall smokestack, build with bricks, and white smoke was pouring from it. I knew they had to be burning something but what? It was too hot to burn for heat, can't be documents. Then I started to notice that it was snowing...a revulsion ran though me, as that wasn't snow, but ash. I could tell it was from the smokestack, and it hit me finally what was burning...

Then there was movement.

Uplifts; hundreds of them slowly staggering out of the barracks. But they didn't look right. Some de-furred, some living skeletons. Infections pitting their bodies and some were coughing. Tails held down, with sunken eyes on tipped down muzzles. Deer like Cervinoids, Caniniods, from the loyal dogs, the giant equine Equinoids, all 3 species of the sims, even the feline Jaguarines and the wolf Lupiods. They gathered at the fence, not touching it but close enough telling us they want to meet us. Finally, Bull gave us the signal, that we could advance, "Go on, you grunts. Help 'em out. We gotta job to do. Move it, move it!" he barked.

Even after we opened the gate the uplifts just looked at us like it was another day. No one advanced to us or tried to leave. Those living skeletons just stared. I guess we were nose blind for many was covered in shit, and piss and yet we didn't smell 'em. But we could see and hear. Some of them were starting to assemble around us. Just staring. Finally, one Jaguarine shuffled up to me and asked, "what are you doing here?"He tilted his head, sniffing at me."Your not the guards."

I pointed to an insignia. A blue moon "We're here to get you out."

He growled at me, showing dangerous teeth and I leveled my rail at him amiss the sound of dozens of other rail guns powering up. "Back off," I said firmly.

He did, still growling but turning away. He wasn't in any mood for a fight. Finally a caniniod walked up and put his dirty paw on me as he asked "Leave?" with a tail started to wag cautiously, "We're going away?"

I dropped my gun down, knowing caniniods." Yeah, we're getting you out of here. This insanity is over."

"Leave?" he asked again. His ears perked up a bit, a tilt of the head.

He obviously couldn't believe, he was going away.

"Leaving"? He whined softly. Then he came up closer and put his arms around me. "Take me away?" his whines grew stronger.

I felt him shiver and shake. I couldn't help but to hug him lightly. "It's ok. We're going away. We're taking everyone home."

For 20 minutes we had to assure each one, that was going to happen. The sarge ordered in the trucks in and after an hour they started climbing on the trucks. Nurses, vets, all started helping the worse cases. I helped carry out dozens. One Chim reached up with his paw and wiped away the tears of regret and shame. When I looked down at him, I saw him mutter "thank you." Slowly they started to understand what I told the caniniod. "It was over."

I kept thinking "They're not human. Why are we here, risking our lives for them?" But when I looked into their eyes. The caniniod especially after all he endured he /still came up to a human, wanting nothing more than comfort./ I could see it. I knew it.

I remember something I read as a child, "The only reason for this treatment was that they were Jews." Yes, they weren't human. They were something we created, gave life too, /but by god they were   people/ and don't we fight for that?

In the days and months, The civil war continued. For the uplifts, all could be done was liberating them from camps, personal and familial slavery. But the war of emancipation had just started.

The end

[lahijadelmundo]

PARAGUAY – ÑAMONGARU

Ñamongaru – this is a word in the Guarani language, which is one of the national languages of Paraguay. It is being used when in conversation two people or more are agreeing on the same thing or have felt the same. The word can be used, and an action might follow after that. It might be also used to promise something.

The flag of Paraguay

The emotion of going back to Latin America after 4,5 years was indescribably big. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the fact that I will be there again, no matter what happens, was enough to make me really excited.

My friend Julia invite me on a Erasmus+ project, called “Entrepreneurship Skills 4 Youth” which was happening for 21 months now with various activities as job shadowing, training courses and youth exchanges between the countries of Spain, Italy, Paraguay, Uruguay, Belgium, Bulgaria, Chile and Argentina and financed completely by the European Commission. I was lucky to be part of the last training course in Calabria, Italy and now, on the final Conference and biggest youth exchange in Paraguay, where 5 participants of each country took part in.

Our group of 5 Bulgarians started the trip from Madrid, waking up at 5am to take a transatlantic flight with Air China. All good until the moment when we somehow realized (as the crew wasn´t speaking very well English?!) that the plane must go back as of hydraulic problems. So, after 3 hours of flight over the Atlantic Ocean we turned around to go back to Madrid. At some point there was water coming out from the fin of the airplane. The moment we landed the whole plane was applauding the pilot that he brought us back alive. (Although this manner with the final applause is usual among the Bulgarian population, every time it flies, curious fact, I think). The fact that we were at the point where we started was exhausting enough. After hanging for hours at the airport with no information and some vouchers for junk food, we were finally brought to a hotel where we were told to wait until the plain is fixed and we can fly again. It was a false alarm to pack again and jump into the bus again to take us to the airport, as we have found out, that the plain wasn´t fixed yet…. Back to do the line for check in in the hotel (let us not forget, that the whole plain was checking in in the hotel). At least we got some good sleep and in the morning we had to wait again (with no information provided, again). Later, the bus came and brought us to the airport.

Who would know that this initial, full of stress adventure, will mark our travels? Our friends from the project were joking, that we are bringing the bad luck in the group, but it was no joke that many more crazy and inconvenient things happened - we are laughing about the fact that someone cursed us (maybe not really consciously :D)

Our Bulgarian group in front of the waterfalls, Brazilian side

After many, many hours we finally reached the most gorgeous place in Paraguay -  the biological reserve Tatí Yupí.   It is situated in the district of Hernandarias, Alto Paraná Department and located on the right bank of the Paraná river. The reserve is one of 8 sites earmarked as the ecological reserve by the Itaipu, the largest dam in production in the world, located between Paraguay and Brazil. (The story about the dam later in this post!). When we arrived in the reserve, the only thing we wanted was to sleep. I really don´t remember the last time I went to bed at 9pm and the fact that there was a party and an opera singer in front of our dorm of 20 beds (top and down, unsecured and without a ladder) wasn´t bothering us much, we slept like babies. I woke up naturally at 5am because of the time difference and took a walk towards the river. So peaceful. I was thinking the whole time – I am in heaven. After a chaotic everyday life in a polluted and frenetic big city, being in Tatí Yupí felt like magic to me and something I have been waiting for a long time now. I went to the river dock where at 5:30 I saw the sunrise watching towards Paraná river. I wished I could stay at least for a month in this paradise, but as you know not all wishes come true because of various reasons. We enjoyed for a pretty short time the wild, gorgeous mammals walking around freely (like monkeys and coatis) and the amazing subtropical flora, as we had to go back to reside in Ciudad del Este in a random hotel. Now the reasons for that I will spear, as the whole story pisses me off. :D

Coatis in their natural habitat

Ciudad del Este has nothing much to impress with, as it is an industrial city with much of a trading activity as a border town to Argentina and Brazil. I need to always remind myself, that Ciudad del Este does not represent whole Paraguay, as much difficult it is to imagine that, as we have spent most of the time there. We had some fun nights out and got closer with all participants day by day. We had some great dynamics of getting to know each other, starting with games to remember our names and continuing playing games all night in the reserve.  After our first night out, we stayed until sunrise, still drinking, went straight away to breakfast and then woke up to go to the Itaipu dam.  As mentioned before, this is the largest hydroelectric dam on the Paraná River located on the border between Brazil and Paraguay. We went there at midday, all pretty tired from last night, after waiting quite some time again, we realized, that we were late to catch the latest day visit of the dam. (It is important to mention, that all things, that failed to happen on this trip, were mostly because we were late for some reasons as f.e. the drivers were always late or (spoiler alert!) never appeared :D). Most of the group decided to go back to the hotel to take a rest, before we can visit the dam at night and some of us stayed on a cute little beach called Costanera de Hernandarias where we saw the sunset and had the chance to relax. 

Costanera de Hernandarias

Тhat moment of rest was like a sip of fresh air, as our program continued being filled up with activities and we all wanted to spend as much time as we could together. We were still very tired as we came back to the point to see the light show at the electric dam. And we still waited. I was craving to sleep already; the exhaustion was huge. We were loling so hard after the “breathtaking” light show that lasted no more than couple of minutes and for which we waited literally all day long.

Itaipu Dam

But HEY, this is Paraguay. We have been training our patience big time, as waiting turned out to be the national sport there. We also had a motto “No tengo ni idea” Which means – “I have literally no idea”. That was the most probable answer to many of the questions asked in general. As much as we learned to don´t get angry if something is not functioning, the fact, that we missed out 2 nights of partying just to get up very early, so that we can go the Iguazu falls and the bus organized for us did not come at all, was frustrating so all the hopes, all the plans, all the waiting… in the garbage bin :D

The day we managed to reach the Argentinian side of the waterfalls started with almost no waiting (just 20 minutes) and everything seemed wonderful by then. (About the majesty and the natural wonder itself embodied by the waterfalls I will dedicate my next blog post, because the falls and their charm deserved to be described separately.) 

Iguazu Falls

The moment we did the boat tour, though, it started raining. Really hard. At some point it even started to hail. We were just having bikinis and light clothing on, as you get completely wet under the waterfalls. It was a slight storm in the river, even the boat needed to stop, as nothing was visible. All of us were covering our bodies with the waterproof bags we had, where we have put our valuables – the only thing which helped to cover us a bit. At some moment I was just taking deep breaths and was thinking “relax, it is going to be ok”.  We saw some caimans relaxing on the sand while we were disembarking the boat, thinking “hmmm, we would have made a nice breakfast for these buddies if the boat turned down occasionally”. We reached the starting position, but as the rain did not stop for a very long time we boarded an off-road bus which was the only way to go back, so half an hour more in the pouring rain while in the bus. (That was a roofless bus). And THAT was kind of crazy. No, wait a minute. That was beyond crazy. We were shouting pumped up with adrenaline to feel less the cold. My body was already shaking big time. The moment we dropped off my friend Maria and I gave up on the last part of the tour as we were soaking wet and the only thing we dreamt of was warmth and drought. We bought a T-Shirt as a souvenir, but that was more like a saving lives thing, as the most of us have not planned to take extra clothes. Finally, couple of hours later, when we made ourselves on the way home, some strange “eco-tourism” guys in Argentina stopped the bus and told us that all foreigners have to pay a certain fee, just because of the fact that we are foreigners. All the information provided was peculiar enough for us to refuse to pay, which caused unfortunately more circumstances as the police came and told the driver that he was lacking some documents of the bus, so the vehicle has to be let there and we were thrown out short before the Brazilian border with no idea how to get back to Paraguay (to go back there one shall still cross Brazilian border first in order to cross the so called Friendship Bridge to get to Ciudad del Este). In this crisis situation we were told from our organisators to walk toward a hotel in the middle of nowhere in a forest during the night and to wait there until cars will pick us up. We did not know whether to cry or laugh after all this. As it was somehow an extreme situation, there were tensions between us, but this is normal, when people are not used to situation like this, they have difficulties to stay calm. After we got some water, food and blankets in this hotel we felt again like humans and almost knew how a refugee feels like. The top of the cake was, that when we reached after hours our hotel, our suitcases were left in the Tatí Yupí reserve, as it was planned for us to reach there by night on the first place. There was no chance to go there for one reason or another (``no tengo ni idea``), so practically we stayed in the hotel with the soaked clothes we had on until the next day, when our stuff was brought back.

In the end of our stay, after saying emotional goodbyes, our Bulgarian group was brought the last to the bus station (respectively waited the longest :D), as we needed to catch a bus to Foz do Iguaçu. It turned out, that we have missed the last bus to the city. Nothing can surprise us anyways after all what we have been through. But bad things happen for good, at the end our organizer payed us a taxi to reach our hosts - we have split in two groups and did couch surfing. The half of us had a good experience, the other half landed in a miserable, stinky place with no windows, full of fleas and dogs barking, with a miserable one sofa for two people to sleep on. They have switched to a hostel after getting uber twice -  first to get to our place to get some WiFi and secondly to reach the hostel. The next day the other half of us booked the hostel as well to stay together. Marco das Tres Fronteiras, Eating Açaí Icecream and visiting the local gasolinera for a night party was on the program that last day for us in Brasil.

Marco das Tres Fronteiras 

The journey ended as it started though, I had to wake up after 2.5 hours of sleep and catch a plain from Foz to São Paulo, where I waited for 10 hours to catch a 10 hours transatlantic flight to Madrid, to wait there 12 hours again to catch a 4 hours Ryan Air flight to Sofia. It was soooooo surreal reaching Sofia, it was hard realizing where we were. And don’t ask me how we survived. Worst part was that our Friend Julia had to stay in São Paulo for one more day, as they fucked up something with her flight. Oh, not to forget as well, that they have switched her bag with the bad of another friend, while checking in so she stayed there with her stuff flying away towards Europe.

Hard to believe that all this and much more happened during last two weeks and it was hard to come back to cold Sofia, without all this 40 wonderful people around. These stories above are fun to tell, but the sensationalism will fade with  with time. As one of our Spanish friends said – the people have marked me more than all the mud in the ecological reserve (and this mud does not wash away, by the way). I feel the best when I am in a multicultural environment, it just feels home. All the obstacles and problems we had made us more united, closer and stronger. Despite the extreme situations and all the suffering, we created an amazing and strong connection and this will surely be the seed to something great in the future. All of us had something to give an teach to the rest and it was a remarkable experience overall!!!

Our lovely group

I want to learn Guarani or another indigenous language! I want to learn how to animate a big group of people!  I want to learn how to empower local youth and give it sense of belonging! I want to learn how to create things with my own hands! I want to deepen my knowledge in intercultural communication! I want to learn more about the cities of the future and to get even more familiar with the digital word and social entrepreneurship! I want to meet again all these wonderful people, learn and share with them! I will never forget the awesome moments we had. After all, going back to Latin America has covered my expectations and left me with inspiration and excitement about mutual future projects, that we might work on together.

I am sipping out from my tereré (infusion of yerba mate, similar to mate but prepared with cold water and ice rather than with hot, and in a slightly larger vessel) right now, feeling in the past days and I just want to to say to all my new encounters: “Te veo y veo la belleza, que hay en ti.  Ñamongaru.”

Tereré

[prorevenge]

Throw me under a bus to CTO and CEO? I throw you out of country.

warning: long story. tl:dr at the end.

My prorevenge story is from earlier in my career when I was a team lead of 20 people and was accountable for one of the core product lines company sold. Company was a tech startup and was in process of disrupting sector we were in. So much so that our parent company, a huge global conglomerate bought us out right as we were growing into mid size. Parent company invested hundreds of millions of dollars to try to hypergrow the business after buyout which also costed them hundreds of millions of dollars. We’re talking fuck ton of money.

Now back to my revenge story. In tech startup, infrastructures is often given just enough money and love to be just good enough to keep things alive. If you make it out of early stage and have a growing business then you pay your dues and put in some serious work to get your infrastructure to be more sustainable and scalable like a start of a real business. Or you suffer the consequences and slow the growth of the company in wide degreeing of severity. Our company just hit that stage and required major overhaul or business was going to suffer greatly. I’m talking like slowing our growth by 50% because that’s what was told to us as why this is now #1 priority for everyone involved. To take care of the overhaul SVP of IT was put in charge by the new CTO to get this done. SVP of IT being ‘busy’, he put his top lieutenant whom I shall call Asshat to run point on it.

Issue is that Asshat’s boss, SVP of IT and Asshat were both incompetent to do the job and was only able to survive so far because old CTO. Old CTO plus Asshat + Asshat’s boss joined the company early, stuck with it, received promotions for loyalty by founders which is what they should get. Problem is that these three weren’t seasoned vets in tech nor had the right potential to grow fast with fast growing company. Basically they were noobs who got lucky. In addition the founders weren’t tech savy so they didn’t realize this to make the changes. Eventually old CTO cashed out as part of buyout and the new CTO just started.

Back to infrastructure overhaul. Asshat made the decision to build out this new infra in parallel and when ready, everyone will switch over to new infrastructure. Problem was that none of this was communicated properly or often, updates were shared infrequently with development and product management teams. With hundreds of millions of dollars pouring in, new sales opportunities through our parent company, we in development and product were barely keeping up with insane velocity the company was growing. So whatever few noises Asshat made about the project on the rare occasions he did. It got quickly buried in our mind as we tried to survive the onslaught of onboarding and servicing new customers, launching new products, hiring new staff, training new staff, etc.

Fast forward sometime in future and out of the blue, we were notified by Asshat to start testing the new infrastructure. This infuriated all of us because being told (not asked) by Asshat to suddenly test new infrastructure meant we had to somehow find time when we were barely keeping up with business demands by busting ass and working late. Only way find time to test was to either ask/make some of our guys work longer and we were already overworking just so we can keep up with business demands. It really sucked but we gritted our teeth and got into it to. After all, growth of company could take hit hard as 50% if we didn’t. Soon as we started using and testing the new infra, it became very apparent that while new infra is better than old...it was only marginally better and required significant amount of tweaking + heavy duty testing before we can even consider when to start switching over the new infra.

Asshat started freaking out and said that’s bullshit, new infra is good, we’re lying, I got some office political motive, so forth, Asshat and his team tested it already number of times, performance looks great compared to old stuff, blah blah. Reason for his freak out was that before he asked us to test, Asshat already informed his boss, SVP of IT a cutover date who then informed the CTO that they have a date already set. CTO then informed the CEO of the date and both CTO & CEO told our board the date. By this time new CTO wasn’t so new and was thinking about reorganizing his upper management team to operate at what he thought would be better suited for the company. While SVP of IT and Asshat sucked at their job, they weren’t stupid and had a solid game of office politics. They knew they committed a date, if they drop the ball, they would be let go for sure as part of reorg, and it’d be difficult or them to find a job of this level at any other company of this growth + $$$.

So what happened was that despite my concerns and challenges that we weren’t going to hit the date with what they built. Asshat and SVP of IT who is now involved because his ass is now on the line, started to try to strongarm me with their hard influence of SVP and Director authority to get my team to do the tweaks which is their fucking job. When they realized they couldn’t because I don’t report to them and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to burn my team any further, they switched to office politics and started to throw me under a bus to CTO and CEO in closed doors saying I wasn’t being a team player, stopping my own team from collaborating with them to make the launch of new infras success, I’m single handedly jeopardizing the date. Which also infuriated my boss, SVP of Eng because she got sucked into it. This all made my working life more miserable and on top, my review was a stake.

I hated office politics and this was the last straw for me with Asshat and his douche boss. Instead of defending myself politically, I went into doomsday prepper mode getting ready for the revenge. Any free time I had at work and outside of work, I spent prepping, it was literally part time job on top of my insane work schedule. I gathered up treasure troves of data and documentations of captured performance metrics, various test results, my own project & staffing & risk mgt plan if I were in charge to salvage this infra program, my version of rollout & rollback plan, etc. etc. All of this wasn't possible just by myself so I begged, bribed (food), called in favors at work of people whom I trusted to gather some for me by taking actions like running loadtests overnight.

Days passed and Doomsday came. CTO called for the meeting with Asshat, my boss, and I to determine what the fuck is up. SVP of IT wasn’t able to attend on this day for reasons I long forget. During the meeting, Asshat started to go full out on me on how I am failing, screwing the company and him over, I don't know my shit, I fucked over dates that was committed to the CEO + Board, etc. Too bad for him that my boss, has been pissed for a while because initially Asshat and SVP of IT skipped her by talking to CTO and CEO directly. She started to immediately fire back at the Asshat. I didn’t say shit for first several minutes as Asshat and my boss duked it out. CTO stopped the verbal combat and asked me for my 2 cents. I whipped out my doomsday prepper package. Said give me sec to email everyone what I put together and asked the CTO to put it up on his monitor for us to all see so I can walk everyone through on what I prepped.

New CTO was a seasoned vet of tech scene and he quickly sniffed out that what I had shown and talked about were legit. Asshat was getting riled up even more and started to attack me on personal level. CTO said STFU in nice professional words, told Asshat to revisit the milestone dates and to come back with a real date because he, CTO will take the heat for this and will update the CEO + board that new infra is delayed. He also asked my boss if she could loan me out to get this done with Asshat as his peer and that his door is open to me for any help needed (I was mid level line mgr, Asshat was upper mgt as director). After that he asked me to leave.

Eventually we got the new infra ready and we cut over, minor hiccups but it was smooth for most part. During this time, I landed a new gig at another company and left shortly after. CTO had an hour long exit interview with me and I unloaded about Asshat, SVP of IT about their behavioral issues, which could be looked over to certain degree if they were good at their job which they weren’t and how they were costing company money, used this infra project as key example of days lost on dev productivity and business growth, how they office politic'd good people out in their own org and some devs, etc. etc. CTO thanked me and let me go.

Couple months pass and I got a call from my old boss, SVP of Eng. We met up for coffee and she shared with me what transpired after my separation. CTO executed his re-org, Asshat was fired and because he couldn’t find another job within timeframe, he had to leave the country. I was dumbfounded because I had no fucking idea Asshat was here on work visa. As for SVP of IT, founders stopped CTO from firing him but agreed on transfer to parent company. Prior to transfer CTO backchannelled with people he knew at parent company to arrange that SVP of IT was just SVP of IT in title and had no real team, no real responsibilites. SVP of IT basically ended up in rubber room. Holy shit did it make my day. Best part is years later, I came across SVP of IT at a meetup and dude wouldn’t even acknowledge me I was alive hahaha.

tl;dr

Overworking mid level line manager gets thrown under bus to CTO and CEO by Director and SVP of IT on critical project. Affects my work life and upcoming review. I prepared portfolio of data and documents to prove them otherwise.

Director and SVP of IT are proven wrong. Director gets fired, was apparently on visa and has to leave country. SVP of IT gets transferred and ends up in worthless role

(source) (story by throwaway19808012390)

[buttonholedlife]

Minsk Nightlife Report: A Look At The Growing Techno Scene In “Europe’s Last Dictatorship” | Telekom Electronic Beats

A new Belarusian underground is taking form. Despite limited resources and almost zero tourism, Minsk, Belarus has become a party haven, building an otherworldly and in-demand electronic music scene in the span of just a few years.  On weekends, clubs like OK16, Lo-Fi Social Club and HIDE draw seemingly endless crowds of dancers. Events bend genre, time and place, using Minsk’s wealth of abandoned buildings to host dynamic events that carry on deep into the morning. As Belarus liberalizes and opens its borders for visa-free entry, local music collectives like Mechta, Grave Board Clan and Bassota have their eyes on the world.

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Searching for Minsk’s famed Kastryčnickaja street, one would be forgiven for thinking they took a wrong turn somewhere down the line. The city center, which lies about 20 minutes away by walking, is famous for its immaculate streets and towering communist architecture, much of which still bearing the stars, hammers and sickles of the Soviet period. As the lights of the city fade, however, a new Minsk emerges. Communist constructions are replaced with vacant, muraled warehouses. A teenager pours beer from a large plastic bottle into paper cups, tucking the arrangement into his jacket at the sight of a police car. Someone is playing a “Tokyo Drift” remix so loudly that windows down the block shake with every 808 kick. While much of Minsk is quiet by 10 p.m., here, the night has only just begun.

Coverage of Minsk, as limited as it is, tends to focus on Belarus’ relative isolation on the world stage. After the fall of the Soviet Union, Belarus aligned with Russia, limiting tourism and largely preserving the structures put in place under communism. But as the nation’s relationship with Russia faces heightened tensions, Belarus has turned its face westward, opening its borders for 30-day visa-free travel, expanding its local information technology sector to western European investors, and even playing host to the second annual European Games this past June. As one anonymous dancer shared over the ironically melancholic thump of dark disco track, “Since last year, everything is different now. Everything is new.” HIDE might be one of the best exemplifications of this newfound Belarusian spirit. Celebrating its first party in March of this year, Minsk’s alternative scene has taken to the club as a destination to both dance and experience the breadth of local culture. On weekends, HIDE hosts electronic music events featuring DJs and other musicians; during the week, the space can take the role of a gallery, with occasional performances by dancers, poets and other creatives. 

Sergei Mikhalkevich, the owner and primary force behind HIDE, first started throwing parties in Belarus a decade ago. Back then, he says, event hosting was a completely different experience: a mess of permits, location scouting, lighting and sound rentals in a city that was still building its understanding of electronic music “It was very difficult, because it was necessary to adapt to the conditions of each place,” remembers Mikhalkevich, “and you could not guess which system you would need [for each party].” Navigating these struggles hardened Mikhalkevich’s resolve, making him more determined to cut through the city’s red tape and make Minsk’s parties accessible to everyone. His persistence helped him develop a following, and Mikhalkevich quickly became a trusted voice in the small but growing world of Belarusian techno. 

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Mikhalkevich’s efforts came at just the right time. Other collectives appeared, throwing parties of their own in the city’s various bars and disused warehouses. Bassota, now one of the most prominent bass music collectives in Minsk, was among this founding group of promoters, and it hosted its first events five years ago. Those days were humble: a simple turntable-and-PA setup on the street outside a bar. Today, the crew’s parties bring in crowds numbering over a thousand. Egor Kipah, a founding member of Bassota, is something of an oral historian for Minsk’s electronic music scene. Born in the city, Kipah spent his early twenties teaching English in China, only returning to Belarus occasionally to renew his visa. China offered him an expansive world of underground music, dance and culture; Belarus, in contrast, had “nothing.”

“I came back, and there was no place to listen to bass music, no place to party. I thought, we can make something. And we actually did,” Kipah says with a smile. Parties like those hosted by Mikhalkevich and Bassota eventually convened around Kastryčnickaja Street, a former industrial district left in ruin following the collapse of the Soviet Union. The abundance of abandoned factories meant opportunity: big spaces, room for expansion and—crucially—no neighbors.  In Kipah’s telling, Kastryčnickaja Street’s cultural explosion traces back to Huligan, a bar that, when it opened in 2013, was the first of its kind on the street. The bar became a much-needed home base for the alternative crowd, hosting concerts and street parties in conjunction with groups like Bassota. Soon, spaces began popping up in the area’s available nooks and crannies. OK16, a cultural center sponsored by the Belarusian Belgazprombank, and one of the first spaces to draw international attention to Minsk’s music scene, made its home in the roomy MZOR plant near the street’s end. Lo-Fi Social Club, a venue, workspace, and tattoo shop, has an even more peculiar location; getting there means traveling to the opposite end of the Kastryčnickaja Street, cutting behind the nearby Belarus State University dorms, venturing past a gated fence and carrying on until the graffiti-laden building is in sight. For outsiders, complications like these may dissuade. For locals, it’s what makes their scene their own. Seeing this growth, Mikhalkevich knew that settling his parties in a single location could bring success to the burgeoning Belarusian techno scene. When the opportunity came to buy a former factory space on the now-booming street, he jumped. 

“There were no techno clubs in Belarus, and when I found a great location, I decided to open [HIDE],” he says. Doing this allowed him to avoid the pitfalls that plagued earlier parties. “In your own club, you know how your sound sounds, where there are sound traps, how you can emphasize the dignity of a DJ depending on their music style,” he explains. Even with Mikhalkevich’s industry experience, settling into the club was a learning process. “It was a warehouse, a non-residential premises in an old factory… [and] we rented a room completely without communications. We did not have a deferred payment on rent, and all the time while the repair was going on we had to pay…It was very expensive in terms of finances.” After all of this trouble, HIDE’s opening night was still “disastrous,” admits Mikhalkevich. “Because of the vast space, the sound resonated terribly…The dust of construction hadn’t settled down yet, so it just hung in the air.” Soon, however, the parties found their groove, and just a few months later, HIDE is a staple destination in the Minsk electronic scene. “These are the people who have been going to my parties for many years. And now they have a place where they are always welcome, where they can listen to their favorite music and dance. Around us is only office space, so we have no problems with neighbors. We had no fights with the government, either,” Mikhalkevich notes. “At the beginning of the work, there were checks, but we had a complete order with all the documents—we were ready for all the checks.” The topic of official oversight is one broached carefully. Belarus holds a controversial position internationally, with criticism levied against the government’s authoritarian style and lack of independent media. Concerning the latter, coverage of Minsk’s electronic music scene within the country is sparse, and local promoters rely instead on their own means of distributing information to bring in crowds.

Amassing audiences through social networks like Telegram, VK and Instagram, organizers boost events to followers around Belarus and beyond. Bassota’s Telegram group, which claims almost three thousand members, sends near-daily updates ranging from party promotions to new releases and DJ mixes. HIDE keeps similarly active on Instagram, pushing events through both stories and posts before sharing videos the morning after. “We can send a message out like, ‘Hey, we are having a party tonight,’ and we will fill that party,” explains Kipah. “At the same time, we talk to other similar promoters, like, oh, we are having a party then, you have your party later, so no one throws parties at the same time.” This solidarity is a big part of the Minsk scene, Kipah claims. To that end, Bassota’s Telegram serves as a promotional tool for not only the collective, but the Minsk party scene as a whole. A quick look through their feed offers listings ranging from the group’s own shows at OK16 to other events at Lo-Fi Social Club, Huligan Bar, HIDE and other spaces. “We are creating a musical community,” notes Aslamin, a producer and organizing member of Bassota, “one that promotes interesting, impactful parties — not just places to drink or get off.”  Their mission is taking hold. By midnight on Friday, Kastryčnickaja Street is a flurry of activity, with teens and twenty-somethings socializing and playing music in the lines that extend from nearly every venue. Among these venues is HIDE where, despite the cold, a sizeable crowd has gathered, waiting in the courtyard with IDs in hand for the bouncer to wave them in. This courtyard has proven one of HIDE’s biggest strengths. Its size means modularity, and the club can shift and restructure to fit the needs of each party. For Bassota’s 50-hour five year anniversary event earlier this year, the HIDE courtyard hosted garage and house DJs alongside displays from local fashion brands. Tonight, even as the temperature dips to near-freezing, a portion of the outdoor area is enclosed and given turf flooring, providing jacketed dancers with another place to step. Inside, the main floor is spacious, decorated in the same muraled style that composes the majority of Kastryčnickaja Street. A disco ball sits on the DJ booth while pennants hang from above, casting shadows and shimmering reflections as the space floods with light and fog. As Instagram and Telegram brought the dancers to the floor, they have a marked presence in the club, at least at the beginning of the evening. The young crowd takes photos and videos, reporting back to jealous friends or others on the way. Some come and go, making stops at the many other parties on Kastryčnickaja Street that evening. But as the night continues, the crowd stabilizes, and phones become less and less present. Dancers, clad in black and glitter, have their heads up, moving to the evolving beat. The DJ drops a classic Italo disco track, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

“People coming from abroad have love for our club,” Mikhalkevich says, “but the return from the Belarusian community is not always felt.” On the outdoor floor, a few dancers are hesitant, standing to the side while the DJ transitions into an acid house track. Minsk has gone from having no underground party venues to a whole city’s worth in just under two years, and as a result, some stops and starts are to be expected. Still, the crowd sticks around, and its numbers remain strong until daybreak. Daylight marks the end of the party, but the night is not over. Some line up at a nearby 24-hour coffee and sandwich shop to refuel; others sit with their heads in their hands, fighting sleep as they wait for the bus to bring them back to the city. Music still plays, but it has become faint, a needed respite before the street’s inevitable reignition later that afternoon.  “The Belarus scene has made a huge step forward in recent years,” Aslamin remarks. When he is not organizing with Bassota, Aslamin works with a program teaching young girls music production software, just one of several educational initiatives that now exist in the city. “Our scene is really unique in its energy and atmosphere, and we now have a number of interesting DJs, artists, producers and people who are truly passionate about music trying to make Minsk even better.”  Asked about his goals for HIDE, Mikhalkevich takes a second. “I would really like people in Belarus to begin to understand the atmosphere of techno, to understand the music and catch that state where you and the music become one.” He admits, “That is more a dream, not a goal.”

Special thanks to Olga Ovchinnikova for her work on this piece as a translator.

This content was originally published here.

[notrefined]

Foreign Service Oral Assessment

Back in October, I took the FSOA (Foreign Service Oral Assessment) – one of the last major hurdles to becoming a Foreign Service Officer for the United States (and, arguably, the most difficult one to get through). And, miracle of miracles, I passed! 

Things have changed since then, both for me personally and for the State Department as a whole, so it’s looking less and less like a potential career path. But! When I was preparing for the FSOA, reading through other people’s accounts was super helpful to me. I wrote this up on the train out of D.C. and now, several months later, here I am sharing it for any would-be future foreign service officers. Enjoy!

Wow wow wow, you guys. WOW.

So I just passed the Foreign Service Oral Assessment!!! With a 5.9 out of 7.0, which might not sound all that exciting but really, really is. If I take the language assessment in Russian and pass, I’ll have above a 6.0! CRAZY.

I know that a lot of my readers are travel enthusiasts, many of whom are considering careers abroad (whether it be with Peace Corps or Foreign Service), so I thought I would break down the process a little bit for anyone who’s looking for tips. This will be NDA compliant, so no details, but it’ll just give you an idea of how I prepared and what was going through my mind.

They cancelled the San Francisco testing this year, meaning I flew out to Washington D.C. for my interview. Unfortunately, my brain was still on West Coast time – not helpful – so between that and pre-testing jitters I got maybe three hours of sleep total before the exam. Would highly recommend not doing that. I stayed in a hotel in downtown Washington, pretty close to the testing site, so I wouldn’t have far to go in the morning.

The letter said to arrive at 6:45 a.m., so I walked over there at 6:30 a.m. to be safe. There were a few other FSO candidate who had the same idea. We filled out paperwork and chatted about our backgrounds, and I can tell you that everyone in that room had amazing life experience and crazy cool qualifications. I, of course, was a gigantic bundle of nerves.

I had a longer route to the FSOA than is usual, I think – I took the test in June 2015, passed the QEP, then postponed my Oral Assessment for a year while I ran off and did Peace Corps again in Ukraine. So I’ve had rather a lot of life experiences since I first submitted my resume. With that in mind, I brought a copy of my Description of Service (DOS), which documents all the projects and activities I did as a PCV in Ukraine. I have no idea if the assessors looked at it or not, but I did give it to the very kind woman at the front desk, and she attached it to my application.

Group Exercise

After waiting for maybe an hour or two, we finally started the Group Exercise. There were nine of us total and they split us into a group of five and a group of four. I was in the group of four with three other very nice gentlemen. They sit you down, they give you your binders, they shut the door; Boom. Start reading.

I’ve read that the Group Exercise tends to cause the most anxiety in would-be test takers, but this is honestly the part that I worried about the least. We had thirty minutes to go through our packets. There’s a lot of information, of course, but if you prioritize then you can get through the more essential stuff pretty quickly.

First of all, read the letter from the ambassador, and look for any particular instructions or criteria that you should use when making decisions. This will help keep you on track when you’re getting into the discussion phase.

I put all my information into a chart that turned out to be indispensable. I split it up into Title, Description, Resources/Funding, Criteria (U.S. interests, CBA, Support, & Local Culture), Positives, & Negatives. Any questions I had, I wrote on a separate sheet of paper. This chart ended up being super helpful for keeping track of other candidates’ projects, and for making comparisons. I still had some time left over after I had gone through everything, so I actually wrote out the beginning of my presentation, just so I could get my thoughts in order and make sure I’d get off to a good start.

The assessors entered and took up their positions in the corners of the room, as expected. Thus began the presentation phase. Our group worked really well together, I thought – nobody advocated their project, we all presented very clearly and asked helpful questions at the end. I made sure to ask a question of every presentation. My group mates actually asked a lot of questions of me, and I was able to answer them thoughtfully and thoroughly, which I think helped my score in this section.

After that, we were given our new set of instructions: Here’s the memo, you have twenty minutes, and this is your budget. Go.

It was very clear from the beginning that my project would not receive full funding, so I soon switched my advocacy to partial funding of one of my initiatives. It came down to two other projects. The hardest thing in that scenario, honestly, is finding ways to participate when two other projects are duking it out. You can’t stay silent because the assessors are looking to hear your thought process, but other people have all the information. I did my best to ask questions, think out loud, and be a deciding voice. In the end, I was the one to write the memo. I finished the last sentence just as the assessor called “time.” Group exercise complete!

After this came the part that I absolutely was not expecting. One by one, we were pulled into another room for a “debrief.” There, the “ambassador” asked me rapid-fire questions about our decision making process. It was a good thing that I made that chart and had taken all those notes, because otherwise I might not have remembered enough about the projects! Nothing I had read mentioned this part of the FSOA, so I was a bit blindsided, but I think I was able to answer intelligently and thoroughly.

Waiting Game

I think the hardest part of the day was all the waiting. When we were actually doing the exercises, I felt calm and focused, ready to tackle any challenge. But then they put you back out in the main room to stand around for an hour or so, and all the doubt and nausea start creeping back in. I spent a lot of time walking in circles and examining the art on the walls.

We finished the Group Exercise, and all nine of us returned to the waiting room. I think we had a really good group of people. Everyone was excited to be there, most of us were taking the assessment for the first time, and everyone had fascinating stories to tell. The atmosphere was so supportive – camaraderie instead of competition. I was convinced at this point that most of us would pass.

Half of us wandered off to do the Case Management exercise, while the other half waited a while longer to start our Structured Interviews. Soon enough, they called us back, put us each in a different room, and told us to – surprise, surprise – wait.

Structured Interview

This exercise is the one that’s the most similar to a regular job interview. It was also the one I was the most terrified of. I had rehearsed at home, of course, and had my arsenal of stories prepared that would show off the 13 dimensions, but as I sat on my chair in that room they all flew out of my head. I had nada. Why did I want to be a political officer, again?

I took a deep breath, poured myself a glass of water, and refocused. I wanted to be a political officer because… Taking a second to run through a couple answers in my head helped me get back in the right mindset, and remind myself that I can do this.

Soon, my two assessors came in and sat down opposite me. They are not kidding when they say that they’re going to remain stonefaced the whole time. I knew to expect it, though, and I’ve also lived in Ukraine, where stonefaced is a way of life. It didn’t really phase me much.

The Structured Interview starts off with the motivation and experience section, followed by the hypotheticals (i.e. the specific part that I was dreading), followed by questions based on the 13 dimensions. The experience and motivation sections are identical to any job interview. They take preparation, of course, but you can kind of figure out through common sense what to expect.

The hypotheticals are awful. There’s no way around it. You don’t have time to think, you don’t have enough information to go on, and you can’t take notes so you inevitably forget things. I had some tricks to make it a little easier, but I wasn’t quite happy with any of my answers.

Every time I was given a scenario, I first audibly stated my priorities. This may have started to sound a little routine, three hypotheticals in, but it helped show my thought process and honestly helped me figure out where I was going to go from there. I also put an emphasis on communication – with Washington, with my supervisor, with host country nationals, with my peers, etc. – and confirming information before acting. Finally, I suggested a course of action for each one. It’s easy to lose sight of that last bit when your brain is trying to juggle all this stuff, but you really should make a suggestion. Even better if you have a backup suggestion to go with it.

I have no idea how I did on this section. They don’t give you that kind of information. But I did my best, and that’s all you can really hope for!

Last but not least, I was asked a series of questions relating to the 13 Dimensions. Here, honestly, I got lucky. I had prepared a story to go with each dimension, but the questions that came up allowed me to really shine and give some great examples from my life. It could have easily gone the other way – I could have gotten questions that stumped me and spent the last 20 minutes just stammering inaudibly at the examiners – but they just happened to line up perfectly. I did have to make up one answer on the fly, but it ended up being a pretty good answer, I think.

Finally, they gave me a moment to say something at the end. I didn’t really prepare anything for this. I wish I had. I suggest you do.

More Waiting, Dear God

I think you know what happened here. Also, lunch break! That worked in my favor, because I was so nervous in the morning that I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything for breakfast (I also recommend you don’t do that). Then, we came back in, and it was time for the Case Management exercise.

Case Management

I had looked through a couple mock-Case Management Exercises on the Yahoo FSOA Group boards, and I’m quite glad I did. Reading through people’s sample memos helped me plan in advance how I would format things.

The binder they gave us was pretty meaty and had a lot of information in it, much of it conflicting. The first thing I did was read the letter from the ambassador and identify exactly what questions I was supposed to be answering. I referred back to this multiple times throughout the exercise. I also used those questions to create headers and structure my memo. This helped me keep it readable and organized later on.

Once I had my questions that needed answering, I went about reading through all of the information and taking notes. Answers to my questions started popping out at me. My original plan was to do all my outlining and then start typing, but it was more convenient for me to answer the questions one at a time. That way I could move on to the parts that still needed support.

All-in-all, I used the entire two pages, and I think I wrote a pretty solid memo. I didn’t spend any time on “Dear Ambassador, Hope you’re having a lovely day”-type stuff. I just got straight into it. Everything recommendation I made had reasoning to back it up, and I made sure to throw in an alternate suggestion to my suggestion (while explaining why my original suggestion was still better). Once I had made all my major recommendations, I went through and filled in extra detail – for instance, there was one part of the binder that raised a separate, secondary issue. I made sure to cover all my essential points before I went back and addressed it.

One thing I did that helped me, I think, is that I threw in some calculations of my own. There were a few different data points provided, and I did some basic number-crunching that added percentages and statistics to my memo. I can’t do much more than long division and elementary-level addition without a calculator. I even had to practice them the night before. But this was my chance to demonstrate that I’m comfortable with “quantitative analysis,” as the 13 Dimensions say, and I showed that I was capable.

(P.S. On my computer, at least, there was spellcheck.)

The Case Management exercise was one that I was profoundly dreading, but in the end, I think I felt the best about this segment of the FSOA. I did notice one cringeworthy error when I printed it out (if only I had change that one word, argh) but all-in-all, I felt I had created a well-written and well-reasoned memo.

The Final Wait

Lordy, at this point I was just grateful that it was over. I had done what I could. It was out of my hands. Someone mentioned that there was another group of people testing somewhere else on our floor, but I never saw them, and I’m not sure where they could have been hiding. The nine of us, though, hung around and chatted and watched terrible Trump interviews on CNN while we waited to be called back. I think we waited for over an hour. I drank a lot of water.

I had read somewhere before (and one of my group mates also mentioned) that the first person called back is usually a fail, and the last person standing usually passed. So when my name was called first, my heart sank. Oh well, I thought, it was a learning experience, at least I know what to expect for next time, c’est la vie.

I walked into the room and before I could even sit down, the assessor was shaking my hand and wishing me congratulations. I cannot explain to you in that moment what my emotions were. Elation, of course, but also a dash of incredulity and the sudden realization that, wait a minute, there’s more. For so long, passing the FSOA has been my endgame, partially because I didn’t really let myself believe that I’d make it through. Now I have, and there are months, and months, and months, between me and the register, let alone me and an A-100.

Mostly, though, I think I was in a little bit of shock. They led me back to the waiting room, and I was the first one there – pretty soon, the second guy they’d called came strolling in. The third guy came in a little later. We had all done the Group Exercise together, so I felt a certain camaraderie with them, and we were all thrilled to be there.

After some more waiting, it became evident that no one else from our group had made it. I was honestly surprised. I wasn’t kidding when I said I thought all of us would pass that day – there were some spectacularly qualified candidates in there, who I thought would for sure get through. Sometimes these things come down to a combination of luck and skill. In the other, unseen group, apparently only one person passed (though I’m still not sure they were real).

Now starts the security clearance and the medical clearance. It’s going to be a long, long process, but I’m just so happy to have made it through this part. One step closer!

[notesfromthepen]

Prison Tales; The Ballad Of Juan Jose Garcia

During my tenure as a convict I've crossed paths with countless characters, any one of which you could drop into a packed stadium and be confident that their exceptionality amongst the crowd would stand unrivaled. And although prisons are fertile fields, there have been just a few individuals I've felt compelled to write about. And even then, it's only been superficial scribblings. 

My bunkie, Juan Jose Garcia, whose name should belong to a grizzled Mexican ranch hand not a pudgy white kid from Grand Rapids, has forced my hand. His behavior will no longer allow me to shirk my moral responsibility to document his existence for the sake of human psychology, sociology, education, and genetic mapping...as well as writers of comedy, satire, and tragedy. And makers of human leashes, helmets, and adjusters of IQ. 

I was really struggling on what to call him, both for anonymity as well as convenience. His government name is so poetically appropriate when taken into context. Juan Jose Garcia, is a doughy teenager, who alleges to have Puerto Rican and Mexican DNA stacked somewhere in the rungs of his double helix, but short of him volunteering this information, or checking his prison ID, you'd never guess at his Latino heritage. His nickname is Guerro, which is Spanish for white boy; a language he doesn't speak. It's not like he's Aryan white. He looks more like one of his parents could be part Italian, or Greek maybe. He looks "American white." If that's such a thing. But he definitely doesn't look like what our culturally prejudice ideas of what a Juan "should" look like. But that's not what has me wondering about what to call him here. It's all nicknames in here, no one goes by their government names. So I figure I'll just call him whichever name feels right in the moment; Juan, Guerro, dummy, but mostly I'll call him bunkie, which is what I actually call him anyway. And though he's no longer a teenager (he turned 20 a few days ago) I will most likely continue to refer to him as such. A decision I stand by; partly because he was a 19 when I met him, but mostly because, in a way, he always will be.

In full disclosure this is a proclamation/insult my very own sister frequently hurls in my direction. "Forever seventeen," as she puts it. I'd feel compelled to argue with her on the subject if she didn't have the advantage of being right. This immaturity is the common ground on which me & my bunkie meet. It's our love language. And it is the ONLY quality we have in common.

I want to make clear that I love the kid. In the way an older brother loves a pain-in-the-ass younger brother. He's got a great heart and sweet nature, rivaled only by his devastatingly prolific quality as a complete and utter airhead. Unfortunately, like many inmates, the environment and circumstance he grew up in actively sought to kill his softer nature at every turn (and apparently, a majority of his working braincells.) But nature is a stubborn bitch and will always find a way.

As frustrating as it can be at times, I'm glad he's my bunkie. And I'm trying my damnedest to get him together before he is inevitably sent to another joint, unit, or cube, where the likelihood of a relatively patient and understanding, slightly asshole-ish bunkie he respects, is practically nil.

He calls me his dad. A moniker I insistently rebuke, to no avail. He's also stubborn; quite possibly a side effect of the airy environment cultivated between his ears; and he's highly susceptible to peer pressure. Which is why—I like to tell myself—I use shame in my attempt to curb his behavior. He turned 20 this month. With the excuse of being a teenager, all-but gone, I've really tried to focus my guidance, hoping he will absorb something before we part ways. Again, to no avail.

What follows are simply a few tales of what it looks like to raise a teenager, that's not yours, behind bars. Care has been taken to make as little alteration to the actual events as possible, while still protecting the guilty an innocent alike. So without further adieu:

Raising Juan Garcia; The Taffy Hustle

My bunkie came to prison a few months ago. A full-fledged fish. Though it is his first prison bid, he's not completely unfamiliar with institutional life. Much of his adolescence was spent in group homes and juvenile detention centers. Though you wouldn't know by watching him stumble through this experience.

Tall Rob stopped at my window. Which isn't a window as much as it is just the space between the foot of my bunk bed and my locker where they but up against the chest-high divider wall that separates the eight-man cube and the hallway.

The imposing figure that so frequently darkens this prison window is Tall Rob, a 6'6 ex hitman/fixer for the Russian mob. Supposedly, other than Tall Rob, there's only one other inmate at this prison serving a life sentence, without the possibility of parole, after copping out (pleading guilty) to a 1st degree murder charge. Not taking a 1st degree murder beef to trial is like being all in on a pot of Hold 'Em and folding before you see the river. You've got nothing to lose by playing the hand out. The other guy is a serial killer, who copped out because they already had him on a bunch of other murders. What's another life sentence when you're already doing three. Tall Rob, on the other hand, copped out because he's a standup guy. Dragging his case to trial would mean a lengthy investigation. And I don't know what you know about the Russian mob, but they don't really like investigations. So he copped out to quash the investigation and is serving a natural life sentence. 

So Tall Rob's at my window when he notices my bunkie, covered in flop sweat, attempting to cut, separate, and wrap his 1st batch of prison taffy. Tall Rob asks, "Where are your gloves?"

With the excitement of a puppy that just saw something new, my bunkie says, "I asked the CO. He wouldn't give me any."

Any convict knows that latex gloves are for officers, and officers only. And, though not always enforced, gloves are unquestionably labeled illegal contraband when possessed by an inmate. But you must remember—I must remember, daily—that my bunkie isn't just ANY inmate.

"You asked the cops?…" I ask, between sips of morning coffee.

"Yeah, they wouldn't give me any."

I glance to Tall Rob. My eyebrows say, "You see what I gotta deal with?"

Fighting off a grin, Rob commences to inform my bunkie that not only will the cops not give him gloves, they could write him a ticket just for having them. He goes on to explain what, I assumed, was basic inmate knowledge of the importance of wearing gloves; how it’s mainly to show potential customers that your particular brand of prison taffy was crafted with at least some thought of personal hygiene.

While my bunkie was nodding along to the lecture, I dug out the pair of contraband-blue gloves I keep stashed in my footlocker and dropped them in his lap.

Rob headed back down the rock towards his cube, convinced his point was made.

One small step to my right and I retreat into the sanctuary of my bunk. Not so convinced. I pull the makeshift curtain, a shirt hanging from my bunkie's bed, closed, and wait for the caffeine to kick in. Robin Meade delivered the news.

My bunkie, I assume, continued whatever it was he was previously doing.

Ten...fifteen, minutes later, with instant coffee coursing through my bloodstream, I'm reasonably awake.

Open curtain.

Standing up puts me chest level with my bunkie's bed. A once clear Tupperware bowl, the one I gave him as a loaner two months ago when he first got here, is resting on his bunk covered in pink & purple splotches of taffy like some Jackson Pollack-inspired line of prison Tupperware. In the midst of the sugary melee, welded to the borrowed bowl, are the contraband-blue gloves I just gave him.

My bunkie was at the table, still wrestling the taffy with his bare hands, as if he'd never left.

With the timing of a shitty three-camera sitcom, Tall Rob stops at the window.

He's looks at the bowl, smothered in gloves, smothered in taffy.

He looks at my bunkie.

He looks at me.

I ask my bunkie about the gloves. He tells me the hot taffy stuck to 'em when he was pouring the bowl onto a flattened out chip bag. He tells me he couldn't get them off.

"Why were you wearing the gloves?!…" I ask, "You don't need..." I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. The rest of the sentence comes out as a whisper, "...gloves when your pouring the taffy out." Approaching normal volume, maybe slightly louder, I tell him, "You need the gloves for when you're actually HANDLING THE TAFFY!"

Blank stare.

My frustration with the exchange is directly proportional to Tall Rob's joy at being there to witness it.

At hearing Rob's laughter my bunkie gets up and walks over, right up next to me, so he can see Rob at the window. So he can start performing. "It was hot as shit," he says, poking the taffy-covered gloves. "They're still good," he assures us. He runs his sticky fingers through his hair.

He's been growing his hair out since he came to prison. It's 1970s Elvis length. Somehow he has accomplished the seemingly impossible feat of producing a bountiful, never-ending, source of dandruff, while still having, otherwise, greasy locks. When you're on a bottom bunk, gravity is your enemy, hair is a weapon. Many altercations, leading to very real consequences, have started with falling hair. Bunkie's big dream is to get it braided. I don't know what he's waiting for; its been long enough for weeks. (I've since learned he's waiting until it's long enough to have two long braids, one on each side, hanging down past his shoulders before he gets it braided. Meaning another year of growth at least.)

Tall Rob tells him he needs to cut his hair.

I second the proposal.

"No way," he says, "I'm growing it out." This time he runs both hands through his hair. He looks at his palms before wiping them on his shirt.

"You should cut it," I say.

"Why?"

"It's greasy. And you're always touching it. And now you're handling food."

"I washed it yesterday."

“OK?..."

"With what?" asks Rob.

"With water. Tomorrow I'm using soap." He said it as if he was revealing a plan of sheer brilliance.

"Water?!" I'm approaching the edge, "You mean, you got it wet! You didn't WASH your hair, you got it WET!"

Tall Rob's eyes go wide.

"And TOMORROW..." I'm talking to Rob at this point, "he's going to wash it, not with shampoo," I grab one of the tiny state-issued bars of green soap from the top of my locker, "but this! “ HAND soap! And what does that have to do with not cutting your hair?!"

"Nothing. You said it was greasy."

"It is!" I say, "And to prove me wrong, you say you got it wet yesterday?" 

Everyone's laughing but me.

My indignation is equal parts performance and genuine frustration.

—Just now, as I am writing this, a C.O. leaned in the window and says, "Do you know where Garcia is?" My back is to her and I'm distracted. I assume she's talking to someone else. "Do you know where Garcia is?" I look over my shoulder. She's talking to me. "They need him to pick up his store bag.

Store day is once every two weeks and it’s an EVENT. It's payday. They go cube by cube calling inmates to go stand in line to pick up their commissary. If you miss it, because you're in class or at a healthcare appointment they'll send your bag back to the warehouse. If your lucky you'll get it a few days later, otherwise they'll send it back to the company and refund your money. That means another two weeks without food or hygiene. NO ONE misses store day.

"They're about to leave," she says, "if you know where he is you should get him."

Store day isn't something that you can sleep through or can pass by unnoticed. Especially when people owe you money. Especially if YOU owe people money.

Even more especially, when you owe your bunkie money. All of which apply to my bunkie's investment in not missing store day. 

I take the tablet with me, trying to finish that last sentence, as I look for this kid. I'm wondering where he could be. What emergency could account for his absence? Is he at class? Maybe his dumb ass is in the shower or passed out in a locker or dead on the back forty. None of which would be worthy excuses for missing store. I'm headed to the bathroom first. The day room is on the way, but I decide it'd be a waste of time to check there. There's no way he could be in the day room and not know it's time for our side to get store. Remembering who it is I'm looking for, I glance in the day room window on my way to the bathroom. And I'll be damned! There he is, in the first fucking row, laughing obnoxiously at a scene from Hell Boy. I thought it was Fast and the Furious, but he later corrected me as I was chastising him.

Hell Boy!!!

He made it there just as they were packing his bag up to take to the warehouse.

He reacted like he reacts to everything: Slightly oblivious, completely careless.

This is the shit I have to deal with. Everyday, two, three, times a day he gives me something that out does the last thing I figured I'd tell you about. His buffoonery rears its head so often that I get interrupted writing about previous buffoonery with current buffoonery!—

OK, back to the Taffy.

He finished separating, cutting, twisting, and wrapping the individual pieces of taffy courting mini disasters every step of the way. I did my best to talk him through the difficulties. Taffy was my hustle when I first came to the joint. I wanted him to succeed. He spent five hours doing what should've taken forty-five minutes, but eventually he got it bagged up and on the market.

I later found out that he had an investor that bankrolled his little endeavor. It wasn't his money he was gambling with. Which means he has less to lose, but it also means he's beholden to somebody. There is more pressure on his profit.

As I write this I can hear him in the cube kitty-corner from us, explaining the mathematics of his endeavor to his benefactor.

It's been about a week since his product hit the market and I get the feeling this will be his first and last venture into the confection game. It requires more than a couple hits of commitment. But who knows? Last night he told me, after paying to have pockets sewn into his pants, hands tucked deep into his newest obsession, that he was going to start investing in, "a ton of property." Whatever that means.

The timing of this piece seems like fate. Today is store day. Which is payday in the joint. That means he'll be collecting his taffy debts. I started writing this, unsure of my conclusion, and now an ending reveals itself.

My bunkie just plopped down in the chair next to my bed, the one he uses to get up and down from his bunk. He has a pen and a yellow legal pad. A debt sheet.

"Are you still writing?" he asks. It's a rhetorical question. He knows I'm still writing. It means he wants to talk to me but knows by now not to interrupt me when I'm doing something; a hard fought lesson, but a lesson learned nonetheless. Progress.

"Yes, I'm still writing," I say, "but I'm writing about you, so I can talk and still consider it work." I put down the tablet. "What's up?"

He looks at the legal pad, "I'd have to sell twenty-one pieces to make back the 7 dollars (the price of the materials)."

"How many did you sell?" 

"Eighteen," he says. The realization, that all his work was for less than nothing, dawns on him. He doodles something on the paper. "I don't think I like selling taffy bunkie." Defeat.

Now I feel like shit.

Like most kids his age, he's a blind optimist. And REALITY is—well, reality doesn't exactly follow suit. A quality he refuses to acknowledge.

He's a young dummy; It's his job to be all pie-in-the-sky about getting rich selling taffy. And It's my job to bring him back to earth, to tell him there are already three people in here who sell taffy, that there's only so much money in the candy market and most of it's cornered, to let him know that taffy doesn't sit well, so if he doesn't sell it fast he'll be sitting on a product with depreciating value. All of which I said.

Still, I don't want to see his spirit completely crushed. There's no fun telling someone you like, "I told you so." Especially when you actually told them so.

A beat later, before I can think of something to say to resuscitate his spirits, he looks up with a smile and says, "I guess I'll just stick to selling drugs." He chuckles at his comment, and heads out, onto the next adventure. He's only half joking. And just like that it's over. He's completely washed his hands, emotionally, of the entire situation. Any stress, wiped away in an instant.

Chipped, cracked, or caked in shit, his glass is always full, even when it's empty.

Part of my frustration with the shit he does, the shit he says, is out of some begrudging envy for how carelessly he moves through life. Setting fires as he goes. The best and worst thing about being a shark is the ten minute memory.

The gloves, the taffy, the hair, none of them are exceptional events in the life of Juan Garcia but I had to pick something to write about, something to give you a little glimpse into life with my bunkie.

As I'm finishing this up, I hear him across the hall trying to give the remaining taffy back to his benefactor, the smushed, stale, falling-out-of-the-wrapper taffy. He's out. Investors be damned.

Oh, to be a shark.

[gethealthy18-blog]

Valentine’s Day Gifts Ideas (That Beat Chocolate and Flowers!)

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Valentine’s Day Gifts Ideas (That Beat Chocolate and Flowers!)

I know I might sound unromantic, but something in me rebels against commercialized holidays (like Valentine’s Day). My husband feels the same way so we don’t do a lot to mark the day. Every year hubby and I still plan to stay in for our usual at-home date night, but sometimes I cave (just a little bit) and buy him a gift for fun.

You won’t find me buying a heart-shaped boxes of candy or flowers that will die in a couple of days, but I do have a few other ideas that have been a hit in the past or I’m thinking of trying this year…

Let’s Upgrade Valentine’s Day Giving This Year!

I love days that are reminders to tell my husband and kids how much I love and appreciate them. But this particular holiday has become a tribute to candy and store-bought goods that lose their value after a couple of days.

We all feel the need to spend a lot of money on expensive dates and gifts because a marketing team has decided that Valentine’s Day is a great time for flower and candy sales.

If you are going to spend $126 on Valentine’s Day (the average according to Business Insider… does anyone actually do that?!) I have some gift ideas that will bring lasting health and happiness, not just a temporary sugar rush!

Gifts That Say “I Love You”

My husband and I actually stopped giving expensive gifts when we got married, partially for financial reasons and partially to give ourselves a reason to be more creative and thoughtful with our gifts. As a result, I have a file with hand-written letters and mementos from creative dates we’ve had over the years that mean so much more than a box of chocolates ever could.

The best gifts of all, in my opinion, are quality time or shared experiences. This is what I’ll be giving my family this year and would encourage you to consider it as well! Here’s a list of all of my favorite experiences to give as gifts, but I have some Valentine’s-specific ideas too!

My Favorite Valentine’s Day Gift Ideas

If you want to give an actual gift this year, these are some of my favorite ideas that your recipient will love, and you can feel great about giving!

Couples’ Gift Ideas

We often choose to purchase one higher quality gift we both can enjoy rather than giving separate gifts. This way, we can get a slightly pricier item and both enjoy it for months or years to come. Some of our favorites are:

Myobuddy – One of our favorite gifts ever! This is a combination percussive massage, infrared heat, and myofascial release in one device. So relaxing and part of our daily routine now. p.s. Myobuddy is offering a Valentine’s special for Wellness Mama readers: $200 off the Couple’s Massage Pack (or other packs of equal value) with code MAMA200 or $100 off the Myobuddy Massager Pro with code MAMA100!

Joovv – Another joint gift that has become part of our daily routine. Red light therapy has many benefits (though I use it mostly for the skin and hair boost). This post explains what red light therapy (also known as photobiomodulation) is and why it works.

Sauna – We call our sauna “the quiet box” and escaping for a few minutes of quiet time and infrared heat is a double win for us each day. Sauna therapy has some well-documented benefits and is also relaxing.

Wine – Wine is already a popular Valentine’s Day Gift, but many wines contain added sugars, artificial colors, or flavors, or some other strange things you wouldn’t expect to find in wine. We’re big wine fans but now we stick to Dry Farm Wines, which are lab-tested, lower alcohol, sugar-free, and don’t have any questionable additives.

Chemex – I love our glass Chemex coffeemaker. It makes coffeehouse quality pour-over coffee at home.

Alitura Face & Body – This line uses the best organic skincare ingredients for you can imagine, plus the unisex scent means we can both use it, which means less to store on the bathroom counter! (Use the code WELLNESS for 20% off.)

Q&A a Day for Couples Book – A book with a question a day for couples to read and answer together. (It is a follow up to the popular Q&A a Day for Kids book.) A great conversation started and fun 5-minute daily activity.

For Her:

Shiatsu Massage Pillow – Less than the price of one actual massage and SO relaxing!

Organic Cotton Robe – I got this organic cotton robe for Christmas and love it! So soft and the belt is attached so I don’t lose it.

Royally Flawless Facial Moisturizer – Give the gift of gorgeous skin! I love this facial oil with the highest quality ingredients and no junk!

RTIC Tumbler – I love this for hot and cold drinks and it is a reusable non-plastic drink cup.

10,000 Lux Happy Light – Feel blue this winter? I use this super-bright “happy light” to keep my cortisol levels healthy.

Dry Brush – Brushing isn’t just for hair and teeth. Brushing skin can help it stay smooth, supple, and may improve collagen.

French Press Coffee Maker – Nothing says love more than coffee! (Coffee = my love language!)

Pique Tea – If coffee’s not her thing or she likes to mix it up! This tea tastes delicious and helps gut health as well.

Grown-up Coloring Book and Markers – Grown-up coloring books are surging in popularity and studies show coloring may reduce stress levels.

For Him:

Fire Starter Kit – He can “light your fire” literally with this tool to start fires without matches or a lighter.

Smart Wool Socks – Warm socks that are great for summer or winter.

Surefire Flashlight – Really high quality pocket flashlight.

Wine Aerator – Wine = one of my husband’s love languages!

Saddleback Leather Wallet – This wallet has a 100 year warranty!! (yes, really!)

Beard Oil– Great option for the bearded man in your life!

Defender Pad – Protect his lap from EMFs when he uses the laptop.

Tactical Pen – More than just a pen, it works in all conditions and can break a car window if a person is trapped.

Whiskey Stones – Freeze these rocks to use in place of ice in drinks “on the rocks.”

Homemade Gift Ideas

Rather make a gift? Try these easy homemade gifts:

A Great Massage – Get this digital massage course and learn how to give your love a great massage at home! Cheaper than a massage package and great because you also get quality time together! Don’t worry, it is all PG rated! Make homemade massage butter to go with the gift!

Homemade Chocolate: If you are going to do the chocolate thing, why not make some gourmet chocolate that is actually good for you? This is my favorite homemade recipe made with cocoa butter and raw honey. You can also top with a bit of sea salt for a salted version, or add a drop of food-grade peppermint essential oil for a mint flavor. This recipe also works really well for making chocolate-covered strawberries (or other fruit) or as a magic shell topping for homemade ice cream.

A Creative and Fun Date: I share my 7 top favorite unusual date ideas in this post, but anything that gets you out of the house and breaks up the norm can be fun. I once made a scavenger hunt for my husband where he got one clue when he got in his car after work, and each clue led him to a new clue until he finally got to the date place (picnic outside and we played frisbee). In the long run, it will be the creative dates and the time spent together that they remember, not the expensive gifts or dates!

Homemade Lotion Bars: Lotion bars are a great gift idea for Valentine’s Day. They are completely natural and can be customized for men or women. Make in silicone molds in any shape to create a bouquet of lotion bar flowers (with a mold like this one) or stick with a simple bar for guys (like this one).

How do you celebrate Valentine’s Day? Do any of these ideas sound like something you’ll try? Share below!

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/13325/valentines-day-gifts/

[easytravelpw-blog]

Full text write on https://easy-travel.pw/john-hall-s-alaska-grand-slam-land-tour-trip-diary/magazine/

John Hall's Alaska Grand Slam Land Tour Trip Diary

01 of 08

Day 1 – Travel Day

Old Line Photography

I took a land tour of Anchorage, Prince William Sound, Valdez, Fairbanks, Denali Nationals Park and Preserve and Talkeetna with John Hall’s Alaska. Here is my trip diary.

Traveling from the eastern US to Alaska takes the better part of a day. I woke up at 4:00 a. m. and was at the airport before 5:30 a. m. I have never been so glad to have TSA PreCheck in my life. The security screening line was extremely long, but the PreCheck line had fewer than 10 people in it – lucky me! I had plenty of time to get to my gate.

My flight connected through Denver, which is a nice airport with plenty of dining options and lots of places to charge electronic devices.  John Hall’s Alaska’s travel documents mentioned the limited space for carry-on bags on the tour bus, so my Eagle Creek zip-top tote bag seemed like a good carry-on bag option for this trip. Most of the people on my flight had wheeled suitcases or duffel bags and the overhead bin space filled very quickly. My carry-on fit under the seat in front of me. I chose a window seat so I could take photos as we flew over British Columbia and Alaska, and it was nice to be able to reach my book, e-reader and other items without disturbing the other passengers in my row.

When I arrived at the airport in Anchorage, it was easy to find Tara, the John Hall’s Alaska representative assigned to greet incoming flights. My bag arrived quickly, and Tara and I headed off to find the other tour participants who would be riding to the hotel with us. It took only a few minutes to locate them and head out to the curb, where the Crowne Plaza Midtown shuttle picked us up and whisked us to the hotel.

The Crowne Plaza Midtown is on the main road between the airport and downtown Anchorage. John Hall’s Alaska arranged for a shuttle driver to be available at specific times so that any arriving tour participants who wanted to go downtown could do so. I was tired from all of my travels – I was not yet over jet lag from my trip the previous week to the West Coast – so I decided to unpack and deal with some work-related emails rather than go into Anchorage.

John Hall’s Alaska gave all the tour participants vouchers for dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. We could order any meal on the menu, from a sandwich to rib eye steak. My salmon was tasty and I had more than enough to eat.

After dinner, I headed back to my room to relax and get a good night’s sleep.

Continue to 2 of 8 below.

02 of 08

Day 2 – Alaska Railroad, Meares Glacier, Prince William Sound, Valdez

Old Line Photography

Today was a fun but long day. We had breakfast at 7:00 at the hotel. Offerings included scrambled eggs, omelets cooked to order, bacon, sausage, fruit, pastries, yogurt, oatmeal, potatoes and salmon.  We traveled to the Alaska Railroad train depot by motorcoach.  The depot was jammed because people were waiting to board special trains that were running from Anchorage to the state fair. Our train, the Glacier Express, ran from Anchorage south to Whittier. After the state fair train left the station, our train arrived and we boarded.

Our two-hour train ride took us through some very beautiful areas, particularly the Turnagain Arm.  The Seward Highway runs parallel to the train route, and we could see many RVs, trailers and campers on the highway as we traveled. We saw glaciers and amazingly beautiful mountains. Although this trip took place in late August, some of the trees had already turned yellow.

When we arrived at the train station in Whittier, we walked across the street to the Inn, where we had a nice lunch. I had salmon with asparagus and lemon sorbet for dessert. Sadly, after lunch, one of the ladies I ate with fell and fractured her pelvis. John Hall’s Alaska sent a driver to take her to the hospital in Anchorage. One of her friends stayed with her for a couple of days, and then rejoined the tour.

After lunch we took a seven-hour boat trip from Whittier to Valdez via the Meares Glacier. It was a beautiful trip, with the highlight being the 20 minutes or so we spent at the glacier. Glaciers make sounds! They crack and pop even when ice falls aren’t happening. We saw a couple of large ice falls (talk about noise!) and a couple of smaller ones. Our boat got about ¼ mile from the glacier – way closer than my Holland America Line cruise ship could do in Glacier Bay five years ago. Even with the wind and engine noise, it was easy to hear the glacier’s sounds.

We saw sea otters, kittiwakes, two types of puffins, harbor seals, sea lions, and one humpback whale that wanted very little to do with us. I enjoyed watching an otter clutch a giant salmon while seagulls flew toward this tasty meal. The otter would watch the proceedings, then suddenly dive underwater to trick the gulls.

We had dinner on the boat – halibut, steamed vegetables, rice, a roll and oreos.

We arrived in Valdez about 9:00 and were told that we had to have our suitcases outside our room doors and be downstairs at 6:00 a. m. the next morning. After a long day of travel, this was not welcome news. Best Western Valdez Harbor Inn is clean and comfortable, but it does not have air conditioning or elevators.

Continue to 3 of 8 below.

03 of 08

Day 3 – Valdez to Fairbanks

Old Line Photography

We all made it downstairs by 6:00 a. m., and Tour Director Bill led us across the street to The Fat Mermaid, a restaurant and bar that looked like something straight out of Northern Exposure. Breakfast included scrambled eggs, eggs and omelets made to order, bacon, sausage, fruit, French toast pecan casserole, toast, English muffins and juice. We watched the sun create a glow behind the mountains as we boarded the coach and headed out of Valdez.

Our drive today was very long; we arrived in Fairbanks at about 6:30 p. m. We had several adventures along the way. We stopped twice in Keystone Canyon to photograph waterfalls. I really enjoyed the scenery in the Thompson Pass.  At the Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve Visitor Center, we discovered that a rock had struck our coach’s radiator and caused a leak. Tour Director Bill called John Hall’s Alaska’s office right away, and together they came up with a plan to get us safely to Fairbanks.  While at the Visitor Center, I walked the half-mile loop trail, which is advertised as wheelchair-accessible. It’s definitely flat, but there are tree roots and forest debris in the way, so it would be good to have someone else along if you plan to explore this trail via wheelchair.

After our 45-minute stop, we hit the road. At the first gas station we saw, Bill bought a large quantity of Stop Leak and poured it into the radiator. He checked fluid levels a couple of times along the Richardson Highway, but the Stop Leak did its job and we had no further issues. John Hall’s Alaska sent another motorcoach to Fairbanks for our group to use.

We ate lunch at Gakona Lodge’s Carriage House Restaurant. Gakona Lodge was built in the early 1900s and is currently Alaska’s oldest operating roadhouse.  The Carriage House used to be a carriage repair shop, back in the days when people used horses and buggies to get from place to place in Alaska. Its log walls, quirky antiques and tasty food made our lunch experience feel very Alaskan. It was fun to see my traveling companions run around taking photos like a bunch of travel writers.

After we resumed our day-long drive to Fairbanks, we stopped a couple of times to view the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, which appears to be an engineering marvel that has been built to withstand huge earthquakes. I say “appears” because the pipeline’s innovations are relatively untested. Our group was immensely interested in the pipeline and nearly everyone got off the bus to take photos at each of our pipeline stops.

We stopped at Delta Junction to stretch our legs and take photos of the mile marker at the end of the Alaska (Alcan) Highway. By this time it was later in the afternoon and all of us were quite tired of being on the coach, but we still had two hours to go. Bill did his best to tell us about life in Fairbanks, his childhood, Fairbanks winters and anything else he could think of to pass the time, but in the end it was still an 11.5 hour day on a motorcoach.

The Bear Lodge in Fairbanks is very nice and is home to a wonderful museum filled with pristine vintage cars and equally well-preserved ladies’ and childrens’ clothing from the late 1890s through the 1940s. The collection is immaculately preserved and contains many rare vehicles. It’s well worth a stop or even a detour through Fairbanks. We ate dinner at our hotel. Portions were huge, service was beyond friendly and I felt inspired to go on as many hikes as possible in order to burn off some calories.

We were able to request a Northern Lights wake-up call – apparently this is a normal hotel service in Alaska.

Continue to 4 of 8 below.

04 of 08

Day 4 – Fairbanks

Old Line Photography

I got the Northern Lights call at 2:45 a. m., threw on some clothes and walked outside as quickly as I could. I knew the lights would be less than spectacular. Our Tour Director had told us about a website that predicts the intensity of the Northern Lights in Alaska, and last night’s prediction was for intensity level 2, with 10 being maximum intensity. Still, I saw them! They were hard to see because of all the lights around the Bear Lodge, so I could not take photos, but I will try again tonight.

It took me a while to fall asleep after viewing the Lights, so I was a bit groggy when my alarm went off. Still, I had plenty of time to get dressed and have breakfast. It was served buffet-style in the hotel restaurant and included eggs, French toast, potatoes, bacon, sausage, fruit, pastries. Next, we took a steamboat tour of the Chena River on the sternwheeler Discovery III. Along the way, we watched a float plane take off and land and saw a sled dog musher take her team for a training run. We also watched a Native Alaskan fish camp demonstration. The river cruise narrator interviewed the pilot, dog musher and fish preparer, using television cameras and microphones, so we could see and hear each demonstration clearly wherever we were on the boat.

The Discovery III tied up at the Chena Indian Village, where we spent an agreeable hour touring three different sites with college-age Native Alaskans who told us about Athabascan life before and after Anglo explorers and trappers arrived in Alaska. We had free time to walk around and ask questions. Laura Allaway, the dog musher we had watched earlier, was also there with some of her dogs.

At the conclusion of our trip, we went by motorcoach to Trail Breaker Kennel, where Laura Allaway gave us a tour and told us how she came to Alaska and competed in the 2015 Iditarod. We learned about the dogs’ training program and about the Alaskan Husky dogs. After a buffet lunch, we were allowed to hold Trail Breaker Kennel’ newest pups, Phelps, Ledecky, Simone, Farah, Bolt and Felix. The puppies were adorable, of course!

After our Tour Director tore us away from the pups, he took us on a quick drive through downtown Fairbanks so we could see the downtown area. We had the option to spend a couple of hours there before dinner, but we were all so tired that we chose to go back to the hotel. I spent some time packing for our Denali stop. John Hall’s Alaska gave all of us tour participants a small red duffel bag at the start of the trip for use at the Denali Backcountry Lodge. I needed to make sure everything I really and truly needed would fit, and it did.

We regrouped at 5:00 and headed to the Alaskan Salmon Bake at Pioneer Park. This meal is an all-you-can-eat affair featuring salmon, prime rib, beer battered cod and “crab clusters,” which are Alaskan king crab legs. Sides included green, pasta and potato salads, baked beans, rolls and butter. Four kinds of cake were served for dessert. Needless to say, no one left hungry! Although many tourists come to the Salmon Bake, there were several local families waiting to pay for their meals as we left the restaurant.

We walked to the Palace Saloon and Theater in Pioneer Park to see the early performance of the Golden Heart Review, a lighthearted look at Fairbanks’ history through the eyes of its early pioneers. We were back at the Bear Lodge by 8:00.

Continue to 5 of 8 below.

05 of 08

Day 5 – Fairbanks to Kantishna and Denali National Park

Old Line Photography

We left Bear Lodge at 7:30 a. m. after a breakfast that was identical to yesterday’s buffet. We drove south to the entrance of Denali National Park and had some free time at the Visitor Center before and after lunch. We ate lunch at the Morino Grill; we ordered off the regular menu, which included burgers, sandwiches, soups, panini and salads.

After lunch, we boarded the Denali Backcountry Lodge bus, carrying our red duffel bags and our purses, camera bags and other small carry-on items. The bus strongly resembled a school bus. It had no air conditioning, but the windows worked and there was a bit more seat room than a typical school bus. Our trip to the Denali Backcountry Lodge in Kantishna took about six and a half hours, much of it at 20 miles per hour on a packed gravel road. The scenery was beautiful, and we had a clear weather day – this is somewhat unusual, apparently – which gave us spectacular views of Denali. We also saw five grizzly bears, one caribou, four swans and a couple of Dall sheep along the way. Our driver told us about the park’s history and wildlife during the drive and pulled over each time we saw an animal so we could take photographs. He also made four scheduled stops for snacks, restroom breaks and photography. Although the drive was very long and the road was a bit scary at times (there are no guardrails), our driver and Tour Director did their best to help pass the time and teach us about Denali National Park.

The mountain (in Denali National Park, there is only one mountain worth mentioning) was beyond amazing. 20,320 feet high, covered in ice and snow, Denali looms above all the other peaks in the Alaska Range. We knew we were fortunate to have such perfect weather for our drive, and we took plenty of photos, just in case the weather on our return drive turned out to be less than stellar.

Upon arrival at the Denali Backcountry Lodge, we received our room assignments. My room, which smelled delightfully of cedar and redwood,  had a small table and two chairs by the window, which looked out on the river. The room also had a futon. The heater worked well, I discovered. We ate dinner in the main lodge; we had a choice of ribs (this turned out to be one large pork rib per person), baked cod or stuffed Portobello mushrooms, served with mashed potatoes, rolls and butter, kale Caesar salad and a mélange of broccoli, carrots and golden beets. We had bread pudding, served cold with rhubarb sauce, for dessert.

We spent some time choosing hikes and other activities for tomorrow and plotting yet another expedition to view the Northern Lights. Then it was time for sleep; 1:15 a. m. (peak Northern Lights time) was just around the corner.

Continue to 6 of 8 below.

06 of 08

Day 6 – “Free Day” at Denali Backcountry Lodge

Old Line Photography

The 1:15 a. m. Northern Lights viewing was a bust, but we did have spectacular views of the Milky Way and constellations. Apparently the Northern Lights did not appear until about 2:30 a. m., according to the lodge staff.

Breakfast was served buffet style in the Main Lodge. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, oatmeal, fruit, coffee and orange juice were on the menu. After breakfast I went on a guided hike to Blueberry Hill. This hike was rated “casual” and it was a fairly easy hike on an improved trail. Our guide did a great job telling us about native plants and their medicinal and nutritional uses. Once again we had sunny weather, which meant Denali and the Alaska Range appeared in practically every photo I took. We saw a caribou grazing on the hillside, and the caribou not only was not afraid of us, he started approaching our group. Park rules required us to move away from the caribou so he could graze in peace, but we really enjoyed viewing him as he munched on lichens. We picked wild blueberries on Blueberry Hill and took plenty of photos of Wonder Lake and Denali.

We made it back to the lodge as lunch service began. Lunch consisted of two soups, chicken and wild rice and vegetarian lentil, as well as sandwiches, turkey wraps, salad and two dessert choices. The food was plentiful and tasty.

After lunch, we had a gold panning session with our Tour Director. Bill made swishing the dirt and water around in the pan look easy, but it was clear early on that gold panning is an acquired skill. Everyone had fun, though, and the lodge staff laminated the gold flakes our “prospectors” found onto little souvenir cards to take home, which was a nice touch.

At 2:30 a group of us met our guide for the afternoon historical walk. Our destination was Fannie Quigley’s cabin. Fannie Quigley was legendary in Kantishna, a mining town in what is now Denali National Park, even during her lifetime. She was married to a miner, and when he left her, she stayed on, hunting her own food, looking after herself and providing hospitality to any folks who wandered through the former boomtown. Today the National Park Service and two of the lodges in Denali National Park offer tours to Fannie’s cabin, which stands as a symbol not only of Kantishna’s gold rush days but also as a memorial to a self-reliant woman.

We had some free time after our hike. I used it read a book next to the river. The Lodge offered a social hour at 5:00; the staff put out an appetizer tray in the bar area for guests, and we could sit inside or out on the deck to enjoy some treats and socialize. Dinner was served at 6:00. We had a choice of either Cornish game hens or beef tips; both were served with a spring mix salad, tiny potatoes and mixed vegetables. Our chocolate mousse dessert was a sweet treat.

The Lodge offers evening programs; tonight’s was on mammals of Denali National Park. Our tour group planned to cap the evening with a hot chocolate social, but with a 6:00 a. m. departure looming, I opted to go back to my room, pack and turn in early.

Continue to 7 of 8 below.

07 of 08

Day 7 – Talkeetna

Old Line Photography

We were up before dawn, ready to take the bus back through the park to the Alaska Railroad’s Denali station, which is a short walk from the Park’s Visitor Center. The drive was very enjoyable, if dusty, because we stopped to take photos of Denali at sunrise from Wonder Lake and a couple of other vantage points. You know it’s a great shot when your bus driver takes a photo, too.

Our four-hour train trip from Denali to Talkeetna was great fun. We had Goldstar Service tickets, which included lunch and two beverages. It was fun to eat in the dining car. A very well-spoken young lady narrated our tour, pointing out historic sites and telling us about life in the Alaska backcountry. We found out that she is a high school student who works for the Alaska Railroad during the summer. Many students compete for the Alaska Railroad jobs, and it’s easy to see why. It would be fun to talk about your home state and see such gorgeous scenery every day.

We traveled to Talkeetna, a town on the other side of the Alaska Range. Because it was on the “easy” climbing side of Denali and had a train station, Talkeetna became the home base for people who want to summit Denali. Today, anyone who wishes to climb the mountain must pre-register and, if approved go to an orientation session at the ranger station in Talkeetna before beginning an expedition to Denali.

Talkeetna is packed with souvenir shops, restaurants and adventure outfitters. Whether you want to take a flightseeing expedition to Denali or rent a kayak, Talkeetna is an excellent place to begin your journey. Our hotel, the Talkeetna Alaskan Lodge, offered spectacular views of Denali and the Alaska Range. The Lodge, with its enormous windows, patio that was perfect for mountain viewing, and large dining room, reminded me of some of the Alpine hotels I have stayed in. I found myself constantly looking at Denali, no matter where I was in the Lodge.

We ate dinner in the hotel’s Foraker Restaurant. I ordered the pan-seared halibut, which came with potatoes and braised leeks. It was delicious. Others in our group tried some of the appetizers and salads. The beet salad and KFC (Korean fried cauliflower – spicy!) got rave reviews.

After dinner, I watched the sun set behind the mountains. It was so beautiful I could hardly bear to go inside. Eventually I did, and spent some time packing for my flight home the next day. Of course, I asked for a Northern Lights wake-up call.

Continue to 8 of 8 below.

08 of 08

Day 8 – Anchorage

Old Line Photoography

I saw the Northern Lights again, and, as before, they were too dim to photograph. My bucket list is very short, but seeing the Northern Lights was the first item on the list, so I was very happy to see the Lights again.

My last breakfast in Alaska included scrambled eggs, bacon and potatoes. Several other items were available, including fruit, oatmeal and pastries. We had some difficulty tracking down our waiter, but he explained that in Alaska, late August is the end of the tourist season and staff rosters begin to shrink, leaving fewer waiters to take care of guests.

After breakfast, we drove to downtown Anchorage. Tour Director Bill drove us around the downtown area so we could get our bearings, as we would be spending the morning on our own. We parked near the Anchorage Museum, which was a great place to begin our exploration of the city. This museum tells the story of Anchorage through art, cultural artifacts, stories and hands-on science. The highlight of my visit was visiting the Alaska Native Cultures exhibit, which contains not only hundreds of artifacts from Alaska Native cultures but also recordings of oral histories. Viewing the artifacts while listening to these stories helped me learn about Alaska Native life.

I left the museum and walked around Anchorage on my own. I spotted a couple of murals, and realized that Anchorage’s murals are worth seeking out. I found an Iditarod mural, a moose mural, a whale mural and a public art project created by local youth under the direction of the Anchorage Artists Co-op. Bill later told me that there are other murals in Anchorage; next time I visit, I will look for them. Anchorage has plenty of souvenir shops, and I bought a couple of small items to bring home.

We had lunch at Simon & Seafort’s Saloon & Grill. This restaurant specializes in steak and seafood. We ordered off a limited menu that included sandwiches, salads and fish and chips. Portions were quite large, and my open-faced crab sandwich was excellent.

After lunch, I said goodbye to my fellow travelers. They were continuing to Seward for the cruise portion of their John Hall’s Alaska Grand Slam Tour, but my journey ended in Anchorage. I’m sure they had a fantastic time. John Hall’s Alaska’s Cruise Manager was waiting to greet them and look after the group for the next seven days. Tara, who greeted me on my first day, took me to the airport. My flight was delayed, which forced me to change my connecting flight, but I got home with little difficulty. Of course, I left a part of my heart in Alaska.

John Hall’s Alaska’s impressive attention to detail made this trip as close to perfect as a tour can be. Bill was an excellent Alaska ambassador, tour director, bus driver and problem solver. Our hotels and meals exceeded my expectations, and each day brought a new adventure and expanded my horizons. My fellow travelers also enjoyed their Alaska adventure and were quick to sing the praises of John Hall’s Alaska to anyone who asked about our name tags, John Hall’s Alaska windbreakers or anything else. There’s no higher recommendation than praise from a happy traveler.

As is common in the travel industry, the writer was provided with complimentary tour for the purpose of reviewing those services. While it has not influenced this review, About.com believes in full disclosure of all potential conflicts of interest. For more information, see our Ethics Policy.

#travel #airlinetickets #airtickets #cheapairfare #planetickets #travelinsurance #travelquotes #travelblogger #traveller #travelling #travelocity #travelodge #vacation

[georgeycowell]

Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly

Like many first-time gardeners, my humble backyard garden has produced more vegetables than I know what to do with! So, I spent last Saturday morning with Mom and learned to make hot pepper jelly using several pepper varieties from my vegetable garden: bell peppers, banana peppers, and jalapeños.

I’m sure for the sake of accuracy, I should probably call this jam since we blended the pulp of the peppers and seeds to make it, and jelly is typically made with just the juice of something (or so the internet tells me). But jelly is what Mom calls it, so who am I going to believe?

The process of learning to make jellies, jams, and preserves was a new experience for K and I during our visit. Mom walked us through the steps, equipment, sterilization methods, etc. I’m working on a longer post about general rules of thumb for home canning, so be on the lookout for a separate walkthrough to cover those concepts in more detail. This post is meant mainly for the simple, straightforward recipe, but I have some very basic info here, too.

In order to keep everything as uncontaminated as possible, things moved pretty quickly once it came off of the heat! You’ll need to sterilize your jars before beginning, but Mom keeps them inside the dishwasher (still hot) until they are ready to use, and the lids/bands in a pot of hot water on the stovetop as we prepared the jelly.

Home Canning Supplies

Regular mouth quilted jelly jars

Canning essentials set (for handling the hot lids without contamination, etc.)

Stainless steel canning rack (Mom didn’t have this at the time we made these, so she used a dishtowel on the bottom of the pot instead — but I just picked this up for her as a thank-you for teaching me, so now she’ll have one!)

Large sauce pan

Blender

Large pot (we use Mom’s big crab pot, but you can also buy a pot + canning rack combo)

Ladle

Onto the recipe!

Print

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Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly

If you’re looking for a sweet n’ spicy appetizer with some extra kick, pour a generous helping of Mom’s hot pepper jelly on softened cream cheese, then snarf it down with crackers. It’s great for holidays and parties, too!

Author: Sarah Fogle

Prep Time: 30

Cook Time: 15

Total Time: 45 minutes

Yield: 4 tall jars

Category: Appetizer

Method: Water bath

Ingredients

3-4 regular-sized bell peppers (we used a few small ones that would probably have equalled one regular one)

4 jalapeño peppers

1 small habanero pepper

1 box package of powdered pectin

1 cup apple cider vinegar

5 cups sugar

Instructions

Sterilize canning jars, lids, and bands according to manufacturer’s instructions. Fill a large pot with water and heat it up on the stove.

Chop peppers into chunks. For less heat, remove seeds (we removed half of the jalapeño seeds in this batch). Put all chopped pieces in blender and blend until there are no large chunks.

Place pepper blend in a large saucepan over high heat, stirring constantly. Add vinegar and pectin and continue stirring until the mixture is at a full rolling boil.

Add sugar and stir, returning to a full roiling boil for exactly 1 minute.

Remove from heat and skim off any foam with a spoon.

Ladle jelly into jars up to 1/4 inch from the top. Cover with lids and bands; screw on tight.

Place jars into canning pot, either on canning rack (slowly lower it into the pot) or (in Mom’s case) with a dish towel on the bottom of the pot to keep the jars from touching. The water should cover the jars and be hot, but not boiling. Bring water to a boil and let process for 5 minutes.

To prevent the seeds from settling on the bottom, flip the jars over for about five minutes while the jelly begins to cool. Turn them right side up to cool for the rest.

You might hear pops from the lids forming a vacuum as the jelly cools. After 12 – 24 hours of cooling, remove the bands and push your finger down on the lids. If the lid still looks like it has a bump and/or flexes when you push down, the lid is unsealed and needs to be immediately stored in the fridge or reprocessed.

Notes

Prepare and sterilize your jars, lids, and bands ahead of time. Here’s a more extensive post on the subject.

Never reuse lids.

Homemade jelly is meant for small batches; doubling up the recipe can mess with the pectin and cause the jelly not to set properly.

If you don’t hear the jelly lid pop, or if you test the lid and it isn’t sealed properly, you can change the lid and reprocess it or immediately put it in the fridge and eat. It will keep for about a week with the lid on in the fridge.

Jelly/jam that’s unopened can last for up to two years if it’s given a proper water bath. Once opened, you can store it in the fridge for up to three months (I’ve read six months online as well, but I’m not sure about that).

Keywords: pepper jelly, pepper jam, jelly and cream cheese appetizer, jalapeño jelly

A Note from Me & Mom:

Instagram is fully responsible for this recipe posting so quickly after this weekend. I went over to Mom and Dad’s with the intention of learning how to make Mom’s pepper jelly from my garden and sharing it on the blog for you at some point. But what I didn’t expect was the number of comments on my post about sharing more from “Cathy’s Kitchen.”

We have lots of family recipes like this, and I’m thrilled that so many of you want the stories that go with (like the time Granny knocked her kitchen timer in a big batch of her Sunday sauce, and we didn’t realize where it had gone until she thawed some out later that year — we still laugh about that one! Recipe coming in a future visit to Mom’s). I’m still pretty new to cooking and have zero intentions of making this blog all about recipes, but I’m glad I get to sprinkle in the things I’m learning as we go, much the same way I have with the rest of my home and DIY journey. And even to those of you who weren’t following when she passed, it means a lot to bring some of her favorite activities to the blog (she also taught me cross stitch, which you’ve already seen here too!).

Don’t forget to pin it to save for later!

The post Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly appeared first on Ugly Duckling House.

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.yuzo_related_post img{width:170px !important; height:170px !important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{line-height:14px;background:#ffffff !important;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover{background:#ffffff !important; -webkit-transition: background 0.2s linear; -moz-transition: background 0.2s linear; -o-transition: background 0.2s linear; transition: background 0.2s linear;;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a{color:#102a3b!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a:hover{ color:#113f5e}!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover a{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo__text--title{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post:hover .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{ margin: 0px 6px 0px 6px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; } jQuery(document).ready(function( $ ){ jQuery('.yuzo_related_post .yuzo_wraps').equalizer({ columns : '> div' }); }); from Home https://www.uglyducklinghouse.com/homemade-hot-pepper-jelly/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[endlessarchite]

Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly

Like many first-time gardeners, my humble backyard garden has produced more vegetables than I know what to do with! So, I spent last Saturday morning with Mom and learned to make hot pepper jelly using several pepper varieties from my vegetable garden: bell peppers, banana peppers, and jalapeños.

I’m sure for the sake of accuracy, I should probably call this jam since we blended the pulp of the peppers and seeds to make it, and jelly is typically made with just the juice of something (or so the internet tells me). But jelly is what Mom calls it, so who am I going to believe?

The process of learning to make jellies, jams, and preserves was a new experience for K and I during our visit. Mom walked us through the steps, equipment, sterilization methods, etc. I’m working on a longer post about general rules of thumb for home canning, so be on the lookout for a separate walkthrough to cover those concepts in more detail. This post is meant mainly for the simple, straightforward recipe, but I have some very basic info here, too.

In order to keep everything as uncontaminated as possible, things moved pretty quickly once it came off of the heat! You’ll need to sterilize your jars before beginning, but Mom keeps them inside the dishwasher (still hot) until they are ready to use, and the lids/bands in a pot of hot water on the stovetop as we prepared the jelly.

Home Canning Supplies

Regular mouth quilted jelly jars

Canning essentials set (for handling the hot lids without contamination, etc.)

Stainless steel canning rack (Mom didn’t have this at the time we made these, so she used a dishtowel on the bottom of the pot instead — but I just picked this up for her as a thank-you for teaching me, so now she’ll have one!)

Large sauce pan

Blender

Large pot (we use Mom’s big crab pot, but you can also buy a pot + canning rack combo)

Ladle

Onto the recipe!

Print

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Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly

If you’re looking for a sweet n’ spicy appetizer with some extra kick, pour a generous helping of Mom’s hot pepper jelly on softened cream cheese, then snarf it down with crackers. It’s great for holidays and parties, too!

Author: Sarah Fogle

Prep Time: 30

Cook Time: 15

Total Time: 45 minutes

Yield: 4 tall jars

Category: Appetizer

Method: Water bath

Ingredients

3-4 regular-sized bell peppers (we used a few small ones that would probably have equalled one regular one)

4 jalapeño peppers

1 small habanero pepper

1 box package of powdered pectin

1 cup apple cider vinegar

5 cups sugar

Instructions

Sterilize canning jars, lids, and bands according to manufacturer’s instructions. Fill a large pot with water and heat it up on the stove.

Chop peppers into chunks. For less heat, remove seeds (we removed half of the jalapeño seeds in this batch). Put all chopped pieces in blender and blend until there are no large chunks.

Place pepper blend in a large saucepan over high heat, stirring constantly. Add vinegar and pectin and continue stirring until the mixture is at a full rolling boil.

Add sugar and stir, returning to a full roiling boil for exactly 1 minute.

Remove from heat and skim off any foam with a spoon.

Ladle jelly into jars up to 1/4 inch from the top. Cover with lids and bands; screw on tight.

Place jars into canning pot, either on canning rack (slowly lower it into the pot) or (in Mom’s case) with a dish towel on the bottom of the pot to keep the jars from touching. The water should cover the jars and be hot, but not boiling. Bring water to a boil and let process for 5 minutes.

To prevent the seeds from settling on the bottom, flip the jars over for about five minutes while the jelly begins to cool. Turn them right side up to cool for the rest.

You might hear pops from the lids forming a vacuum as the jelly cools. After 12 – 24 hours of cooling, remove the bands and push your finger down on the lids. If the lid still looks like it has a bump and/or flexes when you push down, the lid is unsealed and needs to be immediately stored in the fridge or reprocessed.

Notes

Prepare and sterilize your jars, lids, and bands ahead of time. Here’s a more extensive post on the subject.

Never reuse lids.

Homemade jelly is meant for small batches; doubling up the recipe can mess with the pectin and cause the jelly not to set properly.

If you don’t hear the jelly lid pop, or if you test the lid and it isn’t sealed properly, you can change the lid and reprocess it or immediately put it in the fridge and eat. It will keep for about a week with the lid on in the fridge.

Jelly/jam that’s unopened can last for up to two years if it’s given a proper water bath. Once opened, you can store it in the fridge for up to three months (I’ve read six months online as well, but I’m not sure about that).

Keywords: pepper jelly, pepper jam, jelly and cream cheese appetizer, jalapeño jelly

A Note from Me & Mom:

Instagram is fully responsible for this recipe posting so quickly after this weekend. I went over to Mom and Dad’s with the intention of learning how to make Mom’s pepper jelly from my garden and sharing it on the blog for you at some point. But what I didn’t expect was the number of comments on my post about sharing more from “Cathy’s Kitchen.”

We have lots of family recipes like this, and I’m thrilled that so many of you want the stories that go with (like the time Granny knocked her kitchen timer in a big batch of her Sunday sauce, and we didn’t realize where it had gone until she thawed some out later that year — we still laugh about that one! Recipe coming in a future visit to Mom’s). I’m still pretty new to cooking and have zero intentions of making this blog all about recipes, but I’m glad I get to sprinkle in the things I’m learning as we go, much the same way I have with the rest of my home and DIY journey. And even to those of you who weren’t following when she passed, it means a lot to bring some of her favorite activities to the blog (she also taught me cross stitch, which you’ve already seen here too!).

Don’t forget to pin it to save for later!

The post Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly appeared first on Ugly Duckling House.

More Where That Came From

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.yuzo_related_post img{width:170px !important; height:170px !important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{line-height:14px;background:#ffffff !important;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover{background:#ffffff !important; -webkit-transition: background 0.2s linear; -moz-transition: background 0.2s linear; -o-transition: background 0.2s linear; transition: background 0.2s linear;;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a{color:#102a3b!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a:hover{ color:#113f5e}!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover a{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo__text--title{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post:hover .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{ margin: 0px 6px 0px 6px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; } jQuery(document).ready(function( $ ){ jQuery('.yuzo_related_post .yuzo_wraps').equalizer({ columns : '> div' }); }); Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly published first on https://bakerskitchenslimited.tumblr.com/

[darwinbigelow]

Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly

Like many first-time gardeners, my humble backyard garden has produced more vegetables than I know what to do with! So, I spent last Saturday morning with Mom and learned to make hot pepper jelly using several pepper varieties from my vegetable garden: bell peppers, banana peppers, and jalapeños.

I’m sure for the sake of accuracy, I should probably call this jam since we blended the pulp of the peppers and seeds to make it, and jelly is typically made with just the juice of something (or so the internet tells me). But jelly is what Mom calls it, so who am I going to believe?

The process of learning to make jellies, jams, and preserves was a new experience for K and I during our visit. Mom walked us through the steps, equipment, sterilization methods, etc. I’m working on a longer post about general rules of thumb for home canning, so be on the lookout for a separate walkthrough to cover those concepts in more detail. This post is meant mainly for the simple, straightforward recipe, but I have some very basic info here, too.

In order to keep everything as uncontaminated as possible, things moved pretty quickly once it came off of the heat! You’ll need to sterilize your jars before beginning, but Mom keeps them inside the dishwasher (still hot) until they are ready to use, and the lids/bands in a pot of hot water on the stovetop as we prepared the jelly.

Home Canning Supplies

Regular mouth quilted jelly jars

Canning essentials set (for handling the hot lids without contamination, etc.)

Stainless steel canning rack (Mom didn’t have this at the time we made these, so she used a dishtowel on the bottom of the pot instead — but I just picked this up for her as a thank-you for teaching me, so now she’ll have one!)

Large sauce pan

Blender

Large pot (we use Mom’s big crab pot, but you can also buy a pot + canning rack combo)

Ladle

Onto the recipe!

Print

.tasty-recipes-image { float: right; } <p>.tasty-recipes-print-button { background-color: #666677; display: inline-block; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; padding-top: 0.5em; padding-bottom: 0.5em; text-decoration: none; } <p>a.tasty-recipes-print-button { color: #FFF; } a.tasty-recipes-print-button:hover { color: #FFF; } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-10 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 10% 0%, 10% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 10% 0%, 10% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-20 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 20% 0%, 20% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 20% 0%, 20% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-30 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 30% 0%, 30% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 30% 0%, 30% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-40 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 40% 0%, 40% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 40% 0%, 40% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-50 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 50% 0%, 50% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 50% 0%, 50% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-60 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 60% 0%, 60% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 60% 0%, 60% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-70 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 70% 0%, 70% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 70% 0%, 70% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-80 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 80% 0%, 80% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 80% 0%, 80% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-rating.tasty-recipes-clip-90 { -webkit-clip-path: polygon(0 0, 90% 0%, 90% 100%, 0% 100%); clip-path: polygon(0 0, 90% 0%, 90% 100%, 0% 100%); } <p>.tasty-recipes-nutrition ul { list-style-type: none; margin: 0; padding: 0; } .tasty-recipes-nutrition ul:after { display: block; content: ' '; clear: both; } <p>.tasty-recipes-nutrition li { float: left; margin-right: 1em; } <p>@media print { .tasty-recipes-no-print, .tasty-recipes-no-print * { display: none !important; } }

Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly

If you’re looking for a sweet n’ spicy appetizer with some extra kick, pour a generous helping of Mom’s hot pepper jelly on softened cream cheese, then snarf it down with crackers. It’s great for holidays and parties, too!

Author: Sarah Fogle

Prep Time: 30

Cook Time: 15

Total Time: 45 minutes

Yield: 4 tall jars

Category: Appetizer

Method: Water bath

Ingredients

3-4 regular-sized bell peppers (we used a few small ones that would probably have equalled one regular one)

4 jalapeño peppers

1 small habanero pepper

1 box package of powdered pectin

1 cup apple cider vinegar

5 cups sugar

Instructions

Sterilize canning jars, lids, and bands according to manufacturer’s instructions. Fill a large pot with water and heat it up on the stove.

Chop peppers into chunks. For less heat, remove seeds (we removed half of the jalapeño seeds in this batch). Put all chopped pieces in blender and blend until there are no large chunks.

Place pepper blend in a large saucepan over high heat, stirring constantly. Add vinegar and pectin and continue stirring until the mixture is at a full rolling boil.

Add sugar and stir, returning to a full roiling boil for exactly 1 minute.

Remove from heat and skim off any foam with a spoon.

Ladle jelly into jars up to 1/4 inch from the top. Cover with lids and bands; screw on tight.

Place jars into canning pot, either on canning rack (slowly lower it into the pot) or (in Mom’s case) with a dish towel on the bottom of the pot to keep the jars from touching. The water should cover the jars and be hot, but not boiling. Bring water to a boil and let process for 5 minutes.

To prevent the seeds from settling on the bottom, flip the jars over for about five minutes while the jelly begins to cool. Turn them right side up to cool for the rest.

You might hear pops from the lids forming a vacuum as the jelly cools. After 12 – 24 hours of cooling, remove the bands and push your finger down on the lids. If the lid still looks like it has a bump and/or flexes when you push down, the lid is unsealed and needs to be immediately stored in the fridge or reprocessed.

Notes

Prepare and sterilize your jars, lids, and bands ahead of time. Here’s a more extensive post on the subject.

Never reuse lids.

Homemade jelly is meant for small batches; doubling up the recipe can mess with the pectin and cause the jelly not to set properly.

If you don’t hear the jelly lid pop, or if you test the lid and it isn’t sealed properly, you can change the lid and reprocess it or immediately put it in the fridge and eat. It will keep for about a week with the lid on in the fridge.

Jelly/jam that’s unopened can last for up to two years if it’s given a proper water bath. Once opened, you can store it in the fridge for up to three months (I’ve read six months online as well, but I’m not sure about that).

Keywords: pepper jelly, pepper jam, jelly and cream cheese appetizer, jalapeño jelly

A Note from Me & Mom:

Instagram is fully responsible for this recipe posting so quickly after this weekend. I went over to Mom and Dad’s with the intention of learning how to make Mom’s pepper jelly from my garden and sharing it on the blog for you at some point. But what I didn’t expect was the number of comments on my post about sharing more from “Cathy’s Kitchen.”

We have lots of family recipes like this, and I’m thrilled that so many of you want the stories that go with (like the time Granny knocked her kitchen timer in a big batch of her Sunday sauce, and we didn’t realize where it had gone until she thawed some out later that year — we still laugh about that one! Recipe coming in a future visit to Mom’s). I’m still pretty new to cooking and have zero intentions of making this blog all about recipes, but I’m glad I get to sprinkle in the things I’m learning as we go, much the same way I have with the rest of my home and DIY journey. And even to those of you who weren’t following when she passed, it means a lot to bring some of her favorite activities to the blog (she also taught me cross stitch, which you’ve already seen here too!).

Don’t forget to pin it to save for later!

The post Mom’s Quick and Easy Hot Pepper Jelly appeared first on Ugly Duckling House.

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Herbed Goat Cheese Crostini with Roasted Cherry To...

Chicken Enchilada Dip is Cheesy Goodness

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.yuzo_related_post img{width:170px !important; height:170px !important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{line-height:14px;background:#ffffff !important;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover{background:#ffffff !important; -webkit-transition: background 0.2s linear; -moz-transition: background 0.2s linear; -o-transition: background 0.2s linear; transition: background 0.2s linear;;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a{color:#102a3b!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a:hover{ color:#113f5e}!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover a{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo__text--title{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post:hover .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{ margin: 0px 6px 0px 6px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; } jQuery(document).ready(function( $ ){ jQuery('.yuzo_related_post .yuzo_wraps').equalizer({ columns : '> div' }); }); from Home Improvement https://www.uglyducklinghouse.com/homemade-hot-pepper-jelly/ via http://www.rssmix.com/