#lodge handouts

[after-witch]

Bright Lights (Small Spaces Quartet Sequel) (Chapter 2)

Title: Bright Lights (Chapter 2) A03 LINK

Synopsis: Sam tells her friends about her mom's refusal to sign the permission slip for the circus, and they have a plan.

Word count: appx 1700

“You’ve never been to a circus? Like, never never?”

Owen Sannerson’s eyebrows raised in scrupulous disbelief. He had moved to Evansburg two years ago, and while Sam and Elisa considered him a best friend by now, he still had a hard time accepting that Samantha Adler simply didn’t do what most teens her age did.

Sam shrugged. She wanted to change the subject. She also wanted to finish her sandwich before the cheese got all cold and gloppy, and maybe work on her poems one more time before English class. Anything to forget about the permission slip and poster handout that Elisa had slapped in the center of the table at the start of lunch period, eager to find out exactly what had happened with Sam’s mom.

“Nope. Too much like a carnival, I guess, and my mom hates those.” Sam made a sour face. She didn’t really like talking all the things she couldn’t do, especially after this morning’s latest rejection. If she piled all the cool field trips or friend hang-outs she had to stay back from on top of one another, it might just reach the top of a skyscraper.

“She hates farms, too,” Elisa chimed in, popping a lukewarm fry into her mouth. “And ski lodges, unless it’s the Battersby’s place.”

Sam sighed and took another bite of her sandwich. Blech. Too late. The cheese was gloppy. Yet another reason to ask grandpa to teach her his recipes, so she didn’t have to put up with school lunch.

Elisa curled a bit of her shoulder-length dark hair around a finger. She was wearing her in-school hockey jersey and cozy sweatpants. The team had a game next week and Elisa never missed a chance to get hyped, especially now that she was taking lessons from Sam’s uncle Brian. He ran a sports camp in the next town over and offered lessons in just about any sport imaginable; even games like chess, although those classes were taught by his wife Coco.

Elisa tapped the unsigned permission slip with her short fingernail.

“Do you remember when she flipped out when we were supposed to go to the re-opening day of Misty Valley Farm, or whatever they renamed it?”

Sam wished she could forget. That was back in 6th grade. Sam wasn’t allowed to go to the farm with the rest of her class, but she’d cried so pitifully to her teacher Mrs. Norris that the sweet lady had called Sam’s mom on the spot to ask permission as the buses were being loaded.

That had ended with Olivia Adler peeling up to the school in her car about 15 minutes later and taking Sam home for the day while a bewildered Mrs. Norris and snickering classmates had watched.

The car ride home had been quiet, save for Sam’s occasional sniffles. At a stoplight, her mom had turned to her, and opened her mouth as if she wanted to explain something… but she only closed it again and drove them home without another word.

It was always like that, like there was something her mom really wanted to tell her that would explain away everything; but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It made Sam mad. More than that, it was frustrating. Couldn’t her mom see that she was old enough to take care of herself? Couldn’t her mom see that she didn’t need to be coddled all the time?

Although a small part of her wanted to defend her mom. There was clearly something going on that made her act this way, when she was otherwise pretty rational, as far as parents went. The divorce probably didn’t help things. And grandpa being sick didn’t help things. That’s why they had to move back to the Egg in the first place.

Sam sighed and shoved her lunch tray to the side, suddenly not feeling very hungry. “It’s shitty. But what can I do? I guess I’ll be 18 before I see a circus or go to a farm.” She snorted through her nose at the thought of scampering up to farm animals or picking pumpkins for the first time after graduating high school.

Elisa was uncharacteristically quiet. This usually meant that she was coming up with a plan or a scheme--with Elisa, plans and schemes tended to amount to the same thing.

“Elisa,” she said slowly, carefully.

Elisa looked at Owen, who held her gaze before suddenly becoming very interested in his lap.

“What?” said Sam, half-worried, half-excited. 

Elisa’s chair screeched as she scooted closer to Sam, before gesturing for Owen to do the same. He tucked a stray piece of his chin length blonde hair behind his ear and copied Elisa, until the three of them were close enough to whisper.

“So, me and Owen have been talking,” Elisa began, pulling the permission slip from the center of the table until it was right in front of Sam. “And here’s the plan. You forge your mom’s signature. Go on the trip. Have some fun for once in your life.” She tapped the paper decisively. “Your mom never has to find out. Perfect plan, right?”

Was it possible for your stomach to drop out from underneath you? Sam thought it might be possible, because that’s what her stomach was currently doing, gloppy cheese and all.

“I can’t.” Her words were stiff. “My mom would know. Or she’d find out. I’d be in trouble.” A half-laugh forced its way out of Sam’s throat. “No, I’d be grounded for the rest of my life and even after that. She’d ground my ghost.”

Elisa began to twirl the paper on the table with her finger. “Not if you pretend to be super upset about not going before and after the trip and she never finds out you went…”

“I’m not that good an actor,” Sam mumbled.

“I can give you tips!” Owen said suddenly, sitting up a little straighter. “I’ve only done tech here but I’m really into acting.”

Sam sighed. Then put both hands on her cheeks and shut her eyes and groaned. The idea was tempting. It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered it before. But the fear of her mom finding out always outweighed the desire to go through with it.

“C’mon, Sam.” Elisa picked up the circus poster handout that their teacher Mr. Wheeling had given them two weeks ago. “There hasn’t been a circus here since… I can’t even remember one coming to Evansburg.  You have to go.”

The poster was crinkled a little from being in Sam’s backpack, but at least it wasn’t torn. It was designed to look old-fashioned, which Sam supposed was “in” nowadays. There was an illustration featuring a cluster of tents, and a banner across the top that said: “MR. ELIM’S CIRCUS. ALL AGES WELCOME.”

At the bottom of the poster, there was a close-up illustration of a man in a ringmaster’s uniform gazing up at the tent and grinning. Something about him was a little unnerving, like his grin was too big or something. Sam wondered if her friends felt the same; but probably not, especially Elisa, who didn’t even flinch when they’d watched IT Chapter One and Two in Owen’s basement last Halloween. Sam, by contrast, had slept with her desk lamp on for a week.

Next to the ringmaster were a series of faded blue banners that described circus acts.

“FEROCIOUS BEASTS! SEE TIGERS TAMED!

FLYING TRAPEZE! DEATH-DEFYING HEIGHTS!

REAL LIVE FIRE BREATHERS! HOTTER THAN HADES!

ENDLESS SIGHTS THAT WILL ASTOUND AND AMAZE!

PERFORMANCES YOU WILL NEVER FORGET!”

They did sound amazing and astounding and wonderful.

And her mom would never, ever let her see them.

And even if Sam did try to forge her mom’s signature and go on the trip, who’s to say she wouldn’t find out somehow, anyway? Sam might pop in the background of someone’s video online or Mr. Wheeling would call Olivia to say how glad he was that Sam was going on a field trip for once.

Besides, Sam was too scared to forge her mom’s signature. Especially on something as serious--well, in the Adler household, it was serious--as this.

Sam felt a familiar tightness in her chest begin to grow and pushed back from her chair. Before Owen or Elisa could say anything, she grabbed both papers and shoved them deep into her backpack.

“Sam,” Owen said, and reached out to touch her on the arm. Owen was good at one-on-one talks like this, sort of like her grandpa. But she didn’t feel like being reassured right now. She just wanted to be mad at the unfairness of her life.

“My mom would find out,” Sam said shortly, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder. “Or I’d mess it up somehow and blab or copy her signature wrong or…” She sighed. “Sorry.”

Owen did touch Sam’s arm, then, and looked incredibly thoughtful.

“Why don’t you ask your mom again tonight? Like, sit her down and have a full-on discussion about it? Maybe you can find the website for this circus or whatever and show her that it’s not a big deal. It did say all ages, so it’s got to be mild enough for little kids.”

Sam shook her head, but didn’t outright say she wouldn’t do it. Owen was just giving her advice. She couldn’t be mad at him for that, even if it was something she’d tried to do on her own countless times over the years.

And maybe… maybe her mom would listen, if she took the time to explain. Her mom had been in a rush that morning, what with Sam running late. Her mom was always stressed in the morning, especially if her grandpa needed help during the night.

Was it worth a shot?

Sam nodded at Owen and tried to smile, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. “Maybe. Text me after school, guys. Or during 6th period, I’ll have my sound off. I gotta go to the bathroom before lunch ends.”

With that, Sam Adler walked away from her friends with thoughts of permission slips and serious discussions weaving heavily on her mind.

“Tell your mom, it’s just a circus!” Elisa called out after Sam, all 15 years of her life experience weighing behind each word. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

[m-to-the-6th-power]

Happy WIP Wednesday here's chapter 2. Chapter 1 is

"You're my father?" Gideon asked slowly, as if turning the word over and over in her mouth, testing and finding it smooth and warm, like good bari. When his last sentence sunk in, her brain flashed to Drearburh, a sharp chin and pointy elbows, nails that had tasted her flesh and found it good. "I have a commission, I am not returning to the Ninth."

The man gave what was second cousin to a grin at her vehemence, causing her back to raise further before he opened his mouth. "Not the Ninth. Home, with me. With us, my family."

Gideon felt her head spinning, faster and faster. She looked up from her cot, the only bed she'd known outside of her cell at the ninth, at the man who said he was her father and said the first thing that came to mind, "My release from the Ninth was the commission. My pay was meant to be garnished to pay my debt off until I could start getting rewards and then that'd start paying it. I can't leave that, I won't let them have me back."

The lyctor shook his head, "They have been dealt with. That's part of what took me so long to collect you," He looked down at the floor, pausing for a long moment. "I talked to my boss. He's paid off your debt, and given that you're my kid, he wants  you to come to the first house. He also feels like he's missed 19 years of birthday gifts from Uncle John. He said that instead of giving you toys you'd hate or have outgrown that he'd just give you the cash he would've spent on every birthday instead."

He then said a number with a truly astonishing number of digits, not even considering the commas involved. Gideon felt her mouth drop. "Not like I'm not grateful, because believe me, I am. I most definitely am. But I made it here because of my training and willingness to work hard. I don't need a handout from some guy I've never met."

Gideon Pyrrha nodded, pacing back and forth, his center of gravity never once deviating as he said, "I understand that, I would expect nothing less from my daughter. So in the interest of getting to know my daughter, I'll offer you a job. In my advanced age, I find myself in need of an assistant. It won't be all filing and looking after me, I can make you one of the deadliest humans alive, not bound by the limitations or pain of lyctoral magic."

Gideon Nav snorted at the attempt at humor, the same warmth filling her as when she found out Aiglaminaie had staked her reputation on Gideon when she first heard the word daughter come from his lips. She thought of training under this man who moved with a grace she supremely envied, and she felt the faint stirrings of want bubble up inside her chest. "I'll do it," she said after a moment of thought."But I have a favor I want in return."

"Tell me what your heart desires, and I'll see what I can do."

Gideon approached, back straight and voice dropped low enough so that the sound wouldn't carry through the door. "I have someone here. I promised him that I'd look out for him too," Gideon said, "I want him as my bodyguard. I'm sure there'll be people who will try to hurt me once they learn I'm your daughter. You can't always be around, so someone watching my back would be appreciated."

The Saint of Duty looks thoughtful. "That job is normally done by your necromancer. You do have a necromancer don't you?" 

Gideon felt those fingers on her back, working over every knob of her spine slowly and deliberately as a pointed chin and elbows like knives flashed through her mind as she jerked her head back and forth. She couldn't speak through the knot of emotion, hatred certainly, that suddenly lodged in her throat. 

"We'll need to see about getting you assigned one. We'll be training hard, and I don't have the skill with healing necromancy that my colleagues have," The Saint admitted. "'Plus, the more you work with a single necromancer, the more in tune with your body they get. It's a good benefit to have."

Gideon remembered briefly, 'The Fourth is all about fidelity.' "I have a bridge that I'd really like to try to mend. She's a necromancer in the cohort. I don't know if she'd want to come with me, but I would like to try."

The Saint waved a hand carelessly, like it barely mattered one way or another to him, "You have 3 days. When John found out I was coming to the cohort, he asked me to look over everything here. After that, I'm going to cash in some vacation days, and we are going to travel a bit before going home."

Gideon nodded, her head jerking like a skeleton made by the same adept that had fixed up Aiglaminaies leg. That word again, home, filled her with visions of Drearburh dirt even with his assurances. "That... that sounds good," Gideon said, her stomach giving a low rumble. "I'll let you get to your task. I'm going to go and get food and talk to some people."

"If you need to find me, ask for the command room. Anyone on this post will be able to give you directions," The man said before glancing around the room, "I'll have your stuff moved to the guest quarters. Let me know how everything goes, if I need to update the travel plans it's better to know early."

Gideon nodded as she, unconsciously, took up a defensive sword stance and held out a hand, "It's good to finally meet you," Gideon finally said, leaving so much unsaid in her mind. 'I always wanted someone to find me. I wondered who would've ever wanted me. I can't believe it's you. I'm so glad it's you,' getting stuck in her throat, all crowded together like each had an arm or leg out of the door but none of them let the others through. 

The Saint took her hand with a grimace so full of sadness it almost hurt Gideon herself, "I wish I'd known you sooner," The Saint began before Gideon's stomach interrupted again, a truer grin spreading, "Go, talk to your friends. You can give me updates over dinner tonight."

Gideon gave another jerky nod before walking around the lyctor and out the door. On the other side she found Anastas leaning against the far wall. "Hey, I'm about to get some food. Any chance we could talk at some point today?" Gideon asked. 

Anastas grinned at her, "I'm off duty now little cousin. I'm gonna go grab a nap, but afterwards, I need to know everything."

Gideon gave him a grin in return, approaching and clapping both hands on his shoulders. "I'll find you. I have a favor to ask you, but I want you to be in a good mood."

Anastas turned, throwing an arm over Gideon's shoulder and leading her down the hall. "Heard from on high that you were gonna be getting out today after your visitor. Figured I'd take the opportunity to show my baby cousin around," Anastas said, ruffling Gideon's hair. 

Anastas kept talking as they walked, using his free hand to gesture around at places that he thought Gideon would need to know. After pointing out the library, the PX, sparring and exercise rooms, one of which had a pool, Anastas gestured broadly to a set of double doors. "This is where the magic happens. The cafeteria," Anastas said, ruffling Gideon's hair again, "Have a good lunch kid. I'm on the ninth floor, 969. (Nice!) Just find me once you're ready and we'll sit down and have a chat."

Gideon gave him a grin and a nod before turning to the doors, striding in bold as daybreak. A face turned towards the doors once they opened, tan skin and black eyes boring into hers. As Gideon met those eyes, her feet tangled together, tripping her up and splaying her forward. After a long moment of mentally kicking her own ass, Gideon used her arms to push herself up, "Eleanor? Hi, can I um, can I buy you lunch?" Gideon asked, the word fidelity rattling around in her brain. 

Eleanor sniffed, a sound that reminded Gideon forcibly of Harrowhark, before turning to meet her eyes. "If I say yes, will you explain where you've been hiding for the past two and a half weeks Gideon?" She asked archly, voice dripping with scorn. 

Gideon couldn't stop her fist from pumping at the reply, seeing Eleanor's eyes roll as her lips curled up minutely at the edges. "Yes, of course I will," Gideon said, approaching Eleanor and offering her elbow. When Eleanor wrapped one small hand around her elbow to help herself to her feet Gideon was unable to stop the thrill running through her. Once they started walking and Eleanor wrapped both hands around, Gideon thought she could die happily. 

That is until, after getting their food, Eleanor's hands tightened around Gideon's elbow like a necromantic vice grip. As they approached their table, Eleanor spoke with a low voice, "I told you when we were waiting that the fourth is all about fidelity Gideon Nav. After taking your picture, you disappear for two weeks, no notes, no messages, nothing. Then, a man who I can only assume is some family of yours, father perhaps, approaches me while I'm leaving breakfast and tells me that you're going to be in here for lunch. I want an explanation."

Gideon set the tray down, mourning the loss of touch as she said, "My dad was still in the cell when I left."

"The cell?!!?"

"Yeah, you know how I said they'd have to lock me up to keep me away? Well, they did. Apparently it was under suspicion of being Commander Wake Me Up Inside or something, like that classic song," Gideon said, running a hand through her hair. 

Eleanor covered her face at that, the skin around her ears turning a very fetching color with the blush Gideon could just barely make out. "I thought you'd ditched me after the pictures. That when you'd gone for the physical that maybe you'd met a nice other soldier and um, hit it off, you know cav for cav and all that." 

Gideon felt her brain screech to a complete and utter standstill at that, imagining the only cavalier she had ever known trying to romance her. Ew, gross, disgusting, the worst. Gideon couldn't help the noise she made at the thought, and got to see a smile bloom on Eleanor's face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. My sister and her necromancer are really close, but after they got measles they missed the chance to join up this year, and right before I left she started dating another cavalier on the fourth. So it was on my mind I guess."

Gideon waved a hand, finally banishing the thought of Ortus Nigenad reciting poetry to her to the same box holding her imagining of Crux's butt and shoving it next to the box labeled 'Thoughts of Harrowhark Nonagesimus' the other box she would definitely never open again. "No, it's okay. Just the only Cavalier I've ever met was a dough-faced mommas boy with a persistent case of hyperthyroidism, so imagining him was... disturbing."

Eleanor gave a laugh that buoyed Gideon, like putting a padlock on those boxes, and took a bite of food. "Again, sorry about that. You were saying before my interruption?"

"So they locked me up. I managed to make friends with one of my guards, Anastas, and it helped me get through it. But earlier today my dad apparently showed up. He's an undead king's jester or something. Said he's gonna take me home with him and give me a job as his secretary," Gideon said, pausing to look over at her audience. " He said I would need a necromancer to look out for me, and I don't want some random stuffy cohort necro assigned to me. I was hoping you'd come with me? I'm sure you'll get paid too," Gideon added as Eleanor took too long to answer. 

Eleanor blinked once, twice, three times before opening her mouth. "Did he say he was a Fist and Gesture to the King Undying?" She finally asked, voice faint. 

Gideon snapped, pointing at Eleanor, "That's the bitch. Why? Is that important or something?"

Eleanor started at Gideon, mouth opening and closing wordlessly before she seemed to marshal her thoughts. "I thought the ninth was supposed to be hyper religious. Did you sleep through your church services?"

"Yes."

"Lyctors are immortal Gideon. They can't be killed. They don't age, they've been alive for a myriad. One being your father is not only astounding, but it gives you immense, and I mean truly immense political power," Eleanor said, voice growing faster as she talked. She slipped one hand over to Gideon, brushing her fingers over Gideon's knuckles as she continued, "I'll come with you. Not because your dad's a lyctor, but because you got thrown in jail after only getting your picture taken. I came to the cohort because I wanted adventure, and you seem like one hell of an adventure Gideon Nav." 

Gideon gave Eleanor a lopsided grin, turning her hand palm up and catching Eleanor's fingers gently with her own, "Does this mean I'm forgiven for missing our date?"

"You will be forgiven on two conditions," Eleanor began, holding up her free hand and ticking points off her fingers. "First, you consider this our actual first date," Gideon nodded emphatically. "Second, you walk me back to my room, a chaste kiss on the cheek is optional, but highly encouraged."

Gideon felt heat working up from her neck to the tips of her ears. "Yeah, of course, I mean yes, I mean that sounds like a great idea!" Gideon babbled, only pausing when Eleanor squeezed her hand. 

"Let's go then," Eleanor said, tilting her head. Bringing a hand up to hide a smile when Gideon stood entirely too fast, scraping the floor with her chair and causing every eye in the room to turn and look at them. 

Gideon bussed their tray, refusing to look away from any of the eyes following her. When she got back to Eleanor she offered her elbow again, and felt a surge of pleasure as she felt those thin fingers wrap around her arm again. Her second hand came to rest around Gideon's bicep, and she couldn't help but flex the tiniest bit. Eleanor's 'Ohh wow', sotto voce, gave Gideon the tiniest hint of a swagger.

When they approached Eleanor's room, 420, Gideon couldn't help but laugh. She had read the classics, she couldn't imagine the prim, proper, and put together necromancer next to her sitting in a smoky room with a shag rug staring at her own hands. 

Eleanor very gently pulled Gideon to a stop, letting her hands roam down Gideon's forearm. Eleanor's hands squeezing over Gideon's biceps before coming to rest in her hands. "Thank you for walking me home," Eleanor said, fingers squeezing Gideon's palm gently before letting go and taking a step back. 

Gideon felt her hand tingling as Eleanor stepped away, feeling her words stuck in her throat. She managed to raise her hand, fingers gently brushing against Eleanor's cheek, curling under the back edge of her jaw before leaning forward and barely brushing her lips against Eleanor's cheek. "No problem," Gideon whispered, afraid to break the moment, "Happy to be of service."

Eleanor turned her face into Gideon's palm, lips pressing firmly into the dip before turning back to Gideon with a grin. "A fitting thanks for your service," Eleanor said before turning and bolting into her room, leaving Gideon gobsmacked. 

Gideon stood in the hall for what could've been five minutes, five hours, or half a myriad, staring at her hand, expecting a smudge of... grease paint something for some reason and feeling disappointed. Once she felt time properly reassert itself, Gideon wandered aimlessly, finding her way back to the PX.

Once she was in, she found an empty store with an entire section of titerature, a truly astonishing number of magazines. 'First House', 'Cavs Cavs Cavs', 'Cavs Gone Wild', and 'The Kindly Price of Small Deaths'. She wanted so badly to show them to Harrow, her prudish brain would probably explode seeing the "sick pornographies" in front of her. 

Gideon browsed for a bit, wondering if they were just out of stock of 'Fidelity of the Fourth' or 'Naughty Nuns of the Ninth'. Once she stuck her courage to its sticking place, she asked a clerk if they had any old copies. The clerk, a very pretty girl, gave her an indulgent grin, seemingly biting back a smile. "Oh, those don't exist. They're a running joke. Like 'Frontline Titties of the Fifth', the older soldiers use it to rib the new recruits."

Gideon couldn't help it, she sank down to her knees in front of the counter, hands in her hair and elbows on the counter. "He lied to me?" Gideon wailed playfully, looking up at the girl beseechingly, seeing the smile finally break on her face. When she noticed the girl bite her lip to hold in a laugh, Gideon sprang back to her feet with a grin. "Well, thanks for your help. I really appreciate it!"

Gideon heard the girl laugh behind her, feeling her steps barely touch the floor. Finally, she had people who appreciated her particular brand of humor. She made her way to the ninth floor habitat level, she saw more than a few knuckle bone rosaries hanging on doors like talismans. It was nostalgic in a strange way. When she found Anastas' door, she began hammering it. 

Gideon stopped after an, "I'm coming," call came through the door. "You're gonna knock hard enough to roll away the boulder and wake up whatever's in that tomb," Anastas said as he pulled the door open, scratching at his stomach over a cohort undershirt and ice gray sweats. 

Seeing him like that, completely at his ease, Gideon thought he looked like a dad straight out of one of her more wholesome comics. She shoved that thought to the side and ruthlessly gave it a wedgie for good measure. "You lied to me," She said without preamble, crossing her arms. "And worse than that, you set me up on a date. And worse even than that, you implied that I was into (gag, ick) Harrowhark Nonagesimus."

Anastas rocked back on his heels, taking the accusations like the obvious punch in the gut they were intended to be. "Okay, starting from the end and working back," Anastas said, gesturing Gideon into his room. "I did not imply shit. You, little cousin, are the one who talks in her sleep moaning about the girl, saying 'I never wanted to leave you,' 'I miss you,' 'I can't wait to see you again,' every night like it's a prayer."

Gideon held up a finger, cutting him off. "About Eleanor. I did not want to get thrown in jail and miss my first ever date. I kept dreaming about getting to see her again," Gideon said, stridently ignoring how many of her dreams included the sneered word 'Griddle'.

Anastas spread his hands, as if to say, 'You're welcome'. "Which is why you're so angry that I got Eleanor to meet you. I understand completely," Anastas said, understanding nothing. "What's this about me lying to you?"

"You lied to me about something important. Something you should never lie to someone else about," Gideon said, walking around gesticulating wildly before leveling an accusatory finger at Anastas. "I went into the PX trying to find those magazines you mentioned. I expected to find some stupendous works of a titty nature. I found nothing but deceit!" Gideon couldn't help the grin she felt forming on her lips but she couldn't resist putting on a show when possible. "I asked the clerk Anastas, she was soooooo cute. I asked her for skin mags, and she laughed at me Anastas."

Anastas couldn't stop the grin forming on his face, trying admirably to look appropriately grave and serious. "Did the date go that badly?" Anastas asked, finally smothering his smile. 

"The date went fine," Gideon said, "But I doubt there'll be a second. There's all the cohort rules about necromancer and cavalier relationships. I figure I'd pick up some magazines to keep me company on those cold nights."

"No one cares about those as long as you can be discreet, and no one ends up in a family way, it's completely fine," Anastas said, waving a hand. "Especially around here it's mostly fresh recruits hooking up with people outside their house, and the cohort really cares about cross cultural sharing."

"Okay, so keep it on the downlow and wrap it up first, understood," Gideon said, watching Anastas flush before chuckling. "Where did you come up with the fake titles? I gotta know before the serious talk."

"Oh well, when I first started was right around the time they first put out the fake advert for 'Frontline Titties of the Fifth'," Anastas said, lounging against the wall. "Me and some of the other recruits at the time were laughing at it and came up with other joke titles to mess with newbies, each from our own house. The only other recruit I can remember the name of is Sarpedon. He came up with 'Seasoned Military Discipline of the Second.'"

"So you came up with 'Naughty Nuns of the Ninth'?" Gideon asked, aghast. Every thought of Anastas recalibrating in her mind in moments. 

"Have you ever seen pictures of the Reverend Mother from 20 years ago?" Anastas asked Gideon, looking off into the distance. "Homina homina homina."

Gideon gestured into the room, taking a seat after Anastas sat down, lightly slapping her face. "Okay, great, good to know, really. But time for a serious conversation, yeah?"

At Anastas' confused look and gesture, Gideon continued. "So, the guy that came today was my dad. He's apparently some big important dude. He asked me to be his secretary, I think more as a ploy to get to know me than any need for help, but I wanna do it. I promised you that when I moved up in the world I'd look after you, so I'd like for you to join me as a bodyguard. There's not gonna be any more Niner kids coming through needing your guidance. But you were my family before I met my dad. I still need you there. I trust you. "

Anastas looked gobsmacked, taking in the absolute torrent of information that Gideon had unloaded straight into his face. "You want me as a bodyguard? I've been on duty watching over prisoners for 19 years. I'm certainly not a good fit. I bet even Orty could take me down."

Gideon waved her hands as if she could clear away his objections. "He said he'd train me. I doubt he'd turn you down. Even if he did, you can exercise while I train with him, then I'll train you. We'll get you back in shape. Please Anastas, I made a promise, let me keep it."

Anastas slumped down, looking almost defeated. "Fine, I'll do it. I'm not cut out for this, the killing."

"You'll have to kill being a bodyguard."

"I don't mind killing people that will hurt me. But I hate flipping planets. That's why I'm a jailer. The kids I deal with don't come to me run through," Anastas paused as if contemplating. "Plus, I'll finally be able to get a beer in peace."

Gideon could feel the confusion writ large on her face as she looked at Anastas. His only response was a sneering, "Chicken shits don't get beer."

[ankerwireles]

How to Make Hybrid Events More Sustainable

In today's world, hybrid events have emerged as a popular solution, combining the best of both in-person and virtual experiences. They offer flexibility, accessibility, and a broader reach. However, as we look towards the future, it's crucial to focus on making these events sustainable. Here are some strategies to ensure your hybrid events leave a positive impact on the environment:

1. Optimize Energy Use

Energy consumption is a significant concern for any event. For hybrid events, it's essential to ensure both physical venues and virtual platforms are energy-efficient. Use energy-efficient lighting, heating, and cooling systems at your venues. Encourage remote participants to use energy-saving devices and settings.

2. Reduce Waste

Hybrid events can generate a lot of waste, from printed materials to single-use plastics. To minimize this, go digital with your event materials. Use apps or online platforms for schedules, brochures, and handouts. Provide reusable or biodegradable options for physical attendees and encourage them to bring their own reusable items.

3. Sustainable Travel and Accommodation

Travel is one of the biggest contributors to an event's carbon footprint. Promote virtual attendance to reduce the need for travel. For those who need to travel, encourage the use of public transport or carpooling. Partner with eco-friendly hotels and accommodations to ensure sustainable lodging options for your attendees.

4. Eco-Friendly Venue Choices

When selecting a venue, consider its sustainability practices. Choose venues that have green certifications and are committed to reducing their environmental impact. Ensure the venue has recycling and composting programs, energy-efficient facilities, and supports local and sustainable catering options.

5. Carbon Offsetting

Despite best efforts, some carbon emissions are inevitable. Consider partnering with organizations that offer carbon offset programs. Calculate the carbon footprint of your event and invest in projects that offset these emissions, such as reforestation or renewable energy projects.

6. Sustainable Catering

Food and beverage choices can significantly impact sustainability. Choose caterers who source locally and seasonally, reduce food waste, and use sustainable packaging. Offer plant-based menu options, which generally have a lower environmental impact than meat-based dishes.

7. Encourage Attendee Participation

Educate and engage your attendees about the importance of sustainability. Provide information on how they can contribute, whether by reducing their own waste, opting for sustainable travel options, or supporting green initiatives.

8. Leverage Technology

Use technology to minimize the environmental impact of your hybrid events. Virtual platforms reduce the need for travel and printed materials. Invest in robust virtual event software that offers high-quality streaming and interaction features to make remote participation as engaging as possible.

9. Measure and Report

Track the sustainability metrics of your event, including energy use, waste generation, and carbon footprint. Reporting these metrics helps in understanding the impact and planning for more sustainable future events. Share your achievements with your attendees to inspire and encourage continued efforts towards sustainability.

Conclusion

Making hybrid events more sustainable requires a comprehensive approach that considers every aspect of the event, from planning to execution. By implementing these strategies, you can significantly reduce the environmental impact of your events while still providing a rich and engaging experience for all attendees. Sustainability is not just a trend but a responsibility we all share, and hybrid events are a perfect opportunity to demonstrate our commitment to a greener future.Anker Wireless, Inc. is leading the industry in two-way radio rentals across the country

[slimeyslimeyballsack]

midnight monday snippet tagged by @opheliathiams like? a year ago. its midnight monday in my heart

The malice in Liams eyes grew and they began to glow. He shook for several moments before turning around and knocking everything off his desk, including a vase full of flowers he had gotten for Theo. Theo didn't have anywhere to put them, not having been able to afford any shelving in the minimalist studio apartment he was renting. Liam had offered to keep them here until he could afford at least buy a table or something. He refused to take the handout Derek had offered. He was already taking enough with the discounted rent. He watched as the glass shattered everywhere, cutting into Liam's arms and face. The cuts refused to heal, the glass still lodged in them. His lack of response to the pain is what really scared Theo.

"What the hell, man! I'm sorry. Okay? I really didn't think it counted," Theo huffed.

He fought the urge to run. Six months ago he wouldn't have even let himself get into this situation to run from in the first place, but, god, was Liam addictive.

Liam refused to look up from the floor, blood dripped down his nose, down his fingers, and onto the carpet. The urge to clean away the blood, came again, warring with his urge to flee.

"Li- Liam, I'm sorry. I'll just..." he moved to leave, to give Liam the space he clearly needed.

Liam caught his wrist. He turned to see tears streaming down his face. Liam pulled him into a tight hug, pulling Theo's head into the crook of his neck. Theo sighed into it. He wasn't a failure. He wasn't a failure.

"You're not a failure," Liam read his mind. "Sucess," he pushed back Theo's hair with both hands, pushing their foreheads together. "Success."

Silent sobs wracked his body. The Theo before Liam didn't cry. Not anymore. Liam unlocked something in him again. He felt every emotion so strongly now. Grief, rage, sorrow, love. Which honestly was incredibly inconvenient when Liam kept inspiring emotional revelations in him. Liam pulled Theo's head into the crook of his neck, petting his hair.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Liam whispered.

"No I'm–"

"You didn't deserve that. Me being angry or-" Liam took a small breath. "Or what they did to you."

Theo went to speak, but Liam cut him off, "It doesn't count. Okay?"

Liam knew exactly what he was thinking again. He'd gotten good at that recently: reading Theo. It made him want to cry all over again.

"I want to talk about it," Theo murmered.

_

we're rockin and rollin. Open tag because I can't for the life of me remember who writes on here. Do tag me if you share a snippet tho

[sa7abnews]

Thai politics braces for shakeup after court dismisses PM Srettha Thavisin

New Post has been published on https://sa7ab.info/2024/08/16/thai-politics-braces-for-shakeup-after-court-dismisses-pm-srettha-thavisin/

Thai politics braces for shakeup after court dismisses PM Srettha Thavisin

Thailand’s Constitutional Court on Wednesday dismissed Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin and ruled he “grossly” violated ethics by appointing a minister who was once jailed, raising the spectre of political upheaval and a shakeup in the governing alliance.Real estate tycoon Srettha is the fourth premier in 16 years to be removed in verdicts by the same court, underlining the central role Thailand’s judiciary has played in its long political crisis.THAILAND’S SENATE APPROVES HISTORIC BILL LEGALIZING SAME-SEX MARRIAGESSrettha’s exit after less than a year in power means parliament must choose a new premier on Friday, with the prospect of more uncertainty in a country dogged by coups and court rulings that have brought down multiple governments and political parties.His Pheu Thai Party, the biggest in the coalition, moved quickly to try to shore up its alliance and said it would meet early on Thursday to choose its candidate for prime minister ahead of a special session of parliament to vote on a new premier.Pheu Thai and its predecessors have borne the brunt of Thailand’s turmoil, with two governments removed by coups in a long-running grudge match between the party’s founders, the billionaire Shinawatra family, and their influential rivals in the conservative establishment and royalist military.The judges ruled 5-4 in favour of dismissing Srettha, saying he failed to perform his duty with integrity.”The accused is terminated as prime minister due to his lack of honesty,” the judges said, adding his behaviour “grossly breached ethical standards”.The decision was the court’s second bombshell in the space of a week following its dissolution of the opposition Move Forward Party – the 2023 election winner – over a campaign to amend a law against insulting the crown, which it said risked undermining the constitutional monarchy.Move Forward has already regrouped as a new party, promising to further its anti-establishment agenda.Both rulings came at a tricky time for an economy that Srettha struggled to jumpstart, with weak exports and consumer spending, sky-high household debt and more than a million businesses unable to access loans.”It’s a negative surprise. It is a direct risk to the economy,” said Trinity Securities analyst Nuttachart Mekmasin, outlining key policies including Srettha’s 500 billion baht ($14.3 billion) cash handout plan may be stalled.”Consumer and business confidence will be affected,” he said. “Spending and investment will slow down until the next government is formed.”The government had estimated growth of just 2.7% for 2024, lagging regional peers, while Thailand stock market has been among Asia’s worst performers this year. It slipped 1.29% after the ruling before recovering to close 0.4% down.UNCERTAIN TRUCESrettha expressed disappointment and said it was possible the next government could change his policy agenda.”I am saddened to leave as a prime minister who was found to be unethical,” Srettha told reporters. “I performed my duties with integrity and honesty.”The ruling could rock a fragile truce between political heavyweight Thaksin Shinawatra and his enemies among the conservative elite and military old guard, which enabled the tycoon’s return from 15 years of self-exile in 2023 and ally Srettha to become premier the same day.Srettha’s undoing was his appointment to cabinet of Thaksin’s former lawyer Pichit Chuenban, who was briefly imprisoned for contempt of court in 2008 over an alleged attempt to bribe court staff, which was never proven.The complaint was lodged by 40 former senators who were appointed by the military after a 2014 coup against Pheu Thai’s last government. Srettha’s deputy Phumtham Wechayachai takes over as caretaker premier.The United States said it remained committed to its alliance with Thailand.”The United States looks forward to the selection of a new prime minister as soon as possible, and a smooth transition of power,” a State Department spokesperson said.According to some political experts, it is likely Pheu Thai has the clout to lead the next administration, though it was uncertain who would be in charge.Anutin Charnvirakul, leader of the Bhumjaithai Party, the second-largest partner in the alliance, said the coalition remained tight and Pheu Thai should lead the formation of a new government.”Pheu Thai is still leading the government … We have to listen to Pheu Thai,” said Anutin, who is now caretaker deputy premier.A dealmaker who has long straddled both sides of Thailand’s political divide, Anutin is eligible for the top job as one of several politicians designated prime ministerial candidates by their parties before the last election.Pheu Thai has two candidates it can nominate – former Justice Minister and party stalwart Chaikasem Nitisiri, and the party’s inexperienced leader Paetongtarn Shinawatra, Thaksin’s 37-year-old daughter.Other potential candidates include acting Energy Minister Pirapan Salirathavibhaga and Prawit Wongsuwan, a staunch royalist and former army chief involved in two coups.

[warningsine]

https://www.reuters.com/world/asia-pacific/judgment-day-thai-pm-srettha-court-rules-dismissal-case-2024-08-13/

BANGKOK, Aug 14 (Reuters) - Thailand's Constitutional Court on Wednesday dismissed Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin and ruled he "grossly" violated ethics by appointing a minister who was once jailed, raising the spectre of political upheaval and a shakeup in the governing alliance.

Real estate tycoon Srettha is the fourth premier in 16 years to be removed in verdicts by the same court, underlining the central role Thailand's judiciary has played in its intractable, two-decade political crisis.

Srettha's exit after less than a year in power means parliament must choose a new premier on Friday, with the prospect of more uncertainty in a country dogged by coups and court rulings that have brought down multiple governments and political parties.

His Pheu Thai Party, the biggest in the coalition, moved quickly to try to shore up its alliance and said it would meet early on Thursday to choose its candidate for prime minister ahead of a special session of parliament to vote on a new premier.

Pheu Thai and its predecessors have borne the brunt of Thailand's turmoil, with two governments removed by coups in a long-running grudge match between the party's founders, the billionaire Shinawatra family, and their influential rivals in the conservative establishment and royalist military.

The judges ruled 5-4 in favour of dismissing Srettha, saying he failed to perform his duty with integrity.

"The accused is terminated as prime minister due to his lack of honesty," the judges said, adding his behaviour "grossly breached ethical standards".

The decision was the court's second bombshell in the space of a week following its dissolution of the opposition Move Forward Party - the 2023 election winner - over a campaign to amend a law against insulting the crown, which it said risked undermining the constitutional monarchy.

Move Forward has already regrouped as a new party, promising to further its anti-establishment agenda.

Both rulings came at a tricky time for an economy that Srettha struggled to jumpstart, with weak exports and consumer spending, sky-high household debt and more than a million businesses unable to access loans.

"It's a negative surprise. It is a direct risk to the economy," said Trinity Securities analyst Nuttachart Mekmasin, outlining key policies including Srettha's 500 billion baht ($14.3 billion) cash handout plan may be stalled.

"Consumer and business confidence will be affected," he said. "Spending and investment will slow down until the next government is formed."

The government had estimated growth of just 2.7% for 2024, lagging regional peers, while Thailand stock market has been among Asia's worst performers this year. It slipped 1.29% after the ruling before recovering to close 0.4% down.

UNCERTAIN TRUCE

Srettha, who entered politics just months ahead of last year's election, expressed disappointment and said it was possible the next government could change his policy agenda.

"I am saddened to leave as a prime minister who was found to be unethical," Srettha told reporters. "I performed my duties with integrity and honesty."

The ruling could rock a fragile truce between political heavyweight Thaksin Shinawatra and his enemies among the conservative elite and military old guard, which enabled the tycoon's return from 15 years of self-exile in 2023 and ally Srettha to become premier the same day.

Srettha's undoing was his appointment to cabinet of Thaksin's former lawyer Pichit Chuenban, who was briefly imprisoned for contempt of court in 2008 over an alleged attempt to bribe court staff, which was never proven.

The complaint was lodged by 40 former senators who were appointed by the military after a 2014 coup against Pheu Thai's last government. Srettha's deputy Phumtham Wechayachai takes over as caretaker premier.

According to some political experts, it is likely Pheu Thai has the clout to lead the next administration, though it was uncertain who would be in charge.

Anutin Charnvirakul, leader of the Bhumjaithai Party, the second-largest partner in the alliance, said the coalition remained tight and Pheu Thai should lead the formation of a new government.

"Pheu Thai is still leading the government ... We have to listen to Pheu Thai," said Anutin, who is now caretaker deputy premier.

An astute dealmaker who has long straddled both sides of Thailand's political divide, Anutin is eligible for the top job as one of several politicians designated prime ministerial candidates by their parties before the last election.

Pheu Thai has two candidates it can nominate - former Justice Minister and party stalwart Chaikasem Nitisiri, and the party's inexperienced leader Paetongtarn Shinawatra, Thaksin's 37-year-old daughter.

If successful, she would be Thailand's third Shinawatra premier after Thaksin and her aunt, Yingluck Shinawatra.

Other potential candidates include acting Energy Minister Pirapan Salirathavibhaga and Prawit Wongsuwan, opens new tab, a staunch royalist and former army chief involved in two coups.

[dpr-lahore-division]

With compliments from, The Directorate General Public Relations,

Government of the Punjab, Lahore Ph. 99201390.

No.589/DN/Mujahid

Handout (A)

43 kanal state lands retrieved on the orders of Ombudsman Punjab

LAHORE, March 31:

A total of 43 kanal state lands have been retrieved from illegal occupants in various districts of the province after the intervention of Ombudsman Punjab Maj (r) Azam Suleman Khan.

In a statement issued here on Sunday, the spokesman stated that the cumulative value of the recovered lands is worth more than Rs.43 million. Different people lodged complaints to the ombudsman office regarding illegal farming and encroachments on government lands in their areas and requested that government lands be recovered from the squatters.

In this context, the provincial ombudsman issued orders to the concerned assistant commissioners and chief officers of municipal committees of the relevant districts to recover the state lands and submit their compliance reports to the office.

As a result of this action, the encroached lands have been successfully reclaimed and returned to the relevant departments, the spokesman concluded.

[1000leaps]

#155 | It made a difference to that one

While reading the biography of Florence Nightingale by Catherine Reef this week, one small anecdote struck me. Florence once visited a church in Rome. As the faithful received blessings from the priest, she saw a small girl in the crowd asking for handouts on the streets. Florence returned to her lodging, but the child remained on her mind. In the following days, Florence went around town to find…

[bike42]

Monday September 18, 2023

Nice morning - yoga and breakfast and we were in the library at 8:30am to pick up our lunch boxes, whatever snacks we wanted for the day, and to have our daily briefing.

Jenn described that there are 282 Munro’s (mountains over 3000 feet) in Scotland and it’s sport to “bag” them all! We’ll walk on the foothills of a few of them, but not to the top. Some people vie for bagging them in record time in a self propelled manner - cycling or paddling to reach them!

The leaders decided not to offer the 11 mile hike today due to the rain last night. They’re concerned about slippery conditions. All 17 of us opted for the eight-mile, 1000 ft gain (most of it in the beginning) option. They enlisted the Local Taxi Driver, Donald McDonald (supposedly they’re two of them in town) to help with the shuttle today.

It was a quick 15 minute drive to the trailhead. Keith had said we might meet a Stag named “Collin” at the car park, and he was there to greet us and ask for a handout. I was kind of shocked when Keith fed him a banana. Seems wrong to encourage what should be a wild animal in that manner! Jenn said the locals look after him year around and a vet even comes by to check on him. Still seemed wrong.

We climbed a bit, then as we overlooked and old homestead, Keith gave us a chat on “Highland Clearances.” Ruins like the one we were viewing, are known in Scotland as “scars on the land”. After Industrial Revolution, the land was “cleared” of original landowners - many were offered one-way tickets to US / Australia / Patagonia. If they didn’t leave, the “sheriff” tore off the roof and burned the house. The land was developed into large hunting lodges and sheep grazing. Scotland’s system of land ownership is said to be one of the world’s most inequitable: 83 percent of the land is privately owned, and about half of it is owned by just 500 families - many not from Scotland originally, or living outside of Scotland.

People in this area had a great cultural hub - exported whisky. Many sheep herders from this area did go to Patagonia, and came back. The old traditions are being reestablished, which is refreshing.

Right to Roam - runs deep with Scottish people! Before “The Clearances,” many Scottish families earned their livelihood as “sustenance farmers” on public lands. Now land ownership is concentrated in a few hands, but all are free to enter and landowners must maintain the trails.

Keith grabbed a handful of Spagham Moss. He squeezed it to show us how it retains water. Dried out, it can be used as a wound dressing. Compacted, it becomes a peat bog. Keith’s grandma told him be careful of the Bog man (precursor of the boogie man). Bogs can be used to pickle and preserve things (bog butter).

This area would have had trees in the medieval days - lumber used for building and fires. Landowners now keep it open as a heather meadow for hunting purposes.

Jenn talked a lot, or rather, wondered out loud, about the creation of this landscape - water and glaciers, sedimentary rock and sandstone. It’s clear to see the glacier involvement, but were there also volcanoes and/or earthquakes? Such lovely, yet different rock and scenery. And the power of water - so much water coming out of the mountains and making its way to the sea!

A first for us while hiking, we took a break about an hour into the hike and Keith pulled out a bottle of Whisky and small paper cups. I skipped the cup and had him add a dram to my tea flask - hit the spot. As our break time was ended, it started to rain so I put my rain pants on. Since it had also gotten a little chilly, I added my puffy jacket under my rain jacket thinking I’d take it off in a bit … I didn’t!

The group started splintering, Kelli had a busted boot and Keith tried to tape it up for her, but it slowed them down. We got behind 4 others and the ladies seemed to be having a tough time with the terrain and were taking it slow. We all stepped aside to let some crazy mountain bikers through, and Jeff and I took the opportunity to pass them and work on catching up with the others (the 4 from WI and the 3 ladies). We caught them, but then had a stop in the rain so Jeff and I decided to sit and eat some lunch. Jules was there too, having hiked up from the end.

We continued our hike, odd being all alone now, but we enjoyed the solitude and the trail was obvious so we didn’t have concerns of being lost. The rain came and went, but we were warm inside our rain suits. The river grew larger and the number of waterfalls dumping into it increased in numbers and volume - very spectacular.

We reached the parking lot and found two Backroads vans (a third had driven away just as we reached the end of the trail). John and Rhydian (the newlyweds) were there, along with the coolers full of drinks. I grabbed a Gin and Tonic and climbed in the van as the rain increased and I wanted to finish my lunch! About 15 minutes later, Jules came back and picked up the 4 of us and delivered us back to the hotel.

We went up to our room. Jeff showered, then I took a long, not bath. I could barely stand afterwards - maybe it was too hot. I laid on the bed trying to cool off enough to get dressed with JT napped. We dressed, grabbed some umbrellas and walked to another bar/restaurant on property for a wine tasting session, followed by dinner.

The wine tasting was led by Shane, originally from France. He came to The Torridon six years ago for a six month gig, but fell in love with it here. He said what he likes best is the people are so nice! He added “you know how we are in France!” We tried three difference single malts - I liked all, but preferred the non-peaty varieties. Here are some other facts we learned:

Five Types of Scotch

Single Malt

Blended Malt Scotch Wiskey

Single Grain (corn etc added to Barley)

Blended grain

Blended scotch (Johnny Walker Red)

France is the top consumer of Scotch Whiskys

The Angels Share - check out the movie

We had a nice dinner sitting with John and Rhydian, learning more about them. Afterwards, we headed back to the main building and had a nightcap (Scottish version of Bailey’s on the rocks) and chatted more with Shane.

[drdanojowa]

Ruto is busy pleasing Mt. Kenya with petty handouts, lip service and heavy taxes...this to counter the visible ideological effects of Azimio demonstrations! I hope he will be taking rice and meat to Kabarak State Lodge (North Rift) soon unless Mt. Kenya ndio wajinga siku hizi.

[familydentalcare]

Blue Mango Lodge Bed And Breakfasts For Lease In Kempton Park, Gauteng, South Africa

I would personally like to thank Sabelo Ngubeni for his amazing service throughout my go to to SA. It is suitable for business trips, transportation is convenient, safe and hygienic, and breakfast is nice. "Breakfast was good, no further mattress, appropriate for children, parking obtainable. Public security in South Africa is not good. The lodge is situated in a separate leisure, eating, resort, convention space. The interior dentist sandton is very secure and in good condition." A spokesman for Pistorius has stated that Mortimer “aggressively interrogated him” on matters referring to his homicide trial. Mortimer advised a South African movie star news website that Pistorius had boasted to him of his family’s influence and bad-mouthed his pals while poking him in the chest and pulling at his neck. He said the athlete was drunk and fell over backwards right into a chair when he pushed him away.

Remember too the beneficial impact of phytochemical meals and omega three on joints. Enjoying flippantly filtered raw honey with all the pollen for example, and often having west coast pilchards or freshly ground flax seed are simple methods to improve not solely your joint health but your complete physique. Don't forget the anti inflammatory advantages of olive oil and chilies too. In this handout image offered by Miss Universe L.P., LLLP, Renata Ruiz, Miss Chile Universe 2005; Tricia Homer, Miss US Virgin Islands Universe...

It's a really old occupation, however not the oldest, practised by the ancients. Famous Greek doctors, for example, like Hippocrates and Galen used manipulative methods greater than two millennia in the past. Demonstrate expertise in undergraduate teaching and instructing of other health care professionals. Demonstrate data of those determinants of health that have an result on a patient or a population of sufferers in order to be able to effectively contribute to enhancing individual and societal health. Demonstrate proficiency in growing investigation, treatment and management plans and protocols for patients within the multi-disciplinary setting.

Ricky on reception was pleasant and really useful with our requests for further gadgets Unfortunately the bar closed at 2pm but the workers provided to open it up for us. We didn’t eat on the lodge as we had alternative plans however the restaurant looked good. I would keep at the resort once more for a mini break, if we had been capable of get an excellent deal like we did for this visit. Offering an outside pool and a restaurant, Clico Boutique Hotel is positioned within the leafy suburb of Rosebank.

Enjoy the resort's recreational facilities, together with out of doors pool, backyard, before retiring to your room for a well-deserved rest. Leighwood Lodge is an excellent choice from which to explore Johannesburg or to simply loosen up and rejuvenate. The mix of guests was interesting, from foreign tourists, general visitors and business people, all seemed dentist in sandton entirely at ease and exceptionally well accommodated. The restaurant and adjoining seating areas across the pool and gardens present a perfect area to relax and or dine with guests and workers consideration to element is outstanding. The resort is small and presents perfect entry to O R Tambo International, Sandton City and enterprise districts of Northern Suburbs of Johannesburg.

We provide an entire detox and wellness heart including Ozone Therapy, Colon Hydrotherapy, PEMF Therapy, IV Vitamin/Mineral Therapy and Oncology Care. Serokolo Health Solutions Ltd is geared to expose shoppers to the absolute best quality personal and public healthcare in Africa, with a personalised flair, whilst facilitating treatment by highly certified specialists at reasonably priced and aggressive prices dental braces sandton. You’ll find high-end retailers as well as international staples such as Toys R Us and Virgin Mobile; plus doctors, dentists, a classy nightclub and a film theatre. A speedy rail system, the Gautrain, is scheduled to have a brand new Sandton stop completed before the World Cup begins on June eleven. When completed, the Gautrain will shuttle guests from O.R. Tambo International Airport to Sandton City in about 20 minutes.

[marcushale]

She is a breath taking visage before him, radiant in the moonlight like the pearls that are pried from the mouths of reluctant clams. The ocean crashes around them, sweeping onto the darkened sand. Seaweed brushes ashore, displaced from its home, and a small part of him longs to pick it up, to return it where it belongs.

Allowing himself to look upon her, the words she breathes out much too gentle to be pointed towards him. There is a brief moment in which Marcus considers it, the gentleness that she extends towards him. He wonders if she knows who he is — and then he wonders if he is simply thinking too much about a situation that is no longer within his control.

He thinks that he could return to the sea and it would not matter.

"I drew you..." he echoed, as though he had no words of his own on his tongue. A twisted feeling coiled in his chest, prompting him to place his hand over his chest at the same time that she did. A strange moment in which they had shared the same pose.

Marcus dropped his hand. Her words were strange too, burrowed into his mind like a pick; why would she worry about repaying him? No such thing was needed, he'd hardly wanted to offer her the drawing in the first place due to fear.

Partially because there had been a chance someone would see, that they would latch onto this innocent girl as the one who had caused him to stray. He had not seen her in town at that time, nor had she been there when he had packed his things to head out on the voyage that'd kept him from the shore for a long time.

And the fear had partially come from that too — if he handed this to her, would he see her again? And if he longed to see her again, then that meant the feeling existed there in the first place.

A redundant thought, perhaps, but one that made complete sense to him. The emotion had to be there, the longing, the yearning that he had only ever felt for the crashing waters that wash upon the shore. His fingers twinged, as though he could easily walk over and scoop up handfuls of water.

He had always hated the feeling; the terrible pain within him that exists simply because he could not have what he wanted. A feeling that had followed him throughout his entire life. And now, he could see it happening with this girl too.

Surely someone like her would already have a betrothed.

"You don't — don't —" he tried but his voice died slowly, drowning in the depths of the next wave that washed over the sand. Already, she had made a suggestion and it twinged the coil already in his chest.

An invitation to the Winery & Inn. A local one in town that his grandfather spent most of his nights in if he is able to make it there. He had spent some time there too, most people had. Popular with the travellers through their town as well as the locals, it had been one of the easiest places to blend into the crowd. To hide away within the confines of his mind, his fingers curled around a drink that would not keep him warm for his walk home.

He would like to be warm.

"I know it," he found himself saying before he could stop. Controlled by the coil in his chest, Marcus could only watch from within the chambers of his heart as it won, as it took control. This will allow you to see her again, it promised and he could do nothing but latch onto that hope. A hook lodged into the tender flesh of a fish's mouth. "A lot of people know it..."

A treat but he would not except it as a treat. He would wait until her back was turned, slipping a few coins to another worker in an attempt to keep the promise of a treat from resting on his conscious.

["You never take handouts from anyone, child," his grandfather had remarked often. The fire had crackled and Marcus looked up at the man he had been named after, his eyes wide. "Do you understand me?"

"What are you telling him?" A sharp voice had chided in response. Hands had scooped him up a moment later, his young eyes still latched onto the older gentleman in the chair. "He's three. Why are you teaching that to a three year old, vecchio?"

"You can never be too old when learning about the world," his grandfather replied. He groaned loudly, shaking his head at a gesture that was now all but lost to Marcus. "Must you always return to your roots?"

"They are his roots too," came the reply. "Your daughter had no problem with where I come from."

"Everyone does," Marcus Sr had proclaimed. "We do not like outsiders in this town."]

But the offer was still an offer and he did not want to return home yet. The night was still young, for all intents and purposes, and any sleep he sought out would result in waking up early. It would mean returning to the sea to continue the fishing excursions that would produce nothing of note, yet would disappoint the Byrne family member who would inspect their catch.

"A treat..." he repeated, as though the words were new to him. He nodded before he could stop himself, stepping to the side to allow her room to pass him. "It's not necessary, not really... but I would be happy to accompany you..."

His voice almost became lost in the crash of the ocean but he fought against it. The sand was soft beneath their feet, disguising the movement into nothing. He wondered if it wrong to walk with her like this, where they might be seen, but there's not much that the people of the town could do that they haven't already done.

It was more likely that the drunks of the town will push aside what they had seen between tonight as nothing but wild fantasies conjured up by alcohol. He could only hope that she would not become another voice in the echoes because of what he will do to her.

"Odelia..." he repeated, finding a nice comfort in her name. There was something about her, beyond the innate beauty of a pearl. He searched within the confines of his mind to see if he could grip a memory of her, something that would tie to her to the town they slowly venture into now.

But there was nothing. Only brief flashes of that day he had stood on the rain soaked beach and watched the far off seal disappear into the depths of the waters. A fleeting moment in time.

She must be new, she couldn't have been born here as he would recall her even from the darkest moments in his life. A new face, a new being, something better than what he had been through his entire life.

It was a relief almost and it would be entirely impolite to remark on her lack of origin.

"It's a beautiful name..." he mused, stopped at the rocky path onto the town's streets. He motioned for her to venture up first. "I'm Marcus. Marcus Hale."

The full name might not have been necessary but there was always an importance to it. Names have always been important.

@marcushale

The sea. An endless moving entity, both peaceful and violent. He’s seen her on her most chaotic days but he’s also seen her on her most still. He’s seen her for miles, knows her better than he knows how to rig the sails of his vessel and how to count to ten and ride a bike and he knows her better than who he is. 

Sailor is what they used to address him as. Sailor Hale. That was who he was for years, ever since he turned sixteen and the captain in charge of his first vessel hadn’t cared that his documents were faked — still drying ink had been smeared where he’s said that yes, yes he was definitely eighteen and no he hadn’t just turned sixteen the previous month, no way sir! — and he’d been called that in the years follow.

Year after year, he was Sailor Hale. 

In the letter he received two months ago, while he was stationed in some Italian port and he was on the brink of quitting — and alcoholism because drinking and the sea went hand in hand and being some kid from a tiny coastal town really messes with one’s head when one thinks about it for far too long — they’d addressed him as only Mr Hale. He’d received it when he was listening to his fellow crewman talk about some war — rich families who hated each other’s guts and were always one wrong move, one wrong fight away from imploding that beautiful city they were in — when the mail arrived and the crewman had brought it to him.

The letter was far too nice to be from his grandfather. Marcus Sr. had a habit of sending him yellowed sheets of paper that smelled of tobacco and with handwriting only he was able to read — boychik, the last letter had read, that alta kaka is proclaiming that I have an illness, can you believe that? — but this one, this one had been different. The paper was nice and smooth and it was written in only the finest of inks.

It was a job proposal. Some rich family from his home town needed a sailor, needed a whole crew of them for some top secret job, and he wasn’t allowed to ask questions — odd how that was the first thing they covered — but the pay would be grander than what he gets now — they’d pay him what he earned in a year for a month’s work — and with his grandfather’s lungs getting worse, what choice did he have?

So, he tossed his Italian wine into the sea and told his captain he was done and he got the first vessel home. 

He stepped onto that port and the world changed.

His small coastal home was ravaged with sea storms nearly constantly. He’d spent many summers as a boy walking the beach with his father. He would collect shells and his father used it as an excuse to drink, away from the watchful eye of his grandfather — he’d never liked Marcus’ father but they were forced together after the death of Maria Hale through one little connective tissue: Marcus. 

It was a beautiful little town, perhaps on that would be painted by famous painters and sold for a lot of money. Marcus saw those paintings all the time on shore leave. He would sketch them into his beaten up sketch book then tuck it into his pocket before running back to the ship. It was the kind of place that always had a ship on the coast and many people walking around. A small market place with thatched roofs and a small doctor’s office — the same woman who had diagnosed his grandfather’s lung problems had given him an ointment for the black eye he’d sported for a week after Marianne’s father found out what he’d done.

Marianne. The beautiful girl he had always thought he would come home too. He had been with her as a boy and then a young man and then he’d proposed. And it was nice. It was supposed to be nice. He was supposed to marry her and she had picked out her pretty white dress with lace and he was going to wear the same suit his father had when he’d married his mother but then — then something happened and Marcus doesn’t know what it is but he remembers a seal resting by the rocky outcrop a mile from the shore. It had been a storm and he was soaked and he was crying and he was clutching his heart.

Please, please, he had begged, tell me this is the right thing to do but all the seal had done was leap back into the waves and Marcus knew — he just knew he couldn’t do it. So he broke off the engagement, let her father hit him because he deserved that, and then he’d run off to join the crew for the Italian run.

So, when he gets odd looks when he comes home, he doesn’t necessarily think it’s unearned. He’s the shmendrick who has run out on their lovely Marianne, who had broken her heart crying over him for weeks, but how can he even begin to explain the issue when even he didn’t have the name for it?

He began working for the Byrne family a week after he returned. A week after he began working for them, he realised it was a nearly boring job. He didn’t get to know what they were looking for, just that he and a small group for crewmen spent hours hoisting up clams and coral and huge batches of fish. None were taken back to the town for profit — the Byrne’s were far too rich to make a few measly coins from fishing — but they were allowed to take some fish should they need them. Their captain — a short man with greying hair and a monocle who was definitely not a captain — would inspect the catch, tell them they didn’t get anything, and to take what they wanted before throwing it back.

On his third week of the job, Marcus found a pearl. A tiny one, lodged in a clam shell that he pried loose with his fingers. It was beautiful, shining in the sunlight, and he’d slipped it into his pocket before dumping the clam catch back into the ocean. 

And that was just how it went. Long arduous days a few miles out from the town — he could see why they paid so high now — before he would come back to that little coastal cottage. He’d fry up the fish he took, eat a mostly silent dinner with his grandfather and try to sleep while he listens to the crackles and pops of the old man’s sleeping. He would often refuse medication and Marcus was often too tired to fight the man. He would simply leave the gold coloured liquid out on the table and hope that he would see a change in the volume. He never did.

This day went the same as it always did, except for one thing. 

Tossing and turning in his bed got too tiresome. Marcus can sleep under most difficult situations — choppy waves, storms, the bright sun — but this is different. He can’t explain it and he doesn’t want to. The lamp runs cold by his bed and he can hear his grandfather’s broken breathing; he doesn’t want to be here anymore and he thinks he might just go wad out into the ocean and wait for the seaweed to wind around his legs, pulling him down under until he becomes bubbles and seafoam.

He pulls his thin blanket from over his body and scrubs a hand over his face. Blue eyes stare blankly at the wooden floorboard — he can almost trick himself into thinking he’s back on a ship — and then he’s standing. There’s a deep ache in his shoulder blades. His biceps are tired. He picks up his beaten up, leather sketch book and slots a pencil behind his ear. He picks up his jacket, sliding it on and then takes up the small ring of keys. He walks out of the cottage.

He walks down the hill it rests on, alone and far away from the rest of the town. It’s better this way, he thinks. His grandfather is a popular man in the town. They like him, he’s one of those elderly people most small towns worship, but Marcus?

Marcus is a pariah.

( “Ack, Mark,” one of his grandfather’s friend’s had slurred, the stench of rum on his lips. “Why is the boychik so quiet?”

A hand had slapped on his back. It’d caused Marcus to ruin the nose of the pretty girl he was drawing at the time. Only thirteen, he frowned and reached for the eraser.

“Junior’s just a bit weird,” Marcus Sr — his grandfather — had laughed. “Hasn’t been right in the head since William passed.”)

He walks down the wooden steps, the wind blowing a decently warm breeze through his hair, and he thinks he always prefers the beach at night. The only light comes from a few street lights, the oil burning away, and the stars. The town is quiet and the waves lap peacefully against the white sand. He doesn’t walk on the sand, however, just along the brick wall the stops unruly children and drunkards from coming too close to the ocean.

Marcus doesn’t think it’s so bad. The ocean offers a warm embrace to those who fall into her careful arms. If one learns how to treat her with kindness, the ocean will be just as kind back. She can protect just as fiercely as she can drown.

He walks and walks, not going too far from the little cottage, but still he puts some distance between himself and it. The wind is getting a little colder now but he doesn’t mind. He drops onto the brick wall, legs crossing and he opens his beaten sketchbook on the last page it was used on. He sees drawings of fish, of the clams they caught and didn’t throw back right away. He sees a crumpled sail and —

He sees a person. A girl.

Marcus blinks a few times, trying to convince himself that he’s really seeing her and that his mind hasn’t finally, finally snapped. But no, she’s there. She’s a little bit down the beach from him but he can still see her features perfectly. It’s like the moon shines on her and only her, like they’ve struck up some kind of deal. His blue eyes linger on her, tongue running against his lips, and he drinks her in.

Her jaw is angular, his hair a wavy brown, and her nose has a nice slope to it. She looks small from here and she might be. There’s something wrapped around her shoulders. A jacket, perhaps.

And Marcus — all he can do is slide his pencil out from behind his ear and start. He steals glances at her, taking those features in, and the translating them onto the page. His lines start unsure and hesitant then becomes more confident, more urgent. He worries she might dissipate into the waves before he’s finished.

But she doesn’t. She remains where she is, ethereal and ghostly in nature, and he wonders if maybe he’s seeing those sea ghosts one particularly superstitious captain had told him about. But she doesn’t look willowy or translucent like a ghost might, so yeah, she’s really there.

And when he’s done, when he’s staring down at the face that’s only just a few feet from him, he tears the page from the book. He closes it softly, the drawing held between three fingers as he winds the leather cord around the book and tucks it into his pocket.

He gets up from the brick wall. He doesn’t know what compels him to do it but he moves. He carries himself over the beach, moving with all of the grace of a baby sea turtle trying not to die. He approaches her and oddly — very oddly, as in this has never happened before and he wonders if maybe she is a ghost after all — his heart starts to thump.

His hand slides up over his chest, feeling the slow beats against his sternum, and then his eyes are on that outcrop of rocks a mile from the beach. There’s no seal this time. He’s on his own.

“Excuse me, miss?” His voice is raw, unused. There’s a rasp to it that’s hard to clear with even the freshest of water. Quiet. Weird. “For you.”

He doesn’t look her in the eyes as he holds out the drawing for her take. He simply hopes she won’t find him odd or strange — or she won’t spit in the face of a pariah for daring to come near him — and he doesn’t mind if she doesn’t want the drawing, she can crumple it up at home or use it in a fire so long as she takes it from his hands.

So long as she takes it.

The sea is my only friend, she thinks, compared to the many people around her. It was the only one who didn't ask her questions she had no answers to (where are you from?, who are your parents?, when did you get here?, who are you?)

Who are you…

Truth be told,  that was the question she secretly despised the most – the one that seemed to follow her wherever she went; the quiet whispers, the prying eyes, the friendly handshakes. It was a silent query disguised as an action or greeting whenever someone encountered her. Be it for the first or the umpteenth time.

She could always see it in their eyes, afterall - the curiosity of wanting to know more about her but the hesitancy that, if they were to ask, they would be stepping over a boundary they had no right crossing. 

[“Who are you?” The plump woman had asked, examining her from head to toe. She’d been the only one who dared approach Odelia that silent night and, truthfully, she didn't blame them for being afraid of her. Her hair and camisole dress was soaked with seawater, her feet without any shoes or sandals on. It wouldn't be far-fetched if they'd assumed she was a ghost or sea monster. 

“I don’t know...” Odelia responded meekly. 

The older lady now seemingly more perplexed, scratched her head in confusion. “Okay… Then do you, at the very least, know why you were… Wandering in the waters this late?” 

“I… Don’t know.” She’d quietly repeated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. The only recollection she had was that she’d wandered from the beach, her head throbbing painfully and mind foggy. 

The few that were still awake that night pulled the older lady aside after hearing Odelia's response, their eyes wary and afraid. As if they’d seen something they couldn’t quite fathom. And though most would have gotten offended, she was anything but. For she too couldn’t quite comprehend who or what she was (How could she? When she was merely like an empty shell on the shorelines. Devoid of any history or background as to where she came from).

"It's fine, it's fine. Let me go." The lady said, brushing the others off.

Despite the uncertainty, the lady was ultimately kind enough to give her a chance, as she pulled away from the others and approached Odelia closer. 

“... My name is Mary. Come, child.” ]

Thanks to Mary's willingness, Odelia found herself a place to stay that night, and then eventually a job at Mary's inn. Initially the town's folks were painfully against it but as time went by, it gradually dissipated, the outward wariness and fear shown by the residents. They’d grown more and more accustomed to having her around, especially after a few round of drinks and slow conversations.

What were once cold stares became friendlier looks, and rough one-liners gradually turned into full conversations. Things had finally begun to settle down and what was once an unfamiliar place started to feel like home...

But…

Somehow, just like a seashell clumsily placed in-between fine chinas and porcelain vases, something was still not quite right. Almost as if she didn’t belong here. Almost as if she was still out of place (alone). 

Odelia watched as the sea ebbed and rippled, a strange sense of longing filling her heart. As if there was something out there in the deep that could fill her in ways being here couldn’t. But what? She pondered deeply, feelings of frustration rising whenever she tried to remember something, anything, that could give her clues as to where she came from. For the only dim memories she had were the ones that would come up in her dreams at night – the sea, a dimly lit place, and a blurry face of a man peering down at her wickedly before things faded to black.

“This is no use… No matter how hard I try…” I don’t remember who I am. It was a heart-wrenching confession every single time, and an even harder realization that there’s a chance she never would. That the dreaded question that seemed to find her wherever she went would continue to hound her until her time was up. 

Finally deciding to retire for the night, Odelia turned around, only to be greeted by a quiet…

“Excuse me, miss?”

The stranger said, his words quiet enough that she almost had to strain to hear him. But as she looked at him, something in her heart leaped.

A boy. Eyes as blue as the sea, voice rasped but quiet, unlike the many she'd spoken to (loud, harsh, boisterous).

He was unlike most she’d met, foreign almost, and yet… A memory. Or rather, a fragment of it.  A rock, crashing waves, tears. The sight of a person crying from ways off, the heart-wrenching pain she felt witnessing that.

What was that? (Who was that?) How did the eyes of a stranger coaxed such memories out of her? Ones she couldn't even reach herself no matter how hard she tried?

Initially caution rose within her, a defense machinism she grew to adopt, but as he extended his hand, Odelia’s eyes widened in surprise. “You…. Drew me?” She gasped, slowly taking the drawing from him.

Instinctively, she looked at him again, this time curiosity and a sense of gratefulness overtaking her wariness. There was something about him that called out to her (like the sea she so dearly loved), something about his presence that spoke of a comfort and familiarity she hadn't been able to find thus far.

It's as if, in that moment, every guard and defense she'd built up while navigating this foreign town broke. As if, for the first time in a long while, she could finally breathe.

"Thank you..." She whispered, gazing at it fondly before holding it against her chest. "I don't really know how to repay you for this." And it was true. What could a girl like her offer to someone like him? Someone who possibly had everything she didn't?

"I don't have much but, uhm, I work at Mary's Winery & Inn. Do you know where that is? If you do, I can treat you to something you like."

"My name is Odelia, by the way." Do you know it? Do you know me? She'd wanted to add, but ultimately held her tongue.

[didanawisgi]

Image: Rebis from Theoria Philosophiae Hermeticae (1617) by Heinrich Nollius

“The Rebis (from the Latin res bina, meaning dual or double matter) is the end product of the alchemical magnum opus or great work. After one has gone through the stages of putrefaction and purification, separating opposing qualities, those qualities are united once more in what is sometimes described as the divine hermaphrodite, a reconciliation of spirit and matter, a being of both male and female qualities as indicated by the male and female head within a single body. The sun and moon correspond to the male and female halves, just as the Red King and White Queen are similarly associated. The Rebis image appeared in the work Azoth of the Philosophers by Basil Valentine in 1613.” - Wiki The origin of the word Rebis actually comes from the Sanskrit word “Ribhus”. “The Ribhus were the mystical beings credited as being the first to fashion the sacred vessel by which the King of the Gods - Indra, drank the mystical elixir called amrita or “soma,” which provided enlightenment and health. Soma is referred to in the Rig Veda, which states that it is the food of the gods.” - Timothy Hogan, Entering the Chain of Union The Ribhus/Rebis then, are the mystical workers who fashioned the Holy Grail. Word-of-mouth tradition over time morphed Ribhus into Rebis. Something similar happened to the magical word “abracadabra,” coming from two Sanskrit words, “Abhraka” meaning “stone,” and “Dabhra” meaning “a small amount” (where we get the english word “dab” from). Thus, “Abhraka Dabhra” literally means “a small amount of the stone,” alluding to the alchemical philosopher’s stone. - REGIII32

[hellodenisestuff]

The last week. Oct 23-30,2022

It has been a marvelous 6 weeks.  So many wondeerful animal sightings and congenial volunteers, wonderful staff and guides.

This last 2 weeks we have had 8 of us from around the world, diferent races and cultures ages and one guy. How wonderful to learn of others’ lives and experiences. 

This week the group went back to the school where the trees were planted.  the children had made fences around. the trees to protect them and used plastic bottles inbedded in the ground for watering.  Every drop is precious.  We have had no rain for oveer 2 weeks and the earth is parched the water holes drying up although still enough for the animals willing to travel long distances.  We watched a herd of elephants hurring to a water hole for them to find it only a mud hole. A new search was necessary.

We otice more baboon activity around camp as they are hoping for handouts where there is no nice green grass to feast on. 

We hear the hippos and gazellles around our tents at night trying to find some edible grass. I love to lie there listening to the hyenas, lions, jackals etc as I gaze at the stars.  Some-nights too tired to hear much except last night a big kefluffle of hoof beats indicating something scared the zebra. Probably the near bye lion.

I head to the cost Tues.  Tomorrow 6 of us and 3 staff leave and 3 more will arrive.  I will stay one night at Spurwing Lodge and then fly to Mombasa I will stay at a beach chalet for 5 nights.  will send some photos of that next week.  For now, wonderful photos of the animals and vidos for you.

[shadowsandstarlight]

From a former Girl Guide: Support your local Girl Guides/Girl Scouts. If you are able to buy their cookies, do it. They provide really great opportunities for young people, they do a lot of good for communities in a variety of ways. From community upkeep like cleanups and helping community leagues with flyer handouts and events to food drives and other support to food banks to educating, empowering, and giving special opportunities to girls (and others! I was out as nb before I left, so was my sibling, and neither of us ever got anything but support), they do a whole lot. All of it is volunteer run, and funded by things like cookie sales. WAGGGS (the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts) does a bunch for people worldwide, and there are things called World Centres that members can travel to and visit to get some really neat cultural experiences (in England there’s Pax Lodge, Switzerland has Our Chalet, India has Sangam, Mexico has Our Cabaña, and there’s one that travels between countries in Africa called Kusafiri). From the smallest level of little groups of individual people all the way to a global scale the Girl Guides and Girl Scouts are a really great organization, so buy a box of cookies, contribute some empties to a bottle drive, or swing by one of their fundraising events sometime!