#maybe if ii get back into knitting or crocheting

[knot-doing-it]

This is so awesome :)

“2018 was yet another fabulous year for WRN and its crew of amazingly dedicated volunteers. To date we have added 458 wildlife rehabilitators to our mailing list, with approximately 360 actively requesting nests. February 2019 marks our sixth anniversary of providing cozy and safe nests to wildlife rehabilitators around the world! The WRN project began in 2013, but in 2015 we introduced our Nest registration form which allowed us to record the nests our volunteers were sending out to the wildlife rehabilitators on our mailing list. We are extremely proud to announce that since the introduction of the form our incredible volunteers have distributed over 25,000 nests to wildlife rehabilitators in 14 countries!

If you would like to join us in our efforts in helping to provide nests to wildlife rehabilitators please visit our website for more details.

If you a wildlife rehabilitator and would like to receive nests from our network of volunteers, please email us at: wildliferescuenests@gmail.com “

Via Wildlife Rescue Nests

[bubacorn]

Hey Bubs,

i think you wrote about II knitting. Even using multiple yarn balls in different colours. So II would probably knit the beautiful centipede you just reblogged. I believe he would use different blues, because of course, they all love the ocean and water and they have the most amazing blue eyes. He would knit it so long that Vess is able to put the head on his right shoulder, then behind his head, over the left shoulder, down to his tummy. Around the middle and between is legs. It’s like someone hugging him very very firm. Since the centipede is so long and very soft (II just used the softest yarn and filled it with a lot of soft stuffing) he loves to cuddle with it. He even carries it around the house. It ends around the height of his ankles, so he still can do the cricket feet🤫 II measured it exactly.

Just some soft cuddly thoughts for you.

oh, he certainly would! (here it is, for anyone interested) maybe he would make it a surprise. although it would be a bit hard to hide. like, 'II, why are all your clothes strewn around your room?', while II tries to hold his closet door closed inconspicuously so the huge half-done crochet centipede doesn't come bursting out and ruin his surprise for Vessel. II pouts a little when IV lifts the finished centipede and compares its length to II's height (it's not like it wasn't II who measured it but still)

Vessel hugs it during movie night and the rest of it is lying across the laps of the others sitting beside him. but also, i'm thinking of III turning around in bed in the morning to say good morning to Vessel and finding himself face to face with the centipede's lower half, cause Vessel has his back to III and is hugging the upper half to his chest, while the rest goes over his torso and lies behind his back, beside III. III just huffs, and arranges the creature out of the way to get to his creature of a partner. also, Vessel sometimes lies back on the couch and asks II to lay the centipede over him. or he has one arm around II, and the other around the plush, he has two arms after all (III and IV are pouting in the background and waiting for their turn)

thank you for the cuddly thoughts, i hope you have a lovely day! 💜

[studyyblrring]

Introduction post

Langblr Reactivation Challenge

Week 1 - Day 1 (challenge)

Hi everyone! I'm really hoping to really get back into language learning this year and consequently become more active on here by sharing my progress/resources/just making friends :)

My name is Vanessa and I'm 24.

My TLs this year are: Japanese and Dutch. (in this order)

If things go well, or if I need a break from either, I'll probably either jump back into studying Korean for a bit or properly start with Thai, but I want to focus as much as I can on my TLs.

My mother tongue is Romanian, but I am fluent in English (C1 according to the IELTS test i took almost 4 years ago lmao)

I've dabbled in many languages over the years, but probably the only other one worth mentioning besides the ones I already have is German!

I have a lot of hobbies that i get hyperfixated on alternatively for weeks at a time, including but not limited to: knitting, crocheting, experimenting with digital design (i really wanna learn blender this year), coding, cooking, reading, listening to a lot of music!

I've been a K-pop fan for 8 years :")

Why I'm studying Japanese/Goals:

I've been studying Japanese on/off for 8 (!!!!!) years this April, but I've never been able to get my language level past somewhere in between N5 and N4 on a good day

I'm hoping to reach an intermediate-ish by the of the year, so around N3 (textbook-wise ideally want to be done with the Quartet series and move on to Tobira before 2024, but reaching Quartet II by the end of the year would still be amazing!)

My current goal in terms of JLPT is passing N4 this year! (probably in December, though if things are going well I might try for July as well). maybe even N3 in December but im trying to keep things as realistic and manageable as possible

Now onto why I'm studying, I started learning Japanese when I was in high school because I found out about the MEXT undergraduate scholarships and I was hoping to increase my chances of getting selected, by knowing as much Japanese as possible, but by the time I finished high school I had changed my plans and didn't apply

But through that, I fell in love with both the language and the culture and I got into anime (it was backwards for me lmao), and I kept studying whenever I could and I really miss it, since it's always been a lot of fun for me

I'm also maybe sorta kinda considering applying for the mext graduate scholarship this year or next year but don't hold me to it, I'm not 100% on it yet, but it is another big motivator for me

Why I'm studying Dutch/Goals

this will be a lot shorter as I don't have that many feelings in regard to the dutch language

My reason for studying Dutch is mostly functional, as I'm enrolled in a Dutch university and I live there for most of the year (I'm also starting an internship at a Dutch company this year, and though the staff is international, knowing Dutch would still be helpful) and knowing Dutch at a higher level will simply make my day-to-day life a lot easier and I would have less awkward interactions that start with "Sorry, do you speak English?" 🙃

My goal is to get around B2? maybe B1 would be more realistic? I'm honestly not sure, I haven't decided yet exactly what my textbooks/resources are going to be, as my studying has been kinda sporadic, but I have been keeping a 63-day Duolingo Dutch streak! I also have a Dutch conversation partner with whom I have ~1h Dutch conversation calls twice a month, and those have been quite helpful as well

and i guess my ultimate goal is to simply be able to get around with using mostly (if not only) speaking Dutch when I'm out and about

see you tomorrow :)

[peonymoss]

I posted 516 times in 2021

35 posts created (7%)

481 posts reblogged (93%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 13.7 posts.

I added 460 tags in 2021

#agent carter - 102 posts

#daniel sousa - 55 posts

#black and white world - 46 posts

#quo vadis meta - 44 posts

#1940s - 40 posts

#peggy carter - 39 posts

#agent carter fic - 37 posts

#peggysous - 35 posts

#world war ii - 31 posts

#knitting - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#wentworth: no i'm not looking i'm not and i'm not still attuned to her unspoken thoughts and thnking about her comfort i'm not i'm not

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Fic Update: “Quo Vadis”, Chapter 62

An “Agent Carter” * prequel: How Daniel Sousa got that lead, and his long journey through recovery to the SSR.

This chapter: "Dead Ends and Doubling Back” 

24 notes • Posted 2021-02-21 15:01:19 GMT

#4

FIC UPDATE: "Quo Vadis," Chapter 64

An “Agent Carter” * prequel: How Daniel Sousa got that lead, and his long journey through recovery to the SSR.

This chapter: The Next Chapter

25 notes • Posted 2021-10-23 16:05:38 GMT

#3

Fic Update: “Quo Vadis”, Chapter 63

An “Agent Carter” * prequel: How Daniel Sousa got that lead, and his long journey through recovery to the SSR.

This chapter: “Pied-à-terre ”

28 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 16:26:55 GMT

#2

33 notes • Posted 2021-10-21 13:31:10 GMT

#1

Wonder what he’s making? A sweater, maybe?

His knitting and crochet Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/madewithlovebytomdaley/

115 notes • Posted 2021-08-01 13:53:58 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[bertytravelsfar]

Ten Years - Ten Fics

Ten years of Sherlock deserves marking, and for me, the best bit about Sherlock is the fans. What a talented bunch of buggers you are! You embroider, knit, rhyme, sing, paint, draw, crochet, role-play, photograph and manip, quilt, bake, cosplay, discuss, meet up and write some of the best fanfiction there is. This is my tiny contribution to today’s proceedings - my (current) favourite ten fics and why  -hey, maybe you have missed one of these. Who knows?

I watched from the first episode and I read from about 2015 but didn’t pick up a pen until 2017 when life gave me a little hiatus of my own. I thought I’d written my last story and that I was a very lucky reader to be in such an active, skilled fandom, but the lure of  Sherlock and John pulled me back into writing and I’m thrilled that they did. I’ve read a lot of stories and have been amused, entertained, devastated, enthralled and delighted by the range of work out there. So here are my current top ten (which was as hard as hell to pick!). Ask me next month and it will different again, but on this anniversary day, these are the stories that fill me with Sherlock-y love and appreciation for this incredible fandom.Read the tags before you partake in the feast - my cup of tea might not be yours!  In no particular order —

The Ice Skating AU - Working on the Edges by earlgreytea68. 

What can I say about this one that hasn’t already been said? This is a recognisable John and Sherlock but in a totally AU field. Sherlock is a figure skater, John is a hockey player and it’s the Winter Olympics. The supporting cast are all there and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time as I read it. The dialogue is spot on, the excitement is hold your breath-worthy. One of the first things I read in Sherlock fandom and has never been out of my top ten since.

The Mountain Rescue AU - Whiteout by sincewhendoyoucalme_John.

Based on The Horn, this is a story about AirZermatt - the mountain rescue helicopter crew. Their rescue expert is Sherlock Holmes and their paramedic is John Watson. Again the rest of the cast are in there somewhere, cleverly placed. This story is a punch in the heart and saves the biggest one until the end, when you see the story behind it. Written like an episode, it follows the action as a camera crew filming a documentary, which gives it an extra twist as John and Sherlock try to avoid the cameras. It’s top ten because of the tension, the evasion and the epilogue. 

The Friends to Lovers Fic - What Friends Do by agirlsname.

This story took my breath away. Stunning voices and flawless writing in a story about Sherlock’s naivety when John moves in with him. He has no reference point, never before having had a friendship like the one he has with John. And John, although nominally in the wrong here, is just as adrift as Sherlock is, in his way. A gorgeous, delicate dance of falling in love and feeling betrayed. Also, because I fangirl-ed the author SO hard on this one, she became a friend instead of telling me to stop being weird, as she should have done! 

The Dark Materials Crossover - The Republic of Heaven by Blind_Author.

Even if you haven’t read Philip Pullman’s classic series, this story is a treasure. In a world where everyone has a daemon, John and Sherlock and their friends are misfits, thrown together by chance. Moriarty is the new whisper on the underground and as the boys and their daemons become embroiled in this new danger, it’s their differences that will be the deciding factor. I’m a sucker for soul-mates like the daemons in this story, and even when the boys are being slow about it, their interactions are gorgeous. 

The Classic - The Quiet Man by ivyblossom

All in John’s POV, this story has a place in the all time Sherlock Hall of Fame. After the Fall, John is not doing very well, and even when his friend is returned to him, John still struggles to keep reality and dreams apart. It is heartbreakingly immersive as we watch Dr Watson struggle, written as this is, in the style of an inner monologue. Fascinating, affecting and stylish.

The Hot One - The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst. 

This list wouldn’t be complete without the story that has made a lot of Johnlockers VERY happy. This story is one that takes you by surprise, expecting x-rated shenanigans (which you get, oh yes!) but with a side order of brilliant character work. Oooooh! at the good times, Awwwwww! at the sweetness and sigh with happiness at the ending. And a good time was had by all. 

The Folk Tale Story - The Curse of the Cool Coat by IncognitoBae

From my incoherent notes, I believe I enjoyed this one quite a lot! It’s a retelling of the Selkie myth with Sherlock as the Selkie and John as the man who falls in love with him. It’s beautiful and wistful and clever, with great voices. With an unusual style and at just under 5K words, it’s not long, but every word has impact. A beautiful story, well told. 

The Classic II - Points by Lifeonmars

In my notes on this story I have written, ‘If John had to have a Mary, this is the Mary he deserved.’ A fix-it, it is a long, sweet, slow build towards what we always already knew and they did too, ultimately - that Sherlock and John were made for each other. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

 The WIP - Noctiluca Scintillans by Alexaprilgarden

I don’t normally read WIPs. I have read too many that have left me high and dry. This one is one I have made an exception for. And AU, teenlock story it begins with two boys on holiday without their parents for the first time. Meeting on a campsite in France, the writing in this story is so visceral that you cannot help but be drawn in by their emerging love affair. Sunshine, sand, sea and angst - the boys are just how I imagined teenaged John and Sherlock would be. It has two more chapters to come, but with so much to savour I can wait. 

The Go-to Happiness Fic - Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb

This story has saved many a day for me. Feeling low, feeling worn down, feeling anxious - whatever it is, this story brings a grin to my face and a lightness to my heart. It’s hilariously written but with a sweet message and I want to leave more kudos than I’m allowed to avoid scaring the author! John has had it with Sherlock’s ways and writes him a list of grievances. Laugh out loud funny and wipe a tear from your eye happy! 

The truth is I could go on and on - there are SO DAMN MANY PERFECT STORIES in this fandom and a hundred other authors whose work I want to highlight here, more 10/10 fics than I can pick from. Writers who are still here, others who have moved on, some who turn out brilliant work over and over, and others who write one perfect story and call it quits. 

Again, if you want to read any of these, then read the tags! Most are M or E, and some of the have trigger topics in them.I’d love to read anyone else’s top ten, if they can narrow it down and I look forward to writing my next top ten - maybe for my birthday later this year. 

So thank you, Sherlock Fandom. Congratulations on being Ten Years Old!

Remember - Read Safely - Watch the Tags - Feed the Authors with kudos!

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Luck

The first time this colorful group entered the town’s local bingo hall, it hadn’t been the best of days.

The host had difficulties overcoming Todd the Demon’s hulking presence and couldn’t call out numbers without shaking and stuttering, and eventually just ran from the building altogether mid-game with a gaggle of players right behind him, and there’s no playing bingo when there’s no one else around.

There still aren’t any other players around when the group decides to drop by today.

But the new host is blind as a bat save for whatever is a foot directly in front of him and he drones on without a care, calling out numbers without lifting his eyes from the computer screen that lotteries out the next. And the next. And the next.

Now, it’s the final round of the day.

Todd, sitting at the small round table that seats four (and only four, in the center of the large room with a dozen other abandoned tables around it), holds the tiny card marker in his large claws, stamping down a neon green dot on B-5—the only successful spot on his card, so far, in any round.

Granny Ethel, though, is on fire. Only two diagonal squares away from her third solid BINGO and focusing intently, awaiting the host to call out O-8 and I-23 so she can claim that nice floral area rug sitting pretty on the grand prize table.

Sam and Todd have already agreed between themselves to help Granny Ethel get whichever prizes she wants if they happen to get a BINGO first.

Her only obstacle in this is Theodore—who only needs one more space to land his second BINGO for the day. Unlike Granny Ethel, his eyes are set on a shiny new tablet and he’s intent on claiming it.

Of course it’s all randomized and comes down to luck, but he could do a little better to be a team player. Especially after the lawnmower incident.

Todd could be mistaken, but he doesn’t think he is—Theodore has yet to earnestly apologize to Granny Ethel, and almost an entire month has gone by since then. Honestly. It’s as if he thinks everyone will forget if he just never brings it up again and it will all go away. Well—the salvaged lantana cuttings are sprouting speckled orange and yellow, at least, but it will take a while before they can be transplanted and grow back to their full glory again.

Maybe Todd will be lenient, and give Theodore until then to deliver said apology.

Maybe not.

Granny Ethel gives a little cheer as the next number called lands her another spot on her diagonal almost-BINGO. One more to go!

The same number is on Sam’s card, too, but he’s dozing off and already dropped the card marker back onto the table. Todd nudges aside one of his brown arms and puts a green dot on the center top row for him. He’s closer to a BINGO than Todd is.

The caller clears his throat, taking a moment to cough hoarsely into a polka-dotted handkerchief—then cough again, and once more, before squinting down at the computer screen and doling out the next number.

“Oh! Bingo! Bingo!” Granny Ethel yells, shooting up from her seat and waving her card in the air, moving faster than Todd has ever seen her move (she does, really and truly, get absorbed in the competition).  

Her shout rouses Sam from his nap and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “Nice job, Granny. That flower carpet is totally yours. Hope it fits in the car, though… Well, if it doesn’t, we can just walk and carry it home for you.”

A big, happy smile spreads across her face as she shimmies around the table and darts forward to the host with card in hand, moving so fast she’s a blue blur in her loose, long-skirted lilac-print dress.

Theodore crosses his arms and pouts, huffing an extremely audible sigh. Always a sore loser, that one.

But, well, it’s their final game of the week, and it’s only fitting that Granny Ethel’s win ends it. The host approves her BINGO and waves her along to the prize table, where she collects her new floral rug in her arms with an elated, toothy smile. It’s a bit much for her to carry, taller even than the white poofs of hair on her head, so Todd holds out his hands and she passes the bundle over to him with thanks.

“Oh, this will look just lovely in my bedroom!” she says brightly, hands clasped together as she shuffles along beside him. “Sam, dear, do you think we have time to redecorate before you give us all a macramé lesson?”

“Definitely! There’s always time to help you out, Granny.” Sam nods pleasantly as they approach his car, which beeps as he unlocks it with his key fob. “I don’t think I’ve seen your room before. It’s the one at the back of the house, right?” He pops the trunk and looks over his shoulder at the carpet in Todd’s hands, and nods again. “Yep; it’ll fit.”

“That’s right. I’m afraid it’s become a bit cluttered—I don’t even let Todd clean it on chore days.”

“No way—Granny, are you a hoarder?”

“Haven’t you seen her house?” Theodore grunts as Todd’s sharp elbow bumps into him, but all he does is roll his eyes in response and skulk to his usual place in the back seat of Sam’s old, half-painted, half-sanded sedan from a year Todd isn’t even sure he remembers. Not bothering to help.

Well, that’s typical Theodore.

Todd finagles the rolled-up carpet into the trunk space, making sure not to crumple or cram it, careful not to upset Sam’s menagerie of old sneakers, a lumpy gym bag, and pile of wadded-up shirts, and closes the trunk securely over it all, satisfied. Then he escorts Granny Ethel to the other side of the car and helps her climb into the back seat opposite her grandson.

He’d let her take shotgun, but there are only a few places he can rightly fit in the small car, and that just so happens to be the front passenger seat. It’s low enough that he only has to hunker down and bow his head and horns just so that they don’t scrape the top and not uncomfortably fold himself up like he would in the back.

Ah, if only Sam had a convertible.

Thankfully, the bingo hall isn’t too far from Granny Ethel’s house—nothing is, really, in this small town, where the edge is only a ten minute car ride in any direction, but when they travel in such a large group, and when Sam offers, some days it’s just easier to drive. Especially when the grey clouds hanging overhead droop and sag, heavy with rain ready to fall at any moment.

(Sometimes Granny Ethel’s bones ache on days like this, too—she never says it, but they all know.)

They hurry into the house, with bingo prize in hand, and Granny Ethel’s first stop is the kitchen, because everyone is parched and in need of a celebratory midday snack. She and Todd had mixed up a nice pitcher of peach tea the day before, and it’s just wonderful on ice, garnished even with tiny lemon slices on the glass rims. That morning, Sam brought iced donuts along, and half of the box still remains for snack time.  

Todd tucks the rolled-up rug safely into a corner and sits down to enjoy a chocolate-iced donut while Granny Ethel chatters on about which TV programs they’re set to watch today, and about how she’s always considered trying macramé but just never had the chance. Sam, though, is a pro, and has been practicing it since his mom taught him when he was young. Apparently he is a master at weaving hanging basket cradles for plants.

Theodore, sitting crammed between Todd and Sam’s broad shoulders (though one set broader than the other) broods in silence, barely touching even a single rainbow sprinkle on his pink-frosted donut. Barely touching his peach iced tea.

The small, round kitchen table has become quite cramped with their new population.

Moving through the halls is just as cramped, now, with two fully-grown men and a hulking demon trying to make their way through. It doesn’t help that the hallways are narrow, but at least the bedrooms are bigger and easier to navigate.

Granny Ethel’s room is the largest in the house. Quaint and cozy, with a full-sized bed set against the center of the far wall, between two curtained, arched windows.

And hanging above said bed, on said wall, is a sight Todd thought he’d seen the last of: the old, rusted scythe from the back yard.

Hung up like a trophy, or a prized possession even—only, it’s no longer rusted. It’s clean and polished, with its metal blade shining under the ceiling light, sharp and dangerous as a new cutlery knife. Totally out of place among the knitted and crocheted throw blankets and covered pillows and tapestries and embroideries dotted around the room. Completely out of place among the precious miniature porcelain trinkets crammed along the tops of dressers and shelves, and the decorative plates lining the highest shelves up near the ceiling.

It draws all of their attention except Granny Ethel’s, who doesn’t seem to mind, who overlooks it as another decoration among many.

“I think that rug will look just wonderful in the center of the room, don’t you think, dears?” She perches daintily on the edge of her bed, one hand on her lower back, and smiles at the space of carpet in front of her slippered feet. “The florals match the wallpaper!”

Todd meets Sam’s eyes for a moment, and the message passes through despite the communication barrier, though at times Todd thinks Sam has telepathy for how in-tune he is to most of his thoughts.

But now, the thought is plain as day. Theodore’s eyes, gleaming with that strange little light that mean he’s plotting, always plotting, linger on that scythe for an uncomfortable stretch of time, and though they’d both agreed to keep a close eye on the man, they decide to keep an even closer watch on him while in this room.

“They do match, Granny,” Sam agrees with a little smile, taking one end of the rolled-up rug to help Todd set it down on the floor. “That’s some theme you’ve got going on in here.”

“Charles picked out the florals. I wasn’t always so fond of them, you know. He brought so much color and beauty into my life, and now I can’t bear to get rid of it…” She toys with the fine, silver band around her left ring finger, eyes looking far, far away, seeing something other than the two men and one demon through her thick lenses.

It isn’t often she speaks of Charles, and they all, every one of them, know better than to bring up the subject. It’s an unspoken rule that only Granny Ethel is allowed to speak of him.

The little floral area rug fits perfectly on the floor, not covering too much, not covering too little. None of the edges hit the bed or the dresser, but they do curl up from being rolled for so long. Todd stamps his hooves on the ends to flatten them down—and it works better than steam roller.

Sam brushes his hands clean of imaginary dust, job well done, and claps. “Alright! How’s that look, Granny?”

“Oh, it’s perfect! Thank you so much for helping, dears. It’s such a lovely design I might just have to find a matching one for the sitting room. The one we have there now is looking a bit threadbare these days. But I digress. Today is a macramé day! Oh, I’ve never done that kind of craft before. What are we making?”

“I was thinking we could make hanging baskets for the lantanas. Y’know, before we transplant them back into the garden. I brought rope and beads and all kinds of stuff to make some cool hangers! Plenty of black for you, too, Todd.”

And so, they continue their day by learning macramé, courtesy of Sam and his unexpected talents.

It’s when night falls, when all are safely tucked away in bed (Sam included, because it’s the weekend, and weekends allow for sleepovers Granny Ethel is more than enthusiastic to host, because she’d missed having a full house), that Todd realizes Theodore had snuck away at some point during their weaving lessons—even just for a bathroom break, letting him out of their sight was a mistake.

Now, certainly, he’s snoozing away at the top of the bunk bed they share, and Sam is tucked away in the far corner of the room with a plushy sleeping bag, but all jolt awake when a thump and a startled cry ring out through the house.

Todd is the first to reach her room. He hesitates at the closed door, just for a split-second, if only to steel himself for what he might see (because that scythe did look stable, where it hung, but what if—what if someone did something to it and—?) before barreling through it with every ounce of bravery he possesses.

The scythe had fallen.

Its sharp tip lay embedded in the soft pillows where Granny Ethel’s head most certainly might have rested, once. Cut right through, as easy as a hot knife sinks through butter.

“Granny—!” Sam gasps out.

But Granny Ethel’s head is not there—and neither is her body. In fact, she’s standing safe and sound, with both hands pressed against her mouth, just beside the bed. Fully intact. Safe.

Safe.

“Oh,” she pauses, hands falling away from her face, but hovering in front of it, still, before falling to her heart. “I was certain I’d placed it up on that wall securely.” She blinks, eyes moving from the fallen scythe to the brackets on the wall—one of which had snapped off and lay useless on top of the soft and numerous blankets covering her bed—then to the three gathered at the door, two mostly concealed behind Todd’s large body.

Todd doesn’t waste a moment. His hand finds the back of Theodore’s neck, grips his shirt collar, and he propels him forward, into the room like a badly behaved animal made to stand before its mistake.

“I didn’t—” he starts to say, squirming like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck, feet barely touching the ground, but Todd won’t hear it. He drops him heavy to the floor and points at the scene, eyes livid, feeling a bubbling, frothing rage that heated him like the fire and brimstone of hell—for the first time in quite a while.

“I-I really didn’t do it!” Theodore hisses, shrinking in on himself as Todd’s hulking form blocks the exit, and Granny Ethel’s small form boxes him on from the other side. “I—”

She clears her throat before anything more could be said.

“Dears,” she says in her soft voice, and no matter how soft it is, it always catches their attention as clear as a blaring horn. She leaves it at that, for a moment, as they all three freeze and look to her, obedient, watching as she picks up the scythe by its handle and eases it out of the downy feathers and cotton, holding it between her fingers like it’s made of delicate glass.

“You never have to worry about me. You see, I am blessed with incredible luck. Please, go on back to bed. I’ll take care of this.” A small, serene smile crosses her face—as kind as any of the others, but hiding something underneath.

Something like a secret Todd knows he has to uncover before anything like this ever happens again.

[garthups]

the maze, part II

Thanks again y’all, still getting used to tumblr. Any feedback appreciated!

Link to part I

“O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!” Lottie gasped, hand to her heart.

“With what, in the name of God?” Sam gasped in response.

“My lord,” She went on “as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced, no hat upon his head his tighty whities fowled--”

I spit out apple bits laughing, “Dumb shit, I can’t believe you still remembered the bits we made about the monologues.”

“Well yeah, I had to memorize all your lines as your esteem’d understudy, fair O-phoebe-ia.” She bowed. I lead us through a right turn.

“And I get nothing for remembering my Polonius lines? Nothing at all?” 

“I helped him practice on the way in of course.” Matrix interjected. Lottie and I howled and called Sam a fake fan of Shakespeare. We took a left, it had been about five minutes since we got into the maze, and it was taking everything I could to stop looking up. The gang all told me to ignore it. Even Matrix was starting to pick up on when I was slowing down in the front of the group. Still though, I had a fairly confident idea of where we were going. The first station was only a little ways away.

“When you hit 4K I considered unfollowing you dude, god damn. Your followers now outnumber the POSTS on my private.”

“Sorry Lottie, what can I say. The people want them some Sam.”

“Ewwwwww, Matrix, can you like discipline him?” Nobody was saying it but I could feel the question coming. I fucking hated it when anybody talked about instagram latley, but I knew these guys too well for them to not ask.

“Did anyone notice the guy handing out flashlights?” Not what I expected. The maze curved off to our right. “Without a doubt the skinniest man I’ve ever seen.”

“Matrix, no dude.” Sam laughed, “That kid looked exactly like a younger you, ya big beefcake.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? I couldn’t take my eyes off him! Only reason I didn’t say anything right away was because Phoebe was uhh ya know. But yeah, same flop of blonde hair, same stud earring on the left side.” Sam’s comment stuck in my head for a second, which made me feel self conscious. He was right though, I didn’t get a look at the guy at all. Too busy looking at the titanic corn.

“Didn’t really notice his hair and stuff, I guess I might’ve been too distracted by his hands and wrists when I got our flashlight. I think I could see every bone in that guys arm. Lottie? Phoebe? What did you think about him?”

“I thought it was makeup. Like corn syrup.” Lottie was talking slowly. “The closer we got though, the more I thought it looked like real, like, blood.”

My foot slipped. I caught myself, bringing the other foot down hard and running forward a few steps before stopping. I swore and looked back. At first I was confused by what I saw, so I walked back to where I slipped slowly. There was a mouth in the dirt. And a chin jutted out from the soil.

“Whoa, you good Phoebe?” Matrix said. My phone flashlight came on.

“Hey that thing looks like a face.” Lottie said. It was horrible. A perfect face in the mud. An old man, with his eyes closed. The same color as the earth around it. But he was grimacing in pain, brow scrunched and mouth downturned, a grotesque drama mask. No, hold on, the face was pale and grey and I thought I could see pores.

“Yo who the FUCK made that thing?” Sam said. He was kneeling down while me, Lottie, and Matrix distanced ourselves. 

“Sam, Sam don’t touch that thing please.” I whispered intensely. My sweat was concentrated on my forehead and temples. “Please Sam, please.” He froze half knelt down, arm downstreached, and he looked at me.

“It’s fine Phoebes, don’t worry. Just some sick thing someone buried. I hope.”

“Please Sam, let’s just go. It’s really grossing me out.” Lottie was putting her arm around me, and I covered my eyes up. Lottie must’ve made a face, because Sam’s tone changed.

  “Alright dude, no worries. We can keep moving. Fucking weird though.” I uncovered my eyes and Sam had a hand against the face. His eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion as he ran a couple fingers along it. Suddenly he pulled his hand back to himself and started walking. I didn’t need anymore faces in this maze.

“Come on guys. Fuckin weird. Cold, and it felt like it was breathing. Ugh. Well if we see it on the way back, I’m getting a photo.”

The farmers must’ve planted the crop out from the middle, because as we got farther into the maze the corn looked like it was getting taller. I tried not to look up and stave off anxiety by talking to the gang. Ever since I slipped on that face it was hard for me to participate in a light hearted conversation like before. Everyone seemed much more quick to brush it off, but it stayed with me. Just how off it was. When I turned back in, I caught Matrix saying something about high school, or something.

“That’s how it was, Lottie. Go Spartans though, I guess.” 

“That’s really good coming from a walking varsity jacket. Spartans, really? Did you go to Teen High in Municipalityville?” Said Lottie.

“It was a small school! What can I say?”

“Dude tell them about your biggest rival.” The fact that Matrix went to an auto-generated high school cheered me up.

Matrix sighed, “The Northside…... Bulldogs. Happy, shrimpy?”

“Extremely.” Sam pumped his fist and gave Lottie a low five. I smiled. Didn’t know how they were managing high fives though, I was totally freezing and kept mine tightly balled in my puffy vest. The cold was getting worse now that it was later in the night, I assumed. I could see my breath spilling out in front of me, maybe it was all the walking that was making me take shallower and shallower breaths.

“Right uhhh, Phoebe?” Matrix asked. I realized I hadn’t heard his question. “It is Phoebe right?”

He didn’t sound like he was kidding. Lottie laughed, “Seriously?”

“Bad with names, god, my bad.” Ouch.

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t even hear what you said.”

“I was just saying how these guys don’t know how hard it was to be in the school spotlight all the time. Dunno if you guys had a volleyball team, but I guess being captain had similar clout to being the best at a big theatre school like yours.”

“Oh,” --God I felt so awkward-- “well no I was just kinda, like, in Little Shop. Basically that was it.”

Sam chimed in, “Hah that’s rich. I guess all those superlatives were nothing then. I’m telling ya bud. Phoebe,” he nudged Matrix while putting emphasis on my name, “was the coolest of the cool.”

“Yeah, Phoebe,” Lottie gave Matrix another nudge, “remember when you single handedly brought crochet tops to the valley? We were never the same. I remember seeing all those freshmen on the library computers printing out knitting patterns. They all wanted to be like you.”

“Uhh guys, could we not? Not that I don’t like reminiscing, but I’d rather be on my maze A-game.”

“I still get a memory pop up in my photos of me wearing a crochet top like once a month.” Sam laughed, guess no A-game. I looked at the corn to my left to avoid eye contact with anyone. Then, out of nowhere, Sam said exactly the question I was afraid that one of them would ask. “Hey speaking of which, how come you never post anything Phoebe? Like the last thing on your feed is your dorm pic. What have you been up to?” And I just let the question hang there. Lottie looked back too, and it looked like even Matrix had slowed his gate in front of us. I hadn’t noticed, but at some point he was turning us each and every way and my pathing wasn’t guiding us anymore.

“Yeah I dunno it’s just been kinda…” I said “boring? I guess. I’m not good at it anymore” And that was when Phoebe screamed. Loud, Loud Scream. Not like when actors try to scream, it was scraping her throat raw. Summoned from deep within, as unholy as what we all saw when we turned to her.

An arm, long and sickly was jutting from out between the stalks, out from the wall of the maze itself. A sick, pustulating arm. The maze itself was plenty wide enough for the four of us, the arm just stretched halfway across the width. I saw more than one elbow on the thing, articulating it at unnatural angles, white sickly skin sloughed off in some places.

There’s no way to react to that sort of thing. I was on the ground before I realized, screaming along with her, tears running down my cheeks. Somehow though, Matrix managed to react. He ran up hitting the thing on one of its elbows. I think he was screaming along with the rest of us. Lottie hit the thing with him, until a couple of hits and the arm came apart at the joint. They managed to pop some of the bubos and yellowy green pus spat over their clothes.

Sam pulled me up and we ran. There was nothing else to do, so we didn’t look back at the arm. All I knew was we needed to get out. We ran ten feet back to the last turn we had taken-- a right turn. We got to the wall of corn. I tried not to get too close, or look too hard at the corn for fear of what else lay behind it. We rounded the corner and.

It was the entrance. Just that single corner and there was the kid at the ticket booth. I had stopped, Sam did too. Lottie kept running, I don’t know if her eyes were open. My heart beat faster and faster, but I couldn’t leave my friend out there, so I kept going too.

We all left the Maze. 

[marklipinski]

 If you missed our last Facebook LIVE live video, here it is!  Please feel free to leave a question or comment.  All are answered.  xoxom

Here are the links to the subjects we spoke about in this episode:

Not Kid(ney)-ing Around

As my search for a life-saving kidney continues, I find that I am now .2 points from having to start dialysis.  In my research, I have most likely decided on hooking myself up, through the stomach, each day and trying to maintain some kind of life from home.  Those who have been in end stage kidney failure tell me that I may actually feel better than I have been (and it’s been pretty grim on some days) and a friend who shall remain nameless [Marie Bostwick] pointed out that I am the biggest homebody in the universe . . . and it’s not like I ever go anywhere anyway. LOL

So I’m still on steroids so sporting a coffin neck is one thing, but now my chipmunk cheeks eclipse my coffin neck!  Shroud cheeks?    So, while I may look like this:

I feel like this:

MR. ELECTRIC CONTINUES ON HIS BOOK TOUR

Mr. Electric’s book, Who Broke the Vase? finally launched and is available in bookstores (local and big box, like Barnes and Noble, etc.)  and other booksellers (even Wal-Mart, etc) around the country!  If you would like an autographed copy of his book (personalized to you or yours) order yours here:  http://bit.ly/2nI6Rj6

       Who Broke the Vase? Quilt

The Who Broke the Vase? quilt is finally finished and beautifully quilted by my buddy Janice Jamison. The kit will be available for pre-orders by the end of this week (I’m just waiting for a final [brand new] back ordered fabric to be shipped)!  I’ll post here and on Facebook as soon as the quilt is listed in the Pickle Road Studios online store.  Because I’m not a brick and mortar shop, I’m  limiting the number of kit sales, so first come first served.

Up next, patterns for lots of different Who Broke the Vase? projects . . .

and

Mr. Electric;s newest book (published in October 2017), Who Am I?

LEARNING

Book Binding

I took a bookbinding class with Linda Lum DeBono  at the Printmaking Center of NJ located in Branchburg, New Joisey.

  At the Printmaking Center of New Jersey with quilter/author/fabric designer, Linda Lum DeBono.

The printmaking design and class studio…

Bookbinding II class at the Printmaking Center of New Jersey

Samples of the books I produced in the class…

Our teacher, Dave DiMarchi of 9 in Hand Press.

Linda Lum DeBono binding her book

L

Printmaking

Quilters Jill Edwards, Brad Pitt, and Meg Cox in the Printmaking on Fabric class at the New Hope- Solebury Community School in wonderful New Hope, Pennsyltucky.   This class is also taught by 9 in Hand Press owner, Dave DiMarchi.

The New Hope Solebury High School where our classes take place.

Some of the supplies we use in class

Take Our Poll

Our first attempt at printing on paper

My Ugly Angel experiment on paper and baby wipes…

My planned layout of cardboard cutouts that I was to print onto fabric

I dropped the damned apple onto the orange, then the time for clean up began.  Still not finished, but you get the drift.

Jill Edwards and Meg Cox giving their projects the side-eye.

MONDO BAG

Cover of the Quiltsmart Mondo Bag pattern!

A sample of the Mondo Bag I bogarted from Liza Lucy’s studio…

An inside view (it’s super roomy)

Here, Quiltsmart owner, Maddie (whom I love love love), gives a tutorial on how to make your own Mondo Bag using her Quiltsmart pattern!

Visit the Glorious Color website to get your complete kit to make your own version of the Mondo Bag

CLICK HERE TO GET YOUR COMPLETE KIT

eats

MARK’S OLIVE OIL COOKIE RECIPE

What you need . . .

4 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup sugar

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1 tablespoon baking powder

3/4 cup olive oil

1 teaspoon lemon oil

1 teaspoon orange oil

1 teaspoon almond oil

1/2 cup half and half or whole milk

2 eggs

1 cup confectioners’ sugar

1 teaspoon meringue powder

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 teaspoon flavored oil such as orange, lemon, almond, or anise, etc. (optional)

colored jimmies, colored non-perils, or coarse sanding sugar (optional)

warm milk or water

Directions . . .

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

You can mix this by hand but I use my KitchenAid mixer using the dough attachment. In the mixing bowl, mix flour, baking powder, cinnamon and sugar and mix it well.  Next, add olive oil, half and half, the flavored oils, and eggs. Turn on the mixer to a medium setting and mix the ingredients together until the dough forms into a ball and away from the sides of the mixing bowl.

Grab small pieces of dough and roll them into 1″ balls and place them on a parchment paper covered cookie sheet, about an inch apart. They’ll puff up just a tiny bit during baking. Before putting them into the oven flatten their tops a little by gently pressing the top of each ball with the bottom of a drinking glass – just a little. Bake for 9 -10 minutes.

To Make Icing: Blend vanilla, flavored oil (optional), meringue powder, and enough warm milk to the confectioner’s sugar to form a smooth icing.

Dip the cookies into the icing and dry the cookies on a wire cake rack or directly on waxed paper. While the icing is still wet sprinkle them with colored non-perils, jimmies, or coarse sanding sugar.

HOMEMAKERS COUNTRY QUILTERS

Website: www.homemakerscountryquilters.org

ON MY WAY HOME

My visit with Mother Therese of Jesus

This is the cloister.  It’s huge.  On the bottom left side of the photo, beyond the trees is the terra cotta roofed mausoleum where the nuns are buried.

Some of the Carmelites in the cloister ages ago. I am told that there are only 4 cloistered nuns in the compound, the youngest in her 70’s.

Guess who?  Kinda creepy to me, but many cultures take photos of their deceased loved ones.

The tomb

The Grille

The Turn

One of the most amazing windows inside the shrine.  Each piece was made in Germany and sent to the United States for this building.

The Walmart Fat Quarter and now 3rd degree relic

Kidney Mary and Bonnie on the day we visited the National Centre for Padre Pio in Barto, Pennsylvania, where I created a 3rd degree relic brown fat quarter.

This is the wildest book about “Incorruptibles”!  I bought it, read it, then gave it away at some point. Just adding it in case you’re interested or think I’m cra cra . . . or both.  You can also Google “Incorruptibles” fo,r more information

The Incorruptibles: A Study of the Incorruption of the Bodies of Various Catholic Saints and Beati

SPEAKING OF MIRACLES

Here’s a part of a note I received from North Carolina quilter, Jane Lemley, dated August 18, 2015:

‘. . . Also, wondering if you ended up with my wooden pen that you used to sign 3 issues of your magazine after the meeting.  My friend, Clare, borrowed my pen for you to use.  It wouldn’t matter except that it was my Mom’s and she has passed away.  If not, no worries…maybe it’s on it’s way back to her!

Thanks again for your wonderful program!  May Slow Stitching stay with us always.

Sincerely, Jane Lemley”

JANE!  I FOUND YOUR PEN in my PROJECTOR CASE!!!  

PLEASE CALL ME at (908)876-1208

IF YOU KNOW JANE, PLEASE LET HER KNOW! 

Look what else I found in that darn case!  LOL  No kidding…

I’m going to sew my SUPER FLY on (or else culturally appropriate Mrs. Roper)

CAPE MAY QUILT & FIBER ARTS SHOW

Historic Cold Spring Village Quilt and Fiber Arts Show

June 24th and 25th.

Historic Cold Spring Village; 720 Route 9; Cape May, NJ

I’ll be speaking there both days.  Mr. Electric will be at the Historic Cold Spring Village Country Store with copies of his book and book readings for the kiddies!

Visit the Historic Cold Spring Village website here: https://hcsv.org/

Both days will feature demonstrations and vendors of quilting, textiles, knitting, crocheting, basket weaving, broom making, wool dyeing, sheep shearing and more! On Saturday, visitors may vote for their favorite quilts in the Welcome Center at the Viewer’s Choice Quilt Show, and on Sunday continue to enjoy the display and see the winners.  A rare wedding quilt, c. 1714, handmade by Cape May Countian Sarah Spicer, will be on display in the Welcome Center for its annual appearance. The quilt was restored in 2012 through a grant from the Cape May County Culture and Heritage Commission. Regional vendors are attending with quilting and sewing fabrics, yarn, baskets, supplies, and equipment to help inspire the creation of an heirloom project.

NEW BOOKS

Zen Doodle Calm

It’s out in October!

SENT

Thanks for the laugh, Kathy.

I found out that The Jolly Taxpayer Hotel which was built in 1906 was taken down 7-8 years ago and is now the Jameson House, an office and condo tower that was built in 2011.

Before and after

Before

After

Oh, and it was never a gay bar LOL

CALL YOUR SHOP

Tell your local shopkeeper that the Auriful’s  BEST SELLING THREAD COLLECTION, THE BASICS COLLECTION, is on sale at Checker.  Have you shop order a few.  If you don’t have one, buy one.  You will not regret it.

Yes, I sell them in my online store, but I would love it if you supported (or at least tried to support) your local brick and mortar quilt shop!  xoxom

  CATALOGS & MAGAZINES

Uppercase Magazine

The newest Uppercase issue has arrived!  Get yours here 

Spoonflower Catalog

A catalog? Ask for one here 

Take Our Poll

Sew News

I love this magazine!  There is always something I’m interested in (and I don’t sew clothing nor do I consider myself a “sewist”).  Find out about Sew News here 

      SHOWS

Mary Schaefer

This is the Gwen Marston book I referenced this week.

`

Catch the show, The Mary Schafer Collection: A Legacy of Quilt History at the Mercer Museum

in Doylestown, Pennsylvania until August 13.

https://www.mercermuseum.org

SPEAK YOUR WORDS, OWN YOUR TRUTH

and PUSH BACK AGAINST INJUSTICE and BULLYING

FACEBOOK LIVE with Mark Lipinski and Mr. Electric, May 21, 2017  If you missed our last Facebook LIVE live video, here it is!  Please feel free to leave a question or comment.  

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Grocery Store

Todd the demon is a he, now, if only because Granny Ethel insists upon using copious ‘Dear boy, keep trying’ and ‘Atta boy!’ critiques to varying degrees depending on how well his needlework, crochet, and knitting attempts progress.

Gender isn’t a concept the demon concerned himself with before. If Todd had been, say, a girl named Tonya, he supposes he’d be a she instead. If Todd had been gender-neutral and properly communicated with his grandmother, he supposes she would call him they or child, appropriately. Granny Ethel isn’t one to discriminate. Even when she properly wears her glasses and sees his obviously un-Todd-like appearance, only shaking her head and smiling with a good-natured “kids these days” on her lips. But he wouldn’t mind if Granny Ethel called him boy, girl, thing, or abomination, so long as she stayed happy.

Granny Ethel is a patient woman. Todd simply can’t understand why or how she’d become the black sheep of her family, especially after a full week of living with her hospitality. Through the constant baked goods and the modest but satisfying three-meals-a-day; the careful (oh-so-careful) dusting of trinkets and bookshelves with tiny cloths and feather dusters not fit for large claws, which he insists upon doing while she looks on in worry before brewing more coffee; the midday television re-run breaks spent sealing cash donations into envelopes and discussing human rights issues instead of watching old shows, he simply can’t think of her as anything but a paragon of her kind.

It’s a problem with them, he concludes. Not her.

It isn’t a decision he makes lightly.

Spending such a brief time with her, he’s already learned so much more about humans than he ever would have cared to know, beyond perceiving them as vessels or a means to an end. There is much suffering in the world—sometimes even more than that in Hell—but there is also kindness.

He’s known that, but he witnesses it first hand during their first trip outside of Granny Ethel’s home.

“Come, now, Todd, we have much shopping to do. I’m afraid my pantry isn’t stocked appropriately for the upcoming food donation drive and I can’t just skip it this month.”

Todd remembers addressing an envelope to the local food bank—most people would stop there, figuring their good deed was done.

“I also have to stock up on this week’s groceries. Feel free to buy whatever you want, dear. I can cook anything, you know! At least, I try. I suppose you’d like some snacks, too. But I am so glad you’re here; think of all the bags we can carry between the two of us!”

There is no car in Granny Ethel’s driveway, or a garage to store it. He wonders how they’re going to make it to the grocery store as he waits for her to lock the door behind them, as she hobbles down the two small concrete steps with her cane in hand.

It isn’t until she’s halfway down the sidewalk that he realizes they’re walking. In public.

An old crone in black and a demon at her side, wearing a handmade shawl so lovingly stitched with various, terrifying occult symbols.

He isn’t the only one who sees a problem with this—the neighbor’s dog, a small, bug-eyed thing, yaps indignantly at them from the front lawn as it bounces around the dewy grass at its owner’s feet, soon erupting in warning yowls and howls, before falling silent mid-yip when Todd locks eyes with it. The neighbor—Maurice, if he remembers Granny Ethel’s gossip correctly—stands frozen, watering can dangling limp from his hand as he overwaters the begonias at his feet, mouth hanging open in undignified disbelief.

“Good morning, Maurice!” Granny Ethel calls with unmitigated cheer, and a hint of pride. “Nice morning, isn’t it? Oh! Have you met my wonderful grandson Todd? He finally came to visit! We’re going shopping now. Will you watch my house?”

Maurice simply stares, dumb with shock.

Halfway down the block, another neighbor’s car brakes with a squeal before they make it out of the driveway and they stick their head out of the window to gape.

Shutters crack open. Curtains are shoved aside.

Before Todd knows it, they are the cul-de-sac’s center of attention.

Granny Ethel doesn’t pay it any mind and continues obliviously on, waving to each face in turn as those faces pale, yet hers remains rosy.

“My, such a busy day today. I haven’t seen everyone out like this since the Fourth of July block party. Oh, if you’re still here during summer, Todd, we should definitely take part. Maybe we should start knitting an American flag for the occasion. What do you think?”

He can only nod.

They make it to the grocery store without incident—aside from the broken fire hydrant caused by a distracted driver and the one, single person who ran away screaming, and the handful that crossed themselves, and the one person bold enough to snap a picture with their phone before Todd grabbed it from their hands and threw it while Granny Ethel wasn’t looking, too distracted with how well the city’s roadside flowers were blooming—and Todd, ever the gentledemon, takes a small shopping cart from its line and trails behind Granny Ethel as she consults the list taken from her purse.

As expected, those within the store stop and stare. Even the calming elevator music jolts to a pause.

A young man in an employee vest, who looks high, shoots Todd the demon-horn hand sign and smiles before swaggering away to the frozen food aisle, and the manager meekly approaches them, skirting around a fresh fruit display.

“Ma’am, is there—is there something I can—do you need help?” he asks, sweating from his receding hairline to his neck as he tugs at his collar and straightens his frumpy tie.

“Oh! I’m so glad you asked. I didn’t see any sales circulars by the door—what kind of specials are on right now? Particularly on things like pizzas and cereals and whatever else young men like to eat.” Granny Ethel leans in close to the man, close enough to loudly whisper, “See, my grandson here is a quiet, shy boy despite his appearance, and I don’t think he’d ask me himself, but I bet he’d love to get some junk food to snack on between meals.”

The manager’s eyes widen, blood-shot, as he looks to Todd, who only smiles—which comes off as terrifying, he’s certain, with all the sharp teeth and red eyes involved.

“S-SURE! Junk food. Right. Um—uh, w-well, I think there’s a BOGO—buy one get one free—deal on the frozen pizzas. Uh…most cereals are marked down right now…th-there’s a sale on potato chips…hot dogs…” His voice trails off, too burdened with trembles and fear as he continues to hold Todd’s gaze. “And—you know, I’m sure some other employee can help you, ma’am. I’m not one anymore as of this moment. I QUIT.” That said, he yanks the flimsy plastic nametag from his shirt and runs for the door, followed by half of the shoppers who abandon their carts and drop their baskets, scattering groceries everywhere.

Granny Ethel watches him go, then sighs. “He must have been overworked and stressed. I almost walked out on a job a long time ago for the same reasons, but I needed it. You be careful of corporate America, Todd.”

He takes her words to heart, and he fully agrees.

Shoppers that remain in the grocery mart avoid them at all costs as they meander through the frozen food section, the bread aisle, the junk food corner—and Granny Ethel pays them no mind, filling the cart to the brim with refills of groceries she needs back at home and treats she thinks Todd needs more of in his life. He supposes he does, if she says he does. Far be it from him to contradict her adolescent-savvy wisdom.

Even so, the single shopping cart is far too small for all of the spoils—halfway through the shopping list, he finds them in need of another. It isn’t an issue. Many are left scattered, abandoned, around almost every corner. By the end of the list, both carts are full to the brim, and Granny Ethel is simply beaming.

The checkout lines are deserted—they have their pick. Although only one station is manned by a clerk, and it greatly narrows their choice.

As Todd wheels the two shopping carts to the register, he recognizes the young employee from before, who once again shoots him the demon-horn hand symbol.

“Love your poncho, dude,” Sam (as his nametag reads) comments with a bit of a tired drawl, and there are dark shadows under his eyes as expected from an overworked youth on minimum wage, but he is otherwise energetic, quickly scanning each of the items set on the conveyor belt, and smiling at demon and old woman in turn. “Did the little lady here knit that for you?”

“Crocheted!” Granny Ethel corrects with a grin, preening like a proud parakeet. “It does suit him, doesn’t it? Of course, I would never make something that didn’t suit my dear grandson. He must always be well-dressed.”

“You seem like a really supportive gramma. That’s cool. When I was in my super hardcore death metal phase, mine just dragged me to church every Sunday.” A digital beep accompanies nearly every word as he skillfully rings up each grocery down the line.

“Oh, I would never do that. Mainly because I no longer belong to a church. And also because Todd seems so averse to discussing Bible passages, so I never force him.”

At this, Todd gives a wry smile. He places the final handful of groceries onto the conveyor belt and sidles around Granny to the other side of the checkout, bagging the groceries that have already been scanned. It seems the official bag boy has fled in fright.

“I can imagine. Never one for religion, myself. Oh, and you’re eligible for the senior citizen’s discount, so let me just…” Sam pauses a moment to key in a code on the register and it dings. “Aaand, there. Your total comes out to $204.56. Stocking up for the winter already? It’s only March.”

“Oh, dear, no. Half of this is for the food drive!” Granny Ethel chuckles good-naturedly as she leans her cane against the counter and digs through her small pocketbook and produces a checkbook, then dives back in to search for her favorite pen.

Sam turns to Todd while awaiting payment. “By the way, dude, that costume is killer. I’ve never seen anything so realistic, with the added bonus that you scared the boss away! Totally made my day. My week, even.”

Todd gives a nod, happy to be of service, even if it isn’t a costume. He can’t exactly say it aloud. Perhaps one day he’ll learn how to speak English coherently, but for now nonverbal cues work just fine.

Finally, Granny Ethel finds her pink, plastic jewel-encrusted ballpoint pen and makes out a check to DeVille-Mart, even going so far as to take one of the heavier paper bags for herself, never one to make Todd carry all of the groceries himself. “You have a wonderful day, young man. Thank you.”

“Y’all have a great day, too, Ma’am.” Sam offers a toothy smile, and it seems sincere enough as he sees them off with a lazy wave “Hope to be seeing you shop here again.”

Todd isn’t so sure they’ll ever return once upper management hears about this visit, but it’s nice to know they are accepted by at least one individual.

“Now, Todd, let’s get to the food bank. We have such a long day ahead of us. But there’s a reward at the end of it—I bought ingredients specifically for chocolate turtle brownies!”

If the visit to the food bank is in any way similar to this excursion—and it will be, he decides, as yet another gawking driver’s car slow-collides with the corner vending machine when they pass through the automatic doors—they have a long day ahead of them, indeed.