#pb stop talking about these two for FIVE MINUTES challenge

[sarcasticace]

wait why is AME b2 so bad??

Under the cut because this gets long and kinda rant-y, sorry

 - The writers should’ve never implemented double elimination. It helped this season feel different, which was something this book needed to be successful, but it only made it feel like the new characters left way too soon. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like we hardly got to know most of them. I get that it was so there was never an odd number of contestants, but they could’ve done something like… winner is exempt every other challenge or something.

 - I am convinced the writers DID NOT know what to do with Ivy or Vince. Particularly Ivy. They kept switching between the 2D villain Adam-mancers love to petty hate to this really compelling (at least imo), complicated rival character.  They should have stuck with the later AND they should have paired Ivy with MC at least once, leading to addressing her betrayal from last season: letting players forgive Ivy and move on (and rekindle their romance if players did that last season) or remain bitter towards her. But mostly pairing MC and Ivy in a challenge for the drama. It boggles my mind that both Ivy and MC are in the same season, but no one bothered to pair them up. I vaguely remember it was one of the reasons S10 didn’t tank. I might be remembering some details wrong, but in-universe, didn’t fans tune it to see that sweet MC/Ivy drama? Any good showrunner would have taken advantage and milked the hell out of it by doing whatever they can to put the two in the same room. I guess Carson being portrayed as incompetent subverted that, but Carson is a fictional character so that doesn’t count. If the writers weren’t going to fully take advantage of the Ivy/MC dynamic, they should have cut Ivy from the book entirely.

 - The partners. This was such a brilliant idea, but omg did they fuck it up. Why did they ONLY pair MC with Slater, Vince, and Adam. I mean, of fucking course it’s Adam, but they should’ve made it so the contestants got new partners AFTER EVERY CHALLENGE. Not when Carson felt like it or something came up. And MC should never have been paired with Adam (or Mack and Derek for that matter). It should have been Ivy (for the above reason) and all the new characters especially if they were committed to the idea of double eliminations. That way players get to know the characters one-on-one before they’re gone. Obviously, Adam is gonna stick around till the end because he’s one of the LIs and he’s on the cover. Also because of the whole proposal setup. Making him one of MC’s partners is a waste of time when you have new characters that will be leaving way before him. Diamond scenes aren’t going anywhere. That’s where they’re putting LI character+romantic development nowadays. MC, Adam, Mack, and Derek seem to have formed a friends group. They interact the most and there are several entire chapters where those three (+Jen) are the only characters to appear. What’s the point? Just pull a Total Drama and bring back the old contestants in a season 10.2, but switch up the elimination order. Having said that, yes, we do get to interact a lot with Eden/Heath and Kiara, but not characters like Yvette and Rowan. Maybe it’s just me, but I felt like I knew more about Ryder, Lina, and Han in their short time than any of the new All-Stars. These are winners and VIPs of previous seasons. They should have something to offer! If the new characters mean nothing then why waste the assets. Take Yvette for example… she’s a mom and willing to use her kids to guilt people into not voting her off. Enough to make players dislike her, but besides that moments and a few single lines, she’s a throwaway characters. And to prove my point, PB didn’t even wait for AME2 to finish before recycling her character model for a minor patient character in Open Heart. I don’t care about PB reusing assets, but can they stop being THAT lazy for five minutes.

 - There’s the fact that they didn’t do anything creative with partners outside of the ones involving the MC. Particularly the ones for the LIs. Vince, for example, didn’t get paired with Adam AT ALL despite their history. Just like with MC/Ivy, why would any showrunner worth their salt not want to capitalize on the drama between Adam and Vince? Same goes for the actual writers of this book. Why even have Adam around if not to spice things up with Vince? 

 - And since we’re on the topic of Vince… why did he not have that big of a role? I mean, on one hand, I kinda like that he’s just a diva and annoying. I’ll give B2 that much, they subverted my expectation of Vince being the main villain of this book, but in all honestly… they should’ve went with that route. It would’ve been exciting if MC would have to ally with Ivy in order to defeat a worse contestant. Then I was expecting Slater to be the secret big bad and Vince would be a red herring, but again… nope. Vince is just a diva and Slater plays rough. Those aren’t bad things, but they were also disappointing… much like the entire book. I know they didn’t want to copy what they did in the last book, but having this book’s finale just include your friends/LI rather than having it you vs. your rival is kinda lackluster imo.

 - One last thing about Vince… he almost seriously injured Adam in one of the earlier chapters and it’s never brought up again. Ever! They could’ve included a scene later on, like B1 had with Zeke, where MC could decide whether to reveal they saw Vince mess with the controls and that’d sway the opinions of the jury house and affect whether or not they’d listen to him. But of course that’s not what happened. This is Choices so consequences are only every applied to the MC. 

 - This “dating Jen” drama should’ve been done in full back in B1, but only for players actually romancing Jen. No offence to the other LIs, but Jen was the most appealing. Having a forbidden romance with one of the producers? Narrowly avoiding getting caught and risking your chance of staying on the show? It’s way more interesting that Adam/Mackenzie all of a sudden falling for MC just because. We know PB has the coding power. They could’ve and should’ve done it If they’re gonna have multiple endings for RoD, of all books, then they should commit to a standard for their books and should’ve coded AME A LOT better. Hell, they should’ve just outlined the whole series better, but we ended up with… this.

 - Also they need to do something with Mack’s backstory… her family is poor? She wants the prize money to put her sister through college. And yet she ONLY ever sabotaged Ryder then fell in love with MC and did nothing dirty for the rest of both seasons. If they weren’t gonna make Ivy a complicated rival character, they should’ve just cut Ivy all together and given that storyline to Mack. This is mostly a B1 complaint, but it follows through to B2 because they don’t commit with Ivy and don’t do much  with Mack. They introduce her family, which was interesting, but idk she lost a lot of appeal for me in B1 when she fell head over heals for my MC for no reason. Mackenzie’s route had “slow burn” written all over it, but they neglected her. Either Mack should’ve been the rival LI or they should’ve cut her and made Adam fully customizable (like Hayden) then have Ivy fill the role of second female LI.

- Again with Mack… her complaining about cheating is really funny and kinda OOC. Like I mentioned before, she literally sabotaged Ryder because he was a jerk and she wanted to win. Did the writers forget about that? This was just one of several points that shows the writers did not care about their own story and characters. 

 - Also they needed to do something? … anything… with Derek. Poor man, he’s the only LI who gets how this show is played. He deserves better. I don’t talk about Derek much, but I honestly love this man. He’s just dull. He needs… anything. Give him anything. Like the only significant storyline they gave him, that I can remember, is his show-mance with Ivy and that was more Ivy’s storyline than his.

 - And Bianca being friend-zoned despite PB bringing her back. Really? PB must know a lot of fans like her. At the very least a lot of tumblr fans. Idk why they wouldn’t want to capitalize on that. Did they really think it wasn’t a good idea to give her a few diamond scenes? Did neglecting her again make them more money? So instead of giving Bianca… literally anything, they give Slater, a completely new character, a couple of diamond scenes and let players be a little flirty with him. 

 - Having Eden/Heath and Kiara getting into an accident was a good twist, I was genuinely worried about them, but I gotta laugh that it took them both out of the competition. I mean, it makes sense. They were seriously injured. Realistically, they wouldn’t be able to compete, but their elimination brought the final 6 to MC, the LIs, Vince, and Ivy/Slater. Determinant 5 of 6 contestants are from S10 and one has been in 3 seasons, 2 of which he quit. That’s so dumb. Like… were there ANY in-universe fans who saw this and thought this show was rigged? I mean, more than fans normally would about reality shows?

 - How did Mack, Adam, and Derek even get on this show? At first I thought MC was surrounded by celebrities. Bianca was a model, Han was an athlete, Ryder was a pop star, etc etc. I assumed everyone else were celebutantes or something and MC was the odd one out who got lucky when they stumbled across Whitney and Jen. But nah, Mack and Adam (and I think Derek too) are just college students who applied for the show to pay for tuition??? If they’re not famous or didn’t come from fame, why did Piper invite them to compete in the first place? What was so special about them that drew her attention. This is a minor complaint, but it’s just weird to see each of the LIs come from regular families like MC. Not that what we got was bad, but like… did they win a contest or something? What’s the deal? Idk if it’s in a diamond scene I didn’t pay for, but it really should be a free piece of characterization. It would’ve made me care more about the LIs and make them more memorable. 

 - Does anyone think the friendship/ally status does anything besides determine who votes for who at the end of the season? Why would they implement the friendship meter from ES if they don’t use it for alternate dialogue? Because they know most of the characters won’t be in the next book? Probably, but still. I can’t tell if Adam hating MC is any different then Adam being MC’s ally besides him voting for them at the end of S10, but even then, that doesn’t make sense because he has ample reason to not vote for Ivy. And yet he still votes for Ivy if he’s anything lower than ally. Again, mostly a b1 complaint.

 - Someone had a great idea (I forget who, but please message me) that the LIs should be an auto vote and for the rest, whether or not they vote for your should be based on a percentage. The higher the relationship status, the higher the chance. Friends being 75%, neutral being 50% or lower, dislike/hate somewhere around 20 -15%. As an idea.

And that’s the major ones, I’m sure there are more other people can tack on.

[fal-carrington]

Meant to be

Pairing: Victoria x Mc

Disclaimer: The characters belongs to PB

A/N: Hi, I'm back with a new fanfic. the lack of fanfics from Victoria and Mc disturb me deeply, so since our wife Kamilah is spending time out in the war and only God knows when she will return, I decided to start this new fanfic in a not-so-au universe. Enjoy!

Prompt: Weddings are a challenge, even more so when it comes to the two most famous women in Los Angeles. Hollywood weddings are famous for not lasting. Three and a half years of marriage were like a one-way to hell. After countless fights and no reconciliation success, Kitty and Victoria's marriage is on the verge of a terrible shipwreck. Victoria at risk of her third divorce and Kitty to lose the love of her life once and for all, but the two wrecks could be saved of the eminent disaster before the divorce papers are signed?

9h30 am, Los Angeles

“She doesn’t hear me!”

“She acts like a child!”

“I'm sick of it.”

"Are you tired of it? Try to be married to a teenager who thinks she's right all the time and who does just what she wants.”

“I think I'm right all the time? You're confusing me with you! I'm the one who keeps on apologizing!” Kitty snorted angrily, looking steadily at the blonde sitting arms and cross-legged.

“I think we had a... Progress today.” Judy, the therapist looked at both of them with a serious look over her glasses. She made a few notes on her pad and looked at the couple again, barely looking at each other. Both on distant and opposite ends on the couch. “Well ... How do you feel now that you two have expressed your feelings?

"Even more angry.” Victoria said between her teeth.

"I have no idea what I'm doing.” Kitty said.

"You never have.” Victoria countered.

“Did you see that?! She incorporates this ‘diva persona’ at all times, thinking that sarcasm will solve our problems!”

“Did you just call me diva?” Victoria looked at her angrily.

“Well, certainly, since you always behave like that. She gets mad at me without me doing anything, not even telling me the reason!”

"I don’t have to tell you. You did the shit, you have to solve it.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I believe we are evolving with our sessions.” Judy answered. “Our next step is to understand and learn to respect the differences between you two. Victoria, you have to learn to be more patient and understanding. Katherine, you in turn have to learn to deal with the situation itself and take it more seriously.”

“I'm taking it seriously! I just do not understand why we need therapy. We're just misunderstanding, I do not think it's necessary.”

"That's exactly why we need therapy." Victoria replied.

"Our time is up." Judy said glancing at the watch on her wrist. "The task I'm going to give to both of you this weekend is to take some time to sit down and talk to spend time together. I'll see you two next Friday and hope you guys took some advantage out of today's session.”

Victoria got up and left the office with Kitty behind her. The blonde reached the sidewalk in front of the office and was greeted with flashes of paparazzis, she rolled her eyes and put on her sunglasses. They both got into the car, which was launched into the streets of Los Angeles.

Kitty looked tentatively at her wife. Victoria watched the street out the window with an expression on her face that Kitty knew perfectly well and feared that expression. The blonde's lips were compressed, her jaw closed, and a furious look in her brown eyes.

The brunette girl sighed.

"So, uh... Vic?" Kitty called out.

“What?” Victoria asked without turning.

"Uh... Do you want some coffee? I'm free now and I just have to be on set from two hours.”

“I can not. I have rehearsals now. I told you twice today.”

“Oh. I forgot, I'm sorry.”

Victoria sighed and looked at her.

"Look, I'm really sorry I was late for your mother's dinner last Saturday. I did not know it would be so long on set. And besides, your cousin's cake was not even that good...”

“What? Katherine!”

“I'm telling the truth! And you should not have yelled at Teja for having defended me after our incident at the bar.”

"She was getting on top of you!"

“She was drunk!”

"Okay, Kitty, what's your point?" Victoria sighed.

"We're both wrong and we've been fighting for stupid things for some time. So can we at least give a break? And please stop fighting?”

Victoria took a deep breath, swallowing what she had to say that would probably end the moment. Kitty was trying, she had to recognize it. She looked at the blue-eyed brunette.

“Of course. It was getting tiring to fight against you.”

Kitty smiled.

"...And if you want, I can cook for you tonight."

“We're talking now. I promise I'll be home early.”

“Ok then. Sounds like a plan.”

Victoria stared at her Chanel watch. 23:30 pm and nothing from her. No calls, no messages. Yeah, she could not say she was surprised. Could she have forgotten?

Since Kitty had become one of the most important stars in Hollywood, she did not have time for almost anything. Victoria understood and respected this, she also made films, appearances, interviews and everything, but she stopped from time to time to try to spend time with her wife too.

Things had waned since their second year of marriage. Things were different and real with Kitty, unlike her other marriages. She was happy and knew that Kitty was the perfect person for her. Thirty-eight years old and she was in love with a twenty-five-year-old girl. Despite that, she wondered if Kitty was mature enough to maintain that relationship. To maintain that wedding.

Kitty was the kind of person who at the same time did not take herself seriously, she took herself seriously. But she still had a breathtaking smile that irritated Victoria every time she saw her with that smile.

Victoria sighed and extinguished the candle in front of her. It was kind of sad to think she'd wasted time expecting that only person. She never dealt very well with her feelings, her anger always ended up getting the best for her and she would probably explode eventually.

She got up and collected the dishes, keeping the rest of the dinner that was laid out on the table.

Deciding that the best thing would be to sit in the living room and wait. After a few minutes and a few glasses of wine, she finally could hear the sound of the front door of the large mansion opening.

Kitty had finally appeared. She set the keys carefully on the glass table as she looked at Victoria as if she were looking at a wild bear. Victoria looked over her glass of wine.

"A little late, is not it?"

“I had to redo some scenes...”

Victoria set her wine aside.

“Save it. Dinner's in the fridge. If you are hungry, warm.” She stood up threatening to leave the room. Kitty stepped in front of her. "Get out of the way, Kitty. She said patiently, holding her tongue to keep from exploding again.

"I know, I'm wrong this time, and I'll do my best to repay you."

"Get out of my way, Katherine.”

Kitty sighed and did so.

“I'm so sorry. Really. Please forgive me for missing the dinner.”

"I bet you do." The blonde said with an ugly face as she walked down the long corridor of the mansion in her fluttering black robe, as she walked quickly, Kitty was trying to follow her.

“Victoria... Tell me what to do. I do anything.” She stopped in front of the bedroom door. “My cell phone battery is gone. I swear, there was no way I could respond to warn you that I was going to be late. And you know how Thomas can be strict with the use of cell phones on the set!”

“You don’t need to do anything.” Victoria entered the room and headed for the bed, taking a pillow and returning to Kitty and handing it to her.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” The brunette stared at the pillow without understanding.

“Use him to sleep.”

“Victoria...”

"I do not give a damn just... No.”

"Are you really pushing me out of our room? Where should I sleep?”

Victoria shrugged.

"You do not think it's too much? I told you I'm sorry!”

"I've heard it a million times, Katherine! You always feel sorry, you feel a lot every time you do shit and come with that puppy face of regret! I'm tired of hearing the same thing every time.” Victoria, unable to stop herself, shouted. "But you know what? I do not care! If every time you act as if all the things that come out are more important than us...”

“Do not say that! I never put my responsibilities ahead of us! I never did, you are the most important thing on the world for me.”

“I understand about the movies, the interviews, the trips to film out... The only thing I do not understand is Hunt!”

“He's just a friend! How many times do I have to say?”

“I was not born yesterday. You may have been born, but I have not. I've seen the way he looks at you.”

Kitty sighed and ran her hand through her hair as she always did whenever she felt frustrated.

"Stop with that jealousy, silly. I’m only faithful to you, you are the only one that I want.”

"You don’t sleep here tonight." Victoria replied coldly, Kitty sighed and nodded in an ugly face, as if accepting her punishment. She stepped back and turned away, as she turned, Victoria undid the ugly expression on her face, replacing it with a sad expression as she watched Kitty walk away.

She sighed and lay on her bed. Victoria reached out her hand and looked closely at the wedding band.

"You know... One hour you'll have to talk to me," Kitty insisted one morning as Victoria paced back and forth, making her coffee. It smelled good, the best thing about waking up early was to smell fresh Victoria's breakfast through the house. The blonde ignored her words, continuing to prepare her pancakes.

Kitty leaned against the counter. Watching her walk away with a plate in her hands and sit down at the table.

"Uh, where are my pancakes?" She asked looking around the kitchen. Victoria held out the spatula for her. She sighed. "Oh, forget it. I'm going to eat some on the way to the set.” She grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder.

The worst thing about being in the middle of fight with Victoria was being blacklisted by her.

“... So clearly you two did not do what I told you both to do." Judy sighed watching the couple barely look into each other's face. "And things are obviously worse, you two are not making it any easier."

"She don’t talk to me," Kitty complained. "It's been a week, and I'm exhausted. I've tried countless ways to get her to forgive me. I bought flowers, presents, I even tried to make her croissants!”

Victoria snorted, rolling her eyes.

"And she ended up burning."

Judy sighed and touched her temples.

"You kicked me out of the room!"

"You deserved!"

"Now are you talking to me ?!"

"Okay, okay. Enough you two. You spent all our time in therapy discussing the reason for this stupid fight. I do not care. You both solve this, you two have to understand that if you continue with this, your marriage will not last for long.”

And for the first time that week, they both looked at each other. The fear was evident.

[scoutshonor56]

Sex, Violence, & The Natural Order of Things

How’s that for a Holiday attention grabber… OK, spoiler alert, this blog has nothing to do with the Holidays, but neither is it repugnant, or negative in nature – rather it is life-affirming at its most basic level.  Before I go on, look at the interestingly beautiful header picture above and think on it for a minute or two; then give your best guess as to what it is, where it is, and who – or what – made it; I think you’ll be surprised.  I myself was profoundly awed.

 Those who know me well know I’m an avid and enthusiastic fan of just about anything to do with nature: I’ve subscribed to National Geographic for most of my adult life, their network is on my “favorites” list of TV channels, and I often record the wonderful PBS broadcasts of “NOVA” and “Nature”.

 Why do I find shows such as these so fascinating? Certainly the incredible camera work, that thanks to today’s technology takes the viewer to places sometimes far away, sometimes in your backyard, sometimes so small it’s almost invisible to the naked eye, or even places far beyond earth’s atmosphere; but the common denominator is all these shows document and explain the world around us; the world we live in, the planet we call home.  A home so diverse in life it’s actually hard to imagine.  Also, a world so full of secretes and yet unknowns.

 You would think that as primates with a highly developed brain, this would be of primary interest to us – understanding our environment with all its complexities; if anything else, in the interest of long-term survival.  But, well, we’re a complex species, and generally politicians, fools, and religious zealots have a different take on the whole thing… but we won’t get sidetracked!

 So where am I going with all this?  A few evenings ago I finally sat down to watch back-to-back episodes of “Extreme Animal Weapons” (NOVA), and “Nature’s Miniature Miracles” (Nature); I’ll start with the show “Extreme Animal Weapons”.  

 In a nutshell, the show was about all the creatures, be they mammal, fish, reptile, bird, or insect, who possess various natural weapons to be used both defensively, and more common, offensively. Keep in mind, we’re not just talking about teeth or claws – we’re talking “extreme”; as in an over-sized growth or appendage of some kind, usually in pairs, that is used for battle. Meaning of course, 99% of the time, male on male to establish dominance. More specifically, with the intent of gaining the sole right to pass on their genes through mating.  

 How’s this for a fun trivia question: In the entire animal kingdom, which species is lugging around the largest attached “weapon” in proportion to its body size?  

 The Fiddler crab.  Some of the species can be as small as a dime, and on the one side of its front end is a nice, small “hand” claw, used primarily for bringing food to its mouth.  Its mate on the other side is a monster appendage that makes up half its body mass, can weigh as much as the rest of the crab’s body, and has a measurable crushing force of five lbs. – more than enough to pierce the carapace of it’s rival. That would be like me having a 190lb. plated arm hanging off my shoulder.  

 But probably the largest group of these armed competitors would be all the mammals with horns or antlers: rams, elk, moose, deer, gazelles, elephant and walrus tusks, the rhinoceros, etc.  Antlers are the fastest growing bone known in nature: A Bull elk from Montana can grow, and replace annually, a pair of antlers weighing up to 40lbs or more.  Imagine the strength of its neck and shoulders to bear this weight atop its head!

 As great as it sounds to be always armed in such a manner, the show also goes on to point out the disadvantages of being blessed/burdened with such an arsenal; this select group pay a price for their status.  For instance, the male Fiddler crab can only eat with the one arm, where most of his opponents can stuff their jaws twice as fast, using both their less impressive front pincers.  Those bearing huge horns and antlers, such as the Bull elk, pay a large biological investment trade-off to annually replace their massive antlers. Having to channel so much calcium into their re-growth, the rest of their skeleton has brittle bones.  The heavier weight likewise makes them just a little bit slower in a chase, requiring more energy to run.

 I couldn’t help but think of our own species as the show pointed out that often these extreme weapons are not even required to be tested in battle; many rival encounters are settled simply with a ritualistic show of power, or size, ending with one or the other deciding to take its search for a mate elsewhere.  How different is that from a macho showdown in any pick-up bar on a Saturday night?  It’s ridiculously easy to imagine two human males circling one another from across the room while sizing up their rival before approaching a single female.  Or maybe she had already shown up with a date, who is presently in the men’s room... and things get serious - well, its “go time”, and at least in appearance, it all comes down to a show of size... or weapon.

 Along those lines, in the animal kingdom the huge appendage is multi-purpose, often also used for show to attract the female. Back to the Fiddler crab, when trying to win the attention of a prospective female, it will be sure to enthusiastically wave around its big claw!  Now think of “bling”, or expensive cars, or flashy suits… How different are we? We may be more evolved, but in such basic biological drives and habits, not that much.

 So how do the Woody Allens of the animal kingdom compete against the Sylvester Stallones?  How is it that they’re still around and haven’t been weeded out of the biological chain?

 They cheat.  They out-maneuver the Schwarzeneggers.  When the female Dung beetle is ready to mate, she burrows down into a narrow pit of sorts, which is zealously guarded by the dominant male who sits atop the little hole.  Not to be denied his amorous urges, a lesser male who is smart enough will tunnel a side entry right next to the female nest and sneak in his self-made “back door” - cool or what?

 The smaller Bull elk will play a lotto game of numbers during the rutting season.  He and a small group of likewise enthusiastic suiters will approach the guarded territory of the female and start a chase, where the dominant male simply can’t keep them all away from the also running female – remember, he is slower in a lengthy chase, and as always, there is strength in numbers.  One of the lucky gang will eventually mount the female on the run and get his prize as he can inseminate in a mere 2 seconds – yeah, not much enjoyment for the female I imagine!  

 OK, enough of the “R” rated stuff, on to the second show, “Nature’s Miniature Miracles”, which obviously dealt with how the small and tiny of the animal kingdom manage to survive on this very big, and often environmentally challenging planet.

 It was equally fascinating, but as I might be boring some of you by now(!), I will include the one featured animal that answers the puzzle of my original question as to who, or what, created the header image of this blog.  That work of art is actually an example of incredibly aesthetic underwater landscaping, and it resides at the bottom of the shallower end of the sea, off the coast of Japan.  It’s six feet wide, a near perfect circle, and was created by the Japanese Pufferfish, who averages about five inches long.  If you look carefully at the image, you can see him just off center in one of the inner furrows, at the 7 or 8 o’clock position.

 You see, the male Japanese Pufferfish is one of the physically disadvantaged in the mating game; his scales and entire body are a shade of blue/gray that almost matches the color of the surrounding landscape, undoubtedly serving him well as a defensive camouflage, but how’s a guy going to get a date when he all but fades into the background?

 To attract a prospective female, the male tirelessly works 24 hours a day for a solid week to create his masterpiece, and all to hopefully lure a bypassing female to pause and think, “Yeah, that looks like a good spot to lay my eggs…”  Both maybe two or three feet above the sand, the male even “corrals” her, repeatedly nudging her toward the center, to make sure she observes and judges his work from the most advantageous perspective.

You’ve got to ask yourself, how does a fish create something so geometrically beautiful and perfect… He even ends his work with a few embellishments and finishing touches, using rocks and shells.  I’ve spent most of my adult life making a living as an artist, and I’ll tell you right now, I’d hang that on my wall over many a museum or gallery piece I’ve seen.  If you were to tell me this was found in an ancient Incan temple, created centuries ago, I’d believe it.  But a fish?  And all that work, just so he can squirt a little semen onto a tiny pile of eggs? That has to make you stop and think – and wonder about the programming and intricacy of this humble fish’s brain.

 When the female eventually makes her choice, it is somehow communicated to the male, who then lets her swim off, knowing she will return to deposit her eggs when ready.  And as a final step, the male then smooths over the center of his beautiful work, making sure the finest and softest sand lay directly center, a perfect mound for the hatchlings.  

 I read the book “Jurassic Park”, and of course saw the (1993) movie, and undoubtedly my favorite character was Dr.  Ian Malcolm, a mathematician who specialized in a branch of mathematics known as "Chaos Theory" (in the movie, played by Jeff Goldblum).  When all the eggheads and geneticists on the island assured the visiting party that there was absolutely no way for the dinosaurs to procreate because all males were weeded out of the process early on – hence, all the resident dinosaurs were female – he expressed his doubt and concern by stating that as a rule, “nature finds a way…” 

 Oh yes it does, because if there is one immutable driving force on this planet, it is the creation of life, and more specifically, the procreation of all existing species, both plant and animal.  A force hard-wired into both the sexes through millions of years of evolution, which is essentially a grand experiment of trial and error.  Survival of the fittest, and debatably even more important, the most able to adapt and change.

 Yes little Billy, there is a God – and his/her name is Life, in the truest and most perfect sense of the word.  It is his/her miracle.

 Before closing I want to share another mind-boggling trivia fact – that’s right Alex, I’ll take “NATURE” for $500:

 Where does 50% of the world’s oxygen come from? “Ah, that would-be phytoplankton…”

“That is CORRECT, for $500!”

Remember, the oceans cover roughly 75% of our planet, and plankton swarms through all of them while existing through the process of photosynthesis – just as our trees and plants.  What could be more beautiful than being nourished by sunlight and hydrocarbons, and giving off oxygen as a by-product?  Why is it so hard to understand that our physical world is an infinitely complex, yet interconnected web of life, and the severing of even one strand has an effect that resonates and disrupts like a sour note through the entire orchestra..?

 But hey, what the hell, don’t worry - if you listen to the GOP, we’ll still have jobs… and gas to drive to them… in a poisoned wasteland devoid of life as we know it…

[bike42]

Grand Canyon Day #3. 10-12-2017

We all emerged from our tents about 6am again. We had a lazy morning which we called “Sunday Morning” as we had a big breakfast and an extra pot of coffee. This am Colin made an “Egg hash brown scramble” from Cache Lakes - the exact thing we ate a lot of on our kayaking adventure. It stayed pretty warm all evening and we slept without the tent fly - so amazing to see the stars and the moon come over the ridge about 2 am. We had plenty of time to stretch and wake up our muscles, but the last two days had really taken a toll on my quads and I was really dragging and even Advil didn’t dull the pain for the first mile or so. Also probably a bit dehydrated, even though I took in over 5 liters yesterday - the dry heat, wind and altitude add to the toughness. Today’s hike was much shorter - just 3.5 miles. When the description of this trip said three nights along the river, I think I pictured us walking along the bank or a low ridge from campsite to campsite. Not at all, but the beauty and the challenge of the route are unparalleled. We started today with a climb along the bank, then turned in and walked along the rim of 75 mile canyon (I believe it’s 75 River miles from the Glen Canyon dam). It was difficult to photograph how awesome the Canyon was as it twisted and snaked away from the Colorado River. When we came to a part that would have been a spectacular waterfall had water been running, we climbed down into the canyon. Colin was tentative with us (good thing) and coached us one at a time as we picked our way down. Two other hikers appeared and walked right down, one with his hands in his pockets! They didn’t stop to chat, but did say this was day 30 for them! It was amazing to walk out of the canyon with its twists and turns, beautiful rocks and walls. Again, the photos we snapped can’t do it justice. Back to the river where we climbed again. Sometimes with some tricky ledges, sometimes through scrubby willows or prickly Acasia bushes, sometimes beaches and sometimes boulders. Once when we were pretty high on a ledge, three kayaks with a support boat and four yellow rafts went by. We yelled out and whistled and they searched the mountain side until they saw us and then waved - and then shot the rapids! Looked like great fun, but you’d need a pretty thick wet suit! We stopped on a nice beach and took a 'pack off' break - some of us even took advantage of soaking our feet. Then we set off to scale the Papago Wall. Colin coached us one by one up the first part, and offered to ferry our packs but we all stubbornly kept them on. It was more technical than our Chilkoot Pass climb, but with good hand holds and moving just one limb at a time it wasn’t too scary. After the initial vertical climb, we hiked up more boulder fields and across a scary ledge, and then looked down at what looked like an impossible descent, but using hands and feet and moving slowly we were soon high-fiving safely down at the bottom. Jeff and I were so glad we’d brought gloves for that section of the climb - the extra grip helped me feel secure. We walked through more large boulders along the river, and stopped for a quick lunch (PB and J on pita bread) and applesauce. I had a flat rock perfect for a combat nap. Then about 45 more minutes along the river to the campground - up and over boulders and through thick vegetation. Once Jeff was behind me and as he avoided a prickly bush, his foot caught a root and it spun him backwards. He landed perfectly on his pack on a pile of dead brush - completely unhurt, but his head was just two feet from the rushing river! So far, that’s been the only tumble among our group. When we got to the campsite along Hance Rapids, there was a small group already set up at the best spot, and another at the far end. We took the middle spot - right in these amazing sand dunes (in the Grand Canyon!!!) with an awesome view overlooking the biggest rapids we’ve seen yet. We decided not to set up the tents right away - with the breeze they might just fill up with sand! We sat and chatted for a bit, then picked our way down to the river to bathe and wash clothes. I washed my hair by leaning backwards over a rock - talk about brain freeze! Jeff soaked his knee, and had an upper body workout trying to only have his knee in the cold water! As Colin made dinner, the rest of us played a game of “Rock Bocci” a game Jeff dreamt up while walking through 75 mile canyon this morning. Tam and Gary beat us 15-10, finishing up just as it got dark and dinner was ready. As we sat in our semi-circle enjoying our Spam, sun dried tomato and polenta concoction - the rocks came alive with little mice once again! We finished dinner and sauntered off to our respective tents - exhausted hikers with full bellies. Another beautiful evening. The stars are amazing and the Little Dipper is peaking out from between the peaks across the river. Today’s hike was 3.5 miles and we were out 5.5 hours. The most technically challenging hike I’d ever done, but it was fun and I felt strong and balanced!

[howlifes-blog]

The rise of India sharing bicycles: Is the East not bright?

In 2015, with the eye-catching small yellow car emerging from Peking University campus, the concept of shared bicycles was quickly popularized. Players took the lead and huge investments continued to flow in. They were in the same name as high-speed rail, mobile payment and online shopping.from "New Four Great Inventions"from . The craze is coming faster and going faster. This year, sharing bicycles entered a cold winter. April,from Mobai bicycles committed to the US group; the small yellow car ofo also lost, the crisisfrom : The overseas business has been fully contracted, and a variety of radical monetization methods have been introduced: the public number pushes the advertisement, binds the user's deposit with the wealth management product, and delays the refund period of the deposit. Last year, I also shared a lot of money to share the bicycle, and it was cool in the blink of an eye. Sharing bicycles to the sea is blocked, and infrastructure and policy specifications are two major obstacles that cannot be ignored. In addition to China, it is difficult to find a market large enough to support the profit model of shared bicycles. But Indian entrepreneurs seem to have different ideas.from Since 2017, there have been nearly a decade of shared bicycle companies, and they have received financing. Yulu, Bangalore raised funds from investors such as Blume Ventures, and was supported by Flipkart co-founder Binny Bansal and Google's former vice president Amit Singhal; another company, Bounce, received $15.2 million from investors such as Sequoia India. Funding; Mobycy, based in Gurgaon, also raised $500,000 in seed funding last December. India’s shared cycling market is thriving. Financing boom Amit Gupta is the co-founder of India's first unicorn Inmobi. When he started his tenth career as a president-level position, he chose to rush,from Founded another company, Yulu bicyclefrom . Near the Bangalore MRT station and the CBD, bright blue Yulu bikes can be found everywhere. Amit told Zhixiang.com to do shared bicycles.from "Indirect pollution reduction"from . He was born and raised in the small town of Kanpur in northern India. In June this year, he was stamped by the World Health Organization as the "world's most polluted city". He talked about his hometown and he was very excited. Yulu bicycles charge only 10 rupees in the first half hourfrom from After that, you will receive 5 rupees per half hour. The user downloads the Yulu application code to drive, and after the end of the ride, the car needs to be parked in the parking area closest to the destination. Industry insiders estimate that India's shared bicycle market is currently worth $1.2 billion.from In addition to Yulu, the main players are Pedl, Mobycy, Bounce and the Mobike from China. "The industry is promising and profitable, and the success of Ola and Uber proves that transportation is likely to move in tandem with mobile phones," said Sajith Pai, an investor at Blume Ventures. The player who recently entered isfrom Bounce from the scooter sharingfrom . In June, ofo withdrew from the Indian market and Bounce recently announced the acquisition of its assets in India. Prior to the acquisition, Bounce launched 500 scooters in Bangalore. "The last mile traffic from the bus or subway station to the office and home is very troublesome, and there aren't any tricycles or taxis that are willing to travel so short distances." Bounce co-founder Vivekananda HR told Zhixiang.com. "The bike we acquired from ofo will also join the pilot." He said that Bounce's application will support the use of bicycles within 45 to 60 days. Indian entrepreneurs inherit from Chinese companies, not only the legacy left by the defeat, but also the foresight of operational management lessons. In Pune and Bangalore, the small blue car Yulu and the small green car Pedl can be seen everywhere. In the beginning, the user can park the car anywhere, even in the middle of the road, causing traffic disorder. Yulu had to send a team to carry the bicycle and park it in the right place. As a result, the cost was too high to sustain, and Yulu learned the lesson and began to work with Pedl to work with the local government to plan the designated parking area. In Bangalore, there are now 500 parking lots, with more than 1,000 in all four cities. Tangled user experience But some problems cannot be solved by "inheritance".from Such as technical and operational errorsfrom . in India,from The user experience of shared bicycles still needs improvementfrom . The personal experience of Zhixiang.com reporters and other users have found that it is not uncommon to include brake failure, smart lock failure, tire leakage, etc., and the parking area is not dense enough. Sometimes users even need to lock the car. Walk another kilometer to the destination. Vivek Kumar is a 22-year-old software engineer who recently moved from Delhi to Bangalore. When he first arrived in Bangalore, he was riding a shared bicycle to take an interview in the city. On the way to the interview, he found that the bicycle chain was broken, which was very embarrassing: he had to park the car to the designated parking area first, otherwise the software would always charge. "I had to push the car to the Pedl stop 500 meters away and spent a lot of time locking the bad car." Kumar told Zhixiang.com. But in fact, Yulu and Pedl also have a dedicated person who maintains the bicycle and maintains it every four days to keep the bicycle in good working order. But Amit said that when the company enters an area, the maintenance situation will be less stable, "because the local business is not yet fully stable." "In those old areas, you will find that our bicycles are in good condition and most of them are working very well. Recently we have deployed near the Electronic City, where a large number of large IT companies such as Infosys, Wipro, etc. are gathered. We need four It takes six weeks to complete the layout," Amit said. But compared to China,from India’s transportation infrastructure is generally backward, which also buried a dark mine for shared bicycles.from . In India, there are few cities that have bicycle lanes; unlike China, cycling has developed into a healthy, avant-garde lifestyle, and Indian bicycles are often seen as commuters. "We entered the shared bicycle industry because we wanted to be a multi-channel travel platform. Urban transport has always been a challenge for both the government and citizens. We hope to solve this problem on a large scale and help improve infrastructure." Rakshak N, head of Pedl's operations growth department, said.

According to Gupta, Yulu has 6,000 bicycles in four cities, while Rakshak says Pedl has 15,000 bicycles in eight cities. Recently, Yulu landed in Mumbai and Bhubaneshwar. The two companies use an average of four to five times per bicycle per day. New model of government-enterprise cooperation The rapid rise of shared bicycles in China,from Driven by startups and capitalfrom After the government's shared bicycle industry was fully blossomed, the government proposed the regulations in a targeted manner. Sharing bicycles to stop and block traffic, scrapping cars affecting the city's polluted environmentfrom It has caused dissatisfaction among the citizens. Many cities have successively issued "no-going orders" to try to limit the endless growth of shared bicycles. But in India, the government is one of the promoters behind it. On November 26th, the chief minister of Orissa, Naveen Patnaik, unveiled the MO bike and encouraged city residents to use shared bicycles in Bhubaneswar. The Orissa government has partnered with Yulu, Yaana Ventures and Hexi Capital to launch a total of 2,000 bicycles. The program is a public bicycle sharing last year in cities such as Mysore, Pune and Chandigarh.from from Part of the plan, which is dedicated to infrastructure construction, including the use of GPS docking and bicycle lanes. Several investors told Zhixiang.com that once the government’s encouragement slows down,from Infrastructure, cycling conditions, parking area and income modelfrom Will determine the fate of these startups. Amit has visited China many times in the past decade. He said that although many Chinese cities have dedicated bicycle lanes, bicycles are not a popular way of travel until the ono and Mobai. "In India, road conditions are a threat, but not a hindrance. There is no doubt that we certainly hope to have a sound infrastructure, but we do not want it to be an excuse for standing still, and the government will start after seeing actual demand. Improve the infrastructure," Amit said. Both Rakshak and Amit also said that they will continue to work with local government agencies to make the PBS system truly a seamless link to travel. " Local government agencies are actively asking us questions about user feedback, user base, etc. Although the penetration rate is already high, it has not yet reached the level expected by the company or the government. The government also wants to improve the infrastructure, but considering the bureaucratic delays in India The style is rampant, it still takes time," Rakshak said. This statement is true. The PBS project in Karnataka was named after the bicycle ringing "Trin Trin", but the shared bicycle service was postponed in Bangalore because the originally planned 125 km bicycle lane was put on hold due to funding problems. "I think that as a means of transportation, bicycles are not applicable over 500. It is ok in Bangalore, and its climate is the most pleasant in the country. But if it is like Mumbai or Delhi, it is either too cold or too hot. It's hard to ride for more than 15 minutes." Rahul Chowdhri of Stellaris Venture Partners told Zhixiang.com, therefore, Stellaris chose to invest in the shared scooter company Vogo. Vouncekananda, co-founder of Bounce, also expressed similar concerns. "In the end,from The situation may be different in different citiesfrom . But only time will tell how much we can do this business,from from We still believe that the market space for scooters will be even greater. " He says. In addition to cooperating with the local government to build a “smart city”, many shared bicycle companies also provide services in cities with more tourists such as Varanasi. Swinging profit model The failure of China to share bicycles, to a certain extent, has not been able to come up with a sufficiently profitable model because of the independently operated bicycle companies. Shared bicycles are a heavy asset business.from Yulu and Pedl each priced at 10,000 rupees per bicyclefrom from And 13,000from from rupee. Yulu has 10,000 bicyclesfrom from And Pedl has 15,000 cars. Damage to the bicycle is also a big problem. " Generally speaking, when we land in a new city, we will provide the old car first, so that even if it is destroyed, it will not lose too much money. This is a business strategy," Amit said. But this is still not enough to support a profitable model that is still working, and the founders are still groping. "The current challenge is that we can't borrow these assets as collateral. This is a capital-intensive business. If Pedl is seen as an independent business, then we may not be able to pay for it for a while. But we are a family. Multi-channel service companies, we want to promote our other businesses to users," Rakshak said. "We will then promote our other products, such as autonomous vehicles and Zap membership programs to Pedl users," Rakshak said. This is exactly the same as the intention of the US group to acquire Moby. Because of Mobei's huge offline traffic advantage, the US Mission does not hesitate to bear its losses, to drain to core business such as takeaways and hotels. According to the US IPO document, the deficit of the Mobike bicycle in April alone reached 480 million yuan. Can Indian startups take a different approach? Amit is full of confidence, he thinksfrom Advertising can be a stable source of incomefrom Related plans are already in full swing. "We intend to advertise at the same time in the bicycle, mobile software and parking areas," Amit said. He said Yulu is already negotiating with advertisers, and once the user base reaches a certain size, Yulu may start advertising in the next fiscal year. "The value of the last mile transportation solution is incalculable, and time will tell us how to make money." He added. Source: Titanium Media All articles on this site are shared by users. If you want to see more, please go to howlifes Read the full article

[hiraeth-doux]

Untouchable (3/8)

Summary: A fresh-out-of-the-NAVY widower Owen Grady knows everything about the war. His own child? Not so much. He settles in his home town with his 5-year-old daughter in hopes of piecing their shattered lives back together. And then they meet Claire Dearing…

Fun fact: this story was meant to be a one-shot to the prompt “Anon: My ex comes home to pick up his/her things and you came by after your shift at work and now my ex thinks you are my new girlfriend/boyfriend, so let’s play it cool” that I received a very long time ago. How it turned into what it is now I have no idea, but since the scene is coming up, I thought I’d mention it :) 

This part wasn’t due until next week, but it’s done so you can have it earlier. Thanks for all the love, guys! You have no idea how much it means to me ❤♡ Feedback is always much appreciated! 

AO3  |  Fanfiction.net

“You did what?” Owen gaped at Claire in disbelief, his jaw hanging open.

It was a Tuesday night in March, and a stormy one at that, with the wind howling outside and the snow lashing out angrily at the world, furious and enraged by the prospect of having to step back and give way to the spring soon. Harper was watching Sponge Bob in Claire’s living room, a box of crayons spilled in front of her on the carpet, after talking Owen into giving her ‘5 more minutes’ three times in a row.

It took them several weeks to settle into a new routine – if Owen was running late, Claire would give him something like 40 minutes during which she’d tidy up the place or teach Harper a move or two. The girl was a natural, throwing herself into the practice with abandon and chatting a mile a minute while doing so. She never shied away from an extra challenge, mesmerized by Claire’s majestic grace and the techniques she’d showed her in the past month or two.

Afterwards, if Owen still was not there, Claire would text him, gather Harper’s stuff and drive them both to her place. They’d eat, finish up on Harper’s homework if necessary and watch TV or play Go Fish, or she’d simply give the girl some paper and pencils to keep her entertained as they waited for Owen to come get her.

“We had grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner,” Claire repeated, if a little cautiously this time. “Is that a problem?”

Once they agreed on their arrangement, Owen provided her with the basic information and phone numbers – his, even though she already had it, his mother’s, his next door neighbor’s who was watching Harper now and then, as well as her school’s, just in case, assuring Claire that his daughter had no allergies, to his knowledge, or any other dietary restrictions. He asked her to maybe steer clear of anything age-inappropriate on TV and not allow Harper to play with her makeup (apparently his wife had a thing about that), but that was it.

In retrospect, maybe there were healthier food options for a five-year old other than buttery bread stuffed with cheese, Claire had to admit that much, but he was looking at her like she’d talked his kid into jumping off a bridge or… okay, she was fresh out of analogies here. He was freaking out, and it was freaking her out, even though she could not, for the life of her, see why.

Owen rubbed his cheek, the stubble scratching the palm of his hand that smelled faintly of gasoline even though he all but scrubbed his skin off an hour earlier, trying to wash it off. He craned his neck to peek at Harper across the hall, singing along with the into song, and then turned to Claire who was filling the dishwasher with cups and plates, her hair veiling her face every time she looked down. “It’s not a problem,” he said, dumbfounded, after a long pause. “It’s a miracle.”

She scoffed, relieved, and slammed the dishwater door closed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think you understand the definition--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he dropped his voice. “It’s been Cheerios for breakfast, PB&J sandwich for lunch, and goddamn pasta for dinner. Every. Single. Day. For months! I didn’t even know she was capable of eating anything else.”

Claire hummed and folded her arms over her chest. “Well, did you try giving her something else?” She asked, which earned her a tight-lipped grumble in the back on his throat and a dirty look. Hands raised in surrender, she shook her head. “You did.”

It was an odd dance they were doing, and half the time she felt like she didn’t know the steps.

In the month since she’d offered to let Harper play in her living room now and then, Owen was undeniably going out of his way to be at the Community Center on time to collect his daughter after the practice, barely ever a few minutes late. Like he didn’t trust Claire, although she could clearly see it wasn’t the case. More like he was trying to prove to her that he could, after all, easily juggle his two jobs, the school runs, and Harper’s extracurricular activities as if it was no big deal. Or maybe to prove it to himself, Claire couldn’t quite decide.

As a result, Harper only came over a handful of times, giddy and excited whenever it happened. It was obvious she craved interaction that went beyond the one she had with her classmates and her father. She adored Owen, that much was clear, but in the absence of a mother whose memory was still fresh in her mind, she latched onto Claire, her eyes sparkling alive every time she’d step onto the ice or get to chat with her for a few minutes and share a story or two about her school or going to Owen’s work or her neighbour’s poodle named Marcel. It was impossible not to get attached to her, and before she knew it was happening, Claire started to feel the claws of affection toward Harper Grady sink deep into her soul.

As for Owen, Claire’s relationship with him morphed into something akin a cautious friendship that consisted of bantering about nothing and walking on eggshells around everything else.

She told him about snagging an internship at Masrani Design after graduating from the Art School of the University of Wisconsin seven years ago, which eventually turned into a career, and explained that she started teaching a while back because it gave her unrestricted access to the rink at all times in-between. It terrified her at first, her inexperience in dealing with the children seeping out of every crack in her armour, but she grew to enjoy it, delighted by their energy and genuine eagerness to learn even when there was no reward waiting for them down the road.

Owen, in his turn, shared a few stories from his time in the NAVY, telling her about the training base in Japan where he got to try boiled locusts and whale meat, and about living in a tent for several months during an operation in the Middle East – he vowed to never underappreciate the indoor plumbing ever again. He answered her curious questions patiently, peppering his tales with hilarious anecdotes about the language barriers and the lack of proper navigation in the places that didn’t know what GPS was.

And in all this time, he hadn’t mentioned his dead wife once, which only made her looming presence so much more notable. Claire wondered sometimes if he could feel it as sharply as she did.

Yet, there was easiness to their conversations, the light jokes that somehow didn’t seem forced or overbearing. However, Claire chalked it up to the fact that he was simply grateful for her involvement with his daughter. Once, he even asked her to join them for a movie, but it was clearly nothing but a polite gesture, and obviously Harper’s idea, so she declined the invitation, offering him a quick excuse she forgot five minutes later, uncertain of whether she saw a flicker of relief or disappointment on his face and choosing not to overthink it.

“Owen Grady?” Karen stared at her for a solid minute when Claire mentioned their situation to her a couple of weeks ago when she came over for dinner. “The Owen Grady? My-shoulders-are-larger-than-life Owen Grady?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Maybe. His full name never came up.” She shrugged, feeling inexplicably defensive and oddly jealous of her nephews who were fighting over a video game in the living room instead of having to endure Karen’s speculative scrutiny. “And what was I supposed to do? Leave the little girl alone in the parking lot?”

“So you decided to adopt her?”

“Why are you complaining?” Claire countered. “ You are always on my case about having a child of my own.”

“I didn’t mean it like--” Karen cut herself off when she realized it was a joke. “Stop deflecting. I thought he was married.”

Claire flinched a little, feeling trapped and kicking herself mentally for bringing it up at all. “Well, not strictly speaking…”

Karen leveled her sister with her best unimpressed look. “You’re making no sense.”

“He lost his wife… ah, that would be about nine or ten months ago now, I think? Cancer.”

Karen’s face fell. “Oh, his poor kid.” She propped her chin on her hand, studying Claire across the table as the timer on the oven kept ticking the seconds away. “And then there’s you.”

“Yup, babysitting. You can bond a lot with people when you do a 12-year-old’s job for them,” Claire deadpanned. “It’s not like that, I swear. We’re just friends.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s--”

“Work ethics. Lots of it.”

“You’re no fun,” Karen sighed.

Clare flashed a bright smile at her. “I have you for that.”

It was easier that way, Claire decided in the end. It was easier to pretend she didn’t care rather than to admit that she wasn’t entirely unattaracted to a very emotionally unavailable man with a seriously messed up life and a baggage so heavy she wondered sometimes how he wasn’t crumbling under its weight with every step he took. Wondered how he kept on breathing without suffocating.

Owen was funny and charming, and he loved his daughter, and he also seemed to be as attainable as the moon. Jesus, the man had been looking right through her for as long as she’d known him. And so Claire pushed those thoughts away, shoved them into the darkest corner of her heart, locked the door, and threw away the key. There was no one else to know the truth but her, and she liked it that way.

“What’s your secret?” Owen asked meanwhile, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Hm?” Claire blinked at him.

He leaned against the cooking counter, watching her with a curious expression – like he was trying to read her mind. (The thought resonated with an unsettling tug in her stomach.) “You’ve done something I didn’t even think was possible, and I really wanna know how.” He picked up an apple from the bowl sitting next to his elbow and sank his teeth into it.

Claire grinned at him. “You never said that pasta was mandatory. I didn’t think to offer it.”

Her phone started to chirp at the same time as someone rang the doorbell, startling them both.

“Could you…” she began, her eyes darting toward the hallway as she reached for her mobile, and Owen nodded and peeled away from the counter. “Beware though, it might be my sister,” she called after him before pressing Accept. “Hi, Mr. Masrani… No, of course, not… I actually finished it and sent it for confirmation.” She rubbed her forehead, listening to Simon Masrani ramble on about his meeting with a potential corporate client scheduled for tomorrow and nodding occasionally even though he couldn’t see her.

“Claire?” Owen called from the hall a few moments later, and she quickly wrapped up the conversation, promising Mr. Masrani to double check everything first thing in the morning.

Jason Reed was standing by the door when she stepped out of the kitchen, sizing up Owen with one measured look after another. Tall and lanky, he seemed to be taking up whatever little space was left there after Owen Grady filled the rest of it, the air around them charged with tension that almost buzzed like electrical static. He turned to Claire – not with hostility exactly, but with a certain air of betrayal and disbelief, a deep frown creasing her forehead, which was odd, coming from someone she’d been broken up with for over four months.

“Jason?” Claire found her voice somehow, her stomach uncomfortably hollow. Then glanced at Owen who seemingly grew a foot taller in the presence of a stranger, his gaze heavy. Then remembered to introduce them. The men nodded to one another, but neither made an attempt to go for the handshake. If anything, both seemed to be tempted to reach for one another’s jugular, and if she could understand it in Jason, with Owen it made no sense whatsoever. “What are you doing here?” She asked at last, her chin tipped up and her arms folded over her chest.

Jason was a representative of one of Claire’s former clients about a year ago. One day, he stopped by to sign some papers and left with her phone number in his pocket. Their relationship was comfortable and convenient, if nothing else. No tides, no currents, just a smooth surface of a lake on a sunny day, undisturbed by the breeze. It wasn’t that they were comfortable in their silences – it was that they didn’t need anything else, and not in a good way. For her, it was a red flag. For Jason, for some reason, it seemed to be a sign of success.

He was so surprised when she offered to call it quits about six months later it would’ve been funny had the moment been slightly less dramatic. For all Claire knew, he still had no idea what pushed her to do it, harbouring a hope she’d come to her senses one of these days.

“You mentioned my stuff…” Jason started, and she jerked her head toward a plain cardboard box without any markings sitting under the hook rack, choosing not to comment on how she said it to him two months ago and he was lucky it was still here and not in the trash. “Right.” He picked up the box, then gave Owen another once-over. “Well, you seem to have moved on quickly, Claire.”

“Thanks for calling before stopping by,” she said flatly.

“I didn’t--” He began and cut himself off with a cough. “I didn’t expect to interrupt anything important.”

“Claire!” Harper burst out of the living room. “Come here! You have to see--” She skidded to an abrupt halt at the sight of a stranger, and Claire habitually reached for her, picking the girl up. Harper’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck as she peeked at Jason from under her hair that fell on her face, her small body tense.

“In a minute, honey,” Claire promised.

With a snicker, Jason pulled the door open without so much as a goodbye, allowing the cold air mixed with a handful of snow to rush into the house, and then slammed in with a loud bang behind him. And Claire finally remembered to exhale, her ears ringing for a second or two.

“Who was that?” Harper whispered, her fingers tangled in Claire’s hair.

“No one,” Claire turned to her, a smile in place. “Just an old friend. So, you were saying….”

The girl looked at Owen whose eyes were still locked on the door, his hands flexing ever so slightly, curling into fists and then uncurling and then tightening again, although it was impossible to tell if he knew he was doing it or not.

“Daddy, did you tell her?” She demanded.

“Tell me what?” Claire eyes shifted from the one to another.

“Oh.” Owen pressed a palm to his forehead. “Of course.” The line of his shoulders relaxed at last, the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out, and a tight set of his lips curved into a one-sided grin. “Ms. Dearing, you’re hereby officially invited to--”

“My birthday party!” Harper finished for him with excitement, her eyes sparkling. “Next Saturday!”

“I am? Really?” Claire felt her smile stretch wider as something warm blossomed in her stomach spreading all over her body like honey melting in the sun. “I’d be a fool to say no.” When Harper ran back off to her cartoons, she straightened up and turned to Owen. “I’m sorry... for this—I had no idea he was going to show up like this.”

“I gathered that much,” Owen said. “Everything okay with you and…” His gaze flickered toward the door, the territorial look on the other man’s face seared into his memory, flaring up something dark and scary and hot inside him, making his blood boil.

“Yeah, it is, actually. Which, I think, is the problem.” Claire pinched the bridge of her nose with a huff of frustration. “Jason and I, we ended our whatever on rather good terms and apparently he decided that it was still salvageable.”

“Is it?”

She dropped her hand to her side to find Owen standing closer to her than she anticipated, his blue eyes pensive and clear, and more than a little troubled. She didn’t even need to try hard to convince herself that there was more to it than idle curiosity to his gaze. And there it was again, a nervous flurry in her chest that was growing progressively harder to ignore.

“No. God, no!” She let out a short, unsteady laugh, shaking her head. “Look, Owen, I shouldn’t have allowed him to think that you and I… That we--” There was no way to make this not sound awkward, and now that the whole incident was over, she could feel her cheeks grow hot, making her wish the floor would open beneath her feet and swallow her whole. Jesus Christ... “I’m sorry for dragging you into my personal issues. I crossed the line and it was unacceptable.”

“Nah, glad I could help,” Owen told her easily and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his sweater stretching over his chest, damn you, Karen! “Also… you don’t have to do the birthday thing if you don’t want to, Claire, or if you have other plans. I swear it’s fine.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her mouth dropped open in mock-indignation. “Six-year olds get the best cakes!”

---

Claire started swimming after her first surgery. It was meant to be a part of her physical therapy aimed at bringing the life back into her sore muscles and weak joints after several months of being practically bedridden. Her doctor kept going on and on and on about building up her strength through low-impact exercises to speed up the recovery.

At the time, it didn’t matter. At the time, Claire didn’t care. Her life was falling apart before her eyes, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t see any future beyond tomorrow. One day after another was all she had. Anything else was either frightening, or downright dreadful.

Claire succumbed, though, more for the sake of getting everyone off her back than anything else, and before long, the pool became her new escape. She loved the velvety touch of the water to her skin, loved feeling that for an hour a day she was more than a broken doll or one grim prognosis after another. It was only in the water that the pain disappeared. Before she could walk without help again, before she could even dream about the ice, she found a way to move without constrains, to feel at home in her own body again.

By the time her physical therapy came to an end, Claire was addicted to swimming. Her therapist explained to her once that people tended to be drawn to the water because it was the most natural environment for them. It was the first memory human bodies had. It meant safety. It meant peace.

Claire liked that theory. If she closed her eyes and allowed the gravity to take her, sinking below the surface, she could never tell where up or down was. It made her think of being in outer space, suspended in zero gravity, floating weightless in a place where the sounds were muffled and world didn’t look as sharp.

She pushed away from the board and took a perfect dive, slicing through the water in a wide arc despite the protest of her muscles, allowing it to envelop her body and push all thoughts out of her mind. She surged forward, kicking furiously with her feet and propelling herself straight ahead in the sea of air bubbles that clung to her arms and tickled her back. Her toes brushed against the tiled bottom before she angled her movement up and toward the surface again, breaking out with a gasp.

After ten laps, with her muscles burning and her lungs screaming for a proper inhale, she drifted off to the middle of the pool and flipped onto her back, her chest still heaving but the rest of her body pleasantly limp. It was still early, and if the place had a glass roof, she’d be able to see the stars.

She closed he eyes, marveling at the contrast between the cool touch of the water and her heated skin, waiting for her heartbeat to get back to normal and hoping her inner turmoil would sort itself out as well in the process. The uncomfortable tug in her knee started to melt away. Last night, she forgot that she was not a real girl anymore and threw herself recklessly into the one thing that made her feel grounded and in control until every inch of the ice beneath the blades of her skates was scarred and dented and she could no longer feel her legs.

Well, she was paying dearly for it today. And for what? It didn’t change anything. It didn’t help her regain her balance. If anything, pushing her limits only made everything worse because she kept looking at the goddamned door, waiting for it to open, but it never did.

It had been a while since she felt this fragmented, this scattered and all over the place, and it was making her antsy and restless, like she was about to jump out of her own skin.

If she tried hard enough, Claire could almost pretend it was about the new project she picked up at work, or the winter that was feeling particularly endless this year, and be done with it. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend it was not at all about the territorial glint in Owen’s eyes on the night when Jason showed up at her place unannounced – the one that probably wasn’t there because it couldn’t be there - that stirred something inside her. Something she didn’t know how to put into words for ethical, moral, and logical reasons. And the worst thing was that it wasn’t even the possibility of it that bothered her, but how much she wanted it to be real, and quite frankly, she had no idea how to feel about it.

She didn’t even know his middle name.

Claire stayed afloat until she cooled down enough for her teeth to start chattering and her body to grow heavy as a stone, and for a brief moment she even panicked, worried that she would sink right to the bottom and never find it in her to come to the surface again…

She thought she’d be the first one in the office when she stepped out of the elevator half an hour later, her damp hair gathered into a sloppy twist, threatening her with an imminent pneumonia. Instead, she spotted Lowery messing with the coffee machine in their tiny kitchen at the end of the hallway while he hummed something under his breath.

He was not bald, like Karen stated, but his hairline was receding and the thick-rimmed glasses added another layer to his already established geekiness. He was wearing a superhero t-shirt today – Claire didn’t recognize the characters but didn’t dare ask because the last time she made that mistake, he dumper roughly 50-years’ worth of history on her and she still hadn’t recovered – that made her own stretched-out vintage sweater look rather sophisticated. Mr. Masrani was right not to push any dress code on them, she mused. They would wilt and die if he did.

Lowery noticed her out of the corner of his eye and looked up, giving Claire a small wave. She nodded her hello.

“What are you doing here so early?”

He emptied at least five packets of sugar into his black coffee and stirred them with enough enthusiasm to create a mini vortex in the cup. “Just finishing some updates,” he shrugged with disinterest, then picked up his drink and followed Claire to her office. “Hey, Claire, some of us are going out for drinks tomorrow night. Wanna come?”

She set her bag onto her desk and shrugged out of her coat, leaving it draped over the back of her chair, then booted up her computer before crossing the room to open the blinds and let the first rays of the morning sun in, allowing them to paint the walls in yellow stripes. “Can’t, sorry.” She shook her head absently and pulled off the hair-tie, ruffling her hair with her fingers. “I have plans.”

Lowery’s eyebrows perked up over the rims of his glasses. “Do tell.”

Claire ignored his curious look and the hunger for gossip in his eyes. They wee starved here, she knew it. Ever since Zara, a junior designer, dumped her boyfriend three weeks ago, there was nothing to talk about near the water cooler, but she was not going to save them at her expense. Instead, she leaned against her desk, making a mental note to de-clutter it and regarded Lowery thoughtfully.

“What would you give to a six-year old girl for her birthday?” She asked him and tilted her head to her shoulder, tapping her fingers on a stack of papers.

The question was more rhetorical than anything else. Still, Lowery took a gulp of his coffee and scrunched his face in concentration. “A Barbie?” He offered uncertainly.

Claire sighed.

This was not helpful.

---

If Owen knew that a handful of first- and second-graders could cause so much ruckus, he would probably pay more attention to buying earplugs instead looking for a perfect set of Disney-themed paper plates.

After having to reject the Space and Underwater Kingdom party ideas, for obvious reasons, and also because Owen knew there was no way he could pull them off on such a short notice, they finally settled on the Rainbow theme, which was a blessing, as far as he was concerned. Basically, everything had to be rainbow-colored – balloons and paper lanterns, banners, candles on the cake, party hats. Even Harper’s overalls and leggings sported every colour of the spectrum. Granted, all of the parents in attendance were about to drop dead from this visual assault, but the kids found it delightful.

His mother helped him decorate the living room this morning while Harper was still asleep, allowing Owen to have a quick run to the bakery to pick up the cake he ordered a week ago – rainbow-layered, of course – and a handful of cupcakes so rich in food colouring he wondered if it was safer to gorge on a Chemistry Set instead.

This was so not how Jenny would have handled any of this, he thought as he fingers moved swiftly to tie the last of the balloons in the hallway and give everything a cursory look before the guests arrived. Jenny would have planned this in advance and probably thought of healthy snack alternatives, too. She would’ve made the Space theme possible. She wouldn’t have forgotten about Harper’s birthday until two weeks ago when the girl casually reminded Owen about it, stressing the importance of inviting her friends. And Barry. And Claire.

He was ecstatic beyond himself that she wanted it at all – after the months of barely leaving her room, let alone the house, his kid wanted to socialize. With people. It was going to happen even if he had to tear the world apart and put it back together.

Except it was a goddamn nightmare and now Owen feared they might have to move after the party was over because there was no fucking way he would ever clean this place up and make it acceptable for living again. But Harper’s smile was worth it, a million times over, even if the noise was giving him a raging headache.

“You’re so lucky she didn’t ask for karaoke,” a father of one of the kids told him. Owen was. He really and truly was.

And they still were hours away from the cake part, which his mother told him usually signified the end of the event.

He was on the way to the bathroom to find a bottle of aspirin when someone rang the doorbell, and when Owen pulled it open, his first thought was – Here it is, I’ve finally lost it. Filling the whole doorway was a huge grey teddy bear, the one from cheesy greeting cards. And sure enough, it had a greeting card of its own sticking from under a giant pink bow tied around its neck.

“Man, is that you?” Owen heard Barry’s muffled voice, and when he opened the door wider, the latter nearly fell into the hallway, having a hard time walking with the stuffed toy the size of a truck in his arms.

“Please tell me there’s booze in there,” Owen muttered, eyeing yet another present with a mixture of awe and disbelief – who on earth decided that the toys twice bigger than kids were a good idea? They might need to build a separate room for it – it sure as hell was not going to fit in Harper’s.

“That fun, huh?” Barry smirked.

“You have no idea,” Owen breathed out. The parents tried to be engaged, but after an hour or so, most of them started to look mildly shell-shocked from the noise, probably happy beyond themselves none of this was actually their concern. There was nothing Owen wanted more than to join them on the back porch, screw the cold. “Hey, Harper!” He called out instead, and the girl snapped her head up, her curls bouncing up and down her back. “Look who’s here!”

Barry waved at her with a dazzling smile plastered on his face and she waved wildly back before going back to… whatever it was they were all doing there that, surprisingly, didn’t involve shrieking or demolishing the house.

“This isn’t so bad,” Barry told him meanwhile, swiping the living room with a wide glance as he pulled off his jacket.

Earlier, Owen pushed most of the furniture to the walls to clear the space for Harper and her seven guests to play. There were snacks and an assortment of beverages of every color he could find on the table by the window, half-consumed by now, as well as a stack of all possible board games and drawing supplies he could think of to pull out of Harper’s room, feverishly trying to remember if this always was such a hassle. Last year, Jenny was already sick, mere weeks away from her final trip to the hospital from which she never returned back home, so they had a quieter celebration, just the three of them, and before that… well, Owen couldn’t remember it ever being this much.

A week ago, he hoped the weather would break at last, allowing him to kick the whole crowd into the backyard for a while. Instead, the storm that had hit them a few days ago effectively messed up that plan, and he suspected that doing so now would be a complete disaster, and maybe he didn’t need them all to get sopping wet after a snowball fight or something of that kind.

“Wait till the sugar kicks in,” he told Barry while his friend set the bear in the corner in the hallway, propping it against the staircase.

And then he nudged Owen in the ribs and jerked his chin toward a small gathering by the couch. “Who’s that?”

Sitting cross-legged on the floor among the congregation of kids was Claire. She had an open bag of mini-marshmallows in front of her and a pack of toothpicks, and right now she was showing them all how to build things, connecting marshmallow to one another with said toothpicks. To him, it all mostly looked like elaborate molecule models that resembled the stuff one would find in a chemistry book, but whatever it really was they were doing, they all seemed to be finding it fascinating.

Her hair was tied loosely at the nape of her neck, a few strands brushing against her cheeks. And Owen had to make a physical effort to remind himself not to smile at the sight of her, patiently playing with his daughter and the other children, her bright red lips moving as she explained something or another to them, her voice too soft for him to catch what she was saying, but everyone seemed enthralled, and he couldn’t blame them.

“That’s Harper’s ice-skating instructor,” he responded with a nonchalant shrug, folding his arms over her chest. “I told ya, remember? My kid invited her to come.”

“That is her instructor?” Barry’s jaw hit the floor, and he smacked Owen on the arm with the back of his hand. “Man... Wait, is that…” His eyes narrowed. “Is she…?”

Owen chuckled. “Yup. The one and only.”

Another smack on the arm. “Man!” Barry shook his head.

Owen’s phone let out a high-pitched shrill, a familiar caller ID blinking on the screen. “Harper,” he called out again. “Come talk to Grandma Sylvia.”

The girl leaped up from the floor and ran over to him, taking the phone from his hand and going to sit on the stairs to chat with Jenny’s mother who lived in Michigan, dumping everything on her in one endless sentence that didn’t require breathing – from the bright party hats and a seven-tier cake to the list of presents she received.

Claire rose to her feet as well. She brushed her palms to her grey slacks, smoothing out the creases, and then, after promising the adoring crowd to come back soon, she picked up an empty lemonade pitcher to refill it, carefully navigating her way across the minefield of discarded pieces of LEGO and colouring supplies.

“Oh, hey,” she smiled at Owen when she saw him hovering in the doorway with a mildly panicked expression on his face, the same one that prompted her to take charge of the entertainment twenty minutes after she walked through the door and found him in a state close to shock. “We’re good, really,” she promised him and patted him on the shoulder. “A couple more hours, and they’ll be too tired to cause any trouble.”

“You don’t have to do it,” he told her quietly.

“I know. But it’s fun. We’re building a tower.” And then her gaze shifted past his shoulder and fixed on Barry. “Hi.”

“Oh, right.” Owen introduced them quickly.

“Madame.” Barry took her hand and brushed his lips to her knuckles.

“Enchantée,” Claire replied, practically curtsying.

He arched his eyebrows. “Vous etes vraiment magnifique.”

“Show off,” Owen muttered, glaring at his friend as Claire squeezed past them with a giggle, heading for the kitchen. “The hell did you say to her?”

“None of your business,” Barry snorted good-naturedly, and then turned to him. “I can’t believe your daughter has a real-life Barbie.” His eyes widened and his voice dropped. “You and her… right?” He hissed, pointing over his shoulder. “Please tell me that you and her--”

Owen waved him off. “What? No, dude! Jesus, she’s… I don’t know, a friend. It’s not like that.”

Harper skipped over to them and tucked Owen’s phone into the back pocket of his jeans before giving Barry a quick hug and running over to her guests, and Barry dropped his hands on Owen’s shoulders, giving him a little shake. “Owen, my friend, you’re crazy. Do something about it.”

---

It was only in the late afternoon after the cake had been eaten, the presents opened, and everyone except Owen’s mother headed home that he found Claire in the kitchen, pulling the cling wrap over the leftovers to put them in the fridge.

“Hey, there you are.” He offered her a tired smile, feeling the weight lift off his shoulders, struck by how comforting her presence in his house felt. “Honestly, Claire, you don’t have to bother with any of this,” he gestured around with a wide swipe of his hand, already mentally prepared for the long night of cleaning the house.

She scoffed. “This is where you say thank you and let me finish.”

“Thank you.” He ran a weary hand down his face and leaned against the sink. “Was it obvious I’ve never done this before?”

“I thought you’d be hiding in a coat closet by the end of the first hour,” she admitted and stuffed a plate of cupcakes into the fridge. A Tupperware container filled with mini sausage rolls followed suit.

“Damn, I didn’t know it was an option.” He rubbed his eyes, honestly wishing he’d thought of it sooner. “How’d you know about this kind of stuff?”

“Two nephews,” she shuddered dramatically and moved to stand next to him. “And trust me, it’s worse with the boys – they want to set everything on fire.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Owen hummed dryly.

“Don’t worry,” her eyes softened, “you’ll get a hang of it. Probably by the time she’d rather die than have you anywhere near her friends, but still.”

His laughter morphed into a desperate groan and he buried his face in his hands. “Wonderful.”

Claire elbowed him lightly in the arm. “You did great. Harper loved it. The cake, the balloons, everything.” The worry lines in the corners of his eyes smoothed out. “Your mom is very nice,” she added nonchalantly, watching him squirm a little.

That was a very polite understatement, and he was painfully aware of the fact that Claire knew it.

Colleen Grady was a groupie. If he knew how comically his mother’s eyes would pop out when she found out that ‘a friend’ he mentioned was not only a woman, but a local celebrity of sorts, he’d have a camera close at hand, if only because he knew for a fact that he would never surprise her like this again even if he spent the rest of his life trying. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so embarrassing. He should have warned Claire, or his mother, or both of them. There was no way he was going to live it down.

“Whatever she said to you… it’s not true,” he told her solemnly, struggling not to laugh.

Claire’s eyebrow quirked curiously. “Even the good stuff?”

“Especially the good stuff.”

“Daddy,” Harper appeared in the kitchen and scrambled up onto the barstool near the counter. “Look what Grandma gave me!” She thrust her hand at him, rolling her wrist to show him a silver charm bracelet with a few charms on it, glinting in the light of an overhead lamp. “Isn’t it the prettiest?”

“It sure is!” He confirmed.

“And Claire didn’t bring me anything.” She turned expectantly to Claire.

“I didn’t?” Claire pressed her hand to her chest, appalled.

Harper shook her head vigorously. “I checked twice!”

“Well, it’s because my present is a surprise.” Claire told her, leaning closer to the girl over the counter as her voice dropped conspiratorially.

Harper’s face lit up and she also leaned forward. “What kind of surprise?”

“Your dad told me that you asked for a pony--”

“Please tell me there’s no horse in my backyard,” Owen muttered with unmasked terror in his voice. “Please tell me there’s no--”

“There is no horse in your backyard,” Claire told him and shook her head before turning back to his daughter. “But I would love to take you,” she tapped the girl on the nose with her finger, “to the stables tomorrow and you could ride one as much as you want.” And then added, “If that’s okay with your father, of course.”

They both turned to Owen.

“Daddy, please, can we go? Please, please, please?” Harper pleaded, practically holding her breath.

He looked between her and Claire for a long moment, putting an almost inhuman effort into keeping a straight face. “Can I come with?”

Harper shrieked and pressed her hands to her mouth before sliding off the stool and taking off on, “I gotta tell Grandma!”

“What?” Claire asked, straightening up when she saw him watch her like she’d just fell out of the sky and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re scaring me now. Should I have asked first?” Her brows knitted together in concern, slight worry creeping into her voice. “I should’ve asked, haven’t I? I’m sorry, Owen, I just really wanted it to be a surprise--”

“No, no!” He stopped her. “It’s, ah…” Owen let out a long breath, and ruffled his hair with his hand, not sure how to put into words the magnitude of her gesture. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for Harper, or me. Or both of us, combined.”

She relaxed minutely. “It’s nothing, I assure you. I know someone…”

“Yes, it is, Claire.” His voice lowered to a low, velvet husk that caused the goosebumps to spring along her skin. “It is.”

She wanted to say something deep and profound, or better yet – laugh it off altogether, self-conscious under his gaze. Except his face was suddenly very close to hers, and she could smell chocolate cupcake on him and his cologne and man, and the world shrunk to the size of this kitchen. She heard him swallow, her own senses sharpened and amplified, and for a moment, Claire couldn’t hear anything past the blood rush in her ears.

Owen’s gaze dropped to her lips, and she tilted her face up—

Something fell and shattered in the living room, startling them. A concerned and then reassuring murmur followed, the voices low and the words indistinguishable. Claire turned away, causing Owen’s mouth to brush briefly against hers, a feather-light touch that left her lips tingling with an electric undercurrent coursing beneath her skin.

“I should… go,” she stepped away from him, jittery from a jolt of adrenaline.

“Yeah, and I should… check what they broke there,” Owen nodded numbly and cleared his throat. “Claire….” Say something. Something smart. Or funny. Anything. Say anything. “Thanks for coming.”

She nodded, too, and picked up her purse from the counter. “Thanks for the cake. And, Owen?” She paused, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. “About tomorrow…” His heart plummeted into his stomach. “You’re driving.”

---

Later that night, after he drove his mother home, almost successfully managing to avoid her questions, and loaded dishes into the dishwasher, after he removed party banners from the walls, took out the garbage, and returned the living-room furniture where it belong, after he helped Harper haul her presents into her room and then tucked his daughter into bed, the excitement of the day finally catching up with her, Owen collapsed onto the couch and finally allowed himself to breathe out a sigh of relief.

This day was officially over, and he was so drained his brain hurt. 

There was a wedding photo of him and Jenny sitting on the dresser in the bedroom, and he couldn’t bring himself to step into the room. Normally, seeing it a few times a day felt like a relief, if a bittersweet one. Like it was a testament to her presence in his life. But after what happened between him and Claire earlier, he couldn’t bear the idea of facing it, his thoughts a jumbled mess he wasn’t sure how to deal with, or even where to start.

He almost kissed another woman today. The woman who loved his daughter. The one whose smile was like magic. The one he knew he would have kissed if they weren’t interrupted.

The one who wasn’t his wife.

Owen let out a long breath and ran his palm over his jaw, his stubble catching on his wedding ring and giving him a start, and all of a sudden, it felt too tight on his hand, squeezing the life out of him. He twisted it around his finger, and the sensation was gone.

“So,” he dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling lined with shadows from the reading lamp in the corner, “now what?”

To be continued... 

PS Head-canons are welcome! 

[insession-io]

The “Marshmallow Test” Said Patience Was Key To Success

The famous psychology test gets roasted in the new era of replication.

Here’s some good news: Your fate cannot be determined solely by a test of your ability at age 5 to resist the temptation of one marshmallow for 15 minutes to get two marshmallows.

This relieving bit of insight comes to us from a paper published recently in the journal Psychological Science that revisited one of the most famous studies in social science, known as “the marshmallow test.”

The idea behind the new paper was to see if research from the late 1980s and early ’90s showing that a simple delay of gratification (eating a marshmallow) at ages 4 through 6 could predict future achievement in school and life could be replicated.

What the researchers found: Delaying gratification at age 5 doesn’t say much about your future. Rather, there are more important — and frustratingly stubborn — forces at work that push or pull us from our greatest potential.

The marshmallow test story is important. The original studies inspired a surge in research into how character traits could influence educational outcomes (think grit and growth mindset). They also influenced schools to teach delaying gratification as part of “character education” programs.

It’s also a story about psychology’s “replication crisis,” in which classic findings are being reevaluated (and often failing) under more rigorous methodology. It teaches a lesson on a frustrating truth that pervades much of educational achievement research: There is not a quick fix, no single lever to pull to close achievement gaps in America. Trendy pop psychology ideas often fail to grapple with the bigger problems keeping achievement gaps wide open.

“People are desperately searching for an easy, quick, apparently effective answer for how we can transform the lives of people who are under distress,” Brent Roberts, a personality psychologist who edited the new Psychological Science paper, says. “And what’s more frustrating than anything else is that another feature of human nature is that we get fooled by overemphasizing the quick and easy answers to the more complex ones.”

The marshmallow test, explained How often as child were you told to sit still and wait? As a kid, being told to sit quietly while your parent is off talking to an adult, or told to turn off the TV for just a few seconds, or to hold off on eating those cupcakes before the guests arrive are some of the hardest challenges in a young life. A huge part of growing up is learning how to delay gratification, to sit patiently in the hope that our reward will be worth it.

Plotting the how, when, and why children develop this essential skill was the original goal of the famous “marshmallow test” study. Pioneered by psychologist Walter Mischel at Stanford in the 1970s, the marshmallow test presented a lab-controlled version of what parents tell young kids to do every day: sit and wait.

In the test, a marshmallow (or some other desirable treat) was placed in front of a child, and the child was told they could get a second treat if they just resisted temptation for 15 minutes. If they succumbed to the devilish pull of sugar, they only got the one. Here’s a video showing how it’s typically administered.

The test was a tool to chart the development of a young mind and to see how kids use their cognitive tools to conquer a tough willpower challenge.

Mischel learned that the subjects who performed the best often used creative strategies to avoid temptation (like imagining the marshmallow isn’t there). Follow-up work showed that kids could learn to wait longer for their treat. And further research revealed that circumstances matter: If a kid is led to mistrust the experimenter, they’ll grab the treat earlier.

But that work isn’t what rocketed the “marshmallow test” to become one of the most famous psychological tests of all time. It was the follow-up work, in the late ’80s and early ’90s, that found a stunning correlation: The longer kids were able to hold off on eating a marshmallow, the more likely they were to have higher SAT scores and fewer behavioral problems, the researchers said. The results were taken to mean that if only we could teach kids to be more patient, to have greater self-control, perhaps they’d achieve these benefits as well.

But the studies from the ’90s were small, and the subjects were the kids of educated, wealthy parents.

In fairness to Mischel and his colleagues, their findings, as written in 1990, were not so sweeping. In the study linking delay of gratification to SAT scores, the researchers acknowledged the possibility that with a bigger sample size, the magnitude of their correlation could decrease. They also mentioned that the stability of the home environment may play a more important role than their test was designed to reveal. It also wasn’t an experiment. The results also didn’t necessarily mean that teaching kids to delay their gratification would cause these benefits later on.

“The findings of that study were never intended to be prescriptions for an application,” Yuichi Shoda, a co-author on the 1990 paper linking delay of gratification to SAT scores, says in an email. “Our paper does not mention anything about interventions or policies.” And they readily admit that the delay task is the result of a whole host of factors in a child’s life. “‘Controlling out’ those variables, which contribute to the diagnostic value of the delay measure, would be expected to reduce their correlations,” Mischel, who says he welcomes the new paper, writes. In an interview with PBS in 2015, he said “the idea that your child is doomed if she chooses not to wait for her marshmallows is really a serious misinterpretation.”

Yet their findings have been interpreted to be a prescription by school districts and policy wonks. “If you’re a policy maker and you are not talking about core psychological traits like delayed gratification skills, then you’re just dancing around with proxy issues,” the New York Times’s David Brooks wrote in 2006. It’s not hard to find studies on interventions to increase delaying gratification in schools or examples of schools adopting these lessons into their curricula. Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster has even been used to teach the lesson.

How the new study changes the story Over the years, the marshmallow test papers have received a lot of criticism. The biggest one is that delay of gratification might be primarily a middle- and upper-class value. Does it make sense for a child growing up in poverty to delay their gratification when they’re so used to instability in their lives? Also, there’s the case that some kids are just less interested in candy and treats than others.

It’s been nearly 30 years since the show-stopping marshmallow test papers came out. And what’s astounding is that it’s only now that researchers have bothered to replicate the long-term findings in a new data set. That’s more of an indictment of the incentives and practices of psychological science — namely, favoring flashy new findings over replicating old work — than of flaws in the original work. (Though, be assured, psychology is in the midst of a reform movement.)

Tyler Watts, the NYU psychology professor who is the lead author on the new replication paper, got lucky. He and his colleagues found that in the 1990s, a large NIH study gave a version of the test to nearly 1,000 children at age 4, and the study collected a host of data on the subjects’ behavior and intelligence through their teenage years. But no one had used this data to try to replicate the earlier marshmallow studies.

The new paper isn’t an exact replication of the original. The marshmallow test in the NIH data was capped at seven minutes, whereas the original study had kids wait for a max of 15. Nevertheless, it should test the same underlying concept.

And there are some other key differences. The original studies in the 1960s and ’70s recruited subjects from Stanford’s on-campus nursery school, and many of the kids were children of Stanford students or professors. That’s not exactly a representative bunch. The new study included 10 times as many subjects compared the old papers and focused on children whose mothers who did not attend college.

Here’s what they found, and the nuance is important.

While successes at the marshmallow test at age 4 did predict achievement at age 15, the size of the correlation was half that of the original paper. And the correlation almost vanished when Watts and his colleagues controlled for factors like family background and intelligence.

That means “if you have two kids who have the same background environment, they get the same kind of parenting, they are the same ethnicity, same gender, they have a similar home environment, they have similar early cognitive ability,” Watts says. “Then if one of them is able to delay gratification, and the other one isn’t, does that matter? Our study says, ‘Eh, probably not.’”

In other words: Delay of gratification is not a unique lever to pull to positively influence other aspects of a person’s life. It’s a consequence of bigger-picture, harder-to-change components of a person, like their intelligence and environment they live in.

The results imply that if you can teach a kid to delay gratification, it won’t necessarily lead to benefits later on. Their background characteristics have already put them on that path.

What’s more, the study found no correlation — even without controls — between delaying gratification and behavioral outcomes later in life. “In that sense, that’s the one piece of the paper that’s really a failure to replicate,” Watts says.

His paper also found something that they still can’t make sense of. Most of the predictive power of the marshmallow test can be accounted for kids just making it 20 seconds before they decide to eat the treat. “So being able to wait for two minutes, five minutes, or seven minutes, the max, it didn’t really have any additional benefits over being able to wait for 20 seconds.”

That makes it hard to imagine the kids are engaging in some sort of complex cognitive trick to stay patient, and that the test is revealing something deep and lasting about their potential in life. And perhaps it’s an indication that the marshmallow experiment is not a great test of delay of gratification or some other underlying measure of self-control.

Their study doesn’t completely reverse the finding of the original marshmallow paper. But it reduces the findings to a point where it’s right to wonder if they have any practical meaning.

It’s also worth mentioning that research on self-control as a whole is going through a reevaluation. Namely, that the idea people have self-control because they’re good at willpower (i.e., effortful restraint) is looking more and more like a myth. People who say they are good at self-control are often people who live in environments with fewer temptations. Similarly, the idea that willpower is finite — known in the academic literature as ego depletion — has also failed in more rigorous recent testing. Overall, we know less about the benefits of restraint and delaying gratification than the academic literature has let on.

Educational interventions often fail

Education research often calls traits like delaying gratification “noncognitive” factors. These are personal traits not related to intelligence that many researchers believe can be molded to enhance outcomes. The marshmallow test is the foundational study in this work. And today, you can see its influence in ideas like growth mindset and grit, which are also popular psychology ideas that have influenced school curricula (namely in the guise of “character education” programs.)

Growth mindset is the idea that if students believe their intelligence is malleable, they’ll be more likely to achieve greater success for themselves. A lot of research and money has gone into teaching this mindset to kids, in the hope that it can be an intervention to decrease achievement gaps in America.

The state of the evidence on this idea is frustrating. Recently, a huge meta-analysis on 365,915 subjects revealed a tiny positive correlation between growth mindset educational achievement (in science speak, the correlation was .10 — with 0 meaning no correlation and 1 meaning a perfect correlation).

“That’s inconsequentially small,” Roberts says. Interventions to increase mindset were also shown to work, but limply. The average effect size (meaning the average difference between the experimental and control groups) was just .08 standard deviations. That’s barely a nudge. (If you click here you can visualize what an effect size that small looks like.) It’s hard to know if the time and money that goes into growth mindset interventions is worth it.

There’s less comprehensive data on grit, an idea popularized by University of Pennsylvania psychologist Angela Duckworth. Grit, a measure of perseverance (which critics charge is very similar to the established personality trait of conscientiousness), is correlated with some measures of achievement. But the long-term work on whether grit can be taught, and whether teaching it can lead to academic improvements, is still lacking.

Also consider that these studies take place over a short period of time. Researchers find that interventions to increase school performance — even intensive ones like early preschool programs — often show a strong fadeout: that initially, interventions show strong results, but then over the course of a few years, the effects disappear. “Most interventions targeting children’s cognitive, social or emotional development fail to follow their subjects beyond the end of their programs,” a 2018 literature review finds. “When they do, complete fadeout is common.”

What’s more important: teaching patience or reducing income inequality? It’s not that these noncognitive factors are unimportant. No one doubts delaying gratification is an important life skill, and one that squirmy kids need to master. And it’s obviously nice if kids believe in the possibility of their own growth.

What the latest marshmallow test paper shows is that home life and intelligence are very important for determining both delaying gratification and later achievement. These are factors that are constantly influencing a child.

Their influence may be growing in an increasingly unequal society. As income inequality has increased in America, so have achievement gaps. Today, the largest achievement gaps in education are not between white Americans and minorities, but between the rich and poor. Research from Stanford economist Sean Reardon finds that the school achievement gap between the richest and poorest Americans is twice the size of the achievement gap between black and white Americans and has been growing for decades.

Reducing poverty could go a long way to improving the educational attainment and well-being of kids. “It’s very hard to find psychological effects that are not explained by the socioeconomic status of families,” says Pamela Davis-Kean, a developmental psychologist at the University of Michigan. Nothing changes a kid’s environment like money.

Money buys good food, quiet neighborhoods, safe homes, less stressed and healthier parents, books, and time to spend with children. Teaching kids how to delay gratification or have patience “may not be the primary thing that’s going to change their situation,” Davis-Kean says.

Economic security possibly can. Greg Duncan, a UC Irvine economist and co-author of the new marshmallow paper, has been thinking about the question of which educational interventions actually work for decades. And, he says, “I’m not exactly sure I’m further along than I was 30 years ago.”

So he’s trying to find out what happens when a kid’s home environment is dramatically altered. Duncan is currently running an experiment asking whether giving a mother $333 a month for the first 40 months of her baby’s life aids the child’s cognitive development. If successful, the study could clarify the power reducing poverty has on educational attainment.

Reducing income inequality is a more daunting task than teaching kids patience. Increasing IQ is a more daunting task than teaching kids patience (though, helpfully, the research finds each year of schooling a person receives leads to a small boost in IQ). But if a simple, widely effective intervention for educational attainment exists, social scientists have yet to find it.

Even interventions to boost kids’ understanding of academic skills like math often yield lackluster findings. In other work, Watts and Duncan have found that mathematics ability in preschool strongly predicts math ability at age 15. From that work, you’d think that by boosting math ability in preschool, you’d put kids on a surer course. But yet, programs aimed at increasing math ability in preschool don’t work as powerfully as the correlation studies imply they should and show a strong fadeout effect.

Watts says his new marshmallow test study doesn’t mean it’s impossible to design preschool interventions that have long-lasting effects. Or that “delay of gratification can’t or couldn’t be a piece of that,” he says.

But if the recent history of social science has taught us anything, it’s that experiments that find quick, easy, and optimistic findings about improving people’s lives tend to fail under scrutiny. Harder work remains. Studies that find exciting correlations need to be followed up with long-term experimental research. This research is expensive and hard to conduct. But without rigorous studies, we’re going to remain prone to research hype.

“Our ability to test some of the things that we think are really fundamental has never been greater,” Watts says. “We have a unique opportunity now to go back to some of the findings we take for granted and test them. That doesn’t mean we need to go out to disprove everything.”

But it does mean we may get closer to the truth.

By Brian Resnick

Kathryn McNeer, LPC specializes in Couples Counseling Dallas with her sound, practical and sincere advice. Kathryn's areas of focus include individual counseling, relationship and couples counseling Dallas. Kathryn has helped countless individuals find their way through life's inevitable transitions; especially that tricky patch of life known as "the mid life crisis." Kathryn's solution-focused, no- nonsense counseling works wonders for men and women in the midst of feeling, "stuck," or "unhappy." Kathryn believes her fresh perspective allows her clients find the better days that are ahead. When working with couples, it is Kathryn's direct yet non-judgmental approach that helps determine which patterns are holding them back and then helps them establish new, more productive patterns. Kathryn draws from Gottman and Cognitive behavioral therapy. When appropriate Kathryn works with couples on trust, intimacy, forgiveness, and communication.

[wellpersonsblog]

5 Essential Strategies to Help You Survive Your First 100-Mile Ultramarathon

So you want to run a 100-mile ultramarathon?

It sounds crazy (100 miles??), but you’re not alone. For the first time years, marathon finishes are down, yet ultramarathons continue to grow in popularity and reach.

Whether it’s the lure of the challenge, the trails, or the unknown, the prestige of the 100-mile distance still reigns supreme.

For some of us, it was the 100-mile distance that got us excited about the sport to begin with. We watched a movie, read a book, or heard about the elites and thought, “Could I do that?”

Yes. Yes you can.

Well, probably. Maybe. It’s not for me to say — only you can decide.

But I can help you get started with just a few key strategies.

Because as casual and approachable as I like to make ultrarunning feel for all runners, before tackling the triple-digit distance, there are a few things you should know. Strategies I’ve learned from successfully training for and completing five 100-mile races myself.

First, Master the Basics

Before we get too far along, I want to make sure you’re in the right place.

See, a few years ago I wrote the simplest ever guide for running your first 50K. I tried to keep things as basic as possible while still hitting all the important stuff.

My four big takeaways were that in order to succeed in transitioning from road races to a trail ultramarathon, you need to:

Learn to run trails.

Slow down.

Go longer.

Perfect your nutrition.

If you’re new to ultrarunning, bookmark this post for (much) later and start with those four tips. It was two years, six ultramarathons, and countless ultra-distance long runs before I ran my first 100 miler. And looking back on it now, I wish I had even more experience before taking the plunge.

No matter how driven you are to run a hundo, if you’re new to the sport, take your time. The lessons you’ll learn through miles and races will make a huge difference when it’s 3:00am and you’re ready to curl up next to a bush and cry.

Understood? Great.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get into the five key strategies that will shape everything you do during 100-mile training.

1. Increase Your Weekly Mileage

When going from a marathon to a 50K, the mileage jump comes mostly from a longer runs or even multiple long runs on the weekend. In 100-mile training, however, most people will need to increase their weekday mileage as well.

I’m not talking about anything crazy, but for the first-time runners, things will look different.

What you need to know:

After an initial ramp-up, you can look forward to mostly 40-50 miles per week , with the exception being a few lighter weeks and those weeks when you have a Key Long Run scheduled (more on that below).

Expect your average weekday run to be 6-8 miles or 60-90 minutes in length. For many runners, this will be an increase from the 4-6 mile runs you might be more accustomed to.

When training for my first hundred, seven- and eight-mile weekday runs felt like a pretty big jump, but before long, it just became the standard, and anything shorter than that began to feel like a warm-up.

That’s the beauty of ultrarunning in general — perspectives change quickly. You may be surprised at how readily your body adapts to the increase, if you have the right fuel to support it. Speaking of which…

2. Get Ready for the Ultra Buffet

Let’s say your first 100 miler takes you 28 hours. If it starts at 5:00am, that means you’ll miss breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a second breakfast while out on the trail. That’s four meals!

No surprise, running gels alone aren’t going to cut it for most of us. Thankfully, you won’t have to resort to bits of flora from the forest floor. Enter the ultra buffet…

With sandwiches, fruit, wraps, soups, and sometimes even veggie bacon.

I’m going to share a bit about nutrition on race day, but the key thing to know while training is to test.

Test, test, and test again.

Use your long runs, tough workouts, and even rest days to think through nutrition strategies and see how foods sit in your belly.

What you need to know about real food:

These days it’s safe to assume that aid stations will have a variety of foods for plant-based athletes (even if it wasn’t intentional). Some staples include PB&J, fruit, chips, pretzels, and potatoes. And throughout a lot of hundred mile races, there’s often someone cooking up hot food like veggie broth, veggie burgers, or soup (plus a variety of non-vegan options like pancakes, bacon, etc.).

If you’re lucky enough to have a crew, however, having them prepare food ahead of your arrival can be a huge benefit. Some of my go-tos are:

Oatmeal

Hummus wraps

Instant noodle bowls (like vegan pad thai)

Refried beans in a tortilla

Coffee (at night, if they don’t have that at the aid stations)

At lot of this food sounds like the last thing you’d want to eat mid run, but for some reason, that doesn’t matter. You’re calorie deficient enough, moving slow enough, and ravenous enough that it just works.

And the more you can practice eating these foods before, during, or right after a long run, the more likely you are to know what’s going to work (and what isn’t) come race day.

What you need to know about gels, gummies, and sports drinks:

Like I said, the sports nutrition products alone won’t typically cut it on race day, but for me and most people, they still play a wildly important role. I may consume real foods at the aid stations, but it could be hours between each crew checkpoint, so I rely on gels, gummies, and sports drink to provide a consistent stream of calories throughout the entire run.

By the end of a hundred-mile race, in addition to all the real food, I may have gone through a 15-20 gels or gummies. In the second half of the race, it’s just a matter of closing my eyes and getting them in however I can. If you’re curious, my go-tos right now are:

Muir Energy Gels

HUMA Gels

CLIF Bloks

Tailwind sports drink (in small amounts for me)

Throughout training, find the products that work best for you and let your body get to know them well.

What you need to know about nausea:

By sticking with foods you’ve trained with, you’ll significantly reduce the risk of stomach issues. But even so, during a race as long as 100 miles, nausea at some point is almost a given.

Enter the boot and rally…

Just kidding. (Although sometimes puking — or pooping — is the best way to hit the reset button.)

There are a million reasons why you might feel nauseous, and ultrarunners have a variety of tricks (like ginger crews or ginger beer) for reducing it, but oftentimes the best way to get through it is to simply slow down, force yourself to eat and drink, and walk it out. Chances are you’ll rebound before you know it.

To prepare for something like this, embrace the nausea in training. If you’re out for a long run and your stomach flips, don’t stop. Take the steps to work through it, both mentally and physically.

Since we’re here anyway, let’s talk about those long runs.

3. Embrace a Few Key Long Runs

Surprise! Long runs are part of running an ultramarathon!

OK, it’s no secret that long runs are a key part of training. The weekly (sometimes twice weekly) long runs not only build strength, but teach you important lessons about nutrition, mindset, and how to handle the time on your feet.

When training for a hundred, you’ll continue to focus on your weekly long runs, but also add in a few (I typically plan for three) of what I call Key Long Runs (KLR) that the rest of your training is centered around.

What you need to know:

These Key Long Runs build, just like the rest of your training, and the last should be 3-4 weeks out from race day. All the training around each KLR is focused on getting you to the next one, and it may even include a short taper or recovery period.

So what can a Key Long Run look like?

Back-to-backs, where you’re running two significant long runs on consecutive days (or back to back to each other).

Training races, anywhere from 50K to 100K. Training races give you a chance to get into the racing mindset, test out your gear and strategies, and offer a really easy way to log some serious miles. Ahead of each of my hundred milers, I’ve run at least a 40-mile tune-up trail race.

Training runs on the course. If you can access the course ahead of time, I highly recommend getting in a KLR on the course. Some of my best pre-hundo long runs have been 10+ hour days out on the course, getting to know sections of trail, climbs, and terrain.

The self-supported ultra. There’s absolutely no shame in pulling out a map, plotting a random route, and getting in an ultra distance long run by yourself. (In fact, I think that’s pretty badass.)

(Check out simi-rad.com for more hilarious ultra “motivational” posters)

While you’re planning out your long runs, be sure you take it to account the conditions you’ll meet on race day. In other words…

4. Train for the Terrain

For any race, regardless of distance, taking terrain and conditions into consideration when training will help.

For a 100 miler, it can be the difference of finishing in glory or collapsing in an aid station chair halfway through and never getting back up again. I will die here before leaving this chair.

And of course, no two courses are the same.

Here’s what you need to know:

At the very early stages of your training, take the time to get to know the course, even if it’s just through race reports or maps:

What does the elevation profile look like?

How much vertical gain and descent?

Does the course consist of mostly smooth paths or rugged mountain terrain?

Is altitude a factor?

From there, plan your KLRs and other training runs to reflect that type of terrain. If it’s flat and fast, train flat and fast.

If it’s big mountains and rocky terrain, you better hit the hills and prepare your quads for a beating on the descents.

For example, ahead of the Hellbender 100 with over 25,000 feet of elevation gain/loss, I spent a lot of time hiking up the steepest trail I could easily access. I’d do laps, sometimes spending hours only to log a handful of miles. One week I ran that same loop, featuring a 1,500ft climb, eight times.

The race specific work you put in throughout training will pay dividends ten fold come mile 80.

While terrain is kind of a no-brainer, something you might not think about is the time of day that you’ll be running (like after sun set).

5. Prepare for the Night

One of the unique features of a 100-mile race is the fact that you’ll almost certainly be running through the night (maybe even two!).

Other than a few wish-I-could-forget-them nights when my daughter was an infant, hundred milers are the only reason I’ve pulled an all nighter since college. Not to mention the fact that you have to run the entire time too.

What you need to know:

1. Trail running: Trail running is trail running, but the experience of running at night is a little different. Even with a headlamp, it’s harder to see rocks and roots, and it’s easier to disconnect from your surroundings. Plus, it can get a little spooky when you’re by yourself.

The best thing you can do is practice. Grab a headlamp, an extra pair of batteries, let someone know where you’re going, and then hit the trail for night runs in the dark. You may actually find that it’s exhilarating and kind of addicting.

Here’s a guide I wrote that explores everything you should know about night running and safety.

2. Dealing with Exhaustion: Generally speaking, if you’re running through the night, you’ve already run through the day. That means you’re coming into a sleepless night already physically exhausted.

Without fail, some of my darkest moments in every hundred miler have been the span of time between 3:00am and sunrise. I drop into a place where sleep consumes every inch of my being.

Unfortunately, there’s not a ton you can do about this in training, but I do have a few strategies for fighting it on race day:

Just keep moving. The longer you sit in a chair by the fire at an aid station, the harder it will be to get back up.

Have a pacer when possible. If they know to keep you moving no matter what, they’ll do it.

Eat. Food always helps.

Don’t be afraid of caffeine, whether that’s from coffee, soda, or gels.

The sun always rises. The night always passes. And if you can keep your spirits up and keep moving, the finish line is that much closer.

Really, It Boils Down to Your Ability to Adapt

There’s just no way to sugarcoat it, running a 100-mile ultramarathon is going to hurt. There will be times that you want to drop out. Or punch your pacer. Or swear off running for the rest of your life.

Being a successful hundred-mile runner boils down to your ability to adapt to the tough conditions of the day, the stomach that flips out of nowhere, or the blister on your left foot.

Breathe. Assess the situation. And do whatever you have to do.

That’s where your hours and hours of training come in. They teach you how to handle the tough moments — and hopefully how to stay positive through them.

Because you know what? 100-mile ultramarathons are all about the mental game. And you control your mind.

So how bad do you really want it?

The post 5 Essential Strategies to Help You Survive Your First 100-Mile Ultramarathon appeared first on No Meat Athlete.

First found here: 5 Essential Strategies to Help You Survive Your First 100-Mile Ultramarathon

[lleodavis]

2018 Nanny Goat Race Report

This is a race I did not expect to PR at.  I have been training for Ironman Canada, now only 2 months away.  I did a half ironman at the beginning of the month and felt more than ready for that.  If anything I should have been doing 4 to 5 hour hilly bike rides at this point, not focusing on how far I can run.  Yet, I had done this race three times previously and knew the only expectation would be what I set for myself.  But before I get into how I surprised myself into my first sub 12 hour 50 miler, let’s first explain what exactly is a Nanny Goat 12 hour / 24 hour / 100 miler.  

 Nanny Goat is part of the Old Goat Race series of trail racing.  The races are very low key with all manner of skill level present.  This particular race is a great one for first time ultra runners.  You need to bring no crew, you have access to a porta potty every ½ mile and your gear every mile, plus you’re never alone for very long because the course is a 1 mile loop.  The course is a mix of hard packed dirt, soft dirt, grass, and just a little bit of asphalt. You can sign up for 12 hours or 24 hours and go for however many laps you want.  Some folks walk the entire thing and some run nonstop.  People camp out under the trees, in RVs on the ranch, or in one of the stalls in the barn, which is something that the course runs through.  For me, this is a real treat.  Yes, laps can be boring.  The monotony isn’t just mental, but physical, and some say that because of the flatness of the course (only 50’ per mile) that it is harder on the body than a hilly ultra (which allows for a variety of different muscles and tempos).  No, this is a treat because you get to see your friends on the course and your friends who come to support you.  They make the race worth doing.  

 The weather for Saturday was projected to be a high of 72 and overcast.  If ever there was a day for a PR, this would be it.  Not that I set out to run 50 miles, not in the bit. Honestly, I just wanted to go out and get around 50K and see what I felt like doing after that.  We all lined up in the “goat pen” for instructions before the race.  I noticed a couple wearing horse masks holding a bottle of fireball and asked if I could take a shot.  They said sure, so I did.  It would not be the last shot or drink I would have that day during the course. In what seemed like just a few minutes later the gate was opened and we all filed out to start the race.  I had it in my head that I would run 4 laps and walk 1 at least until noon.  Those first 4 hours went real quick.  I talked to a few different folks, mostly about triathlons (some were wearing gear, others tattoos) and my good friend Diana.  When I got to mile 20 I stopped to change shorts, socks and to stick roll. I was really, really glad that I stopped early to take care of some minor issues that could have turned worse. There’s a saying that if you don’t manage small things early they will become big things later in the race.  The compression shorts that I had changed into solved the issue of chafing (despite the lube before the race) and the clean socks made me realize how pervasive the dust from the course is.  No matter what I do at this race I ALWAYS get blisters. I’ve gone 26 hours without changing socks or shoes, I’ve done races with a dozen water crossings, and I’ve done races in really hot weather where I don’t worry about my feet.  Nanny Goat is not one of those courses.  After just 20 miles when I took off my shoes and socks I wasn’t surprised to see my feet were covered in dirt .  I could already see where I was forming blisters, so I cleaned my feet with wet wipes, dried them, and applied as much lube (something like Desitin for the parents reading) to my toes and put a fresh pair of toed socks back on.  

 By now there were more than muffins, chips, pretzels, and potatoes out.  They had veggie burgers, cheese burgers, tri tip steak, PB &J, and cheese quesadillas to pick from.  I grabbed small bites of each from that point forward.  Every time it was time for another walk lap I would grab what I could take with me and finish it while moving.  I also forced myself to keep drinking pickle juice (even though I hate, hate, hate dill pickles) and plenty of other fluids.  Occasionally I’d grab a small amount of Sprite or ginger ale. Overall, I felt like I was constantly snacking or drinking, if only a little bit here and there.  I remember my first Nanny Goat in 2014 how hard it became to eat after mile 40.  I felt that I successfully fueled throughout this race not knowing how this method would work, which is much different from a normal trail race where aid stations can be 5 to 10 miles apart depending on the distance.  Many people think running that far is all about cardio, but there is so much more to running ultras than just who is most efficient at converting oxygen into energy.  As I mentioned previously, managing the little things is far more important sometimes.

 Another key aspect of my strategy was to not over do my effort.  I wore my heart rate monitor and I consistently managed my intensity to stay in zone 3.  My average heart rate for the day was 135 bpm and my max HR was 156 bpm.  I spent 90% of the day in zone 3 or lower.  Now, I probably wouldn’t have been able to do this if it weren’t for the 1 mile walk breaks after ever 4th mile. Watching my heart rate proved more important than pace; however, I noticed that I had consistently been doing between and 11 and 12 minute pace per mile.  I noticed as the day wore on, more and more folks started taking longer and longer walk breaks, whereas I felt strong.  

 Somewhere past 1400 hours (6 hours of race time) my friend Freddy and his friend Amie showed up, which was nice because Diana and I had no one in our stall this year because so many of our friends had were off doing other races.  Freddy brought with him various costumes which he would randomly change into at times.  He would walk or run a lap or two with Diana or I, toss me a beer when I got thirsty, or they would just clap at times, which was enough.  My other “crew” came from the folks who were charged with controlling the parking lot entrance at the halfway point.  They had a dry erase board and wrote up encouraging and silly things to make us laugh.  After a while it became my own challenge to try to think of responses for them.  For example, early on they had a sign that said, “sit down and I will tell you a story.”  So I responded, “Is that the time your life got turned around, flipped upside down, and you had to go live in Bel Air?”  A few runners with me laughed at that.  Once they had a sign up that said, “Sing us a song” so I sang to the “I’m too sexy for my shirt” at which point they all laugh and cheered. As I got to mile 35 I told them I only had 15 laps left and almost every time after that they would ask what lap I was on and cheer and offer encouragement.  Honestly, they were the best supporters out there being complete strangers and all.  

 Around mile 40 I was surprised that I was still keeping to my 4 to 1 ratio of run/walk intervals. Usually at this point the heat, my feet, or my stomach had pushed me to walk much more.  Considering that I had done very little ultra training I was shocked that I was able to power through this much running after more than 8 hours of being on my feet.  Yet, I could feel my feet and legs taking a pounding.  I stopped to again take care of my feet and roll (massage) my quads, calves, and IT band.  The blisters that were starting to form at mile 20 were full blown at this point, yet they weren’t so bad that I couldn’t continue.  I went through the same routine again.  However, this time when I got up to start running again I was very sluggish to get going.  I ran to mile 44 even though I had planned to start lowering that ratio.  The idea of walking my final lap didn’t appeal to me. I caught up with my friend Diana and suddenly adopted her strategy of mixing up the run/walk segments for the next 5 miles.  Comparatively speaking, Diana’s legs seemed fresher, her power walk full of purpose, and I realized I could let her take the lead and get me to my goal.  It was suddenly as if a weight had been lifted because I no longer had to drive myself forward; instead just follow.  Not much time later and I realized I had the goal of sub 12 hours in the bag.  My legs didn’t feel any better, but I realized that I was close to my limits of endurance for the day.  50 miles (or more) is a distance I’ve done three times previously, and yet stopping while I still had gas in the tank (and not pushing to 62 miles) seemed like a really smart idea.  Overtraining is something I have dealt with too often.  Thus, at 11 hours and 45 minutes I informed the Race Director and the timing folks that I was done, despite being signed up for 24 hours.  

 I have to say it felt really good achieving this distance in this time.  There are a few races out there where in order to get a finisher’s medal (not a participation medal!) you have to do it in less than 12 hours. Then again, many 50 milers go up to 15 hours depending on the difficulty, but for me this was a goal that has eluded me since the first time I tried it for one reason or another.  As usual, the credit cannot go to me alone. My friends and really all the folks out there supporting very much helped.  Sometimes it was a simple, “you’re doing great” or a high five. Other times it was listening to my bad jokes and cracking a smile.  I’m sure I’ll be back next year.  This time with a 100K on my mind.  

[comefollowtherainbowroad-blog]

Society’s Rules

The alarm sounded and Mrs. Donnie woke at exactly 6am. She went to the bathroom and showered. As always she was done by 6:15. She dressed in a silk morning gown and went downstairs to prep breakfast. This included setting the table, juicing oranges, getting out pot/spans, preheating ovens and fetching her husbands paper.

At 6:45 she returned to the main bathroom and groomed. She plucked brows, removed curlers, styled hair, applied makeup and shaved legs if needed. Switching to a house dress once she was done. By 7:15 she was ready to make breakfast. At 7:30 she prepped showers and woke up her husband and three kids. While they ate she made their lunches.

Her kids boarded the bus at 7:45 and her husband left for work at 8am. She then ate her breakfast and began cleaning up. By 9am she was usually done. Once breakfast was done she started cleaning the house. Shelves were dusted, toilets scrubbed, floors vacuumed sinks bleached and windows print free. This was usually done by 1pm.

After housework was done she checked the weather. Nothing but rain for the next three days. After laying out the rain mat by the door she set down and read The Dutiful Wife Guide. Flipping it open she started at The Rules of Wifehood.

A wife must always appear neat and unfrazzled.

A wife must never wear home clothes outside or outing clothes at home.

A wife must always serve her husband first. The will of the husband is the will of the wife.

A wife’s job is to please her husband.

A wife’s place is to tend to the home and children.

A wife’s purpose is to raise a family

A wife who can’t conceive can’t be a wife

A wife must always get her husband’s approval when going out

A wife may only be attracted to her husband

A wife may only speak if asked to by her husband or to bring up issues of the house.

Once she finished going over the rules she started dinner. Tonight she was making her husband’s favorite, pot roast. Reaching into the fridge she pulled out, four carrots, three stocks of celery and the beef. From the pantry, she grabbed one large onion and two decent potatoes. She rinsed the potatoes, carrots, celery and set to work dicing them. Once they were done she peeled the onion and chopped it up as well. The vegetables were nestled around the roast, water was added until about halfway up and set to slow cook on 300 for the next five hours.

At 3pm the kids return from school. She makes them a light snack of PB&J and sends them to their rooms to do homework. The oldest child, a daughter named Millie, announced that she had something she wanted to say at dinner. She wrote it on the schedule and sent her upstairs with the others.

At 5pm the roast was ready. At 6pm her husband returned and they sit down to eat. Each of the kids goes over their day at school then her husband complains about work. They eat in silence for a few minutes then Millie speaks up.

“My family I have an announcement. I know what I’m about to say may come as a shock.” she pauses as there is a knock at the door. The couple looks at each other as unannounced company past 5pm is a taboo.

Her husband got up and answered the door. He plastered on a fake smile and motioned for the others to as well. Two counselors from the Good Church walked in. The female wore a white cardigan with a tight black knee length skirt. The male a three-piece suit.

“Hi I’m Laura and this is my partner Craig. We are here to discuss a disturbing incident involving your daughter Millie.” The female explained in a high pitched chirp. Millie tried to slink under the table as her siblings slid their chairs away from her.

“What happened exactly?” her husband kept his tone polite but authoritative.

“Well..” the male started. “..she was caught fighting with one of her fellow students. When asked why she said he was being mean to her friend Trixie.”

“Who is Trixie I thought Dominique was her friend?” the father asked.

“As far as I knew there was only Dominique and Katie. She has stayed at their house several times” she answered. She motioned for the other two kids to head upstairs. Millie only sunk lower into her chair.

“You see that’s what we thought as well but when asked they said they never spoke to her before,” Laura explained. “We asked about that but their parents never met her.”

The four adults turned toward the twelve year old. She looked terrified but pulled herself together. Standing up she faced them with all the courage she could muster. Her hands shaking she confessed.

“Trixie is my friend from school. She lives at a sanctuary and has two daddies. I fought Rachel cause she was telling her that she should kill herself cause she has offended God. I don’t believe that God would want that.” She stood there and looked them both straight in the eyes as her entire body shook. “When I was supposed to be at Katie’s or Dominique’s I was at Trixie’s learning acceptance.”

“Well that’s all we needed to know.” Laura chirped. She pulled out and latched a bronze bracelet around the girl's wrist. “If you were an adult it’d be silver but since it was only a few minor bruises bronze for supporting her. After three months of counseling it will be removed. See you tomorrow.” With that they left.

“Explain. Now. Girl.” her husband barked.

Millie sat down and through tears explained all that happened. How the other girls were mean and kept calling him an extremist after what happened with Lucielle. How only Trixie accepted her and his reputation and how Luci used to pass notes back and forth through her. She even explained how during the two week sleepover at Katie’s she was at Lucielle’s wearing black lace and coloring her hair bright blue with chalk.

Her father was furious. He started yelling claiming she betrayed him just like her older sister.Her mom broke down into tears demanding to know where she went wrong. Her siblings could be heard upstairs muttering about how this would kill their reputation.

Once he calmed down she started shaking. She remembered what happened to Lucielle, or Luci as she preferred. Tears in her eyes she remained silent as her father grabbed her arm and drug her to the car.

Mrs. Donnie pulled herself together once they were gone. She cleaned up after dinner and tucked the two kids into bed as it was 8pm. She then went into Millie’s room and packed her things just as she had for Lucielle. Her bathroom was cleared out and her clothes neatly folded in a case. All her toys were put into a box along with her pink butterfly bedding. By 9:30pm it was as if the room had never been used.

She picked up the dutiful wife guide and turned to where she left off. She recited the rules until he returned.

The Husband is the king of the castle, what he says goes

It is the husband’s right to do as he will to the kids so long as it isn’t in sin

It is the duty of the wife to follow the will of the husband

The Husband’s decision is final and may not be challenged

All unmarried children are the property of the husband

A wife may never challenge or question the Husband

When they returned at midnight she didn’t question where they went for she already knew. When her daughter lay crying in her barren bed she offered no comfort as it was her husband’s will. When her daughter went downstairs and left her bag of clothes in one hand and a map in the other she didn’t follow. As the rain fell in sheets and thunder boomed she didn’t worry. For as her husband wished the child was no longer hers.

She cleaned up her house and put the rest of the girl’s belongings in boxes in the garage. If she didn’t claim them in a week they’d be thrown out. Once finished she showered, put on her nightgown, set the alarm and curled up next to her husband to sleep.

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Howl woke up to someone knocking on the door. She looked at the clock and was only more confused as it was only 2 am. Groggily she got up and got dressed. She answered the door in her pajamas, shirt buttoned cockeyed and her a tangled mess.

“Hello welcome to Rainbow Road Please come in.” The cold rain pelted her in the face waking her up instantly. Even more confused she looked down at the soggy shivering mess before her.

“Hi I’m M.m.millie, T.trixie’s friend. S.s.sorry to incon...inconvenience you b.b.but I am in n.n.need of a home. I h.h.have only twenty dollars to my n.n.name but I’ll get a job.” The little bundle squeaked.

Howl gathered the kid to her chest and carried her to the common room sofa. She was soaked to the bone and shaking badly. It was unknown if it was from crying or the cold. Howl started combing her over for injuries. It was when she screeched that she stopped to look at her shoulder. Sure enough there was a bloody rose tattoo. Great the mark of the Goth.

“Would you like some cocoa or chocolate cake? How about both while we talk.” she asked gently. “I’ll even tend to your new tattoo. It needs to be covered. Ok?” The little bundle nodded.

“D.d.do you ha.ha.have any d.d.d.dry clothes I can b.b.borrow?” Her shaking was getting worse.

“Sure they might be a bit big but let’s get you warm and changed.” She took her upstairs and ran a hot bath. She put Neosporin and a bandage on the tattoo and set her in the bath. Once she stopped shaking she took her out, dried her off and gave her one of her flannel night shirts. It was way too big but comfy.

Pulling one of the lounge chairs into one of the kitchens many openings she tucked the girl in while she made cocoa. She didn’t push or pry she just let her process at her own pace. Getting kicked out was hard, getting thrown out at twelve was worse.

“Is it okay if I stay here awhile?” The little girl asked.

“Sure Millie no worries. I know your older sister lives in Gothic Manor but it’s not really kid friendly. If you want you can stay with Nat’s mom Charlene for as long as you like.” She paused to offer her food.

“Cake? Ice cream? Both? They’re chocolate.” Howl offered her a slice of chaotic looking confection.

“Umm. not to be rude but I’ve never had chocolate. Father always said it was the Devil’s invention.” She took the plate and stared at it like one would a spider in the bathroom.

“Okay Millie there is only one thing you need to know about this place at your age. Chocolate is life. Trust me, try it.” She offered her a bite of Triple Chocolate Crunch ice cream. The kid’s eyes went wide as she grabbed the container and made for the couch. Howl laughed and followed her with the cake.

They ate in silence for a bit before Millie spoke up again. “Can I still go to school?” she asked.

Howl responded. “If you want we have a school inside if you’d prefer so you don’t have to see Laura tomorrow.”

“No.” she said sleepily. “I want to still be friends with Trixie and see my siblings. School is the only place I can see them now. If they come here they’ll get in trouble.” she started to nod off.

“Why’s that honey?” Howl asked. She tucked a green throw around her and gave her a few of the animal pillows from the chairs.

“Cause it’s Society’s rules. Mom has to obey daddy as do my brothers. Daddy hates what they call the unnaturals. So mommy and them have to as well. But at school they have to interact with everyone regardless of that so we can still talk.” She closed her eyes and barely finished her last sentence before she fell asleep “I wonder if mommy misses me, she didn’t miss Luci or Grace.”  

Howl held her hand as tears drifted down her cheeks. This is the second kid this week. She studied the bronze bracelet on her wrist. Trixie told her what happened when she came home today. She figured her parents would throw her out which is why they lied to her when she came over those few times.

Howl wiped her eyes and moved Millie to the guest room. Checking the clock and realizing it was only 5am she set an alarm for 7am and left a note for Nami with an address to get her things. She loaded Millies clothes into the washer as the rain pierced through the bag. Unable to sleep she called up Charlene who burst into tears and woke Nat. The three made plans to set up her guest room, in the meantime she’d stay with Howl.

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The alarm sounded and Mrs. Donnie woke at exactly 6am. She went to the bathroom and showered. As always she was done by 6:15. She dressed in a silk morning gown and went downstairs to prep breakfast. This included setting the table, juicing oranges, getting out pot/spans, preheating ovens and fetching her husbands paper.

At 6:45 she returned to the main bathroom and groomed. She plucked brows, removed curlers, styled hair, applied makeup and shaved legs if needed. Switching to a house dress once she was done. By 7:15 she was ready to make breakfast. At 7:30 she prepped showers and woke up her husband and two kids. While they ate she made their lunches.

“Have a good day at school.” She called to her oldest, a boy named Tom. The other boy, Tim asked about Millie only to be smacked by Tom.

“We don’t talk about it.” he hissed at his younger brother on the bus.

“But why?” Tim asked.

“Cause those are the rules. Which is why we gotta be different once we grow up. But only after cause if not we get Lucied.” Tom explained

“Okay.” responded his brother. The nine year old had a lot to learn.

Once they were on the bus she walked into the garage. She reached into the box labeled Millie and pulled out her favorite stuffed tiger. She tied a blue ribbon around its neck that said Millie. She then placed it in a box labeled wedding that they kept on the top shelf in the garage.

It settled in next to two others. One was a pink cow with red ribbon that said Lucielle and a parrot with a black ribbon that said Grace. Around the middle of the bird was a black and gold banded bracelet. Beneath was a photo of a happy family of seven. A smiling mom, a cheerful dad, twin girls, another little girl and two little boys. On the back it read: The Donnie family, Mr. & Mrs Donnie, twins Grace and Lucille, little Millie and the boys Tommy and Timothy.

She set the notice of misbehavior next to two others. One for a Lucille which cited her transgression as “Crazy hair color” and one for a Grace which cited “used the incorrect pronoun when referring to herself” as her transgression.

“A wife must always obey her husband. Her husband’s rule is law and his will is the will of the house. Whatever the husband decides must be obeyed. Children are the property of the husband and he may treat them as he pleases so long as it isn’t sinful. Should the husband decide to purge the world of his children a wife’s job is to aid. His rule is law and his will the will of heaven.” She whispered as she pulled Millies social and birth certificate from the box.

Nami and officer Daniels stopped by at 2pm to pick up Millies things. He looked for signs of abuse but never checked the box labeled wedding as those were sacred to the Good Church and he had no warrant nor did she have a gold or black bracelet. Since her husband wasn’t home they couldn’t search him or his office.

Suspicious but with no other options Nami packed up her things and left. They watched as her tail lights faded into the rainy afternoon. Daniels looked at the woman who has, as far as records indicate, banished three kids now.

“Can you answer a question for me?” he asked.

The women nodded. “As long as it pertains to the house.” She responded.

“How can you just cut off three kids that you gave birth to. You treat them like they don’t exist. She just left last night yet there are no photos or any sign she was here.” he’d be the first to admit his tone was rough.

The answer she gave he swears will haunt him for the rest of his life. Her tone nauseated him and the smile she gave chilled him to his bones. The irony wasn’t lost on him as he left The Sacred Path housing community. It was why cops were forbidden from joining the Good Church.

“It’s society’s rules officer. Those that don’t belong don’t exist. Those that don’t exist can never have been. My daughters were just a lie I constructed as they no longer belong therefore never existed. This is the will of my husband and therefore the will of the house.” She chirped at him. There was no sign of guilt or remorse in her eyes. She waved as he left and walked back inside as if nothing unusual had occurred.

[escaperail1]

How one Southern theater won a culture battle but lost the culture wars.

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Kushner’s Angels in America premiered on Broadway, swept the Tony Awards, won the Pulitzer Prize, and changed the way gay lives were represented in pop culture. For a 2016 Slate cover story, Isaac Butler and Dan Kois assembled an oral history of Angels. Now Butler and Kois have expanded that story into a book, The World Only Spins Forward: The Ascent of Angels in America, out Tuesday. Through more than 250 interviews with actors, directors, playwrights, and critics, the book tells the story of Angels’ turbulent rise into the pantheon of great American storytelling—and explores the legacy of a play that feels, in an era when freedom and civil rights still feel under siege, as crucial as ever.

Much of Angels’ impact was in scores of ambitious productions across the country, far away from the bright lights of Broadway. Putting on the epic two-part drama has become a rite of passage for theaters in cities large and small across America and around the world. In this exclusive excerpt from The World Only Spins Forward, actors, administrators, and journalists tell the story of one such theater that went to court to fight a local government that wanted to shut the play down—and won.

Keith Martin (producing and managing director, Charlotte Repertory Theatre, 1990–2001): We got the rights to Angels in America in 1994, but we produced it in 1996.

Tom Viertel (producer of the Angels in America national tour, 1994–95): We intended to tour in Charlotte and the Charlotte Rep begged us not to come, to let them do it themselves.

Steve Umberger (director of Angels in America at Charlotte Rep, 1996): We were growing. We had done some challenging work, we had just started doing collaborations with the Charlotte Symphony: Midsummer, Romeo and Juliet, The Tempest, full text, with orchestra, working on a big canvas. Expanding our audiences.

Perry Tannenbaum (founder and editor, Creative Loafing Charlotte): There were only six theaters in the United States that were being allowed to do the show that near to the Broadway production. It was a big deal.

Viertel: They were so passionate about this that we agreed to let them do it. And they did it, and they were all fired. They literally dissolved Charlotte Rep.

Doug Wager (artistic director, Arena Stage, Washington, 1991–98): The 1990s were the peak of the culture wars that broke out with the assault on the National Endowment for the Arts.

Brian Herrera (assistant professor of theater, Princeton University): The culture wars were a tipping point. Up until then, even though there was contestation with the NEA, there wasn’t a sense that it was going to go away.

Wager: The NEA imprimatur is the thing that gives the foundations their incentive. So the absence of that imprimatur gave funders some really good reasons to avoid anything too sticky or controversial, in general.

Herrera: Queer people and people of color became poster children for what conservative America doesn’t represent, like Robert Mapplethorpe and Piss Christ. It was a way of using particular artists to mark a line in the sand and say we therefore do not support the arts. And using the shock of the artists and their work and their identities as proof that they were corrupt and thus unworthy of funding and, by extension, not good Americans.

Wager: All of that was giving politicians—putting them into a cold sweat, and giving them a justification for suppressing, diverting, or cutting federal funding for the arts.

Greg Reiner (director, theater and musical theater, National Endowment for the Arts): In 1992 we had $172 million. And then in ’96 that’s when we lost 40 percent of our funding. This year our funding is $150 million, which is close to what it was in pure dollars, not counting inflation, in the mid-’90s.

Umberger: We didn’t do Angels to create any sort of political sensation. I think Tony Kushner felt … we were the smallest of the companies, and I think he had some sympathy for that. He was also certainly aware of the political climate, and Jesse Helms.

Kevin R. Free (Belize at Charlotte Rep, 1996): There were all these discussions about the New South versus the Old South. Charlotte was supposed to be the New South. The New South was supposedly progressive, more inclusive of gay inhabitants, people of color. The attitudes were supposed to have changed.

Umberger: Charlotte is the largest city in either Carolina. So you have this strange tension between an aspiration to be a “world-class place,” a phrase that’s been thrown around a lot in Charlotte, and a very small-town way of thinking that’s always been at the core: a Southern, conservative, churchgoing sensibility.

Lawrence Toppman (arts reporter, Charlotte Observer, 1980–2017): The boosterish talk about “a world-class city” didn’t reflect reality then or now. Even more than Atlanta, a city Charlotte leaders alternately mocked and emulated, Charlotte was an odd conglomeration of Northern transplants seeking warmer climates, workers imported by banks from other cities, and natives who still thought of it as an overgrown small town.

Martin: It was our due diligence that got us into trouble.

Tannenbaum: Part of what had been recommended was this sort of community outreach.

Martin: We created a series of communitywide education and outreach activities in hopes of shedding light on the difficult issues of the play, rather than heat.

Umberger: All of the events happened so quickly, a week or less.

Martin: The Charlotte Observer went Page A1 with the following headline: “Theater Aims to Avert Storm Over ‘Angels’ Drama.”

Tony Kushner’s seven-hour epic, which Charlotte Repertory Theatre opens March 20 in the North Carolina Blumenthal Performing Arts Center, has been hailed as the play of the decade, the winner of one Pulitzer Prize and two Tony Awards as best drama.

It also contains nudity, a simulated homosexual act and adult language—elements that have caused trouble for Charlotte’s cultural organizations in the past.

In one scene, a young man with AIDS takes off his shirt so a nurse can check his lesions. “Only six. That’s good,” she pronounces. “Pants.” The young man drops his trousers so she can continue. He is as naked as the day he was born.

—Tony Brown, “Theater Aims to Avert Storm Over ‘Angels’ Drama,” Charlotte Observer, March 6, 1996

Tannenbaum: The head of the so-called Concerned Charlotteans, the Rev. Joe Chambers, sent a fax to City Council asking for a roll call about who supported this homosexual event and who didn’t.

Tony Kushner: Rev. Chambers was nuts. He had declared Barney the Dinosaur an agent of the devil. I mean, he was a hideous person.

The popular PBS kids’ show character is “straight out of the New Age and the world of demons and devils,” warns Rev. Joseph Chambers, who runs a four-state radio ministry based in North Carolina.

Barney, adored by millions of toddlers and preschoolers, is yet another sign that “America is under siege from the powers of darkness,” adds the politically active Chambers.

And for a donation to his 25-year-old Paw Creek Ministries in Charlotte, Chambers will send you a booklet explaining it all: “Barney the New Age Demon,” recently retitled “Barney the Purple Messiah.”

—Cox News Service, Nov. 25, 1993

Tannenbaum: After the fax was sent out, the Blumenthal Performing Arts Center, the City Council, the local attorney general, all enjoined the Rep from opening.

Scott Belford (director of public relations, Arts and Science Council, Charlotte, 1995–2000): It became a rallying point to question freedom in the arts.

Martin: Their lawyers tried to shut us down using the North Carolina obscenity law. But they couldn’t. Works of “intrinsic artistic and literary merit” were excluded from the law. The only legal option they had was North Carolina’s indecent exposure statute, because of the roughly eight seconds of full frontal male nudity.

The cease-and-desist order constituted prior restraint, because we had yet to break any laws. It also constituted an imminent threat, because I was named personally. That allowed me to seek judicial relief from the court in the form of a restraining order, which later was made into a permanent injunction. In six hours I had to find a lawyer, file a formal request, find precedent, a sympathetic judge, request a court hearing, deal with my staff, my board, the cast, the crew, the media, and get process servers.

Umberger: We all knew there was a chance the show wouldn’t open. There we were, at 5 in the green room before first preview, wondering, “What’s going to happen next?” We had worked for a year—were we going to be able to do the play?

Martin: At 4:58 p.m., two minutes before the clerk’s office closed, the judge’s order was signed and filed with the clerk, and process servers fanned out across the county to serve notice.

Umberger: At 5:15 or something, we found out we were doing it. The show was at 7:30, I think. So it was close!

Martin: We served the Performing Arts Center board and senior staff, the police chief, city police department, the county sheriff, the sheriff’s department, the DA and all of his magistrates, even the local and state alcohol and beverage control board, because we had a full bar at the theater and you can’t serve alcohol at a premises with full nudity. Anyone who had the legal authority to shut us down, we got an order against them. We were painting with a shotgun, not a rifle.

Angus MacLachlan (Louis at Charlotte Rep, 1996): We were warned there might be bomb threats, or that during the nude scene people might try to stop the show.

Tannenbaum: It turns out that the Concerned Charlotteans showing up en masse to protest the opening numbered 15 or thereabouts. And the number of people picketing in favor of Angels numbered between 150 and 200!

MacLachlan: It felt like two different factions, like what’s happening now in America. What Trump is doing, what the conservatives in America are doing, but most people didn’t vote for him. We had tremendous support from the community.

Kushner: They tried this direct assault, actually stopping it, and ran right into the First Amendment. I mean, it didn’t work, and in fact made it a huge thing, and everybody with a conscience in Charlotte felt they had to go and see it.

Martin: Opening night, I said, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Angels in America,” and there was a standing ovation. We hadn’t even done the show yet!

Be splendid tonight, be focused, have fun, make theater: That’s our way of repudiating the bullies, the killjoys, the busybodies and blowhards. We know the secret of making art, while they only know the minor secret of making mischief. We proceed from joy; they only have their misery.

—fax from Tony Kushner to Charlotte Rep, March 20, 1996

MacLachlan: That night was so electric, and so supportive, it was really about what you wanted it to be about: Kushner’s words, the events onstage. The feeling, the connection from the audience, was everything you want in a theater. That’s what was happening, not the little noises from outside.

Martin: The headline in the papers the next day was “Judge: Let ‘Angels’ Play.” It was a bigger typeface than Kennedy’s assassination.

A last-minute court order Wednesday secured opening night for the tense cast and crew of the Pulitzer Prize-winning epic, which played without protest in city after city until it reached Charlotte. A group of Christian conservatives tried blocking the show over scenes of nudity, profanity and simulated sex.

Even after the legal victory, some expected an outburst during the nude scene, but when Charlotte actor Alan Poindexter dropped his blue slacks and for seven seconds faced the audience naked, no one said or did a thing.

—Tony Brown, Gary L. Wright, and Paige Williams, “Judge: Let ‘Angels’ Play,” Charlotte Observer, March 21, 1996

Belford: The show sold out and extended because it was in the headlines every day and there was so much discussion around it. A lot of people felt they had to see it to see what the fuss was all about.

Toppman: Charlotte Repertory Theatre never did a more accomplished show.

MacLachlan: Tony Kushner came down and saw it. I remember him saying this play has been done all over the world, in very conservative countries, and nothing like this had ever happened.

Kushner: They stopped the plane on the runway and suddenly all these policemen came on, and the stewardess asked me if I was me, and they helped me off the plane because they were worried about a death threat or something. It was nonsense, but it was exciting.

Martin: They picketed every one of the play’s 30 performances. They even showed up Monday nights. The first time that happened, they told the media they had successfully stopped the show. The police had to tell them we were dark on Mondays.

Tannenbaum: We were all very euphoric at the time. It remained, until the company folded, the most staggering hit they had. Eleven thousand people saw that show in Charlotte.

Umberger: The next season, we had a 20 percent increase in subscriptions, and when we polled people, they said it was because of Angels.

Tannenbaum: There was a tremendous feeling that this was a huge opportunity for Charlotte theater to expand. This is [laughs] obviously not the scenario that played out.

Free: I can’t talk about Angels without talking about Six Degrees.

Umberger: We had chosen [John Guare’s] Six Degrees of Separation for the next season. Joe Chambers or someone seized upon that as proof that we were continuing to violate standards, that it was bigger than Angels. We tried to defuse that, say that wasn’t what the play was about.

Free: It wasn’t nearly as good, but it became “Why is Charlotte Rep doing all these gay plays?” Six Degrees isn’t even really a gay play.

Martin: It’s available in the comedy section at Blockbuster.

Kushner: They did what these people always do: The next year they realized a full-frontal assault on civil liberties and freedom of speech wasn’t gonna work, so they defunded the Rep.

Martin: In November of 1996, the Mecklenburg County Commission became dominated by Republicans who had a stealth mission to defund the arts. The “Gang of Five,” led by Hoyle Martin.

Umberger: I think it was on April first. April Fools’ Day. It was a vote to defund the $2.5 million Arts and Science Council. It was funny, because they wanted to defund us because of Angels. But they wouldn’t say, “Well, we can’t give money to organizations that do gay material,” so they had to defund the whole thing, the 30-odd groups that got money from the council. That meeting started at 6 in the afternoon and went until 2 in the morning. There was an overflow crowd. It was a very tense and raucous seven or eight hours that had many speakers for and against. The head of the commission was not part of the Gang of Five. He voted against. Right before the vote he said, “Watch us, and forgive us.”

Belford: It was a 5–4 vote.

Umberger: That was 2½ million out the door.

Belford: The Arts Council funded programs for kids. The symphony. The opera. Just because this one group funded by the council did one play with a gay character in it.

Martin: Hoyle Martin went so far as saying we should ban all works that include the word homosexual, works created by artists who were homosexual. One minister railed from the pulpit about the works of Leonard Bernstein. One said they should ban The Nutcracker because Tchaikovsky was gay. I was “outed” myself, by Republican County Commissioner Bill James, the only one of the Gang of Five who is still in office. This was a surprise to my wife and teenage daughter.

Belford: It was a real wake-up call to the community. A black eye to Charlotte. We’re trying to be a very progressive, forward-thinking city.

Martin: Four of the Gang did not survive the next election cycle.

Belford: After the elections, the funding was returned and increased.

Tannenbaum: There was a dampening effect. It ushered in an era of extreme caution. They actually convened—the Arts and Sciences Council—convened a task force where all sides would be represented and would issue guidelines for arts events in Charlotte. And of course any compromise would preclude events like Angels in America.

Umberger: I was on the task force. Also on that task force was Joe Chambers. Everyone had been invited to the table. All sides.

Tannenbaum: The appeasement from beginning to end of these wackos is really just startling.

Toppman: Charlotte Rep fomented controversy, wittingly or unwittingly, by responding clumsily to the negative comments. Self-righteousness, even when one is righteous, doesn’t convert or engage enraged people. Cowardly, confused politicians didn’t help.

Tannenbaum: It pretty much reaffirms what we’re seeing today in Charlotte. Some little thing, like a bathroom and who is supposed to go in it, stirs up a national furor.

Umberger: A lot of people assume that Angels is the reason Charlotte Rep closed. That wasn’t the reason. It was a supporting factor. People were tired. The theater staff was tired. The city was tired from all of the fighting. I was gone in 2002, and it lasted until 2005, but it happened when the economy was beginning to fail. Charlotte Rep needed another million bucks to keep healthy, but that money was nowhere to be found.

Toppman: No one came out of this mess covered with glory, except the actors and technicians.

Martin: I have almost one and a half file drawers from Angels. Of the thousands of articles, there’s one that’s my favorite, an editorial from March 24, 1996, in the Charlotte Observer. The headline is “Bravo Charlotte Rep.” “In this conservative city, on this matter, that took guts. Bravo.”

Excerpted from The World Only Spins Forward: The Ascent of Angels in America by Isaac Butler and Dan Kois. Published by Bloomsbury USA. Portions of the book first appeared in Slate.

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[fal-carrington]

Pairing: KamilahxMc

Disclaimer: The Characters belongs to PB

Prompt: >>Back to you sequel << Ending her relationship with Scott was easy, standing up before her authoritarian and manipulating father was also easy. In this new chapter of her life Hayley must learn that marrying Kamilah also meant marrying Ahmanet Financial and with that comes with all the attention and pursuit of the media as a new sociliate married to one of America's most powerful women. When one day a pipe causes a flood in her old apartment, her former housemate and best friend needs a place to stay. Lily ends up moving to Kamilah's penthouse, suddenly privacy becomes something precious and rare, clothes and food pop up around the house and one of Kamilah's precious furniture appears accidentally broken. Now Hayley has to deal with this new challenge of having her best friend in the same house with her wife and dealing with the new life of being the new sociliate of New York.

Airport New York, 20:30 pm

"Welcome back Mrs Sayeed. How was the journey?" Those were the first words of Bryan, the driver of Kamilah who in those first minutes as soon as the private jet had landed, had proved its efficiency in unloading my bags and Kamilah’s, that awaited to us from the outside of the jet.

I threw the strap of my transverse pouch over my shoulder, quickly checking up my cell phone battery as I followed Kamilah out of the jet.

"Very satisfactory." Kamilah replied by walking past him, her black jacket fluttering in the wind. Satisfactory, that was her response when it came to our honeymoon. Kamilah had gotten two weeks off from the office for our honeymoon in Italy. It was the most she'd gotten, but according to her, she could not stay out any more than that, since the company depended on her. I was sure there was more to it, she missed working, I had been married to a workaholic. By marrying Kamilah, I had married not only her, but Ahmanet Financial as well. Anyway, I was glad I got her out of the office for a few days. It was incredibly cold out here. I was sure it had rained, I could still see the splash of water on the tarmac at the airport. It should have been around ten degrees, lucky that I was prepared with my sweatshirt. I held Blue tightly in my arms, the last thing I wanted was to drop him. The thing is, when we got married, one of my London friends gave us a wedding present, a Golden Retriever puppy. Kamilah hated the idea of ​​having a dog at home, I guess I'll never be able to forget the horrified expression on her face when she saw the present, but I had loved. Now I would not feel so alone when I was at home and not at the hospital.

"Miss Hayley, it's good to see you again." Bryan smiled at me, I took off my headphones and smiled at him. After several attempts calling me Miss O'Connell and with me insisting that he could call me by my name, he had finally become accustomed.

“It's good to see you too.” I hugged him with one free hand. It must have been quite strange for Kamilah's employees to see her boss always dressed formally in clothes that looked like they had come out of a fashion show and her wife dressed like a teenager in a sweatshirt, shabby jeans and all stars. I watched from the corner of my eye as Kamilah's assistant, Karen running up to her with her tablet in hand, she followed Kamilah to the limousine talking to her. I rolled my eyes, yeah my honeymoon is officially over. Kamilah had stayed on the cell phone for most of the flight, honestly I had my suspicions that she had worked in secret during our honeymoon. Old habits die hard.

I followed her to the limousine, Kamilah was already waiting for me inside with Karen. Both were so busy talking about a contract that they did not even pay attention when I entered. Blue laid his head on the bench beside me.

I put my headphones back on and played my Spotify playlist, leaning my head on the bench, thinking that on Monday I would have to go back to the hospital to reward the days I was away. I focused on the beat of the song, looked up and saw both of them. Kamilah with her legs crossed and her eyes on a lot of papers that were in her hands, Karen pointed closely at them as if to inform her of the importance of each. I let out a small smile, everything had returned to normal. The only thing different was that golden ring on Kamilah's finger. Officially married, those were magic words that I would never forget and for me would never lose grace. We did not get traffic, the rest of the trip for home was with Kamilah and Karen arguing about work while I looked out the window.

I let out a relieved sigh when I saw our building. finally at home.

Two weeks later

I unlocked the door to the house, it had been days in a row that I had been at the hospital working. Finally I was at home. All I wanted was a shower, to lie on my bed and watch Netflix until I fell asleep. I threw the keys on the table and noticed that the lights were on, Kamilah was at home. I took off my shoes and left the bag in the armchair. It had been two full weeks of meetings, events, and interviews. Not to mention the shit of the paparazzis who followed us in every corner. Being married to Kamilah was almost the same as being married to a president with the attention I was receiving. As I walked around the house, Blue came up to greet me, I stroked his fuzzy head with a smile. I heard the voices of Kamilah and Karen in the suite.

"Set the meeting for Saturday night," Kamilah said quietly.

"Saturday you already have three interviews and Forbes asked to do a photoshoot as well." I heard Karen's voice. "And Hayley has to come to dinner on Friday."

"Where's Hayley going?" I asked putting my head into the room. They both looked at me. Kamilah was in the center of the room as a stylist stuffed her with pins as she fashioned a new suit for her. Karen paced back and forth with a stack of papers and her tablet.

"Oh, you're home. Great.” Kamilah smirked. "We’re leaving now," she informed me.

"What? Oh really? But I just got here.” I sat down on the couch in front of her.

“I know, but this dinner is going to be fast.”

"You could have warned me."

"I warned you on the weekend. Before I forget, you have an interview with the People staff, they called incessantly wanting to talk to you."

"What? But what should I say?” I looked at them, not knowing what to do.

"Oh, the same routine," Karen answered as she approached me and sat next to me. "They saw Kamilah as one of the most coveted singles in America and you were the only one who got her to the altar, they will ask you simple things like the plans you have, about your work, your time in London..." She explained patiently.

“I’m sure that Hayley is more than capable dealing with this.” Kamilah said. “Oh, and Karen, tell Addams that incompetent to send the report now. I do not want any more excuses, I need this for today.” I heard her voice and Karen left so hurriedly it seemed Kamilah had beaten her.

I put my hand over my face and looked at Kamilah over my glasses with that look of boredom she knew perfectly.

"You'll do well, Habibti," she said.

Manhattan streets 21h04pm

“And oh, god. Look at this machine!” Lily said excitedly looking all around, settling into the seat of my car. "Kamilah let you borrow? What an idiocy to say, of course she did! I can not believe we're riding a Range Rover!” She said happy and I could not help, but laughing.

"Uh, actually... Kamilah gave it to me," I said awkwardly, assuming the truth. "Wedding gift ... Something like that." I shrugged.

"What ?! Girl you're so lucky!” She said.

"Yeah. She even added when she gave me it was a car safe enough that I would not commit any stupidity," I said and Lily laughed.

“Tell me everything about your honeymoon! How was it? Italy is that good as they said? Did Kamilah make it worthy?” Lily asked and I laughed.

"Italy is great, the weather was great. Everything over there is beautiful, the food is wonderful.” I counted and nodded. "And yes, Kamilah made it worth every second of every night." I said, remembering all our moments in Italy.

The Mercedes AMG GT Roadster accelerated rapidly down the road at an absurd speed, my hair flying in the wind, the last rays of sun bending down the hill, notifying the evening. The sky was a beautiful orange color making it all more perfect. It's the perfect time for Kamilah and I to take a drive. I glanced sideways as the trees on the hills were left behind as the car flew down the road.

"Oh my god, Kamilah!” I screamed, letting my words drift away. Kamilah laughed, looking at her was like looking at the sky, the most perfect thing I had ever seen. She was smiling, with that perfect smile on her lips, her bright brown eyes, she was happy. She wore a blue beautiful dress and heels. It was so different to see her like that, unrestrained, loose and smiling. I think I finally managed to take some of the weight off the shoulders of the CEO. I had made the perfect choice to marry her.

"Our honeymoon was so perfect it's hard to realize we've got to get back to reality."

"A honeymoon with Kamilah, really sounds like paradise." Lily laughed in response.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Bitch, let's go to the mall!" She said excitedly.

Central Park 6h45am

It was supposed to be around six in the morning, when I woke up. I always woke up early to run. My shift only started at eight-thirty, which gave me the opportunity to run and go to the gym. I took Blue with me, so at six-forty-five I was in Central Park running with my dog, wearing a black top and tectel shorts with hair stuck in a ponytail.

I had stopped for a moment to take a breath while Blue was sniffing the grass next to me.

"Hayley look here!" I heard a male voice and looked up to see a man with a camera a few feet from me. Then I noticed that there was not only one, but several of them all in the park taking pictures of me. I rolled my eyes, it happened all month. Everywhere I went they went behind it was impressive. Last week Kamilah and I went out to dinner at a Japanese restaurant in the center of town and they were there. Even when I went to the market, they went behind, they looked like ants.

I sighed and kept walking, trying to ignore the eminent attention and flashes on my face.

"What's it like being married to one of New York's most famous and powerful women?" One of them shouted.

"Where's Kamilah?" Another shrieked as I passed them next.

“She is working and taking care of her own life. You guys should try.” I countered in response. Hearing a few giggles. Kamilah was not joking when she said they could be annoying. Now that I was married to her, I was getting more attention than I used to.

"Tell us what it's like to be married to a billionaire! Are you enjoying it?" I heard one shout before another shouted "Are you happy with all the attention you're getting from the media?"

"Not really." I answered back with another giggle in response. They had already spoiled what was to be a happy race with my dog, I kept walking quickly until I got to my car.

Met Gala Ball 19:30 pm.

It was part of my wife's duty to accompany her at least of almost every event. And as a wife's duty I had to familiarize myself with companies that partnered with Ahmanet Financial and potential investors. Kamilah discussed business the whole evening while middle-aged men’s who drank expensive whiskey and discussed possible worthy investments.

The first subject the reporters approached was our marriage, obvious. I was not surprised. The flashes hit our faces as several incredibly well-dressed people passed us. Kamilah was absolutely gorgeous in a long black dress that accentuated her body perfectly sized by Alexander McQueen. Her shiny brown hair was loose and she was beautifully made up with a necklace of blue jewels and bracelets around her wrists. She looked like a goddess. I, on the other hand, wore a red dress with full sleeves that gave contrast to her black dress. Detailedly made of lace rich in detail that accentuated my waist perfectly. Kamilah answered questions about her company calmly and occasionally laughing gracefully. They asked me questions about Kamilah, about my work as cardiologist, our plans and whether If I was happy.

"I’m just an ordinary girl who met someone the opposite of that," I said and they laughed. When the questions were over, Kamilah and I went hand in hand. "They are not joking around."

"I told you," Kamilah said looking around for the bar and finding Adrian. "You're a socialite now you should get used to it." I laughed.

"I'm not a socialite, my mother is."

"I'm sorry to inform you, but the moment you said ‘I do’ you agreed to be one." Kamilah said with a smile.

The dinner was great also, the event was great. But the best thing was about to happen now. I ran barefoot through the hall of the house without looking back, Kamilah pressed me against the wall before I could think of anything else.

"You're not going anywhere," she whispered into my ear before biting the earlobe to stimulate a hoarse, low moan of mine. Feel her skin in contact with mine was the best feeling of all, I inhaled her scent as she distributed kisses by the length of my neck, pulled her mouth to mine and kissed her fiercely. Kamilah bit my lower lip, letting out some blood, before invading my mouth with her tongue. I jumped into her lap, tightening my legs around her waist, fingers curled into her hair as I kissed her with passion. Kamilah tried to take off my dress blindly, I tried to get rid of her dress too, but it became even more difficult when you're feeling like a teenager, ready to have sex for the first time with your crush and the your hormones are driving you crazy for her. Kamilah carried me easily into the bedroom, we stumbled at the door in the middle of the way where I had managed to take my dress off successfully, before Kamilah lay on the bed getting over me. I tightened my legs around her hip glueing my body with hers. Needing to feel that contact of our skins together. As she took it off her heels, she quickly did the same with her dress. When we were just in underwear kissing passionately I called her:

"Kamilah?” I called her by feeling her lips on my neck, kissing him hard.

"Mm?" She replied, her mouth in mine now.

"I'm so happy," I said breathlessly between kisses.

"You're just horny," she replied.

"Both." I said with a smile between the kiss.

Mount Sinai Hospital 17:30 pm

"Did you see that trachea? No wonder the heart was in that state for a few more months and she would not be able to handle such surgery,” I said as I walked down the hallway with Richard, my pediatrician colleague. We were able to save a child today, I was happy to have saved a life from a child who was almost dying.

"At least we know she's going to live. It was a good job today, we should celebrate in the cafeteria with coffee." He said and I laughed.

"A coffee sounds perfect now. Go there and wait for me, I still need to get the medical records for the nurse,” I said as we continued on to different corridors.

"Dr. O'Connell, I just wanted to say that it was an honor to take part in that surgery with you. It was incredible!” My intern followed me with his notes, today I had let him watch the surgery.

I took off my gloves and threw them in a trash in the right hall. I stopped and looked at him.

"I think it's time to tell Emily's parents that she's going to go to her room in a few minutes. If you want go and tell them and please get the files to Nancy." I handed it to him and he nodded.

“Don’t forget you have another surgery in a few minutes. I was thinking if...” He start fumbling with the words, I already knew where he was going with this.

“If I let you to watch again?” I asked.

“Y-Yeah. Of course with your permission.”

“Sure. Why not? Meet me there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you!” He smiled.

Kamilah’s pov penthouse 7h01am

Hayley had spent the last 36 hours at the hospital working. I knew she was just awake because of caffeine, having dinner and lunch in the hospital cafeteria. I received messages from her saying that she would have to extend her shift because she had new patients and could not stop paying attention to them, check them every hour. I kept wondering if she was coming home soon, but I knew she had to make up for the days we spent away, just like I was doing. But despite not being in New York, I managed to work even from a distance so there were not many things that I was outdated about. In fact, there were none. Only questions from the council that Adrian had brought me up as soon as I arrived. Nothing important.

I was sitting at the table having breakfast that our maid Maria had made. Hayley's dog kept lying under the table near my feet while eating a little bone that she had bought for him. As I read the news in the paper, I heard the sound of keys against the door. She had arrived. Finally. The dog ran madly to greet her. I could hear her laugh.

I heard her footsteps until she emerged. I could see the weariness on her face. There were small dark circles around her green eyes. She had a sleepy expression. Her blond hair was a little messy as long, I knew she got her hands on it, she did it a lot when she was anxious. Hayley wore a blue shirt beneath a gray sweatshirt and jeans. Her cross bag was on her shoulder and with her other hand she had a cup of coffee.

"Look who just turned up. Good morning, wife.” I said taking a sip of coffee. She giggled and left her bag in the chair.

"Good Morning." She messed with me smiling. She kissed me and tried to pulled away, but I brought her close to another kiss. "Is this coffee fresh?"

"Mary just did it. You're smelling like disinfectant.” I observed and she smelled her t-shirt, before shrugging.

"I can not drink that” she said filling her glass with orange juice. Hayley sat down in front of me and filled her plate with pancakes.

"Are you going back to the hospital?" I asked.

“No god. My shift is over. I just left from a surgery now. Do you know how many I operated on yesterday? 8. 3 died.” She told me. Hayley spoke of death so naturally as if she were a friend of hers.

“I asked Bryan to take the dog later to the pet shop."

"What does he have?" Hayley peered under the table.

"Anything. He just need a bath. Linda is coming to clean the house today,” I informed her, filling my mug with more coffee. Hayley left her pancake dish empty.

"Please tell her not to clean our room. I want to sleep.” She got up and went into the bedroom. I heard the sound of the bed as she threw herself into it. I sighed and got up holding my coat as I followed her into the bedroom. I could hear perfectly the rhythm of her heartbeat and her breaths in the dark. I turned the switch softly until there was light enough so that it would not bother her. I saw across the room Hayley sleeping still in her work clothes clinging to a pillow.

"Lily called." I sat beside her on the bed. "She could not talk to you so she called me. She said it was important."

"I'll call her later." She replied with her eyes closed.

"I think I'd better call her now. She was very desperate.” I picked up her phone and handed it to her. Hayley sighed and took the cell phone. "Do not sleep too much. I come back for dinner.” I kissed her cheek and got up to leave.

"Lily, what's up?" I could listen Hayley’s voice on the room when I got to the door.

Hayley’s pov

“Lily, what's up?” I asked rubbing my eyes when she answered my call.

"Hayley! I'm glad you called me, I've been calling you all day. Something terrible happened!” Lily said. “Our apartment is destroyed!”

[deekersdiaperpage1988]

Bill"

BY CODY MATTHEW JAMES

III 2/8/05 Chapter 1 HOW WE MET BILL This story is purely fictional. Any relation of names to anyone living or dead is purely coincidence. All chapters must be read in order to maintain the context of this story. ENJOY! C.M.J. III "Here, let me help you with that," the voice sprang up from behind me. I lost my grip on the mattress my mom and I were moving into our new apartment. "You shouldn't be moving something that heavy ma'dam," the man said to my mom. I turned to see a guy walk past me and take the front end of the mattress from my mother's hands. "You shouldn't be using those lovely hands in that manner." "Oh…we really don't need any help…sir." my mom said. "My name is Bill," he said as he helped me carry the mattress into our apartment. "Scotty and I can handle moving our furniture Mr.…Bill," my mom said. "I've got a few minutes so I can give you a hand Miss…Mrs…" "Mrs. McCormick." my mom filled in. "And where would you like us to put this fine mattress Mrs. McCormick." Bill asked. "Through the hall, bedroom on the right please." "Done." Bill said. We placed the mattress on the box spring and walked back into the living room. "By the way, my name is Bill Stiles. I live in apartment 22 G, upstairs Mrs. McCormick." "Oh, please call me Jeanne." "I think Scotty and I can take care of the rest of the furniture Bill," my mom said as she put the pillows on the couch. "Nonsense Mrs. McCormick, I mean Jeanne. I just got off work and I was going to do my weight lifting when I got home. If I help Scotty bring in the rest of the furniture, I will be killing two birds with one stone." My mom blushed when Bill winked at her. "Come on Scotty. We can have this done in a few minutes." Bill said as he placed his hand on my shoulder and led me back out the front door. When we got to the carport, Bill took off his dark brown sports jacket and laid it on the front seat of my mom's car. I grabbed the last box of kitchen utensils and watched Bill pick up the heavy coffee table. I could see his arm muscles bulge inside his light blue long sleeve shirt as he lifted the table up and start walking to the apartment. "What do you do for a living Scotty?" Bill asked me as we walked down the long hallway. "I..." "Don't tell me...My E.S.P. says you are in the U.S. Air Force and you're a pilot in one of those jet fighters." "No, I'm..." "I know. You're an adviser for President Bush, right?" Bill asked. "No, I go to..." "You're a world famous college professor and you took some time off so you could help you mother move. Right." Bill interrupted me again. "NO! I go to school." I answered quickly. "Oh. Which school do you go to Scotty, Cal Tech, U.S.C., U.C.L.A.? "No, I will be going to Lone Hill elementary school this fall." "You're pulling my leg Scotty. I thought you were about twenty two years old." "When was the last time you saw a four foot almost one inch tall twenty two year old Bill?" "Last week I saw a three foot tall three year old." Bill said as we walked into the apartment. As we entered the apartment, Bill said "I take it Mrs. McCormick, the coffee table goes in front of the sofa." "You shouldn't have carried the heavy table all by yourself Bill...Scotty, why didn't you give him a hand?" Before I could answer my mom, Bill said "He's the supervisor. You can't ask the supervisor to give you a hand Mrs. McCormick." I really liked Bill now I thought to myself, he had a sense of humor and a great imagination. 'Let's go and finish off that trailer so your mom can get it back to the rental yard sport." Bill said. As we headed back out the door I told Bill "I'll see you out back in a minute. I need to do something first." "Okay see you out back Scotty." As Bill was heading to the carport, I went to my bedroom. When I looked in, I was glad my mom didn't make me take the sheet off the mattress this morning so she could wash it. The last thing I wanted Bill to find out was that I wet my bed. "Mom, don't take the sheet off my bed. I'll wash it later." I was glad that it was dark last night when we moved my bed and dresser over here from our old apartment. No one saw us move it in. We kind of snuck it in last night so they would not see the stains on my mattress. I had a great time my last night at our old apartment, sleeping in a sleeping bag with my best friends Matt and Kyle. It was kind of a going away party last night for my mom and me at our old apartment. I was going to miss Matt and Kyle, but my mom said there were some kids living in our new apartment building that were about the same age as me. If Bill looked into my room, all he would see is a mattress with a sheet on it that needed a blanket, and bedspread. "Bill, are there any kids in this apartment building about my age?" I asked as I caught up to him. "Kevin lives next door to me. He's about eight years old." "I was thinking about someone about eleven to twelve years old." "Well, there is a boy, his name is Samone. He lives upstairs in the rear about here." Bill said as he pointed to the ceiling over his head. "How old is he?" "He's about your age Scotty, eleven or twelve, but I need to tell you something about him first." "What?" Bill turned so he was facing me. "Samone is what they call mentally challenged. Do you know what that means Scotty?" "Sure, it means his brain is not working like it normally should." "I couldn't have said it better myself Scotty." "I had to work with some kids like that when we were filming a commercial for a PBS station one time." I told Bill "You're in commercials Scotty?" "Yeah, my mom tries to get me modeling jobs and some commercials every now and then to make ends meet as she says." "What kind of commercials have you done?" Bill asked as we walked back to the apartment. "Did you ever see a commercial about life insurance, almost five years ago. The husband and wife were talking about getting more life insurance as they stood over a crib looking at the kid sleeping." "Can't really say I did." "Oh, the camera was on me all the time and you could only hear the parent's voices in the back ground. They never showed the parents at all." "And the boy turns over onto his side and puts his thumb in his mouth?" Bill said. "Right, my thumb and mouth." Bill stopped in the hallway, and as I stood there for a second, he studied me. "That was you in the commercial Scotty. I remember those eyes." "Yeah, I did that one when I was six years old" "How did you land the job?" "My mom needed some money to make the rent, and they couldn't get any of the other kids to turn onto their side on cue. I was in the same studio auditioning for a shoe commercial when the life insurance sponsor saw me." "Did you get the shoe commercial too?" "No, my feet were too small, but with the insurance commercial we made the rent for about six months." "What about the PBS commercial, what was that about?" "That was a freebee my mom says. She wanted to get me more exposure on TV, so I was in a commercial about autism. It was entitled 'I have feelings too' "Sounds like you have had an interesting life so far Scotty." "What do you do for a living Bill?" "I'm into advertising, drawing up advertisements for a wine company, and I do advertising for some beer companies, too." "Need an almost eleven year old beer pusher?" "No, but we are expanding into some different fields this fall. How are you mechanically?" "I like to take things apart to see how they work, why?" "We just branched out into mechanical field last week. Think you could hold up the golden gate bridge in your hands Scotty?" "In one hand with my other tied behind my back." I said jokingly. "Where would you like me to put these lamps Mrs., I mean Jeanne?" "Those two go on either side of the couch, and that one goes in Scotty's bedroom." my mom answered. "I'll take that to my room Bill." I said as I put the last box down on the couch, and then Bill handed me the lamp. I took the lamp to my room and put it down on the nightstand. As I looked around the room, I saw the sliding closet door was open. When I looked down at the cardboard box, it was clearly marked: Diapers and plastic pants. I closed the closet door quickly slamming it against the doorstop. "Scotty, are you okay in there?" "Yeah, these closet doors close so easy, not like the ones at our old apartment." As I walked back into the living room, Bill was at the front door waiting for me. As we headed out back one last time, I asked Bill about swimming in the pool. He told me it was for the tenants and their guests use only, and the pool was heated year round. I ask him about the blond girl I saw swimming in the pool last weekend when my mom and I came over to sign the rental agreement. Bill told me her name was Cathy, and she was going to start collage this fall. When Bill saw the interest I was showing in learning more about her, he said that maybe he could get her to baby sit me sometime. I told Bill that I was almost eleven, but in my mind, I wouldn't mind her babysitting me anytime no matter how old I was. It was almost noon before Bill and I finished unloading the trailer and car. Everything was now in our new apartment. My mom thanked Bill and told him she was going to take him out to dinner as soon as we were settled for all his help. "I guess I'd better hit the road so you and Scotty can get settled in Jeanne." Bill said. "Bill. I'll walk out with you. I need to move my car." my mom said. As they left, I looked around the apartment. It was a big mess, but we were finally moved in. I went to my room and lay down on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. I was so tired from being up early this morning. "Hey kid, crashing on me?" "No, I'm just tired from all this moving." "I need to get the trailer back, and I thought we could do lunch at McDonalds after." my mom said. "Naw, I thought I would take a nap for awhile. I guess the hot weather got to me." "Hey, are you coming down with something Scotty? My mom asked as she felt my forehead. "I don't think so." "You do have a little temp. Maybe you had better take a nap." I turned over on my side when my mom said "You forgetting something Scotty?" 'Mom, do I have to?" "Yes, we can't afford to buy you a new mattress yet, and besides, you don't have the mattress protector on your bed yet." I turned over onto my back and just lay there. "You're going to make me do all the work ,you little stinker?" "Do you like Bill?" I asked her "He's nice and pleasant…Where are your diapers, baby?" "In the closet on the left……What did you talk to Bill about when you went to move the car?" "Oh, a bunch of everything." "Like what?" "I told him I was looking for a sitter for you Scotty." "But mom, I'm almost eleven years old, I don't need a sitter." "Remember what we talked about last week?" "Yeah, I know you're working more hours but…." "No buts. Some nights I'll be getting home late, and I don't want anything bad to happen to my bright, good looking, honest, hard working sweet, precious, baby." "Aw mom." "What, you aren't my sweet precious baby?' she said as she took out two cloth diapers and a pair of plastic pants from the box in the closet. "If Matt and Kyle ever heard that sweet precious thing, I would be dead meat at school…..or would have been, for an entire year." "Aw my poor little boy." she said as she pulled my pants down as I lay there on the bed. After she took my pull-ups off, she slipped the double cloth diaper under me and pinned it, then pulled the plastic pants over my feet, up and over my diapers. "You have a good nap, and I'll take the trailer back. Be back in a while Scotty and do not answer the door." I turned over onto my stomach and went to sleep. I woke up when I heard the sound of a pan hit the floor in the kitchen. I looked over at the window to make sure it was still open. It seemed awful hot in my bedroom, and it was weird that no one was in the swimming pool outside my bedroom window on this hot Sunday. When I reached down to my crotch, I felt the wetness. It was a good idea to diaper me before my nap, otherwise it would mean me sleeping on the couch again tonight while my mattress dried out. I got up off the bed and went into the kitchen to see what was up. "About time you woke up Scotty. I thought I was going to have to wake you up to tell you it was bedtime." "I guess I was more tired then I thought." "How do you feel?" "Okay I guess." My mom felt my forehead "Your temperature is up." "Aw, I feel okay." "You go over to the couch and lay down. I'll go get the thermometer and a blanket for you. Now move." I went over to the TV to get the remote, then to the couch and lay down as my mom returned. "Let's put this in your mouth, or would you like it in the other end?" she teased me as she put the thermometer in my mouth. She put the blanket over me as I fidgeted. "Need to have your diaper changed?" "Naw, it's okay." "You're telling me the truth Scotty?" "I need a change." I replied. "Cloth diapers or pull-on diapers?" "Cloth diapers." I answered. I kind of figured that my mom knew that I didn't mind wearing diapers since I had so many wetting accidents, As long as I can remember, my mom had tried to get me into diaper commercials. The last one I tried out for was a holiday print disposable diaper after I had turned seven years old. I felt so embarrassed until I saw the other kids trying out. Compared to them I was one of the smaller ones. When I had a sleep over at my house with Matt and Kyle last year, I didn't know how I was going to get my diaper on without them knowing. When my mom said it was bedtime, Matt asked me if my mom diapered me or if I did it myself. I was shocked that he knew, then he told me he could smell the pee, and the baby powder just like in his baby brother's room. Then Matt told me that Kyle still wet his bed, and that he liked to wear diapers too. After Kyle and I were diapered by my mom, Matt walked back into my bedroom from the bathroom, naked, and asked if he could join the diaper party. My mom put a double diaper on him, but Matt never admitted he liked to wear diapers like Kyle and I do. When I saw Matt's erection, I knew he liked wearing diapers. "All done" my mom said. I felt more comfortable now with a dry diaper on. My mom took the thermometer out of my mouth "You do have a temperature, kid. Looks like your going to have to take it easy tomorrow." "I wanted to help unpack mom." "If your temp gets any higher, I'll have to take you to the doctor. Now, how about some dinner." "Like what?" "Since you didn't want McDonalds this afternoon, I got us some fish and chips." "When do we eat?" I said as I sat up quickly. Fish and chips were my favorite, even over hamburgers. "It's almost five o'clock now, how about in ten minutes?" When I smiled at her, she knew my answer. As we sat on the couch eating dinner and watching TV, my mom said "About your sitter, I talked to the apartment manager and he suggested that I hire Cathy Heather to look after you until school starts this fall. How do you feel about that Scotty?" I still thought that I was too old for a baby sitter, but when she mentioned Cathy, I was for that. "I guess its okay." I said. It was nine o'clock when I went to bed. Mom changed my damp diaper, and put clean sheets on my bed. She tucked me in, then kissed me on the forehead. I laid there after the light went out thinking about Matt and Kyle. They were probably sitting in front of the TV playing with Matt's game boy "Hey baby, going to sleep all morning?" my mommy asked as she sat down on my bed "Huh?' I said as I turned onto my back. "Need to take your temp, and by the way, Cathy is here to meet you." "Mom, I'm still in my…." "Hi Scotty. I'm Cathy Heather. I'll…" I pulled the covers over my head as fast as I could. "Looks like you have a shy son Mrs. McCormick." "Not really, we just caught him at a bad time." "Come on Scotty, let's see those pretty hazel eyes your mom told me about." Cathy said. "No." "I think he's embarrassed because he slept in his bare necessity's last night Cathy." "So we have a little Moglie here, you know, the boy from the Jungle book story." Cathy said "I think your right Cathy." "Scotty, I've been baby sitting most of my life, and I've seen everything." "Wanna bet." I said under my breath. "Come on Scotty, I need to take your temperature now, OR WE COULD DO IT THE OTHER WAY." my mom threatened. I pulled the sheet and blanket down to my neck, and there she stood. That beautiful blond haired girl that, some how I had fallen madly in love with even thought I'd only seen her once in her yellow bikini. Those blue eyes looking down at me and the perfect smile on that goddess sent tingles through my body. Her breasts were just the perfect size to match her fantastic body. "Are you done checking her out Scotty?' my mom asked. "Yeaaaah,…I mean no…..I mean I wasn't checking her out." "Sure, now if you could roll that tongue back into your mouth, I could put the thermometer under it." my mom remarked I felt my face getting red as Cathy was giggling while she looked around my room. "I will see you Wednesday morning Scotty…… Mrs. McCormick, I need to take off to sign up for my collage classes now. We can talk later, if we need too." Cathy said. "Thanks for stopping by Cathy, and please call me Jeanne." "Adios Scotty." Cathy said as she left. When I heard the front door close behind her, I said "Mom, why did you invite Cathy over so early. I'm still in my diaper, and the last thing I want her to find out…..Mom, did you already tell her that I wear diapers?" "No baby, I was going to leave that up to you." "How am I going to get ready for bed Wednesday night without her finding out?" "You can always say goodnight, come to your room, and put them on yourself sweetheart." "Yeah, I guess I wasn't thinking. How's my temperature mom?" "It's down, but not enough for you to mess around today. I want you on that couch watching TV, understand." "Yeah." "Let's get you changed. What do you want to wear today?" "Pull-ups." "Which ones?" she asked as she went thru my dresser. "Surprise me." I had my plastic pants down, and my diaper off when she came back to my bed with the pull-ups "Pretty soon you won't be able to wear these anymore, but you will always be my little baby." "Aw mom." "Ready for some breakfast?" "Steak and eggs?" "In your dreams kid, cereal and milk." After I had breakfast, I lay down on the couch and watched TV. My mom was busy putting things away in our new apartment. I felt so guilty just laying there. "Mom, I'm bored. Can I help?" "No, I want you in tip top condition Wednesday when Cathy is here. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Cathy was a swim instructor at a school. Maybe she can teach you how to swim better." "I swim okay now that Mrs. Santos taught me last summer." "You could still us some improvement Scotty. Dog paddling is not what you call swimming." When it was lunchtime, my mommy made soup and sandwiches for us. After dinner, my mom surprised me with a warm bath then we watched the movie Daddy Day Care. My mom exchanged my pull-ups for a double diaper. Mom said my temp was near normal that night. When I woke up on Tuesday morning, I felt weird. I didn't know what it was until I rolled over onto my back and felt it squish up into my butt crack. When my mom came in, she knew what had happened by the smell. I was so embarrassed, but she led me to the bathroom and cleaned me up. She didn't ask me what I wanted to wear that day, she just put one of my bed wetter diapers on me and then a pair of plastic pants. I was confined to the couch most of the day watching cartoons while I still had a slight temp. By the time dinner rolled around, all the cardboard boxes were in the trash, and we were in our new apartment. As we sat done on the couch for dinner that night, my mom gave me the rules when Cathy was there. "When Cathy is here tomorrow, I want you to behave, and do everything she tells you to do. Don't argue with her. Try and be helpful because she is baby-sitting you for a lot less pay then I paid Mrs. Santos. Cathy also mentioned that she might be baby-sitting another child while she watches you Scotty. You can go to her apartment as long as she is there. Her apartment and Bill's are safe houses, remember what I told you about safe houses?" "Yeah, if I need help immediately I go to a safe house." I said. "Bill usually works nights, so he might be home during the daytime, and if you can't get to a safe house when you need one, what do you do?" "Yell fire as loud as I can, over and over." I replied. "You learn well." "I know, I was taught by the best teacher I know." I said as I looked into my mom's eyes. My mom started blushing until I said "Miss. Sweeney, my first grade teacher." My mom hit me upside my head with the pillow that I was using on the couch. "Get your butt in on your bed so I can get you ready for bed." my mom said then smiled. I grabbed my pillow and went to my room. "Baby, get one of the extra large towels and spread it on your bed." "Are you going to give me a massage tonight?" I yelled back. "Yes, I thought you might like one after all this moving we did." "I will." I said as I took out a towel out of the hall closet and spread it on my bed, then I took out two cloth diapers out of my dresser drawer then laid them on the bed. My mommy helped me get undressed and then she put all my clothes in the clothes hamper, except the plastic pants. I lay down on my bed on my stomach as she sat down on the bed beside me. "Warm baby lotion?" I asked her. "Of course, nothing but the best for my kid. Got to take your temp again, too." I laid my head down on my pillow and opened my mouth, then I felt the thermometer being inserted into my rear end. "MOM!" "Miss. Sweeney the best teacher you ever had huh?" "I was just pulling your leg mom!" "I know, but I just wanted to talk to you." "About what?" I asked as she started massaging the warm baby lotion into my shoulders. "Wanted to thank you for all your help this last week. I know that you didn't want to move and leave all your friends behind, but you never complained once." "Think Mrs. Santa Clause might be able to get me a game boy this Christmas? I don't even care if it is used." "I'll talk to her personally about that baby." Mom worked her way down my back to my rear, then down my legs with the warm lotion. When she was done, she took the thermometer out and read the temp. "Ninety-nine point eight degrees, you should be back to normal by morning." I turned onto my back as she slipped the diapers under my rear. "I sure hope that Cathy baby sitting you works out sweetheart." she said as she massaged warm baby lotion on my chest. "Do you think I might get any modeling jobs or commercials before school starts, I really don't care what they are." "I still have you listed with the Freedman agency, and you know where your portfolios are,." 'Yeah, in the right hand drawer of the desk." Mom was working on my front diaper area when she said "Looks like someone is anxious to get his diaper on." She finished my massage when I asked "What time do you leave in the morning mom?" "Early. Why?" "I just wanted to say goodbye tomorrow morning before you left, that's all." "Tell you what. I'll stick my head in and see if you are awake, okay?" She asked as she finished pulling the plastic pants up over my diaper. She tucked me into bed, gave me a kiss, and then gathered up the lotion and the towels as she headed towards the door. I'll see you tomorrow baby." she said as she turned off the light. "MOM" "Yes Scotty?" "I love you." "I love you too baby. Sweet dreams." I turned onto my stomach and laid there. I got to thinking about Matt, Kyle, and Mrs Santos and started crying softly. It had been such a scary and sometimes good week. My old friends were miles and miles away from me now. I wondered what was Cathy like? Was she strict, or did she like to have fun? I could no longer ride my bike down to my mom's work anymore like I use to, especially when I needed to talk to her. Her work was a lot further away from our new apartment now. And now that Matt and Kyle lived so far away, who was going to restrain me from tearing up the world like Matt use to do when I lost my temper. Who was going to sit and listen to me when I felt like talking like Kyle use to do? And Mrs. Santos, she was like a grandmother to me. I missed all of them so much now, and I was so scared. I buried my face in my pillow and cried some more. END OF CHAPTER 1

[flauntpage]

Your Wednesday Morning Roundup

If you’re on the Flyers and you’re name isn’t Claude Giroux, Sean Couturier, Jake Voracek, Shayne Gostisbehere, or Ivan Provorov, chances are you can’t score.

It happened again Tuesday night against the Vancouver Canucks in a 5-2 loss. Provorov and Voracek scored the two goals. Michal Neuvirth stopped 18 of 22 shots in 34:26 of work. He got pulled after the fourth goal midway through the second period. He looked awful last night, along with the rest of the team.

What’s it going to take for the Flyers to get their mojo back?

The moves may have begun on defense. There’s a chance Mark Alt gets replaced by Sam Morin on the defense. He was seen carrying his sticks and bag when leaving the arena last night. On offense, Matt Read has cleared waivers, but he has not been sent down to Lehigh Valley just yet.

Flyers are back in action tonight in Brooklyn against the Islanders. Puck drop is set for 7 pm on NBC Sports Philadelphia +.

Before we begin with the roundup, make sure you get your tickets for our Ugly Christmas Sweater party happening next Saturday.

The Roundup:

Former Eagles Brian Dawkins and Terrell Owens are Pro Football Hall of Fame semifinalists:

.@BrianDawkins and @terrellowens have been named @ProFootballHOF semifinalists for the Class of 2018.#FlyEaglesFly http://pic.twitter.com/iMCDwBG1Xk

— Philadelphia Eagles (@Eagles) November 22, 2017

The Eagles return to practice today, and Alshon Jeffery is enjoying his year in Philadelphia:

Jeffery is letting his personality show, too. He has been an active member of the Eagles’ touchdown celebrations, and he was animated during the second half of the Cowboys game. (The gist of the explicit message was that teams shouldn’t mess with the Eagles, and that they were the best.)

At least publicly, Jeffery is playing down the Bears game. He enjoyed his time there, but he said he’s in Philadelphia, the Eagles are winning, and it’s just the next game. Reich said when a player plays against a former team, there’s always emotion to guard against it. Reich experienced it as a player. The Bears haven’t allowed a 100-yard receiver since Week 3, so Jeffery will be challenged against a defensive system he knows well. But looking at the Bears offense, they could use a player like Jeffery — no receiver has more than 330 yards there.

At the conclusion of the Bears’ three-win 2016 season, Jeffery told reporters, “I guarantee you we’re going to win the Super Bowl next year.” Asked about the comment on Tuesday, Jeffery interjected with a smile.

“I never said a team, though,” Jeffery said.

The defensive line isn’t the only line playing with some emotion.

Special teams guru Chris Maragos enjoyed Kamu Grugier-Hill’s kicking on Sunday.

The Eagles and Sportsradio 94WIP agreed to a new seven-year extension to broadcast Eagles games on the station.

Finally, Eagle hater Nick Wright is back at it. He went to Syracuse (where I go now), and by god does he look like a Syracuse journalism graduate. He definitely was one of those really annoying kids when he was on campus.

—

The Sixers take on the Portland Trail Blazers tonight at 7 pm on NBC Sports Philadelphia. Point guard Damian Lillard thinks the Sixers should be respected across the league:

“I think in the past we took them lightly. They kind of jumped out and played hard and they beat us,” Lillard said following a Tuesday-evening practice at the Sixers training complex in Camden. “This year, you have no choice but to respect what they’ve done and how they’re playing. They’re not doing it like it’s luck, they’re out there hooping.”

Lillard sprained his right ankle in the second quarter Monday night against the Grizzlies. He returned in the second half and helped the Trail Blazers earn a 100-92 victory on the first of a five-game road trip.

The second game of that trip takes place on Wednesday at the Wells Fargo Center against the Sixers.

Joel Embiid isn’t worried about his trash talk motivating opponents.

Let’s recap Monday night’s fun win over the Utah Jazz.

Ben Simmons has an important question to ask:

Should @sixers bring back the old school black jerseys???

— Ben Simmons (@BenSimmons25) November 22, 2017

—

Some details were released in Roy Halladay’s deadly plane crash

–.

In college basketball, Penn fell to Towson 78-71 in the Gulf Coast Showcase. They take on University of Missouri-Kansas City today.

Also today, No. 5 Villanova takes on Western Kentucky in the Battle 4 Atlantis, and La Salle takes on No. 11 Miami (FL) in Reading.

—

In other sports news, Jerry Jones will not sue the NFL over Roger Goodell’s contract. But he’s not stopping his crusade entirely:

Though he has stepped back from embroiling the league in a costly and embarrassing legal fight, Jones is not done trying to influence the outcome of the contract extension. In his letter, he said he was trying to “prevent more damage to the league. He noted that television ratings had continued to decline, demand for tickets had fallen, and there was more “discontent amongst our fans than ever before.”

He said the league office had an inflated staff and budget, sponsors believed the league had “credibility issues” and the league had spent too much time fighting players in court.

This week’s College Football Playoff rankings has Miami jumping to No. 2:

Fourth #CFBPlayoff Rankings: Top 2️⃣5️⃣ for games played through November 18 http://pic.twitter.com/8nowa91muv

— College Football Playoff (@CFBPlayoff) November 22, 2017

The “Japanese Babe Ruth”, Shohei Ohtani, will be able to sign with an MLB team in December.

Missouri freshman Michael Porter Jr. will miss the remainder of this season after undergoing back surgery:

Statement from #Mizzou:

Michael Porter, Jr. will undergo surgery on Tuesday, Nov. 21, in Dallas, Texas. The procedure, a microdiscectomy of the L3-L4 spinal discs, has a projected recovery time of three-four months and will likely cause him to miss the remainder of the season.

— Mizzou Basketball (@MizzouHoops) November 21, 2017

He played only two minutes in a Tiger uniform, but he’ll probably be a top five pick in the 2018 NBA Draft.

After breaking rules for signing amateur players, the Atlanta Braves lost 12 prospects to free agency and former general manager John Coppolella has been banned for life.

The LaVar Ball-Donald Trump feud continues:

It wasn’t the White House, it wasn’t the State Department, it wasn’t father LaVar’s so-called people on the ground in China that got his son out of a long term prison sentence – IT WAS ME. Too bad! LaVar is just a poor man’s version of Don King, but without the hair. Just think..

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) November 22, 2017

…LaVar, you could have spent the next 5 to 10 years during Thanksgiving with your son in China, but no NBA contract to support you. But remember LaVar, shoplifting is NOT a little thing. It’s a really big deal, especially in China. Ungrateful fool!

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) November 22, 2017

Trump also tweeted out his thoughts about the NFL, again:

The NFL is now thinking about a new idea – keeping teams in the Locker Room during the National Anthem next season. That’s almost as bad as kneeling! When will the highly paid Commissioner finally get tough and smart? This issue is killing your league!…..

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) November 22, 2017

Mike Leach with some great wedding advice:

It’s rivalry week. #WSU is one win away from the @pac12 title game.

But a reporter getting married in 9 days asked @Coach_Leach for wedding advice tonight, and Leach’s answer was incredible. I’m dying. http://pic.twitter.com/alhOiWd9Tv

— Aaron Levine (@AaronQ13Fox) November 22, 2017

Klay Thompson isn’t a big fan of scaffolding in New York City.

—

In the news, today’s the big travel day for the Thanksgiving holiday.

Uber paid hackers about $100,000 to keep a massive data breach from last year secret. That affected about 57 million riders.

CBS and PBS have fired Charlie Rose after harassment allegations were published Monday.

“The Partridge Family” star David Cassidy died last night at the age of 67.

Tommy Hilfiger thinks model Gigi Hadid could be the key to peace in the Middle East.

Your Wednesday Morning Roundup published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[lukegoestoolivegarden]

Visit 14 - Circles

My car smells like a wet wookie.

That’s not a euphemism, it’s not an exaggeration. It really does smell like wet wookie. Well or at least a wet wookie onesie.

The skies opened up about the same time they started to lighten up, the last few minutes pre-dawn filled with lightening flashing across the sky often enough that I could shut off my head lamp. It also had me wondering if I was going to get Caddyshacked both hands clasping a metal awning, frantically trying to put it up before the rain began turning the Natchez Aid Station into a mud pit.

The race was a looped course - in this case around 17 miles - meaning that runners would be stopping by for Coke and PB&J one, two, or three times depending on which race they were doing. 

The rain let up enough that we could get the supplies unloaded from the truck - cases of water, cans of boiled potatoes, bottles of salt pills - and I slid into the Chewbacca onesie and talking Chewbacca mask (”It’s not me making that noise, it’s the mask!”) as the first runners came blasting through the course, mud splattered over their legs and in the case of more than a few runners who decided to take an impromptu mud bath, most of the rest of their bodies.

(Chewbacca only lasted for a couple of hours, the ongoing drizzle making it a feel and smell like the inside of a tauntaun since apparently I’m dealing in Star Wars metaphors tonight. Travis made an appearance later on in the day, working the drinks table like a pre-historic Ted Lange, Jur-Isaac)

When it comes to ultrarunning there are two main types of courses - point-to-point and looped. Running point-to-point, or it’s closely related cousin the out-and-back, it can be incredibly hard to keep track of where you are especially if it’s not a course that you’ve run before. The flipside is that once you go up that one f^&#*-ing hill, you’re done with it for the rest of the race. For a looped course, flip flop the pros and cons. That giant hill? Yep, you’re going to be seeing it again. And again. And potentially again.

The shorter the course, the more this is magnified. At FANS, the course is just a bit over two miles (quoted at 2.14 miles, but the real distance goes several decimal points further). And by lap 20 I hated the sharp left hand turn that climbed up a gravel hill topped with an ever-present mud puddle (seriously, I ran out there at least five times in training and every single time the course was dry except for that section). 46 laps through that stupid puddle during those 24 hours.

But I also love looped courses. The constant feedback of knowing that I need to get to the start of the fence next to the lake in 17 minutes to stay on the pace I need for my goal. Knowing that it’s exactly 0.7 miles from the sewer grate back down to the road crossing. The hike up the gravel hill and through the mud puddle should take 1:05. I like to think of loop races like Scooby Doo episodes - each one is slightly different, but in the end you know the swamp/fire/mud monster is just going to end up being Old Man Witherbee. It’s the same thing every time, even if Scrappy Doo is there.

Repetition doesn’t make them easier - you’re zooming (okay fine, plodding) along past a nice comfy chair, a warm dry tent, a cooler full of beer every few laps, fighting to focus on the lap and ignoring that there’s another 8 hours of inexplicably tripping over the same rock (I actually stopped at about 2 am to move a rock that I had tripped over four times despite the trail being wide enough that you could drive a car down it). It’s knowing there’s nothing new to see. Nowhere else to go. You can stop any time and you’re only a few minutes from cracking open a beer.

Which makes what my friend Harvey just did even more impressive. There’s a small, but growing, format of races that aren’t distance based (like the Superior 100, though that’s actually 103 miles long) or time based (like the FANS 24 hour), but that are more ambiguous, the ZIggy Stardust to other races Thin White Duke. 

In the last runner standing format, the race is over when only one racer is able or willing to continue. The best known of these is the “Big Dog Backyard Ultra” which challenges runners to do a 4.1666 mile loop (”Whoa whoa whoa, what’s with all the precision on your measurements? Chill out dudes. Sincerely, NASA”)  in an hour. Cool, easy enough right? Yup, then keep doing it every hour on the hour.

Or in Harvey’s case, 58 straight hours - 241.6 miles worth of running in circles. And sadly, every one of those loops wasn’t enough, as he finally laid down his proverbial sword, finishing not in 2nd place, but tied for last place with everybody else but the winner. To quote Ricky Bobby, if you’re not first, you’re last. 

Life is full of circles, and not just the flat circles that Rust Cohle likes to talk about while chugging down yet another Lone Star. Monday your alarm goes off early and you stumble into the office. The trash goes out on Friday. Quarterly all-hands meetings where they rattle off the financials with an undercurrent of “Sure we made money, but why didn’t we make more money?” Blow out one more candle dripping wax onto the top of Dairy Queen Blizzard Cake. Get reminded that bobsledding and curling are sports every four years.

And that’s part of what attracts me to ultra running - those moments training and racing pushing back against the rest of life’s circles like Ferris trying to roll back the odometer on Cameron’s dad’s car by putting it in reverse. It doesn’t work, it never works. Neither does convincing yourself to have another glass of wine while you binge watch another episode of Fuller House. Or burying yourself at your job in the hopes of eeking out a 3% raise instead of a 2% raise. None of it works.

So you have two options.

You can ride the circles like hopping on a tube at a water park lazy river - walk the dog, tell yourself “Okay now this is the last episode” for the fourth time tonight, wander across the empty office parking lot to your lonely car.

Or you can fight like hell, thrashing around like the guy at the end of the “Take On Me” video desperately trying to become more than a line drawing. 

You don’t have to literally run for nearly two and a half days straight covering the distance of back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back marathons (To try to put this in perspective, I’m posting this at about 8 pm on Monday. When you wake up for work on Thursday morning, that will be 58 hours from now). 

And there are times where fighting it just doesn’t make sense.

I’m stuck in a circle of my own making right now - sliding into a chair at the bar and trying to decide for the 14th time what sauce to mix with what pasta - though this particular circle has an end, November 19th creeping ever closer.

And no, I’m not fighting this. Even more than that, I’m not just riding this circle - I’m enjoying the ride. The momentary “Wouldn’t it be funny to get a Pasta Pass?” has opened up a writing gig that I can’t talk about quite yet, other than to say, holy shit, I’m going to get paid to write something. 

Tomorrow is Tuesday, and probably visit 15.

Visit 14 - Salad, bread sticks (2, but taken away before I could put them in my to-go box with my left-over pasta), gluten free rotini, marinara, meatballs (yes, really)

[njawaidofficial]

'Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks' Director on Working With Oprah and the "Draining" Emotional Scenes

http://styleveryday.com/2017/08/08/immortal-life-of-henrietta-lacks-director-on-working-with-oprah-and-the-draining-emotional-scenes/

'Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks' Director on Working With Oprah and the "Draining" Emotional Scenes

George C. Wolfe says some of the biggest challenges entailed working in 95-degree heat and “incredibly intense emotional days” on set.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks has at its origin a set of cells, taken from an African-American tobacco farmer in 1951 without her knowledge or consent, that would go on to revolutionize medical research. But while these “immortal” organisms helped give rise to pharmaceuticals that could combat diseases like cancer and AIDS, the woman from whom they came was never given her due. Based on the true story, the plot unfolds through the eyes of Lacks’ daughter Deborah (played by Oprah Winfrey) and Rebecca Skloot, the journalist (played by Rose Byrne) who authored the 2010 best-selling source book, as the two team up to search for the truth.

Also starring Renee Elise Goldsberry, Courtney B. Vance and Ruben Santiago-Hudson, it nabbed an Emmy nomination for best television movie. Director George C. Wolfe, who also has helmed the feature Nights in Rodanthe and won two Tonys, tells THR about leaning on his prolific theater career for this project, working with Winfrey and managing to capture such a complicated, charged story within a 90-minute movie.

What first drew you to helm the adaptation of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks?

There are stories that have great characters, there are stories that are about the world that you live in, and then there are stories that are intimate and compelling — they touch you. Henrietta Lacks had all of that. It is rare, but so wonderful when it happens. The characters are amazing, there’s an intimacy to the story, and the scale of what it’s about and how it affects the world that we’re living in right now were all in one room. So I was excited and honored that I got the opportunity to live inside of that room and work on material like that.

This story [captured] this incredibly odd phenomenon of these people who knew nothing about what happened to their mother’s and their cells, and they incorporated — well, they had to for their own sanity — that craziness into their normal existence. Deborah doesn’t know the truth, but she knows something happened, and she’s perpetually looking for the truth everywhere. She’s really fascinating once you realize how smart she is, how imaginative she is, and how ferociously determined she is to find out.

Were you familiar with the book before being approached about the project?

When the book first came out, I read it and found it so thrilling. It’s an ambitious book with a complicated, intimate story. One of the things a good writer does is put the drama in the details. I found the epic nature of it really wonderful. When working on the film, I knew I had to create a balance between epic and intimate, and that became the fun challenge.

What was the toughest part about executing that vision?

It was a fascinating challenge to figure out a way to keep the story intimate. To me, that was focusing on Deborah, Henrietta’s daughter, who has a deeply primal desire — like most of us — to know who made us. That was very important. Then it was really understanding that every single thing that happened — from Henrietta’s story to the science — was part of her journey.

Also, it was very interesting to read the book and have that be a source of truth, and then have the writer, Rebecca, share the original tapes she had [recorded] when conducting the interviews, to hear the actual family of Henrietta Lacks, to hear their tone and rhythm in how they spoke. The word and the voice are just so violently different. It’s one of the dangers of email. That difference altered the truth in some respect, and things became more and more layered.

What were some of the big challenges on set?

Every day in Atlanta was 95 degrees — your skull becomes a microwave and your head gets cooked, literally. I’ve never experienced anything like that. We’d have a scene at a gas station, which would be the simplest thing, but because of the heat, it’d feel monumental. Weird little moments would become overwhelming. Then, incredibly intense emotional days when Deborah and Rebecca — Oprah and Rose — were having some of their rawest moments were long and draining days, but somehow everybody was up for the occasion, and it happened effortlessly.

Filming in Baltimore was really interesting because it’s neither the North nor South, but both. It’s very urban and has a lot of money, but at the same time it has many areas that are desolate. I felt like I was in three or four different Americas at the same time. You felt this incredible sense of Southern warmth, and you’d drive a little bit and then there’d be a street where all the buildings were boarded up and there would just be one family living there, and then you’d go downtown and you’d be in an incredible, sophisticated, up-and-coming neighborhood. That was really culturally and politically fascinating.

What struck you about working with Oprah?

There was a fearlessness about the work. Wherever the scene required her to go, she would go seemingly without caution. I think she felt such an incredible responsibility to Deborah and her truth that she didn’t allow anything internal to stop her from going there. And she just had an incredible sense of adventure and fun. Even when it was hard, it always felt fun. Even when she was like, “They ripped my guts out, they stole my mother’s cells, and everybody in the family was violated and abused,” she’d have a sense of excitement and adventure about the work.

What from your theater background helped you?

I love working with actors and creating a work environment where they feel empowered and safe to go to as many dark corners as they need to be able to do the work. Throughout the time I’ve spent working in theater, I’ve worked with astonishing actors — some at the very beginnings of their careers, some very accomplished. And as a result, I’ve learned how to create an environment of safety and trust that allows them to play in dangerous, thrilling places. I take great pride in that.

What are you working on next?

I’m doing some writing — a screenplay and a play. I immediately started scouting locations [for Henrietta Lacks] a week after my musical Shuffle Along opened on Broadway, so I’ve been missing my writer self after all that directing.

But I’m involved in some talks about figuring out how to, for lack of a better word, celebrate its journey, which was an astonishing one. Working on it was an extraordinary experience, and the loss of it was extraordinary. And the memory of it. Everything about that show — there was nothing “wading pool” about it. Its journey was like going to the ocean, everything was so deep and complicated and beautiful and dark. I felt so deeply connected to that show in an astonishing way. I created a show about a show that didn’t last, and then the show didn’t last. And it should have. And literally once a week, three to five people come up to me [to talk about it]. I don’t know, I’m just trying to figure it out.

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4 OTHER SMALL SCREEN CONTENDERS From De Niro’s gripping turn as Bernie Madoff to a “love story” episode of the dystopian Black Mirror, the movie race is a tight one.

Sherlock: The Lying Detective (PBS)

Benedict Cumberbatch’s Holmes faces a powerful adversary in this standout installment.

Black Mirror: “San Junipero” (Netflix)

This neon-tinged love story set in ’80s California is both an outlier and fan favorite of the anthology.

Dolly Parton’s Christmas of Many Colors: Circile of Love (NBC)

A true story of sacrifice based on the legendary singer’s hardscrabble upbringing.

The Wizard of Lies (HBO)

Robert De Niro and Michelle Pfeiffer elevate this biopic about the world’s most notorious Ponzi schemer.

This story first appeared in an August stand-alone issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.

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