#so I take her out for a walk to decompress instead of punishing her for not knowing how to direct big feelings

[tchaikovsgay]

working in the special ed rooms (ESPECIALLY the autism/adhd room) for me as a neurodivergent adult has been so healing. I’m surrounded by kids who Get It, and they have an adult around that understands The Struggles. I love being able to be a sort of translator for the kids and the only truly terrible part is wishing that I had an adult like that around when I was a neurodivergent kid :-(

[justaradioguy]

@scentedbygunpowder

He was silent as they walked, not even an acknowledgment of her order or a comment. His face, she noticed, was turning redder as they walked too. This all concerned Riza. It wasn’t like Fuery at all. Something was going on, even if it was just a really bad day. Then again, sometimes bad days stemmed from something deeper, so that was something that she had to consider as well.

She didn’t take him far, not wanting to have this conversation in front of the other men, but also not wanting to drag it out. There was a small room adjecent to the office that they often used to store files that they still had need of, or files that needed to be shipped to the archives in Central. It wasn’t far, but it was a place that wasn’t often used either. It was good for private conversations, especially when the team knew they were taking place and wasn’t dare going to interrupt them.

Riza opened then door, motioning for Fuery to go inside first, and then closed the door behind them. The room–not much more than a closet, really–had a couple of chairs in them, and Riza gestured to them.

“Have a seat, Sergeant,” she said, waiting until he was seated before she did so as well. She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts and making sure she had his attention before she spoke again.

“Let me go ahead and start with this,” she said. “You’re not in here with me as a punishment or as a disciplinary action. You’re in here with me because you had an outburst that is unusual coming from you. And when someone under the command of the colonel or myself shows unusual behavior, we attend to it.”

She paused again. “Fuery,” she said. “What lead up to that outburst? Is there something going on that we need to know about, or something that you feel is lacking? Please tell me. You’re a valued member of the team, and we want to know what is going on.”

He sat down when he was told, mostly because he certainly didn't want to be standing.

That wouldn't go down well, more than likely.

Her words took him totally by surprise, though, using phrases like 'not in here as a disciplinary action' and 'valued member of this team' rather than 'reread this' and 'did you not learn a thing at the academy'.

It was certainly a nice thing to hear, something he'd needed but not dared to ask for. His expression softened, demeanor shifting ever so slightly from defensive to maybe a little irritated.

Kain tried to choose his next words carefully - there was a fine line between rambling and replying, and he was never quite sure where that line was. He knew he walked it on the daily, though.

"No, sir, nothing really. I'm just... not having the best day. I'm sorry. I shouldn't bring it to work, and I usually don't. I'll do better."

He almost wanted to ask if he could sit in there for a while to decompress, but deemed that a privilege he'd not earned. Instead, he opted for cleaning his glasses with his sleeve so that he didn't have to look at the lieutenant for a moment.

As he put them back on, he added, "I promise."

[swaps55]

Sonata - Update

Pairing: mShenko

Rating: M

Tags: Canon Divergent (Shepard & Kaidan pre-Me1 service history), Fake Relationship, Oh No - There Was Only One Bed, Mutual Pining (SO MUCH PINING)

POV Characters: Kaidan, Joker, Tali, Liara, Mrs. Alenko

Summary:

When the casualty list comes out after the Battle of the Citadel, the victory starts to feel more like a loss. Especially when the Alliance summons the Normandy home to Vancouver to face an inquest. Everyone copes in different ways. Tali suckers Joker into her romance novel obsession. Liara develops an affinity for martinis.

Shepard and Kaidan make bad decisions over too much booze.

Written for @makoparkingonly. Many, many thanks to @sinvraal for beta-ing this mess.

Chapter 7 - The Few Things

Chapter Summary:

Kaidan gets a little perspective. Mama Alenko does a little recon. Shepard has a realization. AKA, the chapter with all of the Alenkos.

Read it:

Shepard still has Kaidan’s jacket.

Something Kaidan doesn’t realize until he gets out of a skycar alone a few blocks from the condo. The walk had sounded like a good idea in his head, but he’s quickly finding his cold tolerance isn’t what it used to be. There was a time when six degrees wouldn’t have fazed him in the least.

One more change to add to the list.

He trudges towards the lobby, shoulders hunched, trying not to look so out of place. When he was a kid, he used to scoff at the Alliance uniforms he’d see on the street, complaining about the rain and the weather after a tour in space. He’d always been proud of being a native.

When he reaches the building he hesitates just a moment before going in. Facing his parents after the debacle in the courtroom isn’t something he’s up for, but the alternative had been waiting on campus for Shepard to finish. Spending another second on Alliance ground was more than he was willing to give.

But when he reaches the condo, it’s just his father waiting for him, stacking an antigrav cart with cases of wine stamped with a familiar seal.

“Could use your help, if you don’t mind,” he says.

“Yeah,” Kaidan agrees, not sure if he should be surprised or concerned to hear his father asking for help. “What’s all this for?”

His father nods towards the wine. “They were supposed to ship this to the venue, but it wound up here, instead. So now I get to haul it over.”

“Where’s Mom?”

He grimaces a little. “I…suggested she find something to get her out of the house for a little while. Figured you might need some time to decompress. She’s not much good at decompressing.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Kaidan’s lips. “She’s a little intense, yes.” He picks up one of the remaining cases and stacks it with the others. “Thank you.”

His father nods.

Kaidan traces the label of one of the cases with a finger. Bridlespur Orchard. It had been in his mother’s family for three generations. She’s been running it now for almost twenty years. With intergalactic trade reaching new heights, she’d turned the focus even more to the wine than just produce. The label artwork is different for each variety, but it always has something to do with a horse. On the redcurrant, it’s the silhouette of a black horse rearing under the moon. The cherry wine has a grey horse leaping over a creek.

“It’s a good batch,” his father says.

The two of them load it into an oversized skycar and take it over to the venue, a concert hall over in the West End. It looks new, feels new, with high arched ceilings and understated but elegant décor. A few high-top tables are already set up around the ballroom for hors d'oeuvres, dance floor close to the stage. Boxed equipment sits up on the stage for a live band. There are two bar stations on opposite corners, but Kaidan’s father steers them towards a storeroom off an adjacent kitchen, reached through a small, discreet door that no one will notice when the gala is in full swing.

Kaidan helps him unload the wine crates largely in silence, until his father gets tired of waiting for Kaidan to bring it up.

“Looks like they put you through the ringer today.”

“That obvious?”

Kaidan hopes for levity, but his father doesn’t answer and doesn’t smile. There’s only concern in his usually stoic expression, which doesn’t make it any easier. Kaidan grabs another box off the cart and sets it on the floor. He kneels down to open it up and starts pulling bottles out to line the shelf.  “The Alliance found their weak spot,” he admits.

“Shepard?”

He shakes his head, knot forming in his chest. For half a second, he almost confesses. About everything. His parents deserve to know the truth. If he even knows what that is anymore.   

Would he rather the Alliance had hung him for fraternization? Even if it’s a lie?

Is it even a lie?

Whether it is or isn’t, it still feels like a better sin than admitting who you are doesn’t measure up to what they want – or what they fear. Had the Alliance wanted to punish him for loving Shepard, at least that meant something. At this point, it’s part of him in ways he doesn’t want to lose.

Maybe that’s why he can’t meet his father’s gaze and just say it.

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Sonata Playlist

[crzcorgi]

Jeff, Negan help! Yep So last Sunday I was attacked by a dog, my favorite breed a Pitbull. I was just walking by and it lost it. I have minor injuries compared to what could have happened. Now my anxiety is in over drive when I go for walks and I hear a dog bark. I don’t blame the dog I blame the owners they live in an apartment and never interact with the poor dog. I so worried the dog will get put down I feel so guilty even though I know it wasn’t my fault. I worry the fear won’t go away.

Aww, baby girl, it’s Negan, I am so fucking sorry for that happening to you. That has got to be one of the scariest things to happen to you. I love dogs, but shit, yeah, they can be so unpredictable, as any animal is, a fucking split second is all it takes. And then everything changes.

Sweetheart, Jeff here, that is so awful. I’ve been bitten before, I understand. It changes you, especially when it’s an animal you trusted. And oh boy do I understand the fear after. It happened years ago to me, have had many animals since. But fuck if I don’t still flinch when I hear a similar bark.

Doll, don’t feel guilty, please, it most certainly is not your fault. You are a victim baby girl. Yes, it will be sad if something happens to that pup, but it’s unfortunately out of your hands. But I know how bad you’re feeling. Fucking wish those owners would be punished instead, that’s what should happen.

Darlin’, why don’t I come pick you up and let you spend some time with my sweeter than sugar pups? They have never bitten any living thing, maybe it could help you a bit? I’m not gonna lie, you most likely will always have a bit of that fear for awhile, but it will lessen, it will ease up. That I promise. I can keep them on leashes, giving them just enough slack to let you pat them without being overwhelmed.

Or you can come with me sweet thing, we can go somewhere without any other living things, you, me, maybe a hidden cabin, help you fucking decompress. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.

I’m not sure I’d trust him, doll, I think calling himself a gentleman is pushing it.

Fuck you Farmer Bob! I’m more of a gentleman than you! Asking her to spend time in the fucking country.

Look sweet girl, you decide what you would like to do, just know that we both care about you, want the best for you.

The hick’s right doll, whatever you want, need, it’s o-fucking-kay with me. I’m just worried as fuck about you. So let me know if you want me to come get ya.

Same here princess, just let me know and I’ll drop everything to come for you.

Love you dollface, it’s going to be okay, I promise

Negan

All my love my brave beautiful girl

XOXOJD

[unkindnessofone]

Unhook Pt 2 [Billy Hargrove]

Part 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the gif. 

Warnings: Swearing. 

Word Count: 5.8 k

Masterlist

He was avoiding you. Right out in the open, obnoxiously, and adjacent to wherever you were standing, Billy was avoiding you. He made sure you saw him right in front of the entrance first thing in the morning before school started. He spoke at volumes above what was necessary whenever near your locker in between classes and, for the first time in his whole career at Hawkins High, he ate in the cafeteria. He chose the table just across from the one you were sitting at with friends, and stared at your fluttering lashes only to quickly pull his gaze away when you would so much as glance toward his direction. If he was trying to annoy you, he was succeeding. You were elated by the time the day was over. Suspecting his next move would be standing around his car to try and catch your attention on your way out of the school, you took the East doors and snuck away without any trace of him in your peripheral view. 

You fiddled with your Walkman, untangling the headphones from around the compartment while walking at a slow pace toward your house. You would have just over ten minutes to peel off your clothes in exchange for your Pizza Hut uniform. Monday night shifts were always slow no matter the time of year. You hoped there would be enough tables to serve or cutlery to roll to keep your mind from wondering about the state of your relationship. 

Just about to slide your headphones over your head like a thin silver headband, your heart jumped at the sound of a screaming horn over an unmistakable soundtrack of metal music. It was Billy, slowing his car down to stall after school traffic and grab your attention. He won. A natural reflex to loud bothersome sounds, you turned to look and he put in a smile like a blue ribbon. He drove away right as you noticed Max roll her eyes in the passanger spot. It became clear to you then as your thumb pressed down on the play button that Billy wasn’t avoiding you. He was tormenting you. He was dangling himself right in front of you, close enough to smell his musk, but refusing to engage. He was punishing you for a college application that you hadn’t even completed yet.  You were in the kitchen, organizing plates and dirty cutlery into the dish pit, Billy far from your mind when the newest hostess, a fifteen year old who wore blush bold and bright just like the pink bands on her braces, called for your attention from the swinging kitchen door.  “Just sat table 6.” A booth by the window, a spot that usually provided a big bill and decent tip on the weekend.  “Thanks, Allison.” You called back to acknowledge that you had heard her and her eagerness to do a great job during her first unsupervised shift. Wiping your hands clean, you carried the paper towel piece out and tossed it as soon as you were back in the floor.  At table six, a blond curly mullet caught your attention from the hostess stand. Billy was a thousand things and, one of them, was recognizable. From his cigarette scented skin, his warm Calvin Klein cologne that didn’t mask it, and his curly hair were all dead giveaways.  “Hey,” You looked over the hostesses high ponytail and observed the schedule. “Could Lindy take table six, you think?“  “It’s a party of one.” Confused, Allison retorted as she looked up at you with both brows pulled low.  “I know.” “You only have one other table and they finished dessert forever ago.” She was right. It was dead in the restaurant tonight, but you could have been the only employee in the place and you would still be trying to give Billy’s table away.  “So, she can’t take it?” Moving the conversation along, you ignored the points she was trying to make.  “She went out for a smoke break.“  For a second, you resented yourself for not picking up the bad habit. You sighed and tightened your black apron around your uncomfortable black pants that had the scent of marinara sauce forever soaked in the fabric. If he was going to be pathetic, you would let him.  “Can I get you something to drink?” You asked your shoes as you refused to look up and into his adorable blue eyes.  Billy pulled his gaze away from the window where he was looking at his car and the preteens standing a little too close to it. His smile was tight as he looked you over, but it faded when it occurred to him that you were delibareltly avoiding eye contact with him.  He opened his mouth to tease you gently, but you threw your head up from the ground and beat him to speaking.  “How did you even know I was working?” Squinting at him, you asked gruffly.  “I know your schedule.” Billy said back. He always kept tabs on you. It freaked some of your friends out, but he was protective and that was all you chalked it up to.  “There’s no way you’re craving pizza because we eat it all the time.” With both hands on your hips, you started to ramble. “There’s no bobblehead here with you, so you’re not trying to taunt me.” That would be a Billy move and you knew it. “So, what? Are you just trying to make me crazy? It’s working. Congratulations.” One of the reasons you and Billy worked so nicely was because you rarely lost your composure, but the boy was grinding on your last nerves. He was exhausting you.  “Why would I bring another girl here? I have a girlfriend.” He looked at you as if you were actually crazy. ”You.” “I don’t know why you do anything, Billy.” He was not easy to understand and you knew one day scientists would win awards for studying his brain in-depth. “Like, why you kicked me out of your car yesterday?” It was the real question.  Billy went to answer you, but instead a loud sigh decompressed him and he hung his head as his mind went blank. He had one arm resting lazily on the table while his other hand picking at a growing hole in the knee of his jeans.  “It was just an application. You reacted like it was a plane ticket.” “Might as well have been.” He grumbled and spoke to the hole he was picking at. His self pity was evident.  He was being dramatic. You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of the wind howling as the front door opened. You spotted the other waitress returning from her break and held up one finger at Billy before walking away into the kitchen. You hung up your apron and covered a brown tray with two drinks and a small plate with four bread sticks on it. You were hungry and you bet your boyfriend was as well.  Setting down a fizzy coke in front of Billy, you caught his attention and then put down the plate in the center of the table, but slightly closer to your glass of water. He smiled with naive hope, looking like a little boy for a second, as he watched you slide into the booth on the other side of the table.  “I haven’t sent it in, you know?” You refreshed yourself with a long sip of water and mentioned while he ripped a soft breadstick in half. “I still have to write the essay. You don’t have to believe me, but I was going to talk to you about it first.” It sort of stung that he thought you wouldn’t. You always ran your plans by him, not for approval, but just as a courtesy. You were a team. Or you thought you were.  Billy didn’t say anything in response. He let the garlic and butter flavor settle on his tongue and just looked at the other half in his hand, feeling ashamed of himself. It was all over his face as plain as his dangling silver earring.  “You always say you want to blow Hawkins once you’re eighteen.” As a stubborn Taurus, his birthday was just a month and a half away. “Can you stick it out another month until we graduate?” His post school plans might have been different than yours, but there was no reason you two couldn’t walk down your own paths still holding hands.  “I can wait til you graduate.” He shrugged both shoulders and replied with his voice low and uninterested. He hated school and only went because it was a break and a distraction from the rest of his life. He preferred being bored than being beaten.  “You get good grades.” His dad would rip his entire head from his shoulders if he didn’t. You knew for a fact that Billy was intelligent when he wasn’t thinking with his penis and fists. “We could apply for schools together.“  "Or we could go to Cali together in the summer and figure it out from there.” It was such an in brand plan for him that you didn’t flinch, simply reached across the table and helped yourself to a somewhat warm breadstick. “Billy, I want to go to college.” You didn’t know if it was for you until this year. “Mr. Farley thinks I’m a good writer and - ” “Mr. Farley thinks you’re hot.” Cutting you off, he mused with evident irritation as he swallowed a busy sip of soda.  For just a minute, you stared so unimpressed at Billy that your eyes were practically emotionless. You were not about to argue with him that your married forty eight year old English teacher did not have a boner for you.  “No, he thinks I’m a good writer and he was going to write a recommendation letter to Chicago. They have a great Journalism department apparently.” You informed him with your voice growing a little excited at just the idea. It was nice to have someone who wasn’t your mother believing in you. “If I got in, I’d want to go."  It was usually Billy calling the shots. He was pretty sure this was one of the first times you were advocating for yourself and he knew that meant something.  "If that’s what you want…” Looking at both his hands loosely over one another in the table, fingertips shiny from hair product and breadsticks, Billy nodded along, “then that’s where we’ll go.” Maybe he didn’t have to go back to California. If he was out of Hawkins, he figured he would be happy.  “Well, that’s what I wanted before you left me on a back road.” There was another pink elephant in the room that you both had to address.  “I’m sorry.” It was almost inaudible, but he said it and meant it. Billy rarely apologized unless his dad had a hand around his throat.  “It was really scary.” “I’m glad you got home okay.” Billy had chain-smoked himself to sleep that night, his heart wrestling with his stubborn brain. He really wanted to go to your house and check on you, but his pissed off ego wouldn’t allow him to.  “No.” You didn’t care about the long walk. “Seeing you like that.” He had seen red as he revved his engine and screamed his lungs raw. Billy could only remember your frightened and frozen eyes. Everything else was foggy in his memory. “I didn’t know if you would -"  "I’m not him. I don’t do that.” He could not have said it any faster than he did.  Giving both of you a little time to think, get your priorities in order, you worked on the last breadstick silently while Billy went back and forth between watching you with nervous eyes, fidgeting with a napkin, and checking on his car out the window.  “If we are going to Chicago together or anywhere together, you got to work on your temper.” You watched his reactions closely, worried he might storm out at what you were saying. He had warned plenty of people at school that no one told the great Billy Hargrove what to do. “I don’t want to be scared of you again,” It hit him like a cold fist to the chest to hear you say that and Billy his his face from you. He looked at the window and let the parking lot see how sorry he was, “and I don’t know what you’re going to do when you’re like that, like, where’s your line?” Others had asked you that about your boyfriend before, but now you really didn’t know. “Would you see someone?” Your mom was friends with a couple therapists and the guidance counselor at school was always friendly. “What? Like a quack?” He responded in his typical fashion, eyes rolling to the left at the idea. “I’m not a pussy.” Somewhere between a pout and a frown grew under his nose, under his most recent attempt at a mustache.  Sighing, you leaned in and began to lament, “Billy, you could get into Chicago if you wanted to. You could get in anywhere.” It wasn’t just a kind thing to say. You believed it even if he did not. “I can get you an application, but whats the point if you don’t work on your temper? You say you’re not like him, but you do a great impression of an asshole then.” It was a dangerous thing to say and you didn’t know how he would react. He threw his back against the pleather cushion, gutted by the truth. Even if he looked hurt, you could tell the wheels in his brain were spinning.  “I can work on it.” He agreed. “I will.” For you, he would. He slid his hands back onto the table from between his knees and offered them to you. A whole day without your touch was too much for the stubborn boy. He waited for your palm to lay in his, his breath nervous in his throat that you wouldn’t want to hold his hand. Maybe, he had pushed you away too far. Thankfully, your fingers fiddled their way between his and you both let out a breath of relief. Now, Billy just had to put his money where his mouth was.

——

In the library, by yourself at a back desk, you reread the same line over in your biology textbook for he sixth time. The words wouldn’t stick to your brain. Your memory refused to commit to the fact. While it was generous of Miss Silk to allow you a free study period for your last exam, you were exhausted from studying. You needed a break. In fact, you had found yourself longing for watching episodes of MacGyver with Billy even though you thought the show was boring and every one ended with MacGyver saving the day and Billy’s hand all the way up your top.  Everyone’s head jolted to the door when it smacked the wall upon abruptly opening.  The period started fifteen minutes ago. Everyone was there who was coming to the class. While it wasn’t surprising to anyone that Billy was the one to enter so bombastically, the librarian on duty still scolded him with a pissed off shush. Some people always shuddered or rolled their eyes when Billy barged in, just like some girls always swooned. Everyone was scared this time though. He had a wild smile on his face that was filling his eyes with a crazy glow. He made a beeline to your spot, ignoring everyone.  With one hand, he smacked a paper and covered your textbook page. Before you could even glance at it, he turned your head with the fingers of his free hand and kissed you while the hand s snaked around your neck to make sure you could taste his happiness and the mint he had just sucked on a minute ago.  “Mr. Hargrove.” Miss Silk’s warning sounded as sweet as she was, a new teacher who could barely control her emotions let alone Billy’s.  He pulled away from you, but was still grinning from ear to ear. You held some of your hair behind your ears and turned to the paper that he had presented to you. The University of Chicago emblem was the first thing you noticed, flowed by Billy’s name. It was an acceptance letter and your eyes bulged out from your face before you jumped up and screamed. The pride beat off your face boldly as you threw your arms around him, ignoring the librarian’s shush that was clearly directed at you.  “I did it.” He laughed into your ear. “I fucking did it, babe."  You weren’t about to admit it, but you were a  touch surprised. While  you believed in Billy, he didn’t apply himself without a shove. He hadn’t always been studious. After kissing him again, you squeaked against his lips and pulled away. Neither of you could let go of one another, Billy’s hands on your lower back while your fingers played with the hair behind his neck. 

"I got in and I haven’t punched anyone in two months.” He confirmed and made you laugh. “Seven weeks give or take.” Billy corrected himself with a small shrug. In his defense, the other guy sucker punched him first.  You took your hands from his neck only because you could feel the annoyance from your classmates beating from their glances. You sat back down at the desk, but Billy followed suit and pulled up a chair right to the other side of it. “I brought this.” He reached into his jean jacket and took an envelope out from it, exchanging it for his acceptance letter. It was another letter, one addressed to you this time. “I drove to your place and got it. I almost opened it.” He laughed at himself and drummed two fingers against the desk’s edge. He was dying to know what was inside the envelope. Did you get in too?  Carefully, you peeled back the flap and fished out the folded letter between two fingertips. Billy’s breath was beating warm on your knuckles as he leaned in eagerly. You prayed that it was good news. Mostly, you didn’t want to put a damper on his celebration even though you wanted to get into the university as well. Folding it open, you took your eyes right to your name.  “You’re taking forever. What does it say?” Billy smacked the table and tried to hurry you up. When you didn’t answer right away, Billy began to sink behind the paper. He folded his own letter up and tucked it into the pocket he had pulled yours from. Billy had put himself for people consistently even if his little sister and classmates thought he was a self-obsessed prick. “Fuck Chicago anyway.” In an effort to comfort you through rejection, Billy hissed. “They’re fucking idiots if they want me and not you."  Over top of the letter, you glared at him. Even if he was trying to pump you up, you loathed when he put himself down.  "Don’t say that. They’re lucky to have you.” Very naturally, you told him. “They’re lucky to have us both.” The grin couldn’t be contained if you tried to hold it back, you showed him your letter and beamed.  “Holy shit.” Billy hummed under his breath before letting out a very loud and considerate ‘woo!’ in celebration. “We are getting the fuck out of this shit town!” He informed the entire library while standing up on his feet. In return, the library groaned and ignored him. Except for Miss Silk.  “Mr. Hargrove, if you are going to be disruptive, I have to ask you to leave.” She approached him from behind and cautiously told him. She looked terrified like a mouse under the shadow of a lion.  Billy merely shook his hand at her from behind his back, shooing her away in a sense.  “Let’s get out of here. Let’s celebrate.” Drinks somewhere with his fake ID and uninhibited sex with his smile buried between your bouncing breasts. Billy tugged on your hand to egg you to follow him out of the school.  His joy was infectious and you couldn’t not smile when you looked at him. It was so nice to see him looking out of his skull happy. Still, you shook your hand along with the arm he was holding. “No. They won’t want me if I don’t pass my science exam.” You explained as he pouted and nearly stuck out his tongue like a toddler. “Same as you. We aren’t all the way in. You have your geography one left.” Both of you would be done by Friday, just one more exam and it was done until graduation. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He groaned and leaned in for one more kiss, happy to put on a show for anyone looking. Billy wasn’t about to let anything bring him down today. “See you after by the car.” He said before leaving reluctantly, his ass looking particularly good in his jeans as he walked out, cackling toward the livid librarian.  Billy kept the music loud the whole way home which wasn’t unusual. The strange part was how he couldn’t stop smiling and singing along. Max looked genuinely concerned that he had finally cracked for good. When you turned around to see her in the backseat and let her know that you both had been accepted to the University of Chicago, Max joined in with the sing-a-ling, but she was mostly celebrating the fact that her stupid big step brother was going to be gone and out of her life.  He dropped you off outside of the restaurant, but hung his head out the window with his lips out for a kiss. As always, he ignored Max droning on about how gross it was for her to hear and see.  “Want a ride home?” He checked for the second time. You had said ‘no’ when he first offered as soon as school was out since you weren’t sure exactly when you would be done.  “I’m good. Thanks for dropping me off.” He words buzzed between your lips before you sucked on his bottom one again.

— —

After work, you were exhausted. You nearly fell asleep on the bus home. Just as you were unlocking the front door to head inside, your mom was running out to start her night shift. She was in her scrubs, silver travel mug clutched in her hand along with her full key fob. The exchange was so fast that you didn’t have a chance to tell her your news.  “There’s soup on the stove that you can heat up.” She kissed your cheek with a loud smack and mentioned as she began to leave. “Billy called. I said you’d call him back.” She informed you as she rushed down the porch steps on her way to her old piece-of-shit Honda. “He is not allowed over though. You have to study!” She waved and jogged the last few steps over to her car.  Once inside, you dropped your backpack on top of a bunch of shoes at the door and considered joining it on the ground. You really didn’t want to study. All you wanted to do was sleep, so you dragged your feet down the hall to go to your room. Once out of your smelly uniform and in a Loverboy tee shirt and comfy red sweats, you went to the kitchen where the phone was mounted to the wall. By heart, you knew his number and dialled it while praying that Susan or Billy answered. You worried Neil might scold you for calling so late or just grumble at his son about it. Your prayers were answered when a meek female voice spoke.  “Hi Susan, it’s [Y/N]…Is Billy there?"  "Yeah, one second.” She held the phone to her chest and called out for him. “He told us the news, so we have been celebrating. We are so happy for you.” Kindly, she shared, talking to you as sweetly as she often did Max. While you had tried, you never quite understood Susan Mayfield. She was so nice and yet stood by when Neil was a tyrant to his son.  “Oh, thanks.” Stifling a yawn, you replied politely. It was nice to hear that tonight was a pleasant night at Billy’s place. You could hear soft mumbled back and forth between her and Billy before the phone was passed off to him. Billy was lucky. They had a cordless phone and you heard him walking away and close a door.  “Gorgeous, hey.” He grinned into the phone and you swore you could hear the corners of his mouth spread. “You home?"  "Yeah, just got in.” Leaning against the wall and tangling the spiral cord around your index finger, you waited for him to take over the conversation.  “My dad wants to take us out Friday after exams …to celebrate.” It was the last thing you expected him to say. You were stunned silent. “You don’t have to. I can say you’re busy.” He leaned down on his bed amongst laundry he had yet to put away and probably wouldn’t.  “No, no, it’s fine.” Shaking your surprise off, you assured him. “Do you want to? It’s your call.” When it came to Neil, you let Billy call the shots.  “Free dinner, right?” He shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that he really wanted to go. It felt pathetic, but he was hungry for dad’s approval. Billy was still replaying the moment he gave his dad the acceptance letter. How Neil threw an arm around his neck and dragged him into a proud hug, barely able to contain how happy he was. Billy couldn’t remember the last time his Dad looked at him like he wasn’t a pain in the ass.  “Yeah, sure. Sounds great.” If he wanted to go, you would join him. Besides, it was always easier for Billy to face his family with you by his side. “Cool. Are you going to study?” “I should, but I’m just going to crash. I would ask you to come over, but Susan says you guys are celebrating.” “Just some drinks. It’s nothing big.” He downplayed. “I should stay in though.” He really didn’t want to ruin the moment of solace with his dad.  “Of course. Say hi to everyone for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “I’ll pick you up.” He always did. It went without saying. “Hey, um, uh, I love you.” It was only the third time he said it. Billy wasn’t very forthcoming with his emotions, but he showed affection in almost every other way. “Sleep well.” He nodded and leaned into the phone against his ear, wishing it was your face or chest instead.  “I love you.” Savoring the rare softness from him, you quietly responded and hung up. You felt like you two were in a good place finally, but the promise of dinner with his dad and stepmom left an uneasiness in the pit of your stomach.

–

It was worse than the first time you went out with Billy. Standing in front of the mirror on the bathroom door, you fussed over your clothes, lip gloss, and even the shape of your chin that hadn’t been a major point of contention until now. The truth was you were just nervous. You always wanted things to go well when you were around Billy’s family. You never wanted to give his dad a reason to make any negative comment. Billy was really looking forward to tonight, telling you so before you went into the gym to write your final exams. It took much longer than you intended it to, but eventually you settled on an outfit that your mother described as “cute” and then “safe” when you explained how nervous you were. She didn’t know the details of Billy’s relationship with his dad, but you had told her on occasion that it was “less than ideal” and “volatile”. Billy had been adamant that you keep what he confided in you about to yourself, so out of respect, you did. 

You thought it would be Billy squeezing your thigh under the table, but instead you were gripping his fingers and keeping close to him in the booth. You two had driven an hour out of Hawkins, Neil treating you all to a meal that wasn’t deep fried which was all that Hawkins had to offer besides gas station goodies and the Pizza Hut you worked at.  Maybe it was all in your head, but it felt tense at the table. You were just waiting for the other shoe to drop as Neil and Susan talked about their own memories of ending high school, Billy half listening and sipping on a soda that he wished was a cold beer. You felt yourself relaxing, but your shoulders were still tight when Neil’s comment made you sit up straight as a pin again. “You know he wouldn’t have got in without you, right?” Fresh from a sip of his drink, Neil raised his brows at you to call for your attention.  Instantly, you shook your head to very gently disagree. Eyes wide, you were ready to refute that and praise how hard Billy could work when he wanted to, but Neil kept going.  “The things we do for a piece of ass.” He laughed and earned himself a smack in the arm from Susan, her eyes pleading for forgiveness from you and Billy across from her.  Billy crossed his foot over yours and you instinctively squeezed his fingers again as they linked together over his knee.  “I can’t take the credit.” You worked up enough gull to say. It was not fair to let his dad’s comments hang in the air. They weren’t true and Billy deserved to hear that from someone. “Billy’s really smart. He helped a lot with my biology final.” A lot might have been an exaggeration, but he did explain ionic bonding in a way that made sense to you.   “What do you think you might want to study?” Susan took her husband’s silence as her cue and asked you, leaning in to take a piece of sourdough bread from the basket in the middle of the table. 

“Journalism. My acceptance is actually into their program.” You informed her. It wasn’t as if the two of you knew much of one another. She mused and nodded, somewhat interested.  “She’s gonna be a big deal.” Gloating, Billy couldn’t contain himself.  “What about you, Billy?” Neil smacked his lips together and asked gruffly. “Up until now, you didn’t have much of a plan.” It was as if it would actually kill him to be optimistic towards his son. “You were gonna fix cars or work in a gym or something…” Billy was silent. He didn’t have an answer. His plan was to take a smattering of courses at first and figure out what he liked. He was scared that University wouldn’t be a good fit for him and the question only made that fear louder in his head.  “You’ve been looking into kinesiology.” You reminded him. It had been the last thing you two talked about.  “Yeah.” Billy agreed with his face scrunched together. Looking up from his knees to tell Susan instead of his Dad. He thankfully missed Neil’s blank stare that asked, ‘what the hell is that?’.  “So, how are you two planning to swing all this?” Neil had not been saving up a fund for his son as Billy had gone on and on about dropping out and ditching as soon as he turned eighteen. As proud as he was of his boy, this was still a brand new change for him. “I assume your  mom isn’t helping out.” The comment sounded innocent enough, but you suspected that was somehow a jab at your hardworking single mom and her lack finances.

“She’s helping, yeah.” You nodded even though it wasn’t really anyone’s business. “I save all my checks from work,” Minimum wage wasn’t much, but you also didn’t have a lot of costs at the moment. “And we’re both going to apply for student loans,” Neither of you were being offered scholarships so it was mandatory that you have some help for tuition. “There’s really affordable housing on campus.” You had done a lot of research. “I’ll work while we’re out there, so will he.” Looking at Billy, you caught him nodding. He wasn’t concerned at all. He just wanted to leave Hawkins, be with you, and never come back. Every day he found himself more excited than the day before to start over in Chicago.

“Looks you have it all figured out.” Neil mused as the waiter approached the table, two dishes in hand. “Thank God, one of you does.” It was another jab at Billy. He just couldn’t help himself, letting it sneak out right before Susan’s meal was placed in front of her.

Billy advised you on the walk from the restaurant to his car, after saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘thank you’ to his Dad, not to get upset. He held your hand and whispered under his breath to let it go. He knew you were upset. He could read you like a five cent paperback in the middle of aisle six.

“That’s the nicest time I’ve had with my dad in…” Billy had to think about it as he shook his hair out of his face and put the keys in the ignition. “I don’t know when.”

It was a fact that left you as sad as you were full, “It just confirmed for me that us getting out of town is the right  move.” You said instead of wailing on how rude his dad has been. If Billy was satisfied, you didn’t want to damper that. You locked your seatbelt into place as he pulled out of his tight spot, cursing the Trans Am parked on his side for their awful parking job.

“Yeah,” He returned to your conversation once he was back on the road. “I’ll show that motherfucker how wrong he is about me.” He gripped the wheel and laughed.

“Yeah.” Right away, you agreed. The thought had crossed your mind multiple times at dinner.

“Honestly, I don’t give a fuck.” Billy shrugged. “I don’t care if he thinks I’m a loser.” He did care. He cared a lot, but Billy hoped sincerely that it would stop hurting him internally one day. “All this shit is over now, it’s just you and me. That’s what I’m thinking about.” He put his hand on yours and headed to the highway that led back to Hawkins, grinning as you picked up both hands and led them to your mouth in order to kiss his knuckles. This was exactly how he wanted it to be. The two of you in his car with his music loud. Nothing else mattered. 

@desertsivan1995 @allison-rosewood-maximoff @stevesharrlngtons @daddyslittlemunster @devintagekids @wthchanel @muchostacosbuenos @yourneonbunny @httperrornicole @4-a-m

[godspillerofrock-blog]

One day, from his sniper nest, Chief Gallagher shot a girl in a flower-print hijab who was walking w/ other girls on the riverbank. She dropped, clutching her stomach, & the other girls dragged her away.”

Trump is preparing to pardon this war criminal. A mass murderer according to Senior Seals: Would order needless risks, to fire rockets at houses for no apparent reason. He routinely parked an armored truck on a Tigris River bridge & emptied the truck’s heavy machine gun into neighborhoods on twith no discernible targets. Platoon members said he spent much of his time in a hidden perch with a sniper rifle, firing three or four times as often as other platoon snipers. They said he boasted about the number of people he had killed, including women. Two other snipers said, the chief shot an unarmed man in a white robe with a wispy white beard. They said the man fell, a red blotch spreading on his back.

Gallagher ordered a hatchet & a hunting knife before 2017 deployment. He texted the man who made them (a Navy Seal veteran) shortly after arriving in Iraq: “I’ll try and dig that knife or hatchet on someone’s skull! May 2017, a SEAL medic was treating a wounded 15 y/o Islamic State fighter. “He’s mine,” Gallagher said. Gallagher walked up without a word and stabbed the wounded teenager several times in the neck and once in the chest with his hunting knife, killing him. He didn’t even try to hide the murder of the 15 y/o. He brought other seals around minutes later & took a photo over the body. Later, he texted the photo to a fellow SEAL in California: “Good story behind this, got him with my hunting knife."

Platoon members tried time & time again to report about what he was doing. Praying that higher ups would do something. They were told to “decompress.” After he stabbed the 15 y/o: “SEALs called a platoon meeting & discussed how to keep the chief away from anyone he could harm" SEAL team 7 members filed formal complaints & called for an investigation about the “shocking acts” they had seen their chief commit. Instead of investigating, platoon members were warned “that speaking out could cost them and others their careers.” Gallagher for his part, didn’t like all the snitching going on. Texts: “I just got word these guys went crying to the wrong person. The only thing we can do as good team guys is pass the word on those traitors. They are not brothers at all.”

This is the kind of guy Trump has sympathy for. And will likely pardon. A war criminal, who mass murdered Muslim people. Killed w/ pride, hatred & zero remorse. Brazenly gloated about it. And then threatened anyone who would be disloyal enough to speak out about his crimes.

There are literally millions of people saddled with federal criminal convictions & records—the majority of all those still alive ever charged & convicted in a federal court—whose conduct paled in comparison to what Chris Gallagher is accused of. His cruelty is unique. Trumps use of pardon power would send a clear message. A value judgment. Consistent w/ his own cruelty, white supremacy, & violence at home & abroad. From police violence, to the Muslim ban, family separations, border shootings, & war on LGTBQ & women’s rights. It’s ‘Us v. Them.’ For Trump, cruelty towards “the other” is the point. If you’re Black or Brown, a non-white immigrant, a woman, or other minority you’re an “animal.” If you’re useful to him, he’ll embrace you. If not he’ll kill you, literally & figuratively, for sport. Just like Gallagher.

Trump is also considering pardoning: Green Beret Mathew Golsteyn, accused of killing an unarmed civilian; Nicholas Slatten, Blackwater guard found guilty of shooting dozens of unarmed Iraqis; & snipers accused of defiling a dead Taliban fighter’s corpse. Not surprisingly, Trump is taking his cues from FoxNews & Republican congress people, who all “have portrayed them as being unfairly punished for trying to do their job.” According to the NYT as of now he plans to do this on Memorial Day. If he does it, it would be unprecedented. “Pardoning several accused & convicted war criminals at once, including some who have not yet gone to trial, has not been done in recent history, legal experts said. Some worried that it could erode the legitimacy of military law & undercut good order & discipline in the ranks.”

Gonna say this again—this incentivizes the commission of war crimes by our opponents and allies, and in doing so puts US servicemembers at greater risk.

-Scott Hechinger

[youreghanamissme]

Hey There, Brown Booger

a11/14/2017

It's that time of year again-- when I'll have to filter my tears, my sweat, and every drop of water imaginable because the rain has finished. The landscape has reverted back to its tan and dusty self. I can no longer leave anything of value near the windows overnight lest I want to a nice coat of dust on it in the morning. My boogers are red-brown, and soon, my hacking cough caused by the dust will return in full force. Moto drivers have already started to wear their face masks, some of which perform double duty as a fashion statement (fuzzy cheetah print is all the rage right now, y'all). It's been a while since I've sat down and typed about myself. I wish I could say it is because I'm a very, very important person who hasn't a modicum of time to spend on my arse, detailing the contents of my crazy life to the internet. Nope, nada, nein! Idleness is three-fifths of existence in country. Henceforth, the abridged capitulation of the past few months for my five readers out there (hey peeps!)...

I.       Wake Me Up When September Ends

Half a year later, and GLOW/BRO camp still lives! One of my favorite campers had been reminding me to visit her community for a while, and I wanted to! But life happens, so instead, I invited her to mine :) She's a Gonja by tribe, so I thought it would be cool to show her a little taste of how we live it up in the heart of Dagomba land. Her stay was short but sweet. She wanted to continue living a slice of my siliminga (foreigner) lifestyle, but she couldn't bear to be apart from her mother for too long. Her siblings don't help their mother out at the market. Honest, my few days with Gifty were some of the most rewarding and intense bonding moments I've had as a mentor. Spending time with her illuminated a fact of Ghanaian life that I already knew but never fully internalized until Gifty shared with me the hardships of her life—that children in Ghana are forced to deal with the burden of adulthood far too early. We cried, we laughed, we watched a lot of movies and played a lot of checkers... Youth camps may be a finite venture in the Peace Corps realm of projects, but I say participate if you can. Or, just work with youth through volunteership or something. If not for GLOW/BRO I wouldn't have met some of the most intelligent, self-motivated, and hopeful young people in Ghana.

Casa de Deeshini was lit in September! Thankfully not literally. The end of the month marked the Fire Festival, a traditional Dagomba celebration. The story goes something like this:

A long, long time ago a Dagomba prince went missing. His father—the Chief—and the community members scoured the land for him. At the edge of the community they found him asleep in a tree. They concluded that the tree was evil for stealing their prince from them. They rescued him, and to punish the tree, they threw flaming torches at it. And every year following the prince's abduction, they would set a tree on fire with flaming torches to commemorate the return of the prince and to penalize the tree.

I wasn't able to go last year because I was at OpSmile in Tamale, so I knew I HAD to go to the one in my community this year or else I would forever regret it. And y'all... IT. WAS. LIT. ...LITERALLY!! I have never seen nor experienced so much energy in my community. Hell, I have never seen so many people out and about in my community. There was so much food and drumming and singing, and people were so, so kind. We made torches; we gave torches away; people gave us torches... I loved it. Every single minute of it. I got such a high from the cumulative energy of the whole experience. I invited a few PCV's to come and join in on the festivities where my community lit not one, but THREE trees on fire. We were conked after Tree #2 and headed back to decompress and catch some Z's, but I have never danced, screamed, yelled, sang, and ran with such intensity or felt such ecstasy as I have at Fire Fest. I truly felt beloved and accepted by my community at that moment, and I will forever hold onto those feels when PC life isn't looking so bright.

  II.    It's Scorpio Season, Bitches

October was so intense that I was barely in my community. I had a lot of workshop prep going on that took me out of site (more on that below). It was also my birthday month, the race in Accra, and Halloween (one of my Top 5 favorite holidays of all time)!

It was a little embarrassing this year. I forgot how old I was. I did the math and thought I lost a year of my life, culminating in one of the most pitiful weeks in the history of my existence (sorry, PCV friends who had to deal with my woes and existential crisis), but then I realized I did the math wrong and felt young and relieved (who needs to swim in a tub of virgin blood to retain your youth when you can just buy a calculator?)! Woo-hoo! But then it made me think... is my shitty memory due to the antimalarial pills or am I just truly deplorable in simple arithmetic? The jury is still out.

I celebrated my most recent revolution around the sun with my long-lost twin... who just happens to be from the other side of United States of America (South Carolina, holla at yer guuurl). Something was amiss when I found out that Allie and I both had an unhealthy obsession with costume/ period dramas, chiefly of the British persuasion. And then she told me she used to be a museum docent (!! One of my dream jobs!! Up there with bartender). And when I I found out we had the same birthday... OH LAWD.

It all made sense. We are basically the same person. Once our mutual love for Antiques Roadshow was uncovered, it was basically like the universe was fucking around. What else was there for us to do? Throw a joint costume birthday party, duh.

October 23rd, dudes. I made acquaintances write it on their calendar, and I'm not even ashamed.

But we celebrated the day before because, y'know, the weekend.

She dressed up as Squints from The Sandlot (ugh, a classic!). I dressed up as a deadbeat-nik. Yeah, YEEEAH. Y'all aren't the only ones who didn't think it was punny/ funny. It's fine though. I chuckled to myself. It also gave me the opportunity to finally, after a year and a half, wear that beret that I got in Accra. KG had proclaimed time and again, “Di, I don't know why you bought that fucking beret. It's a million degrees outside. YOU'LL NEVER WEAR IT.”

I whatsapped her a photo of me in the beret.

It was super fun. Friends came and dressed up, even though some of them hate costume parties, DIY costume parties even more so. I had a grand ol' time, and I thank the folks who made it out and those who wished me a HBD.

A couple days after my superspecialawesome day was the regional Tamale Spelling Bee. My homegirl Sarah is involved with the organization/ event, having volunteered last year. It seemed like such a cool opportunity that I asked and received permission to help out too. I'm not well-versed in the logistics, but the brightest of the bunch in Tamale will travel down to Accra to participate in the national spelling bee. Ghana is the only country in West Africa that participates in the International Spelling Bee held by Scripps. The winner of the national spelling bee gets to go to America to participate in the Scripps competition. They also receive a cash prize (thousands of Cedis, dude), material gifts, and a trip to South Africa or something. Their teacher gets to accompany them too, so it's not just the student benefiting. It's such a cool opportunity, and I'm sad to say that the students (Primary 6 to JHS 2 are eligible) in the north do not have as great an advantage as those in the more southern regions, especially those from Greater Accra or Tema with their ipads and better, more consistent education. But to see the Northern students try their hardest made my heart swell. These students were so bright that some stiff competition will not diminish their shine!!

There were two parts to the regional contest. A written comprehension portion and a verbal spelling portion. The combined scores determined who was going to go to Accra. At the end of the verbal spelling portion, after students had been spelling for over two hours, many remained, but only five students were supposed to be selected. The spellers were exhausted, and somehow the MC of the event asked her boss, the event organizer, if he would allow to send the remaining six spellers to Accra. In a moment of unexplained virtue, he was convinced (sucks for that seventh student that was eliminated...), and the crowd erupted into cheers and whoops and whistles. Just pure happiness, y'all.

 After the Bee, the Accra International Marathon happened. I participated. I didn't die. #praisebe #underhiseye

It was awesome to see so many expats, Ghanians, children, and students participating in the race. I even ran into (not literally, thank jah!) a colleague from an NGO in the North at the 10K starting point! Pardon my smugness, but I wasn't last! In the scheme of life, it doesn't matter as much as the fact that I finished! WOO-HOO!! It was such a thrill. And I felt overwhelmed with joy when I heard the friendly cheers calling out my name near the finish line. These voices were familiar... these voices could only come from loud PCV's who DGAF!! It was bliss to see my friends there. The best thing to come out of training and completing the race was my new found appreciation for running. I have said in the past that I hate running. I often scream it at the top of my lungs when people ask me my views on the very subject, “I. HAAATE. RUNNINGGG!!”

I hate it less now. Part of it may be my assumption that “running” meant going hard, 100% of the time. I'm more lax about it. I walk a little here and there, and I always listen to a good podcast while I'm out completing a run. Take home story: if I can be converted to the Church of Somehow-Running, you can be too. Even though it often appears so, it's not some sort of cult. It just feels nice after you finish (It's those goddamn endorphins). I even kinda feel like a lump if I skip running for too many days. I'm hoping to one day train towards a half marathon and then, maybe, a full marathon, kindasortanotreallyidunno.

Whenever I'm in Accra, which is seldom, I try to couple my visit with a medical purpose because all medical distins are taken care of there. Sucks for folks in the Northern and Upper regions. I went to the dentist for some tooth pain that had been recurring for months. The PC Medical Officer had been telling me that we should “wait and see” about the pain for the past half-year. Whelp, I got it sort of checked out. It's a cavity, underneath a filling of an older cavity... probably. They weren't 100% certain since their x-ray machine was broken and they couldn't fix it before I left for the north. Dang-diddily-nabbit. Add that to my diminishing hearing abilities (to be checked out next time I'm in the country capital as well) and frequent questionable moles (sunscreen is moot when you sweat it all off), and I tell ya what—Ghana, maybe, has a vendetta against me.

  III. I'm An Unauthorized Authority Because I Have a Degree In This

I was chosen to be a trainer for the 2017 Nutrition IST (In Service Training). YASSSS. YAAASSSSS. Started as a participant, now I'm here!

It was a lot of work and planning, and my team was fabulous. The star qualities of this IST compared to the other IST's offered in country are that a female counterpart is required, that female CP's can bring their child, and that there are translators available, so English comprehension/ a formal education is not a requirement. The latter two solutions are imperative in overcoming many of the barriers that prevent women (the primary caretakers and often the MVP when it comes to nutrition in the household) from going to Peace Corps Ghana trainings. I am so proud that the Nutrition IST was so inclusive and mindful of the mamas.  It's empowering to the women that participate, and it's encouraging as trainers and as PCV's to witness their growth and excitement.

I have to give plenty of kudos to the Moringa Man and the Health PCVLT (Peace Corps Volunteer Leader-Trainer ?? I don't know. Too many letters in this acronym) for arranging curriculum that is interactive and varied to meet the needs of our audience.

The Ghanaian diet is mostly carbs and fats because it's cheaper to, say, pound a cash crop like maize into a ball and eat it with groundnut stew, a soup made of a lot of oil (more fat means more calories AND it helps preserve the stew) and another accessible crop, than to buy fresh fruits and vegetables. Poverty already affects access to vegetables and meat. The dry season—a time when food is scarce and can be more costly to families whose plush harvest money has already been spent—makes good nutrition even harder. Knowing that food security is an issue, we did our best to come up with applicable alternatives that Ghanaians can explore, highlighting the nutritional benefits of staple crops but emphasizing the addition of others that are available in the market.

We put the men to work in the kitchen!

We did a LOT of cooking demos, often with fortified recipes for existing Ghanaian meals. We discussed the benefits of breastfeeding, certain micro-nutrients during pregnancy, the correlation between food safety/hygiene and malnutrition caused by frequent diarrhea, and so much more. Because the crops and the culture of the northern regions of Ghana are vastly different from the southern regions, we had two separate workshops.

The best surprise is hearing updates from PCV's who attended and their stories about their empowered CP's holding space to talk about nutrition in their communities. Moments like these remind me of the reasons why I'm here and why I choose to stay. I have a lot more thoughts on the Nutrition IST that I'd like to spotlight in a post apart, just because there are so many facets to it. Look forward to it soon, hopefully haha

  It's November now, so I can stop listening to Christmas music in the privacy of my own room and start singing “Santa Baby” off-key in public. More updated posts coming somehow-soon (read: as soon as I finish my session plans for future nutrition IST’s, eek!)