#someday ill go back and finish the next installment...

[jihnari]

For the ao3 wrapped ask game: 3 and 18 please!

(from this ao3 wrapped post)

3) What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

i forgot until i looked at my stats page but i actually finished QAB this year!!! so, that. it only took me almost FOUR YEARS.

i put off finishing it for a long time (partially because i was hella busy but also) because i really wanted to do the ending justice, and i pulled it off to a degree that im happy with.

18) The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

honestly no one gave me too much trouble this year. i've developed a whole process for getting down characterization, and it makes me feel a little crazy but it works really well for me. takes out a lot of the suffering and guesswork.

the person for whom that process took the most time was probably svarog, from honkai star rail. (from this svarog/gepard fic.) his speech patterns aren't what you'd intuitively expect them to be, given that he's a robot. he's not overly formal and he uses contractions and he's not thrown off by figures of speech. he talks about his emotions and his emotional bonds, and getting his voice down to a level i was happy with just took more time and effort than it usually does.

[autisticalastor]

word search tag game!

tagged by @the-flaming-nightmare ty!! sorry i didnt get to it yesterday, i had a migraine after class lol

Rules: In a new post use the words below (or choose your own) to find where they appear in your WIP/s and share those parts.

(im choosing to use the same words lol)

Breath — from a new fic chapter ill be posting tmrw!

Vox takes a deep, gasping breath. He's never going to get used to the feeling of respawning. Everything he's ever been through, alive and in Hell, and not one bit of it compares to the pain he feels as life shoots back into his body, crackling and blindingly bright.

Out — from a waaaay on down the line installment of The Taming of the Deer and the Devil

Alastor is quiet a moment and Lucifer’s face flushes as he quickly looks away, realizing what he’s just said. He really didn’t mean to put Alastor on the spot like that, especially knowing how difficult it is for him to deal with feelings — it all just kind of spilled out of him, as if he had no control over it at all. Intense emotional stuff like this would normally have Alastor teleporting himself as far away as he could possibly get. But he doesn’t.

Body — from an old radiostatic wip ill maybe even finish someday

“Because you just up and fucking left me, Al!” Vox yells, neon sparks of electricity arcing all over his body. “You– We went to bed one night, just like we always did. And when I woke up the next morning, you were gone. Couldn't even bother leaving so much as a note. I–” Vox chokes up a bit here, like he'd be crying if he were physically able to “–I waited for you. Day and night, for months with no sign you were even still alive. You… You didn’t even come by when you finally got back from wherever the hell you fucked off to.”

ok besties time to tag ppl <333 @small-duckie & @danana-split bc u guys said i can tag u in writing games :3

[bluedraggy]

Beatrice Santello - Part 2 #11

Image by ottoOttsy

Cemetery and Proposal

The service was a melancholy affair as a warm spring rain fell outside the chapel at the church, but Bea felt like that was appropriate. The casket, of course, was closed, but she greeted both Mr. and Mrs. Hartley. Pastor K. said a brief few words and both Mae and Gregg were blessedly subdued.

Bea said goodbye to her friends after the service as they weren’t feeling like going to the burial, but it had been a while since Bea had spent time with her mother so she turned on her car’s lights and followed the train of cars to the cemetery.  The rain had stopped and the grave site was covered by a tent anyway, so other than getting a little mud on her boots, it was alright. Casey’s parents were reserved as could be expected, considering they were burying their son.

She’d managed to keep her composure until they lowered the casket into the ground, but memories of her mother’s burial came flooding back and she was unable to hold back the tears any longer. All the assurances of the afterlife and that the dead person’s soul lived forever didn’t help. She left shortly after and walked back to her car where she got out the flowers she’d bought earlier, then walked back to where her mother’s headstone stood up stark against the wet ground.

“Hi Mom,” she said quietly to the grave. “I brought you some flowers. Damn, I hope you’re there somewhere. They just buried Casey. I never really told you about him, did I? I don’t know if you, like, know my mind. I hope not. It would be embarrassing. But I think I was in love with him. Well, really I know I was. He was killed by some nut jobs here, but I’d broken up with him before that because he brought drugs and stuff into the Pickaxe. Casey, if you can hear me too… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to shut off the shudders that were coming on - a sure prelude to another round of crying.  It worked.

“Anyway, Mom, Dad’s doing alright I guess. We miss you. I miss you. I’ve got enough for the lease on the building, inventory and taxes this month. Still can’t hire Germ full time, though. Bill’s still there, but I keep him out of the store as much as I can. He hasn’t done anything for a long time though, so I think it’s okay. Sorry I haven’t been back more often.”

A little while later, she stood up again and brushed the mud off her knees. She looked over to where Casey’s grave was. Workmen were taking down the tent and two other men were shoveling more dirt over it, filling it in. Everyone else had left. She took a flower from her mom’s bouquet and walked back to where the shovelers were just finishing up.

There was no headstone, so she just dropped the flower over the mound.

“The headstone will be installed next week,” said a voice she recognized behind her. She didn’t turn around.

“Hi Pastor K. Why are you still here?”

“Oh, I guess I’m like you. I know a lot of people buried here. You cared a lot about Casey, didn’t you?”

It was more a statement than a question. Bea just nodded.

“I know I’m supposed to tell you he’s in a better place and all that, Bea. But even us religious people don’t know for sure of course. I suppose no one alive does. That’s why they call it ‘faith’ I guess.”

“Do you have faith? Do you think he’s still around… somewhere?”

“I have faith. It’s all we have, Bea. Still agnostic I suppose? I don’t suppose I could talk you into coming to service some day?”

“I’d feel like a hypocrite, Pastor K.”

“We’re all hypocrites, Bea. We do the best we can though. I think someday you’ll be a regular - but you have to find your own way home first.”

Bea turned around to face the diminutive pastor, anger flashing in her eyes.

“I can’t believe in your God, Pastor. A decent God wouldn’t allow things like this. And don’t give me that Mysterious Ways crap. The only God that would allow this doesn’t give a shit about us. Surely you know that!”

“We’re alive, Bea. He’s not, but we are.”

“We’re just amoebas. Scum on the surface of the earth.”

“Now you’re just venting. It’s okay, Bea. Venting is good sometimes. Did you love him?”

Bea turned back to the grave, imagining the bones underneath it.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you just loved an amoeba? We’re more than that, Bea. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t hurt so bad.”

“I don’t believe in your religion, Pastor Karen, but I’m coming to understand the need for it at least. I’m glad you’re here. You help people get over things like this.”

“I try to help people cope, Bea, but no one gets over it. Death and religion are inseparable.”

“I saw him, Pastor. Down there in the mine. For just a minute, I thought I saw him. I was probably imagining it though.”

“Could be. Your mother believed, Bea.”

“Didn’t do her much good, did it.”

“I don’t know. She went through a lot, Bea, and not just the illness. She believed, and she loved you and your father an awful lot. I think her faith helped her get through each day.”

“Careful, Pastor K. My mom is a touchy subject with me, okay?”

“Okay Bea. But if you ever need to talk… you know where I am.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Bea said.

As if on cue, the rain began again. Pastor Karen opened her umbrella and handed it to Bea. She took it gratefully, and held it over both their heads as they walked back to where the cars waited.

************

The police finally released their report, detailing the Black Goat cult and their sacrifices. The story rekindled interest in Possum Springs for another month, but the attention on Bea and her friends who had first found the sacrifices waned as the magnitude of the crime was revealed. But even that horrific revelation soon faded from the public eye since all had apparently died in the cave-in and there would be no trial to focus attention on the murders.

Bea didn’t know any of the members well, and she was glad of that. Angus apparently knew one of them as a former co-worker at the Video Outpost II, but they’d never been friendly.

Spring had begun to turn towards summer when a man walked into the Pickaxe that Bea recognized immediately. This time, however, he wasn’t posing as a customer, nor did he attempt to surreptitiously record her inventory on his phone. Instead he walked up to the counter.

“Hello Bea, do you remember me?”

Germ wasn’t there that day, but Mae was in the warehouse cleaning up after a recent delivery.

“Mister video. Here to finish the job?”

The old gator smiled. “Oh Bea, we finished that ages ago. We know all about your business. Things have really picked up since the mine thing, haven’t they?”

It was true enough. Though the mine was well sealed now, there were plenty of caves in the area too and spelunking in the area had really picked up. She had taken advantage of the renewed interest by stocking a wide variety of climbing and caving hardware and becoming familiar with their use. She cringed now, thinking back to. the amateurish methods they had used back then, and how lucky they’d been not to have hurt themselves.

“We’re doing alright. What do you want Mr. Video?”

“The name is Brown. Hamilton Brown. I work for a competitor of yours, MISS Santello.”

The guy had done his homework.

“I see. And why shouldn’t I kick you out again right now, Mr. Brown?”

He reached into his jacket and brought forth a manila envelope.

“We want to buy you out, Bea.”

Bea looked at the envelope. It was thick with papers.

“Not much of a competitor if you just buy out the competition.”

“Look through those papers tonight before you reject our offer out of hand. We’ve already bought the land out by the Interstate. Groundbreaking will commence soon. As soon as the news hits, this offer will be rescinded.”

Bea’s eyes opened wide. “Home Badger.”

Mr. Brown nodded.  “Bea, we will put you out of business and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You know it already. But we have a proposal for you. An absurdly lucrative proposal, given your revenue.  But we do our research too. Somehow, even as young as you are, you’ve amassed quite a lot of good will here in Possum Springs. Especially after finding those kids’ bodies. Good will is a valuable and very tangible thing. We’re willing to pay for it.”

“So, what’s your angle, Mr. Brown? You just want to buy the Pickaxe, and shut it down?”

“There are those who had intended something like that. But they’ve been overruled. No, Bea. We want to buy the Pickaxe and keep it open - as an extension of the new mega-store Home Badger. We’ll even keep the name. ‘The Ol’ Pickaxe - Your Neighborhood Store, by Home Badger’. You may not have noticed, but the downtown area here is going through something of a renaissance. We’d like to be a part of that.”

“I already am a part of that,” Bea said, sliding the envelope back. “I’ll take my chances, thanks.”

“Bea,” said Mr. Brown, sliding the envelope back again. “Please, take a look. We’re not your enemy - or at least we don’t have to be. We can be your partner, if you’ll consider it. Bea, it may take a year or two, but eventually your business is going to fade as your customers begin to abandon you. You could keep the doors open, but your profits will dwindle even more. You’re barely making ends meet now, and that’s with… shall we say… questionable employment practices. It will only get worse. Please, consider it. Talk it over with your father.”

Bea’s natural reaction was to fight it. But time had tamed her tendencies to snap judgments.

She looked at the old gator. Underneath his polished exterior, his eyes looked bright. 

“Do you get a bonus if I agree, Mr. Brown?”

“Of course I do. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a good deal. I think you’ll agree when you read the details. You’ll want to hire a lawyer to go over the fine print, but I’m confident there’s nothing in there that you’ll be opposed to.”

“It’s not my store, you know,” Bea said, but she took the envelope and put it on a shelf under the counter.

“No, but it might as well be. Your father isn’t well. You’ve done very good by him, but he’s not getting better. He needs help, Bea. Professional help. And not by your Dr. Hanks. This could provide that help.”

“At the cost of the business he worked all his life to build,” Bea responded, but without much heat. She wasn’t so sure.

“Read the offer, Bea. It’s only the first two pages that covers all the major points.”

“The devil is in the details though.”

“That’s what lawyers are for, but I don’t think you’ll find any devils in here. You know what we want, Bea. We’re willing to pay handsomely for it. What we really want is your goodwill. We don’t want the people in and around Possum Springs to see us as big-city interlopers. We want to be your partner. But yes, we would own the Pickaxe.”

“Get out of my store, Mr. Brown.”

He nodded and produced a card. It had only his name and a phone number printed on it, but the background color was the unmistakable hue of the Home Badger. She took it and slid it in with the other papers in the envelope as he left.

Mae came in from the back.

“Who was that?”

Bea looked up from the envelope. When she’d opened it to insert the card, she’d seen a number on the first page. A very, very large number.

“Huh? Oh. That’s Mr. Brown. Nothing important.”

[creative-type]

Confidentiality

Word count: ~4000 AO3 Summary:  He was the youngest, most naive Straw Hat, but Chopper was also a doctor, and doctors keep their patient's secrets. 

"Any dizziness, lightheadedness, or blurred vision?" Chopper asked as he listened to Nami's heart.

"No, no, and no."

The newest Straw Hat was learning quickly that hearty constitutions were the norm for this strange little crew. For someone who had been deathly ill less than a week prior, Nami seemed to be in remarkably good spirits. But the fact remained that she had nearly been killed by a prehistoric disease, and that regular checkups were a must until Chopper was certain she would not relapse.

Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub. The steady, even rhythm was soothing. It really did seem like she was fully recovered. It was the closest thing to a miracle Chopper had seen in his short medical career.

"Hey, there's something I wanted to ask you earlier, but I forgot," Chopper said.

"Sure," Nami said with a soft smile that made him want to squirm in delight.

"Who's Arlong?"

Lub dub, lubdub, lubdublubdub…The room went deathly silent as Nami's heart began to race, and Chopper realized he had asked something very bad without even meaning to.

"Where did you hear that name?"

The sharp, almost panicked tone in her voice made him cringe. Hiding his face with his hat, Chopper tried not to see that his indomitable navigator (his new friend) was scared.

"Y-you did. When you were sick." Nami paled, and the scared look was replaced with one of horror. "Y-you were delirious. You said something about maps, and that…and that you'd have them finished on time."

Nami's arms went limp by her side, and she stared blankly ahead without seeing.

"You asked him not to hurt you."

The statement snapped her back into reality. Nami grabbed the front of Chopper's lab coat, her gaze burning with anger. "Don't you dare tell anyone. I'll deny it till I'm blue in the face. I'll call you a liar and make you wish you were never born."

"I-I wasn't going to!" Chopper stammered.

"You said it yourself, I was delirious. No one would believe you anyway."

"Nami, I'm your doctor! I would never tell anyone what happened when you were sick!"

"I—you wouldn't?" Nami seemed to remember herself, letting go of his clothes as if they were on fire.

"No, I wouldn't!" Chopper exclaimed as he took a step backward.

"Oh." Nami looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Then her hand moved to her shoulder, tracing her tattoo with one finger. "I'm sorry. It's just that Arlong…Arlong wasn't a very nice man."

Chopper nodded his understanding. "Neither was Wapol, but he's gone now. Arlong's not here either, so you're safe." His spirits lifted when he saw a small smile on the navigator's face. "But if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

Nami reached out and touched his cheek tenderly. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it."

With a metal nose, blue hair, and forearms bigger than a normal man's thigh, Franky could never be described as normal. Add in cola-fueled energy systems, air cannons that shot out of his hands, and the ability to turn into a reverse centaur, Franky was downright freakish.

Chopper didn't mind. There were monsters aplenty aboard the Thousand Sunny. Franky and his cyborg body fit right in with the rest.

Besides, the shipwright was proud of his handiwork. Hardly a day went by where he didn't demonstrate some insane feature he had installed into himself all those years ago. He and Usopp would often joke with one another about what upgrades he would attempt next, each more ridiculous than the last.

Seriously, who else besides Franky would think that nipple lights were a good idea?

There was, however, one sore spot, one not-so-insignificant part of himself that Franky deemed less than super.

"Promise not to laugh?" he asked nervously the first time Chopper examined him.

"I never laugh at my patients," Chopper answered solemnly.

"I can't…I can't have kids."

Chopper blinked, unsure of what he was supposed to say. Franky rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "When the sea train hit me, it did a lot of damage, er, down there." His cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment. "I made sure it looks normal, and there's still feeling, but I can't…"

"Have kids," Chopper answered for him.

"Yeah."

"Is that something you want?"

"No! Not now, but in the future, yeah…maybe, I dunno. It's not…manly."

Chopper nodded his understanding, although he was still amazed he was having this conversation with Franky, who seemed more interested in mechanics and robotics than romance and children.

He put a hoof on Franky's knee and gave him an encouraging smile. "If something, or someone, makes you change your mind in the future, talk to me. There are some treatment options we can try."

"Really? That's…that's super. Thanks, bro. And…if you don't mind keeping this to yourself…"

"Of course."

"What happened?!" Chopper shrieked, resisting the urge to punch Zoro right in his big, fat chin. The bleeding had stopped, but the wounds would reopen with the slightest provocation. He had seen Zoro beaten and bloody before, but the mysterious altercation at Thriller Bark had left him shredded. In places it had been difficult to find enough healthy tissue to stitch back together.

"Nothing," the swordsman replied with the same unnatural calmness he had exhibited since regaining consciousness. Normally when injured he was rushing to resume his training, wanting to excise the weakness that had led to him being hurt. This time was different. Zoro had accepted the outcome of this particular altercation with surprising grace.

It was infuriating, and Chopper was at his wits end. It was moments like this that led him to believe that Doctorine was right to throw scalpels at her patients.

"I. Am. Your doctor!" Chopper exclaimed. "I need to know what happened!"

"No you don't."

Without thinking, Chopper transformed into his full human form, looming over the swordsman as he poked a finger at the one unbandaged part of his torso. "And if you bleed to death because I didn't know the proper means of treatment?"

"Then that's as far down the path I could make it," Zoro said with a lopsided shrug.

"No, you selfish asshole!" Chopper yelled. He had never talked to one of his crewmates like this before, and he hated it. He hated it, because it wasn't even necessary. Sometimes Zoro's pride was as bad as Sanji's chivalry, but at least Sanji had the decency to admit his deference to the fairer sex would someday be the death of him.

"If I can't heal you that means…that means I failed. That I'm n-not good enough for my dream…" Chopper's vision blurred, and he couldn't keep the tears from falling. "I d-don't want you t-to die. I c-can't help you if I don't kn-know what's wr-wrong."

With one piteous sniff, Chopper reverted to his normal hybrid form and sat in the middle of the floor of his infirmary. He cried, not because he was frustrated (that happened all the time with Zoro as a patient) but because he was exhausted. The Straw Hat Pirates had been in so many life and death situations in such a short amount of time, Chopper wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He heard Zoro sigh, and the swordsman joined him on the ground. Leaning back with a small wince, Zoro looked at the ceiling in thought.

"I'm through the worst of it now," he said. "I'm not gonna die."

"B-but it doesn't make sense. Your injuries, I've never seen a-anything like it before. I'm s-scared, b-because….because I don't know what could do that to you, or if it'll happen again." Chopper wiped his eyes with his hooves. "It's as if…as if something was pushing from the inside out. All your muscles and major blood vessels had damage in their innermost layers. Like…like…"

"Like they'd been stretched," Zoro supplied.

"Yes, like if Luffy stretched his whole body too far all at once." Chopper shook his head when he thought of their captain. For once, Luffy had managed to come out of an adventure unharmed. If anything, it was the opposite.

"Exactly like Luffy," Zoro repeated, before falling silent and letting him put the pieces together.

"…You didn't," Chopper whispered when it dawned on him. "How…?"

"That doesn't matter," Zoro said, this time his tone indicating the subject was closed for good. "I'm not going to die. You did your job, Chopper, just like I had to do mine."

"O-okay."

"Luffy can never know," Zoro said. "I only told you so you'd stop worrying."

It seemed impossible, but in that moment Chopper's respect for Zoro grew even more. And to be trusted with a secret this huge meant that Zoro respected him back. Chopper nodded, brushing away the last of his tears.

"Okay."

"Hey, Chopper, is it normal when people talk to themselves?"

Chopper roused himself, blinking sleepily at Usopp. It was a quiet, warm afternoon, and the crew was all worn out from a recent skirmish with the marines. "That depends, I guess."

"Oh." Usopp leaned back on his haunches.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Usopp said quickly. "It's just…I know this guy…"

"Sogeking?" Chopper asked excitedly. Since Enies Lobby, Usopp had kept in touch with his superhero friend, and was more than happy to regale to anyone who would listen with stories of his heroic exploits.

Usopp thought about it for a moment. "Actually, it is. It's not him, per say, but his, er, sidekick. Yeah. Sogeking's sidekick, Sniper Lad, has been, well, talking to himself. He—that is Sogeking—is concerned. Because that's not normal, right?"

"What's he saying?" Chopper asked.

"Nothing bad. Pep talks, mostly."

"Hmm. It's hard to say. I don't want to make a premature judgment when I've never seen the patient."

"I understand."

"But…" Chopper tapped his chin. "Mental health is a spectrum. Health in general is a spectrum. A lot of people like to have black and white definitions of 'sane' and 'insane', but it doesn't work like that, just like there isn't a clear-cut way to say someone is 'healthy' or 'unhealthy'.

"As the sidekick to a successful hero, Sniper Lad has a very stressful and demanding job. If he's not contemplating doing harm to himself or others and uses it simply as a means to cope...Did Sogeking say if these 'pep talks' helped or not?"

"They've gotten the job done," Usopp said.

"Okay. Without knowing more information, I'd say there's nothing to worry about. People deal with stress in different ways, and if that's what works for Sniper Lad…" Chopper looked back up towards the sky. "Who is anyone else to judge?"

"That's good. I, er, Sogeking was getting really worried there for a second."

Chopper closed his eyes, ready to resume his nap. "I'd like to meet Sniper Lad someday. It's a shame Sogeking had to leave so quickly after Enies Lobby. He would have been a real help against Oars. But I guess he's busy with hero stuff."

"Yeah," Usopp said quietly. "I guess he is."

It wasn't often post-battle checkups made Chopper feel sad. Angry, incredulous, or frustrated, yes, maybe even awed if a wound was spectacular enough. But never sad.

His assessment of Robin after her rescue made Chopper sad.

A single, massive contusion covered her abdomen, the bruises a harsh bluish-purple. An abrasion started at the crest of her hip, disappearing beneath her pants. Worst was the bruising on her shoulders. Chopper could still see the individual finger prints from where she had been grabbed.

"Elephant sword, mostly," Robin said, answering the question he was too scared to ask.

Chopper made a distressed noise and tenderly touched a mark by her kidney. It was uncomfortably similar to the shape of a boot, and he was grateful he had already run the tests that ruled out internal bleeding. "Robin, how long have you had suicidal thoughts?"

"Excuse me?" Robin asked, shying away from his touch for the first time.

"You said you wanted to die," Chopper said, eyes misting at the terrible memory. "H-how long have you thought that?" And how long have I missed clinical depression in one of my patients?

Instead of avoiding the question as he half-feared she might, Robin tilted her head in thought. "I don't know exactly how long it's been, Doctor. Archeologists think about death a great deal simply by the nature of their work, and when I started doing more…unsavory deeds to ensure survival, my awareness of my mortality only increased. But actually wanting to die?" A tiny frown appeared on her face, and her eyes grew distant. "Fifteen years, maybe? It's not constant, but during low moments I've at least entertained the notion."

Chopper's stomach twisted into knots. Fifteen years was as long as he'd been alive, humanly-speaking. "Have you ever tried to…to…"

"Not directly, no. I owe too much to too many people to take my life with my own hand, no matter how badly I may have wanted to in the past." Robin looked down at Chopper intently. "Doctor, I'm asking for your discretion in this matter. The others can't know, not after all that's happened."

"A doctor never tells his patient's secrets."

They were silent as Chopper continued his assessment. Robin probably had a few cracked ribs, but there was little he could do for those other than pain control. As he examined her skull, he found several tender areas and a scab where a chunk of hair had been ripped from her scalp. One of her teeth had a large chip in it.

Sensing his mounting distress, Robin touched Chopper's shoulder reassuringly. Her eyes were tired, but her smile was warm. "I left because I didn't have those thoughts here. From the time I joined Straw Hats until Aokiji's attack…I was happy. After digging out of the pit and tasting the sunlight, I didn't want to go back to the darkness. I thought the betrayal was inevitable, and I had no choice but to go back. I was wrong, and I will fight with every fiber of my being to stay with this crew for as long as I can."

Her battered body was evidence enough of that. "Good. But, Robin, if anything happens and there's another low moment…I'm here for you."

Robin's smile widened, and she squeezed his shoulder. "I know."

One of the most exciting things about reuniting after two years was discovering what new things the Straw Hats had learned during their separation. Usopp had his new arsenal of plants, Sanji could set things on fire under water, and Brook��

Brook's new abilities were totally awesome.

"I can't believe it!" Chopper exclaimed. "You got your head cut off and lived!"

Brook took a sip of tea, obviously pleased with himself. "Well, yes. I suppose I did, didn't I?"

"That's amazing!"

"I would have thought you would be more impressed with Mr. Franky's new machines," Brook chuckled. "All I did was improve my control over my Devil Fruit."

"That's cool, but do you know what that means for me as a doctor?" Chopper nearly burst with excitement at the thought. "I have a patient who can get his head cut off and not die. That makes my job so much easier."

"Well, technically, I've already died…"

"Think of the possibilities!"

Brook set his tea down. "I have, actually, and I'd rather not do it again," he said quietly.

"Huh? Why not?" Chopper asked.

"My body was already somewhat durable. A skeleton does not truly need to eat or drink, nor does it have fleshly parts that can fall prey to disease or decay. I've lived this second life for over fifty years, and I am no different than the day my soul returned to my body."

The crux of Brook's problem dawned on Chopper, and some of his elation deflated.

"My body is held together with the energy of the Underworld. You will all age and will eventually pass on, and even when I'm reunited with Laboon, he will not live forever. I've lost those closest to me once before, and I don't want to experience that ever again."

"Oh."

"But," Brook said sadly, "I'm not certain I can die. Perhaps if what is left of me was destroyed completely, maybe, but I've learned how to project my soul outside my body. And obviously it's not something I want to go around testing, on the off-chance I'm wrong. Not yet, at least."

Chopper was quiet for a moment. "You know, Doctorine told me stories of dying people remaining in an unconscious state for over a week until family could arrive to say goodbye, and others who hold on long enough to see their children married or to hold the grandchildren for the first time and only to pass a few hours later. She always thought that people had some control over when they died. You've got a lot to live for, but when your time comes I think you'll be able to let go."

"Yohohoho, I had never thought of it that way. Thank you, Chopper. Of course, there's quite a lot I wish to accomplish before that happens." A grin spread across his skull, and Brook patted the top of Chopper's hat. "Let's not talk of such unpleasant matters any longer. It's been too long since I've seen you…though I don't have eyes…and I want to know how you've managed to develop such wonderful new transformations."

Sanji claimed he never got sick, and technically that was true.

He did, however, get short of breath.

Chopper shook his head as he pulled his stethoscope away from Sanji's chest. The symptoms were subtle, but to Chopper's sensitive ears they were as plain as day. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I think all those cigarettes are catching up with you."

"You 'think'?" Sanji said.

"It's polite doctor-speak for 'smoking two packs of cigarettes a day is going to kill you'. But I'm sure you knew that already."

"Hey, no need to be hostile," Sanji said crossly. His fingers twitched, and Chopper knew he was fighting the urge to pull out a cigarette at that moment. Chopper was very flexible when it came to doctoring, but he absolutely refused to let Sanji smoke in his infirmary.

"We've been through this before. I guess I'm just frustrated," Chopper said. "You know the risks."

"I do, and that doesn't change the fact I'm going to light up just as soon as I go through that door."

"Can't you at least cut back a little?" Chopper pleaded. "No girl's going to want to kiss you if your breath smells like tobacco."

Sanji threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, you poor, ignorant bastard. Why do you think I started in the first place? It gives me an aura of mystery that matches perfectly with my handsome charm. Look up debonair in the dictionary, and there's probably a picture of me with a cigarette."

"That same picture would also be listed under lung cancer," Chopper said.

"Well, if I live long enough to get to that point, I give you permission to laugh at my sorry ass."

"No. I'll be too busy trying to keep you alive, despite your terminal case of hopeless idiocy," Chopper said, managing a smile.

Sanji snorted. "That's something, I guess. How bad is it, Chopper?"

"You're in the early stages of lung disease. I'll make up some treatments, but as far as I can tell none of your abilities have been compromised yet."

"That's good," Sanji said, and the relief in his visible eye was nearly palpable. "No reason to give Moss Head another reason to exercise his superiority complex."

"And there's no reason to worry the rest of the crew," Chopper agreed. "All the symptoms are reversible. For now."

"Okay." Sanji stood to leave. "I'm sure there will be plenty of I-told-you-sos later, but I really need a smoke."

"Good doctors don't say I told you so," Chopper said quietly. "They stick with their patients, through thick and thin."

Sanji stared at him in surprise, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. "Then I'm glad you're my doctor, 'cause you're the best there is."

Burns were tricky. Really, having a large amount of scar tissue regardless of cause was tricky. The new skin wasn't as flexible or strong, and if the wound went deep enough the underlying areas were affected as well. No matter how cool looking, Chopper was glad when his patents didn't scar. It was healthier that way.

It was, of course, impossible to avoid all of the time. The Straw Hats were pirates, with all of the danger that entailed. But Chopper considered it a matter of pride that he was able to treat his friend's wounds without leaving behind long-term complications.

Which, in a way, explained why he felt so guilty when he saw Luffy's chest. The X-shaped scar showed how he had been unable to be there in his captain's time of need, not just during the battle, but during the time of recovery as well. Whoever had done the initial treatment had done a serviceable job, though Chopper believed he could have done better, had he been there to try.

"Does it hurt?" Chopper asked softly, palpating the edges of the wound.

"Every day," Luffy said in his normal, simple way, as if it were no problem at all.

"I could help with that," Chopper said. "It's the least I could do after I wasn't there to help…"

"That wasn't your fault, Chopper. I don't want you to say it was ever again, captain's orders," Luffy said, with a seriousness that was usually absent from his voice. "I was the one who wasn't strong enough. Me, and no one else."

"But…" Chopper faltered when Luffy glared at him. "It's not your fault, either."

Luffy leaned back, a sullen expression on his face. "Maybe not, but I'm still gonna make sure it never happens again. I'm strong enough now, I swear."

"I know."

Slowly, Luffy's normal grin returned. "I'm not good at very many things. I can't be the Pirate King without you."

"That doesn't make me happy at all, asshole," Chopper said, delighted.

"Shishishi," Luffy laughed quietly. Then he looked down at his scar, and the serious expression came back. He blinked a few times, very rapidly as if he were trying not to cry, and when he looked at Chopper again his eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

There was a second reason Chopper did not like scars, one that was more psychological than medical. He did not like his patients to be reminded of their trauma every time they looked in a mirror. When Chopper was able to heal someone without leaving a visible mark, he liked to think he had helped heal them on the emotional level as well. He would never pretend that the pain had never happened, but he did think that it made it easier to move on.

Luffy didn't have that opportunity. Every day he would be faced with the evidence of his brother's death.

"And we've gotten stronger, too," Chopper said. "We'll be right behind you, no matter where you go."

A look of pure relief coursed through Luffy's body. He wiped his eyes and gave Chopper a wobbly smile. Maybe two years wasn't enough to completely heal him from the events that took place during the Marineford War, but that was okay. Luffy was well on his way, and Chopper would see to it that his broken heart was made whole again.

[reddirtramblings]

My first season of beekeeping.

Several people have asked about my bees and my first season of beekeeping so I thought I would share some photos my daughter, Claire, took of a hive inspection yesterday. When I’m working alone, I don’t have enough hands to take photos very easily, and I haven’t yet created a setup like some beekeepers to take video. Maybe I will someday, but now, I’m doing good to hold the frames, smoke the hive and watch out for the small insects.

They don’t always take kindly to being disturbed.

Lighting my smoker.

Beekeeping has its own language.

The first thing I had to learn was all the different beekeeping terminology. Just like gardening, beekeeping has its own language. I may mention one or more of these terms throughout this post so I want to explain them as best I can.

Hives are the structures you place your colony in so when you refer to your colony, you’re referring to the bees themselves. The hive is where they live. A Langstroth hive is composed of many parts, but usually has a bottom board, two hive bodies (sometimes called boxes, deeps or mediums) and one or more supers for honey. Supers are not usually as deep as a hive body because they hold the beekeeper’s honey, and capped (finished) honey is heavy stuff.  The Langstroth hive also has an inner cover, a base, the top cover and a queen excluder. Hive bodies may have ten frames or eight frames, and they are very heavy when filled with honey, brood, and bees.

[Click on the photos in the galleries to enlarge them.]

A full hive inspection.

Walking through two borders down to the hive.

Walking down to the hive past my little green she shed. The hive is located beyond the southern magnolia tree I planted over twenty years ago.

I try to do at least a partial hive inspection every two weeks, and I visually look in on the bees almost daily watching them going to and from the hive. I can often tell what is going on in the hive just by watching their front door. For example, if we’re having very hot weather, many of the bees will hang out on the outside of the hive to give the nurse bees and their brood space for better airflow. Other bees will use their wings to fan the front of the hive. In the evenings, there is often a traffic jam as the bees return to the hive, the pollen baskets on their legs and their honey stomachs full of pollen and honey for the colony.

By our pond, I watched on a really hot day as worker bees sucked up water and carried it back to the hive. Water is also used to cool the hive.

The day before yesterday, I opened the entire hive down to the bottom hive body and did a full inspection. We’re two-thirds of the way through summer. I was trying to ascertain whether the queen was laying well, and just generally, whether the colony was happy and thriving. They are, although I’m not sure if they might be a little honey bound. I did see the queen for the first time since the bees released her from her queen cage. The queen bee is very shy and moves very fast. Sometimes, it’s hard to find her, and she, being the most important bee in the colony, you don’t want to accidentally squish her.

Bees can become honey bound and then the queen doesn’t have anywhere to lay. My beekeeping mentor, Pat White, told me to try putting on the super (the smallest box on top) without a queen excluder and check on things in a week. This is to prevent the bees from possibly swarming this fall, or not raising enough brood to get through winter.

Not the most flattering picture, but it does show the entire hive yesterday. I’m getting ready to take off the top cover, and next to me are the super and its more shallow frames. Beekeepers only take honey from the super. I’m moving the queen excluder and my top rock out of my way.

Beekeeping keeps a red-dirt girl humble. I feel like I learn one thing and then forget two things every time I go out to the hive and check on my little colony. In late March, I started with one package of bees. Knowing what I know now, I would buy two packages or nucs because you can sometimes solve problems with one hive with frames of brood from another. A three-pound package of bees has about 10,000 bees and a mated queen whom they don’t know. That’s why you carefully introduce her to the workers, and they hopefully accept her. A nuc or nucleus of bees has three to five frames of bees with brood, honey, and some pollen, along with a current year’s mated queen. I think I’ll invest in a nucleus next year, but I’ll talk to my mentor first. A nuc is, of course, more expensive.

In the beginning, I fed my package of bees regularly to help them make honey when there weren’t many flowers, and I also fed them when our temperatures rose to over 100°F for two weeks about four weeks ago. I stopped feeding them a week ago when temperatures moderated. It is hard to know when we’re in the middle of a honey dearth in my part of Oklahoma. The heat sure makes things hard, but goldenrod is starting to bloom so it, with the asters and simple mums, should keep the bees happy. They are all still feeding on the summer flowers. Hopefully, I’ve done enough to prepare them. I’ll know more in a week or two.

Taking off the top cover to expose the inner cover. There were lots of bees in the top hive body after the inspection the day before. Angry honey bees.

Here, I’m prying open the top cover, and I’ll need to smoke them right after especially if they’re grumpy.

Smoking the bees to get them to go down into the hive. People think smoke calms them, but really, it just tells them their hive is on fire. Poor bees.

After I smoke them, the bees run back down into the hive body. All their little faces were staring up at me though.

After talking to Pat, I went down with the super and empty frames to install them. I thought I might look again at the top hive body, but the bees were still angry from the day before and weren’t having any of it. I knew that when one immediately stung my glove. No, it didn’t hurt because she couldn’t sting through my glove. So, I just pulled one honey frame from the outside and then decided I could look at things more closely next week.

Lifting the first frame out of the upper hive body.

Nectar honey frames are usually on the outside with brood frames in the middle. This isn’t always true, but nothing in beekeeping is always true.

Inspecting a honey frame. I didn’t go any further because I’d already tried their patience the day before.

Putting the frame back into the hive.

It was a bit breezy which also puts them in an ill temper, and my colony isn’t the friendliest one I’ve ever seen anyway. They are pretty mighty though so I don’t take it personally. I am, after all, breaking into their home. So, I pulled one honey frame and looked at it and then decided to just install the super and be on my way. No reason to upset them further that day.

Placing the super on top of the hive body. After you lay down some smoke, you place it on an angle to keep from squishing bees.

Placing shallow super frames in the super. Since I’m not taking honey from this hive until next year, it’s okay that I didn’t put on the queen excluder. I want her to have room to lay more eggs.

Replacing the inner cover and reaching for the top cover.

Placing the top cover back with the red rock on top.

I think having gardened for years and years it’s easier for me to get into the zone of calm you need to keep from being frightened of your bees even when they’re upset. I’m respectful of them, and I appreciate the job they do helping to pollinate my garden. I also admire how they care for each other. I’ll leave you with one more bee pic, and it’s my favorite of the day. Check out the small honey bee returning to the hive. Most of the foragers were out gathering nectar and pollen because I always check my bees in the middle of the afternoon. Fewer bees. Fewer problems.

My favorite photo of the day is of a worker bee flying into the hive.

So, that’s this week’s honey bee fun. I find the whole process rather miraculous. Please comment with any questions you have, and I’ll try to answer them. If I don’t know the answer, I bet I know someone who does.

My first season of beekeeping My first season of beekeeping. Several people have asked about my bees and my first season of beekeeping so I thought I would share some photos my daughter, Claire, took of a hive inspection yesterday.

[benjamingarden]

This Month On The Farm: July 2020

July's weather was full-on summer complete with heat, humidity, and lots o' sunshine.  And surprisingly, a lack of mosquitoes.  Hooray for that!  We did receive some rain and when we did, oh boy was it a lot.

Tents - Not Just For Camping

As you can see in the photo above, we decided to make use of a couple of our extra craft show tents and set them up on the upper and lower decks.  On the upper deck it's wide open, used just for rain cover and shade (Ollie is afraid of the netting walls so we left them off).  On the lower deck we used the netting walls and put our outdoor table and chairs inside so we can enjoy eating or sitting outside without bugs attacking.  Ollie, as noted, is afraid of the walls but if he's sitting in his tower with me by his side, he deals with it ok.

gutters and rain barrel installed!

Barrels Of Rain

Woo hoo!  Jay was able to get the gutters installed on the outbuildings and the rain barrels are up and working.  This has been on our "someday" list for years.  Years!  We've been able to successfully use the barrels to water the garden through most of the month, only needing to resort to our well water a couple of times.

Harvesting

As I've mentioned (probably too many times), our garden is mostly shaded.  We receive morning sun over about 70% of it and afternoon sun for a few hours over it all, and it's fully shaded the remainder of the day.  And so, our harvesting starts late.  Then, of course, we had the infamous whistle pig debacle that set us back a bit but we are now enjoying the fruits of our labor.

Green beans are coming in by the bushel.  I know that many people don't enjoy frozen green beans but we do, so I grow enough to enjoy fresh weekly as well as enough to put up in the freezer for winter and springtime eating.  I planted 3 types this year: Blue Lake, Red Noodle, and Calima Bush Beans.  The Red Noodle are still small and green but this is the first year we've planted them so, fingers crossed, they are delicious.

We finally have tomatoes!!!  Well, we finally have ripe tomatoes!  We have a ton, I mean TON, of green tomatoes amidst the 25 plants so we will definitely have plenty for fresh eating as well as for oven-drying to freeze for sauce during the winter.

We are also harvesting onions, cabbage, kale, swiss chard, mixed greens, arugula, microgreens, peppers (jalapeno, ancho, and bell), summer squash, zucchini, the last of the peas, beets, blueberries, blackberries, herbs and radish.

our sweet potato hill

Sadly, our pear and asian pear trees did not do well this year.  I've ordered new "partners" for them (and the paw paw tree) so our hope is we will be swimming in their fruits in a couple of years!  And our whistle pig took out all of our summer broccoli and cauliflower so we won't be harvesting either of those until fall.

At the start of the season I would grab a big bowl from the cupboard and Ollie and I would head to the garden to harvest whatever was ready.  One day, as my bowl was so full the veggies were spilling out of it, Jay looked at me and said "you need a bucket or a basket or something".  I said "I know.  Someone I follow on Instagram just posted a picture of her harvest basket that her husband made.  It was nice - metal mesh and wood sides and handle.  You're too busy though, so maybe next year."  I didn't give it another thought.

Later in the week Jay comes out of his shop holding the PERFECT harvest basket.  He had made it in between other projects he was working on.  Such a sweet gift! 

So now, Ollie and I take our harvest basket with us to the garden on our daily check-in.

looking up one of our mammoth sunflowers

the 2 mammoth sunflowers that survived the whistle pig feast are on the left

Homestead Projects

We have a list of projects that we are hoping to accomplish before fall.  We've managed to check off some of the easier projects, but not so much the larger projects.  Here's what we're chipping away at:

paint the dining room (done)

stain the back deck (done)

paint the living room

fix columns and lay new flooring on one of the two front porches (second porch will be done next year)

paint 2 sides of the house (same color, just refreshing it - the other 2 sides will be done next year)

install fence around the garden (temporarily done - permanent fencing will be done next spring)

build and install a new outdoor pole light in the front yard

build a small nesting box area/water station for garden (so when the chickens are tasked with the garden fall clean-up, they have a place to lay eggs)

chop and stack wood for the woodstove in the shop (done although we may chop a bit more)

install gutters on the outbuildings and hook-up rain barrels (done)

create a raised bed hoop house for one of our garden beds so we can grow greens through late fall/early winter (done for now - we purchased/found the items needed to make this in fall)

Animals

We are not going to add any more animals to the homestead for now and that includes chickens.  The current flock will get smaller, gradually, as the inevitable happens.  We had one pass away this week, she was one of the older girls, and we fully anticipate a few more passing this year from old age.  It certainly doesn't get any easier to deal with death, but at least we have developed a bit of a plan now, of keeping them safe and comfortable during the process.  We also know more about signs, because with chickens, they usually mask illness.  This helps us so we can watch closer and try to make sure they are protected.  

Death is one of the parts of having animals that is so difficult.  Unfortunately, as birds become sick and/or begin the dying process, some of the others can become very cannibalistic.  It's not a pretty sight.  So once we see that one of the girls isn't feeling well, we are able to remove them, but not totally, from the flock.  They are social creatures, so full removal seems to make them stressed and upset.  Instead, we make sure they are separated by a fence allowing them to still feel a part of the flock without getting incessantly pecked at and stepped on.  And no, we don't let them suffer.  If there's any sign of that, and we've done all we can do to make them well, we step in.  

Our overall plan is to get out of the egg-selling business and keep a very small flock (6-8 girls).  With a flock of 24 girls, it will take some time for the flock to naturally reduce (we're down from the 32 we had last year), so we won't be bringing in any chicks until we have less then 8 girls.

zucchini chocolate chip muffins

What Do You Do With All Of That Zucchini?

Isn't this the question you ask yourself every single year?  I always think I have a plan to keep up with it but I struggle by August.  I give it a heck of an effort though.  Here's what we've been doing with our zucchini:

slicing it lengthwise and grilling it (alternatively, you could broil or bake it).  We both love it.  Jay sprinkles a bit of parmesan on his and I like mine plain.  It's sooooo juicy and delicious.

cutting it into chunks and sautéing it with onions and corn.  I add a bit of butter to Jay's and mine is plain.  We just love the combination.

stuffing it.  As noted in this weekending post (at the bottom), I always enjoy coming up with new stuffing ideas.  The key is to bake, boil, or grill the scooped out zucchini halves before you fill and bake them so they are nice and soft once finished.

making our very favorite chocolate zucchini cake. Even my husband who isn't the world's biggest chocolate fan LOVES both versions.  The original version is here.  The healthier/reduced oil and sugar version is here.

making Kate's recipe for healthier zucchini bread.

making zucchini and chocolate chip muffins.  They are ah-mazing!  I just realized I've never shared the recipe here.  I'll try to get that on the blog!

making zucchini noodles with homemade pesto.  Soooo good!

adding zucchini to grilled kebabs.  (everything gets marinated in italian dressing first)

adding zucchini to soups such as minestrone.

making zucchini cobbler.  (tastes just like apple cobbler)

making veggie stew.  I use zucchini and whatever fresh veg is in the garden to make stew as the temps begin to drop in the fall.

I'm not a big fan of eating it raw (there's a weirdness to it) or as zucchini "fries", so those didn't make the list.  We've made zucchini pickles in the past but we aren't huge pickle eaters so I haven't been making them.  

I'd love to hear your family's favorite ways to eat zucchini!

Oliver, my garden/kitchen/preserving/everything helper

Preserving, Or, What We'll Be Eating This Winter

Since our garden is now in full swing, the preserving process has finally begun!  

Green beans - as noted above, they are being put up in the freezer weekly.

Peppers - so far we've only collected enough jalapeno's to preserve, so those have been made into pickled jalapeno rings.

Relish - our cucumbers are struggling this year.  I've never had an issue with cukes, so I'm not sure what's happening.  So we purchased some cucumbers from the farmer's market and, along with our bell peppers and onions we'll can enough relish for my husband to enjoy with his occasional hot dog lunch.

Zucchini - I did freeze some grated zucchini (portioned into 2 cup servings) that I can add to muffins, quick breads, etc.

Onions - we are drying quite a few and then I'll chop and freeze the remainder.

How do you figure out how much veggies to preserve?  This is a question I receive a lot.  For us, this is how I plan it.  We typically rotate the same dishes all winter long so I can usually predict how often during the week we'll eat veggies such as green beans, broccoli, winter squash, tomato sauce, etc.  I then times that by how many weeks we'll need preserved food and that's how I calculate it.  So, as an example, I plan on serving green beans twice a week for 28 weeks which means I will need to freeze 56 bags of green beans (bagged in single-serving sizes).  

It gets a bit more difficult with carrots, corn, onions, canned chopped tomatoes, and peppers because I use them on their own as well as in many different dishes.  Over time, through trial and error, I've made it so I can get pretty close.  For the frozen veggies, I flash-freeze them and then store them in large, gallon-size bags, so I can just take out what I need when I'm cooking.

That's July around the homestead!

This Month On The Farm: July 2020 was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)

[belalugosisdad]

There’s a gap on my pillow.....

MitziMoo, Mitzerella, Pretty Little Mitz – 01/06/06 -13/06/20

My first meeting with Mitzi was somewhat uneventful. It was the 2nd October, 2016, a gorgeous Sunday morning, and probably the last of the year. Or, at least, that was what I thought when I decided to have a day out by the sea, and drove the 160-odd miles to visit Rachel in Portsmouth.

I knocked on Rachel’s door, at about 12:30pm, waking her up. She sat me on the sofa, insulted me at my arriving so early (!) and unannounced, and went back upstairs to make herself presentable.

When she returned, she was shadowed by two small furry figures. The black furry figure was called Mollie, and demanded fuss and attention. The white, furrier figure, who I was to learn was called Mitzi, walked past me, throwing a custard-curdling gaze over her kitty shoulder as a greeting, probably due to her premature awakening as she entered the kitchen feeding zone, then disappeared back upstairs without so much as a “how do you mew”.

As I got to know her better, I found that she had possibly the loudest meow of any cat ever. She also had a variety of voices, varying from the full on furry yell when she was hungry and / or wanted attention, to a cuter, more affectionate meow when she wanted snuggles, generally at bedtime. There was also the dreaded, deep, howling, truncated meow which indicated that she had caught something, and was bringing it for inspection. This was often accompanied by a loud, rumbling purr that could only be measured on the Richter scale

She loved playing the bubble game, which involved a bottle of bubble mixture, and she would try to catch each bubble. Her bubble-catching was so fervent that It was as though she believed that each bubble caught would save the soul of another cat. Her lightning reactions and incisive claws meant that she rarely failed.

Oh, and she sniffed everything.

One afternoon, Rachel had gone to the gym, and I was installing some new speaker cabling at Rachel’s house. As I dragged each piece of furniture out, Mitzi ran into the space, sniffing each part of the newly exposed area, and looking at me to let me know that everything was OK, it had passed inspection, and I may proceed. I did consider getting her some overalls for the future, as she was always very keen to help with DIY matters.

After I finished, I put the tools away (with furry assistance) and sat down, with a view to using a sound meter to test the 6 speaker levels, and balance the surround system while it was fairly quiet.

The next thing I knew, Mitzi had gone from sniffing the new installation, to sitting on the arm of the sofa. Suddenly she was on my lap, and, that was it. We were engaged!

Bedtimes commenced with getting into bed, assisted by Mitzi, who would come over for snuggles. Early in the morning, (about 3AM, as she was a very punctual cat) she would alight onto the pillow, rumbling loudly, and wrap herself around my head.

Due to her black and white colouring, and generous build, she was nicknamed MitziMoo, as she resembled a feline Friesian cow. I often tried to get a picture of her looking over her shoulder, so that I could create pastiche of the Pink Floyd album cover, to be called Atom Heart Mitzi, but she would never stand still for long enough.

Her white fur got everywhere. In an attempt to prevent the spread of it to all corners of the universe (I often found Mitzi’s fur in Birmingham) I bought her a Furminator grooming brush. She found that she loved being brushed.

Lots and regularly.

She would appear every 45 minutes, sit patiently, and then yell at the top of her furry little lungs for a brushing. Such was her punctuality, that it generally occurred at approximately 25 minutes past the hour (i.e. “it’s time for my 11:30”).

It didn’t solve the problem.

It was as if she was producing more fur so that she could be brushed more often, sometimes 8 times in a day. The brushings increased, and the fur got more plentiful. After I eventually developed cramp and raw palms from the endless brushings, I began to investigate the possibility of a vacuum attachment.

She and I had an almost psychic link. She knew what time I would awake, so that she would be (literally) lying in wait next to me, displaying her legendary, vast fluffy white tum, and a furry yell would emerge from the depths as soon as my eyes opened. She would then chase me down the stairs, screech to a halt in the kitchen, and demand that the door would be opened. I would then open the kitchen door, whereupon she would eagerly go outside and start eating grass.

Then yell to be let back in.

By this time, I would have made coffee, and put some food down for her. She would then proceed to the dish and eat hungrily, whilst I took my coffee to bed, and started to read. The tranquillity would soon be shattered by the unmistakeable sounds of feline vomiting.

Clearly the grass had done its work.

She always knew when I was getting ready to leave on Sunday evening. As I gathered my things together, she would appear for a last brushing before I left.

She had been ill for a while, and had a number of health issues by the time she reached 14. I don’t want to dwell on the details. That’s the worst thing about any partnership.

There is always a dark thought in the recesses of your mind that, one way or another, anything that you love will break your heart someday. That day arrived on 13th June 2020.

While I’m heartbroken at her passing, death brings into focus the memories of the good times. I’ll carry that around with me forever. Bad memories don’t last as long.

Mitzi, and her various nicknames was an easy name to fit into songs. With this in mind, Mitzi MitziMoo, I miss you. We’ll never again be off to see the Mitzi, the wonderful Mitzi of Moo, and, as The Fuzztones almost sang

“Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey Mitzerella, Where have you gone?

… I want to be your fella, Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey Mitzerella.”

There’s a gap on my pillow, and it’s where you should be.

Farewell Mitzi. You really had me at meow. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[giarts]

Celebrating Juneteenth with Black Artists!

Submitted by admin on June 18, 2020

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It’s a great holiday to be sharing with each of you today, Juneteenth! As we gather – remotely �� to honor and celebrate the power and jubilation of this day, liberation for ancestors and elders, we hope to echo the voices and experiences of Black artists who have brought us joy, made us feel seen, challenged, supported, and taught us so much. We come here with deep gratitude and deeper commitment to investing in a future of liberation for Black peoples everywhere.

Today, we join many of you commemorating the emancipation of enslaved folks in the U.S. and working toward an equitable and just field and future. This Juneteenth, the GIA team offers some reflections on personal experiences with a Black artist who has contributed to our lives.

We hope our reflections inspire sharing of your stories with Black artists who have been central in your life.

From Sherylynn

I could write an entire book on Black art, art while Black, and how inspiring it is.

Black artists continue to create despite the fact that creating art while living in a Black body will always be “a political statement.” If your art leans too much into the Black experience or is too Afro-futurist, it’s radical or controversial. If it leans too much into the Eurocentric style, it’s political because “what makes you think you belong in this space?” Yet still, we keep creating art to teach, heal, entertain, find solace and fulfillment, and spread joy. I love that.

Jean-Michel Basquiat said it best, “I don’t listen to what art critics say. I don’t know anybody who needs a critic to find out what art is.”

Thank you, Black artists. Keep creating unapologetically. Here is to more life and more freedom, (raises glass), Happy Juneteenth!

From Carmen

As I write these words, Prince and Janet Jackson take turns in my Spotify. I can’t decide which of them has been more influential in my life, since as a die-hard music lover, I grew up with both as MTV and VH1 filled my after-school hours.

Video after video, Janet taught me many dance moves and, in doing so, she taught me so much about confidence and joy. In my senior year, I took many of those lessons and translated them to an interpretation of one of her classics, “If.” Back then I asked four friends to dance with me and we spent many afternoons rehearsing our choreography. I remember feeling that Janet’s strength and energy got directly into my soul when I took the stage.

Queen Janet is still queen Janet in my life. I would have seen her for the first time this year, but her Black Diamond tour is one of those that lost to the cancellations due to the coronavirus pandemic. I’m still heartbroken (insert “That’s the Way Love Goes” for this moment in my life’s soundtrack), but I’m hopeful I’ll be able to dance with her someday, even if it’s from a very far away seat.

Photo by Manu Kumar on Unsplash

Songs from Prince like “Nothing Compares to You,” on the other hand, are equally integral to my soundtrack. I would daydream thinking that the love of my life would dedicate lyrics to me like the ones in “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World.” I still love that video and its diverse cast of women because I saw myself in many of them!

His death in 2016 left me with a void (similar to how I felt when David Bowie died earlier that year), but Prince’s memoir, “The Beautiful Ones,” has provided me a special way to connect with that beautiful – and complex – mind.

As I write this brief love letter to two of my greatest inspirations I cannot help wanting to sing and dance my heart away (in a very fashionable way, of course).

From Sylvia

I AM (HEAR), directed by Olympia Perez

Black Trans Media is an organization run by Sasha Alexander and Olympia Perez for the Black trans and gender nonconforming community – one of the few organizations run by, and in service and support of the Black trans and GNC community. Sasha officially founded the organization in 2013 to shift and reframe the worth and value of Black trans people everywhere through media, art, advocacy, and community organizing, but I have known Sasha since 2004, and they were making space and time for racial and gender justice and liberation long before we even met. Thank you for being part of my family and for the adventures through the years and always driving me home because I don’t have a license (I will not give away more dates because Sasha and I have aged very well and we have reputations to uphold).

From Yessica

circa 2005.

I was so fresh, I mean perm fresh (really a relaxer. IF you know, you know).

I entered a lecture hall in a college, not my own, in upstate NY somewhere. I listened to the words of Professor Kaba Hiawatha Kamene, words that would bend my world, and force me to forge a new path. Teaching me that unlearning is only the beginning and probably the hardest to do. Realizing what I had learned in so many classrooms before this one didn’t stick because it wasn’t our truth. You said to never fear and continue to plant seeds for we do not know which ones will sprout. 15 years later, I still remember the conversations we had in that room, and look at how far I’ve come. I am eternally grateful. The warrior in me honors the warrior in you. Onward and forward, with love and light, Professor Kaba Hiawatha Kamene, Meta Netur Scholar.

From Champ

“Christ You Know it Ain’t Easy!!” was the title of the show that introduced me to Deborah Grant’s work in 2014, but it could be a mantra for many of us – any of us – and you know what I mean by that. She contains multitudes, and everything is grist for her mill. “Everything in life is accessible and it needs to be looked at over and over and over again” she says, and “The key is how well you transform those aspects into something that is unique and of your own hand. If you are going to steal, then DO IT WELL!” Her sources and allusions and motifs range everywhere through art and culture and history; she breaks down the labels that are used to segregate one set of experiences from another. I can’t say it better than John Yau: “There is nothing essentialist about Grant’s investigation of identity, but what she does is essential.”

Installation view, Deborah Grant, The Birth of a Genius in a Midnight Sun, 2012. Photo by Tyler Green, Modern Art Notes Podcast.

From Steve

John Coltrane was the last giant of jazz. But he was my first meaningful touchstone. I arrived in college with plans to eventually get a seat in a symphony, pull together a basket of students, maybe a find a steady teaching job. I was well-versed as I could have been in the classics. My jazz experience was limited to the big bands my parents enjoyed from their youth. And that didn’t conflict or expand upon my notion of musicianship as a virtuosic effort. Hit every note, nail the auditions, win the seat. Perfection.

So it was a surprise to me that I quickly began to gravitate toward the jazzers. They spoke a new language around music that elevated expression and feeling and connection. So I jumped in and John Coltrane was the first landing.

He wasn’t a revolutionary, though he recorded with Cecil Taylor. He wasn’t a be-bopper or a hard-bopper, though he came into himself through those musics. He was a devotee and a tenacious seeker. The patriarchs of his family were preachers, and he internalized their cadence and modulation and made that his music.

He was spiritual and humble, so confidence was difficult for him even though he was playing next to Miles and Monk in their respective bands which were at the top of the jazz world. He couldn’t immerse himself in spectacle of stardom because he felt that he had to work on his own thing. Following a performance, Miles and the guys would find the party and come back to their hotel the next day to find Trane asleep with his horn in his mouth.

On Kind of Blue, you can hear him finding higher gears in the sublime modal music of Miles and Bill Evans. On Giant Steps you hear him shift into those gears. He would speed through the last seven years of his life recording what seemed like an album every month. By the release of one he was disappearing over the horizon. In 1964, he disappeared to his home in Dix Hills, New York, and emerged a few weeks later with A Love Supreme, the record that was my introduction to Trane. It is reasonably considered the greatest jazz record ever made. Everything that followed would challenge and divide the critics and fans. His music was entirely a personal and spiritual endeavor.

He barely noticed when the critics complained that he was riding on his previous fame while making “unlistenable” music (a widely-held perspective that I don’t agree with). He barely noticed that he was terminally ill.

He’s called the last giant because the music called jazz became a niche in the cultural landscape; African-American folklore to be studied in music school. His genius was undeniable. But his important late-period work could be hard to digest. For most, it took an act of faith to sit through 40-minute doses of group improvisation. After Trane’s death, Miles went towards Rock (a scandal of its own) and the music seemed to lose most of its casual audience and mainstream exposure.

My exploration of his music was not casual. I grabbed anything I could get and once or twice I took it in from start to finish. It is a remarkable trajectory over a short period of time. And it changed me. I saw the act of artmaking very differently after finding Coltrane.

From Eddie

Fred Wilson is an artist who changed my life through his work. Fred interrogates unspoken assumptions that inform museum display – what we choose to reveal and what we choose to conceal – as his artistic strategy. Using existing objects – oftentimes objects that are not displayed to the public – and placing them in relation to objects that are often displayed, he reveals how institutions conceal histories of racialized treatment of people. In this way, Fred’s exploration of race and racism is through revelatory critique of institutional practices.

In the words of Angelique Power, president of the Field Foundation of Illinois, “People use racial equity as a substitute for diversity… Racial equity is about shifting power and resources. It involves dismantling AND rebuilding systems. This is an important point since for many of us it stops with dismantling; rebuilding involves shifting resources and power, acknowledging history, and in some ways rethinking history that you have been told and, from that lens, building something new.”

My first real exposure to institutional and historical critique – and critiques of systems – was through Fred’s art.

Fred changed my life in another essential way. He was the first director of Longwood Art Gallery, located in the South Bronx. After years of his leadership, he stepped aside for a new era under Betti-Sue Hertz (who hired me as her gallery manager when I was still a college student). Fred continued to periodically visit to see exhibits as well as lend his name and his work to our efforts to raise funds and increase our profile.

Through Fred, I had a model of a person of color from the Bronx who engaged the art world on terms that were his own. I am humbled and grateful to know him. Thank you, Fred.

From Nadia

I knew of Kara Walker’s brilliant and critical work, art reshaping narratives, meanings subtle and bold, long before I saw it in person. The first instance was upon arriving at graduate school. I was met by Walker in a two-story tall mural transcending the open stair. It was a piece that provoked dialogue amongst students in a private, (self-identified) Marxist institution (quite a juxtaposition to navigate already) about race (the besieged topic of non-discussion amongst solely-class-based social analysis). The space Walker’s piece created was unlike the other white-walled boxes where “Art” was made. It was a space pressing us with histories politely avoided and self-reflections sidestepped.

Photo by metacynic, Flickr, Kara Walker’s “A Subtlety,” 2014.

The second time I got to experience Walker’s art was closer to home. Living adjacent to the in/famed Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg (both North and South, there is a difference), I got to visit the former Domino Sugar Factory where “A Subtlety, or the Marvelous Sugar Baby” was installed for a several weeks in the midst of local struggle around gentrification, privatization, fare wages, and the fight for self-determination in Black and Brown communities, among others.

I share these stories of my time with Walker’s art because it feels like no coincidence that the timing corresponded with my learnings about systems change. The physical embodiment of that work was so apparent in Walker’s forms. The inescapability was palpable. The lessons still ongoing.

Posted by admin on June 18, 2020 at 03:04PM. Read the full post.

[jimmyclip]

slacking ➝ self para series  (pt.1)

WHO: jimmy smythe, anna & dalton smythe. (mentions: @silassmythe, npc - olly smythe, @hxnterclarington, @sawyerpearce​ (very brief lol), npc - ms adams)

WHEN: 1994-2003

WHERE: jimmy’s head; cotton plant elementary and high school, smythe family home

SUMMARY: a reflection of jimmy’s depression throughout their life (first instalment). not As angsty as the triggers list makes it sound i ?hope.

TRIGGERS: depression (persistent, possibly misdiagnosed), self worth issues & contingency (grades; being a positive person), implied dysphoria, misgendering (pre-coming out), panic attacks, vomit. 

WORDCOUNT: 3k+

As long as Jimmy could remember, there’d been something different about them. At six-years-old, they could stand, smiling in a room full of kids and still feel alone. There were days, even back then, they remembered not wanting to get out of bed. Their mom would make jokes about them not being a morning person, and they wouldn’t know how to tell her that it wasn’t just mornings that made them feel like this.  That it wasn’t just a disgruntlement at getting out of bed, and some days, it didn’t go away when they got back into bed at night. 

Of course, they didn’t always feel like that. Sometimes they would get days or weeks or months that were easy; that were light. They would mean it when they smiled, and their negative thoughts wouldn’t get in the way of them speaking up in class, or starting conversations. When Jimmy got to feel themself, they were the happiest kid you could meet. Even then, though, it felt like they had to be careful about letting people too close. After all, it was never a question of if they would feel hollow again, only a question of when. They’d thought at seven, and eight, and nine: if anyone ever found out how sad I am, no one could stand to be around me. 

When they’d first started school, their solution to this was pretty simple. They always smiled the brightest, and though they were shy, they tried their best to make conversation. They revolved around groups of people pretty naturally, but never hung around long enough to actually cement themself as a part of one. The most time they spent with anybody was Silas’ friends. They’d ramble, and offer the appropriate cheery smiles when they were up for it. When they weren’t, they’d find something else to do. Silas was their brother, and there was a certain degree of safety that came with that. They trusted him enough to open up sometimes at school. 

They didn’t much like the thought of overstaying their welcome. While other kids weren’t generally unhappy to see them, sometimes Jimmy just couldn’t stomach how inconvenient they felt. So, somedays, they would say they had something they wanted to find out about, and venture off into the library to busy themself with a book. 

At first, it was just so people wouldn’t ask them why they weren’t playing with their friends. However, the more stuff they learned about, the more stuff they found that they wanted to learn about. There was the gruesome viking history book that no 7-year-old should be allowed to read, and censored sex education textbooks they’d found by mistake (which led to several uncomfortable family dinners), and later there was animal science (in case a dog was ever in trouble). 

Learning was a good fix. They were finally excited about something like other kids seemed to be. Even on the days when they didn’t have it in them to read, they knew they could go to the library and pretend like they were just too engrossed in a book to talk to anyone. It was a security blanket. A security blanket that made getting up and going to school a little less daunting. Jimmy wasn’t as stressed when they didn’t have to talk to people so much.  Books took the pressure off them to make friends. Friends, which they knew, they would have to keep parts of themself from.

Reading quickly replaced spending time with other kids. Eventually, being in the library at lunch became a more common habit than not. They sometimes hanged around groups of kids. After all, they were eight and they were charming -- in their own way. Despite how it felt, they didn’t really have to try that hard when they wanted to entertain people. However, they spent less time in groups or on playgrounds than was probably normal for a kid their age. It was lonely, but they didn’t mind it. Having the library made them love school. And having free roam of the far edge of the oval to pull off their own ‘experiments’ didn’t stop them being friendly in class, or from being enthusiastic when they did make it to the playground, so nobody seemed to mind.

Jimmy didn’t really make a friend of their own until they were eight. A lot of the other kids were scared of Hunter. He was volatile and easily irritated, and he acted out when he was upset. But, just like Jimmy knew that always acting happy didn’t mean you were always happy, they knew that Hunter always acting mad, didn’t mean he always was. One day they’d approached him, because he was sitting by himself, and they were nothing if not curious. Of course, they didn’t actually ask what had happened (that much was obvious). They did, however, stick around to find out more. For once, a kid in their class actually seemed interesting enough to be worth all the effort it took to be around.

Gradually, things seemed to slide into place. A lot of people didn’t really get it, because the two of them, frankly, couldn’t have been more different. But, for the first time in their life Jimmy had something that was just theirs. They thought, maybe now that they’d found a friend of their own in Hunter -- things would get better. And they did, for a while. When they weren’t, however, Hunter still stuck around.

The thing is, when you start fake-smiling before you can read, you tend to get very good at it. After all, no one expects Jimmy, of all kids, to be clinically depressed. Jimmy knew exactly the right things to say, and exactly the right places to go, so no one would have to know about this thing they carried around. Hell, they didn’t even let themself linger on it. When you have a mental illness, though, ignoring the problem only works for so long. And when the school year that Jimmy turned fifteen in started... ignoring the problem stopped working.

It started when their History teacher, Ms Adams, called in a parent/teacher interview.

Jimmy was typically a little disorganised, but lately, even the simplest tasks had felt impossible and overwhelming. Anyone that knew them could have told you how big of a nerd they were. The last few months, however, reading up about things they were interested in was stressing them out. Managing to do anything more seemed insurmountable. Most nights, they’d come home and end up staring at their homework so long it distorted their vision.

Eventually, they’d lie to their parents about having done it. Then, go do something stupid and reckless in the backyard with Olly to keep themself occupied until Silas came home. Sometimes, they’d rush to finish things poorly the next day before class, but most of the time they didn’t even bother. It was catching up to them. 

Ms Adams was their favourite teacher, and because of this, Jimmy put the most pressure on themself to do well in her class. Naturally, hers was the one they were failing miserably at. Before Jimmy had Hunter, Ms Adams would sometimes eat her lunch in the library, pretending she had work to catch up on. She taught high schoolers, so Jimmy hadn’t known who she was at the time, but she’d never told them they should be outside playing. Every now and then, she’d trade them their animal crackers for a contraband peanut-butter sandwich. In their books, that made her cool. 

She seemed to understand that Jimmy was a very private person, even as a seven-year-old. She never tried to make friends with them, but that didn’t stop her from keeping them company from time to time, or asking what they were reading about. They liked that about her, that she didn’t mind conversation for the sake of the subject matter. That it didn’t have to have an underlying concern or subtext. Back then, them being alone wasn’t because they couldn’t make friends, it was just because they were too overwhelmed to handle having any. In spite of that, she gave them the opportunity to talk to someone in depth without the pressure of an actual relationship.

Ms Adams had been suspicious of them for a while, they knew. Jimmy had loved the content they were covering in history this semester. Their work was still suffering though.

So, when she’d called them back after class one day to ask why, they hadn’t been all that surprised. They remembered how she’d touched their shoulder, which seemed a little out of character for her. They felt like she was looking right through them. “Jimmy, you’re a smart kid. I know you can do this work.”

Being them, they had just shrugged her off, fake smiling and scrunching their eyebrows in a false confusion. It was clear they weren’t planning on talking about anything personal with her anytime soon. 

Realising this, Ms Adams seemed to pull back. There was still a subtle hint of the concern she’d shown so openly before hidden in her expression, but otherwise she seemed unfazed. They thought that they’d got her off their back for a while. When she’d called their parents in less than a week later, well, they probably should’ve seen it coming.

Jimmy had been listening through the door as Ms Adams detailed the dip in their grades this year. “James is a very intelligent young man. He just needs to learn how to apply himself to his work.” They absent-mindedly fiddled with their gameboy, trying to distract themself from the tightness creeping up in their chest. “I’m a little worried about his attitude in class. Lately, it hasn’t seemed like he’s even trying.” 

Logically, they knew it would only be so long before something like this happened. They’d been doing a pretty good job at hiding things but they knew Silas knew something, and they knew not handing in their homework so many times was bound to get them in trouble. Hell, the last few weeks even Sawyer seemed to be getting frustrated with how distant they were. Right now, though, everything was happening too quickly. They were just barely managing to keep their breath steady with the thought of it.

So, they did what came naturally to them: They ran. Or, more accurately, they walked. They didn’t have anywhere to go. They didn’t even really have a conscious thought propelling them, but they got up and they left. They walked for nearly fifteen minutes before their body finally won over. By that point, they were practically seizing with how hard they were shaking. They were next to a line of trees behind the town cemetery, though they could’ve just-as-easily been on a main street with how little attention they were paying.  They put their palm flat against a tree trunk to steady themself, and they bent over. They heaved, and heaved. They threw up until there was nothing left in them. Their cheeks were wet with tears, but all they could focus on was the bile burning in their throat and nose, and the fact that they were choking on it. 

Jimmy had never had a panic attack before. They thought they were dying. They couldn’t breathe. Their chest was too tight. The air kept getting caught in their throat. They stood like that:  hyperventilating, dry-heaving, sobbing, leaning against a tree for nearly fifteen minutes before their breath calmed. Though, they were still scared shitless -- even more so because they had no clue what was happening.

Their chest hurt so badly, they wanted to crumble in on themself.  So much of them felt like they should just stay there forever, just give up and let this thing have them. A bigger part of them, however, knew getting this upset about something this small made no sense. Knew they had no way of explaining what was really going on. Knew, that if someone found them like this there’d be even more questions than if they faced the music. So, they spent some time talking themself down, and they walked home.

When they opened the front door, their mom was there waiting. She’d been pacing back and forth, and she looked worried as hell. Her entire body sagged with relief the minute she laid eyes on them. They immediately felt guilty. 

“Jimmy where the hell have you been?” She yelled, though the quiver in her voice gave away how worried she was. “Your father’s been driving around looking for you for half an hour.” 

Jimmy had swallowed thickly, looking down at their shoes. The tips of their sneakers were stained with vomit. They didn’t have the energy to explain any of this. They were just so tired. “I’m sorry, mom. I’ll go to my room” 

Their mom had softened, registering how upset they were. "No, you wont,” She’d said gently, “Go sit at the dinner table. We’ll talk about this when your dad comes home.” 

She reached across and squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder, making them squirm uncomfortably. They dragged their shoe against the mat in the doorway, and mumbled a quick “Okay”, before heading into the kitchen. They were fifteen; they didn’t want to be confronted about this. They didn’t want it to be coaxed out of them by their teachers. They didn’t want to tell anyone, least of all their mom and dad. 

Jim rubbed their neck anxiously, trying not to seem too upset. They knew they weren’t as talented-a-kid as their siblings. Knew they couldn’t match up with school stuff to Silas, or with imagination to Olly-- but they were happy, they were friendly, and they were easy. They were worried now that their parents could see it was all a lie, they might not ever look at them the same.

When their dad finally came home it was almost half-an-hour later, and with a fairly sweaty-looking Silas in tow. Though, Jimmy didn’t see him. Only heard their mom talking to him in a hushed voice, before both their parents came into the kitchen.

They traded loaded looks before Dalton pulled up the chair in front of Jimmy, tugging at the knot of his tie to loosen it. He looked a little uncomfortable, like he didn’t really know where to begin.  “James-” The name felt like a punishment. Jimmy bit their cheek at it, closing in on themself even more. Dalton looked toward Anna, at loss of what to do.

“Jimmy,” Their mom said, pulling up the chair next to Jimmy’s and sitting down. \ “Do you know why Ms. Adams called us into class today?”

“No.” Jimmy didn’t bother looking up. Instead, they fidgeted with their hands against the table-top.

“Jim-”

“Do we have to talk about this?” They asked uncomfortably, avoiding their mother’s eye line. Their words were strained and petulant.

“Yes,” Their father said sternly, an expectant look in his eye which meant Jimmy wouldn’t be leaving the table any time soon.

Jimmy rolled their lips uncomfortably, slumping a little in their chair. They didn’t want to look up again and see how disappointed their parents were. They didn’t want to talk about this. They didn’t want to talk about anything. Why couldn’t their parents understand that?

“We think...” Their mother started, sighing deeply to herself, “Your teacher told us she thinks that you might be depressed,”

“What?” Jimmy’s head snapped up defensively. 

“Jim-” She began.

“I’m not.” They interrupted, their mouth open in an uncomfortable, disbelieving expression. They looked between their parents, as if trying to gauge how either of them could believe this. They’d expected to be yelled at for slacking off not this. They weren’t depressed, they liked their life they just... they were having some trouble concentrating at the moment. It’d always been like this, and it had always lifted until now.

Their father clenched his jaw, folding his arms against his chest. 

“I’m not!” Jimmy yelled again, a little more desperate this time around.

“Jimmy” Their father warned. 

They felt that tightness pulling at their chest again. They had been so careful. They didn’t even let themself be sad around themself most of the time. They didn’t understand how this was happening. 

Quietly, with a forced nonchalance, they spoke: “I don’t know why she would tell you that, okay?” They finally chanced a glance toward their mother, who looked like she was holding back tears. Their gut churned guiltily. They were so desperate for their parents to just believe them, to not think of them as this sad little boy. “It’s not true. Ask Hunter, Ask Silas.” They looked toward their father then, who’s resolve had broken in slightly. His brow was tensed, but it was enough for them to read. Neither of their parents bought it, and that knowledge was crushing. “I’m sorry. I’ve been slacking off but I’ll stop.” Their voice broke, tears thick in their throat. They felt so sick.

Their mom reached across the table, trying to comfort them by clasping their hands with hers, but Jimmy pulled back. They balled their hands up into fists and tucked them under their armpits, making themself small. 

A silence lingered for just a touch too long, their parents seemingly waiting for them to break. They considered making a move to leave, but before they could find it in them to try, their mother started speaking softly: “Jimmy, I think that we might need to take you to see a psychiatrist.”

“I’m not crazy, mom.” 

Except, well... They were, weren’t they? They’d practically been a hermit their whole life, and they had just spent fifteen minutes dry heaving because they were scared of admitting it.

“Oh, James, we know.” They could hear how hard their mom was trying to make this all okay. They hated it. It made them wanna tear their ears off.

“I don’t-” They started, sighing frustratedly.  “I'm tired. Can I just go upstairs now? Please?”

Reluctantly, their mom nodded, seemingly giving up getting through to them right then. They were gone before anybody could say much else.

[desk216]

Awakening, Part 4

"It will depend on Duty, you know.

If the Captain lacks the courage to perform his duty, they won't even escape the mindslavers"

-Spoken by B001, three hours before she ceased.

-Recorded at 1732, 75 years prior.

Skye turned as Rosalind stepped to the floor. "Isn't it amazing?" she asked. "No one's ever traveled to another planet, let along another solar system."

"Someone had to have." Rosalind pointed out, gesturing to the walls around them. "How else would all this get here?"

"Maybe it was put here by magic!" Jane suggested.

"Magic doesn't exist." Skye said.

"Magic doesn't exist?" Rosalind asked incredulously. "We just teleported with a book."

"Just unexplained science." Skye said, crossing her arms. "Back in the Dark Ages, you'd be burned for witchcraft by turning on a flashlight. This is no different."

Hound barked, then sprinted down the corridor. "Wait for me!" Batty called, following him.

"Batty!" Rosalind called. "Don't run ahead…" Batty had already vanished around a corner. Rosalind sprinted after her.

Skye sighed, then she and Jane followed. As they turned the corner, Skye drew up, nearly colliding with Rosalind. Her sister was standing in a doorway, looking at the far wall in astonishment. "You know what you said before?" Rosalind asked. "How everything has some sort of scientific explanation?"

"What?" Skye demanded, trying to look over Rosalind's shoulder. "What's so… oh."

The far wall was covered in a mural depicting four girls of various ages. Three of the girls had curly brown hair, and the other's hair was long and blonde. A large shaggy dog sat by the shortest figure, who was busy petting him.

"Woof" Hound said, as Batty stroked his fur.

"This is going to be hard to explain." Rosalind said.

Skye pushed past Rosalind and approached the painting. "It could be a coincidence..." she said doubtfully. "But I'll admit, that seems pretty unlikely."

"Maybe the book explains" Jane suggested.

"Book?" Rosalind asked, confused.

"Down there!" Jane said, pointing. "Below the painting!"

Sure enough, a small book was lying on a small shelf, next to a strange red handle. The book's binding was black, and both the cover and spine were unmarked.

"Maybe that's another teleport book?" Skye suggested

Rosalind picked up the book and opened the front cover. Unlike the previous two books, there was no moving image on the first page. "Not a teleporter." she remarked, then looked closer. Instead, lines of careful script covered the page, with dates above each paragraph. "It looks like someone's diary."

"What does it say?" Batty asked eagerly.

"Yeah, read it out loud!" Skye said.

Rosalind sat down, her back to the painting. Her sisters settled themselves in a semicircle around her, with Hound curled between Batty and Jane. Rosalind took a deep breath, then began to read.

- Arrived in Juncture today. Sealed the linking chamber to D'ni, hopefully that will hold the Sickness back. Merciful Grower, how many died today? How could anyone imagine this, even a madman? We have six months of supplies, which should allow us to wait for rescue, if there's any rescue to come. If not… well, we've got linking books to five mostly unexplored Ages, one of them may be untouched by the plague.

-During the evacuation from the Sickness, Ania collapsed, apparently caught up in a premonition. Our family always has had a knack for the Sight, but we've never heard of it appearing in someone so young. She hasn't said much about what she saw, but in this troubled time, perhaps it will help us to halt this devastation

- Ania gathered us today, and explained her vision in detail. There is no possible way for us to cure the Sickness, but we may yet be able to preserve our civilization from total collapse. I don't know what's so important about my invention, but Ania has assured us that it will be critical in ensuring the survival of the D'ni. Construction has begun on this new project, which we have christened the "Horizon".

- In spite of our best efforts, it's apparent that the Sickness has followed us. We've got limited medical supplies, but they won't be able to do anything more than slow its progression. Instead of six months, we'll be lucky to survive a couple of weeks. Father's put us on double shifts in the meantime, trying to outrace it.

- Ania has fallen ill. We're giving her the best treatment we can provide at this time, but what good is that, without a cure for the disease? We've put everything we have into her prophesy, and I don't know how we'll continue without the prophet.

- Work is going smoothly. I finished assembling the Link drive this afternoon, and the weapon systems are being installed as I write. I don't know why the Horizon would need weapons, considering the circumstances of interage travel, but Ania has insisted that they are necessary. Ania herself spent the day painting a mural on the linking chamber walls. I asked her it's supposed to help save the D'ni, but she just pointed at her painting and said the blonde girl thinks she's crazy.

- Ania has taken a turn for the worse. She tossed and turned all night, muttering nonsense and talking to imaginary people. Father told me to record what I could understand, in case they were prophetic.

"Woven Magic"

"The Sun, the Moon, the Bow, and the Dragon"

"Stranger's Blood."

Rosalind paused, then looked up. "It goes on for another three pages with this sort of stuff. Do you want me to read it all, or should I skip ahead?"

"Skip ahead." Batty said

"Please" Skye agreed.

- Ania died this morning. Jane let out a small gasp of horror, and Batty buried her face into Hound's side. Before she died, Ania spoke to me in private. She knew that we wouldn't live to make the journey. The survival of our people will depend on others, strangers who will someday find this world, and complete the journey we prepared for. I thought that I was keeping this journal for myself, but it appears that the burden of our people will rest on my poor retelling. We are few in number, and those who still survive will soon be dead from the sickness. We have placed the station into hibernation to await these travelers.

To whoever is reading this, you must reawaken this world from its slumber. The future of both our people and yours depend on it.

Rosalind stopped reading and closed the book. "That's the last entry. All the pages afterwards are blank."

A tear rolled down Jane's face. "None of them made it."

"They'd probably be dead by now anyway" Skye remarked. "That statue hadn't been opened in decades."

Rosalind turned back towards the painting. "It's crude, but that sure looks like us." she mused, trailing her fingers over the canvas.

Skye pushed past her to examine the handle. "So this is how you activate the station?" she asked, tapping it. "It looks like you need to twist it, then push down."

"Don't touch it!" Rosalind yelped, yanking her sister's arm away from the panel.

"Calm down." Skye said. "I wasn't going to actually do it, yet."

"I think we should leave and get Daddy." Rosalind said. "we've our luck far enough."

"We can't!" Jane cried. "The journal made it clear, it's our destiny to turn it on!"

"Seriously?" Skye asked. "We don't have to do something just because an old book told us to."

"Yes we do!" Batty said. "She knew about Hound!"

"Order!" Rosalind shouted, pounding her fist against the wall, and cutting off the developing argument. "We'll vote on it."

"Sounds fair to me." Skye said. "Who goes first?"

"Batty?" Rosalind asked. "What do you think we should do?"

"We need to do it!" Batty said. "Ania said so!"

"Okay, one vote in favor." Rosalind said. "Jane?"

"We were summoned to this world for a purpose!" Jane said. "It is our duty, nay, our destiny to turn that switch!"

"Skye?"

Skye stayed silent for a long moment, considering. "I guess not." she finally said. "I'm curious, but we can't be sure if it's still safe."

"So, what do you vote?" Jane asked Rosalind.

"No." Rosalind replied. "we're out of our depth here. We need to get an adult's opinion before we do anything."

"two-two." Skye said. "Now what?"

"Hound hasn't voted yet!" Batty said.

"Let me guess" Rosalind said. "Hound supports your opinion wholeheartedly?"

"Woof." Hound agreed.

"Does anyone have a quarter?" Jane suggested. "We could flip for it."

"Nope." Skye said, turning out her pockets.

"I've got one." Rosalind said. "Heads, we go, Tails, we leave. Alright?"

"Deal." Jane said, and Rosalind flung the coin into the air. It flashed as it spun, bounced against the tile, then rolled down a nearby grate. The sisters groaned.

Skye crouched down and peered through the slats. "I can't see it."

"That was my last coin" Rosalind said, fishing around in her pocket.

"So what?" Jane asked. "Rock Paper Scissors?"

"We could let Hound decide." Batty suggested.

"We don't have any biscuits." Rosalind said.

"We could go get some" Batty said.

Skye sighed. "Forget it, I'll just change my vote."

"But…" Rosalind began.

"Hound never chooses me anyway." Skye said. "Besides, I'm tired of sitting around talking with a mystery like this sitting right next to us." She walked forward, and grabbed the handle. "Stand back."

"Absolutely not." Rosalind said. "If anyone's going to risk this, it's going to be me."

"Too late." Skye said. She twisted the handle ninety degrees, then shoved it forward.

[cleancutpage]

Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler

In our latest real estate tech entrepreneur interview, we’re speaking with David Michonski from Quigler. They are a member of NAR REach’s 2018 class.

Without further ado…

What do you do?

I am the chief cook and dishwasher around here supported by a team of about 12 coders, marketing wizards, web designers, lawyers and all the other needs of a start up company.

What problem does your product/service solve?

Many. First, more than 60% of consumers who are experienced in doing a real estate transaction still say they do not understand the process. We are solving that by inaugurating the second great revolution in the brokerage transaction: total transparency and empowerment of consumers to know everything their agent is supposed to know (and do) in advance. 25 years ago the industry took a deep breath and provided transparency into listing inventory by putting it all on line. But we never gave the consumer process transparency. Quigler does.

Second, every manager of a real estate office knows the biggest and most dreaded complaint of a manager is the call from a consumer that says: “I’ve had my property listed with you for six weeks and I never hear from my agent. Does he still work for you?” Communication, especially in bad markets, is the biggest consumer complaint. Quigler fixes that by providing consumers immediate notifications every time an agent does what they are required by law and code to do. It creates a running record, time stamped and dated so consumers know when their agent did it.

Third, the bar is low in real estate. NAR had to issue the Danger Report that warned of masses of untrained, unskilled, unethical agents flooding the market and lowering the reputation of agents. Quigler solves that for everyone, even a new agent. We have taken the training classroom and installed in the palm of an agent’s hand on their cell phone and taken the required Actions they must do (there is nothing optional in Quigler) and organized them into a series of sequential Steps with specific Actions under each Step. For the first time an experienced agent and a new agent have everything required to be compliant in one place right in the palm of their hand, easily and sequentially organized so that now compliance with what is required can easily become the baseline of performance for an real estate agent. Great agents can build on top of what they are required to do with their experience, testimonials, skills, personality, etc, but at least consumers now know they are getting a baseline of compliance with what MUST be done.

Finally, as part of communication, 70% of the agents who just completed a Survey for us told us that they would pay more to get an automated, pre-populated update letter to send to clients. Given that less than 1% of agents do that now, we have a tremendous service to provide to agents that simultaneously allows them to give consumers better service. That upgrade is coming and in the works right now and will be in Quigler in 6 months. So we are raising the bar by providing a tool for agents to give consumers total transparency into everything the agent is required to do, welcome compliance with the law and code, unheard of instant communication that creates a running record, and unprecedented accountability to consumers during the largest financial transactions of most of their lives that is also one of the most expensive.

What are you most excited about right now?

Well, we have launched and that is pretty exciting after 3 long years of hard daily work. Every day I love reading the emails agents and consumers send me. Consumers love Quigler, but they write to complain that we don’t have any agents yet in their market. So we have offered agents an Early Adopter Founding Agent membership at a big discount so as to populate agents that consumers can find. That is our big challenge right now. Then we look forward to a PR campaign to drive consumers to the site and find agents who want to provide transparency, accountability, communication and compliance. That is our goal right now. Get agents on board and then drive consumers to them in the app.

What’s next for you?

Again, what comes next is what we think is the easy part of Quigler and that is the consumer PR campaign. Already major papers have interviewed me and want to run a story and since real estate is very local, we expect that a large number of local papers and online news services will want to run this great consumer story that goes something like this: “It’s noon. Do you know what you agent is doing for you today?” At a gut level consumers want to know more and want accountability, compliance and communication. It will be fun to see those articles start popping up. We have yet to find a consumer who doesn’t want an agent who can provide these benefits.

What’s a cause you’re passionate about and why?

LOL, way too many. First, my wife, Linda, and I have served for 15 years in various capacities at our church in Greenwich. Linda’s been on the vestry while I have been the Head Usher, on the property committee, the worship commission, the ambassador program, the church choir, etc. So that is a kind of center for our lives.

Second, I am passionate about someday creating the Fresh Start Foundation for people who have had to declare bankruptcy. The idea is to give them a fresh start on life after that ordeal. You see, for 13 years I built one of the fastest growing brokerages in the world that culminated in us reaching $1B in sales in August of 2008. Four weeks later Lehman Brokers hit us like a tsunami out of nowhere in New York City. It was devastating. People walked from deals and our pipeline was cut in half. Business dropped 75% and everyone thought the world was going to end. By May of 2009 we could not hold on any longer and we sold the company to NRT, but I was left with having guaranteed the loans and the leases. It forced me into personal bankruptcy and devastated me and my family.

Both Linda and I promised each other that we would come back and someday create a foundation to help those who through no fault of their own have had to go through that nightmare (70% of them suffered a bankruptcy because of an illness that wiped out their savings). We want to help them emotionally through that and then help them financially with re-establishing credit and then we even want to help finance entrepreneurs in new businesses. That is our goal.

Third, I want to finish my Ph.d. Many years ago I worked on my Ph.d in political philosophy. I graduated my doctoral exams with highest distinction, the first person every to do so in the program and worked on my dissertation, but the Ph.d glut of the late 70’s made it tough to find a job teaching college. So my dissertation sits in our freezer and I want to finish it and hand it in. I called the head of my dissertation committee who is still alive and asked if I could submit it. He paused and said: “Well, David, that was 40 years ago.” “Yes, sir,” I said. “That would give new meaning to handing in a late paper, wouldn’t it?” “Yes, sir.” I said. He said: “Well, hand it in and let’s see what we can do.” It may take me 10 years to do that, but I will.

Thanks to David for sharing his story. If you’d like to connect, find him on LinkedIn here.

We’re constantly looking for great real estate tech entrepreneurs to feature. If that’s you, please read this post — then drop me a line (drew @ geekestatelabs dot com).

The post Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler appeared first on GeekEstate Blog.

Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler published first on https://greatlivinghomespage.tumblr.com/

[brettseaton]

Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler

In our latest real estate tech entrepreneur interview, we’re speaking with David Michonski from Quigler. They are a member of NAR REach’s 2018 class.

Without further ado…

What do you do?

I am the chief cook and dishwasher around here supported by a team of about 12 coders, marketing wizards, web designers, lawyers and all the other needs of a start up company.

What problem does your product/service solve?

Many. First, more than 60% of consumers who are experienced in doing a real estate transaction still say they do not understand the process. We are solving that by inaugurating the second great revolution in the brokerage transaction: total transparency and empowerment of consumers to know everything their agent is supposed to know (and do) in advance. 25 years ago the industry took a deep breath and provided transparency into listing inventory by putting it all on line. But we never gave the consumer process transparency. Quigler does.

Second, every manager of a real estate office knows the biggest and most dreaded complaint of a manager is the call from a consumer that says: “I’ve had my property listed with you for six weeks and I never hear from my agent. Does he still work for you?” Communication, especially in bad markets, is the biggest consumer complaint. Quigler fixes that by providing consumers immediate notifications every time an agent does what they are required by law and code to do. It creates a running record, time stamped and dated so consumers know when their agent did it.

Third, the bar is low in real estate. NAR had to issue the Danger Report that warned of masses of untrained, unskilled, unethical agents flooding the market and lowering the reputation of agents. Quigler solves that for everyone, even a new agent. We have taken the training classroom and installed in the palm of an agent’s hand on their cell phone and taken the required Actions they must do (there is nothing optional in Quigler) and organized them into a series of sequential Steps with specific Actions under each Step. For the first time an experienced agent and a new agent have everything required to be compliant in one place right in the palm of their hand, easily and sequentially organized so that now compliance with what is required can easily become the baseline of performance for an real estate agent. Great agents can build on top of what they are required to do with their experience, testimonials, skills, personality, etc, but at least consumers now know they are getting a baseline of compliance with what MUST be done.

Finally, as part of communication, 70% of the agents who just completed a Survey for us told us that they would pay more to get an automated, pre-populated update letter to send to clients. Given that less than 1% of agents do that now, we have a tremendous service to provide to agents that simultaneously allows them to give consumers better service. That upgrade is coming and in the works right now and will be in Quigler in 6 months. So we are raising the bar by providing a tool for agents to give consumers total transparency into everything the agent is required to do, welcome compliance with the law and code, unheard of instant communication that creates a running record, and unprecedented accountability to consumers during the largest financial transactions of most of their lives that is also one of the most expensive.

What are you most excited about right now?

Well, we have launched and that is pretty exciting after 3 long years of hard daily work. Every day I love reading the emails agents and consumers send me. Consumers love Quigler, but they write to complain that we don’t have any agents yet in their market. So we have offered agents an Early Adopter Founding Agent membership at a big discount so as to populate agents that consumers can find. That is our big challenge right now. Then we look forward to a PR campaign to drive consumers to the site and find agents who want to provide transparency, accountability, communication and compliance. That is our goal right now. Get agents on board and then drive consumers to them in the app.

What’s next for you?

Again, what comes next is what we think is the easy part of Quigler and that is the consumer PR campaign. Already major papers have interviewed me and want to run a story and since real estate is very local, we expect that a large number of local papers and online news services will want to run this great consumer story that goes something like this: “It’s noon. Do you know what you agent is doing for you today?” At a gut level consumers want to know more and want accountability, compliance and communication. It will be fun to see those articles start popping up. We have yet to find a consumer who doesn’t want an agent who can provide these benefits.

What’s a cause you’re passionate about and why?

LOL, way too many. First, my wife, Linda, and I have served for 15 years in various capacities at our church in Greenwich. Linda’s been on the vestry while I have been the Head Usher, on the property committee, the worship commission, the ambassador program, the church choir, etc. So that is a kind of center for our lives.

Second, I am passionate about someday creating the Fresh Start Foundation for people who have had to declare bankruptcy. The idea is to give them a fresh start on life after that ordeal. You see, for 13 years I built one of the fastest growing brokerages in the world that culminated in us reaching $1B in sales in August of 2008. Four weeks later Lehman Brokers hit us like a tsunami out of nowhere in New York City. It was devastating. People walked from deals and our pipeline was cut in half. Business dropped 75% and everyone thought the world was going to end. By May of 2009 we could not hold on any longer and we sold the company to NRT, but I was left with having guaranteed the loans and the leases. It forced me into personal bankruptcy and devastated me and my family.

Both Linda and I promised each other that we would come back and someday create a foundation to help those who through no fault of their own have had to go through that nightmare (70% of them suffered a bankruptcy because of an illness that wiped out their savings). We want to help them emotionally through that and then help them financially with re-establishing credit and then we even want to help finance entrepreneurs in new businesses. That is our goal.

Third, I want to finish my Ph.d. Many years ago I worked on my Ph.d in political philosophy. I graduated my doctoral exams with highest distinction, the first person every to do so in the program and worked on my dissertation, but the Ph.d glut of the late 70’s made it tough to find a job teaching college. So my dissertation sits in our freezer and I want to finish it and hand it in. I called the head of my dissertation committee who is still alive and asked if I could submit it. He paused and said: “Well, David, that was 40 years ago.” “Yes, sir,” I said. “That would give new meaning to handing in a late paper, wouldn’t it?” “Yes, sir.” I said. He said: “Well, hand it in and let’s see what we can do.” It may take me 10 years to do that, but I will.

Thanks to David for sharing his story. If you’d like to connect, find him on LinkedIn here.

We’re constantly looking for great real estate tech entrepreneurs to feature. If that’s you, please read this post — then drop me a line (drew @ geekestatelabs dot com).

The post Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler appeared first on GeekEstate Blog.

Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler syndicated from https://oicrealestate.wordpress.com/

[theokbrowne]

Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler

In our latest real estate tech entrepreneur interview, we’re speaking with David Michonski from Quigler. They are a member of NAR REach’s 2018 class.

Without further ado…

What do you do?

I am the chief cook and dishwasher around here supported by a team of about 12 coders, marketing wizards, web designers, lawyers and all the other needs of a start up company.

What problem does your product/service solve?

Many. First, more than 60% of consumers who are experienced in doing a real estate transaction still say they do not understand the process. We are solving that by inaugurating the second great revolution in the brokerage transaction: total transparency and empowerment of consumers to know everything their agent is supposed to know (and do) in advance. 25 years ago the industry took a deep breath and provided transparency into listing inventory by putting it all on line. But we never gave the consumer process transparency. Quigler does.

Second, every manager of a real estate office knows the biggest and most dreaded complaint of a manager is the call from a consumer that says: “I’ve had my property listed with you for six weeks and I never hear from my agent. Does he still work for you?” Communication, especially in bad markets, is the biggest consumer complaint. Quigler fixes that by providing consumers immediate notifications every time an agent does what they are required by law and code to do. It creates a running record, time stamped and dated so consumers know when their agent did it.

Third, the bar is low in real estate. NAR had to issue the Danger Report that warned of masses of untrained, unskilled, unethical agents flooding the market and lowering the reputation of agents. Quigler solves that for everyone, even a new agent. We have taken the training classroom and installed in the palm of an agent’s hand on their cell phone and taken the required Actions they must do (there is nothing optional in Quigler) and organized them into a series of sequential Steps with specific Actions under each Step. For the first time an experienced agent and a new agent have everything required to be compliant in one place right in the palm of their hand, easily and sequentially organized so that now compliance with what is required can easily become the baseline of performance for an real estate agent. Great agents can build on top of what they are required to do with their experience, testimonials, skills, personality, etc, but at least consumers now know they are getting a baseline of compliance with what MUST be done.

Finally, as part of communication, 70% of the agents who just completed a Survey for us told us that they would pay more to get an automated, pre-populated update letter to send to clients. Given that less than 1% of agents do that now, we have a tremendous service to provide to agents that simultaneously allows them to give consumers better service. That upgrade is coming and in the works right now and will be in Quigler in 6 months. So we are raising the bar by providing a tool for agents to give consumers total transparency into everything the agent is required to do, welcome compliance with the law and code, unheard of instant communication that creates a running record, and unprecedented accountability to consumers during the largest financial transactions of most of their lives that is also one of the most expensive.

What are you most excited about right now?

Well, we have launched and that is pretty exciting after 3 long years of hard daily work. Every day I love reading the emails agents and consumers send me. Consumers love Quigler, but they write to complain that we don’t have any agents yet in their market. So we have offered agents an Early Adopter Founding Agent membership at a big discount so as to populate agents that consumers can find. That is our big challenge right now. Then we look forward to a PR campaign to drive consumers to the site and find agents who want to provide transparency, accountability, communication and compliance. That is our goal right now. Get agents on board and then drive consumers to them in the app.

What’s next for you?

Again, what comes next is what we think is the easy part of Quigler and that is the consumer PR campaign. Already major papers have interviewed me and want to run a story and since real estate is very local, we expect that a large number of local papers and online news services will want to run this great consumer story that goes something like this: “It’s noon. Do you know what you agent is doing for you today?” At a gut level consumers want to know more and want accountability, compliance and communication. It will be fun to see those articles start popping up. We have yet to find a consumer who doesn’t want an agent who can provide these benefits.

What’s a cause you’re passionate about and why?

LOL, way too many. First, my wife, Linda, and I have served for 15 years in various capacities at our church in Greenwich. Linda’s been on the vestry while I have been the Head Usher, on the property committee, the worship commission, the ambassador program, the church choir, etc. So that is a kind of center for our lives.

Second, I am passionate about someday creating the Fresh Start Foundation for people who have had to declare bankruptcy. The idea is to give them a fresh start on life after that ordeal. You see, for 13 years I built one of the fastest growing brokerages in the world that culminated in us reaching $1B in sales in August of 2008. Four weeks later Lehman Brokers hit us like a tsunami out of nowhere in New York City. It was devastating. People walked from deals and our pipeline was cut in half. Business dropped 75% and everyone thought the world was going to end. By May of 2009 we could not hold on any longer and we sold the company to NRT, but I was left with having guaranteed the loans and the leases. It forced me into personal bankruptcy and devastated me and my family.

Both Linda and I promised each other that we would come back and someday create a foundation to help those who through no fault of their own have had to go through that nightmare (70% of them suffered a bankruptcy because of an illness that wiped out their savings). We want to help them emotionally through that and then help them financially with re-establishing credit and then we even want to help finance entrepreneurs in new businesses. That is our goal.

Third, I want to finish my Ph.d. Many years ago I worked on my Ph.d in political philosophy. I graduated my doctoral exams with highest distinction, the first person every to do so in the program and worked on my dissertation, but the Ph.d glut of the late 70’s made it tough to find a job teaching college. So my dissertation sits in our freezer and I want to finish it and hand it in. I called the head of my dissertation committee who is still alive and asked if I could submit it. He paused and said: “Well, David, that was 40 years ago.” “Yes, sir,” I said. “That would give new meaning to handing in a late paper, wouldn’t it?” “Yes, sir.” I said. He said: “Well, hand it in and let’s see what we can do.” It may take me 10 years to do that, but I will.

Thanks to David for sharing his story. If you’d like to connect, find him on LinkedIn here.

We’re constantly looking for great real estate tech entrepreneurs to feature. If that’s you, please read this post — then drop me a line (drew @ geekestatelabs dot com).

The post Meet the Real Estate Tech Founder: David Michonski from Quigler appeared first on GeekEstate Blog.

from theokbrowne digest https://geekestateblog.com/meet-the-real-estate-tech-founder-david-michonski-from-quigler/

[benjamingarden]

This Month On The Farm: July 2020

July's weather was full-on summer complete with heat, humidity, and lots o' sunshine.  And surprisingly, a lack of mosquitoes.  Hooray for that!  We did receive some rain and when we did, oh boy was it a lot.

Tents - Not Just For Camping

As you can see in the photo above, we decided to make use of a couple of our extra craft show tents and set them up on the upper and lower decks.  On the upper deck it's wide open, used just for rain cover and shade (Ollie is afraid of the netting walls so we left them off).  On the lower deck we used the netting walls and put our outdoor table and chairs inside so we can enjoy eating or sitting outside without bugs attacking.  Ollie, as noted, is afraid of the walls but if he's sitting in his tower with me by his side, he deals with it ok.

gutters and rain barrel installed!

Barrels Of Rain

Woo hoo!  Jay was able to get the gutters installed on the outbuildings and the rain barrels are up and working.  This has been on our "someday" list for years.  Years!  We've been able to successfully use the barrels to water the garden through most of the month, only needing to resort to our well water a couple of times.

Harvesting

As I've mentioned (probably too many times), our garden is mostly shaded.  We receive morning sun over about 70% of it and afternoon sun for a few hours over it all, and it's fully shaded the remainder of the day.  And so, our harvesting starts late.  Then, of course, we had the infamous whistle pig debacle that set us back a bit but we are now enjoying the fruits of our labor.

Green beans are coming in by the bushel.  I know that many people don't enjoy frozen green beans but we do, so I grow enough to enjoy fresh weekly as well as enough to put up in the freezer for winter and springtime eating.  I planted 3 types this year: Blue Lake, Red Noodle, and Calima Bush Beans.  The Red Noodle are still small and green but this is the first year we've planted them so, fingers crossed, they are delicious.

We finally have tomatoes!!!  Well, we finally have ripe tomatoes!  We have a ton, I mean TON, of green tomatoes amidst the 25 plants so we will definitely have plenty for fresh eating as well as for oven-drying to freeze for sauce during the winter.

We are also harvesting onions, cabbage, kale, swiss chard, mixed greens, arugula, microgreens, peppers (jalapeno, ancho, and bell), summer squash, zucchini, the last of the peas, beets, blueberries, blackberries, herbs and radish.

our sweet potato hill

Sadly, our pear and asian pear trees did not do well this year.  I've ordered new "partners" for them (and the paw paw tree) so our hope is we will be swimming in their fruits in a couple of years!  And our whistle pig took out all of our summer broccoli and cauliflower so we won't be harvesting either of those until fall.

At the start of the season I would grab a big bowl from the cupboard and Ollie and I would head to the garden to harvest whatever was ready.  One day, as my bowl was so full the veggies were spilling out of it, Jay looked at me and said "you need a bucket or a basket or something".  I said "I know.  Someone I follow on Instagram just posted a picture of her harvest basket that her husband made.  It was nice - metal mesh and wood sides and handle.  You're too busy though, so maybe next year."  I didn't give it another thought.

Later in the week Jay comes out of his shop holding the PERFECT harvest basket.  He had made it in between other projects he was working on.  Such a sweet gift! 

So now, Ollie and I take our harvest basket with us to the garden on our daily check-in.

looking up one of our mammoth sunflowers

the 2 mammoth sunflowers that survived the whistle pig feast are on the left

Homestead Projects

We have a list of projects that we are hoping to accomplish before fall.  We've managed to check off some of the easier projects, but not so much the larger projects.  Here's what we're chipping away at:

paint the dining room (done)

stain the back deck (done)

paint the living room

fix columns and lay new flooring on one of the two front porches (second porch will be done next year)

paint 2 sides of the house (same color, just refreshing it - the other 2 sides will be done next year)

install fence around the garden (temporarily done - permanent fencing will be done next spring)

build and install a new outdoor pole light in the front yard

build a small nesting box area/water station for garden (so when the chickens are tasked with the garden fall clean-up, they have a place to lay eggs)

chop and stack wood for the woodstove in the shop (done although we may chop a bit more)

install gutters on the outbuildings and hook-up rain barrels (done)

create a raised bed hoop house for one of our garden beds so we can grow greens through late fall/early winter (done for now - we purchased/found the items needed to make this in fall)

Animals

We are not going to add any more animals to the homestead for now and that includes chickens.  The current flock will get smaller, gradually, as the inevitable happens.  We had one pass away this week, she was one of the older girls, and we fully anticipate a few more passing this year from old age.  It certainly doesn't get any easier to deal with death, but at least we have developed a bit of a plan now, of keeping them safe and comfortable during the process.  We also know more about signs, because with chickens, they usually mask illness.  This helps us so we can watch closer and try to make sure they are protected.  

Death is one of the parts of having animals that is so difficult.  Unfortunately, as birds become sick and/or begin the dying process, some of the others can become very cannibalistic.  It's not a pretty sight.  So once we see that one of the girls isn't feeling well, we are able to remove them, but not totally, from the flock.  They are social creatures, so full removal seems to make them stressed and upset.  Instead, we make sure they are separated by a fence allowing them to still feel a part of the flock without getting incessantly pecked at and stepped on.  And no, we don't let them suffer.  If there's any sign of that, and we've done all we can do to make them well, we step in.  

Our overall plan is to get out of the egg-selling business and keep a very small flock (6-8 girls).  With a flock of 24 girls, it will take some time for the flock to naturally reduce (we're down from the 32 we had last year), so we won't be bringing in any chicks until we have less then 8 girls.

zucchini chocolate chip muffins

What Do You Do With All Of That Zucchini?

Isn't this the question you ask yourself every single year?  I always think I have a plan to keep up with it but I struggle by August.  I give it a heck of an effort though.  Here's what we've been doing with our zucchini:

slicing it lengthwise and grilling it (alternatively, you could broil or bake it).  We both love it.  Jay sprinkles a bit of parmesan on his and I like mine plain.  It's sooooo juicy and delicious.

cutting it into chunks and sautéing it with onions and corn.  I add a bit of butter to Jay's and mine is plain.  We just love the combination.

stuffing it.  As noted in this weekending post (at the bottom), I always enjoy coming up with new stuffing ideas.  The key is to bake, boil, or grill the scooped out zucchini halves before you fill and bake them so they are nice and soft once finished.

making our very favorite chocolate zucchini cake. Even my husband who isn't the world's biggest chocolate fan LOVES both versions.  The original version is here.  The healthier/reduced oil and sugar version is here.

making Kate's recipe for healthier zucchini bread.

making zucchini and chocolate chip muffins.  They are ah-mazing!  I just realized I've never shared the recipe here.  I'll try to get that on the blog!

making zucchini noodles with homemade pesto.  Soooo good!

adding zucchini to grilled kebabs.  (everything gets marinated in italian dressing first)

adding zucchini to soups such as minestrone.

making zucchini cobbler.  (tastes just like apple cobbler)

making veggie stew.  I use zucchini and whatever fresh veg is in the garden to make stew as the temps begin to drop in the fall.

I'm not a big fan of eating it raw (there's a weirdness to it) or as zucchini "fries", so those didn't make the list.  We've made zucchini pickles in the past but we aren't huge pickle eaters so I haven't been making them.  

I'd love to hear your family's favorite ways to eat zucchini!

Oliver, my garden/kitchen/preserving/everything helper

Preserving, Or, What We'll Be Eating This Winter

Since our garden is now in full swing, the preserving process has finally begun!  

Green beans - as noted above, they are being put up in the freezer weekly.

Peppers - so far we've only collected enough jalapeno's to preserve, so those have been made into pickled jalapeno rings.

Relish - our cucumbers are struggling this year.  I've never had an issue with cukes, so I'm not sure what's happening.  So we purchased some cucumbers from the farmer's market and, along with our bell peppers and onions we'll can enough relish for my husband to enjoy with his occasional hot dog lunch.

Zucchini - I did freeze some grated zucchini (portioned into 2 cup servings) that I can add to muffins, quick breads, etc.

Onions - we are drying quite a few and then I'll chop and freeze the remainder.

How do you figure out how much veggies to preserve?  This is a question I receive a lot.  For us, this is how I plan it.  We typically rotate the same dishes all winter long so I can usually predict how often during the week we'll eat veggies such as green beans, broccoli, winter squash, tomato sauce, etc.  I then times that by how many weeks we'll need preserved food and that's how I calculate it.  So, as an example, I plan on serving green beans twice a week for 28 weeks which means I will need to freeze 56 bags of green beans (bagged in single-serving sizes).  

It gets a bit more difficult with carrots, corn, onions, canned chopped tomatoes, and peppers because I use them on their own as well as in many different dishes.  Over time, through trial and error, I've made it so I can get pretty close.  For the frozen veggies, I flash-freeze them and then store them in large, gallon-size bags, so I can just take out what I need when I'm cooking.

That's July around the homestead!

This Month On The Farm: July 2020 was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)