#the Sedona apartments

[marticoresims]

Townieville!

A little project that was supposed to be just for fun, but felt so cool I decided to give it a little more character, make it CC-free and share it.

I adore the original townies of the base game. At some point I noticed that some of the adults share similarities with teens and kids - so I figured out how to merge them into whole families, based on their shared face templates, genetics and/or last names. Sadly, some last names were lost in the process, so I kept a few of them alive in street names.

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

And there are two things that annoy me about this town. First, FIVE (5) Sims use the 7th face template (Marylena, Melissa, teen Ivy, Orlando and Chandler). Second, the names Ivy and Orlando are doubled. But well, they're townies originally!

There are 12 families, that's quite a lot for a starting neighborhood, but many of them are single Sims (often single parents), so they have the potential to merge.

The families:

Bendett-LeTourneau Marisa Bendett and her daughters Sophie and Meadow, Brandi LeTourneau and her kids Alvin and Chloe.

GilsCarbo Goopy GilsCarbo is married to Marylena Hamilton (now GilsCarbo) and they have a teenage daughter named Ivy.

Cox Kennedy, Melissa and their two sons: Orlando and Chandler. They own a dog named Otis. Chandler is not Kennedy's biological son, see Melissa's memories for details.

Copur Ivy Copur and her roommate Abhijeet Deppiesse.

Tellerman Jan living alone, next door to her brother Komei.

Tellerman Komei, Christy and their daughter Brittany. There's a new baby on the way!

Centowski Orlando and Ricky living alone as teenagers after both their parents passed away.

Sims Benjamin Cox (Kennedy's brother), his fiancé Amin Sims, and their cat Heidi.

Sims Joe Sims (Amin's brother) and his daughter Marsha.

Lillard Brandon and his a lot younger sister Tosha.

Hogan Andrea and her teenage son Randy.

Bruty Sandy.

Other population notes: Anything other than the Pleasantview game folder has been cleared out of character files, so there are no vanilla pets, social groups, garden club members etc. All service Sims are Maxis because they belong in the Pleasantview folder. The only typically Maxis pets are Otis and Heidi that are replicas of the original adoption pool pets made in CAS. Other than that, if you call the adoption center, the game will spawn brand new strays and pets to adopt (NoStrayRespawn will prevent it). So don't panic if your game freezes for a few seconds! The only dog that already exists is a beta wolf named Bob. The alpha wolf is also to be generated and his name will probably be Balin. Since the townies are now playables, I made a few townie children, teens and adults. They are CAS Bin Sims. There's also the founder Sim that I needed as the first playable to spawn all the townies on the lot (his name is Deighton Freeman) and Nerissa Bee who's supposed to be the clothing store owner. This neighborhood has no subhoods. Feel free to add them if needed.

Genetics I fixed all "dyed hair" genetics, so e.g. Brandi LeTourneau now has brown hair genetically. I also gave everyone recessive genes, so they're not homozygous.

Townieville landscape: Made on the Sedona map but in lush, the town gives (as one of my viewers pointed out) the Blue Ridge Mountains vibe! So it could be located in North Carolina or Virginia.

All the houses are Maxis, just furnished by me. Some of them have been reconstructed on the inside so the families have enough space. Four families live in an apartment building that I built from scratch.

There are many needed community lots: a town pool, a clothing store, a convenience store, a game arcade, a tiny bistro, a park, a graveyard. Some of them are built by me and some are Maxis lots from the bin (often edited by me). There's also a lake beach on the hill, close to the Sims family.

The town revolves around a big hospital building where Brandi and Marisa work as doctors.

VERSION 2!!! Townieville's download has been updated. I edited some Sims' age* and gave them fewer skills (looked more closely into all Sims in that matter). Also the Hogan family didn't have a phone and a working kitchen counter because duhh. If you haven't started playing yet before 30 Sep 2024, I recommend redownloading! Actually, 17 October is the PROPER download. On 30 Sep I uploaded my already played neighborhood due to confusing folders 😅

*at first, I managed their age according to my custom lifespan, but then decided to go all Maxis, especially that it looked as if some Sims weren't aging (they were, but the age display didn't show any progress because it can only go so far as 29 days away).

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

Hope you like it! Happy Simming!

Credits: SimsWiki, because the hell would I remember everyone's eye color lmao

[flippantsmeagol]

Double exposure. Hillside near Bumble Bee, Az. And the 2024 solar eclipse. Taken minutes apart with different lenses, the light caused by the eclipse is special.

Giant sunspots made for wonderful Auroras this year, visible all the way to Arizona.

Above Sedona, Az. 5/11/2024.

[mamasrecipebook]

Sataraš

this is a traditional Bosnian vegetable dish, usually served over rice. i usually serve it with brown rice, which takes 40 minutes to cook. i put the rice on the stove first, and both are usually done right around the same time.

this can be made vegan by omitting or substituting the whipping cream (its primary purpose is to counteract the acidity of the tomatoes). i'm sure there are many variations of it, but this is the one i grew up with. note that the eggplant is an important addition - i personally don't like eggplant, but i will not make this dish without it.

ingredients

4-6 bell peppers (i like having multiple colors for the visual), roughly chopped (you want big chunks here, not diced)

2 small to medium or 1 very large tomato, roughly chopped

1 large (or two smaller) onion(s), chopped

1 small eggplant, skin-on if possible (if it's not organic, then probably peel it), cut into slices about the width of a finger (idk probably 1.5cm or 3/4 of an inch or so)

a handful of flour (any kind should work, i use whole wheat all purpose)

Vegeta (Croatian spice mix, available at international food stores and amazon if you're in the US) - probably one tablespoon-ish? i don't really measure, i just throw it in there. can always add more after a taste test. note that Vegeta includes salt, so don't also add salt.

olive oil and whipping cream (or milk, in a pinch)

steps:

clean and chop the veggies and heat some olive oil (medium-high) in a deep pan or large-ish pot (i make this in my Sedona 7.5qt non-stick wok with a glass lid which i bought for super cheap and is my absolute favorite. i was going to link to it on macy's website, but apparently it is no longer available. but if you ever see it out in the wild, it is hands down the best cooking vessel i've ever used.)

saute onion until soft and translucent. you can do this while chopping the bell peppers. if it starts to burn, add a tiny bit of water.

add bell peppers and saute for a couple minutes, while chopping tomato

add tomatoes, stir, lower to medium heat and let simmer while you do the next step

in a separate pan, heat up some olive oil on medium high, then press one side of each eggplant slice into the flour, then fry them, floured-side down for a couple of minutes - until the fried side darkens a little. it's important for the oil to be very hot before you put the eggplant in, or else it will just soak it all up.

back to your main pot, add the vegeta and a splash of whipping cream, stir thoroughly. at this point the peppers and tomato should be pretty soft and starting to meld together.

layer the eggplant slices, fried side up, on top of the other veggies, then cover with a lid and simmer on medium-low heat for 15-ish minutes, until everything is soft and cooked through

stir everything together - the eggplant should pretty much fall apart and integrate easily into the rest.

serve over rice!

[nihiladditaenihilperdidi]

Since 1991 Sedona has lived out of a backpack, calling any abandoned building or dingy hotel home. Occasionally, he would crash on an associate's couch. More than once he's been scolded for his lifestyle. Dangerous and unsustainable, they said. In his line of work, he couldn't see how four walls and a locked door would do him any good.

January suggested a co-living rent controlled apartment where a few of her ghouls reside. A four-story brick building one street shy of the Navy Yard.

Juno, January's favorite bartender and one of her oldest ghouls, lives in #101. A woman Sedona has never seen lives in #102, and #103 is an entity of gamer noise and petulant stomps.

Sedona keeps his backpack prepared, always leaning against the wall beside his mattress. A few clothes, the nicer ones, are hung on a rack someone from the above floor was throwing out. There is no television, no couch or coffee table. The only attempts toward comfort have been a comfortable bed spread (regardless of the mattress being on the floor), a chair and a small table.

[bewitchingbaker]

☤ - self care/first aid habits

It's 2:30pm on Saturday.

The sun shines on Sedona and it's citizens. People have begun grocery shopping, kids are loudly making plans for the local theatre to beat the heat and it's seniors are making their way home as the sun has gotten too powerful. Even Luna's Moonlight Delights has the A/C on blast in between serving it's customers.

Curiosly, one member of the fam is missing.

Chris Luna is at home as he had taken the day off. He had been putting in overtime the past 3 months with his family as well as taking care of any of their leftover paranormal issues so he earned some time to himself.

In the small one bedroom apartment, from a his small sound system the beautiful voice of Janis Joplin blessed the apartment walls. The baker could be heard humming along as he finishes his shower. Those massive hands finish rinsing out the last of his conditioner from his curls and beard.

Thank the Gods for his mother's levitation magic, as he's able to turn off the shower and get his towel without having to grope his way around. Once the his towel drapes itself around his waist, he steps out of the bathroom. Upon closer inspection, one could spot his face wash, moisturizer, silk bandana and finally his lotion following behind him.

With a content sigh he plops on the couch, eyes looking over the face mask, rolling tray and the new Giallo boxset he's ordered. With Quas and Dee fast asleep, he smiles at the wonderful day of nothing he has planned.

[ @brooklynislandgirl ]

[books-in-a-storm]

Paranormal Star Review

Title: Mistletoe Mates

Author: Sedona Ashe

Pages: 146

Rating:⭐⭐⭐⭐(4/5)

Synopsis:

My name’s Candi Cane and every eligible male in my pack is looking to get a lick this year. I’d rather die.

Let’s have a Christmas hunt, they said. It will be fun, they said. What ‘they’ didn’t say was who they planned to hunt... or what the prize would be. Oh yeah, that would be me on both accounts.

By ‘they’ I mean my father, Alpha of the Evergreen pack. He’s taken things too far this Christmas Eve. My pack is obsessed with Christmas. Humans come from all over to see our Christmas village with no idea they’re celebrating with werewolves.

None of the Evergreen wolves are my fated mates, so naturally, I turn tail and run… right into the arms of the, erm, Anti-Christmas leader of the Brimstone pack, Alpha Coal. He’s not known for his love of people. Who can blame him, though? The moon goddess must have a twisted sense of humor… because it turns out he’s my fated mate. …And so is his beta. …And his third in command.

Just when I think things couldn’t get worse, my attempt to shimmy down a chimney winds up with me stuck. How the heck does Santa do this? With wolves hunting me, three fated mates who hate Christmas, and my life falling apart, I’m not sure I can handle the secret that is about to be dropped on me… it just might be a Christmas Miracle.

First And Last Sentence: Here

[tonguetyd]

Hey, sorry i'm a bit late for the ask game but 📷, 🙃 and 🧸 ? ^^

Not late at all!!

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?: both my lockscreen and my home screen are photos I took out in Sedona Arizona cuz it was a *beautiful* place, lock is the sunset (all pink clouds) and then homescreen is the night sky with stars and constellations and stuff

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?: there’s this thing we measure in electricity called resistance, and it’s basically like what stops making electrical circuits go (think like a plug stopping water currents) and we measure that in ohms, right? Well the fun fact is that the OPPOSITE of resistance is reactance, and we measure THAT…in mhos. Because it’s the opposite of ohms. We’re very creative us engineers 😂

🧸 Favorite place to nap?: MY COUUUUUUCH. The couch from my apartment is like my top 10 favorite places, it’s so comfy, I love it so much, I can’t wait til I’m back out in my own space and can just lay on it all day

Thank you for the ask!!!

[sylvinuk-turkey]

We arrived at 1a to our hotel, in the rain. It is a room in a cave which is cool. But we didn’t spend much time enjoying the room, as we were tired and also knew we would need to wake up at 7:30a the next day.

Our guide and taxi driver (two separate people) met us at 9a at the hotel. Due to Gokay’s dad being famous in the tourism industry here, somehow his mom and dad convinced the dean of the local tourism school to have one of the grad students give us a two-day personal tour of the area.

He was very knowledgeable, speaks both Turkish and English, and was all around a lovely 30-year-old who’s getting married in 24 days! Had to share his “meet-cute.” His fiancé was on one of his tours, they connected on social media because he thought she was cute. After 2 years of conversing on social media, he asked her on a date… they live 12 hours (driving) apart from each other!

Luckily, it was cloudy but not raining this morning. So, we started at Devrent, a rock formation on the side of the road, which the guide called “imagination valley” because you can see a variety of shapes (e.g. camel and Virgin Mary) in the rock formations aka “fairy chimneys.”

Then we went to two sites, Zelve and Pasabaglari which were both government protected, so we paid to get in. But they were incredible! This area was covered in ash by 3 volcanoes at least 9 million years ago, which created this easy to carve, sandstone. Hence the cave hotels, and also these amazing sites of formations formed by air, water and change in temperature as well as caves dug into the rocks. If you’ve ever been to the indigenous sites near Sedona, it’s similar.

After that we went to a local pottery workshop (Alaaddin), where learned about the pottery of the region and the two types of clay they use. First red terracotta, from the river bottom. And the second was a white clay they mixed with quartz to make it strong. We got to try using their foot powered pottery wheel, with a pottery master, to make terracotta bowls. This was Gokay’s first time doing pottery!

We took a nice walk down the river walk, and then headed to lunch, at an old “kervansaray” (Caravan Palace for the music fans out there). An old inn to bring animals to and stay as a stop during a long journey. We had a fixed menu of soup, borek/appetizers, an entre with meat and rice, and then a fruit dessert. Can’t forget to mention the local wine. Due to the ash this region is great for growing wine grapes.

During lunch it started pouring but somehow the rest of the afternoon we were lucky because we were inside or in caves while it was raining and walking outside when it wasn’t.

We spent the afternoon seeing more caves and rock formations. We saw an old church built into a hill side with old frescos. This church was not government protected, so it was not in great shape. It was under someone’s current cave house that was also a cafe we had tea at as it poured rain.

Next we saw the famous “love valley” which has the most phalic shaped fairy chimneys. It was amazing because it cleared up enough for us to see one of the younger volcanoes of the region covered in snow.

We finished our day at Ortahisar looking out on the large fairy chimney has previously been a castle, because it’s so easily guarded. Sadly, a lot of it has collapsed.

We needed a nap at the end of this long day, but we went out to the local town of Urgup near our hotel and had a local dinner at “Cappadocia restaurant.” It was recommended by the guide and it was yummy.

We were going to do a balloon ride early tomorrow but with the possible rain, it got moved to Wednesday morning, so we have a chill night and tomorrow morning before we go around again.

[shamandrummer]

Meeting My Shamanic Teacher

An excerpt from my memoir, Riding Spirit Horse: A Journey into Shamanism.

In November of 1988, my wife and I sold our home in Bend, Oregon and moved to Sedona, Arizona. I was on a spiritual quest, and my wife was a reluctant companion. At that time, Sedona was becoming known as a spiritual mecca, attracting pilgrims from around the world. I was one of those pilgrims. My artistic wife found work in one of Sedona's well known art galleries, and I found work as a bartender at a Sedona racquet club. Art and tennis funded our spiritual quests.

After several relatively uneventful months in Sedona, I finally had a profound shamanic experience. I attended my first shamanic drumming circle a few blocks from our apartment. I had picked up an event flyer in a neighborhood metaphysical bookstore which read:

"Shamanic Drumming Circle. Jade Grigori is a traditional shaman of Mongolian ancestry. In keeping with his intent to make accessible to all peoples, regardless of blood line, the knowledge and practice of 'The Ways' of Shamanism, he is calling forth a drum circle. Those of the community seeking to join together with others of like heart-beat in learning and experiencing the empowerment and filling of the light-body through shamanic drum ways, are invited to participate. Tuesday Nights, 7 p.m. to 9 p.m."

When I arrived at the host's house, I joined about 15 people sitting casually in a circle around the perimeter of the living room floor. Some people had drums and others did not. Most of the furniture had been removed to accommodate a large gathering. Two of the participants were percussionists who were giving a performance at a local venue after the drum circle. They brought a wide assortment of frame and ethnic drums. They passed instruments around the circle so that each person had a drum if they chose to play. I received a rawhide frame drum and beater as it came round the circle to me. I had never played a frame drum before. It was a very eclectic mix of people and rhythm instruments. I came to know a few of these participants very well in the months to come.

After our host introduced Jade, the elder shaman entered the room and sat down in our circle. His long hair was braided in a ponytail and he wore a deerskin jacket and a red headband. He carried a double-sided frame drum and a large medicine bundle. Jade laid down his drum and opened the leather bundle, removing feathers and ritual objects. He then lit a charcoal disc in an incense burner. In the darkened room, I could see blue sparks dance off of the charcoal as the sacred fire came to life. Jade sprinkled herbs on the burning charcoal and began smudging his sacred objects with three eagle feathers, fanning the smoke outward into the entire space. Smudging is the burning of herbs or incense for cleansing, purification and protection of sacred space.

Double-headed drums

Jade explained that a double-headed drum is preferred by some shamans for it constitutes a microcosm of the Universe, unites the masculine and feminine principles, and produces sounds with a tremendous dynamic range. The higher-pitched (red) head of the drum tends to affect higher levels of consciousness. Typically, shamans associate this drumhead with the sky, Upper World and masculine energy. It is linked to the mythic Spirit Eagle who perches atop the World Tree. Eagle Brother will carry the shaman's prayers to the Upper World, or the shaman may transform into Spirit Eagle and soar into the celestial realm. The shaman and the eagle are both intercessors between the celestial and human realms.

The opposite or lower-pitched (black) head of the drum affects deeper levels of consciousness. It is commonly associated with the Lower World, feminine energy and the archetypal Horse of mythology. The repetitive, droning rhythm of shamanic drumming is suggestive of a horse on a journey. Throughout Mongolia, shamans describe it as the exalted, buoyant state that one mounts and rides from plane to plane. Mongolian shamans ride omisi murin, their name for Spirit Horse, into the Lower World on healing journeys or direct Spirit Horse to carry the power and healing to the intended destination.

The rim of the drum is associated with the Middle World and the World Tree. The frame of the shaman's drum is invariably made of wood derived from a sacred tree associated with the Tree of Life or World Tree. Like the World Tree, which links the upper and lower realms of existence, the rim links the two sides of the drum--the yin and the yang. A double-headed drum integrates the feminine and masculine aspects of the Universe within itself. It restores the balance of these two opposite yet complementary energies.

Three-round shamanic drum journey

After smudging, Jade instructed us in the ritual use of the sacrament tobacco, the unifying thread of communication between humans and the spiritual powers. He showed us how to empower our drums by offering tobacco smoke or a pinch of tobacco. Offering grandfather tobacco carries our prayers to the "Loom of Creation," causing the "Tapestry of Creation" to reweave itself in accordance with those prayers.

Next, Jade taught us the drum beats for invoking Eagle Brother and Spirit Horse.(1) He instructed us to play the rhythms in unison so that the drumming creates a mesmerizing effect to induce trance. He cautioned us to avoid jam or free form drumming, which produces a cacophony of competing beats. The goal is to produce a sound that is unifying and consciousness-shifting. Sound waves carry the specific intention or desired outcome of the ceremony. Together the drummers create the necessary rhythmic container that channels the energy generated by the ritual performance toward the intended objective.

After learning the two rhythms, Jade set a group intention and then led us in a three-round shamanic drum journey. During the first round, we drummed the eagle-beat on the celestial (higher-pitched) head of our drums and soared on the wings of Eagle Brother into the Upper World. In the second round, we drummed the horse-beat on the Lower World (lower-pitched) head of our drums and rode Spirit Horse on a journey into the Lower World. In the third round, we switched back to the celestial side of our drums and again drummed the eagle-beat, offering prayers of thanks and gratitude to Eagle Brother and Spirit Horse for their help and assistance. Finally, Jade signaled the end of our journey and the drum circle with four strong beats.

I was transformed by the power of that drum circle--it was a defining moment in my life. There was something magical about our group journey experience. Ecstatic trance seemed to be more powerful and transcendent in a group setting. The vibrant energy was unifying, expansive and palpable. I could feel the spirits in the room. Shamanic drumming shook the Earth beneath me, split me wide open and lifted my spirit skyward. The ecstatic rhythms resonated to my very core. From that point on, I was hooked on drumming!

The next day, I went back to the store where I had picked up the drum circle flyer and purchased an octagonal double-sided frame drum. I returned week after week to Jade's shamanic drumming circles to learn the myths, healing rhythms and drum ways of an ancient shamanic lineage. Jade encouraged us to drum as often as possible in between our weekly gatherings. I would hike almost daily into one of the many red sandstone canyons around Sedona to drum. I gradually built up stamina while learning how to play the drum and ride its rhythm at the same time. Drumming inspired and empowered me in a way I had never felt before. Through drumming, I found a meaningful way to express my inner self without words. More importantly, I discovered my true calling--shamanic drumming.

1. You can listen to the Eagle Chant (eagle-beat) and Horse Chant (horse-beat) at: <http://www.archive.org/details/SacredSongsAndChants/>. You can find the lyrics at: <https://archive.org/details/SacredSongsChantsLyrics>.

[coreymichaelsmithson]

I Gave My Heart To The Junkman

Yesterday I sold my best friend to a stranger for $315.

This was, of course, far less than what a 2005 Kia Sedona ought to fetch, even for scrap alone. There were certainly a lot of useful parts still tucked inside ... but beyond any question of material worth, the sentimental value was incalculable. After all, I had poured so many financial and emotional resources into this long-term relationship, and steadfastly made repairs whenever the need arose, and had shown more unflagging devotion to this soccer-mom minivan than I had for some of my boyfriends, jobs, teeth, and homes. She was my first car, and like any first love, a first car carries a special significance.

I bought my Pamela in March of 2017, springing her from a dusty little shitpot in Bonner Springs, Kansas. I paid $2300 in cash for her, and easily poured ten times that amount into repairs. In just under six years, I replaced her starter, radiator, alternator, thermostat (twice), drive shafts, brakes, catalytic converters, power steering pump, rear shocks, rack and pinion, tie rods, hub and bearing, window motor, door actuator, timing belt, alternator belt, EGR valve, purge solenoid, charcoal canister, air conditioning compressor, cooling fan, valve cover gasket, tensioner and idler pulleys, exhaust Y-valve, oxygen sensors, hood struts, coils, hoses, filters, batteries, rear window, and three camshaft position sensors. We broke down in Iowa, Colorado, Washington, and Florida. We blew tires in Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Minnesota, and Georgia. I got to know the various components of my vehicle, one by one, as they fell apart.

Last week, she failed to start. In and of itself, this wasn't anything new, as she had crapped out so often in the past. But this time felt different, somehow. There was something so final about this silence. I knew, in that moment, that Pamela just didn't want to go any further. She had gone far enough.

With a heavy heart, I made arrangements with the junkman to come cart her away. I took the next few days to clean her out, retrieving all the tools, camping gear, and souvenirs I had stashed in her crates and cargo areas. The last thing I removed was the bobbing statue of Hula Girl, which I had glued to the dashboard back in Missouri. Her nose had gotten chipped in Iowa, when a sudden crosswind thwacked my camera's lens cap across her face ... but her irrepressible smile and cheerful ALOHA had accompanied me for over 99,700 miles, and I couldn't bear to leave her behind. I did, however, tear off the last few shreds of her disintegrating grass skirt, which no longer afforded her any dignity.

I sat for a long while in the driver's seat, holding the wheel that had been in my hands for thousands of hours. Its foam grip had been shredded by the stress of too many white-knuckled rides, all those times when I prayed for us to make it through blinding downpours or snowstorms or terrifying deep country two-lanes or narrow construction zones.

Sitting there, like a kid playing vroom vroom in the family car, I recounted some of our many adventures aloud. "Remember driving down the Vegas Strip? That supercell catching up with us in Valentine? That sunset in the wind farm? Heading out to the Olympic Coast? Devil's Tower? Ed Gein's place? Tinkertown? Bonneville? Waco? That refinery by Dodge City? Sunrise at Monument Valley? That one flat we got in Viroqua, and the farmer helping us change it? Dawn at Cades Cove? Those little hilltop dairy farms in The Driftless? The Badlands? The rim of Bryce Canyon? The meadow in South Park? The pueblos at Bandelier? Finding the trail at Butler Wash? The caves of Maquoketa? Picking up that hitchhiker in Dinosaur? Taking the Mountain Loop Highway up to Big Four? Morning mist on Steamboat Slough? The salmon run at Granite Falls? Taking the Alaskan Way Viaduct? Running along the Skykomish? The vultures on 312? Shiloh? Hooking up with the guys at Magnetic Springs? Going up Mt. Baker?" This went on for ages. Each memory brought to mind another, and another, experiences strung in sequence like beads on a string, a rosary of perils and deeds. After about ten minutes, my soliloquy devolved into a précis ... all I had to do was murmur "Kitty Hawk" and we returned immediately to one of the worst nights in our history, when we had to drive 700 miles through a tornado outbreak with a busted alternator and half a dozen batteries, sometimes driving blind in the rain without headlights or windshield wipers. We had so many close calls in our time together, and our survival sometimes seemed miraculous.

Finally, words failed me, and I wept. I sat there, finding myself once again broke and broken, a few weeks shy of turning forty-nine, devastated at another huge loss, crying my eyes out because my car wouldn't start.

Pamela had listened to me laugh, scream, sing. She heard my deepest secrets, my most buried fears, all the things I will never share with another living soul. She held space, literally and figuratively, as I processed early traumas, the kinds of injuries that had to be coaxed out of my soul like splinters. She kept me company as I mourned lost friendships, raged at failed opportunities, exulted over spiritual and professional victories, learned the lyrics to dozens of showtunes, and sifted through the smoldering wreckage of too many love affairs. She saw me at my very best and my very worst.

We traveled from coast to coast, crossed the Mississippi dozens of times, explored every kind of terrain in the continental US. We'd chased after tornadoes in Nebraska, dodged hailstones the size of tangerines in Oklahoma, coasted into Death Valley with squealing brakes, gunned through the Cascades on bald tires. We'd raced across salt flats and skidded out on gravel roads and slid on ice and got stuck in the mud. We climbed narrow mountain roads, corkscrewing upwards like a buggy in a Disney darkride, and were rewarded near the summits by whispering aspen groves and skies the color of lead. We followed thunderheads across hundreds of miles of cornfields, doubled back to photograph collapsing barns, got lost and found and lost again. We nearly ran out of gas on a stretch of moonlit desert, and were almost forced off the road by a madman near Mexican Hat. We saw insect swarms, murmurations of starlings, clouds rising from firs, incandescent sunsets, fogbound highways at 4:am, hazy feedlots, mine shafts, floodwaters, dust devils, wildfires. She had given me a treasury of beauty.

Pamela drove me to jobs in corporate office demolition, sanitation, construction site cleanup, disaster services, aerospace manufacturing, warehouse fulfillment, toy merchandising, and food delivery. She waited in parking lots while I went skydiving and whitewater rafting and hiking, while I ate, slept, got laid, gathered sharks' teeth, watched lions mate, and raised a circus tent. She carried me to zoos, sex clubs, cemeteries, battlefields, dormant volcanoes, dams, lighthouses, shipwrecks, museums, rodeos, waterfalls, weird roadside attractions, a nude beach, a monastery, a cassowary ranch, and the homes of countless friends. We saw Monterrey, Santa Fe, Orlando, Tukwila, Minneapolis, Fort Sumner, Little Rock, Mukilteo, Pensacola, Oso, Tulsa, Jupiter, Oakland, Bellingham, Eureka Springs, St. Louis, Mosca, Wichita, Portland, Pahrump, Ocracoke, Waco, Memphis, Sarasota, Montgomery, Estes Park, Vernal, Coeur d'Alene, Peoria, Birmingham, Lumberton, Des Moines, Topeka, Darwin, Beaverton, Bemidji, Enid, Deadwood, Hot Springs, Cullman, Austin, Ocean Springs, Chattanooga, Carlinville, Abilene, Darrington, Nashville, Moab, Pagosa Springs, McEwen, and innumerable parks, farms, rivers, and valleys. She took me to Judy Garland's birthplace in Grand Rapids and my own origin point in Ellensburg. We killed a hare near Ogallala and drove below arches made of lightning. We endured for far too long the joyless mazes of suburbia. She brought me into and back out of my homeland. She was my home at times.

Yesterday, a tow truck showed up on Reef Drive, our residence for the last four years. Pamela was marooned just behind her usual spot, along a hedge at the front of the property, in the shade of a nearby palm. A flock of scarlet ibises used to roost on her roof, and a clowder of feral kittens sometimes took shelter beneath her when it rained. There was a big rectangle where the grass had long ago given up and stopped growing. All of this was about to change.

The junkman was a friendly, toothless old chap named Thomas, and he had been doing this job for decades. His skin had been leathered by the sun, his hair bleached into straw, and save for the ball cap and tee shirt he looked exactly like a Gold Rush prospector. On his flatbed slumped a '71 Ford Bronco which had clearly seen better days. In any other circumstances, I'd be delighted to photograph such a wreck ... its windows were blown out, most of its panels were rusted, and it had an appealing patina of green mold, the sort of picturesque decay that I've spent decades documenting. But now it all seemed just too sad for words ... two old vehicles, far past their prime, being taken out to pasture. I thought of how horses used to get shot if they couldn't be ridden anymore.

Thomas indicated that my car seemed to be in pretty salvageable shape, though, and that she was likely to undergo a refurb rather than being scrapped altogether. This gave me a ray of hope that perhaps Pamela might yet play a special role in somebody else's life, and that just because our road had come to an end did not mean she herself was destined for oblivion.

I told him a little about the vehicle he was buying, how famous she was, how there were loyal followers around the world who had been cheering her on for the past several years. "This isn't just a car," I said. "Pamela's been through a lot. She's special." I told him about the memoir I published last year, about how we had traveled together over the whole country and seen the most incredible sights. He nodded and smiled and feigned interest, as he pointed out the numerous papers for me to sign off on. Then he handed me a check, which seemed pitifully small in my hands, and he set about hooking my poor old hooptie onto the tow rig.

I'd witnessed this ritual so many times ... the slow humiliating whine as my baby got hoisted into position, the rattle of chains around her undercarriage, the sinking helpless feeling as the tow truck lurched forward. I had already seen her get pulled away when her radiator blew up in Boulder, when her starter crapped out in Bothell, when her fuel lines got clogged in St. Augustine. But this time was different. This time there would be no joyful reunion at the shop. I stood across the street, and the reality of the situation hit me full force. Pamela, the car who had transformed my entire life, who had freed me from a desperately unhappy stint in Kansas City, who had framed most of America in her windshield, was leaving me forever. In a few minutes, she would disappear, and that would be that.

It's different in the movies, when a love story wraps up. Your heroes ride off into the sunset together, and the music swells, and THE END appears in big fancy letters over the clouds. And as the credits roll and you stand and brush popcorn from your lap you enjoy a tidy sense of closure. There is a clear sense of something having been finished, of a narrative having reached its rightful conclusion. My last few minutes with this minivan, on the other hand, felt weirdly anticlimactic and unsatisfying. I caught a few seconds of video on my phone as the tow truck began its journey. Then I just stood in the middle of the road with my arms hanging limply at my sides and watched as the most meaningful possession of my life rolled away, growing smaller and smaller until she reached the end of the block. And then the tow truck rounded the corner, and left my view altogether, and my Pamela was finally gone.

"Goodbye, old girl," I said, wiping my eyes. "Goodbye." Then I went back to my studio, returned to my easel, picked up a brush, and began the search for a new frontier.

[baltimorebullets]

me: damn . wish the amphetamine salts actually did anything

me at 12:25 am having miscalculated my bedtime: i need a new tattoo and chicken tendies and the book sedonas and the book sunrises and the purple books (not sunset) and a different tattoo and sega wot and celeste (video game) and a new apartment and a new wardrobe and some decent goddamn cookies why are they so hard to FIND and

[aondaneedles]

Hi, it's Nef again - thanks a lot for your reply to my previous anon ask (about the apartment lots in your custom subhoods).

I just tried setting up Sedona Deluxe in a CC-free game as you suggested (only had Mootilda's multiple subhood fixes and a camera mod in it), attached it to an empty main hood and sadly ended up with the same problem :/ This time I took a screenshot to illustrate: Here's May Vandermorgan trying to move in next to the Gauthiers, although obviously being a playable - and there's already two of them.

And before 10 am we got a whole parade of them :D

This happens in every save, both in Sedona and Saguaro. The playable doesn't need to be from the same subhood either, I once had 10 or so identical guys from Emerald Heights Downtown trying to move in ^^

One thing I noticed is that the rampaging playable apparently doesn't "overwrite" or delete the townies' apartment tokens, they just take priority over them. If I "Fix Bad Neighbors" the lots with the Batbox, it shows all the tokens being removed from everyone, including the townies that were originally supposed to live there (resulting in the apartments being filled with random townies instead). That's why I thought the townies having the apartment tokens in the first place might be what's causing the issue, but I'm too new to modding to say for sure. Also I haven't thought to check if SimPE creates actual duplicates of the playable before deleting the NH again ... I figure it does though.

I don't know if all that even makes sense and if so, whether it is something that can be fixed. I personally don't mind batboxing the lots. Worst case scenario is making the townies playable and moving them into their destined homes! But I figured I'd let you know about it either way :)

Yeah, that's... not good. It's definitely not a modding conflict, so thank you for bringing it to my attention. Unfortunately, that's well above my knowledge of the game, so I'll have to throw it to the hive mind and hope someone in the community knows what a) might be causing it and b) how to fix it...

Simmers, any idea what's going on here and how to fix it?

[flippantsmeagol]

Minutes apart. Looking North and South along the road to Sacred Mountain in Sedona.

[platonicjesus]

Ignore this, this is just me simping for Florence and writting a florence x me that i didn't finish… other florence simps can read it ig but WHY WOULD YOU ;_;

 I put my headphones on and played Sedona. Sedona by Sir Chloe, more exactly. I layed down on my bed and closed my eyes, focusing on the melody in my ears. The music calmed me down and took away all my current worries. I felt light, happy, comfortable, free. Free of all my emotions, free of all my problems, free of my insecurities.

As I became unaware of my surroundings, a door opened, not that I realised it with my headphones on and eyes closed. A bubbly girl with turquoise colored hair and a bright yellow hazmat suit entered the bedroom but was welcomed by a mess. A desk with boxes, books, tissues, and drawing supplies accompagned with a chair used as a dressing to hang my clothes on was on the left of my room. not far away, an actual dressing with clothes sloppily put on it. A bag torn apart rested on the floor along with tissues and pillows.

The woman walked closer to me and put her hand on my head, ruffling my hair. She removed my headphones and sat on the side of the bed to tell me to wake up. Tired, I mumbled a soft “What do you want…” to Florence. The girl looked at me for a second, as if I had the power to read her mind and guess what she wanted and what made her disturb me. Eventually, she spoke up.

“I wanted to take the lovely Y/N on a date, but I think the date is going to be tidying your room.”

I groaned at her words, unpleased by both ideas. I really didn't want to go anywhere and go anything, even if the place was a five star restaurant with heavenly dishes. But what I wanted even less was tidying my room. It was a mess, and I was aware of that. A mess that I didn't have the energy to clean.

I looked at the person scolding me. She looked back at me.

“I don't want to.”

“You have to.”

“Fuck you and your pretty face.”

I turned around, my back now facing her while I tried to nap. This didn't do anything as she pulled me out of the bed, which got an alarmed squeal out of me. I tried to get out of her grasp, but she just sat me on my messy desk.

“What the fuck- Not fair ! You have bionic limbs and I'm a weak person !”

I got down the desk, but she just put me there again. I sighed from annoyance and looked her in the eyes, trying to understand her intentions. Sadly, her pokerface made it hard. I just kept staring at her. Her lips looked soft, and so did her skin. I tried to determine what kind of lip balm she was wearing. Cherry ? Strawberry ? Mint ? Maybe she didn't have any.

“My eyes are just a bit over.”

I blushed at her comment. I didn't really notice I was staring at her lips so intensely, but I was now self-aware of it thanks to her call out. Florence didn't give me time to fully digest her words and spoke up again.

“We need to tidy up this place. Your trashcan is overfilled, almost all of your clothes are dirty, and your desk is full of books.”

“You made me sit on them, it's uncomfortable.”

I soon realised I shouldn't have complained, because she grabbed me in her arms. I struggled in her arms, but she just ignored it, easily keeping me still. I whined for a bit but gave up after a while, resting my head against the crook of her neck. It wasn't what I wanted, but my current position didn't allow me to put my head where I actually wanted, so I went for that.

“You're not escaping tidying the room with affectionate touches.”

“You're the worst girlfriend ever."

im not finishing this

[theusaleaders]

How Many States is in USA and What Sets Each Apart?

Did you know that the USA has more states than countries in Europe? That’s right, the USA has 50 states, while Europe has 44 countries.

But,how did the USA get so many states, and what makes each state unique?

The USA started as 13 colonies that declared their independence from Great Britain in 1776. Over the years, more territories were added to the USA, either by purchase, treaty, or war.

The last state to join the USA was Hawaii in 1959. Each state has its own government, laws, culture, and identity, and some even have their own motto, anthem, and flag.

The main purpose of this blog post is to provide you with a complete list of all the states in the USA, along with some facts and figures about each one.

So are you ready to explore how many states is in USA and what sets them apart? Let’s get started!

Now let’s have a look at some of the lesser-known facts about some of the states in the USA

Alaska

Alaska, known as “The Last Frontier,” boasts North America’s tallest mountain at 20,310 feet, with Denali National Park as a must-visit.

This state, which became the 49th in the United States in 1959, offers a wealth of natural wonders and adventures.

If you’ve ever wondered how many states is in USA that offer such remote beauty, Alaska certainly stands out.

Visitors can witness the Northern Lights, a significant attraction, on Aurora Borealis tours from Fairbanks in winter.

For those seeking relaxation, they can explore the Chena Hot Springs for a cozy experience. If you’re a wildlife enthusiast, don’t miss the chance to encounter brown bears at Brooks Falls in Katmai National Park in July.

To uncover even more Alaskan adventures, check out “The Best Things to Do in Alaska” and explore Anchorage with “Mushing Through Anchorage.

2. Arizona

Arizona, known as “The Grand Canyon State,” offers easy access to the iconic Grand Canyon and guided rim tours.

If you’re curious about how many states is in USA with such remarkable natural formations, Arizona is a must-see.

This southwestern state, which joined the Union on February 14, 1912, is renowned for its stunning natural landscapes and vibrant cities.

It boasts remarkable features such as slot canyons, rock formations like Coyote Buttes and “The Wave,” and the enchanting city of Sedona with its famous hikes.

Additionally, Page, situated near the Utah border, provides an ideal gateway for exploring Lake Powell, embarking on Colorado River hikes, and gazing upon the majestic Horseshoe Bend Overlook.

Click here to read more: https://theusaleaders.com/blog/how-many-states-is-in-usa/

[pitaficionado]

Contrasts V

As I checked into the luxurious Sedona resort, a rush of emotions washed over me, a mix of excitement and an undeniable sense of longing. I thought about the intense encounters Derek and I had shared over the last few weeks—the whispered confessions, the stolen nights, and his admission that he loved me, which had changed everything. Since that moment, it had been nearly impossible to be apart from him for more than a few days. His absence felt like a physical ache, a constant reminder of the connection we’d built. The resort's elegance, the sweeping desert landscape—it all felt surreal, a stark contrast to the raw intimacy we shared. As I wandered through the grand halls and took in the breathtaking views, all I could think about was seeing Derek again, the thrill of the familiar waiting just out of reach, and the bittersweet knowledge of the vows he was preparing to make to another man.

As I unpacked in my luxurious room, I took stock of everything I’d brought: a sleek black tie outfit for the ceremony, the crisp white shirt and tailored jacket a stark symbol of the formal role I’d play in the upcoming celebration. But tucked carefully in the corner of my suitcase was something far more charged—a crumpled, sweat-stained wifebeater sealed in a plastic baggy. Derek had been asking me to wear it during our most intense nights together, and it bore tangible marks of those encounters: faded stains, remnants of his climaxes and the physical proof of the passion we shared, over and over. I held the worn fabric for a moment, feeling its weight against my fingertips, and a flood of memories came rushing back. It was more than just a piece of clothing; it was a quiet testament to our intimacy.

I looked over the wedding itinerary again, the elegant script outlining each carefully planned event, from the sunset vows to the grand reception that would follow. The entire weekend was meticulously curated, yet all I could think about was Derek’s unusual request—that I wear the lived-in wifebeater beneath my black tie attire, his silent nod to the world we shared beneath the polished surface. The thought of it made my heart pound; knowing that as he stood there, exchanging vows, he’d be fully aware of what I wore hidden just out of sight, the soft fabric steeped in the memories of our passion. It was our secret, woven into the day’s formality, a reminder of the heat between us amidst the spectacle, a quiet thrill shared only by us even in the midst of his grand commitment.

As I sat in my room, I thought of Derek’s other request: he wanted me to shower using the same brand of scented body lotion his fiancé regularly wore, then slip into my formal attire layered with his fiancé’s cologne. It was as if Derek wanted to blend two worlds—his soon-to-be-married life with the life we’d carved out together. The idea of wearing another man's scent, of letting it mingle with my own as it clung to the worn wifebeater hidden beneath the polished black tie, stirred a quiet thrill in me. It was almost like stepping into his fiancé’s presence, a closeness that was intimate yet distant, a subtle reminder that no matter how the day unfolded, Derek was somehow inviting me to share in his new reality, bound by layers only we could fully understand.

In the steamy shower, I lathered up slowly, my hands working over every inch of my hairy chest and spending extra time on my pits, the scent of the body lotion filling the space around me. I thought about the flimsy explanation Derek had come up with to explain my presence at the wedding—a casual excuse, something about a distant college friend reconnecting, just enough to pass without raising too many questions. The thought of it was almost comical; it was a thin veil over what truly bound us, an intimacy hidden in plain sight. As I rinsed off, I pictured myself stepping into the ceremony, my own body steeped in the scent of his fiancé, cloaked in formality yet carrying traces of the private moments Derek and I had shared. The whole plan was absurdly thrilling, an unspoken dare lingering between us, amplifying the anticipation of the day ahead.

Stepping out of the shower, still wrapped in the warm scent of Derek's fiancé’s body lotion, I picked up my phone to find a series of new messages from Derek. He’d sent several photos of himself getting ready, each one showcasing his progress as he slipped into his wedding attire, the formal lines of his suit accentuating his form. In every shot, he’d made sure to emphasize his pits—lifting his arms, letting me see glimpses of bare skin under the crisp shirt, with that familiar light dusting of hair. The way he posed was teasing, almost challenging, and I felt a surge of excitement at the subtle game he was playing. Even on this day, amid all its significance, he’d found a way to remind me of our connection, keeping me close even as he prepared to stand beside another man.

The last message from Derek popped up just as I was buttoning my shirt. “Sweating bullets from nerves,” he wrote, the anxiety of the day slipping through. But a moment later, another message arrived, this one more familiar, charged with that playful edge only we shared. “Better get ready,” he teased, “you’ll be tasting every drop of this sweat later tonight.” The words stirred a thrill that coursed through me, a quiet promise that even in the middle of his grand celebration, Derek’s thoughts were with me. As I tucked in my shirt, anticipation hummed through me; tonight would be ours, in a way that words couldn’t capture but his messages made achingly clear.