#wanted to use and i remembered how much fun i had reading through a mongolian grammar to work out how possessives and the locative case work

[arcadianico]

someone needs to give me a list of random sentences to translate into a language i don’t know. this will fix me

[solliewriter]

Archery for Writers

In this post, I'll basically tell you the small stuff: e.g., what your archer will complain about to other archers, how different bows sound, what it's like shooting in the rain or snow, finding the goddamn arrows, etc. I’m also going into technical details and will discuss the legendary Robin Hood shot.

If you want a good basic primer, T.S. Strange on Instagram did a pretty good job https://www.instagram.com/p/COat-W1rQ7o/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, if you're ready for beyond the basics, I've got you covered.

To be clear, my knowledge of archery is primarily Western traditional archery. PLEASE research the history of the type of bow you choose as they’re all unique. There’s a reason why Mongolian bows are so different than English longbows.

I have primarily shot in thick, brushy forest (not parks, actual wilderness), so when you read, that I'm talking about that setting unless specified. My favored bow is a reflex/deflex, which is basically a recurve/longbow hybrid. I have also been doing archery for as long as I can remember, so yes I know how to shoot.

SOUNDS

Different bows make different sounds. Recurve bows are loud. They make this twangy sound when you use them, unless you put a silencer on the string. This silencer is usually a fluff-type thing that is woven around and through the string. The silencer doesn't make them perfectly silent. It's more of a muffler than a silencer.

Longbows are quieter, but they still make noise. It's short, grunt-like hum that usually only the archer and their immediate compatriots can hear.

For Your Character (FYC): a recurve archer and a longbow archer will very likely pester each other about noise.

SIGHT, pt1

You can shoot blind. Sorta. No, you can't put on a blindfold and still hit your target, but you can and will extrapolate what you see. As mentioned, I've done almost all of my shooting in the forest, in the mountains. Visibility is  less than perfect. You have to aim through hundreds of branches, and the likelihood of hitting a branch and sending your arrow flying into No Man's Land is very likely as a beginner and amateur. Shooting through the forest isn't like in Lord of the Rings or Hunger Games, unless that forest is a well maintained park with marked trails made by things other than deer and bear. (FYI, bear trails are perfect for humans.) Half the time, if you move an inch the wrong way, your arrow will be way off target. Missing by an inch means missing by several feet, which is really far in archery.

More than once, you see your target at one angle, but can't shoot it at another. I've experienced this frequently because my Viking sized dad will pick targets that I, his 5'2" daughter, am too short to see. I have to stand on tip toes to see his target, then lower myself into almost a crouch to shoot. I still hit the target.

FYC: Besides the obvious banter that comes from discussing height differences, there are a few other things to note. In the forest, it can be hard to find two good angles to shoot something. This can lead to frustration, complaining, attempts to get the other archer out of the way, and etc.

SIGHT, pt 2

I’m talking about recurve/longbows, so there are no actual sights to look through. 

This is where things are controversial. There’s a gap shooting and an instinctive shooting. Gap shooters guess the distance, then aim. Instinctive shooters just sorta ... wing it.

I’m not going to throw shade at either method. But here’s a key reason why one would use one style or another: gap shooting is largely ineffective in mountainous, forested terrain when you can’t really see much. So, if you have an archer from a prairie and an archer from the mountains, it’s likely they use different aiming styles.

Side note: Flu-flu shots are unique and fun shots that use big feathery arrows. You shoot nearly straight up in hopes of getting your arrow on top of the target rather than straight toward it. When doing this, you can either look at the target or look at your arrow angle, but you can't do both at the same time. You have to shoot blind. Flu-flu shots aren't good for killing creatures, but they are pure fun. This is a good example of using instinctive shooting rather than gap shooting. Also, flu-flu shots are prone to being highly effective by the wind, and it’s very easy to get them stuck in a tree for all eternity. There’s a shooting area my roving family calls “The Valley of Lost Flu-Flu’s.” It’s called this for very good reason.

SMELLS

Bows don't smell, unless you've just added beeswax to the string (strings fray, wax stops that). Arrows smell for about a day after you paint them and glue them.

Leather, however, smells and remains smelly forever. I personally like the smell (though I suppose I'm actually smelling the oil, not the leather). It's very hard to describe, partially because I have so many memories involved. Unfortunately, I have to leave this to you. Just note, leather from armguards, quivers, and pouches don't smell the same as couches and your typical urbanite materials. Find your hippie friend and ask them to make you a leather bracelet or something. That'll teach you the smell.

FYC: Your archer will have very strong memories associated with the smell of leather and beeswax. They will be warm fuzzy memories.

TOUCH, aka shooting in the cold weather

All right, it's cold, and your character is wearing a big coat. Big, puffy sleeves to fit all those layers beneath. No biggie, just nock the arrow, draw, and shoot ...

FWAP!

The string hits the character's coat sleeve. The arrow goes about ten feet before falling limp to the ground like a sad puppy.

To fix this, you need to tie a thick band around your character's sleeve. Easy peasy.

Now, your OC tries shooting again. Unfortunately, it’s been raining, so to their dismay, they've noticed that their turkey fletchings (standard in the western US states) have flattened and shrunk. It looks like there is barely any fletching at all. Fear not, the arrow will still fly. It'll just make aiming a bit harder, but not terribly worse. Those fletchings are just stabilizers.

Your OC goes home. When they take off their shooting glove/tab, they notice their fingers are yellow. Oh no! Don't worry, your OC is not sick, the dye has just come off the leather in the rain. It'll wash off, but it'll probably happen every time the leather gets wet for the next few months unless your OC makes a new glove/tab that isn't dyed.

LEFTIE VS RIGHTIE

It is extremely uncommon to find a left-handed archer. This is because even if someone’s right-handed doing their day-to-day things, it doesn’t mean they’re going to be right-handed for archery.

In archery, whether you shoot left or right handed is determined by your eye dominance. Most people are right-eyed dominant, so much so it’s very hard for a left-eye dominant archer (such as myself) to find new bows. And I mean really hard. Go anywhere and there’s a severe shortage of left-dominant archery gear simply because it’s that rare (hah I’m special- jk).

BOWS

There are manufactured bows (lame), and there are good bows. Yes, there’s a huge difference.

I’m not sure of the technical terms, but here’s my experience.

Manufactured bows, i.e., the cheap bows you find at a renaissance fair, are typically made from a type of plastic. Good traditional bows, from almost any country, are custom-made from wood that the bowyer (bow-maker) has shaped, treated, and glued.

Bows are a lot like musical instruments. Essentially, manufactured bows (or guitars, violins, etc.) are poor quality because they’re made of cheap materials which make the shooting quality less than superb (more on that later), and because they aren’t given the attention they need, which makes them of lesser quality because they’re just ... eh. Special treatment makes for a better bow.

Like musical instruments, there are a lot of different types. Most websites say there are only four (recurve, longbow, compound, and crossbow), but that’s not quite true. These acknowledge the four general shapes of a bow, but not the subtypes. For example, Mongolian bows are recurves, but tend to be shorter than Western recurves because Mongolian recurves are meant to be shot on horseback.

SHOOTING QUALITY 

So, what is it like shooting a good bow?

Again, I’m speaking from experience with recurves, longbows, and reflexes.

A good bow has good speed. It moves the arrow faster than slower. This is a relative scale because recurves shoot arrows faster than longbows, and reflex/deflex tend to shoot faster than longbows but slower than recurves.

WEIGHT

Is it possible for people to have pulled 100 pounds of weight in a bow back in the olden days, or are people just confused?

Yes, it’s possible.

My dad, who used to do archery once or twice a week, had a 100 pound bow that he shot fairly regularly. That was before his shoulder injuries and, y’know, age. 

Also note that he’s practically a Viking.

I pulled 50 pounds at 28 inches when I was doing it regularly, although now I probably have to go back to 45 pounds.

BASIC SHOOTING FORM

This is going to be heavily effected by your character’s culture, bow, and upbringing.

There’s the English, upright stance for shooting a longbow. The archer stands very straight, and their pull hand goes to anywhere between the lip and the ear.

There’s the forest stance, which is my own, and that’s slightly bent over to avoid string-slaps, finger to cheekbone. Also, I made up the forest stance, so don’t Google it.

Then there’s Walt Wilhem, who, due to physical disability, had to shoot from the hip and was still one of the best archers in the world. Watch the video of him and his brother:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8u69YfSA8

THE ROBIN HOOD SHOT

This is actually very attainable. I’ve done it six times. My dad has done it about 30 times. I have a friend who did it about 25 times.

In order for this situation to realistically happen (if you’re writing something unrealistic, you really shouldn’t bother reading all of this), the character needs to prep a few things.

1. Years of experience. At least six, and that’s assuming your archer shoots at least seven hours a week, without missing an hour.

 2. At six years the archer might get a few Robin Hood shots. Very likely, it’ll be at a shorter distance and the arrow they’re shooting will be cross-wise instead of straight down the shaft.

3. At ten years, it’s quite likely your Robin Hood has shot straight down the shaft a few times.

4. Your Robin Hood must seek to improve every week.

SOME QUICK TIPS

unless you’re Walt Wilhem, you always pull from your back, not your arm

you never fire an arrow

back quivers are quieter and more mobile than hip quivers (suck it hipsters)

it takes practice and long fingers, but it’s quite doable to hold both a bow and an arrow in one hand while shooting

there is a system for very fast nocking 

beginners have no clue what this system is and so take several minutes to nock their arrow.

contrast, it takes a second for an experienced archer.

someone who doesn’t take long to aim is often called a snap shooter, and this isn’t exactly complimentary.

This ought to take you far in your journey of writing an archer. I’ve been sitting on this post for about a year now, but still need to add to it. PLEASE google the following in case I don’t get to sharing the info.

arrow breakage

bow breaking

materials for arrows

types of wood for bows

types of wood for arrows

arrow spine weight

bow tuning

bow shelfs

different forms

holding a bow

stringing a bow

bow at rest

temperatures + bows

fletching types

aerodynamics 

quivers

moving around

how to find the goddamn arrows

[richincolor]

SomeThoughts about Netflix's Shadow & Bone

This past Friday, the highly anticipated Shadow and Bone series premiered on Netflix and fans of the Grishaverse all over the world logged in to watch their favs come to life. There was much discussion of the inclusion of numerous characters from throughout the Grishaverse and that diversity was a focus in the casting of the show, especially Jessie Mei Li who is biracial, therefore changing the main character’s ethnicity to biracial Shu Han. Unfortunately, that decision didn’t pay off to well due to the showrunner’s handling of Alina’s ethnicity. Twitter blew up as people shared their hurt and warned others about what to expect.

I had planned to watch the show and happened to see one such warning before I watched the series so I was prepared. I watched a couple of episodes, then called it a night. The next morning I was unsettled and reached out to my fellow contributors here on Rich in Color. No one had seen it yet, but Jessica said she was planning to as well. As we chatted, I felt that our conversation should be shared with our readers, so Jessica and I decided to write our thoughts down and have a conversation after she watched a few episodes herself.

Oh, and spoilers abound!

First off, before we dive into this conversation: Have you read the Grishaverse series? How much did you know about the story going in?

K. Imani: As everyone knows I love fantasy so I’m open to reading all sorts of fantasy books. I read the Shadow & Bone series a few years ago and enjoyed it. When the Six of Crows duology came out I read those too and actually enjoyed those better than the original series. Why - more diversity? It also expanded the world and the different perspectives of “Grisha” like folk from other cultures. It was very clear from the writing that Bardugo realized her first series was very lacking in diversity and worked hard to change it. I actually re-read both series during quarantine, so I had a fair idea of what the Netflix series would be about.

Jessica: I’ve actually never read a single Grishaverse book! I know, shocking. I only knew two things about the series going into the show: 1) Six of Crows is a heist book? 2) Ben Barnes is a person who exists.

The cast announcement for any show is always so exciting, and Shadow and Bone was no different. How did you feel about the casting -- before and after you watched the show? What did you think was done well, and what did you think could be improved?

K. Imani: Before watching the show I was actually a bit confused about some of the casting choices. I didn’t understand why 3 of the main Six of Crows characters were in the show and I honestly did not make the connection to Alina and Mal being biracial. Knowing that the Grishaverse is “Russian-based” and knowing that some ethnic Mongolians are considered Russian I just found it cool that the show cast a person who didn’t fit a Russian stereotype. Oh boy was I way off! Overall I was pleased with the casting and think all the actors did a great job. I liked the few changes they did make with casting actors of colors for other roles to round out the diversity of the world.

Bringing it back to Mal, I was confused as to if he was supposed to be coded as biracial. I missed the reference in the show, but I did read somewhere that he was supposed to be as well and that is what bonded him to Alina. If that’s the case, then how come Alina was the only person to experience racism? That thought continues to sit on my heart because it shows that the writers did not really think through how they wanted to express racism and included it for the wrong reasons.

Jessica: My reaction was basically, “I’m happy that other people seem happy!” since again, I had no context for the show. Casting on Netflix shows often seems to be a case of “cool, this is some exciting casting… but definitely could be better and even more intentional.”

K. Imani: “More intentional” That is the word right there! Making a story more diverse is wonderful and fully reflects the world we live in, however if you just randomly do it without thinking it through it comes off as insensitive. I know Leigh Bardugo used this show as an opportunity to make her story better (and I do not begrudge her of that fact) but when one doesn’t think it through, the criticism that is being expressed is a direct result.

Jessica: Sidenote -- I ended up watching a booktube video titled “Darker Jesper, Fat Nina, Shadow and Bone Casting Thoughts” on booktube channel Chronicles of Noria about the casting. Highly recommend checking it out. I also recommend this profile on Jessie Mei Li, who talks about being gender nonconforming.

Did any changes in the Netflix adaptation stick out to you? Were there changes you liked or disliked?

K. Imani: My favorite part of the adaptation is how well the show runners included the Six of Crows characters into the narrative. The storyline completely worked for me and connected the two stories together. I really enjoyed the Arken storyline (and the character tbh) as it was used to flesh out the world of the Grishaverse, which made the series much more interesting. I also liked the change of making Ivan and Fedyor a couple instead of just Darkling’s henchmen as it humanized them and actually made me like Ivan because they were so cute together. Though how that will come into play after the events of Episode 8 will be interesting. I’m a sucker for the Enemies to Lover trope so I loved that Nina’s & Matthia’s story of how they came together was included here. In either Six of Crows or Crooked Kingdom (I don’t remember), it was told as a flashback, but I loved that it was moved here as their “origin story”, so to speak, and how it connects to the events of the Alina timeline.

What I didn’t like...the casual racism. It really bothered me and left me sad the next morning. For example, a certain poster shown in the first episode had me physically cringe and I was upset that 1)  the production designers even created it and 2) no one, at no point, said that was a bad idea? Come on! It was horrible to see and I can imagine the hurt an AAPI would experience seeing that. And then, it got worse. Racial slurs thrown around a couple of times in the first couple of episodes to show that Alina is an outsider. They were jarring and took me out of the narrative. Having read the books I knew there was tension between the Ravkans and Shu Han, so I could understand what the show runners were trying to do, but it was actually never explained in show, hence making the racism feel random and just there for shock value.

Jessica: I saw tweets going around alluding to the racism Alina (and other characters to a less frequent extent) faced, so I braced myself for it. I’m only a few episodes in, and the instances so far were brief… but it just didn’t feel right. The foundation for this portrayal of racism wasn’t laid properly. And if the work of laying the foundation and really digging into what it means for the overall worldbuilding doesn’t happen… then why include it at all? Especially if it might be painful for certain viewers? I’m sure harm wasn’t the intent, but that’s the impact. Why not leave it out and let the show be escapism?

K. Imani: Jessica, the eyes comment took me out, not gonna lie. I audibly screamed. Anyone who has experienced a racist comment based on their looks felt that in their gut which is horrible when watching a show for escapism.

Jessica: Yeah, the eyes and rice-eater comments were especially frustrating. On top of it being a reminder of the racism Asians experience daily… it doesn’t make much sense. Like, canonically, do people in Ravka not eat rice? An American’s conception of racism isn’t necessarily going to make sense in a (Imperial Russia-inspired) fantasy world. But maybe I’m missing something since I didn’t read the original books.

And the eyes comment… whoof. When I was a kid, other kids would make fun of my eyes and ask me to, like, count seagulls because surely, I couldn’t see out of my eyes… And the other kids were also Asian! Internalized racism is so real. It’s disappointing that Shadow and Bone would include this experience as, I don’t know, discrimination flavor text. Surely there were better ways to portray discrimination that made sense within the Grishaverse…

Ellen Oh really said it so well: “If a writer is going to show racism against Asians, it's important to balance it with the beauty of all that makes us Asian also.” Where is the balance? Where is the nuance? Even if Alina’s Shu Han mother isn’t alive, couldn’t Alina have had a treasured Shu Han pendant? Just spitballing here. There were so many possibilities.

K. Imani: Exactly. I agree with Ellen and unfortunately there is no balance. That’s what makes it so hurtful. The focus is on how bad it is that she’s biracial and how bad the Shu Hans are for no specific reason. Because Alina is an orphan and grew up in Ravka, she unfortunately has no connection to Shu Han culture (or at least what is shown on screen) so all that she identifies as is Ravkan who just happens to look like a Shu Han person, but she doesn’t exhibit any pride in being Shu Han. Her ethnicity is just another obstacle to overcome which is all the more cringeworthy and why having Alina be biracial just to be biracial without thinking it through ended up being so problematic. Having her be biracial and using casual racism as an “obstacle” that she has to overcome is such a shallow interpretation of racism and shows the writers didn’t do the work to really think about the why the racism exists.

In addition to talking about what was done well and what went wrong or felt off about certain representation, it’s important to look at the “how.” How did this happen?

Jessica: I read on Twitter that one of the show writers is Korean and biracial -- which is awesome! I was really heartened to hear that. But at the same time, this highlights how important it is to have multiple marginalized voices in the room who can speak with some level of expertise. I don’t know the decision-making process that went into including this sort of surface-level, simplistic version of real world racism, but I wonder if anyone, at any point, said “is there a more nuanced and original way to portray this?” or “how will this affect Asian viewers?” Did someone bring it up, and they were overruled? What happened?

This absolutely isn’t a judgment on the Asian writers or staff on the show. When I’ve done collaborative writing, there were times I caught an issue and said “we need to be more sensitive about this” -- and there were other times when my teammates pointed out something I didn’t notice. It happens! That’s why it’s so important to have multiple marginalized perspectives when creating something -- especially when it’s a work as impactful and far-reaching as a Netflix show. Placing the burden of complex, nuanced representation on one, or a scant handful, of marginalized creators is just not going to work… and it’s not fair to the creators, either.

Frankly, this is a problem in so many industries -- film, publishing, games... there are so many “diverse” shows, games, etc with all-white or majority white teams. Good, nuanced representation can only happen when BIPOC / marginalized creators are the majority and have power behind-the-scenes. (This is why I’m really excited to watch the show Rutherford Falls -- half the writers room are Indigenous writers, as is the co-creator!)

K. Imani: Exactly! It’s great that one of the writers is biracial and Korean, but if she’s the only one how much input did she really have? I’m by no means knocking her experience but, say for example, that particular poster in the first episode. No one else behind the scenes found it problematic? There are many steps to a production process and that poster, if there had been more diverse voices present on the production staff instead of just 1 writer, would have been flagged as a huge problem and redone. The poster was supposed to be a “short cut” to show Ravkan/Shu Han tension but instead it came off as so profoundly racist and unnecessary. There are many other non-racist ways to explore the tensions between the two countries that could have been explored instead of just jumping to racism. And...as someone on Twitter pointed out, we never see the tension between the Ravkans and the Shu Han, but we openly see fighting between the Ravkans and the Fjierdans, so why were they not vilified to the same extent?

Jessica: Right. I’m definitely not saying racism can’t be portrayed in fantasy ever. But if you’re going to do it, make it make sense within the world. Don’t just use it as shorthand for “this character is Other.” I mean, experiencing racism isn’t what makes me Asian…

K. Imani: Boom! I’m going to repeat that for the people in the back...experiencing racism is not what makes a person Asian or Black, and if you are going to have racism in a work of art, be sure to provide balance to show all the other aspects of a person of color’s life.

Since we’re talking creators behind-the-scenes… which YA fantasy books by Asian authors do you think would make great Netflix shows or movies?

Jessica: I’ve got a list about a mile long, but I’ve cut it down to my top four:

These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

Forest of a Thousand Lanterns by Julie C. Dao

The Tiger at Midnight by Swati Teerdhala

The Epic Crush of Genie Lo by F.C. Yee

You’re welcome, Netflix execs who are totally reading this blog. Hop to it!

K. Imani: I second the Tiger at Midnight series! I loved the first two books and can’t wait for the conclusion in June. While not YA, the City of Brass series would make an excellent Netflix series. Anything Maurene Goo writes would be fun rom-coms (because we need those too!).

Jessica: I mean, with To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before complete… Netflix clearly needs to start adapting Maurene Goo’s books.

K. Imani: Yes, the people demand it! I don’t care which book, just grab one of them and get the production started.

On a final note, I do want to say that despite the criticism the show rightly deserves, there was much about the show that was enjoyable. The storytelling was strong and moved at a good pace, the costuming was on point, special effects worked seamlessly into the narrative, and even small touches such as how the Grishas used their small science was visually interesting. Book adaptations are always hard to pull off well and the Shadow and Bone production team did a good job overall. Their intention towards adding more diversity is a step in the right direction, but just didn’t do enough. Let’s hope they learn from their mistakes and improve for season 2.

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. What is your favorite shade of blue? Pastel blue, teal, Tiffany blue, baby blue, powder blue, sky blue, turquoise. 2. When's the last time you bought something just because? I bought some room sprays and hand sanitizers from this place that makes Disneyland/World scented things because I was missing Disney and wanted to bring some of it to my house. 3. What Ozzy lyric describes you best? I only know Crazy Train and I mean, I do feel like I’m on a crazy train. 4. When was the last time you went for a walk without a specific destination in mind? I don’t do that. 5. Do you daydream? Yeah. My mind wanders and I zone out a lot.

6. What was your last daydream about? Random stuff. 7. Ever won the lottery? No, I wish. 8. How much did you get for your high school graduation? I think around $300 and my parents my threw me a nice graduation party. 9. What was the most important decision you made that screwed up your life the most? Not taking care of/putting off some things and neglecting myself.  10. Do you know what your Chinese horoscope is? Nope. 11. What is love really about? Encouragement, support, growth. 12. What's the most you ever made in a year? I’ve never had a job. 13. Do you have an online diary? You’re lookin’ at it. 14. What's the biggest pot you've won in poker? I’ve never played poker. 15. What's your most prized possession? I love all my things. 16. What Metallica lyric most describes your life? I don’t listen to Metallica. 17. Ever been to Ozzfest? No. I take it you’re an Ozzy fan. 18. How many concerts have you been to? I think I’ve been to 7. 19. Which one was your favorite? All of them were fun, but the Jonas Brothers concerts and the Green Day concert were my favorites. 20. What shade of purple most describes your feelings right now? I don’t know. 21. Pick a shade of a color. Now describe it to me and name it. Nah. 22. Sun tea or brewed tea? My mom used to make sun tea during the summers growing up, which I liked. I haven’t had that since then. Nowadays I just throw a tea bag in a cup of hot water and let it steep for a few minutes.  23. What's the most illegal thing you've done? I haven’t done anything serious. 24. Ever get busted by the cops? What for? No. 25. What's under your bed? Nothing. 26. Vacuum or dustbuster? Vacuum. 27. How many people are on your buddy list? Aw, the days of AIM. 28. How many pairs of rollerblades do/did you own? I’ve never owned a pair of rollerblades. 29. Ever wear out a CD? What was it? No. 30. What's your favorite card game? I like card games like Uno, Apples to Apples, and Cards Against Humanity. 31. Who was the most annoying person you've talked to on the phone? I’m not a fan of talking on the phone in general. 32. What's your favorite fast food meal? Wingstop’s boneless garlic parm and lemon pepper wings with their ranch and a a side of lemon pepper sauce. 33. Where is the best restaurant you've ever eaten in at? This Mongolian BBQ place was my favorite back when I could eat spicy food. 34. Lamb chops or pork chops? Neither. 35. How many roses have you received/given? I’ve never received or given roses. 36. When's the last time you mowed the lawn? Never. 37. Washed your car? I’ve never had a car since I don’t drive. I have participated in several car wash fundraising events for Girl Scouts and the psych club I was in in community college, though. 38. Ever have a tornado in your town? No, thankfully we don’t get tornadoes. --- 40. What state is your wardrobe in? Uh, it’s fine?  41. What's the last article of clothing you bought? A cute Valentine’s Day themed Baby Yoda shirt from Boxlunch. 42. How many trash cans can you see right now? One. 43. If you HAD to pick ONE song to listen to for the rest of your life, and that would be the only song you ever heard, what would it be? Ah, I don’t know. 44. Ever heard of Shinedown? Yeah. 45. They rock, don't they? I only know one of their songs and I don’t really care for it much. 46. What size is your bed? It’s a full. 47. When's the last time you had pigs in a blanket? I have no idea. It’s been several years. I don’t particularly care for those. 48. Have you ever painted the ceilings in your home? No. We haven’t painted anywhere in this house. 49. What does your lawn furniture consist of? We just have a bench in the backyard. 50. Ever live off of canned soup and ramen noodles for weeks at a time? I do have my nightly bowl of ramen, but it’s not the only thing I eat. 51. What flavor of jelly are you? *shrug* 52. Ever take any of those online personality quizzes? I’ve taken several. 53. What musical group/artist do you love, but hide from other people? I don’t hide any of the musical artists or bands that I’m into. 54. What's on the floor in your bedroom? Nothing. 55. What is the first meal you remember eating? Pfft, I have no idea. 56. Ever been to a drive in? Yeah, a few times. I wish those would make a big comeback. 57. What was the first movie you ever saw? I don’t remember. 56. What's in your keepsake box/scrapbook? I don’t have like a designated box and I don’t have a scrapbook, but I’ve kept a lot of things throughout my life and a ton of photos all stored away in various places.  57. Describe your first date. It was dinner and a movie. 58. Would you recognize most of your classmates 5 years after graduation? Not from my college graduations. 59. What percentile of your class were you in? I have no idea. 60. When was the last time it rained while the sun was shining? I don’t recall. 61. What did you score on your SATs? I never took the SATs. 62. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? It’s been several years. 63. Name your favorite artist/song from before 1990. I have many favorites. 64. Do you think there should be new genres of music to encompass some of the newer rock performers out now? I don’t know, man. 65. What colors is your lava lamp? I don’t have a lava lamp. I did have one as a kid, though. I think it was blue. 66. What's the strangest thing you've ever hung on the wall? I haven’t hung up anything strange. 67. When's the last time you did laundry? My laundry was done a few days ago. 68. How many hammers do you own? I don’t personally have any hammers, but my dad does. I could use one of his if I needed to. 69. Can you name every place you've ever had sex? Yeah, nowhere.  70. How many speakers are in your bedroom? My laptop, TV, iPhone, and my Nintendo Switch.  71. DVD or VHS? I just watch movies through a streaming service. 72. What's the most important thing you ever lost and never found again? Myself? Lost her a few years ago...still haven’t found her. 73. What forms of birth control have you used? Abstinence (I’m a virgin). 74. How many webpages have you created, and can you still find them all? I’ve made a few back in the day, but no I don’t remember any of them. 75. You have .30 in two coins. One of them is not a nickel. What are they? One of them is not a nickel, but the other one is.  76. What's your pet peeve when cleaning the house? I don’t enjoy cleaning in general. 77. Do you use sponges or dishcloths when doing the dishes? We use a dish washing brush. 78. How many people are in your family portrait? Four. 79. How many times have you moved? A few, but only once that I’m old enough to remember. 80. Handcuffs or rope :D? Neither. 81. What season best describes your temperament? Whatever one best goes along with irritability and moodiness. 82. What's the last thing you had to drink? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink. 83. Ever been so drunk you blacked out? No, but parts of my memory from one night when I got too drunk are spotty. 84. What's your favorite song on the top twenty right now? I don’t even know what the top 20 is right now. I haven’t been listening to music.  85. What do your light fixtures look like? I have a ceiling lamp and a floor lamp. 86. How many jobs have you held for more than a month? I haven’t had a job. 87. Ever punched a wall? No. 88. When's the last time you really lost your temper? It’s been a long time. 89. How do you cope? Good question. 90. What's your antidrug? My go-to distractions ASMR, watching YouTube videos, scrolling through Tumblr, checking my social medias, doing surveys, reading, watching TV, coloring, sleeping... 91. Ever grown any plants before? What were they? Nope. 92. Ever own a director chair? No. 93. When was the last time you camped out? Never. I have no interest in camping. 94. Went swimming? It’s been like 7 years now since I last went swimming. 95. Went fishing? I’ve only done it once and very briefly. 96. Oust or Glade and why? Glade.  97. Ever thought you (or a girlfriend) were pregnant, but it was a false alarm? Nope. 98. If 97 is yes, were you glad or sad? -- 99. Do you have a red-eye mouse or one with a ball? I don’t have a mouse, I use the trackpad on my laptop. 100. What do your doorstops look like? Uhh those springy ones. I don’t know how else to describe it. The ones that make a lot of noise if you accidentally bump into it. 101. What was the last conversation you had with someone before they died? I was by my grandpa’s side when he died and I was just telling him how much I loved him, thanked him for everything, and comforted him; letting him know it was okay to go. 102. What do your drinking glasses look like? We have various glasses and mugs. 103. How many bottles/containers are in your medicine cabinet? We don’t have a medicine cabinet, but we have a medicine drawer full of various medications. 104. How many funerals have you been to? Three. 105. How many states have you been to? Five, including my own.

106. What was the last bug you killed and what did you use? A gnat. I just swatted it. 107. What does your country need right now? Unity. 108. Are you creative? I wish I was. I don’t have any creativity, artistic abilities, or good ideas. 109. How so? -- 110. How many computers in your household? Two. 111. Ever help to solve a crime? No. 112. Who is in the picture frame on your bedside table? I don’t have any photos on my bedside table. 113. How many CDs does your player hold? I don’t have a CD player. I haven’t had one in many years. 114. What is one thing you'd like to do before you die? Get my shit together and do something with my life. 115. Do the good die young or do they die before they have a chance to be bad? That seems to imply that everyone ends up bad. 116. What's your favorite totally cliche' saying? Blah. 117. Ever go out of your way to exact revenge on someone? No. I’m not a vengeful person. 118. Was it worth it? I don’t think it would ever be worth it.  119. Ever get pulled over by the cops and get away without a ticket? I don’t even drive, so no. 120. What's the weather like right now? It’s currently 50F. 121. What was your first legal alcoholic drink? Tequila shots. 122. Do you have a door/doorknob to your room? Yes. 123. Name one thing you regret? I have a few regrets. :/ 124. Ever get published by one of those poetry groups? No. I don’t even write poetry. 125. What's the furthest distance you've moved? Across town. 126. How many friends from high school/college do you still talk to? None anymore... 127. Where is your home/heart right now? Right here. 128. What's the most expensive things your parents ever bought you? Many things throughout my life and even still.  129. What's the most expensive thing you've bought? My first MacBook back in 2009.  130. How many hangers are in your closet? Uh, a lot. I’m not counting. 131. If you died right now, would you feel cheated or happy? I haven’t accomplished anything. :/ 132. How many times did you intentionally start to commit suicide? Zero. 133. Ever spent the night in the "loony bin?" Don’t call it that, first of all, and no. 134. What's wrong with society? Ignorance, close-mindedness, greed, hate, violence... 135. How many crazy ice cream trucks are in your area? Uh, I’ve never considered any of them to be crazy. Anyway, lately there’s been an ice cream truck coming through my neighborhood, which is is the first in many years. What a random time, though. 136. What is your favorite cover song? I love the cover of George Michael’s, Fast Love, that Adele performed at an award show after he died in honor of him. I always describe it as hauntingly beautiful. It was just so good. I wish she would have released a studio version of it. 137. Does the weather ever seem to reflect your mood eerily? I’m always moody, so when it’s rainy and gloomy it does. 138. Are you more psychic than most people? I don’t believe in psychic abilities.  139. What's your inspiration? I don’t know. :/ 140. What's the longest relationship you've been in? Whatever it was Joseph and I had lasted 3 years, which is longer than technically the only relationship I had that lasted just a few months. What I had with Joseph felt more like one as well in a lot of ways. 141. Did you ever drop out of school? No. 142. Ever raise a child that wasn't your own for more than 3 months? No. 143. What is your favorite piece of jewelry? Probably the stuff I have with birthstone.  144. Ever help someone cheat on someone else? Absolutely not. 145. Are you a cheater too? No. 146. What was the last dessert type food you've eaten? I had some mini funfetti muffins yesterday. 147. Fill in the blank: I'm a ________aholic. Coffeeholic. 148. When's the last time you went to a hairdresser/salon? Last February. I’ve over a year due now.  149. Strangest medical procedure ever performed on you? I had to wear this thing called a halo, which is a weird thing that gets drilled into the front of your head (I have two tiny circular scars above each eyebrow from that) and on the back are some weights attached to it that hang down. It was put on after my spinal fusion surgery and is meant to keep your back straight and things in place. It was awful. And heavy. When it was removed I had to wear a neck brace for a bit because my neck was weak. 150. Do you own any appliances? Yeah, we have several appliances. 151. Do you have an "egg crate" on your bed? Yes. 153. Last time you went to the laundromat? I remember tagging along as a kid with my grandma before. 154. How many hinges are on your front door? I’m not sure. 155. Can I be done yet? Yeah, I think you’re good.  

[corevis]

Was tagged here by @yverocher. Thanks!

Name: Julien, Jules for short

Height: 1,82 m

Wearing: Jeans, a black shirt, a burgundy flannel shirt over that and a wool-lined aviator jacket

Introvert or Extrovert: Introvert, may be turning to extrovert if suitably hammered

Siblings: One sister

Following: 200

Followers: 49 (Out of which I’m sure over half are porn bots)

Degrees: One B.A. in History, one B.A. in Polisci, currently working my way to a master in Middle Eastern History

Instruments: Used to play the piano, though I’ve mostly given up by now.

Favorite author: J.R.R. Tolkien. I can’t remember any other author making me this invested in a fictional universe, fictional characters and giving me such emotion when reading through these books.

Favorite Star Wars: I’m not a massive Star Wars fan, but I’m going to be completely unoriginal and say Empire Strikes Back.

Last Google search: “Charlemagne crown” - was looking for an image of the Reichskrone to make a meme out of it.

Recommend a video game: Either Rimworld or Crusader Kings 2. Both have a very steep learning curve, but they’re really fun games with amazing replayability potential, and you’ll quickly be rethinking how much your morals are really worth to you if it’s to keep your colony alive or your dynasty on the throne.

Recommend a music album: Kinda cheating there but I’ll recommend two: The Gereg by Mongol folk metal group The HU. It’s sung entirely in Mongolian and played mostly on traditional Mongol instruments, blending modernity and tradition together really well. Second album I’d like to recommend is entirely unlike the previous one, being The Closest Thing to Home by Ira Wolf. It’s indie folk, but these songs really spoke to me, especially Pictures on a Wall.

Recommend a book: Hard choice here, plenty of good books to recommend. Ultimately, I’d go with The Count of Monte-Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, which explores the tragic consequences of one man’s quest for revenge throughout a good chunk of western Europe.

Recommend a recipe: I’d go with Apfelstrudel for cake (with cream, of course) and either Spätzle with cream and lard and egg or Schweinshaxe with Münster cheese for salted stuff. Strasbourg’s ruined my taste in food.

Share a creative thought that you had today: Decided to actually cook my scrambled egg in the bacon’s fat. Which isn’t actually something original, but it’s the first time I actually thought about it.

Tagging whoever wants to go through this meme.

[yellowmechanicalcat]

fic: the boy and the bird (AU, plance + gen, part 3)

so when I said fingers crossed for daily updates I apparently meant that I will work on it daily until the next chapter is ready to update. (whoops?) a quick word of warning: things are getting spookier in this chapter! as some of you may have already notice, this isn’t an exact adaptation of OtGW, I’m cherrypicking elements as I go. please watch the original if you haven’t!

the boy and the bird Over the Garden Wall AU. At the Harvest Festival, Pidge and Lance get closer; Hunk is asked to dance. (Slight Pidge/Lance; 3,520 words.)

Part 3/7 (previous)

Pidge had been right about the festival looking like fun. The small town was decorated with garlands of autumn leaves and twisted crepe paper, brightly painted pumpkins and buckets of chrysanthemums lining the dirt streets. A cloth banner was strung between the houses, large painted letters welcoming them to the Harvest Festival.

They followed the sound of folk music to the center of town, where a crowd of people had already gathered while a band played. Everyone was wearing old-timey outfits with carved pumpkins on their heads. Some of the men were wearing suits like the man they’d seen in the cornfield had been, while others were dressed like farmers in overalls, plaid shirts and work gloves. Some of the women wore silk evening gowns, their hands and arms covered by long white gloves, but the rest looked more like pioneer women in calico aprons with plain cotton gloves.

Lance’s foot was already tapping along to the music. “Man, I love festivals!” he said enthusiastically. “I bet there’ll be line dancing later-”

“-and food,” Hunk said wistfully. “Pies and cider-”

“-and games and maybe a costume contest-”

“-caramel apples and sandwiches-”

“You two have very different priorities,” Pidge noted dryly, startling Lance. He’d forgotten about the pigeon.

“Jeez, Pidge, that was right in my ear,” he whined.

Pidge sniffed but tried to shift away before speaking in a slightly lower voice. “Look, it’s not like there’s a lot of room in here, okay?”

When they’d first decided to investigate the town of New Beginnings, it had seemed like a good idea to blend in as much as they could. As Lance had pointed out, the best case scenario was that they would look like everyone else, while at worst they’d look exactly like the couple they’d seen earlier and at least they wouldn’t be the only weirdos there. So they’d stolen the jack o’ lantern heads from the scarecrows in the cornfield, as well as the scarecrows’ gloves.

The plan got more complicated when Pidge had decided to tag along, because after a few pointed questions from Hunk the pigeon had admitted that talking birds were unusual even in this weird-spooky-woods part of the world and that it didn’t really want to attract any attention to itself. That had left them with no choice but to include Pidge in their disguise, although they’d quickly figured out that Pidge would have to share Lance’s pumpkin, since Hunk’s was already a tight fit.

Pidge pressed a little closer to Lance’s neck, feet digging into his shoulder. The bird was trembling slightly. The feathers brushing against his neck were surprisingly soft, although they kind of tickled.

“You doing okay?” Lance asked quietly.

“I’m not a big fan of small spaces,” the pigeon mumbled.

“You must have been really excited to leave the nest, then, huh?” Lance teased, grinning.

Pidge made a stifled noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The music ended, the band promising to return after a quick break. The crowds began to disperse, finally clearing the way for them to get a good look at the rest of the town square. Just as Lance predicted, they had booths set up for a few simple games, like a ring toss and, bizarrely, bobbing for apples. Plain wooden tables lined the perimeter, places set with plates but no utensils, and people were already starting to claim their seats on the wooden benches.

But it was the long table loaded with platters of food and cornucopias stuffed with vegetables and fruits that interested them the most. They beelined towards it.

“Look at all the food!” Hunk said eagerly. His stomach growled loudly, echoing his appreciation.

Lance leaned in so he and Pidge could both get a closer look at a heaping pile of corn on the cob. The kernels were pale and the ears were still largely covered with silk.

“Is it just me, or does everything look kind of raw?” Lance said doubtfully.

“Maybe it’s like Mongolian barbecue?” Hunk suggested. “You know, you collect what you want to eat and then they cook it for you later on?”

“But there’s no fire. If they were planning on cooking anything, they’d have built one by now, and I don’t smell anything,” Pidge pointed out.

Hunk and Lance sniffed the air, but all they could smell was the damp pumpkin odor from their jack o’ lanterns. Their investigation was interrupted by one of the pioneer-like women in a long plaid dress shooing them away from the table.

“The feast isn’t ’til later! Run along and wait your turn like everyone else,” she scolded, her voice a jarring contrast with the wide, happy smile carved into her jack o’ lantern face.

They mumbled apologies and moved away, although Hunk couldn’t help casting one last lingering glance at the food.

“I think that cat’s staring at us,” Lance said suddenly. He pointed over towards one of the houses on the square.

But Hunk didn’t see any cat. Neither did Pidge.

“There it is again!” Lance said, pointing a few feet away from the first house. This time, Hunk almost caught a glimpse of something black, although he wasn’t completely sure whether it was a cat or just a shadow. Pidge still couldn’t see anything.

“Let’s go find it!” Lance said excitedly.

“Let’s not,” said Pidge with considerably less excitement.

“Sorry, but I’m with Pidge. What’s so great about cats, anyway?” Hunk said. “Dogs are cooler. They can fetch.”

Lance gestured expansively to the rest of the square. “Look, it’s find the cat or join the line for ring toss until the music starts back up, and honestly? I’d rather go pet a cat. Besides, any cat would have to go through me to get to you, Pidge, so you’re safe.”

Pidge gripped Lance’s shoulder a little more tightly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Hunk could tell when he’d lost. He sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

They headed off in the direction Lance thought he’d last seen the cat and ended up in a side street, where a low groan made them stop in their tracks.

A man was sprawled out behind one of the houses, flat on the ground. A carved walking stick had rolled a few feet away from him. He must have tripped and hit his head when he fell down, since the pumpkin he wore had a deep crack running through it.

Hunk and Lance each took one of his arms and slowly helped him to sit up.

“Are you okay?” Lance asked, crouched next to him.

“I’m fine, thank you kindly,” the man said in a smooth, slow drawl. He reached up to check his disguise, sighing mournfully as he ran his fingers across the crack. “This is liable to break apart any moment, though, and I’ve no time to find another…”

“I can probably fix that!” Hunk offered. He shrugged off his backpack and rummaged around inside until he came up with a roll of duct tape. He tore off a few pieces and covered the crack just as carefully as if he’d been sewing stitches. “There we go. It’s just a patch job, but it should hold for a while.”

With Lance and Hunk’s help, the man stood back up, leaning on Hunk while Lance fetched his walking stick.

The man reached up and felt Hunk’s repair job. “I don’t know what you did but it certainly feels much better. You’re a very resourceful young man.”

Flustered, Hunk reached up to scratch the back of his head, but ended up beaning himself when he forgot about his own pumpkin disguise. “Well, any engineer worth his salt should have duct tape on hand. That’s what my dad always says, anyway.”

“What’s duck tape?” Pidge muttered, Lance shushing in response.

The man was distracted and didn’t seem to have noticed. He was looking down at his shirt, making a puzzled humming noise as he patted down his suit jacket and checked his pockets.

“…I seem to have dropped my badge,” he said finally.

Lance turned and spotted a small piece of cloth on the ground, half-covered by some stray leaves. It looked like something was written on it. He picked it up, brushing off the leaves and dirt before handing it up to the man.

“Is this it?”

“My, you’ve a good eye,” the man said appreciatively. He pinned it back on his jacket lapel, the badge now clearly reading ‘MAYOR’ in shiny gold lettering.

“One kindness deserves another,” said the mayor. “I believe I owe you a favor.”

“Don’t–” Lance started to say, but Pidge cut him off with a swift peck to the back of his head.

“Thank you,” the pigeon said, speaking loudly to mask Lance’s whimper. “We’ll remember, sir.”

“You do that,” said the mayor. For a moment, it almost looked like his jack o’ lantern eyes glinted yellow. “Enjoy the rest of the festival.”

He nodded graciously at each of them and wandered off in the direction of the square, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

“Why’d you say that?” Lance complained to Pidge, trying unsuccessfully to reach through the jack o’ lantern mouth to rub the sore spot Pidge had left. Pidge nudged his hand away with another sharp peck of its beak.

“If someone owes you a favor, that’s valuable. You don’t just let that go,” Pidge scolded.

“Yeah, but we didn’t help him so we could get something out of it! That’s not how being nice works.”

Hunk bumped shoulders with Lance. “Stop arguing with yourself, people are staring,” he whispered.

They were definitely getting a few odd looks from the handful of people who walked by on their way back to the square. Lance perked up when he realized the music had started up again. This time, it looked like people were starting to pair off for dancing.

“Yes! That’s more like it,” Lance cheered, dragging a much more reluctant Hunk with him to go watch.

They squeezed through the crowd until they were at the front, ending up next to a tall, broad-shouldered couple. The man was dressed in a brown suit with a deep green bowtie, while the woman wore a cotton dress in the same green color as his tie, a patchwork apron tied around her waist.

They looked over as Lance enthusiastically clapped along to the lively music, which, as far as Hunk was concerned, was kind of embarrassing.

“Sorry about him,” he apologized to the tall woman. “First time here. He’s a little overexcited.”

She tilted her head, her hands flying up to her face as if surprised.

“That’s wonderful!” she said, sounding completely sincere. Her voice sounded younger than Hunk had expected from the way she was dressed. “Is it your first time to the Harvest Festival as well?”

Hunk nodded. “Yeah. I’m Hunk, and that’s Lance.”

“Welcome, Hunk and Lance!” the girl said. “I’m Shay, and this is my brother Rax.”

Rax just grunted, turning his attention back to the dancing just in time for one of the dancers to pull him into a circle, ignoring his loud protests.

Shay laughed at the sight. Lance whooped encouragingly, Pidge quietly scolding him for the unnecessary loud noise. It turned out that Rax, while reluctant, really wasn’t a bad dancer.

A little shyly, Shay touched Hunk’s arm. “Would you care to dance, Hunk?”

“Huh?” Hunk said, startled. “Oh, um, sure! Just a sec.”

He slipped off his backpack and held it out to Lance. “Do you mind?”

Lance shrugged and took the bag. “Sure.”

Shay took Hunk’s hand and led him away.

Being stuck inside a hollow pumpkin meant that Pidge had very little to do but stare at Lance’s face. So the pigeon couldn’t help but notice him sulking as Shay and Hunk danced together. Lance was twitchy, and Pidge could tell that he was disappointed he wasn’t dancing, too.

“Hey, Lance. I have an idea,” Pidge said quietly, trying not to startle him again.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t we hit up the food table while everyone’s distracted? It wouldn’t hurt to have a few leftovers for later, and it’s not like it’s going to spoil…”

“But what about that lady who yelled at us before? Isn’t she, like, guarding everything?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s going to be busy for a while,” Pidge said. “Looks like she’s a big fan of the band.”

The grumpy guard had indeed left her post to stand directly in front of the band’s fiddler, loudly cheering. Lance had always thought guitarists were cooler, but he could kind of see the appeal. The guy was a showy musician, managing to dance and play at the same time even in his crazy costume.

“… okay, you convinced me. Let’s do it.”

Pidge let out a soft coo of triumph.

By the time the dancing was over, Lance and Pidge had successfully stuffed Hunk’s backpack with enough food to last a long time, and Lance’s mood had improved significantly. Shay threw her arms around Hunk and hugged him tightly as the music ended, Hunk shyly hugging back before rejoining Lance.

“Have fun?” Lance asked.

“Actually, I did. Shay’s really nice. She was telling me how she and her brother have a farm or something? She invited us to sit with them at dinner. Anyway, thanks for holding my stuff, man.”

“No problem,” Lance said cheerfully, thrusting his bag back at him.

Hunk nearly dropped it, unprepared for it to have doubled in weight. “What the—”

“Pidge and I may have grabbed a few snacks for later, don’t worry about it,” Lance said, throwing an arm around his shoulder to guide him over to one of the long tables, where Shay was waving for them to come join her.

Plates of food were being carried from the center table and distributed to the tables across the square. They slid onto the the wooden bench to sit opposite Shay and Rax, Hunk’s chest protector giving him some trouble, but he managed to sit down in the end.

“Remind me why I’m wearing this again?” Hunk said under his breath.

“It’s part of your look,” said Lance.

Before Hunk could say anything else, the crowd broke into cheers. The mayor was making his way to the center of the square, still leaning heavily on his walking stick.

“Speech! Speech!” the crowd called out.

The mayor raised a hand in greeting. “It’s wonderful to see everyone again! It’s good to be back here, isn’t it?”

Cheers and applause.

“As you all know, the Harvest Festival started in the Old Times, when folks gathered together to celebrate another successful year of harvesting souls and feast on the best of them…”

Hunk froze. Beside him, Lance inhaled sharply. Pidge said nothing, but Lance could feel the bird shiver as it nervously pressed against his neck.

The mayor’s speech continued. “Of course, a few things have changed since those days.”

Scattered laughter.

“Today, the harvest of souls is symbolized by the bounty before you, and we gather together in remembrance of how delicious life can be. And with that, let’s feast!”

“Let’s feast!” the crowd roared back in approval.

All around them, people began to take off their gloves and burst into excited chatter, loading their plates with food. Hunk and Lance felt chills run down their spines as they watched everyone reach for and grab and prod at the food.

Their hands were nothing but bones. And with their gloves off, most of their sleeves were loose enough that it was obvious that their arms were bones, too. In fact, there was a pretty good chance that behind those jack o’ lantern grins were just skulls.

And no one seemed to care. They were all perfectly at ease with the idea of having dinner with someone who was part or maybe completely a skeleton.

Lance and Hunk had both come to the conclusion that it was safer to keep their gloved hands hidden under the table until they figured out what was going on.

Lance reached out and tapped Hunk’s knee. “I think we may have a small problem,” he whispered, Pidge still pressed against his neck.

“A small problem?” Hunk replied shrilly, forgetting to whisper in his panic.

Shay looked over at them, holding a tray of new potatoes in her literally skeletal hands. “What’s the problem?” she asked curiously.

Hunk shook his head and let out a strangled laugh. “I don’t know where to start–”

Sensibly, Shay put a potato on his plate, and another on Lance’s. The potatoes were freshly washed but very obviously raw. “Well, why not start with these? Rax and I harvested them ourselves.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s great, really great,” Hunk said, his voice choked, staring at her hands.

“You must’ve worked yourselves to the bone,” Lance said without thinking, then groaned quietly as he realized what he’d just said.

Luckily, Shay just giggled. “The Harvest Festival only happens once a year. It’s worth working hard for.”

“So remind me again what we’re doing here? The Mayor said something about, uh, eating souls?” Lance asked, trying to sound casual.

Shay’s brother snorted. “You really don’t know anything, do you, first-timer?”

“Rax, that’s rude!” Shay scolded him.

Rax just shrugged and turned his attention back to the food, ignoring her.

“Every living thing has quintessence, it doesn’t matter whether it’s animal or vegetable. So we get our quintessence from the food we gather each year,” Shay explained. She gestured to the rest of the table. “See? It’s simple!”

All around them, people were pretending to eat, holding vegetables and fruit up to their pumpkin-head mouths and inhaling deeply. But as they watched, they started to realize that it wasn’t just pretend. They could see something — was it quintessence? — come out of the food and be sucked into each carved mouth. Whatever it was faintly glowed with a pale blue light.

The more light was sucked from the food, the worse it looked. Apples turned brown and rotted, skin practically slipping off and leaving behind only the core. Squash melted into mush, carrots curled and wilted.

But the people’s skeletal hands were starting to look more substantial as the pale blue light extended from the food in their hands and wrapped around their bones. Later on, Hunk would describe it like watching a gelatin mold set, and Lance would argue it was more like a watching fruit slices freeze inside of ice cubes.

Shay inhaled her potato with gusto as it sprouted eyes and dripped moldy puddles onto her plate. “Mmm. Everything even smells better this year. The quintessence is a lot fresher than usual.”

Hunk shuddered. “I think I’m gonna barf,” he muttered queasily.

Lance looked over at him and noticed he was starting to glow with the same faint light they’d seen on the food. Horrified, he realized that it wasn’t just the food’s quintessence that was being sucked in, but theirs as well, tendrils of light beginning to rise from his own arms as his stomach started to churn.

Pidge made a shrill noise of alarm, right in Lance’s ear. “We can’t stay here! We’ll be drained, too!” the pigeon hissed.

Lance abruptly stood up and dragged Hunk with him, startling Shay and Rax. They looked up, half-absorbed food in their bony hands.

“Sorry, just gotta take Hunk for some air,” Lance said apologetically.

He stumbled over the bench as they climbed over, but Hunk managed to catch him before he wiped out (much to Pidge’s relief). Unfortunately, Hunk didn’t let go of his arm, clinging to him the same way he had earlier that morning. If this kept happening, Lance’s arm was going to be permanently black and blue.

“There might not be anything here when you get back,” Rax warned.

Shay, apparently fed up, elbowed her brother in the stomach, causing him to choke and cough out some quintessence. The corn in his hand suddenly reverted from wilted and brown to dry and brittle.

“Don’t listen to him. I’ll save you a plate!” Shay called, the concern audible in her voice.

Hunk could only manage a wheezing noise in reply.

“We’ll be back in a few!” Lance called in a voice that was much higher than normal, saluting as they backed away slowly until they’d turned the corner.

Once out of sight, they pulled the jack o’ lanterns from their heads, tossing them aside and gasping for air. As the pumpkins smashed on the ground, they froze and looked at each other with wide, frightened eyes, but behind them the Harvest Festival continued. No one seemed to have noticed. Their skin was back to normal, the eerie blue light of escaping quintessence no longer visible.

“Time to go?” Pidge suggested in a small voice, wings flapping nervously.

“Time to go,” Lance agreed.

Hunk heaved, decided he wasn’t actually going to throw up, then gave a shaky thumbs up.

They tossed their stolen gloves next to the pumpkins and took off running straight out the gate and down the road, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between themselves and New Beginnings.

To be continued.

[alliebruns-blog]

The Namibia/Panama Crossings Part one: Travelling Tales….

The day I am due to travel, I wake up mega anxious, stressed and slightly hungover. I can’t concentrate on anything, even though I know everything is done. I packed yesterday and my work stuff is covered. I am so anxious that I don't want to eat. I am packing and repacking stuff over and over again. Moving stuff around the flat for NO reason. I tell myself to go out and get a sandwich. I am packed, and the cab is not due for another 2 hours. I might even be able to squeeze in a pint with my pal Lucy. So out the door I go, patting my pocket with my keys in. Slam the door. Then the horror, as I realise the keys I have in my pocket are not my house keys at all. They are my OLD house keys. I rush round the back of the house and try and jimmy the window - no luck. I have left the house without anything but my phone and old keys. I can see all my packed bags sitting in the living room I have NO access too. I phone the landlord, but it’s a Sunday. I sit down. Think. I’m going to have to call a locksmith. So I do. And he charges me almost £300 to drill the lock off and replace it with a new one.  He turns up in twenty mins and I stand there watching him, biting my nails, looking at my watch. 

I didn’t want to ever meet this man. Locksmith ninja. 

He finishes, and I go for a very quick beer and small cry with Lucy before my cab arrives at 2pm. I’m really going now. I cannot believe that just happened. That was pretty horrible. But I dealt with it, right?! Surely that’s the hardest thing I will face? Right?

When I get to Heathrow, my fellow adventurers are there waiting. It’s Jim (Rat Race CEO and all round amazing human), his wife Dani (who I now have a massive girl crush on), Darren (you might remember him from Monglia) and me. Handsome Pete is doing the camera work, and he will join us later when we get to Namibia. I offload my Panama kit into their car - we will do a kit swap on our way back through Heathrow to Panama, which is great because I don't fancy slogging around with 3 massive bags. One massive bag will do for now. 

Jim and Dani are planning to do both the bike and run stage in Namibia - it’s down to myself and Darren to see if the route is do-able solely on foot. 

Bit of background for you. The Namib Desert is the oldest desert in the world - 55 million years old and 81,000 square kms. It is 2000km long and, crucially for us, 200km wide. I say crucial, because that is what we are trying to do. Cross the width of the desert, from east to west. On the west coast lies the wreck of the Eduard Bolen. This is where we will finish. Fun fact, the Namib desert is home to the biggest dunes on earth, and is one of the most hostile environments on the planet. Even worse than Reading town centre at about 7pm. It’s hot, dry and full of things that may well kill you, if you don't die of thirst or heatstroke first. We’re not dicking about here. This is serious stuff. The area we are running across is primarily National Park, but not in the way we think of National Park here in the UK. This route has NEVER been run before - it’s a world first. There are parts never touched by humans. Our men on the ground have had to get 3 different letters from the government to allow us to do this. National Parks in the UK have way marked trails and picnic benches and shops. There is nothing like that here. There are no marked trails, because the trails change and shift every day. We didn’t know it yet, but we weren’t going to see one other person apart from our team for the whole 5 days we were out there. 

The plan is to run across it over 4 days - 50km a day on foot for myself and Darren. Jim and Dani are going to attempt to ride the first two days on fat bikes, BUT they will be trying to cover 100km a day each in comparison to our paltry 50km. So they will start 100km behind myself and Darren and try and catch us up in time for the 3rd day. Let’s just remember that none of us have any experience on this terrain (Darren has done Sandy Jog Week AKA MDS but wotevs) and none of us know what the terrain will actually be like in order to prepare anyway. I am imagining it’s all dunes going downwards, soft fluffy white sand and then sometimes flat white lovely sand. Spoiler: It is not like that at all. 

After a traditional trip to Wetherspoons Terminal 5, we jump on the plane, change at Johannesburg and a few hour later, arrive in Windhoek, Namibia. On the flight to Windhoek, I have a huge Ghanian guy sat next to me, who, it becomes very clear, is terrified of flying. I have to hold his hand and talk him down. Literally. Talk to him all the way down until we land. He’s very grateful and I was really happy that I could help him. It felt like he was a personification of my own fears about, well, everything. This also means I have successfully managed to avoid almost all of the sleep on all of the planes. I am amazingly stupid and bad at sleeping. So after about 18 hours in transit, I feel FRESH AS FUCK. The excitement of meeting up with Handsome Pete, David Scott (our expedition leader and pal from the Mongolian adventure) and the rest of our team keeps me up and bouncing along, and, after a quick stop at the local supermarket for beer and supplies, we start the 4 hour car journey to Namibgrens Farm on the east side of the desert, where we will spend our first night. 

View from the car en route to Namibgrens Farm

Namibia is massive and it’s hard to get places. “I’ll sleep in the car” I think - but, because the roads are dirt tracks and the cars are basically 4x4 buggies on speed, the bouncing about all over the place means no snoozes for me. Plus, there’s so much to see out on the drive. We drive past Warthogs, Oryx’s and Ostriches just mooching about. Causal. I ask our driver a million questions about the history and geography of where we are going. Turns out Namibia was a german colony from 1884, with the administration taken over by the Union of South Africa (under the League of Nations) after WW1. It became independent in 1990, but the German influence is obvious in the place names and the organisation of the streets in the major towns. Of which there are two.  

But the town has gone now. We’re heading out to the wilderness. We have finally arrived at Namibgrens Farm, where we will spend the night, before starting on our run tomorrow. The farm is literally in the middle of nowhere (4.5 hours to the nearest shop) and we have a real bed each for the night. A rare treat. After we have got changed and had a shower, we are picked up by Johnny, who is part of the support team, in what looks like a cartoon desert truck. In hindsight, this truck has a lot to answer for. This truck is now known as The Fun Bus, mainly for ironic reasons. Here is the Fun Bus. Fuck the Fun Bus. 

Looks a lot cleaner than I remembered......

Ten mins down the road, the rest of the support team David, Danny and Hein have set up a Brai on the edge of the desert. There we sit and eat, and drink beer and gin and tonic in the dark, whilst being briefed on hydration, foot care and how not to die. Danny and Hein are local expedition experts, and know the desert back to front. Not only that, they can drive huge vehicles up 33% sand dunes. Not fun for either the driver or the passengers. We’re in good hands here. It’s magical and we are excited. We all get to bed for about 8pm. Tomorrow we start.

Dinner location on the first night

[upthenorthmountain]

Gonna Walk - Wednesday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

On Wednesday it rained.

Not quite as apocalyptically as on Monday, but in a more determined way, making it quite clear it could keep it up all day. The sound of the rain on the windowpanes was the first thing Kristoff heard when he woke up in the morning, and although he knew it was morning it was gloomy enough that he had to put on the light to find his clean clothes.

He’d got out of the bed carefully to avoid waking her, but when he put on the light Anna grumbled and pulled the covers over her head. Well, she was on holiday, he supposed she could sleep all day if she wanted.

It had been a year or two - he wasn’t going to calculate it - since he’d shared a bed with anybody. It had been strange waking up and finding her there. He was used to Anna always in motion; at school she was always going somewhere, doing something, talking to someone. In sleep she looked - smaller, somehow, more delicate. But just as beautiful.

-----

The house was pretty quiet all morning. By lunchtime more people were getting up, and after lunch it was board game time.

“We’re going to play Monopoly,” Anna told Kristoff cheerfully. “I’m the dog, what do you want to be?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Oh come on, you have to play! Everyone’s playing.”

“Everyone? It’ll take all afternoon.”

“Yes. Come on, pick one.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. What else are you going to do? It’s still raining.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. The hat, then.”

This thing was, that Anna’s family were genuinely nice people. Her uncle and aunt were quite parental towards her, which he supposed was natural; a few things they said made him wonder if she’d lived with them for a while after her parents died. Her grandma had clearly taken a shine to him, and kept saying how nice it was to have a young man around the place

(“Look at all my beautiful granddaughters! You’d think they’d be like flies around the honeypot, but no. These modern girls, I was married by the time I was Chloe’s age”).

The Monopoly game progressed slowly. Everyone except Anna’s grandma played, and there was far more chatting than actual gameplay. Kristoff heard many anecdotes about Chloe’s job as a vet; he heard about Stephanie’s trip to Iceland; he heard about John and Caroline’s recent wedding anniversary.

(“We went to this new place near us,” Caroline said. “Mongolian barbecue. They cook the food on this big flat metal surface, you choose what you want and they make it right in front of you.”

“Like raclette?” Anna said.

“No, more like a stir-fry, but the pan is the size of the table.”

“That sounds fun!”

“There’s one of those in Worthing,” Kristoff said. “I’ll take you sometime, if you want.”

“Oh, yes!” Anna said. “That sounds great.”)

They were sitting next to each other on the floor and she had her hand on his knee. During the whole game she’d been doing that, or picking up his hand and playing with his fingers, or just leaning against his side. It was nice. But he tried not to think about it too much, or it made his stomach hurt.

When the game was finally over, Kristoff slipped out into the hall as the pieces were being packed up. He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a minute, thinking, then realised Anna had followed him out into the hall. “Everything alright?” she said.

“Yes, just going to go upstairs and read for a bit.”

“You can read here.”

“I need to be in a room by myself. Give me half an hour and then I can be sociable again.”

“Oh! Okay.”

Anna glanced sideways, through the door into the living room. Everyone in there went back to what they’d been doing as soon as she looked over.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “While everyone’s looking.”

Kristoff glanced into the living room as well. The speed with which everyone avoided his eye was quite impressive.

Anna reached up and put one hand on the back of his neck. She looked up at him expectantly.

Oh, fuck it. Fuck everything.

He cupped the side of her face with his hand, stroking back a lock of hair with his thumb. He closed his eyes as their lips met, kissing her gently at first, then again more deeply, feeling her lean into his body. When he drew away she followed him before finally dropping back onto her heels.

His face still close to hers, he whispered, “Pretend I said something sweet.”

She smiled at him, and bit her lip. He smiled back, then leant forward and whispered right into her ear, “Now pretend I said something filthy.”

Anna snorted, and pretended to cough, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“Good girl,” Kristoff murmured, then he met her eyes for one long moment and turned and walked up the stairs.

Anna felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she swallowed hard. How did two words sound so - she didn’t even know what.

She took a couple of steps forward, hopefully out of the eyeline of anyone in the living room, and leant on the bannister. She just - needed a second. To remind herself that she really, absolutely did not fancy Kristoff.

-----

Anna went back into the living room to give Kristoff his half hour of quiet. She picked up her phone, remembered she had nowhere near enough signal to do anything, and found her sketchbook instead. She’d brought it with her to take out and draw, but the weather was terrible, and she always preferred drawing people anyway.

By the time she’d drawn everyone in the room - with their knowledge or without - nearly an hour had passed. So she put the sketchbook aside and went upstairs. She’d had an idea.

Kristoff was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room when she went in, reading. He looked up briefly when she shut the door but didn’t say anything.

“Hi! This room is Steph’s, right?” Anna said, putting her hand on the wall behind the headboard.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“And she came upstairs a few minutes ago so she’s in there. And we’re above the kitchen, which is empty. Okay.”

Anna climbed onto the bed, and knelt in the centre.

“What’re you doing?” Kristoff asked her. She put her finger to her lips, and starting bouncing her knees up and down on the bed.

“Seriously -”

“Shhh!” Anna stopped, looked thoughtful, then stood up and started bouncing.

“You big kid -” Then he noticed that she was making the headboard bang rhythmically against the wall. He pointed at it. Anna grinned. “Oh my god,” he said. “Really?” She winked.

“You’re so weird,” he said, and turned back to his book. Anna kept going. “Be nice,” she said to him in a low voice, “Or I’ll make a loud grunting noise and then stop.”

“That’s the way you want to play it, is it?” he said. “Fine.” He put down his book, tapped his foot in time to her bouncing a few times, then started making high-pitched “Ah!” noises alongside each bounce.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Anna hissed. Kristoff increased his volume. She turned her back. “I’m ignoring you.”

“No you aren’t,” Kristoff said in his normal voice, then in a falsetto he said “Oh! Kristoff! You’re so amazing in bed -” Anna bent down mid-bounce, picked up a pillow and threw it at his head. “Ow! I’m just trying to help.”

Anna carried on bouncing. “What’s your endgame on this?” Kristoff said in a low voice.

“If you don’t know how these things go, I’m not helping you.”

“Fine.” He picked up this book again. “Ladies first. Let me know when my sound effects are needed.”

Anna kept bouncing. After a couple of minutes she started moaning on each bounce; then she put her hand over her mouth and made louder, muffled noises. Kristoff couldn’t help himself; he put down his book and watched her in amazement.

“Have you done this before?” he said.

“Don’t tell my grandma,” Anna said, and put her hand back over her mouth to stifle a wail.

[memorylang]

Reunions | #29 | March 2020

Fitting, this 29th story from my Peace Corps Mongolia life marks my reunion with our M29s, the senior cohort who taught me so much about how to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. 

From blurred goodbyes with mentors and friends, to an uncertain transatlantic journey, my continued evacuation felt nostalgic, new and every emotion between. In this story, I bring you from my city of service across Mongolia’s north central Khangai region, to pick up fellow Peace Corps Volunteer evacuees on our caravan to the capital. 

With every familiar face I saw, leaving Mongolia felt more and more real. 

Last Sunrise 

Sunday, March 1, I awoke early for my last sunrise in my apartment. 

Next, I went around the rooms, stowing the rest of my needs in my luggage and sweeping dust around the linoleum floors. I felt Mongolians were always tidier than my best. I left aside a few household things I didn’t mind whether they stayed or went. 

As I packed myself snack bundles in the kitchen for my journey ahead, I thought to my summer host mom. She made lunches for my day trips to Дархан /Darkhan/ on Peace Corps business. Those were great. 

Lastly, I heated on the stove my supervisor's remaining бууз /boe-z/ steamed dumplings she gifted at Tsagaan Sar. 

Just then my supervisor contacted me, she was on her way with бууз.

Mongolian hospitality’s the best. 

Sunday Rush 

The moment my supervisor arrived, through the next 45 minutes, was a lightning of activity. 

My supervisor wanted to make sure anything remotely useful to me, we’d stow away for my return. People from the uni were coming to clean the apartment, so she wanted nothing taken. 

I tried to explain I wasn’t sure I’d be coming back, for none of us knew Peace Corps’s situation. But I too wanted to come back. And I appreciated her planning for it. 

A supervisor wouldn’t plan for my return unless she wanted me to come back. 

So stowed away items and helped me complete every last detail needed to secure the apartment. She and one of the school workers showed me how to run thread through putty we pressed onto my closet doors. This way, if someone tampered with my doors that couldn’t lock, they’d know. We stamped the date on one side then pressed my key’s grooves into the other. 

As we wrapped up duties, I handed my supervisor my card for our department and an “Omnibus” student poetry book my training clustermate asked me to give my community. I also gave her some “Laubach Way” to Reading/English textbooks I referenced from teaching English in Reno, Nev., fall 2018. I hoped our department would use these. 

My priest friend from the night before returned, so my supervisor helped me load his vehicle. She insisted I haul this huge bag of snacks with me for my journey. I’d been offering them for others, but I finally acquiesced. I had my backpack, my small IKEA bag, my suitcase checked bag, the food sack and my stranded sitemate’s hiking backpack and camera bag. 

At last, goodbye. Throughout the week I’d ask my supervisor when I should leave my apartment key with her, since there was no use taking it with me to America. She’d told me to hold on to it, so it’s easier when I get back. I wasn’t sure I’d get back. 

During this last visit, well, she asked if I wanted her to have my key. 

The moment felt like an acceptance of this uncertainty. We locked the door. I gave her my key. 

I parted ways with thanks. My priest drove me to my senior M29 cohort sitemate’s apartment. Meanwhile, my supervisor shared in our department’s group chat my card. My colleagues wished me safe travels. I felt disappointed leaving them from just after our Lunar New Year. 

Bittersweet with Final Friends

After that rush, I’d a breather. 

My priest dropped me off by the curb, where a group of my friends gathered. They were from our coffee shop speaking group, including the English teacher who invited me over a couple nights before Tsagaan Sar. I felt touched they came to see me off. They left me with more food, snacks and gifts. 

With selfies and warm wishes, I wished my friends good-bye and came up to my sitemate’s apartment. 

Assembled within were our Peace Corps Volunteers’ long-time engineering friend, his friend, and our eager high schooler who visited me the night before. What a nice bunch. My sitemate related how the kid after receiving my Peace Corps key chain and name tag excitedly told him. Indeed, the kid still wore “Daniel Lang” when I arrived. What a cool lil’ dude. The guy resolved to be my first and last Mongolian visitor. He won. 

The first time I visited my Peace Corps sitemate’s apartment might have been the only time before now. That August 2019, I’d just arrived in town, and he offered up the left-behind M28 cohorts’ things. (That’s where I got the cork board I described in my packing story.) Now my sitemate’s apartment looked bare, save its furniture. 

On to business, my sitemate and I compared when we expected Peace Corps’s driver to reach town. We got different stories, so we called the driver with our Mongolian friends’ help. The driver just picked up our friendly spiritual sitemate from the village in our province over. We reasoned we’d plenty hours before leaving. 

We got squad pics. Beyond handing off keys to the colleagues of our stranded sitemates two or three days before, my friend here and our friends already grabbed a few belongings for our other stranded sitemate. With nothing left to do, we went out to find lunch. 

I loved the light snow flurries, quaintly reminding me of the auspicious Lunar New Year. But we found most places closed around the city to ward off COVID-19. (Mongolia doesn’t drive-through like America.) At least, we found open the bakery I visited the Saturday before with my translator friend. So our group got to-go and headed back. 

I enjoyed the meal. I had the pastry my speaking group friends gave me, plus the new бууз from my supervisor—my last from Tsagaan Sar 2020. They’d pizza. On a thrilling note, Peace Corps Mongolia emailed our flight itineraries. Turns out my sitemate and I’d fly Thursday before dawn. I felt shocked and awed that after Russia we’d come through Germany and the Netherlands! An overnight in New York City seemed weird. By Friday I’d touch down in Vegas...

We got our friendly sitemate’s calls, our driver was in-town. Time to go. 

Picking Up Pals in Peace Corps

I descended the apartment stairs, opened the front door and felt heartened. I'll never forget the Sunday sight of my fellow spiritual Volunteer. Before me was my Episcopalian Peace Corps friend’s delighted face. We’d assembled. 

My friends and I loaded up the white Peace Corps SUV. We strapped my suitcase among the bags up top, while I protected my stranded sitemate’s things in the vehicle. We exchanged small talk while we wrapped up. 

Moments later, our three local friends stood waving by the curb as we pulled away. What a blur. I didn’t catch a photo, but I felt their sight ingrained. 

We had a U.S. Embassy driver instead of a Peace Corps one, which explained why I didn’t recognize him. He had a wonderful sense of humor. With my friend, we shared snacks and compared evacuation stories. He told this wild one of how they almost drove off a cliff! I remembered Peace Corps’ Safety & Security emailed us about snow storms but I hadn’t thought of ‘em. 

We drove across the snowy world’s whiteness to the neighboring province for our next sitemate. As we entered a beautiful forested town, we could see why she hadn’t left her site much. Her village could have passed for a winter resort if tourism ever touched this. 

When we pulled into the yard of basically our sitemate’s host family, her dog barked, and the family welcomed us to tea and Tsagaan Sar food. ‘Evacuating’ felt surreal. I loved this little countryside stop. 

Our journey continued. 

Farewell in Sorrow

We had a mission. 

We headed on to one of our stranded sitemate’s places. Unfortunately, no one had been able to visit her area to pack her things. And like my senior M29 sitemate, she was of that cohort—the one not coming back. 

As we rode into site, I recalled an autumn day trip when my and my sitemates’ party of four came to visit. We cooked together. I wandered out a few hours back then. 

Now the site's covered in snow, and our different party of four came to her apartment with her colleague, instead of her. We forwarded to each other our stranded sitemate’s email of what to pack. Then we got to work, splitting up on rooms to take to scavenging her year and a half’s worth of memories. She helped over video call. 

She was among my Peace Corps mentors. I felt sad coming in and having to rummage her things for her. But if we didn’t, who could? 

We finished. We readied to leave. Then, watching our sitemate over video say goodbye to the colleague she couldn't come back to see in-person, I felt heartbroken. 

But we had to keep going.  

Police State? 

With the Health Volunteers in our car, Sunday, March 1 became the first day I actively heard people calling the creeping Coronavirus crisis a pandemic. 

But as we pulled into police and military checkpoints, the likes of which my priest described, I felt like were entered a police state. Americans and I commented among each other, people in the States would so resist measures like these to quarantine our nation. 

At checkpoints, we needed to show our passports and accept the forehead temperature checks. (If one in our party coughed after the health person walked away, we laughed about our luck.) 

After getting all set at our province border, our vehicle awaited the coming of our neighboring province’s Peace Corps evacuation party. We travel together the rest. 

Avengers Assemble

Fun fact: I naturally tend to frame my life in terms of adventures I’ve read, watched or played through. 

Seeing my old friends again, for instance, under these grave conditions reminded me of every time watching Steve Rogers first step onto a scene in “Avengers: Infinity War.” 

A white microbus arrived. Our fellow Volunteers arrived. 

Stepping out of our vehicle felt like being the Avengers, assembling in Wakanda for our Infinity War. All of us were evacuees. We all left behind our Mongolian homes. And we’d seen better days. But we were together. 

And yet, I felt somber with the sense we’d already ‘lost.’ With a snap, COVID-19 was wiping out half my Peace Corps Mongolia universe. Our senior M29 cohort would undergo their Close of Service. Their service would finish in the capital. But my cohort’s wouldn’t—or it may.

So we were in our Endgame. If we return to Mongolia, it'll be the greatest comeback. But half our Volunteers would still be gone, maybe more. We'd be starting a bit fresh, becoming the new senior cohort. But that'd be our duty—to continue where we and others left off, to keep going.

We shared moments of grins and hugs and small talk. I saw my Catholic friend again, what a guy. Then we re-boarded our vehicles. We left from Mongolia's second-largest city to its third. 

Hometown Snow Storm, That Winter Night

Riding back east across Mongolia, I recalled my previous trips in the country.

Further east, near dusk, we passed a turn off, where another driver head of us turned left. Our U.S. Embassy driver called that driver crazy. I’d been down that way before, during my day trip with Japanese JICA Volunteers to the historic monastery. But there was scarcely a daytime road—I couldn’t imagine getting there with this snow storm and night. 

Further down, we drove through Хөтөл /Khutul/, the soum where many of my Peace Corps cohort friends lived this summer. With darkness and snow all around, I could barely recognize the city of 12,000, beyond its street sign. 

Then we pulled through Номгон /Nomgon/, my Mongolian hometown. 

My senior sitemate and I both trained here, albeit during different years. With blowing snow and darkness surrounding, we couldn't even see the iconic mountain on our right. But to our left, he spotted the green of our school, and we saw the lights of the street-side convenience store beside the red tractor monument. 

We meant to visit home for Tsagaan Sar, before travel banned. I realized, I was the only one from my cluster who got to see our Mongolian hometown during winter. I taped a video of our passing and shared with my host family and training cluster. 

We continued on. 

Between Mongolia’s Largest Cities

At times, so much powder snow blasted across the road, I couldn't even see its edge. But we could see the red lights from the microbus of Peace Corps Volunteers ahead. 

Finally, we arrived in Дархан /Darkhan/, on the dark road that felt nothing like our summer rides in light. We stopped a while somewhere near the city proper’s border, somewhere I recalled from my host family driving me on a summer day trip. 

Besides briefing exiting a train during my winter trip to the capital for a Peace Corps conference, I'd never seen Дархан during winter. 

We stayed in a hotel overnight to wait out the snow storm before continuing for the capital the next morning.

I reorganized my food sack, enjoyed some nibbles. My Catholic friend roommate caught me up more on the peace of our situation. I felt awed, my senior sitemate played a Nintendo Switch. I hoped I could play someone’s back in the States. 

Change of Pace

Monday, March 2, we hurried our bags downstairs and had a quick lamb stew breakfast. 

Curiously, a Volunteer asked to switch from the microbus to our SUV. Cool, I swapped with her. Coincidentally she was the very first I met in my cohort during Staging in Philadelphia last May, before reaching Mongolia. We both gave speeches at our Swear-In Ceremony in August 2019. 

In the microbus were many Volunteers from our senior M29 cohort. I felt (maybe too) elated to see them again. They pointed out they’re processing their abrupt Close of Service—They needed space. 

Within a few hours, we’d hit the capital. Life gained speed, and, of course, I’ve more to share there. For now, though, I gazed out the window at our snow-blanketed world, with my fellow Volunteers in mind. Our lives, theirs especially, were changing fast. 

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me~

[brynprocrastinates]

Compliment of Questionnaire Tag Games

Since I have three of these stored up from the past two or three weeks, I’m just going to stick them all here. 

Tagged by @writerkaitlinm...

1. If you could stay one age forever, what age would you choose?

Probably 27. At this point, I’m still getting people who think I just graduated high school, so I think I need a few more years before I look like a legit adult.

2. If you were running for political office, what would your campaign slogan be?

“Please don’t elect me, I hate politics”...?

3. What is your favorite “bad” movie?

Oh man, that’s tough. I haven’t seen The Room yet, which is rather disgraceful, but you can’t go won’t with Neil Breen movies. 

4. What Hogwarts house would you be most surprised to be sorted into?

I used to think slytherin, but now I’m pretty sure I’ve transitioned into ravenclaw. So if I was actually going to hogwarts I would’ve been a slytherin student, because that’s were I aligned in middle and high school, but I probably would have had a lot of ravenclaw friends and went into a very ravenclaw field of work.

5. You’re supposedly the last person on earth, and someone knocks on your door. Who would you be most horrified to find out is the only other person alive?

Trump. There’s probably someone I would be more horrified over but I can’t decide at the moment. 

6. What book has had the biggest impact on your life?

There is one particular book series which motivated me to deal with some of my mental health problems, to read for fun after not getting through an entire book since high school, and to start writing again after not having put a single word down on anything for over two years, but as it’s consider “too problematic” on tumblr I won’t release the name of it quiet.

7. How do you get rid of stress?

Exercising really helps, but usually I just sit away and cry instead. 

8. Asking questions or answering questions?

Both, depending on the subject. 

9. What’s your favorite Olympic sport?

Ice skating!

10. What app is a must have?

Discord, because it’s where I talk to all my international friends.

11. What would you rate 10/10?

It’s hard to say I would rate anything 10/10, except maybe something vague, like the Isle of Skye.

Tagged by @scribble-dee-vee...

1. Do you prefer books with an emphasis on character building, world building, or plot development?

All three, preferably! If I absolutely have to choose one, good characters will pull me through an otherwise bad book, but I don’t think you can have a genuinely good book without all three being well focused on and thought through.

2. Do you watch a lot of television? If so, what are some of your favorite shows?

I only watch tv on netflix on occasion. Some of the shows I’ve enjoyed, off the top of my head, include Parks and Rec, Leverage, Stranger Things, Voltron, and Blacklist. And my all time favorite show in all existence, Avatar; the Last Airbender. 

Currently I’m watching iZombie, which is pretty enjoyable in it’s own quirky way.

3. What’s the most acceptable book-to-screen adaptation in your opinion?

The first three Harry Potter movies and the LoTR movies (not including the Hobbit series.)

4. What’s the least acceptable book-to-screen adaptation in your opinion?

AtLA and Percy Jackson totally never ever had movies made after them, so probably have to say Eragon, though the book itself wasn’t spectacular. 

5. How do you feel about the last book you read?

Good Omens. Absolutely fantastic. 

6. Which of your favorite fictional characters would you most want to meet?

Probably Dejean. I just love him so much, and also I have faith that he both wouldn’t kill me and wouldn’t do something totally innocent which accidentally results in death.

7. Which of your favorite fictional characters would you least want to meet?

Most of them would kill me...

8. Cake or ice-cream? Discuss.

Eh. Ice cream if it has fruit in it, but cake if it’s moist with the perfect amount of sugar in the frosting.

9. Tell me about your favorite oc or character from a current WIP! You know the one :D (if you don’t have any, feel free to gush about a favorite from a book or movie instead)

Kleos. But I can’t actually say anything about them because it’s major spoilers.

10. What’s your favorite outfit?

I’m a comfort over fashion type person, so my workout clothes are legitimately my favorite. 

I really want a giant cloak tho...

11. What’s your classification in your favorite series? (ex, Hogwarts house, Homestuck classpect, godly parent, Voltron lion, etc.)

I dunno to be honest. I was really into that through high school and most of university, and then I just stopped caring for the last couple years, so I’m not sure I would even be in most of them.

Tagged by @roselinproductions...

1. If you could learn all the careers you ever wanted to be in a single year, what would you study?

Pretty much everything but history. Computer programming, organic chemistry, medicine, theoretical math, quantum physics, animation, literature, acting, anthropology, and a whole lot more immunology. 

2. Tomorrow’s the last day of the universe. You have 24 hours to do anything you want, no limits. What will you be doing in the last seconds of our universe’s existence?

Hiking to some crazy ancient ruins in the jungle. OR skydiving down to them. And then swimming by a waterfall.

3. First ever film you remember watching in a movie theater?

I honestly don’t remember. 

4. Have you ever met a celebrity/role model/king or queen and who was it?

Never. 

5. What do you do when you’re bored?

Turn on music and clean, while singing. 

6. What type of food would you sell if you opened a restaurant?

Putting aside the fact that I can’t cook and I’m pasty white, I would probably open some sort of Mongolian stir fry, because that’s what my favorite restaurant is, and I would kill to be able to eat it whenever I wanted.  

7. What year has been the best of your life and why?

The year I lived in Scotland for the fall. 

8. How do you react when you see an animal pass by while walking down the street?

... Usually I’m oblivious, so I don’t do anything. 

9. How would you survive the Hunger Games?

Do an awful lot of hiding and sneaking around, but try to pick people off quietly and quickly so I wouldn’t have to worry about growing weak from lack of food or water. Probably climb a lot of trees and rocks and attack from the air or behind.

10. Would you rather live up to age 20 having lived the success of all your wildest dreams or live up to age 90 having lived simply a beautiful ordinary life?

I don’t have any desire to live to be 90 anyways, so the first option sounds ideal. 

11. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never have because of fear?

For a while now I’ve wanted to tell certain members of my family (including my parents) about my sexuality, but I’m deathly afraid of their reaction. I would also love to drop everything and travel the world, but I’m (rightly) afraid that I’d run out of money before getting on the first plane.

[glanzer2]

You probably want to read it, so here it is… EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED ON OUR ROAD TRIP!!!!

Day 1: Austin-Dallas-Tulsa

The trip got started bright and early Thursday morning. In a very rare instance of John out-sleeping me, I woke him up. “John, wake up, it’s time to go on our trip!” The boy leapt out of bed and threw his clothes on. We said our goodbyes and were on the road by 8am.

The first item on my to-do list was brunch in Dallas at the acclaimed Maple Leaf Diner, a Canadian themed breakfast spot. Johnny opted to eat only a scone, while I snarfed down an eggs Benedict. The most difficult driving I encountered on the trip was in southern Dallas on 35-E, where road construction had the interstate down to two very narrow lanes. I was in the left lane attempting to get around a semi, going 75mph, with literally two inches of space on each side between a concrete barrier and the truck. White knuckle driving, indeed.

North of Dallas, things cleared up and it was a pleasant drive to the small town of Denison, TX. I stopped to see the birthplace and museum of 34th president Dwight Eisenhower. Johnny screamed, pouted, and threw a fit that we stopped because it interrupted his watching of Ghostbusters cartoons. He perked up though when he remembered he had $50 of souvenir bucks for the trip, and bought a cheaply made army tank kit from the gift shop. Onward we went into Oklahoma, where I came upon a famous peanut shop, the Peanut Shoppe. We loaded up on peanuts, pretzels, taffy and jerky and hit the road again. Later, I slammed on the brakes and pulled over to buy the boy some fruit at a roadside fruit stand. Even then, the shop proprietor gave him a popsicle. He fell asleep as we headed up the turnpike to Tulsa.

Upon arrival in town, we checked into our cozy little Airbnb and relaxed. The boy would have been highly content staying at the house for the rest of the day, but I coaxed him into the van and over to Tulsa’s renowned park, The Gathering Place. Wow. This park had it all. Apparently the heir to an oil fortune donated $600MM to construct the most amazing playground I’ve had the pleasure of visiting. We played in 100º heat for two hours and left with both of us soaked to the bone. We returned to the Airbnb and showered, and planned our dinner. Johnny wanted pepperoni pizza, so I texted my company’s CEO and asked if he knew a good spot. My company, ConsumerAffairs, is based in Tulsa, after all. That was part of the reason for stopping there overnight. Rather than direct us to a good restaurant, he instead invited us over to his house for dinner. John played with my boss’s two kids while I enjoyed a couple beverages with the adults. Good but late night! We were asleep around 11:30.

So long, suckers! Road trip ahead.

That’s why this place is famous.

Big silverware

John enjoys breakfast at the Maple Leaf Diner in Dallas

My tasty Canadian eggs Benedict dish

John and a patriotic horsey

The boy pays his respects to Dwight Eisenhower

The Eisenhower house

The boy was saying “I like Ike!” by the end of this visit.

Peanut Shoppe sign

The Peanut Shoppe was a fun stop for some road snacks

Roadside fruitstand. Yes.

All tuckered out by 3.

Wow, cool Airbnb!

The American Pie family in the Airbnb house was a nice touch.

The Gathering Place in Tulsa is le-GIT. Coolest playground/park I’ve seen.

Day 2: Tulsa-Independence-Topeka-Auburn

We awoke and headed to my office first thing in the morning, where every Friday they cater breakfast and have an all-company standup meeting. I was called to the front to say a few words, and was surprised when my colleagues pulled out masks of my face, forming a Glanzer flash mob. How welcoming! We had plans for more Tulsa stops, but it was raining heavily so we just hit the road north into Kansas.

I stopped near the small town of Independence to check out one of the Laura Ingalls homesteads. John again showed zero interest of this roadside attraction and sulked on the front porch, refusing to budge. As we were there alone, way out in the country, I left him to sort out his feelings and explored on my own. He later perked up and wasted a few bucks in the gift shop on a log cabin toy and a cowboy that grows in water. In town, we spotted a free zoo, so I pulled over. Turns out it was the zoo where the original monkey blasted into orbit was from! A bit of space history. We motored on north through miles of rolling prairies of eastern Kansas with virtually nothing to stop and see.

Finally we made it to Topeka, where I had a handful of items to check out, but we wound up visiting only one—the Evel Knevel Museum, which is inside a Harley dealership. If you ever get to Topeka, it’s worth a visit! We each took our turn on a virtual reality 4D bus-jumping motorcycle experience. While it made me a little nauseous, Johnny loved it and went twice! We were running a little behind schedule, so I skipped plans to see the Brown vs Board of Education building and state capitol and ventured on into Nebraska, where we arrived at the home of Dorrie and Ken Heronimus, parents of my good friends Jason and Jeff LaPlant.

The Heronimuses and LaPlants were very welcoming. We enjoyed a home-cooked shrimp boil dinner and caught up. Once nearly inseparable, I had not seen either LaPlant brother since at least 2012. Johnny was wound up on sugar and caffeine and put on quite a display of silliness in the basement, whacking people with pillows and stealing socks. In the morning, we enjoyed a tasty biscuits/gravy breakfast and headed out.

First to work! John enjoys breakfast at ConsumerAffairs in Tulsa

Johnny poses with the Glanzer masks made by my colleagues

Ingalls gift shop

Ingalls porch

This Laura carving is guaranteed to haunt you in your dreams

John was furious with the stop-off and vowed to stay on the front porch.

Pa built that with his own two hands!

The Ingalls’ shanty

The Ingalls post office

The Ingalls schoolhouse.

A very interesting exhibit – home to the first monkey in space. In… Independence, Kansas? Apparently so.

Angry like a lion

You guessed it – another stop, buddy boy!

Some Knevel jackets

Outside the refurbed Knevel bus

Evel’s cushy lounge in his bus

Evel himself

Ready for his first VR experience

Johnny loved the VR Knevel experience

Some Knevel toys

Jeff meets Johnny

Jason meets Johnny

I reunite with the LaPlant boys after far too long

Day 3: Auburn-Vermillion

The long drive along I-29 through Nebraska and Iowa was uneventful. Sure, I could have stopped off and done some fun stuff in either Omaha or Sioux City, but in the end the boy was sick of stopping, and I am already quite familiar with that area of the country. So, we cruised straight into Vermillion, SD, home of my sister’s family. Jordan and her boys Hudson and Colton were eager to take Johnny to the town’s new pool. Johnny had a blast swimming with the cousins all afternoon. In the evening Jordan left for a photo shoot and Abul and I were in charge of heating pizzas for dinner for the kids, but wound up with black smoke billowing out of the house. 13-year-old cousin Emmy graciously volunteered to babysit the younger kids so the adults could enjoy a trip to the bars. Some of Jordan’s co-workers joined us and we were out til around 1am. I’d venture to say not everyone woke up feeling terribly perky, though I was A-OK.

What’s this, daddy?

Swimming, swimming, swimming… so much swimming.

I later found out I was using the little kid tubes.

High dive, no floatie… what could go wrong? Yes, I did have to jump in and rescue him.

Vermillion pool

Vermillion pool

Fun in the cousins’ room

Big dog

Cousins and dog

Pizza and cousins and screens

Trampoline time! I guess this beast was laid to rest after we left.

Abul stokes the flames

Dessert on the trampoline

Bar fun in Vermillion with the old gang!

c

Abul bought a growler to pass around AT the bar… I like this guy!

Vermillion bar

Day 4: Vermillion-Sioux Falls-Watertown

We made the quick drive north to Sioux Falls primarily so I could get fitted for a tux for a friend’s upcoming wedding—I had to get fitted there or Des Moines, so it worked out well that it happened to be on the path. We also wandered the mall, ate lunch at Huhot Mongolian Grill, and I saw Falls Park for the first time. Afterwards we headed north to Watertown, specifically Lake Kampeska, where good friend C.M. Walsh allowed us to stay at his family’s lake cabin free of charge for two days. I could have just headed to the family farm in Carpenter, but I figured this would be more fun. Brother Alex and his family joined us at the cabin Sunday night, and we enjoyed dinner at The Prop and then swam off the dock until dusk. There were no late-night shenanigans this time!

The legendary DakotaDome, last thing we spotted leaving Vermillion

John climbs the rocks at Falls Park. An adventurous little scamp.

My first trip to Falls Park. Some South Dakotan I am.

Taking in the beauty of the falls

John was getting a little too close to the water for my taste

Nice.

Lunch at Huhot. Sioux Fallsians love this spot.

Shirt shopping for Luke’s wedding

Culver’s at the world’s largest single story mall

Cute little niece Auden sucking down some lemonade at the bar

4 of the 5 cousins who bear the Glanzer name. Edie not present.

My dollar bill (borrowed from Alex) immortalized on the Prop’s ceiling.

What’s a trip to a SD bar without some video lottery? Alex won big.

Some evening swimming off the Kampeska dock

Swimming at Kampeska

Swimming at Kampeska

Swimming at Kampeska

Swimming at Kampeska

Swimming at Kampeska

Look there, nephew John, a beached whale!

Swimming at Kampeska at sunset

Sun setting on Kampeska

Cousin hijinks at bedtime

Not at all edited sunset

Day 5: Watertown

The first day totally off the road was spent at the Walsh family cabin. I did, however, make a quick trip into town for breakfast groceries. There was more swimming in the morning, and around noon my parents arrived. The original plan was that Dad would be bringing his boat and we’d spend the day zipping around the lake tubing, but due to mechanical problems the boat was left at home. Instead, it was just a lot more swimming and a little kayaking. Some of the adults did some quality day-drinking, otherwise things stayed pretty calm and some of the kids even napped during the day. At night, all the family left for home. John and I were faced with a tough decision of following them out to the farm for the night or just staying in Watertown at the cabin. Seeing how going to the farm would have added 125 miles of driving onto our trip, we opted to just stay by ourselves at the cabin and bid the family adieu.

Breakfast fixins from HyVee

Lunch moments later!

No boat, so… more swimming!

Grandma Marcie and Grandpa Dick bask in the hot summer sun

The view from the kayak

Not our first or second kayaking adventure

Alex wears a very small life jacket to kayak

Me in the kayak on the rough waters

Toss the kids in

Farewell for now, grandson

Grandpa and John say goodbye

Ouch! Back injury for boy

A safe return to shore

Day 6: Watertown-Minneapolis suburbs

After packing up the cabin in the morning, John and I embarked eastward for the first time on the trip, heading into Minnesota on backroads due to road construction. As I approached the Twin Cities, we stopped in Chanhassen at the site of my first job, Microboards Technology, better known today as Afinia. There, we were given the tour of the changes to the building since I last was there in 2011. It was a very weird feeling being back there—in some ways it felt like I had been to work just yesterday. So little had changed. The personnel was almost all people I had known from before. I walked into a bathroom and immediately remembered every word to the Abraham Lincoln poster hanging on the wall. Johnny, needless to say, was bored senseless.

Next, we had a pretty wide open agenda. It was only 2pm, and we had a couple hours to kill. There were numerous friends, restaurants, bars, or attractions I could have taken the lad to, but he wanted to see his Grandpa Steve and Granny Anne, so off we went to Bloomington to visit with them for a couple hours. After being carted around for 1,300 miles and stopping for many piddly things, John looked perfectly content to just stay at his grandparents house and play Legos all night, but it was not to be. I loaded him back in the van and headed to Eden Prairie to visit friends Liz and Curt right before their big move. John was forced to acclimate to more new friends in short order, and just as they were getting acquainted, we loaded up and headed further west!

We arrived in Minnetrista where our friends the Walshes were enjoying National Night Out, serving root beer floats on the street corner. After Johnny and his old buddy Lorenzo got reacquainted, they attempted to have a sleepover. Naturally, Johnny wound up in bed with me again. I was up relatively late catching up with Walsh and Sarah, but we just ain’t as crazy as we used to be. Midnight was about all I could handle.

Microboards still looks about the same as I left her

Amuk the elephant, Microboards’ famous mascot.

John got some brief Lego playtime in with the grandparents

Popsicles with the Burke-Assmann kids

More new friends

John and Lorenzo get reacquainted

National Night Out in Minnetrista… it was a par-tay!!!

Bedtime for the boys

The boys’ sleepover lasted all of six minutes

Day 7: Minneapolis

This day was 99% based around the Twins-Braves day game at Target Field. It was a scorcher, too. Our seats were in the direct path of the sun and there was nowhere to hide. Before the game even started, we were seeking shade. John burst out in tears in the top of the first. I assumed it was because he was hot and uncomfortable, but it was due to the Braves hitting a pair of solo homers! This poor kid, what have I set him up for… The boy pleaded to leave early many times, but was bought off with sno-cones and mini donuts. As we departed the stadium in the eighth inning, we popped into a lower-level section to see if a friend was sitting there. He wasn’t, but we snagged some seats near the playing field and immediately had a foul ball wiz past us, and were spotted on the JumboTron. As we left the park for good, an usher asked if the boys wanted to go on the field and run the bases… of course we did!

The kids seemed to enjoy the experience, but I am sure Walsh and I were even more eager to step foot on the sacred grounds. I attempted to film ourselves running the bases, which was a mistake… I should have just enjoyed the moment. The kids were both out cold in the car on the drive home, and it was an early bedtime for me on the couch as we attempted to watch TV with Mr. Bradley Feeney.

Lorenzo and John at First Ave

In our seats, in the sun’s direct path

Me at my favorite place on Earth

Popcorn and a cap were first on the order for the boy

Grainbelt Nordeast, a Mpls favorite

Popcorn in the shade

The kids were being filmed for something… I wonder what?!

The boys meet TC Bear

Cooling off at the Bat & Barrel

Braves and Twins duking it out

The Twins rallied a little while we were sitting here

Just after the Twins turned a triple play

The boys stack hats on Walsh

Walsh and Lorenzo on the warning track

Me touching home plate

The boys at the Twins dugout

John and I on the field

Walking the field

Me at the dugout

Day 8: Minneapolis-Wisconsin-Iowa-Galena, IL

We said goodbye to the Walshes and headed to the Minneapolis airport to pick up Lauren and Edie for the Poulter family get-together. This was the part of the trip we probably would have done in some form, week-long road trip leading up to it or not. Johnny sure missed his baby sister! We loaded them in the car and made a quick pit stop for breakfast at Hot Plate Diner. The road to the northwestern corner of Illinois took us through Iowa and Wisconsin where we saw some surprisingly nice scenery.

The ride with the baby in tow certainly slowed things down compared to just the boys. We had to stop off fairly often as she was screaming and sick of the car. Around 4:00 we got to the small town of Galena and headed out into the country to the Eagle Ridge Resort. Lauren’s family arrived from around the Midwest throughout the night and we hung around chatting and such.

Good to see Pops again!

Siblings reunited after a week apart

Edie at a random Iowa gas station

Edie and I enter Wisconsin briefly

Edie frolicks in the meadow

Our townhome at the resort

The Farmstead townhomes at the resort

The van reached the elusive 55555 on the way to Galena

Edie makes her Wisconsin debut.

Day 9-10: Galena

The time at the resort was mostly very laid-back and relaxing. There were a couple of connecting townhouses rented out, a floor for each family basically. We ate all meals in, with different groups in charge of preparing each meal. Activities during the day ranged from swimming and pontoon rides to horseback riding and board games. But swimming at one of two pools seemed to be the kids’ preference. One day while Lauren was out with Johnny and the cousins, I took Edie into town on my own and saw the home of former president Ulysses S. Grant. Edie, unlike her brother, was a good sport and posed nicely for all of the pictures I asked for without making a fuss.

Baby hanging in jammas

A hearty breakfast

The cousins

Swinging

Cousins on a swing

Giant checker board

Baby swimming

Family swimming – man I’m getting sick of typing captions, can you tell?

Grandpa Steve and Edie

Tim and kids

Baby on daddy belly

Caption

John and great uncle Dave pontooning

The navigator

Pontoon

Resort pool

Edie getting a history lesson

Ulysses S. Baby!

Edie and the first lady

Birthday cake time for Julia

Happy birthday

Poulter siblings and offspring

Three girl cousins born within about a year of each other

Glanzer family normal

Glanzer family crazy

Day 11: Galena-St Louis-Rural Arkansas

When the Poulter family fun was through, the Glanzers hit the road around 10am and started south towards St. Louis. At one time, it was believed that the drive home would be just as leisurely as the first two days. John and I would dump the gals in St Louis at the airport to fly home, and we’d take our time seeing fun sites, and grazing parts of Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Unfortunately, we received word too late in the game that John had to be back in Austin by Monday at 4pm for kindergarten orientation, which did turn out to be very important and something we would have regretted missing. So out went the fun and it was pedal to the metal. We dropped Lauren and Edie at the airport around 5:30pm Sunday, giving us 22.5 hours to make it 14 hours back to Austin. Even though there was a more direct route through Missouri that connected back with I-35, I decided to do something different and see a part of the country I’d never visited before.

So, we went south of St Louis through Mark Twain National Forest. It was very nice scenery and very minimal traffic on a 4-lane divided highway for hours. When we finally hit the state line in far northeast Arkansas, however, the roads turned to two lanes, the sun went down, and towns were very sparse. At this point, John was sick and tired of the trip and regretted not flying home with the girls, which at one time was on the table. He bawled and bawled. So I gave in and let him grab whatever junk he wanted at gas stations to calm him down—he bought a toy gun, Gatorade, and M&Ms. It quieted him down for a while, but soon he was bawling again. He cried himself to sleep as we continued through Arkansas well into the night.

I had made the decision earlier in the night to try to pull an all-nighter, so I stopped for coffee at every McDonald’s on the way. But at 1:30, even though I was still feeling alright physically, I was getting blown off the road by semis on I-30. I kept spotting deer in the ditches, and was afraid of hitting one, so I was going at best 58mph. I guess the semis wouldn’t have cared too much if they hit one cause they kept blowing around me at 80mph. So, I finally vowed to pull off at the next lodging sign I saw. It happened to be a random motel called the Southfork Inn, outside a town called Gurdon, Arkansas. I buzzed on the intercom holding a limp child, asking for a room. I got the key and tossed him on the bed. Despite being wildly caffeinated, I quickly went to sleep. I got about four solid hours before waking at 6 to continue onward.

Day 12: Gurdon-Texarkana-Austin

The final push was Monday morning. A road-weary Johnny was promised fresh donuts for the drive, but had to settle for pre-packaged powder mini donuts from a dumpy truck stop. We reached Texarkana, and I had the option of heading south towards Shreveport or heading on west towards Dallas. It wouldn’t have been too much further to hit the Louisiana border and then drive over to Austin, but I decided the quickest route was best, and continued on towards DFW, site of the worst traffic of the trip. And once again, upon reaching the giant metro, it was more white knuckle driving. I regretted the decision to cut a few miles off and visit a new state only to wind up back in that mess. With a brief stop here and there for snacks, we finally reached Austin around 1:30 and had arrived home with 3,008 miles on the van. So close to a round 3,000!

The IA/IL border

Roadstop rest

Bye girls! Dropping Mama and Edie at St Louis airport

Sun setting somewhere on the road

A fricking exhausted kid

Wiped out at the rural Arkansas roadside motel

HOME AT LAST

Post-Trip Thoughts

Unlike last year’s Black Hills trip, I returned home from this trip feeling very good about the things we were able to do and see. I upped my game tremendously in terms of pre-trip research this time around. I had about three possible attractions in every town between Austin and Vermillion to stop off and see, and every time the mood struck, we pulled off and saw one of them. The trick for researching fun road trip to-do items is not to rely on sites like RoadTrippers.com or RoadsideAmerica.com or whatever. Strictly Google the town, and Google provides a “travel guide” with top attractions. That’s where I found almost everything fun we did. No, we didn’t do everything on my list due to time constraints, but the fact that we did even half of them is pretty amazing.

We also had a blast catching up with old friends, colleagues, family and strangers along the way. Special thanks again to the Carmans, the LaPlants and Heronimuses, the Krogmans, and the Walshes for their hospitality!

What might I do differently if we were to do this trip again? For the first three days, nothing. Those days were perfect! Day 4 where we went from Vermillion to Sioux Falls to Watertown, I rushed things a bit. We could have easily found more interesting things to see on the way. I was anxious to get to the Walsh cabin, believing the whole family would be there when we arrived. But it turned out we had several hours alone. I might also have gone out to the farm for a day instead of spending two nights at the cabin. We were sad to not get to see Grandma Bell! Same goes for the drive from Watertown to Minneapolis… we made great time and got into town early, but didn’t really have a plan. I should have thought that out a little more and capitalized on a rare free afternoon in the greatest city on earth. After that, there wasn’t really much room to rethink things. The Galena part was pretty well structured, and the drive home left for virtually no lallygagging. I think it was the right amount of time to be away… Johnny was sick and tired of it by the very end, though, so I wouldn’t have extended it any. And I came back to work very refreshed.

Future Trips

Oh, my 2019 does not slow down at all. In the coming months are trips to Tulsa, a mystery Luke Katuin bachelor party destination, Des Moines for Luke’s wedding, probably Tulsa a second time, and maybe even a 10-year wedding anniversary trip in November if we can make it work. But for road trips like this? I fully intend to do something of this nature every year from now on. The kids have long breaks from school and daycare, and I work remotely and have a great PTO plan at my job, so it should be easy to get away. Also, I kind of enjoy driving in general. I get to drive outside the Austin city limits so infrequently, it feels very good to just hit the open roads for an extended period of time. I just wish I could avoid Dallas! The kids probably won’t actually enjoy long car rides for a while yet, but they will learn to like them eventually. I remember distinctly in 1991, nearly 9 years old, so stoked to go on the 7-hour drive to the Black Hills. I sat in the backseat of the Oldsmobile with a notebook and wrote down everything I saw on the way: every town name, every attraction, etc. But to that point in my life trips were extremely rare/nonexistent, so of course it was a thrill.

I hope you’ve enjoyed hearing every detail about my journey.

Road Trip 2019 You probably want to read it, so here it is... EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED ON OUR ROAD TRIP!!!!

[bowtomypointlesswords]

I want to know everything!!!!!! 1-6, 12-17, 23-26, 30, 33, 34, 40 (Link an AO3, Wattpad, etc. if you have one), 41, 52-54. Thanks in advance.

Wow you really do want to know everything! Goodness, well I hope I don’t disappoint haha! Thanks for the ask!1. Favorite place to write.My favorite place to write is anywhere I can be wholey alone. I tend to do most writing at night, late.2. Favorite part of writing.My favorite thing about writing is escaping into my own worlds. I like being able to get away from my stresses and write fluff or get my anger out in a fight scene.3. Least favorite part of writing.I hate that feeling where you want to write but when you pull up the document it just stares at you and the little line blinks and eventually you just close the program and feel sad…4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?I carry a notebook everywhere with me. I may not use it often but it’s always in my purse in case I need it. I also have both Google Drive and Evernote on my phone for access to all of my documents.5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.Brian Jacques (The Tales from Redwall), and Barbra Park (Junie B. Jones) were a big part of my childhood. Scott Westerfield (Uglies), and E.D. Baker (The Frog Princess) were also influential. More recently Douglas Addams (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy), Edgar Allen Poe (The Tell Tale Heart, Nevermore, The Caske of MonteCristo… others) and Michael Scott (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel) have been big for me.6. Favorite character you ever created.Oh gosh this one is hard… You’re asking me to choose between my babies here! Uh, my favorite is the Mob Boss Katlin Taylor from Resist. I don’t know what it is about her. Maybe it’s the Irish accent… Maybe it’s the fact she can kill people without ruining her mascara or breaking a sweat… maybe it’s the fact she’s crazy hot and still powerful, smart, and still cares a great deal about the little people…12. How do you deal with self-doubts?I’m lucky I have a very supportive mother. She helps. When she’s not around I tend to take breaks. I step away from it for a few days, I reread when I come back and remember I don’t suck.13. How do you deal with writers block?I find someone to talk it out with… this has on occasion been myself in an empty room talking to a stuffed animal or my cat. It has also been a living person I trust (I.E. my mother.) I’ve also taken breaks as stated above. You have to let ideas breathe sometimes. Sometimes showers help. All the oxygen really gets the brain going.14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book?I have delved deep. I want to do my characters and my readers justice. I’ve researched PTSD, I researched multiple personality disorder when one of my characters had that even though that idea was ultimately scrapped. I’ve looked at the effects of drugs, the price of various goods in various markets, I looked into Mongolian culture when I made my Mongolian character Ghoa. I always try to be thorough and thoughtful.15. Where does your inspiration come from?Everywhere. No really. Everywhere. Books, movies, plays, music, random conversations I overhear at restaurants, people watching in the park… I watched the new Oceans 8 this weekend and was inspired to work on a fanfic I’ve barely touched in months.16. Where do you take your motivation from?An inner drive… I can’t not write. I don’t really know where it comes from, I just have to write.17. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?Lately? Maybe 100 words a day…? I’m in a slump and struggling to crawl my way out of it. I don’t really keep track of how many words I write a day anyway though. I just write until I hit a block. Could be four words could be 1000, I never know.23. Single or multi POV, and why?Single. I find multi POV to be disorienting as a writer and as a reader sometimes being in too many heads drags me out of the story. That said I’ve read good books that were multi POV.24. Poetry or prose, and why?Oh goodness, uh… I like both but can’t write Poetry very well (at least in my opinion, others tend to disagree) prose is fun for me, I like getting flowery and testing my vocabulary skills.25. Linear or non-linear, and why?Both and here’s why. Writing Linear is great. You follow the story as it progresses. Until you get stuck for 6 months because you can’t get through the current scene because you don’t really want to write it and want to skip ahead to X scene. Non Linear is great too. You get to write all the fun stuff first. You get to explore outside your plot line a bit more. You can also get super lost and forget the plot.26. Standalone or series, and why?Ahahaha I’ve tried so hard to keep books simple. They almost always turn into big long series… I don’t know how or why.30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.Oh no… uh… well it’s less a line and more just a word and its description… “Marfing: the combination of the words Muffled and Barking, used to describe a sound, such as a small dog being stuffed inside a coat and barking to be let out.”33. Do you listen to music when you’re writing?Sometimes I do. Other times I can’t handle having it on, usually if I have to really think hard about something.34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?Both as I said above, I have both a physical notebook on hand at all times and my phone for accessing docs and evernote.40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why?Both! I write both. My Fanfic.Net account is LadyAugust (I’m on mobile and can’t link right now but as soon as I’m on my laptop I can message you a link.) I currently have 2 stories for the same video game, with lots of added in extras and plenty of chapters if you’re bored. The second one is still in progress, and there’s another to be finished after that one…41. How many stories do you work on at one time?Too many. I have so many ideas buzzing around my brain… I believe the current total of stories I’ve developed and begun writing on is up to at least 10 now. But I’m focusing on 3 currently (not counting fanfics)52. How did writing change you?Writing gave me an outlet. It made me conscious of issues and personal microaggressions. It showed me that I needed to be better.53. What does writing mean to you?Writing has always been a part of me. I was 4 when I started telling stories. I was in 7th grade when I started writing everyday. I never stopped. My mom says it runs in the family. She’s an artist and writes sometimes, my grandmother is an artist and makes quilts… writing also gave me a safe place to deal with my parent’s divorce, it let me deal with my anger and grief, it helped me understand my anxiety, it helped me vent my pain. Writing is my safe haven. Without it I’d be a mess… well more of a mess…54. Any writing advice you want to share?Writing is hard. It’s easy to look up tips and be discouraged or to change how you write thing… but honestly all writing advice is subjective, and it’s all just opinions. Seriously, I used to get so worried sick over including things or not including things, I used to worry about everything I wrote… now I take writing advice less seriously. Some is good, tips on how to write characters you may not be used to writing like Writing With Color here on tumblr, but those “never use said” or “no one smirks in real life” tips can go burn in the garbage fires they came out of imho. But that’s just my two cents.Whew, that was a lot… thanks again for the ask!

[the-record-columns]

Oct. 25, 2025: Columns

Del Monte coffee?

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

Some time ago, I wrote a piece about the seemingly endless variety of patent medicine remedies manufactured and sold nationally during the early 1900’s by the Brame Drug Store.  It is truly fun and fascinating to read the labels of these various medicines with names like Vapomentha Salve, which competed head to head for years with Vick’s Vapo Rub.  Others included, Brame’s Pain Knocker; Lime Water, an antacid; Fematone, the great regulator for girls and women; Rheuma-Lax for aches, pains and rheumatic fever; the ever popular Castor Oil; and my personal favorite,Brame’s Laxative Cold Tablets.

Since spending all those days in the attic and the cellar of the old Brame building on Main Street, I have found myself looking more and more at old jars and bottles, particularly those with paper labels. Most are common and far less than unusual, but I want to share a couple of what I consider “finds” today.  Now, my definition of a find may differ from yours, but to me it is something I have not seen before, or have developed a whole new interest in for whatever reason.

Today, I want to talk about coffee jars. 

First off, I can barely remember ground coffee being in jars at all, but I do.  We all know about Maxwell House, Choice, Eight O’Clock, Nescafe, Starbucks, J F G, and, my current early a. m. choice, Folger’s, of which I sip a cup every morning, patiently waiting for the day they call me to do a commercial.  The jars I found, however, are for a coffee I never knew existed, Del Monte. 

Now, clearly I understand that there is a really big book that can be written about things I have never heard of, but in the 30 years or so I have actively pursued things old and unusual, I had never seen a jar of Del Monte coffee until I found them  in the upstairs of the old Payne building on Main Street here in North Wilkesboro.  Since then, I have shown them to practically everyone who has stopped to visit at my office at The Record, as well as tried to contact Del Monte for information.

So far, no one has ever seen Del Monte coffee before, and the Del Monte company hasn’t seen fit to respond to our inquiries.  Also, since the Del Monte coffee “find” I have looked in numerous stores and junk holes looking for another, also to no avail.  

Next, I want to move on to an old bottle of Clorox Liquid Cleaning and Washing Compound.  I found this beauty in the same place, the Payne building, and the 1942 copyright date on the label places it in the 60 plus year old category.  You will notice I didn’t use the word bleach—it was only mentioned incidentally along with numerous other uses, which included removing stains, scorch marks, and mildew.  This quart glass bottle of Clorox also proclaimed that it was Ultra-refined R and could be used as a disinfectant, deodorizer, and germicide.  Above a clothes line filled with laundry, it proudly proclaimed, “The White Line is the Clorox Line.” 

All this was in bold on the front, but that was just the beginning.  On the back, the label continues in earnest, with Clorox being touted as good for cleaning, among other things, basins, bows, bathtubs, bottles, chopping blocks, coffee pots, crockery, cuspidors, and various other items throughout the alphabet. 

But there’s more.  After laundry instructions, the label moves onto pets, poultry and livestock uses, including directions for “…an antiseptic, deodorizing bath” for cats and dogs. Last, but not least, is the list of personal uses, which include:  making drinking water safe, cleaning dental plates, instructions for the use of Clorox to treat insect bites, scratches and burns.  From there it moves on to poison oak, ivy, sumac, ringworm and, of course, athlete’s foot.  The back label even offers help with, ahem, feminine needs.

The more I read, the more I was amazed—all this from a bottle of Clorox.

As ever, it has made me all the more curious.  If any of you want to look at these bottles, and for that matter, any of the other assorted memorabilia that decorates the offices of The Record, feel free to stop by. We love the company.  If you have any old product labels you are willing to share, or any information on Del Monte coffee, I especially would like to hear from you.

Now, if Folger’s will just call…

   Rewire your brain

By LAURA WELBORN

Rewiring your brain takes hard work.

More and more studies are showing that mindfulness and focused breathing techniques show a reduction in anxiety and depression.  Learning to witness and monitor depressed and anxious thoughts can help you manage them and be less prone to push the panic button.

 Mindfulness can actually reduce the activity of the genes that produce inflammation in the body.  Inflammation is how the body deals with pain and stress. When we can't control our reaction to pain or stress we can cause inflammation which affects our health. Mindfulness on areas of loving kindness and compassion for others can redirect and rewire our brains to better health.  

My own experiences of exposure to people who essentially transmit loving kindness and compassion are a personal testimony towards how much better I feel when I see them- it "makes my day."   Some of the things I must remind myself of so I can be that person who gives off loving kindness and compassion are:

"Sometimes you subconsciously dehumanize people you disagree with.  Be careful.  In our self-righteousness, we can easily become the very things we dislike in others.  Ultimately, the way we treat people we disagree with is a report card on what we’ve learned about love and compassion.  Every single person you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something.  Know this.  Respect this.  And be extra kind

Your response is always more powerful than your circumstance.  A tiny part of your life is decided by completely uncontrollable circumstances, while the vast majority of your life is decided by your responses.  Where you ultimately end up is heavily dependent on how you play the hands you’ve been dealt

Everything gets a bit uncomfortable when it’s time to change.  That’s just a part of the growth process.  Things will get better.  Be patient.

Patience is not about waiting.  Patience is the ability to keep a positive, focused attitude while working hard to move your life forward.

New, good habits don’t form overnight.  It takes roughly 66 days to form a habit.  So, for the next nine weeks, look at the bright side of your life, and you will rewire your brain.

Old patterns are hard to break.  Be aware.  Act consciously and consistently.  Don’t fall back into your old patterns.  Toxic habits and behaviors always try to sneak back in when you’re doing better.  Stay focused.

Sometimes it’s better to let go without closure.  Actions and behavior speak volumes.  Trust the signs you were given and gracefully press on.

If you always play the victim, you will always be treated like one.  Life isn’t fair.  But you don’t have to let the past define your future.  Try to take life day by day and be grateful for the little things.  Don’t get caught up in what you can’t control."  Marc and Angel Hack life blog inserts.

I miss the breakfast club that met at Woodhaven restaurant- Ted Brown, Gerald Lankford, Jim Swofford, to name a few.  They were my fix on loving kindness and compassion, now I can just hope to run into them and get a hug of kindness.

Laura Welborn, Mediator and Counselor.  laurawelborn1@gmail.com

      Part II: The Plague of Islamic Ideology—World Stability is at Stake

By EARL COX

Special for The Record

The Iran nuclear deal is once again making news.  Iran's leaders have carefully crafted their plan for worldwide domination in which the nuclear deal fit nicely.  A quick look at the basic tenets of Islam and relatively recent history reveals some interesting information and chilling parrallels with rogue regimes of the past.

Iran’s nuclear and missile programs, militant proxies (Hezbollah and others), and quest for expansion “from Tehran to the sea” through Lebanon, Iraq and Syria threaten not just Israel and America, but the world. Iran’s insidious ideology animates these threats.

Iranian mullahs have devised a peculiar brand of jihadist and sharia-rule—with a twist. Ayatollah Khomeini’s 1970 book Velayat-e Faqih (Governance of the Jurist) endows a Shiite faqih (Islamic scholar) with full political and religious powers, including rule over Shiites worldwide—and ultimately, global dominance. Khomeini conveniently granted himself the title “Imam,” and declared himself a stand-in for the 12th Imam (Mahdi—a messiah figure). His doctrine, now enshrined in the 1989 constitution, sanctions state-sponsored violent jihad, and “mandates global export of the same Islamic Revolution that brought the mullahs to power,” said Lt. Col. James G. Zumwalt, USMC (Ret.) The constitution’s preamble concludes with “the hope this century will witness the establishment of a universal holy government and the downfall of all others,” said security expert Richard Horowitz.

Shiites believe their Supreme Leader has power only until their Mahdi returns, an event that must be “triggered by world chaos,” followed by global Islamic rule, Zumwalt said. In a deviation from traditional Shiism, Iran’s mullahs believe man can be a catalyst of the chaos required for the Mahdi’s return, citing Israel’s destruction as the trigger. Iran’s nuclear program is a means to these ends. 

If history offers any lessons, then the parallels between Iran’s (and radical Islam’s) ideology, and Japanese State Shinto in World War II deserve consideration. The deadly assaults of Japan’s crazed banzai troops and kamikaze suicide pilots—most younger than 24—have significant parallels to radical Islamic “martyrs.” Kamikaze means “divine wind,” referring to a typhoon that wrecked an invading Mongolian fleet—attributed to the gods answering the Japanese emperor’s prayers, according to War History Online. Japan considered its emperor a sacred descendent of the ancient sun goddess Amaterasu–whose red-sun symbol is emblazoned on the Japanese flag. 

“The idea of the sacred imperial line descended from the sun goddess became a political dogma about 500 years ago,” said Ian Buruma, for The New York Times. The fertility cult Shinto was also cast as the national religion, with Amaterasu as its principal female deity, to “enforce unification and national identity.” State Shinto is a “contrived version of Japanese culture … turned into a religious cult for political reasons,” Buruma said. An example was Japan’s notoriously militant propaganda. Striking a similar tone, both Iranian and Palestinian leaders use religion to foment anti-Israel fervor under the banner of the “Al-Aqsa is in danger” campaign.

As Amaterasu’s descendant, the emperor was Shinto’s high priest, giving him “a divine right to rule not only Japan, but the world,” the BBC said. It also became official doctrine that since the Japanese descended from the gods, they were superior to all other races—chillingly familiar concepts in Nazism.

As head of the allied occupation, Gen. Douglas McArthur targeted State Shinto—the militaristic religious ideology that fueled Japanese aggression—but he allowed non-politicized “Shrine Shinto” to stand. According to the BBC, he attempted to deconstruct State Shinto by reforms, which, among others, severed religion and state; and implemented freedom of religion—which is protected by Israel, but rejected in Gaza and The West Bank. He also restructured Japan’s education system, including teaching manuals and textbooks—like calls for similar initiatives in Palestinian schools, which distort history and foment violence against Israel. MacArthur’s directives also rededicated Japanese national life to peace and democracy. 

Without addressing the long-term effectiveness of MacArthur’s reforms, his is an encouraging example of a leader who understood the central role that despotic religious ideology plays in conflict resolution, and who did something about it when given the chance. The Allies’ military superiority doubtless provided the leverage for positive change.

Since the concluding sentence of Iran’s constitution says its theocracy and ideological basis are “unalterable,” leverage and intervention are required. Rescinding and revising the nuclear deal is our best first step. World stability is at stake.

[memorylang]

Home for Christmas: Birth, Endings and Marriage | #18 | December 2019

I returned from Mongolia to the States for 12 days this winter! It’s the first of my three stories picking up from my adventures away.

With a confluence of reasons to see the States this year, plus some for China, this felt like the perfect Christmas journey. I open with Advent meeting my baby nephew, then Christmas among my family in Vegas before my travel to Reno (my college town) for a wedding and my return to Vegas. Then I left to China. 

Settling In: Stateside Once More

Having set a new record for days outside the U.S., my late-December return marked nearly seven months overseas. 

Upon returning to the state my family occupied, Nevada, I learned its population just passed 3 million. My state’s population nearly matched Mongolia’s! But with the Vegas Valley, its population hits nearly twice Mongolia’s capital. 

But as for temperatures, comparisons stop there. By the time I reached Vegas, I’d shed my puffy winter coats and stuffed them in my backpack. Vegas sat at a toasty 15°C (59°F), compared to Mongolia’s -30°C (-22°F). And Vegas friends said their weather felt cold!

Reunited in Vegas

My first days back at the house, caught up with my four siblings who reassembled. And I ate copious amounts of food, of which I’ll write a couple blog stories from now.

I would bring music, photos, some of my journals, travel souvenirs, Bibles and letters as keepsakes for my continued service in Mongolia. Special thanks to my 23-year-old brother for helping me through my college boxes in the garage. 

I love rainy days. They remind me of Mom, too, at times. 

My older brother gave me plenty tech support, including helping me get downtown to replace my Surface that’s been faulty since Dad bought it three years ago. (Free upgrade!) I also backed up files to cloud storage I could access from Mongolia. 

I also kicked up a K-Pop playlist with recommendations from friends and my 18-year-old youngest bro. The list used to just have songs I encountered at Kiwanis CKI events and a few from my 17-year-old Mongolian host sister. I felt needing K-Pop’s positive vibes and high-energy, as opposed to American pop’s tendency toward symping. Why dwell in darkness when I have the light?

But here’s the key reason I came back to Vegas early. I needed to sort through our late mother’s belongings. I’ll touch on this during the next blog story, about my return to China. Thank you to those who supported me through the sorting.

Baby Wally

I returned home for Christmas for a huge reason—to finally meet my nephew, Wally! 

Squishy baby Wally came from Ohio with my 42-year-old half-brother and my sister-in-law one night, the fourth week of Advent. 

Meeting them the next morning felt amazing. 

I’m an early riser, and his family was still on Eastern Standard Time. After finishing hard drive backups upstairs, I walked downstairs to the kitchen, where Wally stared at me from his rolling chair a long time. He was eight months old. 

I loved his marshmallow hands and how he babbled both incomprehensible murmurs I repeated back to him and vaguely word-seemingly things like, “dada.” I probably only held him a couple times, but we made up for that with how long others held him while he continued to gaze at me.

My brother said Wally really liked me. 

I mentioned a little how the toddlers at the orphanage, too, seemed fascinated by me. Someone somewhere told me babies, kittens and puppies must sense goodness in people. 

Christmas in America

Leading up to Christmas, my family attended Simbang Gabi, a Filipino Catholic celebration during Advent. Since Dad had my siblings and I come, we also got to see the Filipino family ours has evidently spent time with. It reminded me somewhat of the Feast of Santo Niño I attended three years ago in Reno. 

I loved getting to experience at a beautiful church the whole Mass in English—my first back in the States. The Filipino pastor gave a very Vegas homily, in how our vibrant Catholic community sets an example for this city. The Mass also featured a presider I recalled would sometimes say Mass at our church we’d attended since moving to Nevada a decade before. Afterward, we enjoyed a reception featuring copious amounts of Filipino food and music, per usual. 

Midnight Mass

As is Christmas tradition, my family attended Midnight Mass at church. But this year, my 20-year-old sister drove so we could attend carols early. Our music even included hymns from Afro-Caribbean traditions, in addition to choral classics. I recorded clips from caroling and shared with fellow Peace Corps Catholics and Mongolian friends. I wore my silver Mongolian дээл, since this could be the only year I’m back for Christmas while a Peace Corps Volunteer. 

During Mass, I remembered baby Wally when our new pastor spoke of baby Jesus. (Our past priest announced his relocation during my final Mass in the States seven months ago.) Anyway, babies are outstandingly helpless. They require others to survive and thrive. And humans seem biologically programmed to love and care about infants. 

Yet I considered Easter Vigil (my favorite Mass), too, since our Midnight Mass began with a hymn like, “The Exultant.” So I felt somber, considering what mankind one day does to who was once this poor infant. 

After Mass, I greeted a high school friend who’s stayed involved in Kiwanis Circle K International at UNLV and still sings in our local church’s choir. Like many, he felt astonished I could come home from Peace Corps but gleeful nonetheless. 

Full Families

On Christmas Day, my visiting siblings, my younger siblings and I continued the movie-going tradition, seeing, “Knives Out.” I found it delightful, with heartwarming heroes and a clever cat-and-mouse adventure with contemporary themes. I loved its art. Plus Craig and Evans were hilariously not playing James Bond and Captain America. 

That evening, our family had a wonderful dinner, with the Filipina family over. Unfortunately, my youngest brother decided to schedule for work that night, which aggravated Father. But, we still had a nice time. I like how my siblings’ ages merge well with their ages. (From oldest to youngest goes: their oldest sister, my older brother, me, their second oldest sister, my younger sister, my youngest sister, their youngest sister, my youngest brother.) 

Plus, my half-brother, his wife and their son also attended. He sincerely thanked the other family’s mother that our dad had someone new in his life. I smiled, agreeing. It reminded me the speech he gave years ago in getting to know my mom. 

The guest family’s oldest and second oldest sisters brought their boyfriends, and my older bro brought his girlfriend, too. We’d such a large Christmas dinner that we used the kitchen island counter space for food, then the dining room and ping pong tables for eating. 

Following our meal, we exchanged gifts I’ll cover when I describe what I brought back to Mongolia.

Returning to Reno

After Christmas and further friend adventures (I’ll cover in a couple blogs from now), I flew up to Reno, my undergraduate city of four years. We’d a wedding coming.

I felt amazed to boomerang from my high school city to college town and back before my return to Asia. Even in Vegas’ airport, I saw college friends I hadn’t seen in years! Rather, they saw me, while I video called my professional mentor. They joked that they would have thrown Chex Mix at me, but they weren’t sure we had that kind of relationship. I would have loved it, haha.

On the flight, my friends gifted me two palm-fulls of Chex Mix. I felt elated. After take-off, I felt pleasantly surprised to hear and understand small talk around me. People behind me chatted about EDM music careers. From the window on my right, I saw how Nevada’s snowy mountains looked steeper than Mongolia’s. I continued rehearsing my wedding reading I copied down, Romans 12:1-2, 9-18. 

As the flight neared landing, I gazed out the window and saw the familiar Sparks hill where the house my college friends and I rented stands. After landing, I felt weird somewhat recognizing the faces of uni students around in the airport. With a Reno-Sparks population over 500 thousand, though, “The Biggest Little City” stands five times larger than the “big” city where I serve in Mongolia. 

Here to Serve

Just as I disembarked my plane began a funeral service across town for the mother of someone close to us all. While I didn’t have to come, I wanted to. I remembered how touched I felt by those who came to Mom’s funeral, even if they only met her briefly. 

When I arrived, somewhat dazed, in the lobby, the soon-to-be-weds spotted me from the pews and walked out to greet me. They brought me to sit with them, beside other parishioners from our church I hadn’t been with in seven months. As the eulogies concluded, and our priest blessed the casket with the family, we sang together.

I felt at ease among such close friends. The service felt a warm reintroduction to my college town community. For, my trip home wasn’t meant quite for me. I meant to support.

First Wedding Party

That night, I reunited with and met the many of our wedding party for rehearsals. Rehearsals went smoothly. Afterward, the wedding party enjoyed pizza and wings with the bride and groom. I felt gleeful to catch up with some of my favorite faithful folks from my final years at university.

Between wedding rehearsals and Sunday Mass, I reunited with the choir I knew and loved singing with four years, including my confirmation sponsor. Even our instrumentalist who’d since left for graduate school returned to play. Just like old times. 

That weekend, I also attended my first bachelors’/bachelorettes’ party. I felt much more relaxed among these people I’d known a while. I enjoyed the added benefit of having no college coursework to distract me from being present to those there. I felt honored to partake in the wedding tradition among such fun people.  

Christian Love

The Monday morning of the wedding, one of our choir members had a family emergency, and I received the appointment to cantor our psalm, “To You O God, I Lift Up My Soul.” So I started rehearsing from the morning-of. 

I wore the most eclectic outfit, including a normal pair of black slacks I’d known since high school in Vegas (before 2015), the golden silk shirt I bought in Beijing the 2017 week I first met Chinese relatives and the black suit jacket I bought in my Mongolian city for Teachers’ Day 2019. What a coincidence they asked me to wear golden colors, a suit and something traditional if I liked. These came together with my Reno boutonnière to form, for me, among my most meaningful outfits. 

As the hours neared showtime, our jazz cue began, and I transitioned from greeting guests at the door and choir rehearsal to assembling for the procession in. I walked in with a close friend, who I loved chatting with. I especially loved the ringbearers with the rings on their sabers. Most special, our wedding party had front-row seats to witnessing the bride’s beautiful entry and seeing the heartfelt betrothals. I felt like such a cheerleader.

I stepped up to the ambo for what the groom called his favorite psalm. I prayed for the Holy Spirit to let me be the vessel. I sang with a little soul, yay. Seeing the couple’s and my choir members’ cheer gave me strength all the way to my high-note finish. 

Then I closed the songbook I borrowed from the Grand Knight, prepared the mic once more, probably gave a curt smile, and began the reading from the letter of St. Paul to the Romans. 

In Mongolia’s capital for the Peace Corps conferences, one night at dinner, one of my Catholic friends asked me my favorite Bible verse. I said, "Oh, I love these readings from Saint Paul, since he was my confirmation Saint. And reading his readings feels like reading a cosmic ancestor of mine. Especially, 'Do not conform yourselves to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind'" (Romans 12:2). After that, I went to help my student and a teacher apply for summer fellowships to the U.S. that were due the next days. After finishing those a few hours, I finally opened the bride-to-be’s message to see exactly which Paul reading she sent me. As I got midway through reading it aloud to a friend, I realized this was Romans 12 and went, "OH MY GODDDD."

What a sacrament. I felt great hope that taking my time with relationships will lead to extraordinary joy. Choir members congratulated me on an amazing psalm. After Mass, our priest commended me as having delivered the best reading of Romans 12:1-2, 9-18 he’d ever heard. I felt stunned. 

The wedding reception felt wonderful. I spent most of my time with the fencing group. I enjoyed their fellowship, and they enjoyed my energy. I’d spend my days up to New Year’s among the newlyweds and their family still.

Las Vegas and Nevada Grow on Me

Given the subtle ways Nevada reminds me of Mongolia, I felt myself starting to feel more at-home in the Sagebrush State than when I left. From Vegas to Reno and around.

I used to loathe telling people I’m from Vegas, actually. I usually note it as the city where my family lives. But, after seven months in Mongolia, I feel like even Vegas has its charm. Hearing Panic! At The Disco on a mall radio felt right at home. 

Vegas lights appeal to many from many places—especially Asia, reports say. And that’s special. Mom liked this city.

Up next is my New Year’s 2020 experience, followed by my return to Mongolia through Beijing, China.  You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[alliebruns-blog]

Mongol 100 - Day 3 -“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it”

The final morning we woke up in what looked like a lycra refugee camp. There were 7 if us in the Ger PLUS the Fire Fairy who had been keeping us warm all night, and we were all freezing. The mattresses laid directly on the floor meant that the cold was creeping in from the floor. Breakfast was bought to us in ‘bed’ (what a treat) and was something made of tomato and some other unidentified objects mashed together with slightly less frozen bread, but God was it delicious. And there were biscuits, so many biscuits. I stuffed as many as I could in my pack because biscuits don't freeze do they? (Spoiler - they do).

Lycra refugee camp breakfast in bed.....

Today was the longest day - the run back to base camp ending at the frozen ships stationed at the edge of the lake. It was around 36 miles and I was determined to get through it. We got up, packed our packs (difficult when you have 7 people faffing in one Ger) and packed our rucksacks onto the vehicles and headed out to where we finished the night before. At this point I was quite breezy......

ICE FLOW, NOWHERE TO GO......

Then off we trotted. Again G-Law and Darren led the pack with myself and Lee behind them, trotting along across ALL the different types of ice. Today there was the option of riding the bike, and we decided that we would put the person at the back on the bike to ride to the front and then send the bike to the back of the pack on a pony and start again - to make sure everyone could keep up with the pace. I did NOT want to get on the bike, which led to me being alone for very long periods of the time. Lee DID get on the bike. 

Bike wanker...

I couldn’t listen to music because my headphones were frozen, and after a few hours I began to feel the familiar feelings of hopelessness and depression that creep in when I am tired and left to my own devices for too long.

I think a lot of people think I find this running stuff easy, but I don’t.  I’m not the fastest, strongest or best runner. I don't win things. There are dark times in long races - I remember about 6 miles from the end of the Autumn 100 I actually had a cry because I was so sad it was almost over, I hurt so much and I couldn’t see the point in what I was doing. Plus Lee kept trying to feed me cheese fucking sandwiches and listening to John Farnham. At the end of the day, nobody cares if I achieve this or anything else. Nobody else cares but me. And that’s the important part. The fights I have in my head like this are important because I need to win them to survive. And if I can win them, even the smallest ones, it’s another step forward.

Long stretches on my own. Not so fun. 

I remember just standing completely on my own, looking out onto the lake stretching before me for what seemed like forever. I tried to take it in, and commit how beautiful and quiet it was to memory and how lucky I should feel. I was sad it was coming to an end, but there was also an overwhelming sense of relief. I was tired. I felt depressed and deflated, so I refused to eat at the aid station and snapped at lee when he tried to warm me up. I was very hungry. I lost almost three quarters of a stone over the course of this week and I wasn’t taking on fluid because all the fucking fluid was frozen. My gels and shot bloks were rock hard, and even when I had defrosted them down the front of my sports bra, they made me feel sick. 

But I kept going forward. I wasn’t getting on that bike. I started playing number games - run for 200 steps and walk for 100. God, I hate that game.

Playing the count the steps game was pretty dull. Ice looked good though. 

After what seemed like days on my own, I finally saw G-Law and Jim up ahead so I started to make the effort to catch up. Jim had been skating the whole way and Darren had gone on ahead of G-Law because he’s epic and can do running really good. I eventually managed to reach them, and it was awesome to have some people to talk to. I think G-Law could tell I was suffering, and it was then that he took on role of carer without me even asking.

I’ve known G-Law for about a year. He’s a member of the Bad Boy Running group, and we take the piss out of him for being a triathlete, because we all know they are precious wankers who basically do a sport that is code for cheating and get iron man tattoos. I’ve never really spoken to him at length when we’ve not been drunk post race, but what he did for me that day I will never forget. He showed such amazing kindness in supporting me through the last 10 or so miles and he didn’t have to do that. I was over running, so over it. I was running a bit and then walking more than running and it was getting dark. I didn’t want to be pulled off the ice but I was so tired it was hard to motivate myself to run. I couldn’t see then end and had no idea how far we had to go. We asked a few times and got estimates from the drivers and guides of between 7K and 12K depending on who you asked. This estimation game went on for miles. The lake was just going on forever and we were the last people out there. My watch was dead and I had not idea how far we had come.

We bumped into Lee who was even more into walking than me;  he eventually got on a pacing pony and trotted off. G-Law kept me talking. He was funny and kind and we talked about everything from depression (Him: “I don’t know anyone with depression” Me: “I bet you fucking do they just never talk about it”) to races we wanted to do, to work and home life and I was pleasantly distracted. Because he is such a good egg, he had been carrying a plastic bottle of his own piss with him for the whole day (don’t pee on the sacred lake!) He was using it as and when he needed to avoid going on the lake. It had now turned into a delicious wee slushy that he was carrying in the front of his pack. My favourite moment of that day was hearing his yelps when he had to use it, and obviously misjudged the depth of the icy wee. Poor G-Law.

Views on the final stretch....

Sun’s going down.....shiiiiiit....

Every corner we turned, there was still no end in sight. The sun was going down and I was anxious and cold. Everything hurt and I was excruciatingly tired. Still G-Law kept me moving, running a little and then walking, not putting pressure on me to do anything that I couldn’t do. He’s much, much fitter than me so this must have been very frustrating for him. And then, suddenly, like a mirage, the ships came into view. I was overjoyed. I took one last look behind me at the pink sky over the islands, and we trotted forward, crossing the”finish” line together. I was so relived and happy, and there were the rest of the team clapping us in. It was magical. And I just wanted a beer. And a sleep.

THE END!

That night we were back at our first camp. The adventure was over. We had dinner with the Mongolian team who once again astonished us with their hospitality and good humour and then retired to our fully heated sheds for a good nights sleep before making the trip back to Ulan Bator for the Ambassadors reception, a shower and a real bed. I made friends with a stray dog that night, and the boys told me off. (Lee: “Now he associates you with food!” Me: (Overjoyed) “I KNOW!!!!”)

So we were done. I have been home now for 2 weeks, but I don't think the enormity of this adventure has actually sunk in. The dust has settled, the pictures have gone up and it’s back to normal. But it’s not back to normal, because I have learnt so much from that week on the ice, and some of the things I learnt will genuinely go on to help me change my life. I have learnt once again that I am stronger than I give myself credit for. I have learnt that the kindness of strangers knows no bounds. I have learnt that I am good in a team and that it doesn’t matter what job you do or your social status or what you look like, if your heart is strong and kind, you will be able to form lasting relationships. I have learnt I need to keep running and training to battle the demons in my head, but that I will win the battle. I have learnt that it’s OK to lean on people for help (and warmth, sorry Lee and Darren!). I have learnt that sometimes it’s OK to just be you, and that is enough.  

A week or so after I got home I got an email from Jim, the head of Rat Race and our intrepid skater. It was one of the kindest emails I have ever received. It said this.

“I am sure you know but you are a machine. I know you were hell-bent on covering the whole thing on foot. The way you kept going out there and just stuck your head down, you became the first woman to do it (that we know about but hey, I am pretty sure that is not in doubt!). I know it was not all about ‘being the first’ and we all saw it for what it was, which was a brilliant adventure, but just for the record I wanted to say that your performance was quite remarkable. Really. I hope you are royally proud and really feel the substance of what you did out there”

Sometimes it takes someone else to make you stop and think for a minute and I AM proud of myself, and my team, and David our Sandbaggers guide and his team, for everything they did for us. I am sure that this is just the start of the story for me. There’s a big old world out there and someone needs to run round it. For now, I hope whoever reads this takes from it strength, spirit and the knowledge that YOU are amazing and YOU can achieve anything. Cheesy but true. 

The Mongol 100 is now open for registration here. 

That’s the album cover sorted......

Pals forev's.....