#we got it with the $1000 gift card he gave us at a dinner

[tittyinfinity]

My super nice water bottle broke beyond repair and I can't replace it because my mom doesn't have her company discount anymore and this cup costs $60😭

[thatssonanii]

Birthday Girl

Bloodline Family Series

Even though Simba complained about Kennedie, he loves her so he wanted to make her birthday as special as possible. He started to complain that her birthday is literally seven days after Valentines Day but he sucked it up just for her and accepted the fact he was going to have to be mushy twice in a weeks time.

Teddy ended up going back home so his dad could fill out his transfer papers from school. He planned to finish his senior year of high school in Florida with Simba. But before he went back he helped Simba plan what he was going to do. Usually he picked Kennedie up for school and got breakfast before going but he had Porshe take her. As far as Kennedie knew, he had an appointment and wasn't coming.

After second period, Kennedie walked with Porshe to their next period with a slight pout on her face. Porshe bumped her shoulder.

"Girl, it's your birthday. You're finally eighteen. What's with the face?"

Kennedie shook her head, thanking a classmate who wished her a happy birthday as they passed her. "I havent talked to Simba at all today. Last time I heard from him was last night when he told me he wasn't picking me up."

Porsche bit back her smile, "Well he did say he had an appointment, Ken. Maybe he was nervous or something and forgot."

"But how? I put those annoying reminders on his phone that he hates," she pouted walking into their next class.

Porshe laughed loudly earning a glare and pout from her best friend. She tried to calm her laughter as they walked through the classroom to get to their seats.

"Maybe that's why then. You know how he gets when he's annoyed. Teddy's the same way."

Kennedie sulked in her desk, "But it's my birthday."

Porshe shook her head at her best friend and pulled her phone out to text Simba without the teacher seeing. Simba was standing in Party City when he got Porshe's text. He couldn't help but smile imagining the pout on his girlfriend's face.

Simba waited for the associate to come to the balloon counter and gave a small smile. "Hey, I came to pick up my balloons."

She smiled politely, "And what's your name?"

"Simba."

After a while, she gave him his balloons and he was out of the store headed to his aunt's bakery to pick up the cake he ordered for her. When he walked in he saw his mom and both aunties behind the counter, he walked behind the counter to hug them.

"What's up? The cake ready, TK?"

Kandice smirked at him and pointed to the counter on her right. "Its over there in the box."

He laughed a little, "Why you lookin at me like that?"

"Same reason we're all looking at you," Trinity teased pinching his cheeks.

Apryl laughed, "Your mean ass being all nice. Took the day off from school to make sure she has a good birthday. Being all secretive and cute."

Shaking his head, Simba went to grab the large cake box so he could leave. "Ima see yall later. I got one more stop to make before she gets outta school."

"Uhuh. I'll see you at home. I got your outfit for later."

Simba thanked his mom, said his goodbyes and left the bakery. After making the last stop to drop the cake, her gifts and most of the balloons off, he sped a bit to get to his high school before school let out. Parking in front on the sidewalk where the student parking lot is, Simba got out with her balloons and roses and leaned against his black challenger waiting for her to come out.

Porshe saw Simba's text and started to coax Kennedie to put a bit of pep in her step.

"Why you rushing me?"

"Cause it's the end of the day," she sassed as they walked towards the exit with their classmates, "And I am ready to go. It's thr weekend, girl. My Teddy bear is coming home today."

When they got outside, Kennedie didn't pay any attention to her classmates grouping up a bit and stopping to talk because they did it every day. After a nudge from Porsche, Kennedie looked up from her phone looking directly at her boyfriend and smiled.

Simba saw his girlfriend smile and smiled back. Her smiles were contagious for him. She walked quickly down the steps with Porsche behind her and hugged Simba.

"Baby, I thought you forgot!"

He laughed hugging her back as best as he could then kissed her. "How could I forget my girl birthday? Especially when she put seven alarms on my phone."

Laughing, Kennedie pulled away them looked at her best friend.

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew, Ken. If I really thought he forgot your birthday, I would've cussed him out by now. But have fun, call me whenever you get back home."

Porsche hugged them both then jogged to her Chevy sonic. Some of their classmates lingered to watch the couple. Simba passed her the balloons and her roses.

The smile on her face grew even wider.

"My favorite colors! Is that money, Josiah?"

He sucked his teeth, "Aight now, ima let that slide cause its your birthday. But yeah it is."

Kennedie counted the roses then stared at him, "There's ten roses."

"I know that," he laughed.

"That's $1000, Simba."

"I know that too," he nodded opening the passenger side door for her, "Get in, baby. Let me get them balloons."

As they rode through the streets, Kennedie kept a smile on her face. She took pictures and videos for her social media accounts. Usually would complain about her doing it but he joined in for her laughing and smiling. He let her play her favorite music as well.

Thirty minutes later, Simba pulled up to the valet of the Four Seasons Hotel Disney Resort. He hopped out with his engine running and opened Kennedie's door helping her out them grabbed her balloons out the back. The valet worker handed Simba a ticket before he entered the hotel.

This was the stop he made prior to getting Kennedie from school. Jey had met him here to check in, since Simba was only eighteen Jey put the room in his name.

The couple went straight to the hotel and up to the tenth floor. Opening the room door, Simba allowed her to go in first and him behind her. Setting her stuff down, Simba approached her from behind putting his hands over her eyes.

"Keep walking," he whispered in her ear.

She laughed nervously, "You not about to kill me or nothing are you?"

He laughed, "Man just keep walking till I tell you to stop."

He led her into the bedroom and took his hands from her eyes. When he didn't hear a reaction, he peaked around at her. He laughed loudly when he saw her squeezing her eyes shut.

"Man, open ya damn eyes, baby. Ain't shit here gon scare you."

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her hands went to her mouth as she looked around the room.

"Simba," she said touching the cards attached to the balloons, "This is beautiful. Thank you."

"You welcome, Doll. I'm glad you like it."

"What are these attached to the balloons?"

"I wrote down all the reasons I love you, all the things that I love about you and my favorite memories with you."

"Awwee, Simba. I love you."

Kennedie moved to hug him and cried softly into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight and rubbed her back.

"Love you too, Kenni. Now stop that crying big baby."

She pushed him playfully taking a step back. "Not funny."

"Aight aight," he laughed, "But um I talked to my parents and your mom about us staying so this is us for the weekend. As you can tell it's a Disney resort cause your childish ass loves Mickey and shit. I got us passes for the whole weekend but tonight we have a dinner date and fireworks to see. How that sound?"

Kennedie smiled at her boyfriend still wiping her face, "It sounds amazing, Simba."

"Aight, we don't gotta do nothin that's not why I brought you here. It was just something for us to get away and to be closer to Disney. Aight?"

Kennedie nodded starting to look around the room.

"Cool. Your mom packed your bag and I had my mom pick some stuff out for you, it's all in the closet. Your makeup and all that other shit is in the bathroom," He explained pointing as he went, "You go ahead and start getting ready its three now and dinner is at seven. I'll be back by six thirty."

She frowned, "Where you going?"

He kissed her forehead then started to back away, "Hope you didn't think I was done with the surprises, baby. You'll see when I get back."

Before she could stop him, Simba was gone and she stood looking at all the balloons with a goofy smile on her face. Of course she took pictures and read the notes while she sat on Facetime with Porsche

[swedenandbeyond]

July 1 AM- July 3 Mid afternoon

After breakfast we headed out to the Olympic Museum, a short walk from our hotel,we though. It was a bit longer than we anticipated but we didn't have any problems.  It was an interesting museum and overwhelmingly about the Norwegian Olympic team and the Olympics in general. After that we heading towards the Olympic Park and got to what was the athletes Village they have been turned into an apartment complex and hotel. We were going to walk up to the upper reaches of the park and perhaps take a ski lift to the top but it proved to be more of an uphill trek than we thought so we just went back to the hotel after having a lunch break near the park. We took the car and drove to the Norwegian Road Museum, which is free,  We wanted to look at history of tunnel making in Norway since we have driven through 500 miles of so of tunnels. We were lucky and got her own private guide because we were the only speaking English speaking people there. She was a nice young lady who lives in Oslo and is working there as a summer job.  She's actually mining engineer student who will be mining minerals around Norway, one of which is a black granite that went pulverised turns completely white and is the basis for a lot of coloring like paints and materials.  It’s titanium oxide. She gave us a detailed tour of 240 meter long tunnel that basically goes from using wood to heat the rocks so they crack open all the way along to the modern drilling machines that are used to drill large tunnels. I explained to her that the wood was making the water “boil” in the rocks and the steam in breaking them open. She wasn't aware that that was the process period. She thanked me for teaching her something. In the 18th century,it took a lot of wood and it was really dangerous to breathe all the smoke but they did what they had to do make tunnels, because you just couldn’t build roads normally in such ricky conditions along the fjords. They kept developing better methods and ways to reduce black lung disease because they were drilling through silica and even asbestos rocks. It was quite an eye opener because for many years they had no ventilation shafts to bring clean air into the tunnels.  This day was a relaxing, recharge the batteries day, so we went back to the hotel to have coffee and cake, which turned out this time to be a single waffle maker and several jams and jellies to put on your waffle.  we waited a bit long one family to make my three waffles,  one for each person and we made a single waffle for two of us while a Dutch lady was waiting for us to finish. We had a very short conversation but didn't sit together.  That evening at dinner on the second trip to the buffet I asked the Dutch couple to join us for the rest of the meal.  We had a good long conversation. They have travelled all over America and parts of Canada. In one trip they drove over 7000 miles in 35 days and saw much of the west coast, including,Arizona, Washington state, Idaho and Oregon  They have seen many  national parks.  This trip was in 1977.we talked for at least an hour and a half maybe longer. they have children living in America and Germany.I gave them my card in case they come back and they said they can’t come back to America because of the man we have as president. I did not get into a long discussion. I just said well he's our president and we can vote the “bum” out in  three more years, if we want to. I gave them my card anyway and Peter gave me his. He's a retired comptroller and his wife had to take over her father's car dealership and repair shop when she was 20 because he died suddenly of cancer.  She built it up for 20 years and her two younger brothers who became of age at that time took over and continued to run the business. Her portion of the buyout was apparently enough for her to do what she wanted to do. She started to, and is still, volunteering to coordinate people going to stay in elderly homes at night.  It’s all volunteer work.  She still does it and says she probably always will. We said goodbye after dinner because we had to get up early and drive to Oslo to turn in our car.

July 2

We got to the airport using GPS and dead reckoning.  After returning the car, we went into the terminal to find a cab to our hotel. Luckily for us, a family was departing that day and rode the elevator with us. They told us to go to the information Booth and get a fixed price taxi because it might cost over 1000 krone if we just picked a taxi out of the line.  Sometimes life just hands you a gift without you asking. We did and a taxi came that had the number on our ticket. We got to our hotel only 699 Krone.  We were very early so we got an open room and walked around a little bit for some sightseeing.  We a couple of options for dinner selected a place near the hotel  This restaurant had biggest, most complete Caesar salad we have ever seen.  It had three small chicken breast portions,  perfectly prepared and I would say at least a quarter pound or more of bacon with the right amount of dressing and croutons. It was delicious and was paired perfectly with a good pilsner.  There was a group of Jehovah Witnesses attending a convention in Oslo sitting at a table beside us, three of them were from Alabama.  One couple was from Norway and one gentleman lives a thousand kilometres north of the Arctic Circle.  We talked a little bit, took some pictures and headed back to the hotel.  They didn't even try to convert us. The room we had was very small and I wasn't sure it was what we had paid for because she gave us something that was available before traditional check-in time.  

July 3

I went down in the morning to tell him we had booked and paid for a king room and I wanted to know if we had gotten what we paid for.  The on duty clerk was very helpful and said most of the rooms were queen size and that's what we had last night.  I said I'd booked a king room and wondered if we could have one of those today.   After a  leg]lengthy, discussion I found out that the king-size room is the same size as a queen bed room only with a king bed which made less total space.  He said he would work on it when he his boss came in and we could check back after breakfast.  They said the king and queen size rooms are the same.  If we wanted a bigger bed, we could move next door to a king bed.  I explained that it wasn't the size of the bed especially but it was the size of the room which was too small and that I thought we had paid for a larger room. It turns out booking confirmation haad no square footage on the size of the room.  They finally said they can give us a larger room, but it will be 500 krones extra, per day. I said no, I don't want to do that.  They spoken with a bit in Norwegian and said how about 300 for an executive room and I said ok.   It's really a suite with the couch, a larger bathroom, really nice coffee maker etc for only $35 more per night. I told her I liked her negotiating skills because she new 300 Krones for something empty was better than 500 krones and she has an empty room. It is a really good deal for us and we moved right after breakfast.  I'm posting this now before we go on our evening cruise in the fjord with a prawn buffet dinner.  I'll post more tomorrow about today's activities and try to get some pictures uploaded as well.

[hellowallflowerfriend]

Dare to DREAM

“Those who have the privilege to know have the duty to act.” - Albert Einstein

    I first met a person without documentation when I was in high school. I was carrying hot, silver trays of pizza alongside her, sweat dripping off my brow, calling out a diner’s name with increasing urgency. We made eye contact, a quick word, as we hustled through all five dining sections. Once free of our burning delivery, we servers frantically rubbed our hands, hoping there wouldn’t be blisters following our quest to deliver food to an absorbed dinner party. We did not talk about the guest’s laughter, “Oh, that’s me! Hope you didn’t pass me too many times! Ha-ha-ha!” 

    We both waited tables every weekend together, no matter the holiday, no matter the weather, no matter the game we were missing or birthday we weren’t celebrating. We grimaced through cursing customers, kept our lips closed through suspect behavior in the back of the house, and kept our noses mostly down.

     But, there was a separation between us, large enough to be a schism. Even though we scraped gum off of the underside of tables side-by-side, even though we both swept away the greasy napkins and half-eaten pizza slices our peers or peers’ parents dropped and didn’t bother to pick up, my coworker seemed so much older than me. Don’t get me wrong, she was beautiful, and she looked her age, but she carried herself with a matter-of-fact-ness that I had only seen in adults up to that point. She seemed a little more reserved, less likely to engage in silly teenage behavior like truth-or-dare, or prank phone-calling a crush at a sleepover.

    I remember when I came in to apply for the job, eating a salad and some wings with some friends, that freedom in sitting at the table that I so took for granted at the time. I had not told any of my friends, but I was eating free lunch at the school and was applying for the job so I could buy some soccer cleats. My dad had stopped paying child support, and if I couldn’t get those shoes from my parents, then I sure as heck was going to find a way. After all, I had college to plan for, and the more athletics, clubs, leadership positions, and awards I could put on my application, the better my hard-earned GPA would look.

    At this point, I was, “passing,” as cut from the same cloth as my wealthier, higher-achieving friends. We still had the house and the nice car, and I knew how to bargain shop and find nice-looking things at thrift stores. I paid my friend to give me rides to and from soccer, gave treats to friends who were able to give me a ride to or from work, and managed to save up enough money to pay for my first semester of books out-of-pocket in college.

    I remember posting to Facebook about which college I decided to go to, using waived SAT fees and application fees along the way. I looked for my coworker’s brother’s post about college: he killed it in Honors Chemistry, and I knew he had a pretty GPA. But, the post never happened. His older sister, despite her beautiful singing voice, her awesome grades, her maturity, her ability to ALWAYS BE WORKING… Lord, that girl could work… She sort of disappeared too.

    So I began to wonder. Here I am, rubbing shoulders with kids who drive better cars than I could even entertain the idea of purchasing for myself, given as gifts from parent-s-. Here I am, moaning to myself that I have to go to work after classes and follow with homework. Here I am, biting my tongue as I admit that I can’t afford to go out to dinner, and my friend asks, “Why don’t you just ask your parents?” It’s not that I was ashamed, it just wasn’t worth the awkward response I would get in reply. As hard as this is, begging the student aid employees to help me apply for another loan, because now with working 40-50 hours of an unpaid internship, I can’t afford to work 15-20 hours a week on top. As hard as this all is, being the person who is “passing,” in this world I feel I don’t fully belong in, this world of new sundresses for every football game, this world of pledging to organizations that have monthly fees, this world of blonde hair and Rayban sunglasses… I am still here.

    And one day, I realized why my coworker smiled less, worked harder, and kept to herself. She was not going to leave this life like I got to. I waited my last table about one year and two months ago. She is still scrubbing, biting her tongue, burning her hands, on her feet for hours, having no healthcare, not being able to buy glasses like I once was unable to… and on top of that, she may not be able to live here much longer.

    My friend is able to stay here in America because of DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, passed by President Obama through an executive order. This is supposed to have been because the DREAM (Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors) Act was not being passed through Congress.

    Let me tell you something. I have, in the jobs where I have sweated most, been yelled at most, been treated the least like a human, have walked my legs numb… in these jobs, I have met all the non-citizen second-generation people I know. I have met these people who moved here as children. I myself was born in Ohio, but if someone told me I had to move back tomorrow, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I would lose my job, have to say goodbye to friends and family I hold dear, and God knows how I would be able to finance a new life in this new state.

    Now imagine this in an entirely different country.

    In this country, people may speak a language you heard around the house occasionally, but may not know as well as English. You do not know where the safe parts of the city are, where the cheapest rent is, where the most honest employers can be found. You may not know the culture, the religion, the societal norms as well here. You do not call this place home.

    The place you call home will employ you, but only in jobs where there is little to no room for growth. Landscaper. Housekeeper. Waitress. Receptionist if you’re lucky. Some of these jobs will pay you under the table, but it will likely be a little less than what a “”””normal”””” worker would be paid, because after all, who can you tattle-tale to? And don’t worry, no matter how hard you work your ass off, no matter how seriously you take school, no matter how well-rounded, well-spoken, intelligent, kind, and good you are… you sure as hell can’t go to school. Look at how hard it was for me, and I had federal aid on my side. Tell me whose mother or father can afford to send his or her son to college on landscaping or housekeeping or construction wages.

    As a friend to some of these individuals, I am enraged. How can my friends continue to suffer? DACA is the bare minimum a person deserves in this life. DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals,) allows a child who immigrated here with his parents without papers to stay in America. DACA lets these individuals stay here, but at the cost of their own human rights. The right to fair and equal pay to peers. The right to healthcare offered through one’s career. The right to apply for federal monetary aid. The right for education to serve its intended purpose as THE GREAT EQUALIZER, meaning that if one works hard in school, s/he may use this hard work to pursue further education.

    My friends did not choose to come here without papers. My friends did not ask to toil their lives away. My friends did not ask to drive every two years to an office, to stand in line, to be shuffled through like cattle and stamped off as, “okay to continue to work,” as they obtain permits for their less-than careers that they know, in another life, they could have done better than.

    I did some research on how much it costs to obtain citizenship for one person in America. In 2017, the fee for ONE individual is $745. For a green card, it can cost about $1000, including fees. If someone is willing to leave all their family behind in pursuit of a better life, do you think they are able to afford this? If someone is willing to come here without following the proper steps, fleeing something or escaping poverty or suffering in some way, they live their lives as slaves to the land so that their children may have a better life. There is no luxury in being a person without papers.

    So Mother or Father suffers to obtain basic needs for the family, working hard hours, only for the cycle to REPEAT ITSELF despite said son- or daughter’s honest, hard work. The cycle repeats itself despite the fact that this son or daughter could literally not give consent to the move, and the son or daughter could not afford to live on his or her own.

    My fellow Americans, I think we can do better than DACA. I believe we can do better than letting children who were brought here stay here. I think we can give my friends, these humans who are worth so much more, have the basic rights that every documented American here reaps. I never chose to be American, just as my second-generation immigrant friends never chose not to be. The difference between us and me is that I have the right to go to college without paying the entire tuition out-of-pocket each month. I have the right to visit the hospital and know that my job offers benefits, so I will be okay. Myself, I am a DREAM-er, and my dream is to see my friends SB, SH, CR, JB, O(?), A(?) and VR have *half* the privilege I have inherited in my life. Maybe, just maybe, if I DREAM big enough, one day I’ll see their names finally written on that diploma they always deserved but were never allowed to receive.