Rhaenyra Targaryen + Wardrobe in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON S1

*me reaping* i know i for sure did not sow this much no way all this was me

I thought I wanted it.

ABBOTT ELEMENTARY, 2.05

TIL that the English word “Lord” in the sense of the head of an estate comes from an Old English word of Germanic origins, hlāfweard, later hlāford, later lord. 

Normally I wouldn’t remark on my romps through etymology, but “hlafweard” is a compound of hlaf, or loaf, and weard, which means guardian (see also Ward or Warden, etc). Meaning that when you call someone a lord you are calling him an esteemed keeper of the bread. 

HEY THERE BREADBOX PETER WIMSEY. LOAF GUARD PALPATINE. BREAD CLIP VETINARI. 

Lady also derives from hlaf, but in this case hlafdige or bread kneader. She makes the bread, he monitors it. Women have to do all the work as usual. 

Now, the reason I was looking this up was that I wanted to develop a gender-neutral analogue to lord/lady; there are analogues already out there naturally, but the Shivadh must be different and anyway I didn’t like the ones I’d seen suggested online. 

Given that the origins of Lord and Lady aren’t all that strongly gendered anyway (they’re about what the person does, not what their gender is), I decided that if a woman is a bread-kneader and a man is a bread-guarder, a nonbinary person should be A BREAD EATER, which would be Hlafetan.  

Thus I present to you the gender-neutral analogue to Lord or Lady: Ledan.  

grown woman who has had 84356728292 periods: what are these symptoms I’m experiencing

No Sign of Life at the Villa

Before I write about pretty much anything, I have to journal first. No matter the genre or the length, I have to sit down with actual pen and paper and put it all out there before any shape forms for the story. And when I sat down to journal about the two weeks I spent in the Spanish countryside, I realized it was kind of a shitty situation. Hannah, Tessa, and I heard back from our first and only Workaway less than twelve hours before we had to get there. Trasierra was a villa turned hotel, nestled in the hills about two and a half hours north of Seville. The late reply meant we had to find a way to get refunds for the Airbnb and bus tickets we had bought when we thought we were suddenly without accommodation for two weeks. When we got there we realized that the full time workers didn't speak English. Our rooms were cold and terribly insulated. Between the three of us we had one orange and half a baguette. Our host, George, was supposed to be back to the villa around nine that night. Around midnight we gave up and went to bed. The next morning around noon we finally met George. He was perfectly polite, and about 70% twiggy legs. He spoke with the kind of British accent that makes you want to discuss "the rabble" and over forty year old scotch. With his nice pants that never went past his ankles and the leather elbow patches on his navy blazer, he looked exactly how you expect someone to look if they own a Spanish villa turned hotel. We called him Mr. Trasierra because we never actually learned his last name. He gave us free rein of the whole property, including a huge pantry full of lovely things like chocolate and pasta and oatmeal. The three of us spent all day exploring the villa and seeing no one. Every room was full of books, which we picked over and took back of our own rooms so we would have something to entertain us if we were forgotten again. Monday morning Hannah, Tess, and I wandered around the property until we found signs of life. The two workers who had picked us up led us to a courtyard and through several gestures, told us to clear the whole thing. We spent the next two weeks clearing the entire villa of dead leaves and weeds and these terrible little palm tree seeds. We spoke to no one but ourselves. We ended up walking six miles into town to buy our own groceries three separate times. There was nothing about the whole two weeks that was not odd and unexpected, and sometimes, pretty shitty. That being said, I don't think I have laughed as often and as hard in the last year as I did during those two weeks at Trasierra. Every morning Hannah, Tessa, and I downed a cup of instant coffee while watching the fog burn off the Spanish hills. Then we zipped up our coats against the constant wet that is a Spanish winter, and got to work. We spent so much time in the dirt that our fingers were stained brown. Time crawled by and we pulled weed after weed, piled them into buckets, walked those buckets to a burn pile. It would have been mind numbing if we hadn't spent the time making terrible jokes and talking about if we believed in soulmates, and how we wanted to be remembered, or if we needed to be remembered at all. Trasierra was not at all like I expected it to be, but I have such a soft spot for that lonely Spanish villa because in all of the strangeness there was so much beauty. Like the time we watched the sun set over hills covered in olive trees. Or when Tessa and I stripped down to our underwear, climbed to the top of the villa's tower, and laughed as Hannah took pictures of us. In the end, it didn't matter that we literally ate the clover we weeded from the courtyard, or that we spent two nights huddled around one candle after the storm took out the power. Hannah, Tessa, and I were together and we were happy

Tea cups and friends and guide books

Here is an Unruly Mix on Planning

To this day, the most relevant writing advice I've ever heard is "Write what you want to read." And what I've wanted these last few months is an interesting, fun-to-read blog that essentially gives me a foolproof, step-by-step guide for creating your own European adventure. I have never been out of the United States and would be the worst kind of liar to say there weren't moments when the very idea of this trip terrified me. So yeah, I wanted someone to hold my hand a little to tight. But my trip is real now and I made it through the planning without the help of some magical blogger. That being said, I would like to be that magical blogger for some other young, scared girl. Unfortunately, I am not at all qualified to do that for several reasons: 1) I am currently sitting in Oakland Airport's dingy pre-security waiting area, which is not exactly a part of the grand European adventure I have been envisioning since childhood. 2) For all of the planning and time and thought I have put into this trip, it is all very untested. As I said, I'm still in the fluorescent netherworld world that is airports. What if I tell you how I planned my trip and then everything crashes and burns? I can't lead you astray like that. 3) In all honesty, I have no idea how I even got here. I mean, I have photo evidence of planning sessions that contain tea cups I remember drinking and guide books that I don't remember reading, but I hardly remember much planning besides scrolling aimlessly through Airbnb. There is a distinct possibility that I feel this way because my lovely best friend, Lily, did a lot of the planning 4) And lastly, since I was raised in Central Oregon by a collection of adventurers that never really grew up, I am predisposed to being largely incapable of traveling with any sort of plan. So now that I have shown how unqualified I am for this, allow me to share with you how I planned a three month trip to countries I have never before visited. I just never shut up about it. I think over the course of my six month planning period I managed to sneak my trip into 90% of conversations that lasted over 2 minutes. I would tell my mom's clients when I ran into them at her office. I would tell customers at work. I even managed to tell the cashiers whenever I went shopping. And almost every single time I received tips I wouldn't have gotten anywhere else. A woman in a boutique recommended I take a blanket scarf because it is both highly fashionable and, well, a blanket. My boss pointed me towards Workaway, which has made it possible to travel on a the unimpressive budget of an eighteen year old. It also allows me to experience the countryside and meet lovely locals. (This part is actually still up in the air since I haven't gone to any workaways yet, but you get the concept.) One of my mom's clients told me the biggest rat she ever saw was in Barcelona. "A piglet" was her exact unit of measure. What would I do without this vital travel information!? Sure, not every person had a tip, and not every tip was helpful (Like, how many times do I need to be told that I could be robbed? I get it. Teeming European metropolises will not be like the little mountain town I grew up in. Shockingly, I arrived at this conclusion all on my own.), but every person was so incredibly supportive of my dreams. The excitement of strangers and coworkers and family is what carried me here, to this LED washed waiting area. It doesn't not matter that I have heard the phrase "Travel safe!" and "I'm so excited for you!" upwards of a hundred times. Every single one buoyed my steps, reminded me that yeah, this is happening, encouraged me to keep planning and prepping even when Europe started to look a little like a pitch black cave full of dangers I knew nothing about. And when it comes down to it, why would I want it any other way? If I already knew everything, why would I even need to go on this trip in the first place? This is not about looking at the marvelous underside of stones overturned by all the adventurers before me. It is about I overturning stones all on my own, about blazing trails that had burned silently in my heart since I was seven years old. So yes, I have fallen in love with the not knowing. It means I have something to seek out. Excelsior. P. S. I did actually find a couple really helpful websites, which I've linked below. Airbnb Airbnb has so many nifty search filters you can make sure you're getting exactly what you want, and it's way more interesting and authentic than staying in a hotel. Workaway You work about a twenty hour week in exchange for room and board. You can find hosts all over the world offering anything from childcare, to farm work, to computer help. They generally look for people willing or stay upwards of a week, so it's great way to travel for a long time on a small budget. Rome2Rio I'm obsessed with this site. You can type in any two locations and they'll find a way to get you there. I've found it really helps when you're not sure where train and bus stations are and where they connect. However, I would recommend doing a little more research on prices. There have been a handful of times when my own research as shown a route to be cheaper than its quoted at. Kayak I got my entire ticket for $780 because of this site. Before every ticket I found was at least $1200. It also allows you to get a round trip ticket from different cities. For example, I land in Seville but fly out of London. That being said, it's because Kayak creates composite tickets so you have to be okay with going through security multiple times. Backpacker's Index You can search most major cities and get an estimated budget. It's a great in early stages when you're trying to decide what ares you can afford. And honestly, most of the time I just googled stupid things like "Is three coats unnecessary when traveling Europe in the winter/spring." Trust me, you will get a result.