Made a new yard pot since the ivy outside was blooming. Will probably grab the coffin planter thats currently under this one and do something new with it. I was keeping pennywort in it but one of the bad babies ate it all (animals are generally forbidden from my work desk, but they sneak on sometimes… that’s why all the toxic plants are high display only)… so it’s just sitting there empty.

Yard pots are fun tho, and look quite nice.

Lawns should be long gone

I have had my fair share of time spent picking out 'weeds' out of our lawn. Despite my regular inner grumbling thoughts every time it was time to remove these unwanted plants, I always accepted that lawns are supposed to only have grass and after a hard few hours of extracting weeds from their roots, I would look back at the weedless lawn and be satisfied with how 'good' it looked.

But, of course, the work is not done here. Grass, like most other plants, needs watering from time to time, especially during drier times to maintain the distinct green grass colour and for a green lawn. Inevitably, the grass will also grow until it gets yellow and 'unkempt' then it becomes time to trim the grass. Grass grows rather quickly so it requires regular mowing to maintain a 'healthy' and 'nice' looking lawn. 'Weeds' will always find a place on the lawn even after removing them so unless, you have the time and effort, people would usually end up buying chemicals to stop the weeds from growing.

Clearly, a lot of work and resources are needed to keep lawns looking a certain way and has become a norm to want lawns to appear this way. It is not uncommon for people to have sprinklers installed or hosepipes to water their lawns. It isn't necessarily to keep the grass alive as it is rather resilient and can also grow back very easily, but rather to keep it a vibrant green colour. And this is not without its environmental implications. As warmer climates become hotter and rainy days become shorter, water becomes scarce for both households and the environment. As a result, hosepipe and sprinkler bans are becoming more common. It is vital that we have enough water to supply everyone for other periods of time during the year without having to put pressure on our rivers, reservoirs and groundwater source. And to ensure the long-term survival of these natural habitats. Similarly, whilst we are making progress with renewable energy, we are still very much reliant on non-renewables. Regular mowing of the lawn requires electricity and this is just so the lawn remains that short length.

This calls for change in how we manage our lawns. But, we can't change it without addressing the social norms behind maintaining a green lawn whether it is for symbolic reasons that supposedly represent the homeowner or that green lawn is supposedly aesthetically pleasing or that is needed for the occasional recreational purposes. Until then, we can then start to appreciate other alternatives that may stray from the classical lawn but are more environmentally friendly. One alternative is meadows which are becoming more popular because it requires relatively less management. It doesn't need to be mowed and watered as often and non-grass plants are encouraged to grow so less need for chemicals to be used. As a result, it creates a more diverse habitat that encourages a variety of different species to thrive and can store far more carbon. Meadows don't have to take up the whole garden space. Mini-meadows can be created that take up parts of a garden, allowing homeowners to still use the rest of their garden as they see fit.

After knowing the hidden processes needed to maintain lawns, there is little beauty in a green space devoid of life that drains our water and electrical resources. However healthy a lawn may look, there's nothing healthy about a monocultural green space filled with chemicals. Looking at a green space rich in plant and animal diversity, left mostly to its own devices to thrive - now that is something beautiful to behold.

(Valentina’s POV)

Happy Harvestfest! I volunteered to host this year, meaning we had 21 people descend on our quiet little cottage out here in Brindleton Bay. I loved having my parents, all my siblings, and all my nieces and nephews around and filling up the house, it definitely brought be back to growing up at home with all 10 of us before we all got married and moved away. My mum said it was nice to have a change of scenery and be out in the countryside for Harvestfest, whilst Newcrest where we live is itself already outside of the commotion of the city since my grandparents wanted to raise their family away from worldly influences, out here where we live it’s truly the countryside where you can appreciate nature.

The family is under the cut! 

Ryan (56) and Clare (52) Paulson

My wonderful parents are still so in love with one another with this year marking 32 years of marriage for them, 10 children and 9 grandchildren later and you’d think they were still newlyweds! Dad is still working in tech programming and at this point has helped create many Bible and devotionals apps that help other Christians get closer to the Lord, his current plan is to work until he’s 65 then he can retire and support the family with the pension that he’s earned as well as the money he gets from the apps. When she’s not homeschooling my youngest brothers (the only two left being homeschooled), my mother is either writing or teaching music. She helps coordinate the music at church, with the Winterfest nativity play music being her current project, and whenever the band/orchestra play she’s usually the one that has arranged the music, as well as guiding the players through the song. In the new year Newcrest Baptist is running a music camp, so she’s been preparing for that mainly; my cousin Zoe and I will also be teaching at camp so we’re all looking forward to the new year. 

The Paulson Family - Carter (30), Madelynn (27), Lester (6), Fitzwilliam (1)

Carter and Madelynn have their 2 boys and right now are enjoying the different experiences that come with having a child and a toddler. Madelynn is homeschooling Lester as well as having him to go a christian homeschool co-op in their area twice a week, to further enhance his learning. Fitz is a year old and so just tags along with whatever Lester does, Madelynn goes through the toddler basics with him, but mostly focuses on Lester right now. This winter they’re going skiing with Madelynn’s family, her father is supporting their local conservative candidate in the election and the fundraiser is being held at a wonderful ski resort in the mountainous region.

The Townsend Family - Eric (32), Valentina (29), Aria (8), Ansel (6), Asher & Abbott (2)

We’re all good over here! I’ve started the school year with Aria and Ansel and both are progressing wonderfully, it’s amazing how much these kids love learning and I’m encouraged by their enthusiasm! I’m starting a rudimentary course with the twins to get them hopping on the learning train, they’re so interested in what their older siblings are doing that I thought it best to jump right into school with them. Eric and I have been thinking about getting some farm animals, we took the kids to the farmer’s market the other day and they were enraptured by the chickens, goats, cows, and sheep. It would be great to have the animals, we’d get fresh animal produce that’s homegrown to add to our fruit and vegetable garden produce, as well as a learning opportunity for the children to learn about animals and to learn the responsibility that comes with taking care of animals. This winter, other than learning about plants that flourish in the winter, we’ll also be focusing on learning all about animals and how we care for them. We want to be ready to welcome any animals that we might get onto our little homestead in the coming spring. I’m also working on what I’ll be teaching at music camp hosted by Newcrest Baptist in the new year, when I think of opportunities like this I can’t help but thank the Lord for my parents, had my mother not poured into us and taught us how to play instruments then I’d never be blessed with this opportunity to teach others.

The Paulson Family - Alan (28), Tessa (21), Charity (1), Edgar (6 weeks old)

Alan and Tessa have had the most recent addition to the family, 6 weeks ago Tessa had their second child, a boy they named Edgar! Tessa truly inspires me, she barely had the time to recover after having a baby before loading up to travel down here with everyone! She’s such a blessing, I was talking to her on how she handled travelling with a 2 children under 1 and she made it sound so easy! If they keep going at their current rate then they’ll have another baby by next Harvestfest - how wonderful! This winter they’re travelling to Sulani with Tessa’s family, they’re excited to have the sun and the ocean instead of frigid air and snow as they celebrate the birth of our Lord! 

The Crocker Family - Gregory (28), Kristyn (25), Kayla (1)

Kristyn and Gregory are enjoying life with little Kayla, they’ve had a wonderful time adjusting to her joining and family and love it. She’s the first granddaughter on their side of the family as Gregory’s sisters have had all boys, so she’s definitely being spoilt at home! Kristyn has always had a great love of children, and she’s been open with us sisters about praying for another child soon. They’re staying in Oasis Springs this winter and celebrating Winterfest with Gregory’s family.

The Crawford Family - Tucker (26) and Sabrina (25)

The newlyweds have been loving this new season of life together! Sabrina called me and told me that she’s been loving married life way more than she thought she would. She and Tucker honeymooned in a little cabin tucked away in the woods up by Granite Falls; after a couple gets married and goes from limited physical intimacy to being married and being allowed to do everything, it is quite an adjustment to get used to. It’s good for them that they got that time together because they’ve got a packed schedule soon after this. They’re travelling with the Crawfords to sing at churches in the area for the winter, and after that they’re back on the farm for the springtime harvesting and to prep for the summer harvest and their summer tour. It’s been great to have my sister living in the same area, during times when they are home we try and coordinate when we can see each other.

Jarrod (21) and Madison Jenkins (19)

We’ve also got a newly engaged couple on the block! Jarrod proposed to Madison when he was on a visit to see her in Evergreen Harbour, they had just finished church when he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him! They’re planning for a winter wedding, meaning that they’re also planning around our cousin Charles and his wedding; hopefully they can nail down dates so that we can all make it to both weddings. With a family as large as ours, it’s definitely going to be interesting to see how the rest of the singles do it when it comes time to plan their weddings, since Celeste is the last girl left my parents only have one last time to be the wedding hosts.

Celeste (27), Zachary (19), Conner & Jarrett (16)

Celeste is truly thriving in her singleness, when she’s not at home serving others she’s travelling around visiting those of us who moved away and investing in the lives of her nieces and nephews. She also spends time investing in the lives of those around her, she travels with our cousin Macie to different young ladies’ retreats and they both counsel and guide young ladies on how to better their walk with the Lord. This winter she’s joining Macie and a few other youths from our Newcrest Baptist on a missions trip to Selvadorada, so that’s another thing to add into our families already hectic winter.

Zachary is also enjoying his new status as an adult, he’s started working part time for a lawn services company run by a member of the church and a friend of the family. He’s also joining Celeste on the missions trip to Selvadorada this year, it’ll be his first time out of the country so he is very excited!

Conner and Jarrett are enjoying their time as the youngest kids in the family, they’re quite self sufficient at school meaning that they’re working through it quite quickly and are on track to graduate early! It’s always great when we get to see the boys, Ansel is old enough for them to bring him along when they go on outings, so it was great to have them here together.

I’m so intrigued as to why you hated Peter Rabbit so much omg. Please tell!!

I’m putting this under a read more because it got really long and complicated. Sorry, but I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about this and Peter Rabbit is the vessel.

That being said, if you like the movie, that’s okay! You’re allowed to like it and you shouldn’t let me make you feel bad. I love tons of bad movies! Spice World always makes me smile!

Also I want to say that I am not blaming or mad at the actors, crew, the CGI people. Like they did the best with what they had and I don’t fault them. I mostly blame the writers, director, and producers. Especially the producers.

BUT we can���t forget that, at the end of the day, this movie was a cashgrab, merchandise factory of a movie. This is, as my old roommate coined, a parking ticket movie. Basically the only reason half of the people worked on this movie was because they got a bad parking ticket and needed some quick cash. I do not believe for a second that Margot Robbie or Domhnall Gleeson looked at this script and went “yes, this seems like exactly the kind of children’s movie I’ve always dreamed of doing.” Everyone involved with this film did it for the money or because they were contractually obligated. And honestly, that’s okay. I could live with that. These are their jobs and they’re allowed to make money. But when you do a project because you’re forced to, or for the payout, it shows in the work. We can tell when your heart’s not in it. But the movie had bigger issues than the motivations behind it.

1. The movie didn’t have a good villain. Perhaps this is because I’m older and have more sympathy but Thomas McGregor is a very ineffectual villain. We start the movie, meeting him, as if he were the main character! We see that he’s a bit of a control freak and that he can be a little rude to people and then we see him lose his job and have a mental breakdown. He gets this house in the country and all he wants to do is sell it and move on. The rabbits are actively (and against their own desires, but we’ll get into that later) working against him to make selling the house harder. This guy’s supposed to be the villain? This guy who basically lost everything in his life and just wants to go home and spends half the movie getting electrocuted because he doesn’t want animals in the house when he’s trying to sell it? Maybe it’s because Domhnall can make anyone charming, or maybe it’s poor writing, but I watched the movie asking why I was supposed to hate McGregor. He hadn’t done anything wrong! To be honest, as you go through the movie it seems like the rabbits are the antagonists! If the movie was hoping to make him a Cruella DeVil figure, they failed. Thomas is a sad, broken man and I just felt bad for him. Also I don’t enjoy seeing my husband getting beat up by CGI rabbits, it’s embarrassing, but that’s beside the point.

2. The romance between Bea and Thomas is forced, unnecessary, and unlikely to last. Considering they’re supposed to get married and have a baby in the sequel, I think it’s even more ridiculous. The third movie will have them getting a much needed divorce. Like this is a kid’s movie, I don’t know why it needed a romance?? But basically Bea and Thomas have absolutely nothing in common. This isn’t a cute ‘opposites attract’ thing, this is that their values and morals and desires don’t match up at all. They’re completely different people! The fact that Thomas spends the whole movie basically lying to get Bea to like him should be proof enough that whoever wrote the characters never intended them to be a legitimate couple. They’re pushed together because, idk it’s a movie and we have to have a happy ending which means a wedding because apparently we’re in Shakespeare’s time?? People are allowed to be friends and they work better as friends! Also do you think Bea knows anything about shibari? That’s what Thomas needs and you expect this little granola painter to be able to tie him up and rough him around? Oh please.

3. The movie is just bad. The humor and plot are very weak and the characters are mostly one dimensional. I think I laughed once during the entire time I watched it. I must admit, in an effort for transparency, that I didn’t finish the movie. I had to stop watching after 45 minutes because I couldn’t take anymore. What does it say about your movie that 45 minutes in and the plot hadn’t really even started yet? It was ALL exposition and that’s bad! This is a kid’s movie, the action needs to start sooner! The humor was oddly topical and unoriginal; the whole movie was. It was clear this was a rip off of Home Alone, Alvin and the Chipmunks, 101 Dalmatians, The Minions. If not through plot than through style. Playing a Top 40 song during an opening scene doesn’t make your movie better, it just makes it lazy. It’s clear you didn’t pick “Feel it Still” by Portugal the Man because it added something to Peter’s character. You added it because people know the song and it will make them sing along and smile. The plot is weak too, it doesn’t make sense. The whole point is that the rabbits want McGregor to leave... he does too! They actively sabotage themselves by pulling all these stunts on him. If they had just left him alone for 2 weeks, he could’ve sold the house and left. He probably would’ve sold it to some rich family that wouldn’t care about a garden full of animals! But instead they realize Thomas doesn’t like them and decide to electrocute him and humiliate him because he doesn’t want them in his garden for a specific amount of time that has an end date. Until the rabbits bothered him, Thomas didn’t care about them! If they had left him alone, he wouldn’t have ‘fallen in love’ with Bea and their other problems wouldn’t have happened too! They caused their own misery! What is this plot?! 

4. Bea is just an idiot and I can’t stand her. No shade to Rose Byrne because she is literally so pretty but the character is very dumb and annoying. She’s supposed to be Beatrix Potter which is also a very strange inclusion considering Beatrix was a real person and had her own life, just saying. But anyway, we can see early on in the film that Bea can communicate with the rabbits. They respect her and listen to her. So why does she let them, and at times, instigate them towards McGregor’s garden! She knows how dangerous it is and that Peter’s dad died there. They literally have the whole forest and her property and they can’t stay out of a 10 square foot garden? If she cares about those rabbits so much why doesn’t she grow some vegetables? Why doesn’t she stop them from bothering the guy who clearly wants nothing to do with them? She’s so caught up in ‘respecting nature’ and ‘being an artist’ that she’s so oblivious to everything else in her life and completely useless in every other way. Thomas deserves a better partner and Beatrix Potter deserved a better interpretation.

5. The characters are mean. Peter Rabbit is supposed to be a bit of a rascal and a scamp. He’s a troublemaker compared to his goody-two shoes siblings. We know this, it’s in the books. But everyone in this movie, especially Peter, is just so mean! Every other comment he makes is something disparaging against Benjamin or one of the other animals. He spends the whole movie being rude and dismissive and cocky. We’re supposed to root for this character? At times, considering his dialogue, Peter seems like more of an antagonist than Thomas. At least Thomas is nice to Bea, at least Thomas, in the beginning, only tries to keep the rabbits out and not hurt them. Peter’s a jerk and I don’t like his character. I don’t like any of the animal characters, they’re all so sarcastic and unsympathetic. So much of the ‘humor’ comes from one of the characters making fun of another and the jokes fall flat because of it. Beatrix Potter’s characters have such a softness to them, they invoke warm and cozy feelings. This movie was such an insult to her work.

Right before Peter Rabbit came out, I saw the Mr. Rogers documentary. Seeing him be so passionate about children’s media really made me think about the stories we give our kids. They deserve better than this recycled garbage! They deserve better characters and better stories. They deserve to be treated like human beings with brains and feelings and talents, instead of just mindless meat bags we plop in front of a screen to keep them out of our hair. I’m not saying that we can’t have entertainment that’s silly or stupid but when every kid’s movie is exactly the same, I start to feel bad. Children deserve quality! 

So here’s my pitch for a Peter Rabbit movie: Up until Thomas goes to drop the rabbits in the river, everything is the same. I would make Peter and his siblings nicer and more inclined to work together as a team but otherwise everything is the same. Then, right before Thomas drops the bag, he stops. What is he doing? What has his life become? He’s about to kill innocent animals because he lost his job? He sinks down on the bridge and starts to cry. He starts telling the rabbits, because he has no one else, how terrible he feels. His job was the most important thing to him. He has no friends, no hobbies, no direction. He doesn’t know what to do with his life now. Maybe Peter pokes his head out and snuggles up to Thomas, showing empathy. Thomas goes on to say that while he enjoyed his job, he realizes now that he wasn’t truly happy and that getting revenge won’t make him happy. He looks down and sees the binoculars, the first gift he’s gotten in years. He looks and sees the rabbits curling up against him and he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to sell the house. Maybe he doesn’t have to go back to his life. So, with the help of his friend Bea and the rabbits, Thomas learns how to calm down and enjoy life. He learns to appreciate the small things and respect the beauty of nature. Maybe there’s a funny montage of Thomas trying to mow the lawn or garden. Maybe he makes everyone dinner with his vegetables and it’s really bad and everyone makes a funny face. It ends (a little like the original ending) with Thomas realizing that he may have lost his successful glamorous job in the city, but now he has friends. Now he has people who care about him and good food on his table. So the movie ends on a toy shop. Thomas is showing a little boy how to fly a remote control plane. Benjamin and Cottontail are in the middle of a tea party with a little girl. Bea is wrapping a gift for customer and Flopsy gets her paw stuck in the bow. Everything seems perfect and wonderful when we hear a huge crash offscreen. PETER! End Credits

You see all I wanted from infinity war/endgame was Vision and Nebula meeting up and being friends. But she doesn’t know that he’s always been a sythezoid, so she’s kinda like “shit, what happened to you??” And Vizh kinda just “???” But marvel’s too cowardly to do anything fun, so could I please request a fic based loosely on that?

That would have been lovely! I’ve never written Nebula before, so I hope she’s in character here, and I hope you don’t mind a bit of Scarlet Vision at the beginning and the fact that I am just going to willfully ignore canon for this story. :D 

A cozy, soothing rightness curls through his synthetic veins as he takes in the emerald wisps in the distance. His heart beats faster at the shimmering points of light deep inside the structure, understanding that each one may one day (in many billions of years) host a system teeming with conscious thought. He is awestruck at how so many elements all came together to form the majesty before him. There is also a part of his mind, one that rarely feels present, that sings with the knowledge of being home, back among the particles and the atoms which were birthed in creation.

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice brims with wonder, eyes wide and smitten, her fingers still laced with his, as they have been since the ship first arrived unannounced on the lawn of the compound. Through all of the conversations, all the planning, all the awkward introductions and stumbles of two teams attempting to work together, he knows Wanda’s attention, like his own, has rarely strayed from the panoramic windows of the ship.

“It is.”

Wanda tugs him closer, their hips meeting and trapping their joined hands, allowing her to lay her head along his bicep. “Do you know what it is?”

The simple answer, and likely all she is asking, is that they appear to be inspecting a nebula. Yet he has been attempting to discern the exact nature of the structure outside (one he knows is not nearly as close at is seems). There are numerous large, billowy clouds clustered together to form the overall shape which is, if he squints, reminiscent of a seahorse. “I believe it is a conglomeration of giant molecular clouds.” Wanda’s huh is accepting of the response without actually tucking the information away, the same sound she makes any time he has provided an answer that isn’t really an answer to someone without a deep knowledge of the topic. “This nebula is likely a stellar nursery.”

Her mouth curves into a waxing crescent, “That’s amazing.” Her joy is celestial, filling his chest with the appropriateness of experiencing this with her, of all people. “So, uh, what do you think…of all this?”

The mission, from what he gathered in the hotly debated group meeting, concerns thwarting an attempt to retrieve an ancient and powerful artifact, some confusion still remaining as to the actual artifact as well as why and how the Guardians of the Galaxy (or so their apparent captain - though there was debate on this as well - introduced them as) came to call on the Avengers. “I am uncertain what is happening due to the ill-defined plan we have been given.”

“Glad I’m not alone.” Wanda’s snigger is delighted yet empathetically annoyed. “What do you think of all of them?”

It’s a big question, one he has contemplated briefly, yet he isn’t sure if deep thought is needed to describe the way he feels, his emotions blindingly bright on the topic. Yet he gives it a moment’s thought before answering. Earlier at the meeting, there was a green skinned woman seated across from him, her eyes serious and mouth in a perennial frown throughout the debate. Next to her was a bulky man with straightforward, un-nuanced opinions that contrasted sharply with the intricate crimson markings inlaid in his skin. To Vision’s right was a woman with antennae, her mouth in a constant joyful curve, and to his left (well, Wanda’s immediate left) was a foul-mouthed tree and an even fouler-mouthed raccoon. The assortment was dizzying, only one truly normative human amongst them, and for the first time in his relatively brief existence Vision felt oddly…normal. Not a single individual on the ship stared at him askew, veered from his handshake, or whispered behind his back. Even on his own team he has never been treated in such a casual, unperturbed nature. It’s nice. “They seem passionate, well-trained, a bit disorganized, but accepting.”  Well, mostly, during the meeting his eyes would wander to the far right of the gathering, to a face that was framed by the shoulders of Steve and Sam, to the unerring stare of the cybernetic woman who said all of four words the entire debate. That is not enough to sway his emotional assessment, however.  “I am comfortable here.”

“Good,” she squeezes his hand while laying a kiss to his arm, “they’re a lot louder than our team.”

“Oh yes, most assuredly.”

Another hug from her fingers and she yawns, stifling it against the fabric of his uniform, her breath hot on his skin. “Alright, today’s been overwhelming so I’m going to sleep. You coming?”

Any other night he would say yes, but the expanse of space calls out to him, demanding just a little more time. “I believe I may remain here a bit longer and then I shall join you.”

“Okay,” Wanda rises up onto her toes, a cloud of scarlet, shimmering in unison with the nebula outside, engulfs his face, turning his head down and to the right so she can kiss him. “Good night, Vizh.”  

“Sleep well, Wanda.”

Once she is gone, Vision tries to enjoy the solitude and silence of eternal night, except it is difficult to do when not truly alone. He waits precisely five minutes, forty-five seconds, and fifteen milliseconds before acknowledging the shadow that’s been watching him since the teams dispersed earlier in the evening (well they called it evening despite a lack of demarcation between day and night). “Are you intending to speak with me at any point?”

“Calm down,” the woman’s voice is monotone, which usually implies emotionlessness, yet he can sense a seething rage in each syllable, “didn’t want to interrupt your little moment.” A layer of disgust coats the last two words.

“I appreciate that.” She rolls her eyes and he finds himself at a loss for how to continue…well, more at how to begin. When they arrived on the ship, she was not present, at some point between introductions and the first aggravated groan of the meeting, she slinked in unannounced and relatively unnoticed, the only signs of recognition by anyone were some of the surprised eyes of his own teammates at her blue and purple skin and the unmitigated view of her metal parts. It means they have not truly met and that seems an appropriate place to start. “I am Vision,” he turns towards her and holds out his hand.

“Yeah, I know,” the complete disregard for the information is more effective at slapping his hand away than if she had physically done so, “so,” her eyes scan his body with a detached, almost scientific interest, “what happened to you?”

“I, um, do not follow.”

Her face is unimpressed by his lack of comprehension. “Had to have gotten into some deep shit for,” she waves her metal hand at him, “all this.”

This is a line of postulation he has not encountered concerning his appearance, the majority of people usually ask if the stone in his head is a way to turn him off (or on and then they laugh and run away). “I was created in a laboratory.”

“Well, that’s boring.”

For some reason the dismissal stings and he finds himself sharing the more dramatic details of his birth before he can reason through why he is doing it, “In which a rogue sentient robot controlled the mind of a renowned geneticist and forced her to create my body as a new form to occupy.”

A small, frightening smirk forms on the woman’s lips, “Now we’re talking.”

Vision nods slowly, confirming they are, in fact, speaking, “During the process, Wanda, who was, well, aiding Ultron-”

“Ultron the psychopathic robot?”

“I- yes, he is,” Nebula nods, a hint of pride on her face at connecting the dots of his story. “Wanda realized Ultron’s plan and freed the geneticist from the mind control, and then the Avengers captured the cradle my body was in and they finished bringing me to life, without Ultron’s influence.”

The woman accepts the information and doesn’t press for more, so he joins her in staring out the windows at the peacefulness of space.  Then she speaks and the conversation veers in a direction he did not anticipate, one with a concerning level of hopeful curiosity. “Did you kill him?”

“I-” he thinks back to the forest and the regret he felt even though he knew it was the right thing to do, “I did, yes.”

“Nice. That’s my dream,” she doesn’t turn to look at him, the air around them chilling as she seems to dissociate from their conversation and slip into a wholly different mindset, “to murder the man who did this to me.”

The uniqueness of the conversation begins to take shape, the similarities of their appearance maps onto his deep understanding of the desire to find a kindred spirit. “Who-”

One word, one sign of interest is enough to catapult her into what seems a well-rehearsed monologue. “My father. When I was a child, he conquered Luphom, killed half the population, took me under his wing.” Vision’s lips fall at the decidingly unfatherly actions. “Every time I failed him he replaced more of my body, enhanced me, he’d say, usually without knocking me out, wanted me to know exactly what he was doing to me.” As subtly as possible, his eyes pinpoint every part of her visible body that is cybernetic, his stomach looping itself into knots at the innumerable lines along her face and at the fully metal arm, “This one was me,” she cocks her arm like a rifle, a wicked sneer on her face, “chopped it off to escape my sister.”

“Your family sounds,” he pauses, seeking out the appropriate word, his own experience with family abnormal, but not in a way that would encourage him to dismember himself, “complicated.”

She snorts, “Aren’t all families?” and the combination of the sound with the casualness of her words is alarming.

“I do not believe it is statically possible for every family to have such serious complications.”

Whatever humor she had in the situation vanishes, the shared ground between them crumbling with the purse of her lips. “You got a cape, assume you can fly?”

“Yes.”

Her chin dips with the victory of her deductive reasoning. “What else can you do?”

The breadth of his powers is vast, yet he believes he can boil it down to a small list, though hopefully she does not wish for a conversation on why he can perform the feats he can because he has not yet deciphered the best explanation. Vision begins with the most obvious enhancement. “Not only is my body laced with vibranium, but so are my cells. This makes me nigh indestructible and—” suddenly a leg cuts through the air, sliding diagonally from his right clavicle down to his left hip as his density drops, her foot connecting with the floor in a deafening thud.

“Fascinating.”

Vision’s sympathetic system activates as he turns to follow the shark-like circling of the woman as she takes in his now solid body, even reaching out to experimentally nudge his shoulder. Despite his body’s response, he does not currently believe he is in any real danger, no clear signs of a legitimate threat present in her posture or on her face. “I am able to shift my density, which also allows me to phase through solid objects.” To demonstrate, he reduces the density of his legs and drops down until the floor is at his knees. He returns to his full height, feet solidly on the floor, only after she acknowledges the action with a guttural hmm.

“Can you take the density the other way?”

“Yes,” and he does, shifting his molecules until his skin resembles the sheen and cut of diamonds.

She studies his skin, stepping closer to poke it again, this level of closeness one he never encourages or enjoys from anyone other than Wanda, but he worries if he flinches or pulls away it will demolish the tenuous sense of camaraderie and relative absence of judgment from the woman. This seems a decent plan until she winds back and punches him in the face, the force of which actually moves his jaw a quarter of a millimeter. Vision immediately steps back, creating what he hopes is a chasm of acceptable but not offensive social distance. The woman doesn’t seem to notice or much care, cracking her knuckles with a barely perceptible grin on her face, “I’m jealous.”

Now the attention is stifling and so Vision seeks to deflect it. “What do your,” he tries to conjure up a word or phrase that is descriptive without being offensive to her abusive upbringing, “cybernetic adaptations provide?”

“Super strength, durability, and rapid healing.” Vision watches as she takes three steps back, spine straightening, chin slightly aloft while her arms hang down and her hands are held out just to the sides of her hips. “Give it a try.”

He’s seen Natasha in the same stance, even down to the subtle quirk of her lip that says do your worst. Unlike in training, however, he doesn’t have to engage, instead he decides to double down on what his teammates call his otherworldly aloofness to parry the suggestion. “I am uncertain I follow.”

“Come on.” The flick of her fingers tries to entice him. It fails, his body remaining a respectable distance. “Just one punch, lab boy, see who’s really stronger.”

There is, to him at least, absolutely no reason to establish any dominance hierarchy based on strength, which is precisely what her tone and continued stare imply she wishes to construct. “I would rather not.”

Disappoint slips into her irate, “Coward.”

Perhaps he is, though he disagrees with the assessment given his past behaviors in battles. “I believe I may retire for the eve—”

“Arm wrestling?”

The question is a smidgen desperate, something he finds surprising, yet it does cause him to contemplate the suggestion and weigh all possible outcomes of accepting the offer. “I suppose that would be an acceptably nonviolent test of our strength.”

“Good.” He follows her to the dining table located towards the back of the main room and watches with interest as she clears a space for them, shoving cups and plates and vid screens without caring when something falls. “Right or left?”

“I am ambidextrous.” This is accepted with a sharp smile, the woman choosing her seat and placing her mechanical elbow on the table, hand held aloft, fingers open and inviting. Vision settles uneasily into the other chair, rotating his torso fifteen degrees to bring his left elbow to the cool, metal table. “Are there rules?” The question is asked as he places his hand in her own, the feel of her prosthetic on his skin a fascinating texture in comparison to other hands he has held.

The woman flexes her fingers, rearranging her body to get a better grip. “No external weapons,” a fair rule, “that’s it.”

“What about-” Vision feels his arm begin to give out as the woman unexpectedly starts, attempting to use surprise to her advantage, but he recalibrates his muscles within a quarter second, flexing his bicep to bring their hands back to the starting position. “That was unsportsmanlike.”

“Oh, boohoo,” she snarls at the lost ground, eyes locked on their hands as she struggles to push his arm.

This is not his maiden voyage in arm wrestling, in fact, one of the first team bonding activities they did in his life was such a competition. Captain Rogers alone gave him pause in his dominance, though even then he tried not to use the strength inherit in his full density for fear of harming his teammates. This woman surprises him, on comparable footing to Captain Rogers, but she has a slight advantage in ruthlessness as he’s fairly certain a screw or two is being shoved into the skin between his thumb and index finger. Vision increases his density slightly to counteract the questionable use of technically-not-external-weapons and manages to drop her hand an inch and a half closer to the tabletop.

“Come on,” her voice is strained, teeth clenched while she strives to regain her position, “that all you got?”

Vision likes to think of himself as above the human need to win, yet Wanda is typically the first to point out his sourness in losing at games, including this one, the woman’s words egging him on despite knowing he should remain unmoved by the taunt. He increases his density a fraction more, pushing her hand down farther and that’s when she screams and he sees her humerus fracture. Panic floods his mind, body, and voice at the same time. “Oh, oh no, I will go get aid immediately.”

But she doesn’t let go of his hand as he tries to leave, doesn’t cry or wince as she stares hard at him, a sickening snap coming from her body as her bone shifts back into place. With his attention frazzled, she thrusts his wrist down in a swift arc, slamming the back of his hand to the table.  “Gotcha.”

A sadistic chuckle echoes around him as his parasympathetic system kicks in, breathing beginning to settle and the adrenaline leaving his cells, his mind whirring in an attempt to reconcile all that happened. Vision isn’t certain how to proceed, simply stating, “That was also unsportsmanlike.”

Her nose scrunches in disagreement, “You used your density manipulation, I,” she holds out her arm and winces as she replays the maneuver, her gaze locked on his as she reconnects her artificial bone, “heal very quickly. Comes in handy from time to time.”

“That must, um, be quite useful.” And manipulative in non-dire situations, yet with the family environment she has informed him of, perhaps it is an adaptive survival technique.

She takes his compliment with a satisfied smirk, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Not bad for a couple of scrap heaps.”

Self-deprecating humor is something he himself has toyed with, an outlet for acknowledging his deep insecurities without alarming others. He tries hard not to use it, knowing how easily it can tip into a spiral of self-doubt. Given his own perceptions of his inhuman physique, it’s not surprising to find this woman has mastered it and even though he chuckles politely, his mind also rushes through the various ways to counter the lighthearted dehumanization. “Are you familiar with Gestaltism?”

“No,” she levels a serious gaze at him, “but I hope you’re about to tell me about disemboweling enemies.”

Thankfully he is not, nor is he willing to enter into that branch of conversation. “It posits that in the process of perceiving a stimulus, the whole is considered something other than, and distinct from, the parts that make it up. In fact—”

She stands, the sound of her chair scraping against the ground effectively silencing him.  “This is boring.”

“My apologies.”

“The angry woodland creature would be better to discuss parts and wholes with,” an impish, knowing slant forms on her mouth, “though I don’t think you’ll agree with his philosophy.”

Vision isn’t sure which shipmate is the angry woodland creature, given both the tree and raccoon were snarky during the meeting. “I will do so, thank you.”

With a curt nod she turns to leave, takes four steps, hunches her shoulders, swivels to face him, stomps the four paces back and thrusts her mechanical hand out. “I’m Nebula.”

Vision shakes her hand like Steve taught him, firm yet friendly. “Vis—”

“I know.” Before the words are out of her mouth, her hand is gone from his, back at her side, fingers flexing in discomfort. “You’d be more formidable if you talked less.”

“I will process your constructive feedback.”

This time her snort isn’t alarming and might even be a bit friendly. “Good night.”

“Good night.” He remains at the table for several more minutes, face turned towards the windows of the ship. The conglomeration of gases, clouds, and stars still swirl together, forming a whole object of wonder, one that has explanations, yet still remains a relative mystery.  Nebula, he reasons, seems a very fitting name.

“Neighbors” ( Johnny (NCT) Fluff/Drabble)

Title: Neighbors

Featuring: Johnny (NCT) X reader

POV: 2nd

Summary: Your annoying neighbor is throwing yet another party. This time you lose your patience. 

Requested by @to-move-on-means-to-grow! <3

Your body ached with every step you took out of the office; it had been a long day, and a long week now that you thought about it. You were usually off on Saturdays, but half the office had taken the day off and you were one of the only people willing to come in. The only solace was that your boss let you go home a little early.

It wasn’t until you started the walk home; grocery bag in one arm, purse on the other, that you remembered it was the weekend before Halloween, meaning most people would be having parties tonight.

You had been invited to a few, and had politely declined using work as an excuse, but mostly because you just didn’t like parties. Halloween was fine, one of your favorites actually, but just because people put on costumes didn’t make it any less of a party, filled with awkward social interactions, loud music, and too much alcohol. Instead, you stopped by the grocery store for popcorn and candy, and planned to spend the rest of the night in watching a horror movie marathon on TV.

You started to walk up your drive and paused, seeing orange and black balloons tied to your neighborhood’s mailbox. He was having a party, and you groaned at the thought. You lived in a duplex, and the neighbor you shared the space with had been the bane of your existence since you moved in.

Johnny seemed nice enough at first and that was the problem. He was too nice. He was charming and attractive and he had a lot of friends, which meant his side of the duplex was a constant spot for parties, get-togethers in the front yard during the summer, and just general noise. You’d gone over on multiple occasions to tell him to quiet down, and he always just smiled and told you it was “no big deal” and that you could stay if you wanted to, man.

You never thought you’d turn into the crotchety old neighbor from your childhood, but as an adult you valued your alone time and your peace. You were introverted, to be sure, and living in such close proximity to such an extrovert was making life difficult.

It being Halloween weekend meant this would not just be a lowkey, kick-back kind of party, and you found yourself already angry at him even though he hadn’t done anything to you. Yet.  

You trudged inside, plopping your grocery bag down on the counter and mentally running through a meditative mantra.

He will not disrupt our night. Everything will be fine. We’ll turn the volume up extra loud if we have to.

You started to feel better, jumping into a long, hot shower and throwing on the more comfortable PJs you could find. You made yourself a simple but delicious one-pot dinner and had a glass of wine with it. After surfing the net, getting caught up on social media and emails, you made your way to the couch with a fluffy fleece blanket and your popcorn and candy and flipped on the TV.

All was well.

An hour later, it started.

First it was the music, so loud the bass thumped through the floor. You tried to ignore it, turning up the volume on the TV.  Bela Lugosi as Dracula was about to get his first victim, and you focused hard on the old black and white, trying to ignore the increasing voices.

Then it just got louder, with random yelling and cheers. What the hell were they doing over there?

It had been awhile since you’d willingly talked to him, and you didn’t want to be that neighbor, but you knew you were about to be that neighbor.

You didn’t care that you were in your flannel PJ pants and tshirt, hair tossed up into a bun. You threw on your slip-on shoes and a hoodie and marched across the lawn to the other porch. You could see the shadows inside and feel the vibration of the music, knowing you couldn't be the only person in the neighborhood annoyed, but being the only one who had to share a duplex with him.

You tried knocking, but no one heard. Then you rang the doorbell. Then you rang it again. Soon you were incessantly pressing the doorbell until the front door swung up.

Johnny was, ironically enough, dressed as Dracula. He had a cape, with the red-lined high collar, and he pushed his dark hair back as he opened the door. When he saw it was you, he smiled, and you saw a convincing pair of fangs.

“Hey!” He said in an excited tone, despite you standing there in your PJs with your arms crossed, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re being pretty loud.”

“Uh yeah, it’s a party.”

You huffed. He was going to make this hard, and you didn’t have time to play games.

“Look, I’ve had a long day and I-“

He cut you off, opening the door wider and speaking over you.

“You wanna come in?”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

You didn’t know if he was purposely being dense to bug you or if he was really just this clueless.

“As I was saying, I’ve had a long day and I’m just trying to relax. You think you could be a little quieter?”

“I mean I could try but,” He looked back at his friends and laughed. “I can’t make any promises. Why don’t you just come over?”

“Johnny,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve invited me to exactly 300 some parties.”

He nodded.

“And how many of those have I actually shown up to?”

“One.”

“Right, when I first moved in here.”

“And you didn’t have fun?”

“If I’d had fun I would ha-“ You stopped yourself and took a breath. “Look, can you just turn it down?”

He laughed. “If you wanna sit in your apartment and have a shitty attitude go ahead, but I’m having a party.” He shrugged. Your jaw went slack in surprise, then you narrowed your eyes at him and turned on your heel without another word.

When you got back to your apartment, you slammed the door shut a little harder than intended. You felt hot with anger, that he’d have the gall to speak to you that way. You didn’t want to be the person raining on everyone’s parade, but he was noisy and inconsiderate most of the time, and tonight was no different. Couldn’t he take a break, for someone else’s sake?

You packed yourself up in the blankets, grumbling to yourself, turning up the volume on the TV to an almost deafening level. You didn’t want to, but you were being spiteful even if he definitely couldn’t hear it.

The night wore on and you managed to get through the rest of Dracula. You thought about axing the idea of watching more movies and just going to bed instead, but your doorbell pulled you out of those thoughts.

You peered through the peep hole and saw Johnny standing there awkwardly, without his cape. You rolled your eyes as you pulled the door open.

“What.”

It sounded harsh, but you were still upset.

“Hey uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes, and you scowled at him. What game was he playing? You’d never seen him act unsure before.

“Yes?” You asked impatiently.

“Can I come in?”

When he looked at you, it was genuine and intent, and you realized this was the first time you’d ever made prolonged eye contact with him before, and also realized how pretty and doe-eyed his gaze was. That streak of positive feeling toward him took you by surprise, and you shook it off, looking away.

“I guess.” You said, pulling the door open and stepping aside so he could come in.

“I just wanted to say sorry.” He spoke as soon as the door shut behind him. “I was really out of line.”

You sighed, starting to feel a little bad about your own attitude in the face of his sincerity.

“It’s fine, I do have a shitty attitude. I worked all week and then my boss made me come in at 7 am today and I never get a day off and I’m so tired and I just wanted to be away from everyone and-“ You stopped yourself, realizing you had launched into a full-blown rant and swallowed back the rest of your words, feeling a little mortified for unloading like that. When you looked at Johnny, you found him smiling.

“It’s cool, I get it. I probably should be a little more quiet. I was just excited about the party, that’s why I invited you over.” He leaned against a nearby wall. “ I mean, that’s why I invite you to all my parties.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“I’ve been trying to get to know you for almost a year.” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders and looking at his shoes. He was embarrassed, to your surprise, and he looked cute while doing so.

“Get to know me?” You repeated, still not fully understanding.

“I guess I kind of have a crush on you, or whatever.” He laughed again. “I didn’t want to make it awkward by just asking you out, so I thought if I could get you to come to one of my parties it’d be easier. If you saw me at my best, around other people, maybe you'd say yes.” He shook his head at himself, “Instead I just keep repeatedly making myself look like  bigger an bigger jackass.”

You blinked, shocked into silence. This was the last thing you expected him to come over and tell you. You never dreamed that he actually really wanted you to come over, you just figured he always did it to be nice, because he liked having parties and liked having as many people as possible.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, its not all you.” You began, and he finally looked up at you, standing up straight because he was interested in hearing your explanation

“I do find you a little bit annoying.” You said, half-smiling, and he let out a good-natured chuckle.

“That’s fair.”

“But, “ You continued. “Its mostly just that I hate parties. I mean, like really despise them.”

“Ooooh,” He nodded as he spoke. “ I just thought you really hated me. I kept trying to invite you over because I thought I’d eventually win you over, I didn’t even think that maybe you just weren’t into it.” He pushed his hand through his hair and you gulped at the sight.

“Man, I am not the most observant” He laughed at himself.

“No, you’re not.” You added, laughing yourself to ease the tension. There was silence then, letting all the new information sink in on both sides. Johnny moved like he was thinking of leaving, and you quickly spoke up.

“Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you.” You blurted out. “Like, outside of a party situation.” You added. You realized you had been pretty hard on him these last few months, and he wasn’t as bad as you initially thought.

Johnny looked toward your TV, the bowl of popcorn and bag of candy perched upon a bed of fluffy blankets.

“You wanna watch a movie?” He asked, and you looked where he was looking, then back at him.

“N-now?” You fumbled. “What about your party?”

He shrugged. “My roommates will handle it, people will be leaving soon anyway.”

You fidgeted, definitely not prepared for this but a little twitterpatted at the idea.

“I mean, if you really want to.”

“Yeah, lets do it.” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the couch. You looked down at where he held you, and blushed deeply.

You sat apart at a reasonable distance, the popcorn between you. Johnny sent a text to his roommates and few minutes later, the volume on the stereo went down. You never dreamed that a boy this cute would also be a lot more considerate and sweet. You had definitely not given him enough credit.

“What are you doing on Halloween?” He asked after awhile, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

“Hmm, nothing planned, really.”

“We can watch TV at my house, if you want. I’ve got a big screen.” He said, and grinned, trying to conceal your excitement.

“I’d like that.”

#personal

I have another free weekend from mowing the lawn out in the suburbs.  My mom wants to do it the weekend of the start of my vacation to coordinate with her Halloween decorations.  This last week was intense on many levels so it is nice to have some alone time to recoup.  It seems now more than ever there’s a bit of a conspicuous desperation around me at all times.  The exhausting ritual of deciphering who is trying to say what without saying it gets old.  There are times when it doesn’t.  People are often afraid to talk to each other.  When they do it’s pretty much as one sided as flashing a statement shirt in front of your face.  In America people fake it until they make it.  There’s this ambient pushiness from the status quo here at all times.  Chicago can be a little different.  People push back.  How artfully you resist is largely subjective and often not as effective as you’d like.  If I’ve learned anything from bouncing back and forth from here and New York is that consistency is key.  So is being nice.  Sometimes saying no is the nicest answer you have for some people.  Sometimes not saying anything and changing your route completely is better.  Navigating the topography of hypothetical fame is mostly an asteroid field of other people’s expectations.  People have ideas about you without ever asking for your consent here.  That’s anywhere in America and maybe even around the world.  A recent Snowden interview revealed that much of America’s surveillance state was in the hands of private contractors.  Our freedom of press here is dominated by millionaire pundits with vested interests in privatized capital.  Your best bet is a lawsuit.  Which is more money more problems as they say.  Special interests zone in on what they want to see.  Narratives in America are created for political gain all the time and spun right and left in a circle.  Most of this is for profit if not all.  There are times when journalism holds power accountable.  And then there’s times when a talking head goes too far.  Companies like Boeing going through what Nike went through in the nineties.  With zealots in the background chanting to burn it all down and start over from ash.  All very useful revolutionary feelings but the endgame is suspect.  With all the love for the Joker lately I’ve been bringing up the riddler a lot more.  More so that’s it’s funnier to say “Riddle me this” outloud for no reason.  But the Riddler at least had an endgame.  A question was being asked.  The Joker has no answer.  Too much of a failure to stand up without a mask.  It’s all a fucking joke so just laugh on the outside and cry on the inside.  The same could be said of Batman or worse.  Money being his superpower I empathized more when Heath Ledger set it all on fire.  A security guard did say they were going to see the movie this weekend.  I always try to pick the most positive thing to say in public in my dialogue tree.  “Oh Robert Deniro is in that right?”  They smiled and nodded.  I didn’t anything about incels or guns.  I told them to have a nice day.

There’s a time and place for action.  Knowing your part in it during particularly heavy and revolutionary times can be stressful.  Everybody expects from you what they would not do themselves.  People trick you constantly into caring about things that don’t deserve your attention.  The politics that I vote for are the jobs of politicians.  And yet I’ve had my life and privacy more encroached on by politics than what I’ve gotten back it seems.  If the personal is really political then self confidence is the most revolutionary action.  Helping others feel confident in the face of all this is a very heroic act.  But a knight in public for every cause doesn’t really leave much room for down time.  I don’t think it was a waste of my time.  I learned a lot of boundaries this summer.  I scaled a lot of walls in the process.  In the end I’m still right here.  Maybe a little less sensitive.  For as much as I try not to search for anything algorithms still bring the drama into my feed sometimes.  Pictures scroll by and I feel sad, pathetic and alone.  I feel like I’ll never be good enough.  Never famous enough to be cared about.  And then I walk to the grocery store and vice news guerilla interns are there to geotag my every step.  For all the time I spend in my apartment, my view from out my ktichen window is plagued by dystopian nightmares.  Just like my real dashboard is filled with traces of people I love.  What do you really pay attention is on you.  Do I really fear missing out of a hallucination of fame that doesn’t really follow any logic other than money?  For some people that’s their job.  For me I fix computers for artists.  The pay and the benefits are far more than I could ever make dj’ing .  I have a twenty year continuous resume doing so.  I’m sure I could find a job in New York if it made sense.  I’m sure I can fly there every two months by myself and stay occupied too.  I can tell people feel safe around me.  Sometimes I’m just trying to be left alone.  Nobody knows how much space I save in my life and for who.  Sometimes I get the sense that people do.  Sometimes that’s a very beautiful thing to see in action.  Like finding a question mark butterfly on a mailbox on your lunch break.  How that speaks to you can be as pure as nature or tainted by somebody else’s narrative.  That is unfortunately on you and your perspective.  For all the traps and tricks society has played on me I always come out looking like a winner.  I stayed positive.  Sometimes the only winning move is not to play.  Good luck unplugging from everything though.  The internet is a blessing and a curse.  Some platforms just like some movements have so much surface level noise and chaos that nobody gets heard.  Some people burrow so deep in doesn’t really matter.  In that I’ve found a lot of freedom for myself and what I love.  But it’s a constant negotiation.  And that’s a labor of love that keeps on going even through the coldest months to come.  I didn’t say it was easy.  But it’s always been worth it to me to live with what I’ve grown to love and care for deeply in my own way.  Love is probably the most revolutionary act there is in time’s like these.  But what that looks like requires you to love yourself first before it can even manifest.  So maybe the inside world is a good place to start before laying waste to the one outside your window.

Over two years I was inspired by something and someone enough to change.  I put things into motion in my life that required personal action.  It sucked from what I can remember.  But these days I look in the mirror at a different person.  I’m still unhappy at times.  Last week I got angry and depressed.  I thought that everything I tried to become was never going to be enough.  I felt trapped, alone and ignored.  And I realized that wasn’t actually true and focused on other things.  I played games at my kitchen table.  I cleaned my shower.  I applied data analytics to my bank statement with a microsoft application.  I worked out in my kitchen using a Nike app.  I made amazing coffee in my kitchen.  I rolled more than enough joints to know a thing or two about the World of Warcraft movie.  I played records in the back room and streamed Code Vein from my PS4.  I thought a lot about what I want and what I desire.  I paid attention to some things more and other things less.  I listened to my voice when I was speaking and others.  Some people always sound unhappy.  I sound measured and sane.  Sometimes I don’t speak at all.  Sometimes there’s things I really desperately want to say.  Sometimes I know you already know.  I trust that you do.  Have faith that you do.  And I never really expected anything other than that.  And yet miracles are what you make of them.  Life can either be one constant paranoid mindfuck or a tiny green planet in a never ending universe.  How you see that in your mind is reflected in the words you speak.  The pictures you take.  The songs you sing.  The people you avoid.  The bullshit you sacrifice for a garden that blooms yearly.  Things don’t happen overnight.  If you appreciate how things live and grow you know everything takes time.  We’re all so stressed about how much of it we have left.  Are we really enjoying any of it as it passes?  I know the times I put into challenging myself has rewarded me with good health.  People still treat me like a kid all the time.  People have been limiting my potential for as long as I remember.  It’s kept me out of some bad circles and scenes.  I’ve grown largely in isolation by choice.  It’s not a fun thing to be alone all the time.  It looks worse when you lash out.  I’ve been there.  Spitting at the ground all summer because some people got it twisted.  I thought I could fight these irrational battles that are just for show.  I’ve learned it’s more about setting an example.  Leading instead of following.  These days I can’t seem to avoid all the traffic.  Really at the end of the day I just want to run into you.  And I do on the highway we call the internet all the time.  With your tinted windows and your stretch limousine.  You see me waving.  Next time I’ll blow you a kiss.  I’m sure nobody will notice if I stay in my lane.  <3 Tim

Jack Skellington -- Character Sheet

everybody's waiting for the next surprise / skeleton Jack might catch you in the back / and scream like a banshee / make you jump out of your skin / this is halloween, everybody scream

won't ya please make way for a very special guy / our man Jack is King of the Pumpkin patch / everyone hail to the Pumpkin King, now!

Archetype — The Hero Birthday — October 31, 1960 Zodiac Sign — Scorpio MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — 7, the enthusiast Temperament — Sanguine Hogwarts House — Slytherpuff Moral Alignment — Chaotic Good Primary Vice — Pride Primary Virtue — Charity Element — Air

[tw -- miscarriage mention, implied abuse (but v vague)]

Overview:

Mother — Eve (nee Meyer) Schildkraut (deceased) Father — Benjamin Schildkraut (deceased) Mother’s Occupation — homemaker Father’s Occupation — construction worker Family Finances — Poor (until Jack got rich.) Birth Order — Only child. Brothers —  None. Sisters — None. (Had a miscarried sister.) Other Close Family — Fern Bristlecape (second ex-wife) (FC: Sarah Michelle Gellar), Nemesis Hellsplat (first ex-wife) (FC: Katey Sagal), Hecuba Hellsplat (daughter, 32) (FC: Natalie Portman), Luna Bristlecape (daughter, 22) (FC: Emmy Rossum) Best Friend — None. Other Friends — None. They all dropped him when he fell out of favor, think about THAT. Enemies — None, tbh. Anti-Magick people probably. Pets — None. He should probably get a dog or something. Home Life During Childhood — Rough. His dad was a drinker and spent all their money, and he wouldn’t listen to his wife about needing to save any of it. Jack was always a...creative boy and his father saw it as emasculating, so he didn’t really tolerate Jack’s love of theatre. Which is why he moved out at such a young age (18). Once he had the money, he tried to convince his mom to move to LA with him, it didn’t work. Town or City Name(s) — Swynlake, England (born), LA, California, USA (where he’s lived most of his life.) What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — POSTERS. POSTERS EVERYWHERE. Jack spent the meager amount of money he did make as a young boy mowing lawns to go to the movies and to buy posters to decorate every surface of his room. Any Sports or Clubs — Drama club, secretly. Football, outwardly. Wasn’t actually half-bad but he got benched a lot because his heart just wasn’t in it. Also! Plays jazz piano. His mumma taught him. Favorite Toy or Game — Make-up. Dress-up. Dolls, so that he could act out his favorite scenes from movies. Spent a lot of time just--memorizing shit and monologuing to his mother while she cleaned the house. She called him her little parrot. Schooling — Went to Swynlake Primary and Secondary. No university. Favorite Subject — English and Drama. Popular or Loner — Popular. Definitely. Important Experiences or Events — Moving to LA! His first job! All his subsequent jobs! The birth of his daughters! The destruction of his career. Nationality — British Culture — LA (yes, that is a culture fight me.) Religion and beliefs — Jewish, but nonpracticing. Believes in hardwork.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim —  Jeff Goldblum Complexion — Darker skin tone but still fair. Hair Colour — Salt’n’pepper, used to be black. Eye Colour — Hazel. Height — 6’4 Build — Skeletal Tattoos — None. Piercings — None. Common Hairstyle — Coiffed. Clothing Style — Eccentric, loves a good turtleneck. Mannerisms — Very Loud and wiggly. Is never sitting still for long. Likes to climb on furniture. Doesn’t sit in chairs properly. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Nah, he’s in good health. Physical Ailments — None. Neurological Conditions — None. Some depression? Allergies —  Probably seasonal. Grooming Habits — Pretty good, ofc. Has to keep in Tip Top shape, even if he no longer has stylists Sleeping Habits — Has a bad case of insomnia. Eating Habits — Eats well, he’s a vegan. Exercise Habits —  Exercises more or less regularly. Does yoga mostly. And like...cycling. Emotional Stability — Has a lot of shit going on underneath but pretty chill outwardly. Body Temperature — Runs a little cold actually. Always has cold af hands. Sociability — Super social! Though mostly for his own benefit. Addictions — None. Drug Use — Used to be heavier. Probably smokes weed, but also do we want a Jack high on the marijuana? Alcohol Use — Frequent but not abnormal.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — Talking over people, being self-centered, being insensitive. Good Habits — He tries !! and he’s very healthy aha Best Characteristic — He CARES, he’s just not great at showing it Worst Characteristic — Literally does not care. Worst Memory — Getting absolutely destroyed by all media outlets and falling from grace. Best Memory — The premiere of hemlock hill ofc! Proud of — His career. Embarrassed by — Not much, really, but deeply upset about his career being trashed. Driving Style — Erratic lmao Strong Points — He is a very good teacher, when he actually focuses properly. Temperament — Always good-natured! Unless you really piss him off, he can turn really cold and vicious almost without warning. Attitude — Happy-go-lucky, outwardly anyway. Weakness — Caring too much what other people think, while also not listening to anything people say when they give advice. Fears — becoming irrelevant. Phobias — None. Secrets — That he is Deeply Unhappy. Regrets — Lots of things, mostly not having a good relationship with his daughter, Hecuba, which is why he has a better one with Luna. Feels Vulnerable When — People drag up the shit that made him lose his career and fame. Pet Peeves — People not recognizing him or being purposefully obtuse. Conflicts — Wanting to continue to be famous v refusing to change. Motivation — To be Famous. Short Term Goals and Hopes — To be Famous again. Long Term Goals and Hopes — To be Famous again. Sexuality — Straight, but he can be convinced, probably has had dalliances with men. Exercise Routine  — Does yoga every morning and evening. Day or Night Person — Night owl, for sure. Introvert or Extrovert — EXTROVERT. Optimist or Pessimist — Optimist.

Likes and Styles:

Music — Jack can play the piano and was in a jazz band for a while, so he loves music, especially jazz! But, really, he can get into anything. He tries to stay #hip for his students. Books — His book, of course, you should read it. Also reads a lot of plays/scripts. Magazines — Any magazine that mentions him. Foods — He’s a vegan! So, vegan food. Loves a good tofu. Has to eat well to keep his svelte figure. Drinks — Tall, half-caff, soy latte at 120 degrees. (I have absolutely no idea what this means but I googled “complicated starbucks orders” and this is what came up.) Also, likes tea. The like one piece of British culture he retained. Animals — Jack is very fond of strange animals–like okapis or the maned wolf. Animals that are just truly bizarre looking. Bonus points if they are obnoxiously large like giraffes. Sports — Played football in secondary. Wasn’t that bad. Social Issues — Magick Rights! Also, considers himself a feminist. (He’s not a terrible ally...but he’s also not perfect by any means.) Favorite Saying — “Acting is not about being someone different. It's finding the similarity in what is apparently different, then finding myself in there.” ~ Meryl Streep Color — Jack is a big fan of black and white–a solid, classic combination that you can’t go wrong with. That’s not to say he doesn’t love color, because he ABSOLUTELY does. It is just that black and white is his favorite combination. Clothing — Loves to dress brightly and fashionably! Jewelry — Not a whole lot. Wears nice watches, probably some rings/necklaces. Websites — His website, which I should make lmao. TV Shows — Hemlock Hill. Movies — His movies, Greatest Want — To be famous. Greatest Need — To learn.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — A large, eccentric mansion on top of a hill. I like to think that it is across from Cruella’s house. It is, of course, called the Skellington Mansion. Household furnishings — An eclectic combination of modern with like the skeleton of a Victorian mansion, so like really ornate, heavy curtains--but a white leather sofa. Favorite Possession — His Emmys. Most Cherished Possession — Is this not the same thing - Jack Neighborhood — The Woods Married Before — Twice! Once to a sorceress-actress, once to a fairy-model. Significant Other Before — Lots of girlfriends probably (all Magicks). Children — Hecuba Hellsplat and Luna Bristlecape Relationship with Family — Estranged for the most part. He barely, if ever, speaks to his ex-wives. Talks with Hecuba very rarely. Has the best relationship with Luna. She’s his bb girl. Car — Some speedster probably, a nice fancy, flashy car. Career — Actor. Dream Career — Actor. Dream Life — He had his dream life. Cry. Love Life — More or less nonexistent. Talents or Skills — Excellent at memorization. A good parrot (can mimic mannerisms/speech patterns really well.) Can play the jazz piano! Intelligence Level — Quite high on certain things, absolutely clueless on others. There is not a lot of in between, really. Finances — Still wealthy af, he has like a successful 40 year career to live off of for the foreseeable future.

New Zealand Roadtrip with a Toddler - The Route

I am at home, Mia is sitting next to me watching cartoons, and I just  can’t believe how extremely lucky I was to spent over a month with her. Just us girls, no daddy, no family, just us. As I’ve been very intense with my Instagram stories, I read through all the feedback. It was such a beautiful feeling to read all your positive comments and the strange ones as well. I just want to write that I went on this journey without over thinking it or without a special preparation. I had no plan where to go and what to do. But it’s all because I’ve been traveling in New Zealand with Tomasz about 9 years ago and I knew how easy it will be. And it was.

Here is our route:

Christchurch - we started here. I picked up Miss Sunshine and had no idea what’s next. I bought all the food I needed, diapers and sat in a cafe to feed Mia with pancakes and figure out my next move. I’ve decided that Lake Tekapo will be just perfect as the first destination. I also found a perfect camping place on a top of a hill, which turned out not to be possible, as you have to book via phone. In the end we slept on a parking spot next to a public toilet. But before that, we had a walk in a breathtaking scenery in Godley Head Park and I happily felt that our journey has started.

This is also the best moment to tell you, that it’s a great idea to get one of the apps, which tell you where is the next camping or free camping, next petrol station, toilet or a beautiful view spot. It i super helpful and includes comments of other travellers, which I read like crazy. It helped me to find the most beautiful free camping and saved me from pushing Miss Sunshine to the next gas station.

You also want to buy a SIM card with internet. You have a choice between Vodaphone, where you have better and more internet or Spark, which has a numerous spots around NZ, where you can get additional 1000mg of internet per day for free. When you're there, you will understand what it means.

The next morning we bought a few more essentials like Mia's glasses and a tiny yellow car and we hit the road.

Lake Tekapo - is a beautiful spot, oh wow, so beautiful! But you need to have a proper approach. It was our first stop, we stayed at a paid campground just in front of the lake and it was super comfy. I let Mia make a scene under a shower and she made me walk into an extremely cold lake as she wanted to swim (bath no no no but lake yes yes yes). This kid has no borders at all. She was sitting on a floating raft, playing with water and refused to leave for quite some time. Then a group of teenagers joined us and she could not be happier, even though they totally ignored her. She literally had the time of her life and was trying to convince me to let her jump into the water just like they did - I said no but she kept trying :)

In Lake Tekapo there’s a beautiful tiny church, which you want to see as it looks amazing, especially at night with the sky covered with stars. Check online when the moon is down (this is why we came back over here), you will see so many stars that it’s difficult to believe. Also a must is a walk or a drive to the Mt John Observatory, where you have a stunning view on the lake from above and they have a yummy cafe over there as well. I’d definitely suggest walking, but in my case it did not work, as Mia said “stop it!”. We drove and as it’s a private road, you need to pay $8.

Mt. Cook, Aoraki - you have to drive along Lake Pukaki to get to the spot, where you can start tracking. The drive is magnificent (I can use big words over here quite a lot). You will see mountains and the most beautiful lake in New Zealand (I can say it quite a lot over here as well, just accept it) and you will stop each 5 minutes or even more often to take a picture (I did). We made it all the way to a DOC campsite aka Free Camping, the only place you can stay with your campervan and I wanted to go for a walk. Mia emphatically refused, so I’ve decided to go back and make a dinner on a viewpoint to see the sunset. It was so worth it! You can go down to the lake and the beach is beautiful.

After the sunset I started to look for a Freedom camping and I found one perfect over Lake Pukaki.

Lake Pukaki - I think that this lake has the most beautiful colour from all of them. The site - next to Tekapo Canal Road, was perfect. Located on a stony beach just next to a lake, you wake up to a beautiful colour of a water and a view of Mt. Cook. There are fireplaces so most probably you can make a small fire. We did not, as there was a strong wind. The thing about this lake is, that wherever you go, whatever spot around it you’ll choose, it will be beautiful.

Lindis Pass - it’s a pass on a way from Lake Pukaki to Wanaka and wow, this is so beautiful. The colours, the shapes… Just look at the picture. I’ve been trying to take more than one picture, but Mia decided to become an acrobat for an hour, so I’ve been mostly freaking out.

Lake Wanaka - We went there for a walk, you may say. It has some beautiful trekking, but Mia wasn’t interested, so we ended up looking at a famous tree growing in the lake and we had a fast swim (Mia had). It is a beautiful area, but I’s a bigger fan of Lake Pukaki.

Queenstown - that was an adventure. The road between Wanaka and Queenstown was not created for Miss Sunshine and I was driving 10 km/h in a few points. It was a stunning road, just difficult. Queenstown welcomed us with a beautiful light and enormous amount of tourists. I did not like it. You can do some bungee jumping over here, the views are beautiful, it’s just too busy for me. That’s why we stopped for a night in a freedom camping outside of the town. Accidentally my battery died and I had no reception and if it wasn’t for a sweet neighbour, I’d be still standing there. This is how you learn to be talkative during your travels, how you make friends and how you figure out how to start a dead battery.

  Mossburn Country Park - we stopped here on our way to Milford Sound. This place is so cool when you travel with kids! They have sheep and llamas and give you food, so kids can feed them. You can imagine Mia’s reaction, it’s an explosion of happiness. I had a dream to live in a small house and own one cow, one ship and three chicks. She made this dream even more vivid.

Milford Sound - wow wow wow. Just look at it. It’s wow! We got there in the evening to watch the sunset. It was almost empty and it felt like we have it only for ourselves. All the tourists come in the morning and leave in the evening, so I do recommend staying overnight at the only one campsite there is. You have to be prepared on hundreds of flies, which will not bite, but sit on every piece of your uncovered body. I saw some people wearing hats and nets - great idea. I definitely recommend sunrise and sunset and a boat cruise. We saw not only a beautiful nature and learned about it from our funny crue, but we also saw dolphins and sea lions. We chose a first Cruze of a day, including a big breakfast, and it was a great choice. Mia did appreciate it. In the area, there’s a lot of Kias who will try to steal your food or anything you have and they can carry. There are especially two points - before and after the tunnel. Go out and play with them, so much fun.

South cost

Straight away we started to drive in the South coast direction with the first stop in Colac Bay, I want to write that this was my most favourite free camping (located on a stone beach), but I would have to repeat myself quite often. Waking up to a colourful sky with soon coffee in my hand and kid sleeping (almost each morning story) was like a dream come true. It was so perfect and empty with turists that I wanted to stay there longer. Obviously I got curious about other possible stops so we left, but on the way out we flirted a bit with a beautiful horse.

Otara - our next stop, where is a beautiful white lighthouse with red door and sea lions sleeping on a beach. You need to take a very short walk, views are spectacular and sea lions just there. You don’t want to come closer than 10m, but hey, it’s only 10m from this magnificent creatures!!! Wow Wow Wow!

Papatowai - we stopped there for a moment as, again, THE VIEW! There’s a green lawn with chilled cows just next to the water. The colours were…

Nugget Point Lighthouse - what a spot! It’s so worth coming here! Mia got wild and it was not kid friendly, so I carried her and except for a phone snap I have no pictures, but what I saw will always stay in my heart. Definitely worth a visit for the sunrise or sunset.

Kaka Point - we stayed here for a night, as it’s close to the Nugget Point Lighthouse and has a very nice beach. We had our breakfast there and then we were running with Mia for an hour or so. She got so tired that she fell asleep within a few minutes and I could drive.

Shag Point - You will see an enormous amount of sea lions over here.

Canibals Beach - again sea lions, what can I say, I like animals. Mia could not be less interested. She kept playing with sand and I kept staring at sea lions. Each one of us did her own thing. I like this beach because not many people come here and it's like being in your own piece of a beach. With sea lions.

Moeraki - there are penguins! It is so amazing to see a pinguin in a natural environment. I did cry a bit. Mia did not, she was busy climbing up and down three stairs there were.

Moeraki Boulders - we went there to see round rocks on a beach. It was fun. It’s one of these spots where you have no idea what the whole fuss is about, but kids do enjoy it. For the night we went back on a beautiful freedom camping just on a beach (Katiki (north end)). What I love about freedom campings on the South Coast is, that you have all these beautiful locations with almost no tourists around. I could grab my coffee and, yet again, sit on a beach and enjoy the view. If you’re lucky you will see few sea lions and penguins as well. One day I tell Mia about all the encounters I had while she was sleeping.

Clark’s Mill - From Moeraki we started our way back to lakes area, to get to the other side of the island. I saw a sign for an old mill and I’ve decided to go there with Mia, so she can see some cool New Zealand stuff. I ended up on the best festival possible. There were old tractors, ladies wearing dresses from a previous century, the most delicious scones based on a very old recipe, they made some flour by hand, showed me the whole process and for Mia there were all the games. We wanted just to see a mill and we spent there 4 hours. Clark’s Mill is the place to stop.

While driving we had an obligatory stop, as there was a huge fire. For the first time in my life I saw helicopters collecting water from lakes and spreading it above burning fields. I have so much respect for a volunteer fire department. This whole action lasted only for an hour or so, even though the fire spread like crazy. Big respect.

Lake Havea - we came here in the evening, just before the sunset. OMG what a view. We stopped on a DOC freedom camping, where not many people get and, yet again, it was so worth it. We were sitting with Mia in our van, talking about dinosaurs and watching the colours in the sky changing with each minute. We also played with stones, had some pasta and fell asleep being filled with happiness. Lake Havea has a few view spots on a way and you should stop on each one of them, as each one is different. I love to stop just next to a water, and there’s this one stop, where you can do it and have a lunch or breakfast or just a swim. If I could tell you what made Mia happy during our travel, this is one of these things. Staying next to a lake, so she can walk into a water constantly.

Haast - we stopped here for a night, yet again, on a freedom camping located just next to a beach. In the evening I was walking around, playing in sand with Mia (then sleeping in the sand that she brought back) and not realising that we’re being bitten by sand flies. It was a difficult experience, waking up in a night not being able not to scratch. Mia had much more dignity in the whole situation that I did. The next thing I did was to google how to avoid bites. I created a magical mixture, which a woman from a gas station shared with me and it did work. Be alert, sand flies have no marcy. I also have to mention that the road between Lake Have a and Haast is beautiful. You want to stop each kilometre just to look.

Ship Creek - beautiful place to stop for a walk. It’s obviously breathtaking (I’m overusing this world). Of course, there’s a serious sand fly problem, but if you cover yourself well and use a good spray, you don’t need to worry about it. I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets over there and that was also a place where I was freaking out that Mia will be kidnapped by one of the huge waves. She really wanted to swim there and when I said no, she found a new game - how to freak out mama by trying to run into the water.

Lake Paringa - we stopped here for a night, there’s a freedom camping with a beautiful view over a lake. In the morning it was covered with a fog and it felt like you’re in a middle of a horror movie. Still, pretty awesome if you ask me.

  Bruce Bay - we stopped here for a morning coffee. The beach is stunning, if you’re lucky, you will see dolphins playing in the waves. There’s a trailer with the best coffee I had in New Zealand.

Franz Josef Glacier - a few years ago I made a trekking over here and it was amazing. This year I took a helicopter flight and it was one of the most amazing things I did in my life. I was standing on a glacier! And Mia as well! We definitely took wrong shoes for this adventure, but who cares. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for a long time and even now, a few weeks later, I have chills. What an experience! If you can, do it. It’s one in a lifetime kind of experience. My 2 year old kid loved it as well, even more, she refused to leave the helicopter when we flew back.

Okarito - is perfect for kayaking. We did not do it, as with Mia it would be a life hazard. Instead, we spend a few hours in a water, on an ankle deep level and in a hut on a pier, which was pretty amazing. Very moody. We’ve been there by ourselves and played as it was our home. I also took  many pictures, as Mia was so creative with each new idea.  I simply loved how it looked. I’d love to have a little house like this one.

Hokitika - lovely town with a  beautiful beach. It was nice to stop there, eat something yummy and visit a local bookstore. There’s a black sand on a beach and we played there with Mia like crazy.

Kumara Junction - just before a turn leading you inside of the land, you need to turn into one of the side roads to get to the beach. It was so beautiful that I could not believe it. I wanted to stay there for longer, so I started to make crepes. The light was perfect, no-one around. A dream stop.

Lake Poerua - I have no idea why I stopped here, I just had a feeling. Lake different that all the others, beautiful. Go there!

Arthur’s Pass - Kia alert! This awesome bird will try to take over everything you own and is small. Even the phone is in danger. It all makes you want to hang out with them even more :D

The whole Arthur pass is stunning. I had to stop on a way to let 20 cars pass me (I was pretty slow driving up hill) and I met a local man, having a coffee break. I told him that I’ve been traveling in New Zealand for almost 3 weeks and each day I have a feeling that I see something even more beautiful that the day before. He answered that he lives here his own life and still feels like it. This is a whole truth about New Zealand, it will keep a part of your heart forever. We got stuck in a phone booth for an hour as Mia needed to call a few friends, which means playing with a phone. I loved it. Each minute of it.

Lake Pearson has a beautiful Freedom Camping with wild ducks coming for a visit. They want your food and your attention, but mostly your food. Mia chased them away, as she really wanted to be their friend, but they kept coming back to ask for crepes. Life, I suppose. This was also a place where Mia let me make her a pony tail and it stayed on her head for almost 10 minutes. It made me so happy.

We went back to Lake Tekapo to be there when the Moon sets together with the Sun. The night was so dark, that I could see millions of stars. I will always remember it. It was crazy cold, so I took only a few shots. But then I was lying with Mia, she was sleeping and I was looking at the stars. Such an unforgettable thing to do. We also met Miss Sunshine’s twin Daisy and sweet twosometravellers , who shared some bread with us to feed ducks. I do like to feed ducks. They’re cute. We stayed just next to Lake Alexandria for a night and the next day we drove all the way up to the Lake Tekapo viewpoint. There were no tourists at all, no other cars, just us and Miss Sunshine. The views… OMG… Lake Tekapo has so much to offer. This was a great drive next to a lake. There is that one farm on a way and I was fantasizing about living over there.

We drove to Lake Pukaki next, to make a fire at night, but wind was so strong that we didn’t. It was an area where apparently you could, as it was a big stoney beach, but I didn’t want to risk. So in the end, I was admiring the stars at night.

  Wakanui - our last evening with Miss Sunshine we spent in Wakanui, on our way back to Christchurch. The DOC Freedom Camping was beautiful, in a tiny town close buy we found a sweet cafe with fluffy (babycino in NZ way) and breakfast, also a very impressive playground, that Mia took advantage of.

On our way back we had a tiny oil leaking problem, which made our trip even more adventurous, as I had to refill oil in some strange spots, mostly in a middle of nowhere or on a highway. This may be a disadvantage of traveling with an old car, but there’s a countless number of advantages, so I just ignored this small accident. In my heart Miss Sunshine is the best car in the whole world.

I made over 100 videos and I hope to make something out of it soon . I've been traveling a lot without Mia before she existed (which I can hardly remember), but this journey was very special. I descovered with a big relief that my kid is the best travel companion in the whole world. Sorry daddy, you've been replaced!

A Race With No End: The Sisyphean Nightmare of Big’s Backyard Ultra

It’s 6:13 in the morning. The sun is about to break over the Tennessee countryside. I’ve already run 98.8 miles. And now, I find myself passing the two giant piles of frozen burritos that have been sitting—inexplicably—in the middle of the road all night. This is the twenty-fourth time I’ve passed them. 

I may have to pass them another twenty-four times before this is all over. Or maybe not. I may have to run for another 100 miles. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Because, you see, I’m running in a race that has no finish line. And it’s starting to drive me insane.

This self-inflicted torture began three years earlier when, I stumbled across a race report detailing a crazy little race in the Middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. Its premise was so simple yet so evil: Last man standing wins. 

Big’s Backyard Ultra has no set time or distance. Just a 4.1667-mile loop that each runner has to complete within an hour, over and over and over, until they can’t. Contestants continue running this macabre, Sisyphean loop until ultimately, there’s only one poor soul left. He or she wins. Everyone else DNFs. Like it never even happened.

My mind began to swirl. How far could I run if I had to run forever? Would my body or my mind give up first? What would it be like to be one of the last two people left, stuck in a stumbling, mutually self-destructive duel of wills? Also, just in general, WTF? 

Like some kind of Phillip K. Dick fever dream, this insanity was cooked up by ultrarunning’s resident madman, Lazarus Lake. He’s the evil genius behind the even-more-infamous Barkley Marathons. And after being personally tortured by him for more than a day straight, I can say that he is a true artist. The Leonardo da Vinci of pain. The Rembrandt of mind games. The Lady Gaga of suffering. A master of sadomasochistic craft.

In 2014 the race went for 49 hours. The winning distance, 204.2 miles. Actually, “winning” isn’t really the correct term. Johan Steene and Jeremy Ebel started on Saturday morning. Saturday became Sunday. Sunday became Monday. The two dueled for so long that Johan was in danger of missing his flight back to Sweden. So, with no other option, he was forced to drop. In an ultimate sign of sportsmanship, Jeremy chose to drop as well. So both men ran 204.2 miles, which is an incredible feat. What’s even more incredible is that because of the Last Man Standing rule, they both actually lost. (Laz later told me this detail with a twinkle of pride in his eyes.)

Naturally, I became obsessed with the race.

Fast forward a few years to me, towing the starting line in Lazarus’s backyard. It’s a beautiful, still Saturday in October somewhere in B.F.E., Tennessee.

Three minutes before the start, Laz blows three whistles. “Oh man, you’re gonna love hearing that thang 20 hours from now,” he says with a grin. Two minutes before the start, he blows the whistle twice. “Almost time.” He’s like a seven-year-old boy about to torture a frog. One minute left, one whistle blow. “Get in here so I can draw the corral!” he hollers. Using a can of orange spray paint, he draws a box around us on his crunchy, dead lawn. At the start of every hour, we have to be standing inside this corral to begin the next loop. Unless, of course, we can’t.

The race clock ticks to 00:00:00, and Laz gives his cowbell a hearty shake. We’re off. Forty-seven human beings setting out to test the limits of our bodies and basic common sense. 

Unlucky number 85

For months, I had worried about how best to run this thing. But within one loop, I quickly realize that the most important is a single world: consistency. In a typical 100-miler, it’s a guarantee that you’ll experience rough patches. Your legs will feel like lead. You’ll get overheated. Your stomach will rebel. But you can always sit down, hit pause and sort yourself out. Hey, you have 30 hours to finish this thing. But with Big’s, there’s no forgiveness. You get in a bad place, and you still have to be standing in the corral when Laz rings the cowbell at the next hour. Razor-thin margin of error. 

After I finish each loop, I plop down in my REI chair and rustle through my bags. (Another fun challenge, no aid stations!) I refill my bottles, scarf down some food and attend to issues. But no matter where you’re sitting, you have a front-row seat for the main attraction: the race clock. It’s big and bright and just keeps tick, tick, ticking away. The seconds keep marching mercilessly towards the next hour and the next loop. Yay.

Running ultras has taught me that time is malleable; it can bend and warp. As I run from starting line to finish line, I often get the sensation I’m detached from time, floating along in my own jet stream. This race is the opposite. There’s no starting line and no finish line. No matter what you do, in one hour, you’ll end up right back where you started. It’s like a cruel mash-up of Saw and Groundhog Day. With possibly more grunting.

Pre-race meal planning: 20 pounds of gels, fried chicken, Mountain Dew and half a pie

Personal aid station or refugee camp? Really, both.

My first morning goes relatively well. I’m feeling good and running consistently. There’s a group of four of us in a front pack, choosing to run at a comfortably brisk pace. We run and chat and laugh for hours, and quickly become a weird little band of friends. It’s a solid distraction. But at the same time, somewhere in the back of my mind, I keep hearing the voice remind me, They’re the competition. A seed of Survivor-style paranoia is planted. I try to shake it for the time being.

Morning turns to afternoon. The temperature climbs into the mid-80s. People start to drop. We’re less than 50 miles in, and already more than half the field is gone. Images of WWII flash in my brain for some reason.

At the start/finish/coral, Laz and his cohorts—who are all dressed as prison inmates—crack the same joke, lap after lap. “Way to go! You’re back in first place!” or “Allllright! You were in second, but now you’re tied for first!” “There he is! First place runner right there!” The joke goes on for hours. It seems to get funnier to them each time they repeat it.

But here’s the thing. The more loops I run, the more I realize it’s not a joke. It’s the core truth of this entire race. Because everyone really is in first place until they drop. Whether you finish your loop in 44 minutes or 59 minutes, if you’re still running, you’re still winning. In fact, during the infamous 204.2-mile race, that was exactly the breakdown. Johan ran 44-minute loops consistently for 49 hours, while Jeremy ran right at the edge of cut-off each loop. There is no strategy. My brain starts to death-spiral as I realize that no matter how hard I work, I’ll always be in first place, like everyone else. Time is a flat circle.

Run, rest, repeat

In the evening, the race switches to an out-and-back stretch on 4.1667 miles of paved country road. Twelve hours and 50 miles into the race, there are only ten of us suckers left inside the corral. Surprisingly, this proves to be a nice mental break. While you run the trail, all you want to do is last until the road. Once you’re on the road, all you want to do is last until the trail. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

And while road isn’t nearly as interesting as trail, it does provide a few new novelties. Tonight, the moon is so bright we don’t even need headlamps, so we glide through the Tennessee countryside like tattered, sweaty ghosts.

During our first loop, my newfound friends and I notice two lumpy piles of something sitting in the road near what looks like an abandoned house. We wonder aloud what the piles are, and I say, “They kind of look like a bunch of frozen burritos.” Everyone laughs. It’s preposterous. And I’m sure in the back of their heads, their Survivor voice whispers, Excellent. He’s starting to hallucinate. He’s a goner for sure. On the next loop, as we near the piles I tell them, “I wanna see what those are. I really think they’re frozen burritos.” “Ha, OK,” they laugh again. We drift towards the two piles, flick on our headlamps and HOLY SHIT THEY REALLY ARE A BUNCH OF FROZEN BURRITOS. Seriously. Two huge piles of half-melted, frozen burritos. There must be 100 or so. Just sitting in the road. 

It’s by far the weirdest non-hallucination I’ve ever had during a race. (Weirdest actual hallucination: Obi Wan Kenobi in the middle of Hawaiian jungle.)

A few loops later, the burrito piles are flanked by two hound dogs sleeping in the road. Back at the start/finish, someone mentions the whole situation to Laz, and he conjectures that the owners must be out of town so they left some food out for their dogs. This makes no sense, but it also seems like the only reasonable explanation. Sort of a metaphor for Big’s as a whole.

The night marches on.

In the lull between one of the early evening laps, Laz taunts me, “You might wanna try to get some sleep. You’re gonna wish you had it when it’s this time tomorrow night.” Awesome, I think. So on top of everything else, now I have to try to sleep between each loop?? But, he did have a point. I throw a shirt over my head and try to not exist for a few minutes. It never works. Every time I’m about to doze off, I hear that “TWEEET, TWEEET, TWEEEEEET” of Laz’s three whistles.

The night creeps by, both slowly and quickly. Each loop becomes a sadistic episode of déjà vu. And each time, it becomes that much harder to get out of the chair and into the corral.

By the time dawn breaks over the Tennessee hills, there are just four of us left. Also, two piles of road burritos, mostly uneaten.

Twenty-four hour in and spirits are 👍

One hundred miles and 24 hours in, the Final Four line up for our first lap of the new day: me, Charlie Engle (famous for running across the Sahara, infamous for spending 21 months in prison for mortgage fraud), John Starpes (who’s put in a gritty performance, staying just ahead of  the cut-offs every lap) and Babak Rastgoufard (a quiet dude in glasses with a big ole mop of hair who Laz and Co have enjoyed calling “Babagnoush” all day).

With a twinkle in his eye, Laz reminds us that we’re all in first place. Then he rings that damn cowbell.

How long can this go on?

Lap 25 goes off without a hitch. Lap 26, John falters. He doesn’t make the cut-off. One down. Three still in.

Just one mile into Lap 27, I feel a pain shoot through my left heel. It’s my Achilles tendon. How cosmically ironic, I mumble. My Achilles heel. The sudden reappearance of my chronic injury means my race is over.

However, Charlie is staring to look pretty worked. Against better judgment, I decide I’ll only go back out for another loops if Charlie comes in with two minutes to spare. Pride will be the death of me.

Back at home base, Laz blows his whistle three times. No sign of Charlie. I start to get excited. He blows his whistle twice. No sign of Charlie. Thank God. And then, “There he is!” Charlie bursts out of the woods. Ugh.

I grab my bottle and trudge over to the starting corral. A minute later, the three of us set off again. This is my last loop, I promise myself.

It’s been 112 miles. As I hobble in, I tell my mom (who has been horrified for two days straight) that that is my last loop… “unless Charlie comes in with, like, 30 seconds left.” I cringe as I hear the words coming out of my mouth.

We sit there waiting. Three whistles and no Charlie. Two whistles, no Charlie. One whistle, no Charlie. Then, just like an underdog movie scene, Charlie comes barreling out of the woods. I close my eyes. “Dammit, Charlie.” I think that’s the first time I’ve cussed in front of my mom. 

Charlie crosses the line with 35 seconds left. Resigned to my fate, I shuffle into the starting corral. Now on the ground, Charlie throws up his hands. “No más. I’m done.” “Noooo!” the crowd cries. The cowbell rings. Charlie doesn’t move. It’s just me and Babak now.

As soon as we get out of earshot of the crowd, I turn to him and say, “Hey man, this is gonna be my last loop.” “What?” he’s confused. “Yeah, my leg is hurt really badly. I can’t run on it anymore. You ran a hell of a race. Congrats, man.” “Ah man, I’m sorry…” he commiserates for a second. And then, he looks me in the eyes, “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” “Ha, no. I promise.” “’Cause that’d be kinda messed up,” he double-checks. “I promise, I’m not fucking with you.” I told you, this race messes with your head.

 Even though I’m about to lose, it feels like a victory lap. I’m going to enjoy it. I say goodbye to all the little landmarks I’ve spent the last day with—the crumbly rock, Kat’s Cave, the edge of the field, the top of the hill. Forty-seven minutes later, we burst out of the woods and into the sun. The crowd cheers.

I stride across the line one last time. 116 miles in 27:48. I immediately bend down and rip the timing tracker off my ankle. “I’m tapping out,” I announce. “NOOOOO,” the crowd erupts in unison. “YOU CAN’T.”  “I have to.” I explain my injury. But they’re having none of it. They came to see a bloodbath.

I sit on the ground in front of Laz. He stares down at me with the tenderness of some sort of hillbilly Santa Claus. “You sure you wanna drop? You still got plenty of time.” He speaks with a mixture of genuine care for me and morbid interest in seeing this spectacle dragged out as long as possible. “Thanks but I’m really done.” “Alright then.”

A few minutes later, Babak is standing alone in the starting coral. We all start chanting his name “Babak! Babak! Babak!” as he takes off on the very last loop of the race, solo. I’m Second-to-Last Man Standing. 

Striding out once more

Tapping out

 Big’s Backyard Ultra asks everything of you as a runner and as a human being. It’s as fascinating and as terrible a race as will ever be dreamed up. Its genius lies in its simplicity. And the more time I spent around Lazarus—trust me, I had about 15 minutes every hour for 28 hours straight—the more I became convinced that he’s some kind of savant.

The world is a better place because of madmen like Lazarus Lake. And I’m a better person for living through his terrible genius firsthand. Because now I’ve run a race with no end.

And also someone gave me a Long Day Lager afterwards

 Epilogue 

Unbeknownst to me, throughout the race, Lazarus composed strange, little updates that he blasted out every loop. Each reads like the beautiful poetry of a sadistic Thoreau. 

if we did this to dogs, they would throw us in jail.

hour 8 just began. 25 runners are praying they can survive 5 more hours and reach the road loops...

here is what they keep saying, as they drop and drop and drop;

if only this was just a 100 miler, and i could take a break. just 5 minutes. that is all i need.

24 runners are alive, out on the trail and the whistles start again in 54 minutes...

laz

   pray for the 18

we had our clean lap. 18 finished hour 11 18 started hour 12...

this is the critical hour. the sun is setting, and it will be dark before they get back.

nobody has more than a minute or two a lap to spare. they cannot slow down. dark or not.

if they finish this hour, there are 12 hours of gravy, before we return to the trail.

pray for the 18. they need it.

laz

  nightmare under the hunters moon

tim dines and gary kaspar. refused to continue.

may god have mercy on your soul.

14 tortured souls started hour 15.

it is one thing to run a 100, and start once. it is another to run a 100, and have to start 24 times...

and you might not even be halfway through.

laz

the final chapter it was the invisible injury that won out. andy's achilles had been gradually deteriorating for many hours. after the two youngsters hammered each other during hour 28, babak pulling away, andy bowed out after the finish (to the dismay of throngs of andy pearson fans) babak is out on the deciding loop....for the first time, he is alone. in somewhere around a half hour, we will know if there is a finisher this year. we already know who it has to be. thanks for listening.

laz

Regrets

I’ve never been the type of person to make the first move. Although I am very emotional, I like to think things through before I act. I’m a big believer in weighing the outcomes of your actions. I like to keep a level head even if I’m screaming on the inside. But in the grand scheme of my life is it worth it?

I dated a boy for 7 years. He's 2 years younger than me and probably one of the most immature, selfish, and disrespectful people I’ve ever known. We started dating in high school when I was a junior and he was a freshman. I don’t know if I ever fully trusted him. When we first started talking I was very into him and I thought he was on the same page but we weren’t officially dating. I found out that while we were talking he had made out with other girls. Naturally I was very upset because although we weren’t officially a couple it seemed like things were headed in that direction. Clearly he wasn’t prepared for commitment so I stopped talking to him. But he was persistent. He wanted me or so he said and eventually he wore me down and I decided to give him another chance. Soon after this he asked me to be his girlfriend. A few months later he was really sick so I took a care package to his house and gave it to his mom to give to him because he was too ill for company. I found out that while he was sick he was sending pictures of his dick to other girls. Again, I was completely shocked not to mention crushed. I couldn’t understand why he would do this. But he was always an amazing liar. He always found a way to get me back.

When I went to college I was always worried about what he was doing. The school I went to was 4 hours away from him and I didn’t have a car so we were almost exclusively long distance. At first everything was fine. We would talk on the phone and Skype and even though it was hard I was confident everything was going to work out. But I was always a little bit suspicious. During my second semester he stopped answering my calls. We talked less and less. I was desperate to find out what was going on so I decided to do some detective work. I knew his password to Facebook so I went on it. He was ignoring me but on Facebook chatting up other girls. At this point we had been dating for 2 years and this was finally the last straw for me. I broke up with him. I was completely devastated. His parents had to take him to the ER because he hyperventilated. I felt terrible but I was determined to stay strong because he obviously didn’t want to be with me. I was in love with him but for my own good I couldn’t let him keep hurting me. I cared about him so much and so I would text him every day to check on him. Eventually he wouldn’t answer my texts anymore. When he finally did he told me he was interested in someone else and had liked her for the whole year. And for what seemed like (and probably was) the thousandth time I was heartbroken.

During my time at college I had become friends with a guy named Alex. He was attractive and reminded me of my boyfriend a little bit. We were the same major and both wanted to go to dental school. He was funny and smart and easy to talk to. When I broke up with my boyfriend he was really nice and would talk to me and ask me to hang out and study. He had broken up with his long-term girlfriend not too long ago so he understood what I was going through. When I first met him I definitely had a little crush on him. I’m always attracted to guys that are a little bit obnoxious and outspoken. He’s the type of guy who was very social, very flirty, and was very often the center of attention. After I broke up with my boyfriend I really wanted to tell Alex that I was into him. We would hang out on the weekends and lay in the sun listening to music and studying chemistry. I mostly day-dreamed about reaching out for his hand, kissing on the lawn of Soldiers and Sailors while Dave Matthews was playing (that was his favorite band). But of course I never told him any of this because I couldn’t stop weighing the options. What would happen if I did? The uncertainty was crippling. What if he didn’t like me at all? What if he didn’t want to be my friend anymore? What if I embarrassed myself? Naturally I never focused on the positive outcomes, like what if he actually wanted to date me? What if we were made for each other? What if we were still together now? If I wasn’t so timid maybe I would know the answer to any of these questions. Instead he’ll always be the guy I wish I kissed.

When I went home for the summer I eventually got back together with my old boyfriend. That is something I will always regret but at the same time not regret at all. We were together for 5 more years. When he graduated high school he came to the same college I was attending. The first 2 years there were some of the best times of my life. Being together again in the same place was a welcome change. We became inseparable. Like he was honestly my best friend in the entire world. I would have done pretty much anything for him. He was my person. He was the one thing I could always count on. We had so much fun together. We were basically on our own and our relationship thrived. We ended up finding a cat over the summer and she instantly became our child. I honestly thought that I had found the person I would spend the rest of my life with. And that thought never scared me for a single second. So I can’t entirely regret the decision to get back together because of this time period. I learned what love is supposed to feel like and I will always sorely miss the euphoric feeling of being interconnected with someone else’s heart and mind and soul. I will always long for the feeling of absolute solidity that exists when you are one another’s entire world. The way nothing else matters as long as you have each other to lean on through the good and the bad. I used to have that kind of love.

When I graduated college everything changed. We were long distance again and, just as he did so many years before, over time he stopped answering my texts and calls. I went on high alert. I was so suspicious of him and I knew in my gut that he was cheating on me. I had so much evidence and there were so many red flags but I really never wanted it to be true. I would think it but in the back of my mind I always hoped I was just throwing things out of proportion. I was so suspicious of him and this particular girl that I actually flat-out asked him if there was something going on and he denied it saying they were just friends. When he came home for Christmas break his senior year he told me he wanted to break up. It was literally just days after our anniversary. I was so confused. I couldn’t fathom why the person who told me he loved me every day wanted to dump me. I basically had a nervous breakdown. I screamed and cried and pulled out all the stops I had just so he would take it back. That night after he fell asleep I decided to look through his phone. I left no stone unturned. I ended up finding a hidden text message app with a text thread between him and the girl I suspected he was cheating with. I found out he had been emotionally and physically involved with her for 3 months. She said I was a psycho bitch. She told him he needed to dump me so they could be together. They were calling each other baby. Sending each other nudes. It was all too much for me to handle. I shook him awake, screaming “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” in his face. He immediately tried to grab the phone from me, he was crying and I was screaming, every fiber in my body was shaking with the confirmation of his betrayal. Everything in my stomach came rushing back up. I threw up probably 3 times. It was one of the worst nights of my life.

Naturally he told me that it was nothing. He promised me he didn’t have feelings for her. He claimed he just missed me and it was hard to be away from each other for so long. He said a lot of things he didn’t mean and I lapped each one of them up like I was dying of thirst. This is what I regret. I regret that at this moment I didn’t walk away for good. I regret that I didn’t stand up for myself. I regret that I thought that this relationship was worth the disrespect he showed me time and time again. I regret that I poured all that was left of my heart back into someone who treated me like I was disposable. Why did I do it? How could I be so stupid? Those are valid questions. I think because I did truly love him unconditionally and also because I was petrified of change. I had built a life around him. I was comfortable. I fell in love with all of his family and friends. I didn’t want to lose my entire world by walking away. But by not walking away I ended up losing so much more.

The claim that it was nothing lasted for about a month. We agreed that he should have no contact with the girl anymore. I sent her a text telling her this very fact along with some other choice words that I also regret saying. As soon as he went back to school it all went to shit. He shared an apartment with 4 other guys and one day he came home and she was there hanging out with one of his roommates. He texted me telling me how horrible it was. We talked on the phone and he was crying about how much he missed her. It’s funny writing this now because it seems so unbelievable that I actually went through this shit. Eventually I proposed that we take a break to regain our composure individually. He seemed thrilled at this idea, which in retrospect probably should’ve been a warning sign, but I was just so happy that I was finally doing something that made him happy. We set rules. We decided that we would have no contact with one another for a month. The day we would talk again was the day after Valentine’s day which also in retrospect was a horrible idea. During this time I did a lot of great things for myself. I did things I always wanted to do, like yoga and piercing my nose and going to therapy. I had the great idea to send him a Valentine’s day care package because I was so desperately hopeful. The day when we finally were allowed to talk to each other (I’m sure you already know what’s coming) is the last time I ever spoke to him. He read me a statement in the coldest, most disconnected voice that basically said he didn’t love me and didn’t want to be with me anymore. He told me that I was at fault for everything that happened because I was too needy and dependent on him all of the time and I put too much pressure on him. I was hysterical and pleading with him to change his mind and he hung up on me.

I don’t think I will ever be the same. Something inside of me broke that day. A part of who I used to be was obliterated. I used to see the world so much differently. I used to be the kind of girl who loved love and romance. Now I just roll my eyes at that shit. True love is dead. I regret not running when I had the chance. I regret not kissing Alex when I had the chance. I regret being silent because it was the safest option. I regret never saying what I want to say because I am so overly conscious of other people’s feelings and wants and needs. I regret letting people walk all over me. I regret giving up before I ever try due to the fear of failure. Maybe if I had just once acted without meticulously weighing the pros and cons I would still be the old me today. I cling to the hope that maybe someday I will see her again. Until then, I’m done holding my tongue.

10 Tips for Spring Cleanup and Lawn Care Here are 10 tips for cleaning up your yard this spring—and laying the foundation for a great-looking lawn. As soon as snow season is over (if you have one) or your soil dries up, you know that it’s time for spring cleanup. In our region, we look to nature’s signs, too. Lawn care begins between the bloom times of the forsythia and lilac bushes. You put a lot into your home and property, so take a weekend or two to roll up your sleeves and get outside to care for your yard. People who neglect spring cleanup end up paying more in mowing and lawn care during the rest of the year. CLEAN UP LEAVES Even if you cleaned up the leaves in the fall, there are many trees (such as oaks) that shed their leaves over the winter and spring. It’s important to rake up those leaves to remove layers of leaves that can lead to grass mold or decay. If you have a compost pile (or want to start one!), add those leaves to the pile; they’re excellent organic material for plant beds and mulch. If you have a larger yard, consider a low-noise leaf blower (like this one from Echo). Many blowers today offer low levels of noise unlike blowers of years past. You can also safely blow leaves out of your gutters—right from the ground. A clean gutter prevents pest nesting areas, water damage, ice dams, and gutter damage. RAKE THE GROUND—DEEPLY After blowing away the leaves, do a deep raking of your yard. Don’t just sweep the surface. Rake away thatch and any grass blades that have died over the winter. You don’t want more than ½-inch of thatch on the ground. If you have snow in your region, you may spot some matted patches. Rake them. GET RID OF WEEDS Weeds will only get worse as daylight hours increase during summer. Pull weeds or cut them away now while it’s easy. As they grow, their roots will strengthen and they will be very difficult to pull out. If you plan to spray for weeds, the best plan is to apply a “pre-emergent” herbicide in the fall—because this inhibits weed seeds (especially crabgrass) from even germinating. If you see perennial weeds emerge in the spring, you can spray a post-emergent herbicide. This is less effective than the autumn timing, since the growth has already begun. Go to the garden store, buy a lawn weed preventer that covers both grassy weeds (e.g., crabgrass) and broadleaf weeds (e.g., dandelions), and put it down with a lawn spreader (like this one from Echo). Then water your lawn for an hour; it’s critical that it soaks down into the ground, all the way to the weeds’ roots. If you already have dandelions, a common perennial weed in early spring, you can also dig them out by their roots or just enjoy their yellow blooms. Note: Snap off dandelion heads before they seed if you don’t want more dandelions next year. If you are maintaining a yard without chemicals, you could always harvest dandelion greens when young and tender! Yes, you can eat many “weeds”! LOOSEN THE SOIL Does your property have flower beds? After the winter, the soil may be completely compacted. It’s important to loosen the soil to help oxygen reach the plants roots. You can use hand tools for small areas, but larger areas may benefit from tiller (like this one from Echo). Some trimmers have tiller attachments. The lawn also gets compacted soil, especially if people walk on it. If you see patches of moss or signs of decline, we would advise aerating the lawn. However, this is usually best done in the fall. Plan to rent a lawn aerator at your local home improvement store. Moss can also mean that your lawn is getting acidic. If you are growing grass, the goal is a neutral pH. Get a soil test (often free or done for a small fee through your local County Cooperative Extension office). If your lawn is acidic, you’ll need to apply lime to it; the Extension folks can advise you. EDGE GARDEN BEDS Nothing finishes a yard like a crisp edge between a sidewalk and the turf. If you’d like to create that perfect manicured look, consider trying out an edger (like this one from Echo). You may also want to redraw the bou ndary between your garden beds and grass. Wider beds mean less lawn care, too. Here’s how to do it: Use a garden hose to mark out a nice line for your garden beds. Then, along this bed line, take a sharp metal edger and drive it into the ground as deep as it will go. Dig all along the hose line and then remove the grass that’s there, creating a nice bed. Once done, fill up the bed with 2 to 3 inches of mulch (pine bark is a good choice)—or you’ll just get a bed of weeds! (See photo below.) Now transplant or plant some flowers! FERTILIZE YOUR LAWN—OR NOT We don’t think that it’s necessary to fertilize your lawn in the spring. The best time for fertilizing is autumn—while the grass is still green but not growing or greening. This may sound counterintuitive, but fall is when grass plants take up nitrogen to help them green up more quickly in the spring. However, some folks like to apply fertilizer in the spring, too. If you do this, apply lightly. Heavy fertilization is not good for the grass and can also lead to disease problems. Cool-season grasses can be fertilized early in spring. Just go to a garden center, buy the fertilizer for your type of grass, and apply it evenly with a lawn spreader (like this one from Echo). Note that warm-season grasses (e.g., Bermuda grass) can be fertilized in late spring once they green up. If you’re interested in a more organic way to fertilize, use a mulching mower—which returns grass clippings back to the soil. This saves you time and energy, while also improving the condition of your lawn. Since grass clippings contain up to 90 percent water, the clippings dry up very quickly. It’s almost as if the grass clippings disappear. Plus, this returns 25 percent of the nutrients to the soil—a fantastic fertilizer. SEED BARE PATCHES What if your lawn has bare patches from traffic or even pets? It’s really best to reseed in the fall, but if you’re desperate to fix these patches, try seeding in March or April. Use a steel rake to scuff up the area. Loosen the soil. Scrape some compost into the area. Sprinkle grass seed on the spot. (Use a sun/shade premium mix, unless the area’s heavily shaded.) Keep the soil moist. Cover the seeds with straw matting or another material. Even grass clippings will do. You just want to cover the spot with some sort of material to hold seeds in place. If you’re using a pre-emergent herbicide in the spring, keep in mind that it kills both weed and grass seeds; this is why fall is a better time to seed grass. PRUNE TREES AND TRIM HEDGES Fruit trees (especially apple trees) need to be pruned in the spring to stay healthy and produce a good harvest. When to prune a tree or shrub depends mostly on when it blooms and whether it blooms on growth produced in the same or previous years. Generally, those that flower after midsummer are pruned hard in the spring. Take care not to prune too early, as the incisions can dry out if the temperature drops below freezing. See our spring pruning chart. To prune trees yourself, look into tree pruners with long reach poles (like this one from Echo) so you can keep your own feet safely on the ground. Winter or early spring is the best time to trim any hedges with leaves. Also use a hedge trimmer (like this one from Echo) for conifers—once during the early spring and again midsummer. MOW GRASS—BUT NOT TOO SOON You may be relieved to know that the first mow really shouldn’t occur until the grass level reaches 2 to 3 inches tall. The lawn needs time to recover after winter. We’re becoming fans of “mowing high.” Longer grass shades the earth underneath, which allows fewer weed seeds to sprout. Also, you won’t need to water your lawn as often. If you use a traditional lawn mower, spring is the time to clean (or replace) the filter and spark plugs. It’s important to sharpen the mower blade every month or two for a clean cut. When you just rip grass and leave it with open cuts, you leave your yard susceptible to fungi and disease. See more about lawn care. If you’re interested in alternative mowers, consider a reel mower or an electric mower as a more environmentally friendly option. These mowers work best if your property is one-third of an acre or less. It’s important to mow your grass regularly, as it’s much more difficult to cut the grass if it gets way too tall (as many of us have experienced firsthand!). Of course, we have to mention that there are alternatives to grass as well! Many folks are starting to use more ground cover plants (such a sedum), walkways, and wider flower beds. There’s also a growing trend to add vegetable garden beds or to integrate edibles (herbs, vegetables, fruit) into your front yard. See more about edible landscaping! TRIM YOUR LAWN Trim the edges of your lawn to redefine its borders. A reader once told us that a lawn trim is similar to a hair cut! You chop off your hair, but then you need to trim a nice line to look neat and well-manicured. Many lawn mowers aren’t able to do a good job of cutting the sideways grasses along the edges or trimming grass around posts and fence lines. A good trimmer (like this one from Echo) can reach those tight spaces and get close to planting beds. Not everything on this list is necessary for every yard, but we think that we’ve covered everything that you’ll need to think about this spring! Source:almanac

Ah, Lundun. Smells of weed, kebabs and sitting next to a man at the bus stop with a big box of economy Daz between his knees trying to crack a coconut on someone's garden wall :)).

Michelle Goldsmith

The Dreamer. 1962

From his bedroom window he could see how summer was expiring and giving way to Autumn. In the early mornings the landscape was obscured by low mists, as if changes were being made and, like in a theatre interval, we aren’t meant to see - and then it lifted and the leaves were a little more golden; the plant stalks were sagging even lower; the distant trees darker and with denser shadows, more blue than green. The wooden fence was slimy and speckled with moss and beyond it the meadow (Buttercup Meadow!) was like wet crushed velvet. Birds were circulating above the trees and thousands of creatures were preparing for the coming cold weather. Every tree, plant and animal knew exactly what to do ... he was entranced by the solemn purposefulness of everything - of the unquestioning and unquestionable perfection of it all. He was caught - hardly able to breathe, giving himself up to the voluptuous thrill of being part of the force driving every created being towards its own correct and individual destiny.

On the Train

Old couple. I bet they would agree with me if I said to them that the popular idea of long married couples ‘growing more alike over the years’ is a load of rubbish. You don’t become the same; you don’t develop a single mind; your souls do not ‘merge’. Instead, if the relationship is good, you actually intensify your individuality; you remain yourself; you do not deviate from what feels natural.

But there is something else - quite the opposite of the popular delusion. People who have been together for a long time take on a duty to each other for which there is no name. The only writer who has tried to illustrate this duty (the only writer I have come across!) is Rainer Maria Rilke, who refers to it as ‘...becoming the guardian of each other’s solitude’.

The guardian of each other’s solitude - magnificent,

Towards a better understanding of Hamlet’s Soliloquy

During the Elizabethan period most sensible folk would do anything to avoid doctors, depending instead on natural remedies for most of their ills. One such all-purpose embrocation was known as Gruffle, a mixture to be applied externally on the affected parts. The three main ingredients were Wormwood, Chamomile and Cowslip, pounded in a pestle and mortar and then stewed in Mead. When solidified it could be smeared, with a warmed spoon directly onto the skin.

Imagine, if you will, an Elizabeth bedroom, where, in the gloom of a seven watt candle, a typical hard-working couple grope their way to the bedstead. They toss off their heavy garments - the doublet and breeches; the corsets and ruffs and peer into the darkness for the pewter pot of Gruffle. The is a noise of small items falling onto the wooden floor - and then a voice rings out loud and clear - ‘Ay, there’s the rub!’

Nearly on the Train

Dad at the wheel and he’s going too fast on slow roads and too slow on fast roads - perhaps because he’s upset. Morning mists over the Cumbria moors and nearly fifty miles to Carlisle. Every visit home gets sadder; it’s like seeing a loved one becoming deaf - you do your best but they aren’t fully with you in the way they once were. The car passed the gate leading up to a farm; an old school friend now runs it - just a glimpse of farmhouse through the window condensation. There was no future for her here; she would never live here again; her childhood days on her friend’s farm, the village school, the church choir, the little shops, were becoming a closed book.

So...she would get the 10.50 from Carlisle to London - and then three days (and nights!) with her boyfriend before traveling down to the South of France. He was nice but couldn’t match the importance of her ambition.

She’s done two years at the Sorbonne and is taking a year of research at the university of Montpellier. Her speciality is C19 literature, particularly the work of Balzac. As the car swept through the villages it never occurred to her that all her life she had been surrounded by Balzac’s stories.

Watched a TV documentary on the life of Steve McQueen. Steve, apparently was deaf, and this added considerably to his sex-appeal. Let me explain. Struggling to understand what people were saying brought about his trademark facial expression - he would cock his head and narrow his eyes, which women found utterly irresistible.

My one good ear pricked up - in no uncertain terms - (as Holden Caulfield would say) - in no uncertain terms!

Ben and Lorna and Ian...........1966

I think I have mentioned Ben before; he was an old chap who, every evening during the working week used to occupy a bar-stool in the Bodega, Cross Street, Manchester. He was a widower, wealthy and weary - good suits and bow-ties, white beard and gold glasses, Coutts Bank, Russian cigarettes, and double measures of Irish whiskey. All the regulars knew him - and liked him.

One night I was drinking with Ian and his girlfriend Lorna. Lorna went to the bar to buy something and got into conversation with Ben. It went on for some time - Ian looking round every so often to see what was happening. Finally she left Ben and went to the toilets - again quite a long time. As soon as she rejoined us it was clear that she was upset. She wasn’t crying but she had that look - you know what I mean.

Ian didn’t miss out on this either; he wanted an explanation and she just sat and shook her head - I began to feel that I should leave them alone. The following week I met Ian and, into our second drinks, I asked him what had happened between Lorna and Ben.

Apparently it had been very difficult for Lorna to put it into words, but she tried. And now Ian, who had struggled to understand what she was on about, had the same difficulty in trying to explain it to me - and I now have the same difficulty, fifty-one years later, writing it.

Essentially - and incredibly - Lorna had felt during her short chat with Ben - that this elderly, elegant, sad old man was the only person, in all her nineteen years, who actually understood her.

Simon B

Simon came to Britain from Berlin in the Kindertransport system set up just before World War ll.

He was taken in by a Quaker couple who looked after him and with that sublime tolerance often found in Quakers, never tried to introduce him to their religion. Later, when it became clear that he no longer had a family, they formally adopted him. He found scholarships for his years through Grammar schools and then studied medicine. His chosen speciality was caring for sick children and he became a Consultant Paediatrician.

I have occasionally met him - the last time was at a Holocaust conference - where he was a guest speaker. I was near him during one of the breaks and caught some fragments of his conversation. He looked like everyone’s idea of the perfect English gentleman; the patient, kindly, slightly humorous voice; the top-drawer manners; the deference to the other persons viewpoint; the quick eye for peoples feelings and all the other qualities that are a delight to experience.

And I heard him say - ‘Yes, I have been back - and guess what? The factory is still standing!’

A Day at the Lakes.

It was a struggle finding somewhere to park the car but by luck and a bit of aggression he squeezed into a slot. For an hour or so they wandered the cobbled streets, drifting into a few shops, and then had afternoon tea in a crowded little cafe with tiny windows. He suggested spending some time ‘on the water’. Everything about the boy involved a story - he had a friend whose dad had a connection to the conservation authorities and....he had arranged to borrow a boat. All they had to do was mention the dad’s name at the marina office.

Soon, she was sitting prettily in a very narrow and elegantly varnished rowing boat. It had steel scrollwork at the passenger end, cushioned seating and all in all she wouldn’t have felt out of place holding a parasol. The boy started to row, enjoying being watched by queues of day trippers, and turned the boat towards the open lake. Her serenity was disturbed when she touched the water and the coldness surprised her. It would be awful to have an accident and have to swim - she would probably be helpless - she would panic and drown. He was rowing expertly, but he was also watching her - it was as if he could read her thoughts.

‘The water is three-hundred feet deep here’ - he said.

She knew he was the sort that would enjoy frightening her - that he might do stupid things, like rocking the boat side to side - and find it amusing.

But he continued rowing - they were a long way from the shore and he kept looking over his shoulder - heading for a small Island. She saw the small jetty and the painted sign with the words - ‘Private Island: Landing not Permitted’.

He said - ‘ It’s fine, don’t worry’.

Together they pulled the boat out of the water, dragging it into the waterside bushes, and then set about exploring the island. The trees took away most of the light and the ground was thick with pine needles. And then the trees ended and they found themselves in a sort of clearing - like someone’s back garden - a neatly trimmed lawn, flower beds and a wooden pavilion.

He tried the door and it swung open. She didn’t even look at him - she was tired of his irritating cockiness and was thinking of what she was going to do next.

once started work for a firm at about this time of year - the run-up to Christmas. It was an open plan office and most of the staff had worked there for years. Everyone knew what they were doing (except me) and there was a lot of proprietorial and territorial rules and customs to be observed - who sat where and who always had the first lunch break etc. I studied the various power groupings of the women and their likes and dislikes. The men, mostly dull and unhelpful, wanted to get through the day and then round to the pub.

Anyway, things were eased up as the holiday approached and the desks became cluttered with greetings cards. These people - or more accurately - these women, who worked together all day and every day, gave each other Christmas cards; and it was important to them that I wasn’t left out. My work surface was taken over by right pictures of robins and jovial Santas - placed surreptitiously on the desk by women I didn’t even know.

Given the chance I would throw this at every writer who has broken our hearts with the great love stories - ‘Yes, yes, yes - but you did not write about the “real one” - it is impossible to write about the “real one” !

Autumn Morning in Whalley Range ......1965

They had met at a party and had left together. They shuffled along, as young people do, jauntily kicking up the leaves, heading towards the main road, hoping that the buses had started. It was misty - the street lights acid yellow against a cold sky. They passed rows of Victorian villas that once-upon-a-time had servants in the attics and kitchens in the basements - now decaying and split up into flats.

You could hear their laughter in the silent street. And then - they stopped and kissed - just at the junction of Mayfield Road and Alexandra Road - near to the pub where there had been a stabbing.

R

R lost her mother at the age of twelve, and her father quickly remarried. She was the youngest of four; there was a eight year gap to her nearest sister. She left school at fifteen and took a job in a textile company where she learned to touch-type. At seventeen she became a receptionist at a dental surgery - but the job didn’t last because the dentist assaulted her. She was sacked and paid up to the day of the assault. It was around this time that she was also assaulted by her best friend’s dad. Her boyfriend was angry and went to the police. The desk sergeant listened to him and replied - ‘What you’ve got to understand son, is that men only do this sort of thing to women who give certain signals’. So that was that.

I think it was from then onwards that she really did give the ‘certain signals’. She entered and won a glamour contest run by her new employer. The advertising agency sent her to the Lucy Clayton school and she found work modelling. She left our town and as far as I know, never came back.

R. (and her boyfriend)

Following the second assault R’s boyfriend noticed a sharp change in her personality. After such shocks, at a vulnerable age, you might expect to see some sort of mistrust and withdrawal - instead she became aggressively extroverted and as far as men where concerned, very flirtatious. She viewed her exceptional good looks as the means to ‘get the better’ of every man she came across - she knew that she was irresistible.

All this was upsetting to her boyfriend. He was like the boy in the Arabian Nights tale - an orphan who begged in the streets and one day saw a diamond - a perfect diamond - lying in the dust. His joy subsided when he realised that every dealer in the souk would cheat him. R’s boyfriend wanted to keep her for himself, but she wanted to go dancing and drinking in clubs - places where she would make heads turn and provoke words of admiring insinuation.

The boyfriend was utterly unworldly - as innocent and wide-eyed as a lamb on the way to the abattoir. And the good friend advising him to finish with her - who consoled him and said he would soon find someone nicer - who bought him another drink and all the time had a R’s phone number scribbled on a cigarette packet.