Is your feline friend feeling a bit...well, feline-ly frustrated? Scratching furniture? Ignoring your attempts at playtime? Don't worry, we've all been there. But fear not, fellow cat parents! I've got some tricks in my meow-gic bag that are guaranteed to bring a smile (or should we say, a smug look?) to your cat's face. The Cardboard Caper: Ditch the expensive cat condos and unleash your inner interior designer! Grab a sturdy cardboard box, cut out a few intriguing peepholes, and voila - instant kitty castle! You'll be amazed at how much joy a simple cardboard box can bring. Plus, it satisfies their natural instinct to hide and explore. The Feathery Frenzy: Channel your inner bird (minus the feathers…hopefully) with a feathery fishing wand toy. Drag it across the floor, mimicking the erratic movements of prey, and watch your cat pounce, stalk, and bat with pure predatory glee. Bonus points for making the toy disappear and reappear for extra excitement! The Sunbeam Snooze Spot: Cats are solar-powered cuddle monsters, so give them the ultimate gift - a sunbeam sanctuary! Create a dedicated sunbathing spot on a windowsill or comfy chair and watch your kitty melt into a purring puddle of bliss. They'll be napping in pure sun-drenched happiness in no time. These are just a few ideas to get you started. Share your own tips and tricks in the comments below! Let's turn our homes into feline paradises, one happy purr at a time.

I typically use large day bags to transport a ton of stuff to and from work (think large Bottega Arco), but lately have been paring down what I carry and looking for a smaller bag to bring to dinner, just carrying a phone, makeup, wallet, etc.
Everything I see either looks like a small version of my work bags and super formal, or meant for a black tie/wedding.
Any ideas for a small designer bag that looks cool and casual? I got an YSL monochrome LouLou as I thought it might do the job, but its still too big and formal.

Examining the Benefits and Drawbacks of Straw Water Bottles

When it comes to staying hydrated, water bottles with straws have become a popular choice, you might be wondering are water bottle with straw good? But as with any product, there are both benefits and drawbacks to consider.
On the plus side, straw water bottles can make it easier to sip water throughout the day, encouraging better hydration habits. The straw design also allows for a steady, controlled flow of water, which some find more comfortable than tipping a bottle back. From an environmental standpoint, reusable straw bottles cut down on single-use plastic waste.

1. Convenience: Allows you to drink easily without having to tip the bottle completely.
2. Easy to use: Suitable for various situations, such as on the go, at work, or during exercise.
3. Controlled flow: Helps you control the amount of water you drink at one time.
4. Leak-proof: Reduces the risk of spills and leaks.
5. Portable: Convenient to carry around and fits easily in bags or backpacks.
6. Accessible: Makes it easier to access water, especially for those with limited mobility.
7. Encourages frequent sipping: Helps you stay hydrated throughout the day by reminding you to take small sips regularly.

However, there are potential downsides to keep in mind. Straws can harbor more bacteria than a bottle’s opening, requiring extra diligence in cleaning. The straw mechanism may also be more prone to leaks or breakage over time. And for those concerned about sustainability, the additional plastic component means a straw bottle has a larger environmental footprint than a simple open-mouth design.

1. Maintenance: Need to be cleaned regularly to prevent bacteria growth.
2. Potential for damage: The straw may break or get damaged over time.
3. Compatibility: Not suitable for all beverages, especially hot water.

Ultimately, the choice between a straw water bottle and a traditional model comes down to personal preference and usage needs. As with any product, it’s worth weighing the tradeoffs to determine the best fit. The key is finding a hydration solution that encourages consistent water intake in a safe and eco-friendly way.

Time to throw your straw water bottle to try Freestraw™ water bottle from Ecoway Houseware

The Ecoway Freestraw™ water bottle offers a unique and versatile solution for your daily hydration needs. Its innovative design allows you to choose between straw drinking or spout drinking, providing you with the flexibility to stay hydrated in the way that suits you best.
Crafted with high-quality materials, the Freestraw™ bottle is not only durable but also easy to use. The straw mechanism is designed to retract seamlessly into the bottle, ensuring a clean and spill-free experience. Whether you’re on the go, at the gym, or simply relaxing at home, this water bottle adapts to your lifestyle and preferences.
The Freestraw™ feature sets this bottle apart, allowing you to switch between a refreshing sip through the straw or a more controlled pour from the spout. This versatility caters to different drinking styles and personal preferences, making it a practical choice for a wide range of activities and situations.
Staying hydrated is crucial for our overall health and well-being, and the Ecoway Freestraw™ water bottle makes it easier than ever to incorporate healthy hydration into your daily routine. Invest in this innovative product and experience the convenience of multiple drinking options, all while maintaining your commitment to sustainable and eco-friendly choices.

Hi,
I am looking for a white minimalist sleek leather shoulder bag.

• My budget is less than 400$
• Not faux/vegan leather -they always feel cheap and get super hot in the summer
• I don't like the grainy texture of bags, I like it smooth.
• No common brands like Coach, Kors, Kate Spade, etc.
• I already have an APC, Polene, DeMellier handbags. I like their look because they don't look flashy, or trendy, and feel long-lasting.

I understand this may be tough (as I've been hunting for one forever now!) but any help is truly appreciated. Thank you in advance!

I'm reposting this as it was edited by AI to be a bit more grammatically correct and "editorial" sounding, and came out completely wrong, my apologies - my writing generally sucks. The below content is important to me, so I'm looking for serious reflection, debate if anyone is interested. Thanks.
There's obviously been some discord with the new Mini line-up pitting Mini loyal purists against the fresher minded Mini lovers who prefer the new styling. We're all entitled to our opinions and that's okay, I'm not here to convince anyone of one trend or styling over the other. But we should be looking at the reasons of why Mini has made these style/business choices. I feel that some of these reasons are largely being ignored by some fans, being accepted as "the new trend, accept it", versus the 'straight-to-market', market cap gaining, cutting costs to get there, loss of prestige, quality of materials, and loyalty be damned - as I and others see it.
I obviously sit on the side of mostly disliking this new generation not because of their style choices (while ugly) but their decision to sacrifice quality in order to gain market cap, and their decision to partner with Great Wall Motors and produce an awful end-product out of China that mostly mimics the likes of the South East Asian market.
The Asian market isn't so much the problem, it's the en mass production of said materials, "recycled", "faux", and low quality plastics that are being used in their vehicles. A lot of people have said "this is the trend" and where all mass marketed cars are heading. But I think Mini's decision to partner with Great Wall Motors and produce the car out of China has a huge impact on their intention to go straight-to-market, cost cutting, streamlined parts, and therefore (in my opinion) loss of quality, and diminished/minimalist styling and impact on general design.
For example, I've said this in other places, but Great Wall Motor's 2023 Ora EV is a near clone of the Mini Cooper EV of which is made out of the same factory as the Ora. This partnership started in late 2017, early 2018 and didn't just happen yesterday. If you see the URL's below of the Ora you can see that they're pretty much clones, the round headlines, "unique" colorful interior, faux leather, low quality plastics, and minimalist approach.
Sorry for the length of this, but I'd love a friendly discussion about the above because it seems to be that BMW/Mini along with GWM are really just trying to gain as many customers as they can while doing it from a straight-to-market, cost-cutting designs, while largely impacting the former prestige and "luxury" feel our beloved Minis once had. What do you think?
2023 GWM Ora Exterior
2023 GWM Ora Interior

LAPTOP QUESTIONNAIRE

• Total budget (in local currency) and country of purchase. Please do not use USD unless purchasing in the US:
  Around $300-$400 US
  
• Are you open to refurbs/used?
  I prefer a new laptop but am open to refurbished.
  
• How would you prioritize form factor (ultrabook, 2-in-1, etc.), build quality, performance, and battery life?
  I would like it to be decent quality and not lag (something kinda fast would be a huge plus), battery life is somewhat important but I don’t necessarily need it to last all day.
  
• How important is weight and thinness to you?
  I would prefer it to be portable and somewhat lightweight, nothing bulky or clunky.
  
• Do you have a preferred screen size? If indifferent, put N/A.
  I prefer something between 13-15 inches, closer to 13 or 14 though.
  
• Are you doing any CAD/video editing/photo editing/gaming? List which programs/games you desire to run.
  I will mostly use it for crafting, Cricut design space and Silhouette are the programs I use the most. I also play the Sims but that’s the only gaming I would do.
  
• If you're gaming, do you have certain games you want to play? At what settings and FPS do you want?
  I really only play the Sims from time to time so I don’t need much of a gaming laptop.
  
• Any specific requirements such as good keyboard, reliable build quality, touch-screen, finger-print reader, optical drive or good input devices (keyboard/touchpad)?
  I’d like something that doesn’t feel cheap and will last at least a few years, so good quality build would be nice. Bells and whistles are nice but not necessary. I’d like something that is fairly fast and doesn’t lag or take forever to load everything.
  
• Leave any finishing thoughts here that you may feel are necessary and beneficial to the discussion.
  I will mostly be using this laptop for crafting, studying, browsing, and maybe some gaming. I’d like something portable that I can put in my bag so nothing too bulky. I can’t go up too much in my budget but might not necessarily be using this laptop every day so hopefully a few hundred will get me something reliable, portable, and fast. I know my budget is limiting and I have realistic expectations lol. Thanks in advance for your help/suggestions!
  

Ok, so I’ve been thinking of selling my LV pochette Métis for awhile now but I haven’t found anything to replace it with yet.
Here’s the requirements: - everyday bag - holds its value somewhat - quiet luxury - minimal branding - neutral colour - probably tan coloured - leather - must be grained/textured - casual, but I do love the structure of the Métis with pockets and sections. This isn’t essential as long as I can get an insert for the bag to help organise everything - shouldecrossbody that closes/zips/with clasp etc - excellent quality and doesn’t not need to be babied. I look after my bags, but will be used very regularly so no smooth leather or anything too delicate. - budget - ideally around $2500 usd but can spend more if the bag is perfection 💖
Brands I love: - Loewe

• The Row
  
• khaite
  
• celine
  

I love the understated aesthetic of these brands but haven’t quite found the style I want or the grained leather. There may be pieces around but I haven’t seen them yet!
Already excluded: - YSL

• Gucci
  
• balenciaga
  
• Fendi
  
• Salvatore feragamo
  
• Valentino
  
• Bottega
  
• Chanel
  
• CD
  
• Chloe
  
• Prada
  
• Givenchy
  

Pls help! Have you seen anything that may fit the bill? I’ll post pics of styles I like in the comments.
Thanks bag lovers!! 😘😘

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

So I’m in a tricky situation right now and I have no idea what to do so what happened was I ordered a bag on coach outlet I ended up receiving a torn up bag with nothing inside. This has never happened to me before and obviously coach is a trusted company. I messaged them everything was resolved and they sent out another bag. Everything was received perfectly a few months later a new design came out and since it’s a trusted company and I have never had a problem before with my other packages, I decided to order the bag same thing happened I ended up receiving an empty flat bag. I received an open package with the adhesive part having plastic from another package stuck to it and obviously because of this I assumed that since it couldn’t close it just slipped out during transit so I call Coach outlet again this time they’re saying they can’t do anything about it that they can only help me out once so now I’m stressed because I basically just lost $100 I call UPS and let them know what happened. They told me they can’t do anything about it that I have to contact the merchant. I call coach again same thing and it’s just a back-and-forth problem. The thing is I paid this purchase through Klarna so I called them. I let them know what happened and they stop the payments and open a dispute, but then a bit later I received a message that the dispute was canceled because they received proof from coach that I was delivered a package which again I was, but there was just nothing inside even in the image it’s literally flat that the UPS man posted I already disputed it with my bank, but now klarna is charging me again. What do I do? I’m just scared of messing up my credit or anything of that such with Klarna because they’re requesting the payment but obviously I’m not going to pay for something that I never received. What do I do?

After hearing me go on and on about bags, he finally started talking about something he would want! The need is for something in between a tote and a messenger bag, something to hold everything he needs for the day (wallet/keys/cell/hat/waterbottle/snack/etc) that he can wear crossbody and fully closes but no buckles. Something more refined than Portland Leather, less refined than the $2500 Ferragamo I showed him. Definitely want a very even grained leather that can take a bit of a beating.
This isn’t for work or every day, so I’d love if it felt a little special.
Anyone else something similar, have a bag they use themselves or their partner uses? Thanks in advance for the expertise

You've got your sweet mountain bike all set up and ready to hit the trails. But before you go shredding those epic singletrack loops, there are a few key accessories you'll want to have on hand. Proper gear can make the difference between a fun ride and a total bummer of a day. So let's dive into the must-have items to round out your mountain biking kit.

Hydration Pack

Staying hydrated is crucial when you're putting in long hours on the trails. A hydration pack is a backpack designed specifically for mountain bikers and hikers. It has a built-in reservoir that holds water and a drinking tube so you can sip on the go. Most packs hold around 2-3 liters of water, which should get you through a solid 2-3 hour ride. The pack itself has room for snacks, an extra layer, and other gear. CamelBak is one of the biggest names in hydration packs.

Multi-Tool

Unless you want to get stranded trailside with a broken chain or stuck seat post, you'll need a good multi-tool. These compact tools have all the essentials like allen wrenches, screwdrivers, and sometimes even a chain tool. Throw it in your pack and you'll be able to handle basic trailside repairs and adjustments. Brands like Topeak, Crank Brothers, and Park Tool make great options.

Pump

Flats happen to everyone eventually. You'll want to make sure you have either a frame-mounted pump or a pump that fits in your pack. CO2 inflators are another solid option if you want to skip the elbow grease. Quality pumps from companies like Lezyne, Topeak, and Blackburn should get you rolling again without too much of a struggle.

Spare Tube

Having that fresh tube is only half the battle though - you'll also need to pack a spare tube along with tire levers to swap it out when you get that dreaded hiss. Ensure you have the right size and width for your tires. Some riders also stash a spare tubeless valve stem in case theirs gets damaged or gummed up.

Multi-Tool & Tire Plug Kit

For a much quicker flat fix, pick up a plug kit that lets you jam a sticky reusable plug into the hole and get back riding lickety-split. The plugs work decently for smaller punctures in the tread area until you can get a more permanent repair.

First Aid Kit

Mountain biking's not exactly a dangerous sport, but you're still cruising over rough terrain at high speeds. It's smart to have a basic first aid kit with bandages, antiseptic wipes, etc in case you take a spill and need to patch yourself up. Pre-assembled kits from brands like Adventure Medical Kits are a convenient solution.

Protection

Speaking of crashes - elbow and knee pads can be smart armor additions if you tend to push it a little too hard on the gnarly stuff. You can even find trail-certified helmets with extra coverage around the back of the head.

Snacks

Don't underestimate how much energy you'll burn shredding the gnar for hours on end. Trail snacks are essential to stay fueled and powered up. Energy bars, gels, chews, nuts, and jerky are all great compact options to stuff in your pack.

Lights

If your rides tend to stretch into the evening hours, having a good lighting system is pretty key for seeing the trail and being visible to others. Most riders opt for a headlamp and a handlebar-mounted light. Just be sure to pack spare batteries!
There are plenty more optional accessories out there from trail tools to frame bags to spare gear and more. But those key items should cover your bases and ensure you're prepped for whatever the mountain throws your way. Stay safe, have fun, and get out there!

After looking at like, every single bag on earth for the last 2 months and being unable to pick one, I finally bought the Lululemon Double-Zip Backpack 22L last week out of desperation for 98 dollars. Of all the bags I looked at, it actually hit the most checkboxes for me:

• large capacity, I needed 22L minimum
• TWO water bottle holders (were it not for this, I would have gotten a Jansport but they have cheaped out and left only one holder on each bag)
• several compartments and internal organization, including laptop sleeve
• traditional design: horizontal smaller pocket on the outside (as opposed to patagonia reffugio)
• black, stylish, acceptable for gym and to go to work
• s-shaped, ergonomic straps for my big bust.

Why am I asking for a better version? A, because I conceptually hate lululemon and do not want to buy anything from them (but I was desperate as I could not pick something and had no bags big enough to hold all my gear). B, I am sure that this quality is not great and nervous that the zippers are going to break or something. The laptop sleeve zipper doesn't feel great.
Now that I know what I like, I just want this bag to be made by someone else.
Any recommendations? TIA