Hi, I bake sourdough and baguettes regularly with good success. However, I have made the recipe below twice and failed both times. The crust turns out hard (not just crunchy), and in the second batch the bread did not brown.
The two deviations I made from the recipe below were:
-- I used a mixer with a dough hook for step 3 - and the flour was a bit challenging to mix in. Would a food processor with a steel blade (one of the options the recipe called for) really work better? Seems like it would destroy the gluten structure you are trying to build.
-- I also used a baking steel which made the bottom brown, but the top of the loaves stayed pasty white.
Ideas? I like the idea of a part-whole wheat baguette using leftover sourdough starter. The loaves are also quite good (nice texture, good tang) - it is just that crust.

• ½cup sourdough (I used fed sourdough)
• 1cup water
• ½ cup whole-wheat flour
• 3 to 3½ cups unbleached bread flour, plus flour for the work surface
• 2 teaspoons salt
• Cornmeal for baking sheets

1. Combine the sourdough with the water and allow to sit until the sourdough relaxes and begins to dissolve, about 20 minutes. Beat in the whole-wheat flour and one cup of the bread flour, cover tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rise until very bubbly and light, six to eight hours depending on the warmth of the room.
2. Beat in the salt and another cup of flour, again cover and let rise until double in size, five to seven hours.
3. Transfer the mixture to a kneading bowl or food processor with a steel blade and knead in the remaining flour, a third of a cup at a time, until the dough is smooth, shiny and elastic. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.
4. Sprinkle a baking sheet with cornmeal. Divide the dough in half and roll each half into a thin snake about one-and-a-half inches in diameter. Place the snakes, well separated, on the baking sheet, cover lightly with a dampened tea towel or plastic wrap and allow to rise until double in size, about one to one-and-a-half hours.
5. Heat the oven to 450 degrees. Make several shallow diagonal slashes across the loaves with a razor blade and put the sheet in the oven. Being careful not to get burned by the steam, throw about a quarter cup of water onto the oven floor and shut the oven at once.
6. Bake the bread for 35 to 45 minutes, or until the baguettes are crusty and well browned. Cool on wire racks.

I find myself deeply longing for a sincere and profound connection. Hopefully, you are looking for the same?
I think most of us are afraid in some sense to love and to be completely vulnerable yet despite the risk we long for it.
The capacity to love, sometimes even in the face of pain, is one of the most beautiful aspects of being human. It's a strength, and not always a weakness.
At my core, I'm a person of love, of care, of deep unyielding affection for those I hold dear.
Through the journey of healing and self-discovery, I've realized that I have much love to share. Love that is not bitter, but kind; not resentful, but forgiving; not closed, but open and willing to grow alongside someone special.
I'm sincere in my attempt to forge a connection and hope you are too, I'd try to share things about me that might give you idea of the person I am.
Essence of Me:
I am a mix of old-school romance and modern sensibility, holding onto the ideals of loyalty and sincerity. I think handwritten notes, surprise dates, and the belief that small gestures make a big difference. I am someone who thrives on deep connections and meaningful interactions.
I’m someone who believes in the power of midnight conversations, in the healing balm of shared laughter, and in the silent solidarity of presence.
I believe in the power of empathy and the importance of being there for those who matter, even if it's a call at 3 AM. I value integrity, kindness, and a good/weird sense of humor. I find beauty in the mundane, the kind of person who finds joy in the little things and believes in taking the time to truly understand and appreciate others.
Physical Attributes:

• Height: 5'11" (181cm)
• Build: Slim
• Hair: Deep black, kept in check
• Eyes: Light, sometimes dark brown :3
• Beard: Short, fashionable, and pristinely groomed
• Complexion: FaiTanned

Interests:
I find solace in music that echoes my moods, books that transport me to other worlds, and quiet moments in nature that ground me. I cherish activities that nurture growth, whether they're intellectual debates, serene walks, or shared laughs over coffee. I'm drawn to the arts as much as to the simple pleasure of a sunset.. I also have a keen interest in cooking and experimenting with new recipes, finding the act of creating something delicious for others as a form of expression and care.
To sum up some typical interests include: Philosophy, nature, languages, books, reading, writing, video games, sports, art, poetry, travelling etc
What I Am Looking For:
I'm in search of someone who values open and honest communication as much as I do. Someone who understands that relationships are about growth, learning, and supporting each other through life's myriad challenges and joys. I am looking for someone who is eager to prioritize getting to know each other, willing to open their heart, and ready to build something meaningful together.
Expectations:

• Mutual respect and understanding
• Openness and honesty in communication
• A shared desire to prioritize our relationship and growth
• An interest in exploring life's depths and joys together

The Quest for You:
What am I seeking? Not a perfect person, but a real one. Someone whose heart speaks the language of kindness, whose spirit dances to the tune of sincerity. I dream of a connection where words are just the beginning, where vulnerability is not a weakness but our strongest bond. I yearn for a love that’s both a safe harbor and a grand adventure, a partnership built on mutual respect, understanding, and the shared bravery of baring one’s soul.
I seek a fellow traveler in this journey of life, one who understands that while our pasts may shape us, they do not define us. Someone who stands at the intersection of hope and reality, ready to embark on a path not devoid of challenges but rich with the promise of true companionship.
Epilogue of Hope:
If my words have stirred something in your heart, if you too are navigating the vast oceans of life in search of a genuine connection, then perhaps we are two stars meant to align in the constellation of fate. I extend my hand, my heart, and my story to you – not in desperation, but with the quiet confidence of one who has faced the night and yearns for the dawn.
Laconic messages with just "hi", "what's up," "I have a question," and the likes will be most likely ignored. If I can beat my own laconism when introducing myself here, so can you.

One of the lesser known and discussed components to David Kibbe’s approach to developing an authentic personal style is his color system.
What I think is quite unique about his approach is that it is rooted in color theory. I know that sounds kind of obvious… aren’t all personal color systems rooted in color theory? Not quite in the same way, no.
To go back to the absolute basics of color theory we start with the foundational concept of Primary Colors; Red, Yellow and Blue. Where In color theory; Yellow is Warm, Blue is Cool and Red is Neutral.
Disclaimer: Yes! There’s such thing as a Warm Blue or a Cool Yellow. David gives every season their own version of Yellow and Blue. However, we’re referencing a *pure** version of these colors - not a blend.*
So when we say “cool toned” this means the colors have a blue base since blue is cool. The same can be said for the concept of “warm toned” which means the colors have a yellow base since yellow is warm.
Now, nobody’s skin tone is literally yellow (we’re not lemons) or literally blue (we are not lizards). We are a complex blend of pigments that create a unique mix of tones within our skin, hair and eyes. What we’re looking to determine with our personal coloring here is wether we have a blue (cool) or golden (warm) undertone. With our hair and eyes providing extra clues but our undertone being the most important factor to consider.
Before we launch into the **Metamorphosis excerpt on David’s approach to personal color, I would like to pause and remind us all, that, as with all things Kibbe, it bares reminding that it is essential we leave all prior ideas on colouring aside and approach this process with a sense of playful exploration and curiosity. Our personal coloring just as our Kibbe ID is part of what makes us uniquely beautiful. So it’s not about there being a “correct” or “incorrect” answer. It’s about celebrating what is innate to us.*

Discovering the magic of your coloring

So much has been written in recent years about your coloring and "having your colors done" that I simply can't take you through this journey without a brief detour in this often confusing area.
As a firm believer in the beauty of our natural coloring, I've always felt that it should be enhanced and prized as one of our greatest gifts from Nature. Since I could be described as one of the pioneers of the modern color movement, I've worked long and hard to educate the public about the possibilities and systems that exist to make working with your coloring easy, clear, exciting, and most of all, fun!
In the past few years, I've watched many variations spring up on the basic theme of personal color analysis. As in all extremely popular fields, some of the "new" variations are simply gimmicks de- signed to cash in on the latest fad, while others bear at least some validity.
For my money, however, the basic system of the seasonal color theory originally developed by Johannes Itten of the Bauhaus School is still far and away the most effective.
This theory divides your coloring into four basic categories named after the seasons, based on two parts of your genetic makeup: (1) the undertone of your skin, which is blue or golden and functions as the "base" of your coloring; and (2) the in- tensity of your coloring, which has to do with the type of "contrast" between your hair. skin, and eyes.
Simply put, your "season" is a general description of the type of coloring you inherited and the palette of colors that will enhance it. Each "season" represents a family of colors that consists of over two million shades within the palette. Here's a brief description of each:

Winter

Blue undertone to the skin. High-contrast coloring (distinct difference between the hair, skin, eyes).
Palette: Cool, clear colors. Blue-based shades with sharp intensity. A jewel-toned palette ranging from vivid colors to very pale, icy shades.
Person: The hair is usually dark (a solid color as opposed to visibly highlighted) with an ash base, and the skin and eyes are quite clear.
Celebrities: Elizabeth Taylor, Cher, Diahann Carroll, Connie Chung.

Summer

Blue undertone to the skin. Blended contrast (the hair, skin, eyes tend to blend together).
Palette: Cool, muted colors. Blue- based shades with a saturated intensity. A dusty palette ranging from pastels to very deep shades.
Person: The hair is usually medium dark to medium light (a dense color with a very subtle highlight) with an ash base, and the skin tone is saturated while the eyes are softly muted.
Celebrities: Grace Kelly, Queen Elizabeth, Jane Fonda.

Autumn

Golden undertone to the skin. Contrast is medium to high, but characterized by richness.
Palette: Warm, intense colors. Yellow based shades with a heavy saturation of richness. A fiery palette ranging from very vivid, hot shades to a few softly muted neutrals.
Person: The hair is usually a richly highlighted shade with a red base, ranging from very deep chestnut to fiery auburn to a very deep honey. The skin tone is rich and saturated (ranging from very pale to very deep) and the eyes are a mixture of marbelized color.
Celebrities: Natalie Wood, Ann-Margret, Diane Keaton, Katharine Hepburn, Shari Bela- fonte-Harper.

Spring

Golden undertone to the skin. Contrast is delicate, but sharp.
Palette: Warm and clear colors. Yellow based shades with a light, bright intensity. A vibrant pal ette ranging from very fresh, vivid shades to a few clear pales.
Person: The hair is usually a medium dense shade (with a subtle natural highlight) and a golden or red base, ranging from medium golden brown to strawberry to golden blond. The skin tone is clear and delicate, and the eyes are crisp.
Celebrities; Shirley MacLaine, Sissy Spacek, Vanessa Williams, Arlene Dahl, Eva Gabor.

Draping the Seasons

Question: How can I determine my "season"? Can I tell by just looking at myself in the mir ror? Can I tell by looking at the underside of my wrists?
Not really. The best way to objectively determine your season is with the help of three or four friends. To correctly determine your season, you've got to first determine both the undertone of your skin (blue or golden), and then the type of contrast between your hair, skin, and eyes. The only way to accurately do this is by a process called "draping," whereby you drape selected shades of fabric under your chin and compare the color of the fabric to the colors in your face. You cannot determine your undertone by simply looking at your wrist because you are merely viewing the "shade" of your skin tone, as opposed to the undertone or base coloration.
In the draping process, you discover your skin's undertone by an indirect method. The aim is to enhance the undertone of your skin by using a complementary base color from the selected fabric.
Here's how to do this: With a group of three or four friends, assemble the following large swaths of fabric:

Four shades of green:

a) a blue-based emerald green (clear and vivid)
b) a blue-based sen green (soft and dusty)
c) a yellow-based mossy green (rich and in- tense)
d) a yellow-based bright chartreuse (light and clear)

Four shades of red:

a) a blue-based scarlet (clear and vivid)
b) a blue-based dusty raspberry (soft and muted)
c) a yellow-based tomato (rich and intense)
d) a yellow-based bright poppy (light and clear)

Four shades of blue:

a) a blue-based royal (clear and vivid)
b) a blue-based cornflower (soft and dusty)
c) a yellow-based teal (rich and intense)
d) a yellow-based bright aqua (light and clear)

Four shades of pink:

a) a blue-based fuchsia (vivid and clear)
b) a blue-based dusty rose (soft and muted)
c) a yellow-based salmon (rich and intense)
d) a yellow-based bright coral (light and bright)
Now drape each other in these colors, following the order in which they're listed. As you're watching this process, be sure to focus on the person's face, not the color. (Remember, you're seeking to discover which color brings the person out, not sim- ply the color you like best.)
In the right shade, you'll watch the person's skin tone become smooth and clear; shadows will seem to miraculously disappear!
In the wrong shades, the color will reflect onto the person's face; you'll notice the color, not the person.
Have your friends vote on what they're seeing. You'll nearly always find the consensus of others to be correct. (Your own opinion may be somewhat prejudiced by color preferences and the thought of having to change your wardrobe!)
If the consensus is that the colors of group a tested best on you consistently, you are a "Winter." If the consensus is toward group b, you are a "Summer." If the consensus is toward group c, you are an "Autumn"; and if the consensus is toward group d, then you are a "Spring."
NOTE: It's very important to perform this draping ceremony in natural light, so be sure you work near a large window with good sun exposure. Also, if your hair has been artificially colored, or has any chemical processing on it such as perms or waves, be sure to cover it with a white turban or bandanna. This will prevent your altered haircolor from throwing any shadows on your face, which could result in a misanalysis. This is crucial in determining your season, so don't forgo it in the name of vanity! Since the skin tone is a much subtler color than your hair, it's very easy to simply match the shades of fabric to the hair, rather than to the complexion. Also, be sure you remove all traces of makeup before you begin!

Questions & Answers

Q. Can I be a mixture of seasons!
A. No, you cannot. It's genetically impossible! Each "season" refers to a specific type of coloring, of which there are only four. For example, you cannot have a mixture of a golden and a blue undertone. Since the undertone functions as the base of your skin tone, it determines whether the shade of skin you have is either warm or cool. A color can only have one base, whether it's skin color, haircolor, fabric, a cosmetic shade, or even the paint on your wall!
The basic law of abstract color theory states that the base of a color determines its shade. For example, a burgundy red has a blue base. It is this blue base that actually causes the shade to be burgundy instead of some other shade of red, say tomato red or rust. Likewise, a mossy green is caused by a yellow base, while an emerald green is emerald because its base is blue! Your skin tone is exactly the same. An olive skin is always caused by a blue undertone. That's why it's olive and not a tawny beige (which is caused by a golden undertone). On the other hand, an ivory skin tone has a golden base, which is what makes it ivory instead of porcelain (which is caused by a blue undertone). There isn't a single individual-dead, alive. or yet to be born who possesses a mixture of undertones. It simply can not happen!
Q. What about "intensity"? Can I be a mixture of the "cools" (WinteSummer) or the "warms" (Autumn/Spring)!
A. No, you cannot. As with the undertone, you have one type of intensity to your coloring. High contrast coloring needs clear shades to enhance and bring it out effectively. Blended coloring needs a saturation of color to allow the subtlety of your coloring to show through gracefully. Mixing the clear colors with the dusty tones only negates your particular type of coloring.
Moreover, the palettes themselves simply don't mix effectively when you translate them into clothing and cosmetics. If you were to try to create color combinations of the cool Winter and Summer palettes, for example, you would never be able to effectively combine the jewel tones of Winter with the elegantly dusty shades of Summer. Since the palettes are of opposing intensities, the shades themselves are not at all complementary. Any resulting outfits of clothing would simply be a hodgepodge of mismatched colors!
Even more disasterous would be an attempt to mix the tones in cosmetics. For a makeup to be successful, you absolutely must keep all the colors on your face in one family of color, both in terms of the base and the intensity. Mixing them is akin to wearing a shocking pink blouse with a bright orange lipstick! While the result might not always be this glaring, opposite color families do not blend together!
Q. But I've had my colors done "professionally," and I was told I'm a mixture. Why would that have happened?
A. Basically, that means one of two things. Either you were analyzed incorrectly, which is, unfortunately, becoming quite common because of improper training and a lack of experience among color consultants, or it's simply a question of semantics.
Frequently, in an effort to delineate among the specific shades that you can actually wear effectively (be cause of the variations in individual skin tone, hair, and eye colors that exist within a season), color consult ants have attempted to make your palette as specific to you as possible. This sometimes manifests in your being labeled a mixture of seasons or having a "subseason." While this is technically incorrect, since the colors within the seasonal palettes do not actually blend with the other palettes, the result is usually a way of defining the range of shades within your season that appear most exciting on you.
From my experience, based on analyzing thousands of clients over a number of years, I simply find it too inaccurate and confusing to try to suggest to my clients that they "mix" the palettes. It's not helpful in a practical sense, for it doesn't actually add any colors that they can effectively work with in clothing, cosmetics, or haircolor. And, since it's technically incorrect, as I previously stated, I find that the clients who come to our salon with a "mixture" of colors nearly always have either a diluted appearance, in terms of focus, or they have a lot of mistakes hanging in their closets! Can my "contrast" change with age?
Q. What about as my hair turns gray? Does this change my season?
A. No, your season never changes with age, or anything else! As your hair begins to gray, Nature is not only changing your haircolor, but is also changing your skin tone and eyes at the same time. The balance among these three elements always remains the same. For example, if you're a mature Vivid Winter, like actress Bea Arthur, the balance among your haiskin/eyes is best described as high contrast. You have a vivid haircolor, a fair skin, and an intense eye color. True, your haircolor is not the same as when you were twenty years old, when it was probably a deep brunette, but you've maintained the high contrast coloring you were born with. As your hair began to gray, it didn't turn a dull or mousy shade of gray, but rather went a brilliant silver, didn't it? Your skin and eyes have actually gotten lighter at the same time, even though this difference is probably imperceptible to you. Do yone that your high contrast has not changed at all! You still have a vivid haircolor, a fair skin, and an in- ten eye color. Your balance has remained the same! You are still a Vivid Winter, and the colors that focus your specific coloring are still cool and clear!
Whatever your season, Nature created your haiskin/eyes as a unit. They always change together, and the balance among them never changes That's why your season never changes!
Q. Does my season have anything to do with style? For example, I read somewhere that Winters should stick to solids and geometrics, while Autumns are very good in tweeds and textures.
A. Not in the least! Having your colors done has absolutely nothing to do with anything other than determining what your skin tone is and which palette of colors to work with to enhance it. It tells you nothing more specific than the range of colors to use. Your specific clothing choices (including fabrics and textures, as well as shapes and lines), makeup shades, and haircolor range all come from developing your personal style through discovering your Image Identity.
For example, Autumns are frequently told to concentrate on use of textures in their wardrobe. Yet Ann-Margret is a Fiery Autumn, but as a Theatrical Romantic, I'd much rather see her in silks, satins, angora, and se quins than rough textures or tweeds any day of the year!
Having your colors done can be a wonderful and exciting addition to your life, and I highly recommend it when it's properly executed. Just be careful not to give it more importance than it's worth. Your coloring is only one part of you - it's worthy of being carefully looked at, but only within the contest of your total look.

Now I’m sure for those of us who are more visual the written descriptions of these colors can be ultra confusing! Unfortunately we can not share the seasonal palettes David has created. However, the palettes as well as a wealth of additional information on the sub seasons, additional celebrities as well as the three make up palettes for each season etc. can be accessed within the Four Season Freedom Facebook Group.
My personal tip is to get a good grasp on basic color theory by understanding what blue based vs yellow based colors look like. A really creative and explorative way to approach this is by getting some paints out and mixing the tones to see how blue (cool) with added yellow (warm) transforms into a warm blue. (Please ensure you use a true Yellow, a true Blue, a true Red, a true Black and a true White).
The goal of the system isn’t to just wear the colors David has in his seasonal palettes - it’s to use these as a jumping off point. So, that you can then take the concept of your coloring and have the ability to intuitively identify colors that harmonise with you rather than pull out a palette on your phone every time you go clothes or make up shopping!
Each season can be quickly understood by what it’s characteristics evoke:

Winter (Cool) is Jewel

Spring (Warm) is Vibrant

Summer (Cool) is Lush

Autumn (Warm) is Fiery

A quick disclaimer!! No season gets boring muted colors. Everyone gets beautifully saturated colors! You won’t see the sad, drab and dull tones often seen in other seasonal color systems here! For example Summer is Lush in tone not muted and Autumn is fiery in tone, again not muted In any sense if the word.

Let’s talk about the defining characteristics tied to certain seasons

I want to preface this part, by reminding us all that much like our Kibbe ID, we are born with the innate characteristics we have ; we are who we are meant to be! And so it’s never a case of being relegated to certain IDs or color seasons based on certain characteristics. But, instead we are embarking on the journey to discover what has always been there with the objective of achieving harmony with ourselves and in doing so bringing out our unique beauty.
Brown eyes Brown eyes are a feature of high contrast coloring and therefore will always be a high contrast season; Autumn or Winter.
Naturally Ginger / Red hair Ginger / Red hair is a warm color (a mix of a golden base with added red) and therefore will always be a warm season; Spring or Autumn.
An Olive undertone Olive is always caused by a blue undertone, therefore it will always be Winter.
Naturally Blonde hair Blonde hair can be any season except for Winter which requires a high level of contrast between the features; Skin/HaiEyes.
The Color Black Black is considered a cool tone that casts a shade on its surrounds, due to its depth of contrast is only given to Winters as with Winters it enhances the clarity of coloring whether-as with all other seasons it muddies their coloring.
The Color White White, on the other hand is universally given to all seasons as it is considered a neutral.

I hope i'm not mixing up books here and i'm thinking this is a mainstream book? (i don't tend to read obscure titles).
At the start a prostitute is crushed to death under the weight of a fat guy in a hotel room - the guy had been stealth killed (poison?)
Later in the book, after a mammoth chase the hero and a woman counterpart arrange to meet a friendly in a coffee shop. Our hero talks about how good the hot chocolate tastes after such a chase and the 'friendly' starts suggesting things about going to his car, getting into his car etc. They think it's a good idea and are powerless to resist, it turns out they have been drugged (GHB?)
It may have something to do with sleeper agents who are activated by a code word? I THINK the word is 'totenkopf'. There is certainly a word they are trying to discover the meaning of.
It's the name of the book and the activation word that has given me a brain worm!

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anticipate, anxiety, any, anybody, anymore, anyone, anything, anyway, anywhere, apart, apartment, apologize, apparent, apparently, appeal, appear, appearance, apple, application, apply, appoint, appointment, appreciate, approach, appropriate, approval, approve, approximately, architect, area, argue, argument, arise, arm, armed, army, around, arrange, arrangement, arrest, arrival, arrive, art, article, artist, artistic, as, ashamed, aside, ask, asleep, aspect, assault, assert, assess, assessment, asset, assign, assignment, assist, assistance, assistant, associate, association, assume, assumption, assure, at, athlete, athletic, atmosphere, attach, attack, attempt, attend, attention, attitude, attorney, attract, attraction, attractive, attribute, audience, author, authority, auto, available, average, avoid, award, aware, awareness, away, awful, baby, back, background, bad, badly, bag, balance, ball, ban, band, bank, bar, barely, barrel, barrier, base, baseball, basic, basically, basis, 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Hey everybody, so I recently followed a recipe I found on TikTok (yeah I know..) but it was really good, but the overall opinion of the people I let it try was that it was just really sweet... also I hope this question fits in here...
so here's the recipe, as short as I can get it (it's also in metric, because I don't know imperial, sry in advance):
175g Creme Cheese 200ml Heavy or Whipping Cream (I used whipping cream) half a can of condensed milk (about 200g)
mix those together for the cream
then you dunk whatever cookies or biscuits you want into a bit of milk and lay them out in a dish
spread half of the cream ontop and repeat
for a chocolate ganache heat 50ml Heavy of Whipping Cream und melt dark chocolate in it spread on top and refrigerate
ok so I know that most of the sugar content comes from the condensed milk, I tried finding some condensed milk with less sugar in it, but to no avail, so now I want to know, does anybody know how to make this recipe taste just a bit less sweet? can I add something to balance the taste? I bought coconut condensed milk, thinking it would be less sweet, but when I looked at the can of my first attempt, it has basically the same amount of sugar, I also tried finding some heavy cream with less sugar, but they all have pretty much the same where I live (Austria) in my first 2 attempts I used Lotus cookies, which are like caramel biscuits you get served with coffee and then I used the Leibniz biscuits which are more bland but still sweet biscuits, thinking it would be less sweet, it was still pretty sweet though haha in the end it tasted really good both times, but it's still really really sweet...

This happened in the morning and I still can't stop thinking about it.
So to clarify I can't eat boiled / cooked carrots, I don't know why but the texture makes me vomit, just having them in mu mouth makes me nauseous. My mom and my sister know this, they have for years.
Today I arrived at work as usual, packed away my lunch and waited until mid-day to sit down and eat: chicken on a creamy sauce and white rice, but the rice had carrots, cooked carrots. This big chunks mixed in with it. I sat there for a good ten minutes just looking at the thing because I can't physically eat it, in the end I just ate the chicken but I was honestly so upset I had to force it down.
When I arrived home both my mom and my sister asked me if I had liked lunch as it was a new recipe but the only thing I could picture was the carrots, I told them, asked them why were there carrots on the rice and they told me they had forgotten. My mom even seemed upset I hadn't eaten the whole dish but I can't! I can't eat it! They shrugged it off and I guess I was supposed to shrug it off too, I mean it's just rice but its the middle of the night now and I can't sleep thinking on it. The whole day I have been asking myself how could they forget I can't eat carrots.
After thinking about it I'm upset for a few reasons:
1) It's not the first time this has happened, earlier this year it was the same thing with a salad. Huge chunks of carrots I just can't eat.
2) Earlier on the day my sister warned she had bought some lettuce I didn't like in case I wanted a sandwich, this was because her boyfriend preferred that one, but that she would buy the other kind later in the week. This was fine at the time but now I just keep thinking, how is it that she goes out of her way to buy a crappy sort of lettuce for a guy she has known for 5 years but remembering your brother physically can't eat carrots twice in 5 months is just too much work?
3) Neither of them were even remotely apologetic, they just shrugged me off and got offended that I didn't eat the fucking rice.
I honestly think I'm overthinking but I can't stop thinking about it, I haven't eaten anything since and I am too upset to notice if I'm hungry. I have to get up at five and I am tired of being upset, I just downed a double hoping it would silence my brain but nothing, I still can't sleep.
Update: I did apologize.
Well they beat me to it. After getting dressed I went downstairs to the kitchen to apologize but my mom met me first. She apologized for making me feel like she didn't care for me and promised she will be more careful in the future. I apologized as well and told her she had nothing to be sorry for and that I was exaggerating. My sister was similar, though I did grovel a bit more with her.
Both of them told me they still felt bad and promised to make chocolate volcanoes for dinner. Lunch today is spaghetti Bolognese with home made bread, I have instructions to put the butter in the oven before eating.

6' 1", 190 lbs, unattached, monogamous, downtown. Kidfree, plantfree until quite recently, not quite catfree at all. I run a cool online business and have a decent amount of free time. People say my weird fiction is terrifying, my sauerkraut's the best they've ever had, the flat spot on top of my skull is something I'm exaggerating for attention, and sometimes even that my voice is hot. I like thrift stores, diy, charcoal denim, Moomins, walkmans, doom metal, dim sum, hallucinatorily sad folk songs, and late night conversations on fire escapes. Haven't smoked in 550 days and change, but the brown liquor's still doing me friendly. Never sure if I'm more Calvin or Hobbes, probably a switch. More into philosophy than politics, more into making than consumption. If I like you, I'll want to fix your computer and read you stories in bed.
In search of someone comfortably strange for cuddling at shows and testing recipes. Looking for a relationship, not just to hook up, not weave endless conversation loops. Theoretically open to distance. Usually I crush on thoughtful creative types who aren't entirely grown up. Let's hold hands and stare directly at the sun.
(Note: I'm only into big girls. By this I mean rolls and a belly, not just sorta thick. So many people have asked me for details on this one I feel like I've gotta be clear. No disrespect meant to the non-squishy queens but it's how my brain works.)

I've been playing with my sample spreadsheet and was reminded that I literally relegated Sucreabeille to its own tab away from everyone else because I felt so negatively! They were my intro to indies, when I didn't know how to research scents or houses yet. I was hesitant to purchase because their marketing vibe didn't mesh with me, but I was convinced by the fawning reviews on almost every scent (on their website). At the time, I also didn't realize how expensive Suc is compared to many other brands!
I figured I could post these as a counterpoint to the mostly positive reviews that showed up when I searched for Suc scents. I'm sure the house works really well for some, but it REALLY didn't for me. Their pure gourmands worked better, but I haven't worn my top rated scent from this batch since I tried it out. I rested all of these for two weeks before testing, and I haven't revisited them since I got through all of them a few weeks after that.
My tastes: I really like rich resins and non-nag incense, as well as a spectrum of flormands and gourmands. I don't love fruits, green/aquatic scents or many dirt/dead leaf scents. Top houses: Olympic Orchids, Mythpunk Olfactive, Solstice Scents. Mid houses: Nui Cobalt, Cocoa Pink. Low hit rates: Suc, Alkemia, Possets, Haus of Gloi, BPAL GC
With that, I hope you enjoy my record of bewilderment.
BELSNICKEL Hot espresso with juniper berries and brown sugar.

• In the jar, tutti fruitti jelly beans, maaaybe coffee jelly bean if I smell hard enough to get a headache. On skin, very sweet, easier to see the brown sugar now and it's THICK. Syrupy. There's a little bitter note that could be juniper, sure, but it's toying with soapiness. After 15 min, already almost gone. The sweetness plus green now smells like a bathroom air freshener, plus the bathroom; not good. By an hour: gone! Weirdly getting more wafts of it around 4 hrs, and it's back to tutti fruitti? MAYBE brown sugar but god, just cloying. Erratic and synthetic, big disappointment. 1/10

CHAOS WITCH Freshly cut magnolias and moonflowers play with nutmeg cream.

• Very sweet pale floral with a cool spice, not identifiable as nutmeg. No clear magnolia. I didn't pay close enough attention to review this one well, but I was very disappointed by the complete lack of magnolia (a scent I love) and the vaguely unpleasant Suc DNA 3/10

DO NO HARM, TAKE NO SHIT Plums, nectarines, apricots, and blackberries sparkle on a bed of sage and fallen leaves deep in the autumnal forest.

• In jar: Fairly pleasant candy fruit smell (plum, berries) with a little cool herbaceous back to it. On skin: Fruits disappear to general sweetness over a damp earth and burnt rubber scent, maybe burnt leaves? Confusing. At 15 min, sort of a fruity sweetness? Over a sour off-note that could be the rotten leaves, but it comes off as sort of... poopy? I actually washed this off before leaving for work (less than an hour) bc I didn't want to smell like it - scrubbing didn't totally work, so I can say it's vaguely sweet with a dirty-herby soap base that I don't care for but isn't making me yak 1/10

AFTERGLOW Dark chocolate, amber, honey.

• Definitely get dark chocolate and honey in the jar! Not creamy but still rich and warm. On skin it loses power and sweetness very fast, it's a very faint borderline-musty borderline-burnt rubber smell with a baby powder. After a few minutes, thank god it's back to the bottle smell! Not as chocolatey which is too bad, but a pleasant sweet amber with a hint of chocolate. Something of the wet scent is still sneaking around? But then it turned into a cocoa butter lotion smell. Stays similar over the next 4 or 5 hrs, growing fainter. I think I like this? Maybe a bit synthetic though, but then again I don't always love the sharpness of honey 6/10

CREAM TEA A warm mug of creamy, frothy, caffeine-injected tea. A blend of chai tea, burnt sugar, white musk, warm milk, and hot scones slathered with raspberry jam and honey.

• More like an iced chai, not a warm scent in the jar. There's a sharp zingy berry in the background which might be what's cooling it down. On skin, the cool note is more dry loose leaf black tea, with a big sweet raspberry jam in front - not the most natural but nice. As it starts to dry, the closer I get to my skin the more it smells like a scented lotion. I don't get milk or pastry, or any of the chai spice at this point. At an hour, a sweet, creamy raspberry; still reminds me of a scented lotion, a bit bath-producty for me. At 4 hrs, a very faint sweet raspberry. Creamy in the sense that it's not sharp at all. Barely there but very pleasant. 6/10

YOUR SKELETON IS ALWAYS WET Pistachio and almond with exotic spices.

• In jar: Nutty! Close to what I hoped for, definitely pistachio/almond extract with a little hint of spice. Wet on skin, like huffing an extract bottle ach! That's a plus for me haha. Dries down to be very faint, mostly spices. This reminds me more of some chai blends I've had than Cream Tea does. At an hour, mostly dry spices, like a spice cabinet for only sweet bakes. I think the nuts are presenting as bottles of extract in that same cabinet, but definitely not the stars. 4 hrs: very faint, more of the nuts now but it's a generic non-spice sweetness, only vaguely nutty and kind of black peppery 5/10

COVEN A cauldron of herbs float in black, golden, and white ambers. Fir needles, cedarwood, and autumn leaves against a backdrop of pumpkin spice and sassafras.

• Definitely get a dark green foresty scent with a soft herbal element; a vague sweetness that is nondescript light spice, maybe the sassafras. Started promisingly dark-wet-forest but then turns into a barely-there high end/sexy soap, maybe that's ambecedar. Maybe good for soapy folk, not for me! 4/10

AMAZONIA Pear, fig, blueberry, ylang ylang.

• So so sweet, almost like one of those shark or frog gummy candies, gummy life savers, chewy gummy bears. No specific fruits identifiable. On skin, there's something musty to the fruitiness, maybe like a plasticky scent. I could almost pretend to smell pear, but it's not good 1/10

SMOKE AND DECAY Warm snickerdoodle cookies dipped in buttercream frosting, campfire wood smoke, crisp red apple, Indian sandalwood, a freshly poured oatmeal stout, orange spiced chai tea.

• Yummm sweet baking spices, definitely like a dark molasses spice cake in the jar (but the carrier smell is bleh). Wet on skin it's immediately a more realistic foody spice, but with a warm wood. After a minute the spice blooms off and there's something almost floral about it? Definitely get a bit of the orange, maybe cookie dough. 8/10

VENOM Oud wood, smoked patchouli, coal, freshly paved tar, cedarwood.

• WOW!! Smells like a sweet burning tire?? Maybe in a good way?? I want to smell it on a boy. Hmm but not good after all. Disappears almost entirely, fades to a hard to detect sun-sweet fresh asphalt. So hard to pick up though. 1/10

HOCUS POCUS Wormwood, bitter almond, figs, violets, nicotina, sparkling aldehyde.

• The wormwood is giving thin and clean-sweet like a not-quite almond extract. However, once this dries it's straight up Dove soap. It's so spot on idk what else to say! Another one for the soap lovers. 3/10

I am NOT OOP. OOP is u/justathrowaway282641
Originally posted to TwoHotTakes + her own page
Previous BoRU #1, BoRU #2, BoRU #3, BoRU #4, BoRU #5, BoRU 6
Editor’s Note: removed all relevant comments from older posts to make space for new updates. To see all older relevant comments, check out the previous BoRUs above
NEW UPDATE MARKED WITH ----
[New Update]: My family forgot to invite me to my grandparents funeral, but they are convinced I was there.
Trigger Warnings: death of loved ones, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, harassment
RECAP
Original Post: November 14, 2023**
I’m 30s F and caused a major blowup in my family and now none of them are talking to me. For background, my hometown is tiny (500pop) and when I went 2 hrs away to “the city” (15,000pop) for college, I loved it. I ended up staying after graduation, got married, and am happy here for a decade. I visit my home town every few weeks or so, call/text my family near daily, and thought we were all good. My family’s pretty small. Just my brother, mom, step dad, dad, step mom, and an aunt and uncle (mom’s siblings, never married, no kids). My mother's grandparents moved to my home town when I was in high school and were just down the street from us. My family has always been pretty drama free (aside from my parent’s divorce when I was a kid) and we’ve been happy. The step-parents were blended in perfectly and we share holidays and celebrations together. We’re all super close and just the perfect little group.
Ever since I moved away, the topic of “when am I moving back?” is constant, and I’ve always laughed it off. My home town has nothing. You have to drive 30 minutes for milk and bread. 60-90 minute one-way commutes to work. And floods shut down the main road every Easter. I love the town, but I love here more. I have parks, stores, community events, a library! The “city” is great. My family grumbles that I need to move back, but I refuse. I've been trying to encourage them to come here, especially since it's not an hour drive to the nearest medical facility.
Now to the meat and potatoes: both my grandparents passed over COVID times. They were both old and their health had been failing for a while so it was only a matter of time. Thankfully they didn’t catch it, but it made visiting them impossible and we survived mostly through FaceTime. They both passed in their sleep months apart. Both were cremated and kept securely under the kitchen sink for safe keeping while the pandemic blew over. That was 2021.
Well, I just found out my family held a funeral for them and scattered the ashes in my uncle’s maple grove over the summer. No one said a word to me about it. I’ve visited numerous times before and after and not one word. I only found out because my great uncle from California posted on Facebook a few weeks ago that he is entering hospice and was so thankful his health stayed strong enough for him to see his little sister (my grandma) to her final resting place. I was confused and called my mom. She was all “Yeah, the funeral we had in July, remember?” Ya’ll, I visited them for the 4th of July. They did the funeral the 8th. Not a word about it to me. They had planned this for months. Long enough to arrange for my infirm great uncle to be brought over from the other side of the country. Apparently, they talked about it “all the time”.
Everyone is convinced I was at the funeral. They SWEAR I was there. I can prove I wasn’t because Google’s got my location history. My hubby is baffled because he was supposedly there, too, but he had to work every weekend in June and July. Time clock doesn’t lie. My family straight up forgot about me. I’m hurt. I’m sad. And they’re pissed at me “for lying”. They think I’m causing drama over nothing. Nothing I say can convince them I wasn’t there. My family is united in this. And they’ve all put me “on read” until I admit I’m wrong. They think I’ve gone nuts. Either there’s a doppelganger of me attending events, or my family doesn’t want to admit they screwed up. I’m not backing down.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and my family’s been vague posting on Facebook about “forgetful kids” and mental health. It’s so freaking weird and I don’t know if I’m in bizzaro world or what’s going on. My mom’s best friend reached out and said I should just admit I was wrong and apologize, that I’m causing my mom so much unnecessary stress. I asked her if she’s checked everyone’s home for CO2. She hung up on me. (We checked our CO2, and our testers are running just fine.) I have reached out to a few people in my home town to check in on my folks, and they all say they're fine. I even spoke with the local volunteer fire fighter group to see if they could check for gas leaks. Not sure if they were able to.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve shown them the proof I wasn’t there, but they know I’m tech savvy and just assume I’ve Photoshopped it. Hubby says we need a break, and we’re going to be staying home this holiday season.
Edit: I don't know the update rules, so I'll post updates to my profile should anyone want them.  
Update #1: November 27, 2023
Not sure how to do updates on posts, so figured I'd post anything on my profile. Folks have private messaged me and this will be easier I think?
It's 11/27 and Thanksgiving just happened. Hubby and I stayed home. We got a small turkey and made our own little thanksgiving. It was nice. We ate around noon, then watched a movie, and later sat outside with a bottle of wine to watch the sun set behind the trees and neighbor houses.
We usually take the day before off, drive to my folks, stay the night, and help with the Thanksgiving Day cooking. So it wasn't until Wednesday night that my mom broke the silence. Mom called and asked when I was showing up, and I told her we were staying home this year, but for them to have a happy Thanksgiving, and to give the rest of the family my love. She was quiet for a long time after I said that, and I think she eventually mumbled an "okay", or something, and hung up. It wasn't an angry hang up. Just a hang up. On Thanksgiving day, I sent a group "Happy Thanksgiving!" gif to our family group chat. I received a few "happy Thanksgiving"'s back. No one's said anything else. There's been no posts on Facebook.  
Update #2: December 12, 2023
So, I think I mentioned in one of my comments that my dad and I usually talk on the phone every Sunday morning. We're both early risers so we'd chat over our morning coffees and watch the sunrise. Him and I haven't really spoken since this all went down and it's been tough. I'm used to talking to him, you know?
Well, I was sitting outside in my usual spot, watching the sun rise and freezing my butt off, and he called me. I'm not entirely sure how to describe the emotions I felt. It was a mix of panic, hope, terror, happiness, and dread. I ended up answering because I just had to know what he wanted. It was an awkward conversation. He didn't address the current "drama", but instead tiptoed around the situation with all the grace of an cow on stilts. For instance, a simple "How are you doing?" Type question was answered with a "Not good." And the whole conversation would stall out for a bit because he knew why I wasn't doing well. So we ended up talking about the weather, the various winter birds we'd seen in our feeders, and the Christmas decorations around town. Things like that.
Eventually he asked if we were coming out for Christmas, and sounded sad when I told him we weren't. He asked if him and step mom could come visit us instead, and I told him it wasn't a good idea this year. That hubby and I were going to spend a quiet holiday together. I let him know he should be receiving some gifts at his PO Box any day now, so to please pick them up from the post office and put them under the family tree for everyone. He said he'd ship ours to us as well.
And that was pretty much it. No crazy drama to report. The only posts on Facebook have been the usual Christmas excitement ones, countdowns, photos of Santa, silly gift ideas, photos of company Christmas parties.
On a personal note: Hubby and I are doing alright. Our health is good, our spirits high, and we're as solid as ever. We each got Christmas bonus' at our jobs, so we're excited about that. They're not large, but we're happy to have them. We have also done advent calendars for the first time ever. I got him a Lego one, and he got me a hot chocolate one. We're going to do the calendars again next year. Maybe make a tradition out of it.
Everyone please have a safe and happy holidays.  
Inheritance: December 16, 2023
I've received a lot - A LOT - of messages and private DMs urging me to check into inheritance and such. I'm really touched a lot of Internet strangers are worried about me and I wanted to ensure everyone that inheritance is most likely not an issue here. I'd almost be relieved if it was, because then it would at least make some sense. Money does weird things to people, you know?
No one in my family is wealthy by any means. After my grandparents' passed, their small estate was used to pay for their end of life expenses and remaining assets split up. Everyone directly related got an equal split (so excluded my dad and the step parents). I don't remember the exact amount I received, but it was around $5k if I recall. My brother gave me his share, too, so I could finish paying off my college debt while the interest freeze was active.
The great uncle from California has kids and grand kids, and great grandkids of his own, and also isn't wealthy. I think one of his kids makes good money doing something in finance, but I'm not entirely sure. I can't imagine he left us anything, as we hardly knew him. My mom, aunt, and uncle only met him a few times in their lives, and my brother and I even less. Grandma and him were close, but I don't think he liked my grandpa much.  
Christmas: December 25, 2023
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I've received a lot of support through my posts and I'm really grateful. Writing these updates have had a therapeutic effect.
Yesterday was Sunday, but I didn't answer my dad when he called. I just really didn't feel up to a pointless chat, so let it go to voicemail. He tried to reach me a few times throughout the day, but I didn't answer.
Our bestie last minute invited us over to his house for Christmas day lunch (today), so husband and I were busy all Christmas Eve making cookies, peanut brittle, and homemade suckers/hard candies for his kids. Mom tried to reach out as well, but I also ignored her calls.
We had a BLAST at lunch! Our friend's kids are a lot of fun to be around. They got some techy presents from their grandparents (Quest vr headset and steam decks, lucky little rascals) Friend and his wife aren't good with tech, while hubby and I are, so we helped get them set up while our friend played a good host to his folks and inlaws. The grandparents didn't realize that a Steam deck required a Steam account, so we got the kids all their own accounts set up, added them to our steam friends lists, and gifted them some games. We also bought them a few VR games for their headset, and they were off to the races with Beat Saber in no time.
As for my folks: My brother texted and asked if we could talk sometime tomorrow. I think me ignoring mom and dad has caused some kind of upset. Which they deserve.  
Brother’s call: December 26, 2023
Spoke with my brother over the phone this morning.
For starters, he apologized for everything. Him and I are good (for now). For a bit of background, my brother and I are only 2 years apart. There weren't a lot of kids around growing up, so the two of us were often stuck doing stuff together. So we have a lot of shared interests and passions. He's been pretty silent on this whole matter, but still "part of the group", if you know what I mean. I think the thought of losing him out of my life was probably the most painful, because he's always been there. He was my rock until I met my husband. He's definitely a Mama's boy, though, so anything mom wanted, he made sure she got. I'm happy to have him back.
Without further ado, here's the story from the horse's mouth:
Mom apparently had a cancer scare late last year (which no one told me about, go figure), and dad had a stint put in his heart back in January (which I did know about). This "sense of mortality" has apparently lit a fire under Mom's ass to get me back home. But since I wasn't reacting to her passive aggressive hinting, she and step mom decided to go full crazy. My great uncle's health was bad, and he'd been asking about funeral arrangements for his sister (my grandma) for a while, so the moms decided to plan it. And use the event as a giant middle finger to me. They kept all the planning pretty hush-hush between the two of them, so no one on our side of the family actually knew about the funeral until like 2 weeks before. The moms said they'd invited hubby and I. No one thought anything about it. No one thought to mention, confirm, or check with me.
The plan was to scatter the ashes, say a few words, and maybe head to town for lunch. It was a small affair. The mom's didn't even tell the family that our great uncle was coming for it. Like I said, it was a small thing. Barely a footnote. No one thought it was odd because we're pretty chill people.
4th of July happens. Hubby and I are out. No one thought to mention it, as we were all busy celebrating and having a great time. Any time the topic of "this weekend" would start, the conversation would be quickly shifted by one of the moms. We went back home.
8th of July happens. Great uncle rolls into town with a few of his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids, and it's a surprise to everyone (but the moms). Everyone drives to the maple grove and the moms have brought a ton of food and stuff. It's a full blown party. No one on my side noticed I wasn't there, because there were so many extra faces outside the usual group. They did the spreading of the ashes, they said their words, they ate, they had a great time. It wasn't until our great uncle left, and all his side left with him, that they realized I wasn't there. And hadn't been there.
And this is where the crazy went up a notch. My brother says the moms were happy no one noticed I wasn't there. And that this was proof to everyone that I needed to move back because I was so easily forgotten about. Because none of them thought to reach out, right? They basically did a ton of guilt tripping manipulation bullshit and it made everyone upset at me for not showing up. Somehow it was my fault for being excluded. So suddenly everyone was on their side with "sticking it to me".
But then a few months went by, and tempers cooled, and then I guess the horror of it set in. Followed by the shame, but by then they were "in too deep". How do you undo something like this? And since I hadn't brought it up, I guess they figured they would all just stay quiet about it and hope I never asked about a funeral.
That's when I discovered the situation from my great uncle's Facebook and called my mom, who panicked and went with the stupidest solution. Claiming I was there. Don't I remember?
I ended up talking with a few friends from high school, mentioning the situation, and word got back to those in town. So suddenly town gossip and little old church ladies got involved. Was I, or wasn't I at the funeral? Did my family forget to invite me to the funeral of the only grandparents I'd ever know? Or am I just causing a ruckus? My brother said they all just went with mom's answer. Of course they wouldn't forget me. Of course I was there. Of course they're good people. And it just snowballed.
The family expected me to eventually fold. I'm usually a nonconfrontational person, so me sticking to my guns was unexpected. And then I missed Thanksgiving. And now Christmas. With no sign of backing down. And I guess the realization that I could just stop being part of their lives is setting in and my parents are panicking. He's tried just getting them to apologize and explain, but stubbornness prevails. They want to rug sweep, but I'm not letting them.
My brother is upset with everything that's happened. He's realized just how crappy it all has been and he wants nothing to do with it anymore. But since he lives with my mom, he can't "get away from it".
He has asked if he can come stay with us for a little bit. I spoke with hubby, and he's in agreement with me that my brother can come crash in our spare bedroom for as long as he wants. Brother works remotely, so it's no trouble for him to pick up and go. I believe he's making the trip today or tomorrow. Not entirely sure, but I expect crap to hit the fan when he arrives.
On a side note, hubby's stoked that my brother and I made up. The two usually game together, but haven't due to "the situation". He's downstairs right now setting up his man cave in preparation for my brother's arrival. I'm happy to see him so excited.  
Brother's Here: December 27, 2023
My brother rolled in late last night. He'd obviously been crying and when I opened the door, he just held me and sobbed. I'd never seen him like that before and soon both of us were just standing in the doorway crying into one another. He kept apologizing. Over and over again. Said he wasn't sure why he went with it. Just kept saying sorry. Hubby got him all set up in the spare bedroom while brother and I talked. My brother's a wreck. He's always been a big guy, but he's lost a lot of weight and his clothes just hang off him. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was on drugs. We talked for a little bit before bed and he re-explained everything for my husband. I'd told hubby the story, but it was just so weird that hearing it again helped.
This morning my brother was up at dawn making some coffee and getting his work day going. Hubby's off all week (lucky) so hubby made us working folk some pancakes and bacon. So far everything's peaceful. We've decided not to answer any calls from our family. They've been made aware that he arrived safely, and that we are going to spend the New Years together, and that we're not answering any calls until January 1st. They may text if they wish. I'm sure they're losing their minds. Serves them right.
Everyone, have a safe and happy new years! Don't drink and drive!  
Happy 2024!: January 2, 2024
I hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable holidays, and may the new year be full of joy and happiness!
Not too much of an update. Things here have been quiet. My brother's settled in nicely and he's a great housemate. Our place isn't very big, but we have full basement and a nice outside patio/porch area so it doesn't feel crowded at all with the extra addition. He's a quiet and clean guy. No hassle at all. He got some fresh clothes from the Walmart, a haircut, and trimmed his beard, so he's more "presentable" now. He's a lady killer when he gets cleaned up. He's made nice with the (very nosy, but kind) retired couple next door and is adapting to "city living" nicely.
Folks back home have been mostly well behaved. There's been a few texts back and forth, as we're not answering calls. Mom mainly wants to know when brother's coming back, but he's keen on staying here for a while. Mom said I can't "keep him" and I told her he's a grown ass man and can do what he wants. Brother says he has her blocked after she ORDERED him to return home.
Brother has tentatively asked if he could stay long term, should he decide to, or at least longer than a usual visitor would stay. Which we're fine with. He has a good paying job and could afford an apartment, but he's never lived on his own and I would guess he has some anxiety about it. Should that be the case, he'll start paying us some rent and we'd probably adjust to give him the basement as his own space.  
Had to change the locks: January 17, 2024
My brother is officially staying with us for the long haul. Hubby and him spent all Sunday organizing the basement and shifting things around so he now has his own area to be comfortable in. He's pretty handy and has also started fixing little things around our house. Our windows and doors have never closed and locked/unlocked smoother. He even fixed one of the closets we never use because we can never get the darn door open. Sadly, he also had to change the locks on our house and get us all new keys.
This is because while hubby and I were out this Saturday, the moms showed up. They'd been calling and texting us all week, but we weren't really answering them, so I guess the two decided to drive over and hash it out in person. They have emergency keys to my place, and just let themselves in. Brother told them to leave, they argued, and my nosy (but kind) neighbors called the police when they noticed the commotion. So, we get a call from neighbor's wife, return home to some cops in our yard, all the neighbors out "vacuuming their trees", and my nosy (but kind) neighbors standing on my porch with my brother behind them, doing their best Gandalf "You shall not pass" impression.
Had to talk with the cops, explain that we were having a family dispute and word vomited. I don't really remember what all I said, and was shaking a lot. Our local cops are really great. Fantastic guys and gals in blue, and took it all in stride. It's really cold here, so one had me join him in his cruiser with the heat on, and gave me a bottle of water to calm down while we talked. They asked if we wanted the moms trespassed but I wasn't sure if that counted as a criminal charge so just asked the cops if they could just make them leave, which the cops did with no fuss. I think the moms were shocked we were taking this so seriously. They didn't fight or scream at us. Just left quietly.
My dad promised me he'd make sure his wife left us alone. "Or else". He said he'd also have a stern talk with my mom. Him and I talked Sunday morning, and he seemed absolutely at the end of his rope. Husband jokingly told my dad he could move in, too. To which he declined.
Not sure where to go from here, but we're getting some ring cameras installed once they arrive. And everyone but my dad is blocked. Hopefully they all just leave us alone.  
Nothing New To Report: February 2, 2024
Had a lot of DMs for updates, but don't have much anything to report on. The moms are behaving themselves. All's quiet on the western front. Felt weird ignoring or copy/pasting "no updates" to everyone, so here's what we've been doing, should anyone care.
Dad got a new bird/squirrel feeder from Amazon (looks like a little picnic table for a child's dolly but has a mesh top for the bird seed. I think it's supposed to be for chickens?) It's totes adorbs. To his horror, it also works as a Cooper hawk feeder, so now he's "fortifying his defenses" and putting up some trellises around it. He'll have to wait till warmer weather before planting anything to grow on them.
We had some ring cameras installed and put in a motion-activated camera that double functions as a light bulb. It goes in the light fixture outside the front door and is pretty cool. Video quality isn't all that great, but it's a nice addition I guess. It does overlook the bird feeders, so I've been watching it on my lunch breaks on the days I have to go into the office.
Hubby and brother are feuding. They started a coop farm in Stardew Valley a few days ago and they both want to romance Leah. My husband confided in me that he's also been romancing Sebastian as a backup. I'm not sure why he's keeping this a secret, but he's pretty smug about it.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
fractal_frog I hope your dad can outsmart the hawks!

OOP: He'll be able to, I just know it. He's used to dealing with the wildlife and having hawks about, but he just wasn't expecting one to snag a meal right from his new feeder.
I told him it was "technically" still a bird feeder. Just....for bigger birds. Which he thought was funny. He said he might make a little "no hawks allowed" sign to put up next to it.

MissOP: keep the updates coming. the moms are so close to folding it's just a little bit more. LMAO also, the bro mance between your husband and brother is so cute. lol Honestly, I think your husband making sure he has a side piece of Sebastian is absolutely the play.

OOP: So far still no word from the moms, but I hope you're right. I would love an apology and for us to begin moving past this. But I NEED that apology. I feel selfish saying that, but I refuse to "be the bigger person" on this. I just won't.
As for my brother and husband, yeah, they're basically soul mates. The two hit it off immediately when they first met, and they've been thick as thieves for years.  

Update: February 27, 2024
My dad came out for a visit over the weekend. We had a good time and the weather was lovely for some grilling and beers. It was really nice to see him again and he seemed healthy and in good spirits.
Here's his report from back home: Step mom (dad's wife) has started to realize she's screwed up. I credit her change of mindset to the fact that my dad sat her down and laid it out for her: she leaves his kids alone, or she's getting divorce papers. That apparently shut her up right quick, because they had a prenup done when they married and I'm not sure the details of it, but it wouldn't end favorably for her. She hasn't worked in years, so I imagine she'd be eligible for alimony? But I'm not versed in any of that legal mumbojumbo. Dad didn't seem too worried about it, so I'm not gonna worry about it.
Step dad was pissed the police were involved in the last "mom visit" (despite no one getting arrested or anything) and was in a "the kids are out of control and need to be reigned back in" mindset. When my dad pointed out that "the kids" in question were all in their mid-30s, it took some of the steam out of stepdad's sails. According to my dad, even my mom looked a little surprised when he said that. So, part of me is wondering if a good chunk of this whole thing is my mom not truly realizing that her kids were grown, and no longer children she could make demands of. Both of the moms have left us alone. I expected my mom to continue to kick up a fuss, but I think the cops spooked her.
There was a wonderful suggestion by a comment or to get their pastor involved, which I passed along to my dad. Dad has since spoken to their pastor about everything. He's a young guy, relatively new to their church, and joked that his first month on the job he had to do 3 funerals in a row and his new "flock" were just dying to get away from him, so he's got a sense of humor which is nice. The new pastor agreed to sit down with everyone and help the family hash it all out in a true "Come to Jesus" type moment next month, so that maybe we could celebrate Easter together as our first holiday as a family. Dad said the pastor was aware our family was having some troubles, but unsure of exactly what was going on, and since he was new, the pastor didn't want to pry. He has also agreed to do a small service down at my uncle's maple grove later in the summer, as it usually floods and is a muddy mess all spring. According to my dad, my aunt and uncle are so over all the drama and just ready to move on, so I expect hugs and apologies from them when we next meet.
Stardew Valley Update: My brother was victorious in the grand fight for Leah. It was a hard battle. Well fought. When my husband exposed his plans to woo Sebastian all this time, it was quite the betrayal. Dramatics aside, their farm is really cute and I'm so happy they're enjoying the game!  
Update 4/1 - Final one I think - April 1, 2024
Happy April Fools everyone! I hope you all check your caramel apples for stray onions before taking a bite! I also hope your Easter weekend was a delightful one.
It is with great joy that I tell you all about our most recent update! Possibly even a conclusion to this whole ordeal.
The entire family (aunt, uncle, moms, dads, brother, me, husband) and pastor met at my dad's house and we all sat down to hash the situation out. As expected from what my dad said, my aunt and uncle greeted us all with apologies and hugs, which was nice. My uncle usually helps host the Easter egg hunts with the church and he brought our Easter baskets to give to us in case us kids weren't sticking around the for the weekend. I'm not sure why but seeing it made me tear up and feel stupid, because it was just a basket of candy but it meant a lot to me for some reason.
The pastor led us in a prayer and talked about forgiveness and such. He then asked us all to talk one at a time about how we're feeling and what we want the end result of today to be. No one was allowed to interrupt so everyone got to talk. It was nice. The consensus for the group was that most everyone wanted things to go back to "normal". The only ones who had any variance off this was my mom and step dad. They both wanted all us kids to move back to the area.
The pastor asked them why they wanted us back, and neither could give a good reason other than "because family", and the pastor asked us if we were thriving where we were. And we said we were. He asked if we were happy there. Which we were. He then asked my mom and step dad if they wanted us to give up our happiness to make them happy.
And Mom broke down and said no. We all had a good cry. The pastor then asked about the funeral and lies that led up to it and followed it and how it made us all feel and what we wished we'd done differently if we had the chance. It was all very emotional, but in a good way, you know? Everyone apologized and admitted they f-ed up and did a really crappy thing.
We all talked for a long, long time and the pastor was a great mediator. Eventually we all reached some sort of resolution and I think we're good now. Emotions are still high and a little raw in areas, but we stayed for Easter weekend and had a nice time. We're going to keep moving forward slowly and try to repair the relationship, but I believe we're well and truly out of the woods.
As for my brother, he's still staying with us, and mom will stop trying to guilt trip him back home. He's thinking about renting a small apartment in our area but we're not pushing him to make a decision. He knows he's welcome to stay as long as he wants. I think he wants to try dating (he's had a few girlfriends but never anything serious) and is embarrassed to bring any girls around our place, lol. He's been going to a few random classes/bookclubs at the local library for something free to do and hitting it off with all the little old ladies who attend, and they keep trying to hook him up with girls his age who they know. He has been on a few lunches/coffee dates with a couple girls, but I think he's too embarrassed by the attention to give it a real try at "dating" any of them. He's happy, though, which is all I could ask for.
I'm not sure if there will be any more updates, as I think it's all be resolved about as much as it can be at the moment. I wanted to thank you all for your words of advice and giving me a place to vent and scream into the void. Please be kind to one another and to yourselves. Thank you.
Relevant Comments
emjkr: What a nice and hopeful update, I’m really glad you stuck to your guns when everyone threw sanity out the window!
But, could your mother explain how she thought this would work out in her favour?

OOP: I don't think mom thought too far ahead. I believe she assumed it would all just magically work out the way she wanted it to. She said she wasn't sure what she was expecting to happen (which I think was a lie, but I wasn't going to push it).

mak_zaddy: This was a great update! But ummmmmm no stardew valley update? What gives? Has Sebastian been woo’ed? How’s Leah? What’s happening?

OOP: Sebastian has indeed been wooed (and whoohooed) There's kids and cows and chickens. The two are still having a wonderful time at the game. They're working on completing the community center but it's slow going as they aren't trying to speedrun and just doing things as they want. I believe they're thinking about going into the desert mines once they complete that bundle, but they're both super chicken shit about it!

-my-cabbages: I don't really understand what you had to apologize for ... but I'm glad you're happy and the situation seems to be settling down

OOP: There wasn't much of an apology on my end, as everyone agreed I had done nothing wrong. Mine was more of a "I'm sorry you didn't feel as though I would listen." Type apology, which I don't really believe is a proper apology because apologies like that push the blame back on another. I mostly expressed my feelings and the shock of it all, and how betrayed I felt.  

----NEW UPDATE----

Small, happy update: May 7, 2024 (1 month later)
Things as wonderful as the moment. Still doing baby steps with The Moms. We're texting and talking on the phones more, which is nice. Very civil.
Dad "accidentally" bought a bunch of hand crafted bird feeders at a craft fair. By accidentally, I mean: he had a little too much fun in the beer tent, went for a stroll while step mom wasn't looking, and stumbled upon a guy's booth and bought "one of each". He wouldn't tell me how MANY "one of each" was, but he cackled like a witch when I asked. Step mom said she's forcing him to give a few to me, so I'm expecting a delivery or a Dad-visit any day now.
My brother is officially "going steady" with a girl. We've met her a few times and she seems like a real sweetheart. She's our age and has a little boy (5-6 years old, I haven't asked) from a previous relationship (The dad's not in the picture from what I can gather). She's the granddaughter of one of his Book Club members, so the old ladies made good match makers in the end. The relationship is still very new and I'm routing for them.
No new Stardew Valley updates. Work has been a little crazy lately and I haven't been able to play much of anything, and brother has been distracted by his new lady friend. So, husband finally started Baldur's Gate 3, and fell for Gale's "magic trick" so now those two are a thing. I expect him to be sufficiently distracted from reality for the next few weeks.
 

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

I have been struggling with meal prepping at the weekend, and because I work long hours during the week and end up eating ready meals or rubbish during the weekdays. But I have found this amazing Indian Curry Paste called Sobhna's in Woolworths and Farro Fresh stores that I can make so many different meals during the weekdays. It has everything I need to make a great curry, or add warmth to lasagne, soups and casseroles. I can literally have curry and rice on the table in 15 minutes. It's great. I needed to just share this with everyone because they have recipes on the website and you can get their E-Books with recipes for FREE using the codes from their jars. And they put up new recipes on their website Sobhna's and almost everyday a new recipe idea on their Facebook, Instagram and Tik Tok pages as well as hundreds of recipes on their YouTube channel.
I even use this paste to make coronation chicken, egg salad and potato salad. And it makes about 3-4 family meals per jar! I love the hot one but they do mild and medium too. It makes everything from Butter Chicken to Korma, Dal and so much more. I just had to share it with you - plus it's low sodium, keto and gluten free!
What are your favourite sauces or products that help you make meals quickly and easily during the weekday?

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.