How to cook ribs in the overn

Hello! Maybe a silly question from a novice but …
My wife and I rented a cabin for the week that has one of those park-style charcoal grills, the square type with no lid or way to seal the heat in.
I was wondering if it’s possible to cook a rack of spare pork ribs on it — or if you need to be able to close them in to cook them?
Also any tips on how to use that kind of grill in general are welcome. We’ve gone before and I’ve had pretty bad luck using it.

How do I make ribs in a crock pot to the absolutely minimal degree? I’ve only been cooking for like 3 weeks now and want to make stuff if it’s simple and easy. Could any of you give me a recipe and instructions on how to slow cooks ribs along with what ribs I should buy? I am looking for a recipe that doesn’t have a list of 20+ ingredients and directions. Thank you.

First/Previous
Satan was on the air, on the night, within everything in the long shadows cast by the setting sun and with him came a chill to the air that I could never hope to internalize; it might kill me.
From a rotted abode across the street, I watched the large outbuilding and the field in which we’d buried the hand and I found myself in prayer—among the torn and exposed studs of dry-rotted wood and rusted metal I caught my own whispers and forced myself to stop like I intended to convene with God right there in the dark; I wasn’t there for Allah. It was something else that compelled me there. I whispered the prayer and felt foolish at my own voice and ducked lowly among the rubble and held my breath to watch the sunlight go from the land and in a blink, the light was gone, and I was there in darkness that at first was a terror and then I slipped into it through blinks and the surroundings became clearer even in the dark.
Time went on.
I was exposed, but the yougins were safe—Trouble too. If nothing else mattered in the world, then they should go on without me. It had come to me so suddenly (maybe it was the prayer that withdrew such a sentimentality) that I liked them okay.
Before anything else, a cat’s hiss came so faintly that I plugged my ear with my pinky, shook it and listened again; the noise grew closer, and I could do nothing but watch the field and squint in the darkness and wait.
Fumbling, I counted the glass containers with touch only—two in my jacket pocket and the third by my feet—and my fingers then danced to the threadbare strap of the shotgun on my shoulder; I shed my pack for mobility.
The domineering creature lurched forcefully from the shadows and then went on display in the moonlight properly and its arched back protruded even over its own head till it lifted that muzzle, so its rattish face was cut out in a black outline; it was sniffing, and the hiss came through the air again. The Alukah kept a serpentine strut, smoothly gliding across the ground as it used its hands like forelegs to press its snout against the ground. In watching, I consciously relaxed my shoulders and refrained from biting my teeth together. That creature found the spot it had been searching for—it seemed roughly the place we’d buried the hand—and it took its claws there with bestial shovelfuls.
In a hurry, I gathered the jar I’d placed by my feet—it would not slide so gracefully into my jacket as the others—and as quietly as I could, I slinked around the rubble, through two studs, and onto the dirt. Within milliseconds, my own heartbeat pounded all over my body and I stood in the street and lit the Molotov cocktail with a lighter and took closer to the creature.
It shifted around and in that moment I wished I had a light source powerful enough to expose its body; I tossed the cocktail in a high arch and it exploded in a moment by the creature’s feet as it stood and pivoted to look at me fully; its solid white eyes were wide in a glance of moon-shine and it slung itself from the eruption of flames around its feet with violent speed. Its black hair hung down the sides of its face and its head parted midway to expose a snarl. It stalked in a circle around the concentration of flames, remaining mostly in the dark; the thing moved slowly nearer, those long arms swaying in front of itself with each step.
You should know better. It stopped midstride, coming no closer and we each stood there in the field roughly thirty feet from one another, and I refused to take my eyes from it. The boy’s mine. The flames began to flicker and die. For how long we stood like that, I couldn’t say, and I waited.
I couldn’t find a voice till it was all dark again, besides the moon and stars. “Why can’t you leave us be? There’s easier pickins.”
You offer yourself too much credit, Harlan. We remained in silence and in the darkness the creature may have been a statue—in a blink it seemed as much. You are a corpse, no? A walking corpse of a man! A terrible sickness is in you. I know it. I see it on you as plainly as I see your fear.
Rigidity took over my body and I puffed my chest out like it meant something and I shook my head, “I’m not afraid.”
Not of me, no. Of yourself? Something. The voice lingered with the ends of its words, drawing them out first guttural then it left them on hisses. Something I know.
I lit the next Molotov, and the creature didn’t move; I threw the bottle furiously and it went into the darkness like a far candleflame till it erupted in the spot the Alukah had been standing—the thing had leapt from there, leaving me unawares and I lowered myself to the ground in a crouch, swiveling my head around to catch the thing in the dark. The flames on the ground danced brightly, leaving me light-blinded.
Not again, said the thing, You will not catch me so easily with fire again. It was behind me, nearer the outbuilding and it took a moment through blinks for my eyesight to return well enough to see the grotesqueness of the misshapen massive humanoid thing.
The Molotov explosion burned then disappeared and we stood looking at one another again and I felt silly, foolish, radically unprepared, and overwhelmingly trivial in the grand scheme of the universe—if it wanted to, it could leap the distance between us and rip me to shreds. Why didn’t it kill me? Why wasn’t I dead?
That damnable night creature extended one of its massive forehands, flexing the digits on the end of its arm and whispered its words like a plea, The boy, Harlan. That is all. Take that brimstone smelly girl and carry that shell of a body—walk on to whatever hole you humans call home.
Hoping to not draw a movement from the creature, I pressed my forearm against my ribcage, feeling the last Molotov that was there in the inner pocket and I gently slid the strap from my shoulder, and held my shotgun in both hands, licking my dry lips, watching the dark frame of the Alukah, fearing even a moment of distraction; my eyes locked on the creature and I refused to speak.
No deal then. It wasn’t a question; its rattish snout offered a mild nod of understanding. You despise a good sense of words.
I readied the shotgun, legs spaced in proper formation—looking down the barrel, I held my breath and upon squeezing the trigger, the thing knocked into my shoulder, but the creature was gone. In scanning, I found the thing had moved from the field and bounded wildly across the street towards the dead ruins of Annapolis, its muscular limbs made short work of fleeing.
The outbuilding remained quiet and erectly tall, and I moved to its shadow and cussed whispers for wasting ammunition. Only three shells remained; worse, I’d wasted two of my explosives. I watched the horizon in the opposite direction of the crowded foundations of Annapolis and carefully held my breath in watching and I prayed again, hoping that the commotion would not draw attention.
An overwhelming sense of foolishness welled in my guts, and I trotted off towards the direction I’d watched the Alukah go, through the ramshackle streets haphazardly.
The darkness was maddeningly empty, so I filled it with shouts, “C’mon! This is your turf, ain’t it? This darkness is yours so come and take me if you can!” Rusty as I was, I held the shotgun like never before, squinting my eyes, keeping my pace in unison with my heartbeat. There’s a place in that darkness that is beyond reproach, beyond the comprehension of a city dweller, beyond even my own understanding and I found myself padding through those streets at an accelerated rate, hopeful to confront the demon and I only found more dead and vacant lots and I crossed more than two intersections where the signs were either gone or indecipherable in the black shadows cast there. I wished for a payback of the demon’s hunt or perhaps I wished for something even more than that—what did I need to prove and to who? “You sick and twisted and foul beast!” I went so loud I continued to hoarseness, “Slimy fuck!” I’s so mad that spit came with the words too.
Still, there was nothing and I came to a final crossroads, a place more commercial—at least for a flatland dead town—where brick storefronts half-stood on those four corners. Finding my voice again, I continued my tirade, cursing the demon, “Come get some—c’mon already! Here’s your fight?” I was scared though.
A sudden noise from the dilapidated storefront to my left startled me to pivot and watch, gun pulled up, and I focused as hard as I could on the recesses of that shadowed place; it was a large antiquated face where a window might have sat many years prior. Wet and hungry sounds emanated from that place, the disgusting noises of a fiend—even in knowing it, I was surprised in seeing the new creature spill out in a lumpish mess of slickened muscles, lubricated, its innumerable arms and legs clawed its own body forward so that it rolled like a mushy ball—each of those limbs remained human in nature. Upon the thing pulling itself onto the street, I staggered backwards, gun still raised, and watched its form take a modicum of understanding in the moonlight; its mouths—sporadically, illogically placed over its mass of a body—opened and seemed to try and speak with each one merely letting go of meekly audible, painful sighs in doing so. The eyes, spaced much the same as the mouths, blinked and rolled as if it was torture for the thing to live. The mutant was a tongue-like mass at its center, and it was almost the size of a horse—I’d seen fiends grow much larger, but this was still a great threat.
In moving away from where it spilled onto the street, I stumbled backwards and caught myself on the backfoot and clumsily spun into a sprint; my boots pounded in my flight from the thing, and it chased after.
Its mouths exhausted terrible sighs as it gained speed in the relative openness of the street and in seconds, I would not have been surprised if the thing snatched me by an ankle and devoured me without thought—not that fiends had any other thoughts above the basest urge to consume.
The pursuit kept me going in the dark, watching the still shadows of the dilapidated housing and I pushed on until I tasted copper; my breathing went raspy—it’d been so long since I’d been forced to run from such a creature in the open. I took a glance back and saw it coming, gaining speed in its perpetual roll; its body excreted some fluid across itself so that it could glide more easily.
Coming to a crossroads I’d passed earlier, or perhaps it was a new one—I couldn’t fathom in the dark—I took in the direction of what I thought was south and ran full throttle; my knees ached.
In hoping to confuse the mutant, I quickly dove towards the right side of the southbound street, towards some ramshackle, through the skeletal framing of a skinless house without a roof; I pushed through the pencil-narrow vertical beams and stumbled through, landing onto the unseen ground on the other side. My left leg spasmed and in the millisecond that it took for my nerves to register the pain, I let out a mild, “Oh.” I tried to lift myself from the spot and found that my left leg refused to bend straight; in total horror—more so from my body failing than the mutant—I swiveled my torso around and scooted on my rear across the ground, raking myself in the opposite direction of the fiend.
The mutant slammed into the frame; its many arms reached through the bars and in a moment, it began to use its hands to lift itself along the exposed wall and I scooted further away till my back met the bars of where an opposite wall would’ve gone. In a scramble, I snatched the shotgun, pushed myself sniff against the bars on my side and watched the thing down the barrel; I waited and concentrated on my own breathing. If nothing else worked, I still had that Molotov—if not for it then for me.
As it crested the top of the wall made of bars, I watched patiently and only when I was certain I fired.
The mutant, the great meatball-thing that it was, lost its grasp for a moment and slipped onto the arrangement of vertical bars; I gush of liquid, illuminated in starlight, shot from its base of its soft body; it began to try and catch its grasp on the bars and I took a moment for myself to examine my left knee—I pulled it as close to my face as I could manage which was hardly at all—some black triangular mass had lodged itself into my flesh; more accurately, I’d slammed myself onto something sharp in my panic to flee the fiend. In a second, not thinking of the repercussions, I gripped the thing with my left hand and clamped my mouth onto my right hand, biting into fat of my hand by the thumb. The debris was free from my leg, and I let it to fall to the ground; blood ran freely into my mouth and I let go of the bite and tentatively lifted the gun again, ignoring the pain; the creature continued to struggle, and I fired again. It slipped again, further impaling itself on the bars.
I had one shell left.
Using the place I’d propped my back, I pushed free from the ground and put all my weight onto my right leg, testing the left; I staggered—hopped really—around in the small square of ground surrounded by metal framing and searched the ground for something long. I unearthed the dirt around my feet and found a long piece of metal rod; setting the gun to the side, I lifted the metal rod over my head and then slowly arched it out from my body. It would give me just enough room to further injure the thing while also staying well out of its grasp.
I swung the makeshift weapon down like a bat or a sword and the fiend slid a little further down the bars, the exit wounds began to show across the top of its roundish body, and I smacked it again—its mouths spoke words that could nearly be understood. Though it took only moments, I was thoroughly exhausted by the time the creature had reached the ground again, good and dead and impaled upon six of those vertical bars. I tossed the weapon to the ground, lifted my gun, and shimmied through the bars on the opposite side of the square.
Adrenaline only lasts so long, and my left leg throbbed to the point of nausea; I did not want to inspect the wound, but on rounding the ramshackle and watching the still dead thing, I stumbled into the street and knelt and lifted my pant leg. It was dark and bloody and already it was burning. Infection was my first thought. A puncture wound could spell a terrible fate. I shifted to sit in the street. My leg didn’t bend right.
The cat’s hiss came from the darkness and there wasn’t a way I could respond in time; I felt those long nasty fingers grab me by the back of my neck and I was lifted immediately from the ground—the gun clattered to the ground and all I could do was initially freeze and stiffen and then my hands moved to the grasp which held me firmly by the throat; those massive knuckles were like stones.
The Alukah had me and situated me so that it could look into my face, its long black hair hid its eyes but I could smell its breath and see its teeth which rested in its round mouth. I could snap you. It seemed to nod its head, but to detect humanity in that damnable pale face was a mistake.
I choked.
What’s that? It relaxed its grasp on my throat.
“Do it.”
Why’re you crying? Its foot brushed against the gun at its feet, and it lifted it with its free hand, and it commented casually, Little human toy.
It moved, holding me by the throat, dragging me along the ground in an abnormal sluggish gait. It was hard to see anything but the night sky, anything but the strange angle of the demon—with its grip, it was hard to breathe, and tears indeed welled in my eyes, and I held to its forearm to distribute some of the weight of my own body away from my neck. With its tugging, I could not speak, but it spoke.
I’ll squeeze you dry, but your blood’s too tainted to drink. That won’t make it any less interesting. I’ll twist you like a rag and see which hole it comes from first. More than that, you’ll scream. You’ll scream so loud everyone will know. Everyone will know what I’ve done to you—once you’re no more than ruin. Not even Mephisto would balk at my handiwork once I’ve had my time with you. God will look on your sour corpse with so much disgust there won’t be a place for you anywhere. Only Oblivion, a place worse than any.
The creature moved us to the open field, tilted its head back and forth, rose its rattish face to the sky and snorted and then clearly sniffed, dropping the gun to its feet to brush the long black hair from its eyes; its muscular body shone in the moonlight so that even its bluish veins stood plainly from its white skin. It shifted its gaze to the outbuilding—maybe fifty yards away—where the youngins were hidden.
Deftly, the thing lifted me from where it had kept me by its side and my feet levitated over the air, I felt feet taller, suspended from that long arm the way I was. It took its free hand to my midsection and I felt the digits of its hand squeeze my ribs and it let go of my throat and I coughed and wheezed, placing my hands on its fingers to dig into that thing’s skin—it didn’t matter—in seconds, a scream escaped my rattling throat; it squeezed more and I felt the glass bottle in my jacket burst from the force then the Alukah gave relief and I tried to gulp air, but felt pangs along my body. My jacket was wetted from blood by the broken bottle shards entering my body or from the contents of the bottle or both.
Urine? It pulled me close to itself, sniffed, and shook its head. Oil? it cackled, Again! Beg for the help you do not deserve! It held me outright once more.
Again, the great hand constricted me and again I could not help but to let out a scream—my lungs were on fire, my voice stretched like a dying animal. I heard barks and saw nothing through wild choking tears. The grip softened.
I coughed more and tried to speak; the Alukah brought me close to itself as if to wait and listen to what I had to say. Weeping words fell out in a whisper, “Kill me. Do it. I don’t mind.”
Another sharp laugh exited the thing’s throat and it squeezed again, facing me out so that I could look at the black outline of the outbuilding. I heard the barking again and I saw the figures stumble out from the sidelong face of the outbuilding. I blinked to remove the tears.
A voice, neither mine nor the demon’s, shouted an attempt at authority, “Let him go!” It was Gemma. They rounded the building so that moonlight removed them from obscurity. Gemma held Trouble on a lead while Andrew followed.
Trouble growled.
The smile was audible through the Alukah’s voice, Strong words for one so dainty. I felt its grip tighten and I chuffed and couldn’t manage a word.
“Get it!” shouted Gemma; she let go of Trouble’s lead and the dog looked curiously at me and the demon where we were and tucked its tail and circled to hide behind the children.
The Alukah laughed. Scary dog.
I was lightheaded while my vision went; I should die—I’d bleed out there or some unknown medical oddity would shut me off. Perhaps I’d will myself to death. My head nodded tiredly, and I fought it, blinking, shaking my head to maintain my eyes.
“You want me?” The boy took a few steps forward and his voice cracked. “We could make a deal.”
The Alukah lowered me so that my feet skimmed the ground but shifted to keep a tight hold around only my throat. Oh?
“What are you doing?” shouted Gemma; she closed the space between herself and Andrew and shoved him.
He shoved her back. “Me for him,” he addressed the demon.
Is that the deal?
Everything in my body protested while I reached for the jean pocket on my right side; I could not reach it. I stretched and my ribs screamed in pain—it was worse than bruising. The demon did not notice me moving. Maybe because my movements were weak, subtle. I tried again while mentally asking God for help and I came short of the pocket. I cursed Him and then my shaking fingers found the pocket. I withdrew the lighter there.
“That’s right,” said Andrew.
“No, he won’t,” Gemma’s voice was aflame.
It’s not your deal to make, girly.
I took the lighter to my jacket, lit it, and the flames grew around me in a flash, feeding on the oil.
The Alukah hissed, attempted to unwrap its hand from around me while I dug into its forearm with two claws and bit onto the thing’s hand for extra purchase. It swung me around and my legs flew limply. It took every bit of strength I had.
Let go! The Alukah shrieked.
Trouble barked, the children screamed, and I bit deeper till that thick black blood filled my mouth. The flames were immaculate, cleansing, more furious than I could’ve imagined. Not for life—that’s not why I held on so strongly—it was for them, for Andrew and Gemma. Me and that creature should’ve burned together. Fitting.
Delirium took over and I swiveled overhead in the demon’s tantrum, holding onto that arm. The Alukah hissed, roared, shouted nasty epithets.
The gunshot rang out and I met ground, hard.
Exhaustion or death could’ve taken me then, but it was the former.
When consciousness came again, it was hands, smacking hands that brought me to life—then the vague smell of burnt hair, cooked flesh. My body stung and I could not move but to lift my face from the dirt where I lay belly-flat.
“You almost died,” said Gemma somewhere between hope and sorrow, “You almost killed yourself!” She shook me and shoved me hard enough so that I rolled on my back. She’d been crying, but surely, we’d won. What was there to cry for? If we’d lost, she wouldn’t be talking at all.
She left me and I stared at the sky through slits. The sun was coming but I couldn’t feel the warmth; I couldn’t feel anything (that would be a sweet memory in the time to come). It was quiet save the crackling I heard; it was like the lowness of a dying fire. It wasn’t me? I wasn’t on fire?
When she returned, she lifted my head to place my pack underneath it; it elevated my vision. I surveyed my surroundings. The outbuilding was there and the Alukah lay on the ground perhaps ten feet from me; its body charred and sizzled and caught little flames in response to the cresting sunrise; everything was a daze—we’d won.
Gemma’s eyes glittered, and she called the dog over and the dog sniffed my face and the girl’s lips remained flat, expressionless.
I saw the boy’s body—it lay motionless alongside the dead Alukah and alongside that body was my shotgun. The body’s head sat on its side, disconnected from its owner, facing away from where I lay.
“He killed it. He shot it.” Gemma sat beside me, and Trouble placed her snout on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re going to die,” she nodded.
First/Previous
Archive

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott
Episode 8: One Flu Over the Cuckoos
"Last time, on Total Drama Action! Imprisoned in a world they didn't create. Forced to ingest deadly foods, and even to taste them twice!"
"Nonetheless, the two courageous teams clawed their way to freedom! And... a lonely Chef made a new friend."
"But prison is no place for law abiding citizens. Even athletic ones. So at the end of the day, it was goodbye, Sky, hello... Izzy?" The camera panned back to show Chris lounging in the control tent. "Yeah. Izzy. That girl is eight shades of nutty. Will she drive everyone else crazy too?"
The scene flashed to a close-up of Chris standing in front of the cast trailers, the camera pulling back with each word of the show's title. "Find out now, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The scene faded in to a shot of an owl hooting on a tree branch at night until a few sparks erupted from it and its head popped off on a spring. The camera panned down and to the left, catching the castmates as they made their way back to their trailers; the Gaffers were in front, and the Grips were in the back, though Brick was noticeably absent.
“Everything is so much smaller than I remembered!” Izzy said while looking around.
"I can't believe that you guys eliminated Sky," Chase said as the camera focused on the Gaffers. "She would have continued to help carry us to victory if she was still here."
“I remember that bush! I remember that tree!” Izzy continued to observe her surroundings until she tripped onto the floor, only to get back up. “Oh, I remember that rock! Hey rock!”
“You know,” Scott spoke up, “with Sky gone and Izzy being back, it's like we didn't lose a player.”
“That may be because the teams are still evenly matched,” MK claimed.
"Good night everybody," Millie told the contestants in a tired tone as she took the steps up to the girls' trailer. "I really need to get some rest." She grabbed the door handle and habitually moved to open it, but it didn't budge and she slammed face-first into it.
"First they lock us in," Ripper said as the camera cut over to him pulling on the door handle of the guys' trailer, "and now they're locking us out!" He grunted as he kept trying to open it, but he failed to move it at all.
"Wait, wait," Izzy said from off-screen, "let me try it!" Ripper quickly stepped aside just as Izzy rammed the door and bounced off of it without making a dent.
A loud siren started up as tense music began to play in the background.
“Cops!!!” Izzy panicked soon after getting up and ducked out of the way.
Seconds later, an ambulance drove past, stopping in front of them just long enough for the back doors to open and a covered stretcher to fall out. Siren still blaring, the ambulance drove off and the castmates hesitantly approached its former cargo.
"What is that? A dead body?" Anne Maria asked nervously.
"Or an undead body," Ripper guessed.
Whatever was on the stretcher sat up, and the cover fell away to reveal Chris McLean lying on a colorful stack of books. The castmates gasped and murmured at the dazed-looking host. "...Boo!" the handsome man said suddenly, earning a blank look from MK.
The host then cleared his throat. "Calm yourselves. No one's dead yet," he said with a smile, holding up one of the books. "I'm here to prep you plucky ducks for our most awesome challenge yet! These textbooks hold the sum total of eight years of med school, and each one of you gets one," he explained before tossing the book in his hand to Anne Maria who raised an eyebrow once she caught it, "cause tomorrow, we're gonna play Doctor!" A few deep and tense notes played as Anne Maria rolled her eyes.
Confessional: Anne Maria
"I don't have anything against doctors," Anne Maria confessed. "It is their job to put scalpers and needles onto people, and give advice like “Don't break your leg because you were out late skateboarding,” but playing doctor isn't really in my wheelhouse.”
Confessional: Brick
"If I wanted to, I could be a doctor," Brick explained to the camera. "I've been to the doctor's office countless times because of my many injuries, like a twisted wrist, a joint thumb, bruised ribs, or even my leg getting bit by a dog." He shuddered. “Don't ask. But the military is my top priority.”
Confessionals End
"To win this challenge," Chris said as the footage cut back to him and the castmates, each of whom now held a textbook, "you're gonna want to memorize the entire contents of these textbooks. By morning."
"But it's already late," Millie protested.
"You got that right," Chris answered as a golf cart drove up with a giant pizza slice on the roof and a large stack of pizza boxes in the back. The driver was Chef, who had a pizza delivery hat on. As soon as the cart stopped, Chef got out and carried the comically large stack of pizzas over to Chase. "What med school all-nighter would be complete without pizza?" Chris asked.
Chase was shown dropping his textbook as he accepted the stack in awe, and a harp played in the background as he and Izzy gave it a sniff. He let out an approving sigh as Izzy smiled happily. "Pizza," the daredevil said.
"This has to be a trick," Millie said.
"More like method acting," Chris told them as he walked over to the golf cart and hopped onto the back. "Med school interns consume 850% more pizza than the average human. So, dig in! Cause there's plenty more where that came from!" The cart sputtered away, leaving the castmates by themselves.
Jasmine opened the top box and took out a slice. "Looks okay, smells okay," she said before finally taking a bite. "Tastes...great!"
"How is that even possible?" Anne Maria asked.
The scene flashed over to an unfinished pizza getting tossed into the air, the camera following it as it fell into Brick's hands. The table he was standing at already had four other pizzas on it, and they looked to be complete.
The camera panned right over to Chef with four cooked pizzas at his table as he held a can of parmesan. "Keep 'em comin'," Chef ordered. "I'll add the final cheesy touch," he said deviously while sprinkling the can on one of the pizzas.
"I'm pretty sure my team is going to question where I am," Brick complained.
"Not as long as they're eating, they won't!" Chef got up in Brick's face. "So hush up and spin that dough. Spin like the wind." As Chef went back to his station, the camera zoomed in on Brick's worried face.
The scene flashed to the five Gaffers sitting in chairs by a fire in front of the cast trailers, eating pizza and reading textbooks. The camera focused in on Izzy and Ripper, who were in the two leftmost seats.
"Y'know," Ripper said, "one time me and my brothers ordered ten boxes of pizza in order to see who can eat the most without using their hands." He chuckled. “You should've been there watching us splatter sauce on each other.”
“Let's pretend I was!” Izzy tossed away her book. “Here!” She sprung off her chair, landed next to the pizza box in front of the team, and began to scarf on the pizza without using her hands.
“My three brothers would be jealous to see you do this quicker than them,” Ripper commented.
Grabbing a pizza with her teeth, Izzy started to shake it around like a rabid animal, splattering sauce onto everybody.
“My hat!” MK exclaimed.
“My shirt!” Scott shouted.
“My pizza!” Chase cried out dramatically.
Confessional: Izzy
“I am so glad to be back,” Izzy said. “I was top of my pre-med class before the RCMP started chasing me, so this should be a snap! On the other hand, I'll tone down my impressions since it bothered Ripper the last time I was here, and he's my friend so I'll try to put his feelings into consideration.”
Confessional: Ripper
“It's amazing that Izzy is back in the game, and unlike the first time it happened, I'm around to witness it,” Ripper chimed. “She better not make us call her E-Scope though. That was really bugging me out.”
Confessionals End
The scene moved to the inside of the craft services tent, where four of the Killer Grips were studying at one of the tables. Millie and Anne Maria were on one side of the table, with Justin opposite them and Jasmine standing away from them.
Justin noticed Jasmine's unhappy expression and decided to go over and press the matter. “Is something wrong?” the eye candy asked.
Jasmine was startled by the question and regained her composure. “I'm completely fine. Nothing's bringing me down.”
“Just tell me. I don't blab about secrets,” Justin continued.
“If you must know, Brick's been spending less time with us lately,” Jasmine confessed. “Usually before the challenge, we never even see him.”
“I've noticed as well,” Justin nodded. “And this is bringing you down because?”
“Me and him have a special bond going, and it may lead into something more than that, but how are we supposed to know each other more if he's avoiding us?” Jasmine wondered.
“Brick'll probably explain what's going on to us, but don't badger him,” Justin advised. “It'll most likely cause him to lie.”
“That's a good idea. If there's one thing I do not like, it's when someone is lying to me,” Jasmine admitted.
“Interesting…” Justin mused to himself.
Confessional: Justin
“Jasmine's concern plus Brick's disappearances equals an opportunity for me to cause a little bit of turmoil between them,” Justin calculated. “That way, I could get one of them eliminated with Anne Maria and Millie's help.”
Confessional Ends
"Man, is this pizza delicious or what?" Anne Maria said as she took a bite out of the slice she was holding. "I wish Chef could cook more food like this for us every day."
Jasmine took a bite of her slice and saw Millie focused on reading rather than eating. "Are you not going to nibble at least one slice, Millie?"
Millie looked up from the book she'd been studying and blinked.
Confessional: Millie
"With the challenge that we're going to get, I have to focus on studying all the contexts of that textbook so I won't forget a single detail," Millie told the camera. "And plus, I'm not really a big fan of pizza."
Confessional Ends
A close-up of an open pizza box was shown as Justin reached in to grab one of the last remaining pieces. "If you don't want any pizza, then that means there's more for us," he said.
“Hold on. Brick hasn't had any,” Jasmine interrupted.
"Where is he anyway?" Anne Maria asked.
Brick then peeked out of the counter, and he ducked down, crawled under the table, and popped up in order to act like he just arrived. "Sorry I'm late. I had an urgent bathroom emergency," he said.
"Here's your pizza," Jasmine slid the open box to the end of the table.
Brick picked up a slice, took a bite, and smiled as he chewed it. "My cooking skills are great!"
"I'm stuffed," Anne Maria said as she stood up. "And with tomorrow being a reward challenge and all, I can just go back to my trailer. Good night!" She began to leave.
"I study better when I'm by myself. Nothing personal," Millie told the team and left the tent as well.
Confessional: Jasmine
"I could make them stay," Jasmine said in the make-up trailer, "but there's no point in doing so. Millie is already educated enough to not read the textbook, and Anne Maria is as tough as an untamed crocodile when it comes to talking with her."
Confessional Ends
The scene moved to Anne Maria and Millie as they walked through the film lot to get to their trailer.
"I thought you'd still be studying back at the tent," Anne Maria casted a suspicious look at her teammate. “Why are you following me?”
"I still want to read the textbook. I just want to do it someplace quiet," Millie replied. “What about you?”
“Like I said, I'm going to sleep,” Anne Maria said. “There's no need to give it my all if the challenge won't have an elimination.”
“You may be wrong about that. Chris is very unpredictable when it comes to episodes having eliminations or not,” Millie argued. “Did you at least read some pages of the textbook?”
“Yeah, and I don't want my head to be egg headed like yours is, brainiac,” Anne Maria claimed.
This got a glare from Millie. “Hey, just because I'm smart, doesn't mean I don't have any more depth to me,” the writer scolded.
“If all we're gonna do is argue, then let's keep to ourselves for the rest of the night,” Anne Maria rebutted.
“That's fine by me,” Millie agreed with the tanned girl.
The scene faded forward into a shot of the numbered studios the following day. The camera cut inside, showing the ten castmates lined up in a small room facing a double door, all but Millie and Anne Maria looking exhausted.
"So tired," Jasmine groaned.
"My brain has never been this full," Ripper mumbled.
"You guys should've turned in for the night like I did if you didn't wanna look like zombies," Anne Maria stated, making the others groan at her.
"Morning, competitors!" Chris said in a chipper tone as he slid in through the door. "Or should I say...DOCTORS!" He pulled out a large gun from behind his back, eliciting a gasp from the teens as he pointed it at them. He fired it at them starting with the Gaffers, and the camera focused on Izzy and Scott at the far end of the line as stethoscopes and reflector headband landed on them. Chase, MK, and Ripper were the next to get hit and MK fell to the ground after impact. Brick and Millie followed, then Anne Maria, Jasmine, and Justin.
"Ready for today's big challenge?" Chris asked them with a smile.
“We pulled an all-nighter studying for this," Scott grunted. "Why wouldn't we all be?"
"If only teenagers were as dedicated to their studies as you guys are!" Chris said with a light laugh. "Let's take it inside." He started backing into the room he'd come out of, the castmates following after him.
The camera cut to a close-up of a large compound stage light before zooming out to show the cast assembled in a large room, each team standing by a large green vat of bubbling slime, a ladder leading up to a high dive, and a sort of slanted platform with a person-shaped indent in it.
"Today's challenge is called," Chris said as the background music became low and tense, "Visiting Hours. And only one member of the winning team will get to enjoy the reward." A few drum beats played, and the camera panned over to the Grips on the left.
"Hold up," Anne Maria asked. "Why're we doing this in teams if only one of us gets to win?"
"I guess it's one for all and all for one this time," Jasmine said.
"But who gets to be the one?" Brick wondered aloud.
"Let's leave it to the one who contributes the most," Millie told them.
Confessional: Millie
"Which will likely be me," Millie added in the confessional trailer.
Confessional Ends
"So what is the reward, Chris?" Chase asked.
"You're very perceptive, Chase," Chris told him. "Let's see if that helps you and your team assemble a CADAVER!" A game show jingle played as he made the announcement.
"You're talking about a dead body, right?" Izzy asked.
"No," Chris corrected as the game show jingle played again, "I'm talking about a giant dead body!" The shot zoomed out further than it had before, revealing that the slanted platforms were attached to chains leading up to a reel in the ceiling and two strange devices on mounted either side just below.
"These tanks contain the dismembered parts of two identical cadavers," he explained over an elevator music-like tune. "Each player will climb their respective team ladder, strap on the bungee cord," the shot cut from his close-up to a bungee harness dangling in front of the Gaffers' diving board, "and jump into the tank with hopes of retrieving a body part." The camera panned down to the tank, then over to the slanted platform. "Any parts you find will be snapped in place on the platforms. Use those chains to raise them all the way to the roof," he continued as the camera followed the chain up to the strange device on either side of the gap in the ceiling as a jolt of electricity stream between them, "where they'll be reanimated by a blast of lightning!"
"First team to bring a Franken-Chris back to life wins," the host told them. "First crack goes to the team who can tell me how to treat someone with a bean stuck up their nose." He tapped his nose, and the camera panned over to the Gaffers.
MK was the first to open her mouth. "Administer two ccs of pain meds and probe the affected area with a sterile swab."
"Correctomundo!" Chris said, giving her a pair of finger pistols.
"Yes!" MK cheered.
The footage flashed forward to the AV girl on top of her team's diving board, the bungee harness already secured. She jumped off with a scream and plunged into the vat, popping back up a moment later as she was electrocuted by the electric eel she was now holding. She let the fish go at the peak of her trip back up, and grabbed on to the edge of the diving board. "What the heck was that?!" she asked in shock.
"Oh yeah," Chris said, "I forgot to mention the electric eels. Three zaps for each turn and you're out!"
With a hesitant look on her face, MK allowed herself to drop back into the vat. She emerged holding a grayish and slime-covered leg. "Got it!" she called as the camera cut to Ripper who was standing by the Gaffers' platform with his arms out to catch. He caught the limb, then turned around and fit it into place.
"Okay, next question!" Chris announced. "Your patient has an itchy red inflammation on their butt! Diagnosis?"
"Diaper rash," Brick spoke up first. "Apply salve repeatedly to achieve humectant dispersion."
"Yes!" Chris said, and Brick smiled.
The footage cut forward to him diving off the board and into the vat. He sprung back out holding an eel, and it shocked him. "Sorry!" he said before plunging back down. He came back up a second time, now holding two eels. "Sorry again!" he told them, falling once more after getting shocked. He popped out holding a hand, which he quickly tossed to his team.
"Don't let it touch my hair!" Justin fumbled with the hand a few times before tossing it over to Jasmine, who rolled her eyes and put it in the right-hand slot.
"Next question!" Chris said. "Your patient's got a white tongue, red eyes, and they're oozing gooey crud! Diagnosis?"
"If I'm not wrong, that should be Pinkus Eyeicus," Chase answered. "Treat with two rounds of floppity jibbits."
"Absolutely correct!" Chris told him. The camera zoomed in on him as he slyly added "I messed around with some of the terms in the textbook."
Chase looked down at the vat, then jumped. He fell without a sound, but when he came back up with an eel in each hand, he shrieked and got electrocuted. He plunged back down, and this time came up with another leg. "Hey, I got one this time!" he said with a smile before tossing the limb over to Scott.
Scott jumped for it, then turned around and slammed it into place.
"Smells like ear wax?" Chris asked next, rushing up to Jasmine with a grin on his face.
"Pineapple-itis," Jasmine answered before low-fiving the host.
Jasmine was shown jumping down, and sprung back up to diving board-level seconds later with three eels on her body; she screamed as she was shocked.
"Fur between the toes?" Chris asked, bending down to point at his bare feet, one of which had a tuft of brown hair growing out of it.
"Stick two horse feathers up the whizzbang!" Izzy answered when the host turned to her.
Izzy was shown dropping into the vat and coming back up with a torso and a smile on her face.
A montage of parts getting added was shown next. Millie was first, putting a leg into her team's platform. Second was Chase, slotting one of his team's arms in. Brick added a waist for the Grips, and the clips transitioned to other parts of the challenge.
"Waka-waka two-by-four!" Scott answered.
Anne Maria was shown listening to Chris's chest with her stethoscope before enthusiastically saying "Sissypants McGee!" to the host's brief approval and sudden discomfort.
Ripper was shown trying to strangle one of the eels as it shocked him, then Justin was shown being electrocuted thrice by the eels before eventually holding up a Chris head. He tossed it to Anne Maria, who was sitting on Jasmine's shoulders, and the two turned around to put the piece in – all they were missing now was the left arm and hand.
"The Grips ahead by...a head!" Chris announced, the camera cutting over to the Gaffers' platform and the five teens giving it nervous, annoyed, and uncertain looks – aside from the head, all they were missing was the right arm and hand.
"Alright Gaffers, next question!" the host said as he slid over to the other team. "Your patient's feeling tired, has spongy gums, and a bunch of spots on their thighs. Diagnosis?"
"Scurvy," Ripper said. "Treated with an increase of dietary vitamin C."
"Correct!" Chris announced excitedly.
The footage cut forward, focusing on the Gaffers' vat as Ripper dived into it. He emerged moments later with his team's hand, and threw it over to Izzy who quickly put it into place.
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm not sure if what we studied are actually real life symptoms and diagnoses, but who am I to know?” Ripper shrugged uncaringly. “I'm not one to study for this sort of stuff unless there's a million dollars on the line.”
Confessional Ends
Another skip forward showed Millie plunging into the vat and coming back out with the arm. "Alright, last piece coming your way!" she said excitedly before tossing it to her off-screen teammates.
It was Justin who caught the piece and put it into the only remaining indentation on the platform. "The Grips have their cadaver!" Chris announced in a close-up. "Time to start yanking some chain, and be quick about it 'cause the Gaffers are right behind you!"
Jasmine and Brick began to pull on their team's chain while Anne Maria moved the slanted scaffold out from under the platform and Justin and Millie watched in anticipation as the cadaver-containing platform was rising quickly.
The camera cut over to the Gaffers as Izzy dangled from the bungee harness covered in slime. “I got it! I got it!” She tossed the Chris head over to MK.
MK stopped in front of the platform and drew back her arm, tossing it up to Chase who had climbed the back of the platform in preparation. The daredevil caught it and slotted the part in, then dropped to the ground.
"Now we pull!" MK ordered as Chase joined Ripper and Scott at the chain.
"Heave!" Ripper said as the three started to pull in rhythm. "Ho! Heave!"
"The Gaffers are still in this," Chris told the camera in a close-up. "Whose cadaver will hit the roof first?" he asked with a shrug. "Make sure you come back for all the Total! Drama! Action!" he finished excitedly.
(Commercial Break)

I bought a JR back in January since I mainly cook for just my wife and I. We love it, perfect for a couple of burgers, spatchcock chicken, etc. I was torn between the Classic 2 or 3, and the BJ 2 or 3. I had been kicking myself since last year for missing that Amazon deal at 1am for the $600 Classic 3, but then again it looks like that was a crazy rare deal and who knows when it will happen again if it even will this year. I'd been keeping my eye out for a good deal and decided the Classic was more than enough for the small 8-10 person BBQs I like throwing, especially since I have the Jr for extra real estate and don't think I care about the Sloroller enough for how rarely I cook ribs (my wife doesn't like ribs... 😑 I know, but she's hot, plus she's amazing with absolutely everything else a husband could want in a wife, so we make it work lol). I made some low and slow baby backs in the JR and they tasted perfectly smokey on my first try. I'm not one to cook competition style or want a ton of smoke since my wife doesn't like super smokey flavor in food anyway. She does love the charcoal taste in burgers etc though!.
Anyway, long story shortish, I got a pretty good deal on a Classic 2 from a guy who bought and never used it. There was still packing foam in it. $700 flat. (He wanted 1k and I talked him down). I feel like that was a pretty damn good deal, I know there's been better deals but I didn't have to travel 8 hours round-trip to LA to snag a Home Depot clearance unit for the same price I had been looking at (plus I saw one in store and it looks like it had been left uncovered in the outside Sun for awhile, not to mention was covered in bird shit.)
So now I'm wondering what other accessories should I really look at? My brother bought me the griddle plate last month thinking I already had a Classic which also motivated me to try to scoop one up sooner rather than just wait for a tiny bit better deal. I'm considering the soap stone, sloroller (worth the hype? I've been leaning towards no), Joetissierie (worth it over spatchcock?), DoJoe (I make killer NY pizza with a pizza steal pro in the kitchen but would like to try the grill. I've heard the DoJoe is mainly for convenience and doesn't really make a big dif in the final product). I'd love your guys' opinion on which accessories I should invest in. Money isn't a big factor, but I appreciate a good deal and value in what I buy. It's more about value for me than what the dollar amount really is. I don't like wasting money.
The Kick Ash basket and upgraded chimney vent is a no-brainer. I got one of each for my JR and love them.
Thanks for reading.
TLDR: Got a Classic 2 brand new for $700, looking for accessory recommendations. Feels good to be in the official brotherhood of Fullsize Kamado Bros.
Note: I totally forgot! Last month my brother bought me a Karbon Steel Griddle for the Classic thinking I owned one already. So I have one that is brand new. Is it still worth getting a Soap Stone?

(Well, I couldn’t even finish writing those post because I received a text that my moms ct scan in the ER revealed her cancer is rapidly growing. Fuck cancer. Fuck all of this. She is dying. Why is there so much misery in the world.)
I'm working at a coffee shop next to an open window, the sun is on me, the breeze a comfort, familiar faces around, it is Friday - I am happy.
At the same time, we're getting texts from my stepdad that he's taking my mom to the ER because her pain is at a 10. This follows an earlier attempt this morning (for feeling lightheaded), in which my sister convinced her to stay home and rest. It was expected she wouldn't feel well today following treatment on Tuesday, a bladder stint replacement yesterday under general anesthesia , and barely eating for the last few days. Oh, the constant alternation of constipation and diarrhea.
We're creeping on a 4th diagnosis anniversary and this year has been the toughest yet. We aren't sure if she will see 2025. She is "healthy" aside from this fucking tumor growing, crowding out her organs and compressing nerves. My poor mother. Poor me and my sisters. Poor husband. Poor grandkids. Poor friends.
I've have always judged myself too harshly. "Should" used to rule my life. "How to be" has been difficult to grasp. I don't know why. But, a few years ago I got tired of myself and committed to growing up. Worked through childhood trauma. Built self esteem and confronted social fears. Exceeding career goals. I was feeling great.
Then someone ate soup made with a toxic bat and the world stopped. Thankfully, my friends and family stayed safe, but life got us in other ways. The cancer diagnosis, my grandmother (who lived a full life) declined suddenly the next spring. Her passing was proceeded by a fair share of suffering and family drama. Early winter brought the death of my father. Choked on a piece of pork rib. I'm sure he was proud of how he cooked it, too. My uncle ran out of luck against alcoholism a couple months after that. I didn't know a face could get so green. Or a body Or how much I didn't want to know how a body heaves up and down from a life support machine.

Hi everyone. I've been on carnivore on and off for most of the year. Started it last December but struggled to digest the high fat so added back in some carbs/fiber in v small amounts to make the transition easier. Im now pretty close to 100% strict. Doing it for autoimmune condition eczema because I don't want to use medication ever again. Has been great for that, put it pretty much fully into remission.
My digestion which has never been amazing, always had IBS type issues has been amazing. Now I can tolerate more and more fat have been ramping that up playing with different macros trying to see what I feel best on.
I have a pretty active life, play tennis and golf every week, walk alot and lift weights 5 days a week. Trying to bulk on carnivore is tricky and not using any dairy. Typical day of eating is.
Breakfast 6 pasture raised eggs and 125g of wild Atlantic smoked salmon.
Lunch 2*8 ounce Rib-eyes cooked in ghee and add butter after.
Dinner, same as lunch quite alot but a few times a week will have pork belly, chicken thighs, some wild caught fish and lamb, more lamb that the others cause it's a ruminant.
I don't feel the need to be stricter than this as my skin and digestion have been very good.
So to the issue. I got to a point of my energy being about the same as the previous whole food animal based diet I was on before, so the same with some fruit, honey and vegetables, that's all gone now. My energy was good then for the last 3 months but not 100%, maybe 90% I thought I'd gradually get better as the months went on but my energy has been getting worse the last month or so. I wake up feeling tired, I wake up a bit more during the night, maybe a cortisol issue and I don't feel mentally as sharp, the odd headache.
I don't think it's an electrolyte issue. I use pink Himalayan salt and Celtic sea salt quite literally and I'm way past the transition stage so didn't have bad keto flu type symptoms beforea when I cut out carbs completely
I'm not sure really where to go from here, I know everyone is different and I'm not finding the diet hard to stick to, I love how I'm eating and love the digestion and skin benefits and although I'm not dogmatic about the lifestyle, I think it's probably the closest to optimal for the average person but there is also diversity from person to person and maybe there's some small changes I can make to optimize it, so any advice would be appreciated.

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My 4 yo is enrolled in private daycare. We pay just under $1900 a month for full time daycare. Last year, in anticipation of Teacher Appreciation Week, we received lists of what each of her 4 teachers enjoy - favorite candies, snacks, gift cards, etc. I thought this was a little presumptuous, but understood they might want to provide a bit of gentle guidance for those who wanted to provide a gift. I would have thought to give a nice card and to bring a baked good. Ultimately, we did buy $25 gift cards to Chick-fil-A for each of her teachers.
THIS year, we were sent no less than 5 emails providing detailed instructions for a whole week of celebrating the school's teachers. Parents were asked the week before to write nice letters to each of the teachers telling them how much they mean to us - a submission form with a deadline was provided. (Can't I just hand him/her a stinkin' card?) For the actual week of, each day of the week had a theme - Monday - Letters for Teachers, Tuesday - Teacher Treats, etc...culminating in a parent-provided Teacher Luncheon on Friday. I was so put off by the whole ask I left the emails in my inbox and didn't revisit until the end of the week. Feeling a little guilty for not participating for most of the week, I opened the luncheon sign-up figuring I could bring a tray of subs or platter of cookies. I found that the sign-up requested VERY specific items - 4 platters of cooked shrimp with Old Bay seasoning, 5 trays of BBQ ribs, 5 Nothing Bundt Cakes. I am LIVID. I feel the school is asking too much and will likely handout nice notes and gift cards again this year. AITA?

Chapter One
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.
Prev
-Rooftop of the White Flame Factory-
Grigory smiled nervously at his men as they lounged on the rooftop patio. As the sun sank lower, he was happy to see them relax after the day's tensions. He’d wanted to give them their imps when they first arrived, or after the demonstration, but they seemed a little too skittish. Their reactions were causing him to doubt his strategy. If his most loyal supporters were repelled by them, wider acceptance was going to be a non-trivial hurdle. He’d been working on an improved version of the imps for months, but making them less threatening, or light forbid, ‘cute’, seemed deeply at odds with his plans. He hoped time might be the missing ingredient. Once they get a bit more familiar with them, they’ll come around. The imps were really nothing for them to fear.
The demonologist sat alone, observing how his men were dealing with the news. He was deep in thought, adjusting his plans and ruminating on his concerns. Was he forcing them to do things they weren’t comfortable with? The basis of his entire plan was that the whole world was to benefit from the imps, so it had to start somewhere, or he might as well give up. They seemed to be taking it as well as he could have hoped.
Catching a wisp of savoury smells, he thought it was scarcely fair to relax while Stanisk was busy in the kitchen. He rose to see if he could lend a hand with dinner. During their overland trek to the capital months ago, it was clear that Stanisk was a superlative cook, but Grigory was a dexterous helper. Much of what he knew about surgical techniques had been picked up preparing meals.
Grigory arrived at the great hall that served as the eating area. In the centre of the chamber, two long tables stretched across the room, capable of seating fifty, though only four simple chairs he had crafted a few weeks ago were present. His men had yet to grasp the potential of the imps' labour; instead of proper seating, they had improvised with crates and timbers haphazardly arranged around the tables. Near one table, a jute sack of potatoes lay abandoned on the floor, possibly mistaken for a makeshift seat. Grigory hoped they'd be eating the potatoes, not sitting on them.
Separated from the hall by a low half-wall, the kitchen bustled with activity. Stanisk sat on the thick timber counter, a casual sentinel over dinner’s preparations, while Jourgun and Klive stood nearby, deep in conversation with their commander.
Stanisk’s five imps, in their fancy clothes, dashed around the kitchen. Under his expert guidance they were preparing a grand feast. One was peeling potatoes, another stirred a great bubbling pot, while two were doing dishes.
“Sir, did you know that Stanisk’s imps have names? And fancy clothes! Can I have one like his?” Klive blurted when he saw his employer. “Uh, as it pleases milord, of course.”
“Plus mine bow when they bring us beers! They don't do that fresh out of hell!” Stanisk's toothy smile implied he might have been bowed at by imps a half dozen times already.
Grigory tilted his head and blinked for a second.
Surely a bit of clothes can’t have that much of an impact on their acceptance?
“Oh, Of course! Certainly!” he paused again. “Feel free to ask Stanisk for tips on how he made his.” Observing the bustling activity, “It looks like dinner is well in hand?” The kitchen was huge, far larger than the one at Planed Pine Peak Inn. A half dozen dishes simmered or baked, their aromas — exotic spices, rich gravies, and roasted meats filled the expansive space.
Stanisk replied without glancing away from the imps handling the tasks. “Well in hand, boss. Take ‘er easy tonight!” The imps' movements were quick and fluid, their antics distractingly comical at times. Grigory watched, smiling, as one imp hugged a yam to its chest that likely weighed more than it did, and made its way along the countertop from the vegetable sack to the cutting board. Each step was an exaggerated sway, the creature was badly top-heavy and teetering.
With effort he pulled his focus back, “Capital! I’ve a matter to attend to! Smells great already!”
Grigory went into the factory proper to whip up enough chairs for everyone. Simple wooden ones for now, but with cushions. Cushions were quick enough to make and he had a few cart loads of wool and woollen fabrics. He watched his imps work, glad he could share them with his whole team now. Obviously it made everything a bit riskier, but it was worth it. One of his concerns was that he’d been overlooking opportunities and uses. He was bound by only being able to think his own thoughts, so he was excited to see what non-demonologists would think of.
They carved and joined the pine chairs with their normal speed and accuracy, but watching them sew was its own reward. The imps wielded needles like longswords in their tiny hands, the points moving too fast to see clearly. They stacked up the plain cushions in a neat pile at the end of their low workbench.
He also didn’t have any utensils, placemats, serving spoons nor trivets either, since this was their first proper meal here. He commanded the imps to make those as well, and carry them like a row of ants from the workshop to the dining hall. The demonologist walked around the table, surveying his work. With a minor gesture of flame he lit the lamps, and frowned at the beige-grey of undyed wool of the chair cushions.
He pulled the chairs out, and one at a time enchanted the cushions to bright, cheerful colours. He was going to make them all company purple, but thought better of it. Enchanting colours was a fun spell to cast, because the act of changing its colour also unravelled enchantment as it went. Much like building and knocking over houses of cards, the end effect was a mundane unenchanted object, but in whatever colour he’d chosen. Having done the spell countless times for entire days to prepare for the midsummer tourney, he didn’t even have to check his notes for any of the hues.
Satisfied with his work, though slightly frustrated that his first and last red cushions weren’t quite the same shade, he sat down. He pulled a notebook out of his satchel and started making notes on his ideas for some improvements, mostly for his own use, but some to the things he’d be soon selling. Lost in his own world, he had no idea how much time had passed when Ros and Taritha joined him at the table.
“Good evening, milord,” Ros said deferentially.
The young herbalist elbowed him, “Come on, he had one rule! He was writing!”
“Oh! Terribly sorry, sir!” Ros stammered.
“Not at all, I was basically doodling. How’s your evening going, is everything to your liking?” Grigory closed his notebook and put it away.
“Amazing milord, These rooms are huge! They're bigger than some of the houses I was looking at!” Taritha said.
“Of course! No one wants to live in dingy cells! Glad to hear! It’s easy to make a place bigger when you are building fresh. Let me know if you find anything that needs fixing, our builders are still in town working on the harbour fortress now, but I can have them send someone if there is anything amiss!”
“I don’t reckon neither of us knew palaces this nice existed anywhere, milord!” Ros said with a shrug. “We might not be the best eyes for finding faults!”
“Heh! This is just the rustic first stage! Don’t worry about its crudeness for now, we’ll get there over time!” the demonologist promised, patting his satchel where the notebook of ideas was. His confidence was both unshakeable and unnecessary.
“Not to question your plans, but there are a lot more rooms than people. Are we expecting company? Are we hiring?” Taritha asked. Her eyebrows twitched slightly, having just questioned his plan for the first time.
“Big plans indeed! So that empty stretch east of the main building? That’s also part of our land grant. In a while we’ll be building a barracks there for our troops, while senior officers will stay in the main factory. That’s also why Stanisk will be taking a much more active role with civil defence. It’s central to our plan to secure the town, and by extension our own safety.”
“Our troops? Like us?” Jourgun asked, having joined them at the long table.
“Maybe? Probably not? We’ll see. The plan is to extensively recruit as we can afford it, since the pirate raid was just the beginning. We have something of incredible value, in the form of me, the imps and the factory itself. Many violent people feel they should possess every valuable thing, so we must be vigilant. Not to worry though! That’s just us planning for the worst. In reality, nothing like that will likely happen. Just by being well defended we’ll scare off the greedy.”
“Ah, like why it's dangerous for a beggar to wear a silk robe!” Rikad added as he joined them, along with a few others. The smells from the kitchen were intoxicatingly rich now, as Stanisk and Klive used the imps to finish and plate the meal.
“Just so, a lord can only have what he can defend, and because the first phases of my plan require a certain level of material wealth, I’ll need extensive defences,” Grigory explained as diplomatically as he could.
“The Empire itself will fear our might, milord!” Ros said excitedly.
“Nah, it won’t. That’s a dangerous thought. The Imperial army’s smallest deployable force is a legion, near enough to five thousand men. Even if we hit every hiring and training target, we’se not going to be in the business of fightin’ wars. Just enough to make us a spiky nut. The sort not worth chompin’,’” Stanisk called over from the kitchen.
“Oh,” Ros said, shrinking back into his seat.
“That’s more than all the men in the whole town!” Taritha lamented.
“Yeah, that’s why lil fishing villages don’t win wars. A legion is five thousand infantry with warships, supplies, siege cohorts, and command companies. If’n it’s a real fight, then they might deploy all ten Imperial legions. Then start raising more if’n they’re losing. We ain’t never gonna try to fight that. No nation in the world has ever picked that fight and won.”
To counter the grim tone settling over his celebratory dinner, Grigory chimed in with a reassuring smile, “We’re loyal Hyruxian subjects, and the legions protect us. We pay taxes in full, we’re on the right side of all this. We just want a bit of security against more, uh, regional actors. Besides, a large well equipped force lends our diplomacy weight we wouldn’t otherwise have.”
Now that the table was filling up and his men looked satisfied with his answers, he raised his voice to the kitchen, “How’s it going in there?”
“Good! I bought a deer from one of the hunters this morning, and it turned out just right!” Stanisk replied, personally putting the finishing touches on his creation. Aethlina moved across the kitchen to watch Stanisk work, making Grigory do a double take. He hadn’t realised she was even in the building.
“Oh! Capital! Everyone in the entire company is here now! Even better!” Grigory said, motioning Aethlina to sit by him. He was glad he’d made the full number of chairs!
Stanisk and Klive brought out plates heaped with slices of braised venison, steamed tubers and sautéed onions. Tubs of butter, bowls of gravy, and finally a heaping basket of fresh buns followed. Stanisk took his seat and, smiling with pride, “What’re you helpless kittens lookin’ at? Never seen dinner ‘afore? Dig in!”
The feast was a perfect end to a troubling day, and even though the conversation died down as they ate, Grigory observed every single one of his hirelings intently, relieved to see not a single one seemed put off by a meal made by demons. Catching Stanisk’s eye, he made an empty cup gesture.
“Imps! Bring us all some drinks! Wine, beer and water!” Stanisk shouted to his imps. With speed and efficiency, the little demons filled clay cups and brought everyone three drinks, exactly as ordered.
“Ah, dammit, I meant—It’s fine. Drink what you want and I’ll just dump the rest!” The chief of security’s good humour faded for an instant before returning twice as bright.
“No, I love having three drinks! And the water and beer are cold! In the summer! The gods themselves envy me!” Rikad declared.
“Uh oh! It looks like Mage Thippily made imps, but the imps made the real monster!” Kedril retorted, gesturing at Rikad holding three cups between his hands, rotating them to drink out of each, while spilling beer all over his own arm.
Their high spirits encouraged Grigory. He’d worried they would be morose and frightened tonight, after making them to live in what could be described as a hive of demons. Joking about the imps was beyond his expectations, so he smiled without speaking, sipping his red wine. Not his cherished Malaentian Red, but a nice varietal from the mainland he’d recently imported a few cases of. Once the plates were empty, Stanisk had the imps clear the table and start washing up while everyone remained seated at the long pine table, bellies full to bursting.
“That was spectacular Stanisk! Thank you!” Grigory offered, and everyone else chimed in a breath later.
“Nothing like a lifetime of bland ration bars for months to really spark an interest in what good food ought to be! I’m glad ya’se liked it,” the big veteran said dismissively.
“How is everyone finding their new accommodations? I know I don’t have all the furniture done just yet, but is everyone good for tonight?” Grigory asked, ever the eager host.
The men nodded and looked at each other. Complaining was frowned upon and nothing here was remotely a hardship.
“Capital! Glad to hear it, and by all means bring it to my attention if your needs are unmet!” Grigory sat still and everyone kept looking at him.
Now’s as good a time as any. It’s not even a surprise, I think I mentioned it a few times already.
“Ahem! So! I’d like to present each of you with your own imps! Some ground rules though; there may be people that aren’t ready for this style of magic, so I ask that you don’t mention anything about them anywhere outside of the factory. Or even imply there are any magical creatures, just that things get made here?”
He waited until they all at least nodded.
“Alright! Here you go, I have one for everyone! The imps are identical, so don’t worry about which ones you get. Um. Good luck?” With a shrug he reached down beside his chair and from a leather case he pulled a series of carved wooden boxes, and passed them out to everyone sitting at the table.
***
With a muted clatter, Taritha watched as the small dark boxes were distributed. She wasn’t sure if there was one for her, being fairly new to the company. She wasn’t sure how she felt; owning demons seemed like a big step, but the ancient urge to possess something nice or powerful was one she wasn’t immune to. Her heart leapt as a heavy box slid in front of her.
With trepidation, she touched it with one finger; it appeared to be regular wood, perhaps stained oak. The box was small and rectangular, quite thin, and she held it easily in one hand. It was narrow enough to fit comfortably between her thumb and fingers, its weight noticeable but not oppressive. She had expected dread, palpable evil, or something, but it just felt a bit heavy. Turning it over, she saw no visible clasps or hinges. The outside was covered in the flawless ornate carvings she was starting to grow familiar with. This time, the carvings depicted joyful industrial scenes—strong men swinging square hammers, smoke stacks, and laden ships and carts. The central image on each side was gilded with gold leaf, making it strikingly dignified.
Ignoring the excitement and increasing movement around her, she felt as if she were in her own universe. She slowly pulled on the lid, finding it opened on tiny hidden hinges, revealing three ebony totems inside. They were the size and shape of a fairytale wand, resting on a bed of lush green velvet, held in place by a broad ribbon tied in a perfect bow.
Even without considering the priceless nature of the artefacts, she was impressed, almost distracted, by the quality of the presentation. He didn’t have to go to such lengths; she’d expected them to be simply handed to her.
She slid one of the totems out without undoing the bow. It was cool and heavy but otherwise seemed normal. She could see layers of impossibly fine carving, this time gilded with silver. She could sense the potent magic in the object, but it felt strange. She’d examined other enchanted items before, and their enchantments were all transcendently beautiful in a complex and technical way. This was so dense it felt like nothing. Or perhaps everything? She wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t at all like the other objects. Stilling herself and trying to puzzle out its secrets brought her no closer to any revelation. She shook her head and resolved to investigate further in private. She returned the totem to its place in the box and gently closed it.
Only now did she notice the table was thick with imps, more than twenty darting and leaping energetically. Her colleagues had summoned theirs and were already giving orders.
“You two, throw the third imp as high as you can!”
“Merp!”
“All of you, cross the table as fast as you can, but walk on your hands!”
“Merp!”
“Duel with these forks!”
“Merp! Merp!”
The men were laughing and pointing between shouting out fresh orders. All the commands were pointless and frivolous, making Taritha powerfully uncomfortable. These were forces of nature, extraplanar beings of unimaginable power, and they were being made to sprint into empty mugs to see how far the mug would fly!?
She shot a questioning look to the master demonologist to gauge his reaction. He was smiling and complimenting their creativity, so maybe she was overreacting? Still, she had no interest in wasting them on silly games. Emergencies only. Or at least serious concerns only. Not for dodging knotted linen napkins, that’s for sure!
With the burden of responsibility successfully dodged, she was free to watch everyone else’s fun. The cacophony of excitement was so infectious that she found herself giggling and pointing at them racing as makeshift horses, with an imp bent over holding the tiny waist of the imp in front of him, while a third one sat atop as a rider. They were so silly looking and energetic.
“You’re sure this doesn’t hurt or anger them?” Taritha asked.
“Oh my no, it’s not like that at all. They have minds, but lack awareness, or awareness of their own mind I guess? It’s fine! They are just made out of the same stuff as demons, but not actually demonic.” The mage stood up and stretched. “They are remarkably durable, it’s unlikely anything short of silvered steel will harm them. I, on the other hand, am at risk of being badly over-tired already! I trust you will be okay, left on your own! I’ll see you in the morning!”
“I’se properly tired too, but if you want, let's pop into the factory and I’ll show you how to get them to make their own clothes. It’s just tellin’ ‘em to do that, so you’se might not need too much hand holding!” Stanisk pushed himself away from the long table, and motioned for them to follow him.
They went into the cavernous factory, just across the hallway. What was an impressive and huge room in the daylight was now an infinite blackness, like a starless night. A few men had grabbed leviathan-oil lamps off the table, and they huddled in a small circle of warm, safe light. They gathered around a long low table, and Stanisk laid out a few bolts of fabric. The fine weaves were familiar to Taritha; they were the same as those used in the clothes she’d been getting from the company.
“It’s simple enough,” Stanisk said as he put a heavy leather bag of tools on the table. “Just say what you want, with as much or as little detail, and they’ll just make that.”
“Imps, make a suit of legion plate armour, imp-sized, out of shoe leather!” Rikad said with glee.
“Merp!” replied several at once, as they began cutting and forming the leather without hesitation. The imps even used grey wool for the under-mail parts, and tiny flares of hellfire to warp the leather into the right shapes. Soon, a tiny suit of black armour lay on the table, looking like what an imperial heavy infantryman would wear, but distorted to the proportions of the gawky imps.
“I dub thee, Imperial commander, Real Imp. Don thy armour!” Rikad ordered. “Do they remember their names?” he asked over his shoulder to Stanisk.
“Oh yeah, they’re proper sharp!” he confirmed.
“Create an imp-sized lord's robe with a sash of office! When it is done, you shall be known as D’Imp Lomat! I might need a minute to think of the last one though…” Rikad said to everyone watching his imps.
Reluctantly, Taritha opened the box and invoked her three imps. She looked at them closely; as far as she could tell, they were perfectly interchangeable with every other imp.
Looking over the fabrics, she chose a striking blue, a deep red, and a golden yellow. “Imps! Make imp-sized sundresses, mainly white with these colours as a main theme. and matching coloured sun hats,” she added hastily. Their heads were distractingly inhuman, so covering them might help. She watched them work, even interrupting a few times to ask for embroidered details and minor adjustments. Once they finished, she had them don their new outfits.
Oh! The hems seem scandalously short on their long lanky legs! Better than before, but not by a lot.
“Imps, please put on the hats that match the colour of your dress.”
“Merp.”
Much better! They look like ladies now!
“You are now Lady Bluebird, Lady Crossbill, and…” She paused at the last one, thinking of songbirds that were as bright yellow as the fabric. “Miss Goldfinch!”
She leaned back and admired her little ladies. They were far less threatening now, and their dull crimson skin really made the dresses look extra vibrant.
“Dang Taritha, how did you make yours so pretty? I want some pretty ones!” Jourgun commented as he looked over.
“Drool over your own demons! These are mine!” she said playfully. There was an undercurrent of possessiveness that she didn’t expect, but these ones were hers now. “Anyways, I’m going to bed too, you guys are too slow! Have fun, boys!” she said as she devoked her imps. The new clothes fell to the work surface.
“Oh yeah, they don’t take that with ‘em, wherever they go, so just keep it in a lil bag or whatever,” Stanisk said when he saw her distress. “They gotta get dressed every time you invoke it,” he shrugged.
So much to learn today!
With a brave smile, she replaced the totems in the box and gathered the dresses and hats. “Mind if I take…” she said as she slowly lifted a lamp from near Rikad.
“Oh yeah, all yours,” he said dismissively, fully engrossed in examining the tiny lordly robes of D’Imp Lomat.
She went back to the hall, up the wide even stairs to the third floor. She’d only spent a bit of time investigating it earlier, as she and Ros had been anxious about being late for dinner. She saw the heap of her worldly possessions against the wall where she’d left them. The only furniture here was the bed, but by the sounds of it, getting some tables, chairs, and wardrobes would be easy enough tomorrow. She placed the totem box and the tiny outfits on the floor beside the bed.
The bed itself was unlike any she’d ever heard of. Crafted with thick pine beams and topped with a mattress of imported cotton, it was probably wider than her entire hovel. A family of five could sleep on it and barely touch. She couldn’t imagine a more lordly bed. Its refined look and the luxurious softness were worlds apart from the coarse fabric and straw she was used to. Sometimes in the fall, she’d add freshly fallen leaves to her straw mattress for extra comfort, but that was a fleeting pleasure. This bed, however, promised constant comfort. She eyed the pile of heavy blankets at the foot of the bed. Recently, she had bought a single blanket from the market, thin and scratchy, but these were the mage’s blankets—thick, plush, and impossibly soft.
She shut the heavy door and took off her tall boots. The floor felt smooth under her bare feet. Even having a floor was a new luxury; she was accustomed to hard-packed dirt floors like most everyone else. This wasn’t just a floor; it was a delicate herringbone pattern of different kinds of wood, obviously done by the agile imps. It was cleaner, smoother, and more level than any table she’d eaten off before the mage came to town.
She stopped admiring the floor and stripped to her shift. She felt exposed being so undressed around so many men. She reasoned it out—the iron and oak door was stronger than a hide flap, and this would doubtlessly be the safest sleep of her life. Just a reaction, not a reality. She left the lamp on the floor and got in bed.
With a panic, she yelped as the whole bed flowed underneath her, as if she’d stepped on the tail of a sleeping cat. She tried to get up but her feet were already off the floor, and she couldn’t find a stable purchase with her hands. She froze up to think her way out of it, and the bed stopped moving almost as soon as she did.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Was this an enchantment gone awry? Some bed demon?
Slowly, she log-rolled towards the edge of the bed, and the mattress under her also slowly moved, but not enough to stop her. Slow and steady, she might get free yet. Finally, she was close enough to put a foot down and stand. The bed flowed back to being perfectly flat.
She stood up, with a hand to her sternum, trying to catch her breath.
Think! What did the mage say about this today? It would magically adjust? Maybe that was all it was doing?
She leaned over and gently pushed down with a single fist. It was super pliable, then increasingly firm. But it felt unlike anything else—stacks of clothes or hides all felt different when they got pressed.
It must be magic. No time to be timid, and it would be humiliating to go to either the mage or the chief about this.
The only spell she could reliably cast was a gesture of Mana-Visualization. It caused the invisible lines of arcane energy to glow visibly, in bright colours that hinted at their use and purpose. She cast it to better examine her bed. It wasn’t enchanted as she expected; rather, hundreds and hundreds of things inside it were, and they linked and overlapped in ways she wouldn’t understand if she studied enchantments for a decade. She involuntarily took a step back from it, like finding a hundred warhorses inside a small cabinet.
She dismissed the gesture. With renewed determination, she slowly sat down on the bed. It shifted but only a bit. It was very soft and comfortable. Slowly, she turned and laid back, fighting her panic as the mattress kept shifting everywhere her body touched it, unnervingly lifelike. Fully laying down, she stopped and the mattress stopped. Even as her eyes were still wide with terror, she started to calm down. To test her theories, she rolled onto her side, and the mattress under her hip grew softer, and the part under her ribs grew firmer, until the pressure equalised. Rolling back, she felt it shift again, and once more the mattress's firmness changed all up and down her body, stopping once it was the same shape as her body’s pressure, resulting in sublime comfort.
Oh. This is incredible. I get it now!
She reached to the foot of the bed, pulled one of the soft blankets up to her chin, reached down to extinguish the lamp and drifted off into a better sleep than anyone in the history of her family ever had.
Prev

Cooking for a party for the first time on my new offset smoker. Its a Workhorse 1975, so I have plenty of capacity.
Going to do a couple briskets and a pork butt or two the day before and do a hot hold with a warming cabinet overnight so everything is ready to serve the next day.
I'd like to do some spare ribs as well, but I haven't found anything about how well ribs hold up to a 12+ hour hot hold.
I'd rather do everything in one cook the day before so I can concentrate on other prep the day of the party. Is there a way to do the ribs the day before, or should I just skip them?

As a university student (basically broke) i have found the difference in the cost between pork and beef to be absolutely unjustifiable.
Since I have started carnivore I have eaten beef only 2 times, one of which was a rib-eye and the other was a lean meat which was like eating rubber. The rib-eye was good but it was 10$ (converted from my national currency) for 300 grams and it was on sale! Basically 33$ for a kilogram ON SALE! The overall preparation was the same as i cook my pork steaks, fried. As I was ravenous I watched that juicy rib-eye cook and I finally had the opportunity to take a bite. It was nothing like people here glorify it to be. Yes, It had juice, i cooked it medium-rare, it had some crust on it but overall the taste was nothing significant. In fact I can generally say that pork IMO is a lot better than beef and a lot cheaper being only 4.5$ for a kilogram on sale (grass-fed beef is 733% more expensive!). Given the price difference and the literally no difference in taste (in fact it might be worse) I say that pork is a lot better for someone like me (broke). I understand that beef might have some micronutrients or be healthier overall but pork being red meat is still fulfilling your daily needs of micro- and macronutrients and is still generally a lot better than anything you eat otherwise such as junk food or processed meat or anything like that.
I can surely say that if we compare the huge price difference of 700%+, i just cannot find how can beef be even 200% healthier in order to justify the price being so high. I am from Eastern Europe if anyone wonders. I should add that the salaries here are way lower than your average American salary so keep in mind that affording to eat this type of beef everyday is not achievable by the most of the population.

Hello mold subreddit. First time reddit poster here. Thank you in advance for any insight you can offer to my case. In what follows, I'm going to first describe the health journey that led to my mold discoveries and questions, so please bear with me through the health stuff. I have included excessive detail in the hopes that my case might help others navigate possible mold problems.
If you don't feel like reading all the below, the tl:dr version: After struggling with unknown health issues for 15 months, I eventually linked my symptoms to my new home and subsequently discovered very high volatile organic chemical levels. I linked the VOCs to mold. I also had a mold inspection done, and the results are at the bottom of this post. The levels of mold were high in my kitchen and bathroom. However, oddly, the mold levels in the outside control group were much higher than inside. Can anyone help me understand how high my indoor mold levels are? Does anyone know whether the outdoor levels are reasonably normal? Is my specific blend of mold types implicated in neurological symptoms for others? And if anyone has dealt with mold before, do my possible mold symptoms described below seem similar to ones that you've had?
I bought my townhome in late 2022. Within four months, I started having new neurological symptoms. These symptoms started with a postural tremor in my left index finger and thumb. The same hand eventually began to appear smaller and shriveled, especially around my thumb. I also started having extremely frequent muscle twitches and jerks. These twitches take three general forms:

1. The most common is an odd sensation of something wiggling under my skin. These primarily happen in my face, around my mouth, my butt/legs, and ribs.
2. A pulsing regular beat in a muscle that lasts for several seconds and in some cases longer. These usually happen near joints, especially just above my elbows and knees. These are almost always visible to the naked eye.
3. A sensation of rapid vibrating underneath the skin that lasts briefly. These vibrations are usually not visible but you can feel them if you press a hand over the area.

The twitches and apparent change to my hand have lasted for 16 months. At this point, the tissue loss in my thumb is also apparent in my forearm and upper left arm. My leg on the same side arm appears different and feels as if it has lost some muscle. I also have frequent trembling with specific muscles when I flex them. For example, sometimes when I try to hold a smile my face muscles will shake or give out. My neck tissues are especially liable to shake and vibrate when flexed, such as when doing tasks like flossing where I need to hold my lips back. On a few separate occasions, I have felt slight paralysis on one side of my face for an evening or so that then mysteriously goes away.
Aside from these neurological symptoms, I also have had frequent hoarseness, sneezing, jaw pain, and headaches. My joints often feel like they are more bony and poppy, especially in my left knee and knuckles. In addition, I've had a lot of issues with one ear on the same side as the shriveled hand. The ear had an apparent infection or cloudiness 12 months ago that went away, it then had recurrent pulsatile tinnitus, and now it just occasionally hurts at random times. There have been many other symptoms.
I have seen two neurologists, an endocrinologist, an ear-nose-throat doctor, and an orthopedic doctor. I've had countless tests done including two electromyographies (EMGs) over my whole body several months apart, an MRI, and a lyme disease blood panel. Every test has been normal, although the orthopedic doctor suggested possible thoracic outlet syndrome. The neurologist said my nerves are quite robust. My borrelia blood panel came back negative, although as a side note I did have a tick bite in early 2022 that caused a rash. I was treated for Lyme with 10 days of doxycycline. The tick bite itself still occasionally flares up red and its timing might be correlated with my symptoms.
Back to the house-- I was on a two week vacation out of state and noticed my twitches go away. Then I saw my arm become more normal sized again and the veins start to come back. I didn't feel the same joint issues, had no hoarseness, lost the headaches. All the symptoms came back as soon as I returned home, but nevertheless after that vacation and subsequent extended trips, I was able to conclude with a reasonable level of confidence that these symptoms are linked to the house. I bought an air filter and an air quality monitor that shows volatile organic chemicals, PM, formaldehyde, and C02.
Using the air quality monitor, I discovered that volatile organic chemicals (VOCs) and formaldehyde were usually abnormally high and sometimes extremely high. VOCs are usually above safety thresholds at >0.5 mg/m3 and formaldehyde >0.1 mg/m3. Sometimes, the VOC levels will stay consistently above 1.8mg/m3. I witnessed them reach a peak level of 5mg/3 in one bedroom late at night when I was woken up by a feeling of shortness of breath. I tried but failed to correlate these high VOCs to electronics, chemical sources in the home, cooking sources, heaters, and cleaning supplies. The way the VOCs would spike all over the house for no apparent reason in the evening helped me rule out some of these other possibilities. I also actively removed other sources.
Eventually, I realized that the VOCs were likely caused by mold, so-called microbial VOCs. The formaldehyde could also be explained by mold. The levels of VOCs would spike on rainy days, when the humidity was high inside, and in the evening. I don't think any other chemical source near the house would display this pattern. It took me a while to reach this conclusion because the mold issue in my house isn't too obvious. The house has always had a slight musty smell, especially if the air is stagnant for a while. The bathroom also has recurring mold growth on a tiles, in the shower, and on the various shower liners. A couple cabinets in the kitchen have always smelled musty. I didn't think these obvious signs of mold growth were that big of a deal, but given the extremely high levels of VOCs I now believe the mold has always been the issue.
Once I realized it was likely mold, I started noticing all the signs. The house is about 100 years old. The prior two owners of this house each moved out within five months. The house is not ventilated except from windows. It sits in a damp area near where water puddles up in the yard. It's mostly solid brick, so the house frame has a way of trapping hot air and releasing a lot of moisture onto the floors each evening. There's also a cheap layer of vinyl flooring throughout that could easily cover up a massive mold problem underneath. Finally, the townhome sits on top of an old shared crawl space that was used as a furnace. It has had known water puddling issues for which reason a vapor guard was installed underneath my first floor.
So, I had a mold inspection done. The results are at the bottom of this post. The bathroom results might be diluted because I left the window open the night before. Nevertheless, both my kitchen and bathroom had mold detected at levels between 6480 - 12,300 spores/m3. Oddly, the outdoor levels of all of the molds were often much higher, 3-6 fold higher than the levels indoors. It was a humid day, but it still seems odd for me that an outdoor space could have higher levels than indoors.
On later reading about my specific mold spores and neurological symptoms, I noticed that the two most elevated groups of spores in my house, ascospores and basidiospores, are the same class as all of the funguses known to have colonized the nervous system of ALS patients according to this published article. Those specific types of fungus found in the nerves of ALS patients are Candida, Malassezia, Fusarium, Botrytis, Trichoderma, and Cryptococcus. It naturally led me to wonder if my chronic als-type neurological symptoms could be caused by some latent fungal infection in my body that gradually improves when I'm away from the home.
Wrapping up this thread, I have a bunch of questions.

• Does anyone have the same kinds of molds (see below) in their home and have the ability to speak to how problematic my levels are from their own experience?
• Why would the outdoor control be so high? I do compost and garden, but all of the compost is buried underground.
• Is my specific blend of mold types implicated in neurological symptoms?
• Do my symptoms seem similar to mold-related symptoms that you might have had? I'm trying to figure out if mold is a likely culprit or if I should keep seeking help for possible tickborne illness or other issues.
• Should my mold levels be a cause to stay away from this house as much as possible? Should I ever return?
• Do I need to throw away all my belongings like books clothes and sheets?
• Would a very high quality HEPA air purifier make any difference?
• Is there some kind of public health representative that could help me navigate this or a type of mold doctor who could help me investigate the causes of my symptoms and seek the right kinds of medication?
• Do you have any other advice for someone in my situation?

My mold inspection results

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A knock came at the door while Saphira was washing her hands in the basin.
“One moment!” she cried as she dried her hands on a nearby towel. She brushed her palms against her apron and made for the front door. Two familiar faces greeted her on the other side. “Espada! Goose! Come on in!”
Espada offered a curt nod and procured a bottle of dark wine from behind her back. “I know you’re avoiding the stuff, but Goose and I want to have a couple of glasses if you don’t mind.”
Saphira shook her head. “Not at all!”
“Thank you, thank you,” Goose sang as she skipped into Saphira’s home.
Saphira shut the door once they were all inside, then briskly returned to the kitchen, where two pots of stew cooked over her stove. She grabbed a mitten and cupped it over the knob beneath the pot, and pulled open the door. The fire was still going strong, so she nodded and shut it before setting the mitten back to the side.
“It smells delicious,” Espada said, taking a seat on the sofa.
“Thank you. It’s an old recipe of my grandmother’s. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure it’s amazing.”
Saphira swung open a cabinet above her and plucked two glasses from within, holding them upside down with one hand. Years spent farming meant she had practiced hands, and she took great pride in her ability to accommodate friends and family. Grabbing a wine opener from a nearby drawer, thoughts of the last time she’d shared a glass with Matt pricked her tail. She strolled over to where Espada and Goose were sitting, cheerily humming as she gestured for the bottle of wine in Espada’s hand.
“It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been here,” Espada commented, surrendering the bottle. “Keepin’ busy?”
“Every day is busy,” Saphira giggled as she set the glasses down. “Not that I mind it. I have excellent company.” She gestured to the crib against the back wall that Espada and Goose had built. Marie was happily playing with a few blocks that Goose had as a kitten. It baffled Saphira that Marie could already walk. Not that Marie could walk well just yet, but the fact that she’d picked it up so quickly and easily had Saphira wondering if she’d learned anything that early. “What about you?”
“Things are quiet lately, what with Matt and his Party gone. Demand for weapons and armor is low without ‘em. So I’ve been working the irrigation and home repairs lately.” Espada shrugged.
“Where’s Tabitha?” Saphira asked. Tabitha was a rambunctious woman, obsessed with dirt and everything beneath it. She had her heart set on being the one responsible for Junonia’s irrigation, and she worked as the village’s carpenter in her off time.
“We’re not sure, but she did mention checking out the other towns on Ni Island. Maybe she just got tired of this place.” Goose shrugged.
“It feels strange to take up her post,” Espada continued. “Not exactly my field of expertise. But it’s a living, and it’s oddly satisfying work. Besides, Goose is makin’ sure I don’t lose my touch.”
Saphira uncorked the bottle and set the opener to the side, blinking. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re looking at a [Fighter],” Goose said with a toothy grin. “Been hearing all about Matt and his Party from Espada and the other girls, so I thought I’d make my own waves out there.” She emphasized the point by imitating an ocean’s current with her hands.
Saphira smiled. Ni Island wasn’t known for its plethora of adventurers. Most of them ended up calling it quits before Second Class—choosing quieter lives in tending to children, farming, cooking, or living off the land. She couldn’t think of the last time she heard of someone leaving Junonia. Well, except for Matt and his group. “Are you thinking of exploring outside the island?”
Goose shook her head. “Not yet. I’m thinking of hunting some small-time Encroachers for a few Bells. Espada’s been helping me.” She nudged Espada playfully.
Espada chuckled. “She has a good sword arm, so I’ve been teaching her in my off time.”
“Espada, you’re the best I’ve ever seen! You must’ve trained on Nyarlothep,” Goose said.
“Something like that.” Espada had always been tight-lipped about where she came from before she settled on Ni Island. Whenever she was asked, she’d shake her head and change the subject. If anyone pushed too hard, then she’d suggest they go on their way.
Saphira didn’t mind it so much, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. Still, it wasn’t her place. She offered her own change of topic as she began to fill Espada and Goose’s glasses. “That’s so exciting, Goose!”
“It feels so good to train and Level. Don’t you think, Saphira?” Goose asked, leaning forward with eager eyes. She watched Saphira pour the wine, gripping the glass’ neck using her first two fingers and her thumb.
Saphira could hardly remember how long she’d dabbled in her Class after her choosing. Every catgirl selected a Class when they came of age, but it was a distant memory to her now. “A-ah… I admittedly don’t remember much.” She giggled and poured Espada’s drink next. “I know that I selected [Scout], though.”
“Huh. I would’ve figured you for a [Chemist] or a [Mage],” Goose said.
“I’d heard from Keke that [Scout]s were good at finding Encroacher parts, so I figured that I might become a leatherworker at some point,” Saphira said. She shook her head. “I’m not one for combat, though. I only ever reached Level 2.”
Goose nodded as she swirled her glass. “That’s our Saphira. Pure to the core.”
Saphira flushed and curled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Hardly.”
“You could charm the evil out of the Defiled,” Espada laughed before draining nearly half her glass.
Saphira wondered if Espada knew that wine was a bit different than ale. “That’s kind of you to say.” She could feel her cheeks growing hotter by the second. “I’m going to finish up dinner.”
By the time the food was ready to be served, Espada and Goose were laughing up a storm. Saphira set three hearty plates on the table, then strolled over to her daughter’s crib. Marie cooed and reached for Saphira’s finger, gripping it tight so as not to fall over.
“You’re so smart!” Saphira said in a high-pitched timbre. “It’s time for dinner!” She reached down and picked Marie up, cradling her in her arms as she approached the table in the living room. It was perfect for the occasion. She’d tried to share dinner with her daughter at the dinner table, but it had proven difficult with its height.
“Thank you for the meal,” Espada said with a nod. She’d finished her wine before dinner and didn’t seem any worse for wear. The same amount would’ve seen Saphira sleeping on the floor within minutes.
“Yeah, thanks!” Goose said.
“You’re welcome,” Saphira smiled as she took a seat across from Espada and Goose. Bouncing Marie on her knee, she plucked a fork from the table, skewered the steamed meozuna greens, and hovered the vegetable over Marie’s head. “Oh, look what I got you!” The kitten batted the air for her mother’s food, grabbing hold of Saphira’s wrist after the third attempt. Marie guided the fork to her mouth, nibbling on the soft veggie, and her tiny ears perked straight up. “Oh, what a good girl! Mommy’s little kitten is so smart!”
Goose and Espada watched with smiles on their faces as they picked at their food. Saphira continued to spoon and fork her food, sharing every other bite with Marie. To her relief, Marie was not a picky eater—Saphira’s mother had always liked to tease her about how fussy she was as a kitten.
“I can’t believe how fast she’s growing,” Goose commented while she wiped at her mouth with a handkerchief.
“I know, isn’t she beautiful?” Saphira glowed. “I love her with all of my heart and soul.” She and Marie touched foreheads, eliciting an excited coo from the kitten.
“It’s still so weird to me that Matt left,” Goose continued. “He’s such a…unique man.”
That was the perfect word for Matt. Saphira had never heard of a man traveling the other islands so quickly, nor had she ever heard of one working with the neighboring islands. It wasn’t unheard of, but she pined for Matt’s smile, his laugh, and his embrace. His presence brought so much hope and life to Junonia, and his absence was sorely felt.
Every day spent without him was another day Saphira spent worrying for his safety. As strong as he was, she feared that his kindness and consideration could bring him harm.
I hope you’re okay, Matt.
Espada snorted. “I can think of a few other words for him.”
Saphira guided another spoonful of potatoes into Marie’s mouth. “What do you mean?”
“We got off to a rough start.” She pushed her empty plate forward and leaned back against the sofa. “I was already pis—” She hesitated, glanced at Marie, then coughed into her fist. “I was in a bad mood that day. So I told him off when he tried to barter.”
Saphira gasped. “Espada!”
In a rare moment, Espada looked uncomfortable. “I work hard on my craft, and I wasn’t about to let him take advantage of me just because he was a man.”
“But they’re here to protect us.”
“I get that,” Espada said, her tone lowering, “I’ve just seen others who flaunt their influence, and I’m not okay with that.”
“I hope you apologized later.”
Espada blinked. “Sure. Yeah, I did.”
Saphira wasn’t quite sure if Espada was telling the truth, but she decided not to pry. “Well, it sounds like you’re on good terms now, then.”
Espada shrugged. “I think so. I gave him a few pointers when I had time.”
“You mean when it was convenient,” Goose jabbed Espada between the ribs playfully. “I know what those words really mean.”
Espada shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.”
Marie grabbed one of Saphira’s bangs and pulled her closer. “Aauuooo?”
“Sweetie, you’re hurting Mommy,” Saphira said as she unhooked her daughter’s hand from her hair. She giggled and used her free hand to fix her hair. “You know, I’ve always wondered, Espada.”
“Hm?”
“What brought you to Ni Island? You know so much about weapons and armor, and you learn things so much faster than I would.” She tilted her head inquisitively. “Where did you learn?”
Espada didn’t answer immediately. “I used to work in Nyarlothep as a smith.”
“I knew it!” Goose cried.
A warning glance escaped the corner of Espada’s eyes. Goose quieted, and she continued, “I got tired of my work there and decided to come here instead.”
“A fresh start?”
“You could say that,” she said quickly. Her tone was flat and snappy. “I guess I just got tired of the politics and making weapons and armor for those who didn’t deserve them.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to come to Ni Island,” Saphira smiled. This was a sensitive topic for Espada, that much she could tell. It was time to let the matter drop. What did it matter, anyway? “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Espada’s easy smile returned. “Thanks.”
The room was warm and comforting. As the conversation continued, Saphira eventually let Marie walk around under the condition that Goose sat on the floor with her. It was much easier to keep an eye on a curious kitten with multiple people. The three of them played with Marie, and when it was her bedtime, Saphira placed her daughter back in her crib and kissed her forehead.
“Thank you again for dinner,” Espada said. “It’s been a while since I had such a nice home-cooked meal.”
“You’re so welcome!” Saphira clapped her hands together. “We should do this again sometime.”
“I agree! Maybe next time I’ll bring the meat,” Goose said. “Fresh kill and all that.”
“As long as I don’t have to, well, prepare it.” Saphira swallowed hard. She couldn’t imagine being the one responsible for skinning and bisecting an Encroacher for food. She always left that to the butchers.
“Don’t worry. I could never ask you to do that.”
“Then it’s a plan!”
Espada and Goose waved their farewells, and Saphira shut the door behind them, leaning against its surface when they were gone. The room was quiet now, with only the crackling of the hearth and her daughter’s snores to keep her company. For a few moments, she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. She had the family she always dreamed of. Marie was every bit the blessing from Saoirse she imagined.
But the longer she stared, the longer she listened, the more empty the room started to feel. Her hands clenched into fists behind her, and her longing for Marie’s father heightened.
I wish you could see your daughter right now, Matt.
Espada Pro Tip: It was good to see you, Saphira. Don't be a stranger, okay? Let me know if your tools need maintenance.
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(As always, flyers are out Wednesdays, most store sales for the new flyer start on Thursdays)
Adonis

• Crab section (thawed) - $7.77 per lb -- Interesting! Could be fun for making neat meals!
• Coho salmon fillet - $7.77 per lb -- Wow! That's a great price for salmon!
• Sea bass (fresh, free cleaning) - $7.99 per lb -- Fair price for fresh fish.
• Basa filet (thawed) - $4.99 per lb -- Nice! It's not fresh filet, but it's a good price,.
• Chicken thighs (boneless skinless) - $5.99 per lb -- Not amazing, but ok for boneless chicken.
• Grain-fed veal blade roast - $5.99 per lb -- Interesting! It's a more tender cut, more delicate flavour, which might be nice!
• Beef eye of round - $6.99 per lb -- Good and fair price for eye of round. It's possible to find it for less, but it's a hunt. This is a regular Adonis deal.
• Rib-eye steak - $17.99 per lb -- Makes me think of a post I saw this week of a standard prime rib roast in Calgary sold at $55/kg, 27/lb or something. Which is crazy!
• Red greenhouse tomatoes - $0.99 per lb -- Awesome! Great price for tomatoes, but I found the other produce prices advertised were a little lackluster.
• Apricots (fresh) - $4.99 per lb -- Low-ish price for fresh apricots.
• Brick cheese (Cracker Barrel) - $5.77 400g bar -- Not under $5, but still worth snagging a bar if it means skipping a trip elsewhere.
• Cheese Counter - Canadian feta - $1.99 per 100g -- Nice! $2/100g for feta is good.
• Cheese Counter - Tuma - $2.29 per 100g -- Interesting! "Tuma cheese is renowned for its delicate mild milk flavour, and its smooth, velvety and firm texture."
• Cheese Counter - Akawi - $2.29 per 100g -- Ahh, this is a lovely cheese. Not cheap, but it's good stuff!
• Cheese Counter - Fior de latte - $2.29 per 100g -- Good price. This is the stuff you need for a Caprese salad!
• Pâté (Bretagne) - $5.00 for 2 150g packs -- Great price! These regularly go for $4 or so.
• Deli - Chicken breast (Solmaz) - $1.79 per 100g -- Nice!
• Deli - Smoked ham (Olymel) - $1.49 per 100g -- Excellent!
• Deli - Turkey breast (Alzahraa) - $1.49 per 100g -- More great deli!
• Deli - Prosciutto (Negroni) - $2.79 per 100g -- Ah! Nice! Different brand, same great prosciutto price!
• Walnuts and mixed nuts (Cedar) - $4.99 454g bag -- Nice! That's cheap!
• Almonds (Cedar) - $5.99 454g bag -- Good price for almonds!
• Pistachios (roasted, salted, Cedar) - $12.99 454g bag -- Pistachio prices are a little funny. $10/lb is really the price to aim for, but this isn't far off. And it's not uncommon to see 200-250g bags for $7-8 or more.
• Produce Price Rating: Medium, but always has well-priced chicken, the deli meat sale rotations are always fantastic, and just the overall variety of goods is refreshing. Personal favourite store.

Farm Boy

• Chicken breast (boneless skinless) - $5.99 per lb -- Fair price for chicken breast.
• Wild-caught Argentinian shrimp (23-30ct) - $7.99 340g bag -- This is a good rate on decent shrimp!
• Fresh sausage deal - $5.99 500g packs -- Nice little sausage deal here. Fresh sausage avoids the preservatives!
• Mini cucumbers - $5.00 for 2 6-packs -- Good price for mini cucumber.
• Fiddleheads (fresh daily) - $5.99 per lb -- Neat! These are fun to see on the shelf. Try a fun seasonal item!
• Hothouse tomatoes - $1.49 per lb -- Good price for tomatoes!
• Eggplant - $1.49 per lb -- Great price for eggplant! Often $2/lb or more!
• Zucchini - $1.49 per lb -- Good price zucch! You can find them for less, but you'll have to hunt for it.
• Green onion - $0.77 per bunch -- Nice! It's crazy to be happy about green onions for under $1…
• Blueberries - $2.99 full pint -- Ad is for 473g pints. This is a great deal! Worth snagging some!
• Produce Price Rating: High

Farmers Pick (can be a little late on their flyer) (https://www.farmerspick.ca/flyer-specials)
Food Basics

• Ground chicken (lean, Zabiha) - $3.88 450g pack -- Great price for ground chicken!
• Pork side rib - $2.98 per lb -- Good price for pork rib!
• Pork tenderloin - $2.98 per lb -- Great price for tenderloin. More often found for $4/lb.
• Fresh beef burger patties - $4.00 4-pack -- These are 1/4lb patties, meaning we're clocking in at $4/lb, which is honestly pretty good! Season them up and grill! There's also Selection 8-pack of buns on sale for 1.77. So, that's basically $10 for 8 burgers. That's value!
• Asparagus - $1.98 per lb -- Excllent! This is a great price! And it's not even the 340g bunches, no, this is per lb!
• Sweet peppers - $2.98 4-pack -- Nice!
• Sweet potato and sweet purple potato - $1.28 per lb -- Fair price for sweet potatoes. It's fun to see purple ones get lumped into the same bracket.
• Coleslaw kit (Green Giant) - $5.00 for 2 340g kits -- Great price for salad kits.
• Mini potatoes - $2.98 5lb bag -- Good price for mini potatoes!
• Strawberries - $1.67 454g shell -- WOW! Cross our fingers they're nice AND cheap!
• Cherries - $5.98 per lb -- Decent price for cherries. I like making homemade yogurt popsicles with fresh cherries. Bit if a pain in the ass to pit, but so worth it.
• Brick cheese (Selection) - $4.44 400g bar -- Nice! Sub-$5 bricks!
• Salametti (Matro) - $6.49 300g chubs -- May include other varieties
• Baby genoa (Mastro) - $8.99 600g chub? -- Hard to read the ad, but this is a good deal for a big chub of genoa!
• Mortadella (San Daniele) - $8.99 750g chub -- Works out to $1.20/100g, which is a substantial savings compared to the deli counter or buying it presliced and packed!
• BBQ Sauce and Mustard (Selection) - $1.00 each -- Nice! I personally love mustard and a good BBQ sauce. Might be nice to stock up for that burger night!
• Chips (Irresistibles) - $1.00 150g bag -- I usually don't point out chips and seed-oil-snacks, but this is a great deal!
• Produce Price Rating: Low to medium low

FoodLand

• Beef top sirloin steaks (AAA) - $7.99 per lb -- Great price for AAA steaks. Top sirloin isn't the best place to get a steak cut, but it could be fine. Have a look in-store and judge for yourself.
• Shrimp (31-40ct, Compliments) - $6.99 per lb -- Good price for shrimp, but note that these are small.
• Bar scallops (80-120ct, Compliments) - $6.99 per lb -- These are quite small, but they could be interesting to thaw, pat dry, and sear quick on high heat for use in salads. Or perhaps as a top to a risotto?
• Cucumber - $0.99 each -- Scene Member Price.
• Corn - $5.00 for 5 years -- $1 an ear!?!#@! Are they mad?! Do they not watch the news about boycotts and how consumers are pissed? And then you're going to charge them $1 for an ear of corn? My goodness…
• Produce Price Rating: Medium-high to high.

Freshco (price matcher)

• Bacon (Schneider's) - $3.99 375g pack -- Good price for brandname bacon. Sale also extends to some of their wieners and bologna.
• Frozen burgers (Compliments) - $9.99 1.13kg box (8-pack) -- This stretches us down into a $3/lb mark for beef. Which is pretty good all things considered, but know it's a processed meat. Read the ingredients: beef, water, bread crumb, soya flour, and salt and seasoning. You're paying for recovered meat mixed with bread crumb and flour. And the nutritional info on the pack reads 73% daily value of sat-fat in one 142g burger. A 152g fresh patty lands you at 60%. Know your food!
• Wild-caught Argentinian shrimp (23-30ct) - $6.99 300g bag -- This is a good rate on decent shrimp!
• Sweet peppers - $2.99 4-pack -- Nice!
• Mushrooms - $2.99 454g shell -- Great price!
• Green beans - $1.99 per lb -- Awesome price for green beans!
• Royal Gala apples - $1.49 per lb -- Good price for a nice apple variety. However, you can also sometimes score these for $1/lb if you wait and dig around for the sale.
• Blueberries - $2.49 full pint -- Nice! Another great blueberry sale!
• Produce Price Rating: Low to medium low (more on the medium side)

Giant Tiger (*note the VIP prices; sales begin today) (price matcher)

• Hotdog wieners (Olymel) - $2.47 375g 5-pack -- Sigh… Good price for wieners, but still… Don't overdo it. These are categorically terrible for you!
• Ambrosia apples - $2.88 3lb bag -- Great deal on a tasty apple variety that hits that $1/lb mark!
• Blueberries - $2.88 full pint -- Man! So many blueberry deals! Where are these coming from?!
• Romaine lettuce - $2.88 3-pack -- Nice! Fair price for romaine hearts.
• Baby spinach - $1.97 140g bin -- Good price for 140g. The prices of these bins are the weights are all over the place. Some places charge $4 for the same bin. And then some others charge $4 for 300g bins. Treat carefully!
• Canned tomatoes (Primo) - $3.00 for 2 796ml cans -- Good price for nice tomatoes. Funny enough, in this week's flyer, they advertise the Great Value (housebrand) tomatoes for 1.77 being 50c, but if you buy two Primo cans they work out to 50c less than the Great Value (confused yet? Lol)
• Fireworks - various -- LOL I just wanted to mention they got fireworks and firecrackers hahaha
• Produce Price Rating: Generally on the low side.

Green Fresh Supermarket (Vanier) (check https://greenfreshottawa20.wixsite.com/greenfreshottawa)

• Produce Price Rating: Usually very competitive, catering to Asian cuisine. Warning: their newest sales start on Fridays - so this is a late advertising of their sales.

IGA (price matcher)

• Hotdog wieners (Lafleur) - $5.00 for 2 packs 375-450g -- More hot dog prices for our analysis. I'm noting these to get a sense of what the heck is going on with these….
• Lobster (cooked or live) - $7.75 per lb -- Scene Member Price. 9.75/lb regular. Awesome deal!
• Tomahawk steak - $13.99 per lb -- That's pretty good for a fancy steak cut. I like thick cut steak because you can get that and crust without overcooking the meat. Pro tip: always salt and set your steak uncovered to dry in the fridge. That's what gets you a top-notch crust!
• Veal loin rack - $13.99 per lb -- This is more interesting than a value proposition. Expect a decent-sized rack to run you a pretty penny, but it should cook nicely. Remember to let it rest after it reaches the desired internal temp. Be patient!
• Whole chicken (fresh) - $1.99 per lb -- Great price!!
• Eggs (Nutri, Burnbrae) - $5.79 18-pack -- Not a ground-breaker price. Maybe it's just nice see some price stability in egg prices.
• Corn - $4.00 for 10 ears -- Excellent deal at 40c an ear!
• Cherries - $4.99 per lb -- Awesome!!! Cherries can easily reach into the $8-9/lb range.
• Bologna (Lesters) - $5.49 675g chub -- This is a good price for a chub. It's not fancy deli, but it beats the prices by 2-3x or more given you're paying 81c/100g.
• Deli - Cooked ham (Olymel) - $1.99 per 100g -- Speaking of deli prices, consider this unholy monolith slab of ham versus that slice-it-yourself bologna. This "hamalgum sibling" is 2.5x the price of the bologna by Lesters… Just saying…
• Produce Price Rating: Medium

Independent

• Pork back rib - $3.99 per lb -- Meh price for pork rib… $3/lb is good, but $4/lb doesn't seem worth it when it's largely bone anyway! I'd rather buy the duck they have for $4/lb….
• Atlantic salmon - $9.99 per lb -- Average price for pink fish.
• Beef striploin steaks (AA) - $7.88 per lb -- Good enough price for steaks, but FoodLand had AAA grade for the same price.
• Duck (fresh, grade A) - $3.99 per lb -- Good rate for duck.
• Asparagus - $2.99 per lb -- Meh rate. There's better.
• Strawberries - $2.49 454g shell -- Good price for strawberries.
• Butter (Lactantia) - $5.99 454g bar -- Sigh… I wish butter would come down in price…
• Produce Price Rating: fairly high with few exceptions

Loblaws

• Pork back rib - $3.99 per lb -- Meh price for pork rib… $3/lb is good, but $4/lb doesn't seem worth it when it's largely bone anyway! I'd rather buy the duck they have for $4/lb….
• Atlantic salmon - $9.99 per lb -- Average price for pink fish.
• Beef striploin steaks (AA) - $8.88 per lb -- Ben là là! Same AA steak, $1/lb more…
• Beef boneless blade roast (AA) - $8.99 per lb -- Ok price for beef… It's kind of meh… Consider visiting local butchers to see what they have going on.
• Duck (fresh, grade A) - $3.99 per lb -- Good rate for duck.
• Sweet potatoes - $3.99 5lb bag -- Great price for sweet potatoes
• Mini-cucumbers - $1.99 6-pack -- "Save $2". Ya, we know Loblaws. I've been saving $2 on these packs for months now at other stores.
• Blueberries - $1.99 full pint -- Great price for blueberries!
• Mango - $0.99 each -- Fair price for mango considering I've seen Loblaws charge much more for them. Also, I expect we'll see some nice sub-$1 deals in the future.
• Butter (Lactantia) - $5.99 454g bar -- More $6 butter.
• Produce Price Rating: fairly high with few exceptions

Provigo

• Pork chops - $2.49 per lb -- Good price for pork chops.
• Chicken breast and thighs (boneless skinless) - $4.99 per lb -- Good price chicken.
• Atlantic salmon - $8.99 per lb -- Good price for pink fish.
• Corn - $5.00 4-pack -- What?! How can we have these disparities… Maxi has theirs for 33c an ear. That's $1.30 versus $5 for 4 ears… Insane difference in price…
• Watermelon (9lb average) - $3.88 each -- Nice price for watermelon.
• Mango - $0.99 each -- That $1 deal again. "Save $2". Meaning regular price was $3. Insanity.
• Deli - Mock chicken (Gaspésien) - $1.29 per 100g -- Good price for deli, but it's mock chicken. I would refer back to the IGA deal on Lesters bologna. Buy whole chubs, slice it yourself, and save.
• Produce Price Rating: fairly high with few exceptions

Maxi (price matcher)

• Ground beef (medum) - $8.88 1.1kg -- About 2.5lb of beef, which clocks this in at about 3.50/lb. That's pretty good!
• Corn - $0.33 per ear -- Awesome price for corn! It's crazy. Provigo had their 4-packs for $5. Which
• Mini-cucumbers - $0.88 6-pack -- Very nice! A regular "good deal" is $2.
• Coleslaw kit (Florette) - $1.88 340g kit -- Great deal for a salad kit.
• Potatoes (Imperfect) - $4.88 15lb bag -- Excellent!!
• Mini-carrots - $4.88 2lb bag -- This is a good deal given a 2/3lb bag can be $2-3.
• Watermelon - $2.88 each -- Nice price for watermelon, but no weight advertised.
• Kiwis - $4.88 600g pack -- Pretty good. Can be as low as $4, but this is a fair price.
• Apples (Cortland, Empire) - $5.88 4lb bag -- Ok price for what should be over-winter apples. Mind the bruising.
• Fancy cheese deal - $18.00 for 3 -- Check the flyer and in-store for more details.
• Sriracha (Flying Goose) - $3.88 730ml bottle -- Nice! It's a different brand, but the price is right. I wonder what the difference is.
• Silk plant bev - $6.88 for 2 1.75-1.89L jugs -- Good deal.
• White vinegar - $2.88 for 2 4L jugs -- This might be good to get in advance of some pickling plans.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally medium low pricing! This store can post some impressive deals at times.

Metro

• Pork back rib - $2.99 per lb -- Good price for pork rib. It's that magical $3/lb mark. It's hard to find rib for less. And, I wouldn't pay over $3/lb.
• Beef top sirloin steak or roast (AAA) - $6.88 per lb -- Great price for AAA grade beef! They also have "platinum angus medallions" for 8.88/lb.
• Fresh sausage - $4.99 per lb -- Great price for fresh sausage. You can spend $1/lb more and get organic stuff by Dubreton.
• Cucumber - $0.77 each -- Awesome!!!
• Cauliflower - $2.99 each -- Decent. Not amazing, but decent given a head can go for $4-5 easily.
• Portabella mushrooms (Belle Grove) - $6.99 4-pack -- Hmm, I'll have to keep an eye out for prices on portabellas. This doesn't seem that bad off the hop. I know sometimes you can get 4-6 packs for about $4-5, though. But, you have to hunt around town for deals like that.
• Blueberries - $1.99 full pint -- Great price for blueberries!
• Cherries - $5.99 per lb -- Nice! Fair sale price for cherries!
• Watermelon (15lb average) - $9.99 each -- Trying to make sense of these watermelon prices. This isn't as good as some other deals. But considering on the same page they advertise 1.49/lb for sliced watermelon, it suggests this watermelon could cost you up to $22.
• Butter (Selection) - $4.88 454g bar -- $5 butter.
• Produce Price Rating: High. Kinda like Sobeys. You can see a 50% average mark-up compared to a lot of other stores. It's nice produce, but it costs you.

No Frills (price matcher)

• Beef burgers (No Name) - $9.99 1.36kg 12-pack -- Just more frozen burger musing. Basically much like the Compliments ones we saw earlier, but 113g each, but with more sugars and funny ingredients, and the same amount of sat-fat! (And they skip mentioning that 75%-ish daily value number for the sat-fat). Like, what the heck are "onion extract" and "corn syrup solids". Do they squeeze the onion and throw away the rind? And isn't solid syrup just solid sugar? lol....
• T-bone/Wing steak - $6.99 per lb -- This might seem like a good deal, but it's ungraded beef. Why pay this price when metro has AAA-grade steaks for a smidge less?
• Picnic pork shoulder - $2.44 per lb -- Excellent price! These are AWESOME for smoking and braising for pulled pork!
• Ground chicken or turkey - $8.00 870g pack -- Not bad. Works out to about $4.20/lb or so.
• Ground beef (lean) - $6.00 450g tube -- Really a meh price for "tube meat".
• Steelhead trout fillet - $9.99 per lb -- Standard pricing for pink fish.
• Asparagus - $2.99 per lb -- Ok price for asparagus. I expect better from No Frills.
• Green beans - $2.99 per lb -- Same with the green beans, I expect a bit better.
• Cucumber - $0.99 each -- Good price for cucumber.
• Mini-cucumber - $3.99 11-pack -- Fair price on the 11-pack. Meanwhile, Maxi has the 6-pack for 88c… Sigh…
• Watermelon (9lb average) - $2.99 each -- Good price for melon.
• Ataulfo mangoes - $5.64 5lb case -- This should work out to about 8 or so mangoes. Good deal.
• Pineapple - $2.99 each -- Good price for pineapple.
• Brick cheese (Armstrong) - $5.49 400g bar -- Hmm, ya, seeing some 50c to $1 upward pressure on cheese pricing a little everywhere….
• Earth's Own plant bev - $3.79 1.74-1.89L jug -- Good price. Regular floats well into the $5-ish ranges.
• Dry pasta (Italpasta) - $1.25 750g packs -- Good price for dry pasta. Stock up a little. Maybe there's a potluck pasta salad in your future.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally quite low, selectively amazing for some items.

Produce Depot (usually a little late on the flyer) https://producedepot.ca/

• Ground beef (lean) - $4.99 per lb -- Fair rate for ground beef. Considering No Frills is selling 450g tube meat for $6, I'd buy this in a heartbeat. It's just not stock-up pricing.
• Beef New York striploin steak - $12.99 per lb -- I wish they'd mention the grade, but if it looks nice, it could make for a nice BBQ item.
• Whole atlantic salmon (fresh) - $6.99 per lb -- Now, it's not filet and deboned, but it's a heckin' deal for salmon.
• Wild-caught squid - $8.99 per lb -- Perhaps there's calamari in your future?
• Hothouse tomatoes - $1.29 per lb -- Great price for tomatoes!
• Green and red leaf lettuce - $1.69 per head -- Great price for leafy greens!
• Sweet orange peppers - $0.99 per lb -- AWESOME price for peppers!!!
• Brussel sprouts - $1.49 per lb -- Fantastic price for brussel sprouts! Often over $3/lb.
• Blackberries - $1.49 half pint -- Good deal for blackberries. Lots of blueberries going around, though.
• Red seedless grapes - $1.99 per lb -- Fantastic price for grapes! Often $4/lb.
• Peaches - $2.49 per lb -- These are from the USA. It could be a they come out a little tough. Leave them on the counter to ripen, but eat them fast after that!
• Cheese counter - Landana smoked cheese - $2.39 per 100g -- I'm partial to smoked cheese. This could make for a nice fancy burger topping.
• Deli - Genoa salami (Mastro) - $2.59 per 100g -- This isn't fantastic pricing, but fair. A 600g chub can clock in at $10-12 or so, this deli counter pricing is fairly competitive.
• Produce Price Rating: Medium-low with very competitive specials on a shortened flyer. The small flyer is nice because it doesn't uselessly feature $6 heads of cauliflower and extremely high-price items that are either a confusion on the consumer, or an insult on the injury of not being able to afford supreme quality items.

Real Canadian Superstore (price matcher)

• Beef rib-steak (ungraded) - $7.88 per lb -- More ungraded beef at graded prices.
• Pork tenderloin - $3.49 per lb -- Fair price for tenderloin.
• Duck (frozen, grade A) - $3.99 per lb -- Fairly regular price for duck.
• Golden Pompano (frozen) - $2.88 per lb -- This is advertised a lot at the RCSS. I've never seen it elsewhere. Does anyone have experience with it?
• Dressed Tilapia (frozen) - $2.88 per lb -- Dressed means tail and fines removed,
• Potatoes - $5.50 10lb bag -- Great price for potatoes.
• Corn - $0.40 per ear -- Awesome price for corn. This is probably loss-leader territory.
• Watermelon (11lb average) - $3.99 each -- Good price for a big melon.
• Pineapple - $3.00 each -- Good price for pineapple.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally medium-low pricing, selectively amazing for some items.

Sobeys

• Chicken thighs (boneless skinless) - $5.99 per lb -- Fair price for boneless chicken. There's better out there, however.
• Beef striploin steaks (AA) - $8.77 per lb -- Scene Member Price.
• Beef sirloin tip roast or marinating steaks (AAA) - $8.99 per lb -- Hmm, striploin AA versus sirloin tip AAA… Might be a toss up. Sirloin is leaner and has less marbling. But AAA might lend to a tenderness. This may be give and take, here…
• Lobster (live) - $10.99 per lb -- Scene Member Price.
• Pork chops - $3.49 per lb -- Not a great price, really, but it may be your option if you're stuck with Sobey's this week. Ad mentions it includes roasts.
• Picnic pork shoulder - $3.49 per lb -- We saw No Frills offereing this at 2.44/lb. A $1/lb more isn't great, admittedly. But, it's an option.
• Asparagus - $2.44 per lb -- Good price!
• Green beans - $2.67 per lb -- Good price!
• Bok choy - $0.99 per lb -- Amazing price. I don't get how other places charge $2/lb+ for choy, and then you have Sobeys of all stores swooping in to corner that side of the market.
• Asian pears - $0.99 per lb -- Awesome price!
• Brick cheese (Cracker Barrel) - $5.77 400g bar -- More of this elevated cheese pricing… Hmm….
• Produce Price Rating: Generally a high price store, especially for produce. Some items are 50% more than more value-oriented stores. Kinda like Metro, some of the deals can be quite good.

Super C

• Chicken breast (boneless skinless) - $4.44 per lb -- Awesome price!!
• Atlantic salmon - $9.88 per lb -- Standard sale price for pink fish.
• Pork tenderloin (marinated) - $3.44 per lb -- Good price. Not amazing. But, pre-marinated? Hmm, makes for an easy meal.
• Corn - $1.88 for 5 ears -- Awesome price!! Under 40c an ear!
• Broccoli - $1.33 per crown -- Very good price for broc, especially if the crowns are nice. A good crown can easily range over $2.
• Radishes - $0.99 per bunch -- Nice! A good addition to salads or veg trays.
• Green onions - $0.99 per bunch -- Fair price for green onion. It's hard to find it under $1.
• Mini-carrots - $0.99 340g bag -- Nice!
• Mini-cucumbers - $1.99 6-pack -- Fair going-rate now for mini cuce. A very welcome change from charging $4 for these packs.
• Mini-potatoes - $1.99 3lb bag -- Good price for mini potatoes. There's still better value in regular size potatoes most of the time. But, sometimes, these sales can negate that value proposition. Plus, these are nice a thousands ways to Sunday. They cook very quickly, and are great oven-roasted, steamed, and BBQ'ed with other veg.
• Apples (Empire, Spartan) - $3.99 3lb bag -- Fair price for apples these days, it seems. I think we'll be hard-pressed to find certain varieties for under $1/lb for a while.
• Strawberries - $1.63 454g shell -- Awesome price!!!
• Pineapple - $1.88 each -- Fantastic!
• Oranges - $2.99 3lb bag -- Good price for oranges!
• Mangos - $0.99 each -- Good price. Mangoes should clock in at around $1 each. Enough of these $2-3 mangos…
• Cantaloupe - $2.99 each -- Good price/fair sale price for cantaloupe.
• Cherries - $4.99 per lb -- Wow! Great price for cherries!!!
• Brick cheese (Black Diamond, Ptit Quebec) - $4.87 400g bar -- Nice to see we still ahve sub-$5 cheese options this week.
• Fancy cheese deal - $18.00 for 3 -- Apparently includes 20 different varieties.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally low, but can creep into medium for some items. But, there's always something decent available!

T&T Supermarket https://www.tntsupermarket.com

• Produce Price Rating: Usually very competitive, catering to Asian cuisine. Warning: their newest sales start on Fridays - so this is a late advertising of their sales.

Walmart

• Ground beef (lean) - $3.97 per lb -- Excellent rate on ground beef! Make your own burgers!!!!
• Chicken or Pork kabobs (Marcangelo) - $7.87 480-640g 8-packs -- It's basically $1 a kabob. That ain't bad for a ready-to-cook item. But, note that this translates essentially into 8/lb at worst, or 5.50/lb at best. There are WAY better deals on pork and chicken around.
• Asparagus - $2.97 per lb -- Fair price for asparagus.
• Corn - $0.32 per ear -- Best price on corn this week!
• Potatoes - $4.97 10lb bag -- Good price for a 10lb bag.
• Coleslaw kit - $2.77 397g kit -- Good price for a decent-size slaw kit.
• Strawberries - $1.84 454g shell -- Awesome price!!!
• Pineapple - $3.97 each -- Not bad. I like to see $3, and less shouldn't be taken for granted. Remember, it takes 2 years to grow a pineapple. One bad fungal disease and we should see these shoot up to $6-8 a piece. Treasure well-priced pineapple!
• Brick cheese (Armstrong) - $4.94 400g bar -- Another $5 brick cheese sale.
• Produce Price Rating: A little all over the place. Some really good prices between a lot of average pricing.

Costco (Note that these are the online/shipped prices - reduce each item by $3 for in-store pricing)

• NOTE: NEED TO REVISE - --
• Paper Towel (Kirkland) - $27.99 12-roll pack -- 2-ply; 160 sheets
• Paper Towel (Bounty) - $27.49 12-roll pack -- 2-ply; 86 sheets
• Toilet Paper (Kirkland) - $25.99 30-roll pack -- 2-ply; 380 sheets
• Toilet Paper (Cashmere) - $24.99 40-roll pack -- 2-ply; 250 sheets (on sale)
• Dish soap (Dawn Platinum) - $18.99 2.66L -- Food Basics often has this jug for $10!
• Laundry detergent (Purex) - $24.99 9.24L -- 250 loads
• Garbage bags (30 gallon; large) - $15.99 100-pack -- Amazon has Glad standard 74L bags, 100-packs for $23, sometimes less if on sale
• Countertop green bin liners - $21.99 125-pack -- Amazon has Glad Compostable green bin liners 100-packs for $18, sometimes less if on sale
• Produce Price Rating: I need to do a proper check to be sure, but I find it's pretty average. There's an illusion of getting a good deal because of the bulk. Just be careful.

Jean Coutu (new sales start Fridays)

• Produce Price Rating: I have to start checking these just in case...

Shoppers Drug Mart (new sales start Fridays)

• Produce Price Rating: Sometimes they have cheap butter, eggs, and milk on weekends.

Some additional references!

• Grocery Review Google Drive Location https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xhLvBP1smXb1eSnxAW5yyBjO2aYFLJHC?usp=sharing
• Cooking Tips and Recipes https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1TCcHm9y0kWIa3x18hznKN2ix0BPcUv-m?usp=drive_link
• Google Maps list of the Grocery stores in Ottawa https://maps.app.goo.gl/YT7cZmv8vMQWU4J59

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

I don't really no where to start. I feel I've lost myself, consumed with anxiety and guilt and fear and regret and I fear, this new fear, that it's going to be the end of me if I don't start to get it out in some way, shape or form.
I guess I'll begin at the beginning...
​
I had a difficult childhood with fairly neglectful parents. A mother who openly expressed she never felt she really stepped into her mom shoes until she gave birth to my younger sister, who is three years younger than me. She is my only sibling. My mother told me when I was a kid that she "had to love me", but when my sister came around "she was finally a mother and over the moon", or simply "I always always wanted a girl". I'm not sure if this could be attributed to Post-partum depression, not that she ever researched that or was daignosed with it. That's probably just me trying to pardon my mother or something to the effect. She was 17 when she had me and I'm sure times were different then, my parents both were raised religious, father christian, mother mormon. Maybe their guilt. I ask myself why they brought me into this world if I wasn't wanted to begin with. Or, give me up for adoption to a set of guardians that would have loved me better. I know I was an accident and that's not what gets me down, I get that life be lifing and what happened happened. My difficulties stem from the feeling that my presence never gave my mother any sense of purpose, responsibility or love, or concern. She was emotionally unavailable to me virtually my entire life and I feel like that caused many issues later in my life and how I perceive myself and what I deserve. Coupled with the fact that my neglect met such extremes that I am frankly shocked that I was never picked up by child care services, maybe things were different in the 90's. I'm not sure, I was just a child then.
Much of my upbringing I didn't receive a lot of the things most people would consider essential. As a baby my crib was the sock drawer, then I grew large enough to have a closet, then slept on the floor of a walk-in closet, then I had a single bed from what I recall for maybe a year or maybe two years and I remember feeling metal springs poke me in the my ribs and I recall it being uncomfortable enough for me to move back to sleeping on the floor next to the ratty old used mattress my father found from who knows where. I remember feeling like I had to keep that secret, that the mattress they gave me was uncomfortable enough for me to sneak sleeping on the floor next to it. I think I was really afraid as coming across as ungrateful. My father came from a third world country, so the "gratefullness issue" was address frequently by my mom because "I don't have it even half as bad as what my father had to endure. And she was probably right. But it just silenced me ultimately, didn't put things into a mature context for me. I just learned that I can't complain about anything ever. Anyway, that trend didn't really change when I grew older. grade 9-10 I was sleeping on the living room couch so my sister could have privacy and a bedroom to exist in for herself - which I realize is important for an individual so I encouraged her to have the bedroom. Although I figured my parents expected me to do this for my sister regardless. I was okay with making sacrfices for those I love, it was instilled in me from a very very young age.
I do feel like my father took advantage of me in the form of labour as well, having to do custodial work with my father from 10pm to 3am, at two highschools I believe he was contracted, at that young age I honestly enjoyed just spending time with my father I think, working alongside him. When I was in grade 2 and 3 I had garbage bag duty for all the students bathrooms, and I remember loving snapping the bags open by rushing air into the bag and making it blow up like a baloon. I remember the scary unlit shadowy hallways that I couldn't perceive the ends of. No bodies to see, it felt eerie but exciting in a way - like it was a whole different world.
School was a different experience for me. It was very stressful, my parents had to move a few times a year because they would dodge rent or just generally be selfish with their dual income. They loved to party hard on the weekends. I remember wondering why my father did this to himself all the time. Hoping that we could spend quality time on a saturday, but he wouldnt get out of bed until just before dinner. I didn't really understand hangovers or alcoholism and how it meant our plans would get cancelled. I think I remember trying to wrap my head around willful self-poisoning for entertainment and how could that be more enjoyable then spending time with your son? I couldn't tell my mother why I was so sad about it. Why I didn't want to move again and again and again. Why I found it so difficult to make new friends everytime I had to switch schools. Why I couldn't just do one single full school year with one class of students. It was so hard and at the time, I didn't know anything different. It was so hard to make friends and I think it created this approach to making a "new family" of friends when I became a teenager and young adult.
​
I remember always wanting to be a "good kid". The "best kid" for my parents. I feel like my parents attached this moniker to me that made things harder for me to mature into a rounded adult later in life. My parents always flaunted me as this point of accomplishment, the accomplishment that I was "so extremely well behaved". I would strive to be super polite, and a good host, try to help out when my parents had their friends over, literally fill their cups when the opportunity presented themselves. I think I did this because I must have made the conclusion that if I was quiet, super polite, helpful and useful then I had value. That I could be loved. That I could earn this love from my parents through acts of service.
I remember feeling like my sister and I had extremely different experiences growing up. When my parents were at work I took care of her, cleaned and cooked. one time my sister told my mom to eff off when she was 5 and I was 8. My mind was blown. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she had the bravery and courage to defy my mother. Looking back, my sister was just mirroring the language she learned from my parents from whenever they fought. I remembering seriously worrying and getting scared that my father was going to belt her, or use the coat hanger, which was his preference with me. I feel like my mom was always checked out and I'm hurt that she allowed my father to take his rage out on me. That my mom could care less about me being beat, but never my sibling. It was very confusing and difficult for me to process. Not that I really processed it much as a kid. I honestly just wanted to be loved and be the best child possible. Honestly though, 'm seriously so glad that my sister was spared all of that complete non-sense. I don't wish that on anyone in the world. There were some punishments where he would walk in and tell me to pull my pants down without explanation. I have memories of tearing up and saying I didn't know why this was happening, asking what I did wrong and he would just remind me that if I resisted then I would get it worse and to hurry up and get ready. My father has since apologized. I think it is how he was raised. I didn't know what to say in response, but I told him I loved him and it's in the past. But I don't know if I was being honest when I said that. My mother would still gaslight me to this day if any of this became topic of discussion, not that I'm guessing. A year ago she told me that much of my pained memories were false and this never happened. My father on the other hand typically stays pensive and unchallenging.
It seems so damned crazy writing all of this out, it feels like a heartbreaking novel and not my life at all. But it was and is my life. I have difficulties opening up and expressing my feelings and advocating for myself when the moments are true and appropriate to do so. I know it's the healthier way to communicate, but I was literally taught to stay quiet and be useful. Fast forward 20-25 years and I'm going to be 35 and I feel like just ending it all. Every year my birthday passes and I'll get a text from my family happy birthday. But they know I'm in a difficult place, they know I miss them, they know I love them and forgive them, I try the high road whenever I can but I just don't see the point anymore. they won't celebrate my life and existence, but they'll throw family gatherings for each other, birthdays, christmas, fathers day and mothers day.
On that note, another mother's day has recently passed and my mother never invited me over, I texted my father three weeks in advance in hopes of securing a time to come over and celebrate my mothers life with my family as a family. I felt particularly stung this mother's day when they celebrated and didn't text or call to invite me over. I live in the same small town so it's easy to hop over. I literally live three blocks away.
Anyway, my mother was diagnosed with cancer over christmas this year and I have been worrying for my mother ever since and thinking about my life with her and the mortal coil and the finite mount of time I may have with her. I feel like there is a large empty part in my heart that wishes my mother and I could go grab a coffee together. She can show me her ipad app art that she has been really excited about for a couple years now. She loves showing off her digital art and I love seeing her joy and how proud she is about her art. I just don't know why she couldn't feel the same for me, her only son. Maybe I'm just a her dissapointment.
I dropped out of highschool and left the family home when I was 16. I just couldn't work for my dad during the night AND go to highschool AND socialize. Something had to give. Unfortunately it was highschool and my parents didn't really care about that at all. They were just... fine with it. they supported my sister through college and she was fortunately able to graduate with a veterinary degree of sorts. she still lives with them now as she pays off her student debt, but I left and travelled and worked on music for over a decade so I admit that I was entirely out of the family picture for some time. But as I get older, not wanting to repeat the mistakes of my parents I fear that that is precisely what's been creeping up in my life.
five years ago I met the absolute most wonderful human being and I am so lucky to have my partner in my life. She and I are engaged now and set to be married. I hoped that the news would overwhelm my parents with excitement and joy. Maybe a facebook post about their son, share some family pictures or something. But they did nothing at all. I think they showed off pictures of the trip to Mexico that week instead.
I just don't really understand how I'm this unworthy of their love and unfortunately now I'm realizing that illusion that I am unworthy has infected my relationship with my fiance. I love her so much but when I can't fix everything in her life I feel like I am the failure and the guilt overhelms me so much and the guilt is such a strong motivator for me, and it usually motivates me into becoming the biggest doormat in the world. I've never worked harder for a relationship or invested this much energy. I feel she deserves it. But I don't advocate for myself. So I build up resentment. Like I clean the house constantly and work and help bail out of her bad spending habits and cover her rent without question and this and that. To be clear, she doesn't take advantage of me and that's not how I feel about it. But I do let this annoyance build up inside of me because I don't know how to communicate my feelings in a healthy way. I'm scared I'll lose the person if I speak up, or I'll be gaslit. Again, that's not my partner that gaslights. That's just generally how I feel I'll be treated if I open up with people. It all goes back to my childhood. It's affected every friendship and work relationship I've had since.
When I was 20-ish, 15 years years ago I did the classic, "seek the relationship that most comfortably fits into the patterns you experienced with your parents". And so I trapped myself in a horrific and extremely damaging relationship with a girl I'll call K. She has undiagnosed bipolaBPD, she would never seek help but self-medicate. She ended up in the hospital maybe four times for self-harming and this where she was considered to have these diseases by a few doctors on different occasions. Anway, it turned into a relationship of abuse and it wasn't exactly new territory for me. I was ashamed in that 8 year relationship. I wanted out so bad, but she would threaten to unalive everytime I tried to get away. Of course, some weeks would go by and i would get my hair pulled out of my scalp, a knife waving in the air in front of my face, spat in the face, kicked, punched, bit, a pot of freshly boiled ramen soup thrown in my face and eyes. What's worse is that I seeked police intervention on multiple occasions. Every single time the police visited, they talked me out of pressing charges, asking me " well if she doesn't have any place to go, then do you have a place you can stay at, or the shelter?". twice they talked me out of a restraining order, that legal proceedings would take forever. Adn de-escalting me from wanting to take measures to ensure my safety because she may end up on the street as a result. To this day, I absolutely wish I advocated for myself here and pushed for a restraining order. I'm so mad at myself for not doing so.
Unfortunately, fast forward a couple years into that relationship and one evening everything would finally hit the fan. I told her to never touch me again and I absolutely meant it. she had just yanked out the largest chunk of my hair to date, to the point where my scalp was bleeding and I could even see epidermal matter still attached to the folicle ends that were in her clenched fingers. My head bled a bit and I pushed her off of me. Telling her that I needed to leave, that I was walking to my secure jam space just a 10 minute walk away. It had a leather couch in a cold concrete basement, but hey at least I would be safe for the night and I could play my drums and try and blow off this anxiety and fear in a way that was safe albeit very noisy.
She hated that I wanted to leave and convinced herself I would never return. To be fair, that was the energy I had. I never wanted to see her face again and have her name on my lips after that night. So her tactic was simple, to threaten me with calling the cops and tell them that I violently pushed her. I called her bluff and said "go ahead and I will just tell them everything you've done - yet again. All I am doing is going to the space to sleep, I said, maybe play drums." She called the cops and told them she was pushed into a wall, and she felt very unsafe. Which yes, I did push her off me when she attacked me. In the past, I tried various tactics, to run away didn't work, she just always chased me down. Or sometimes I would just sit there while she was violent against me and I just "dissapeared" kind of like how I would when my dad used his coat hanger. This time, I just pushed her off of me, I was done with the relationship at that point and we both knew it. Anyway, she called the police, they arrived and when questioned I told them that I pushed her off of me in self-defence. I was drinking that night and it didn't help my case as I was arrested without question that evening and I was charged on the spot without question with domestic assault. It devasted me. I asked the police how this could happen lawfully. That she is an abuser and there is a history of this multiple times. That I've requested a restraining order. They explained that in quebec the laws are a little different and in the case domestic cases, if there is a male aggressor against a female, then the male is automatically charged to the fullest extent. I was absolutelyu devasted by this. I can't tell you the amount of fear and anger I felt in that jail cell that night.
I feel so incredibly betrayed by the justice system, keep in mind, this is law that from what I understand is only in Quebec, I was there for music at the time with an old friend whom I am no longer in contact with. I don't think the rest of the country operates under law in this way. Now I appreciate that they are vigilant about woman abuse victims, but the law shouldn't be this absurdly biased. It just doesnt feel just and fair to me. Covert abusers shouldn't be able to take advantage of the justice system in this way, but it happens.
It was an awful experience, I was homeless for a couple months afterward, not allowed to retrieve my belongings, so I lost all of my life "crap" that I had built up, years of hardwork and investment. I mention this because I realize later in life that I have intense collecting behaviour. maybe as a self-soothing behaviour. But I love building up collections of my hobby stuff as I have many and I feel they keep me regulated and it's a form of therapy for me. In any case, I lost everything when I left that whole situation. It sucks, although ultimately it's clearly best that I got out of that dreadful circumstance. I flew across the country to my hometown and to be closer to my family and old friends from highschool. It's quite a small town mind you.
Unfortunately, my classic tendency to hide and not advocate for myself created an opportunity for my abusive ex. A year following those events, despite me assuring her that I had to block her because I flew away to start a new life provinces away. That I wished her the best. That I even promised I would never tell a soul what she did to me. Not to mention that unfortunately we live in a society where nobody really has an ounce of sympathy for a male abuse victim. I had every intention to keep that promise, but she couldn't trust me ultimately. I think her logic was maybe to just beat her ex to "the punch". Kill or be killed or something like that. I don't live my life like that so I don't really know what her plan was. But she made a bunch of posts on various social media platforms for all of our mutual friends, music friends, coworkers etc. that the relationship was over and she was free. That she got out of a cycle of abuse and she was ready to start a new chapter of her life. She never used my name, just that she was glad she got away from her toxic and abusive ex once and for all.
It was exactly like that night a year prior, she threatened me with this outcome she could design for me, and I called her on her bluff by saying I was still going to block her and I can't control what she does with her life or how she conducts herself, but that I was out and to never contact me ever again. She made me regret that decision.
The posts she made that day got so many likes and support from so many of our mutual friends, even musician mates that were closer to me than her, and it absolutely destroyed me, not just internally but socially. I no longer make music anymore and it hurts to go outside into the world because it feels like everybody sees me as this monster. And still I don't have a voice to inform anyone otherwise - except my family and my fiance. I have no friends anymore. They all left my life with the belief that I did all of these horrible and awful things.
I just don't trust people anymore as a result and it's just caused me to become extremely bitter and depressed. I ruminate on the past, maybe in attempts to fix the past so I can move on. So I could do better, so I don't have to punish myself for my mistakes in the past. But it just reopens every emotional wound I have and they never get a chance to heal. That was maybe 7 years ago now and I'm still replaying these events in my head every single morning for about 1 - 2 hrs. Then I go completely numb for the majority of the rest of the day, shallow breathing, and the mildest sadness that mascarades as fatigue and disinterest.
There are some days where I seriously fear for the future and I just feel like every cruel soul will inherit this earth and that's the future, they built this world of suffering and they deserve to inherit it. Their toxic flag staked so deep into the earth in reclamation. The future isn't holding any seats for people like us. I'm so heartbroken and defeated. I feel like white-wolfing my fiance because she deserves better than this traumatized person that hides from the world. I feel like giving her my collection of collections so she can sell it all off and pay off her 10k of credit debt, then with this act of kindness I can go out not feeling like a guilt-ridden defeated loser. And leave on a high note.
When I'm alone, I get trapped in these ruminating cycles and it's the angriest I ever get. It's reached the point where I feel like I am actually reliving all this past trauma every morning and I can't do it anymore. I just feel like I am so at the end of whatever this ride was.
I don't have any friends anymore and everyone but my fiance thinks I am a monster and it's just unbearable.
I just don't even know. I am even afraid that someone will read this post and suss through all of this and make the connection. Then I'll get another new email or random throwaway account with an insta message that says "I told you you would never be able to get over me. You can move on, but you will never be able to erase the past. Never truly. You know where to find me."
It's haunting and it's poisonous. I just feel haunted and poisoned and I don't know if there is a snake oil potent enough or antitode true enough to get me back to the generous, lighthearted, energetic kid I once was.
To whoever was willing to read through all of this, thank you for hearing me out. I don't know what advice I am even asking for here. I'm hoping just speaking this out into the world in some way can alleviate this misery. I don't know.

Today I read of the guy that falsey reported sandy hook shooting never happened and how some think anyone should be able to report or say any falsehood they want. And to them I want to share my own experiences and show why we need some accountability and laws to prevent this from happening to other people. I will never be the same as I was because of someone's conspiracy theory.
In 2020 I was healthy of mind and body. I was active on Facebook, reddit, LinkedIn, and Twitter. I'm almost 50 and a mother of 7 and grandmother of 5. I've suffered from social anxiety and depression bit had that under control. I have a soft spot for helping abused children. My bank card rounded up to the nearest dollar and the change went to help prevent child abuse. I studied child development and child psychology in college. I am ex military and have some ptsd (the social anxiety and depression) but again under control. In 2020 there was false news coming on Facebook about children being abducted, abused in numerous ways and it broke my heart. I had to help. I was drawn in to a conspiracy theory due to my heart hurting for these children that were missing or abused. Around October I was told via comments to look up the fall of cabal videos on YouTube to get even more information about how children were being hurt. Like a dumbass that (even though I finished college) was still so gullible I went and watched all 10 videos. This conspiracy theory didn't just touch on children being hurt and abducted but my religious beliefs and my distrust of politicians. At video 10 I was so afraid but not the same way others were. You see the Bible says we won't know who Jesus or God is until Satan is revealed. So I saw this conspiracy theories idea of jfk Jr coming back not as Jesus or God but as Satan and Trump was him. Most people believed this and saw this as a godsend buy I saw it as the ultimate evil on earth. It frightened me so bad I had a nervous breakdown. I lived inside my own mind for over 8 months. To this day I still don't leave my home, don't know what's real or not, and have deleted nearly all but reddit of my social media. To remind what sanity I now have I can not watch the news, go to places where others might verbally attack me and my TV time insist of dvds I have that I know by heart. In my head still we are in end times. I can't undo that thinking. I'm trying to see a professional through the va but they are booked till October.
Last July I tried to go to a family reunion in another state. I went into psychosis because of the videos and thought the worst things about my own family. I saw my family of Trump supporters as racist and the entire reunion as a kkk hoedown. While my ex pastor uncle danced and sung while playing horseshoes I saw my uncle dancing around a fire chanting hate. While my aunts sat by the river watching their pups swim I saw them planning that nights witch orgy. While my brother bar b qued beef and chicken I saw a child's ribs and meat being cooked. I was in total psychotic break and it wasn't even a day since I was there. I was rushed home and tended to for the next two weeks while my spouse and children tried to bring my mind back to our home.
This is why we need only facts to be reported on news and if it's a fictional story then it needs disclaimers and it needs guidelines. If the word news is in the name it needs to be factual and unbiased even if it's news and entertainment. News needs to be factual and unbiased. There's no entertainment in news. It's suppose to bore the kids like it did me as a child.
Some of you will disagree and say I should know how to tell what's real and not but you might be forgetting that I am not you. No one is you. Some people are gullible and they need to be protected. The ones that normally tell me it's my fault are normally the ones saying we need to protect everything. We'll my mind should have been protected. There should have been disclaimers. There should have been rules so others like me didn't get drawn in and start believing these horror stories. I can no longer go to the park with my grandchildren out of fear. I'm too afraid to leave my home because of this conspiracy theory that took my faith, my love for children and corrupted them. I question the Bible and still feel the fear of end times all the time. I can't support anything that tries to help children afraid I'm supporting another conspiracy theorist. My entire life has been turned upside down because someone or a group decided to play with my gullibility.
I'm glad that family won their lawsuit. I hope laws begin to take place to protect families like mine ND theirs. And to those spreading the lies I hope this finds you so you can see just how much those lies have hurt this family. I hope you rot in hell and Satan has his way with you. I hope God does not forgive you for leading some of his children astray and for hurting those you have hurt. I hope his vengeance is as horrible for you as you have made my life. And normally I never wish harm on anyone because it's not very Christian.

I need advice! I am doing a lot of ribs this Sunday for a family dinner. I have a Yoder 640s pellet smoker and I just purchased their 3-tier rack insert. I have cooked a lot of ribs, but never in this quantity at once. I did a test this last weekend with the new 3-tier rack with a couple slabs - looks like I can do about 9 racks in total on the 3-tier rack
I have always normally just cooked ribs on the 640s top shelf. With 3 shelves, should I rotate? Swap the ribs from the bottom shelf to the middle shelf? Since ribs are about a 5 to 6 hour cook - how often to swap? I will not be wrapping them.
Additional info: These will be spare ribs and I will trim to St Louis style. And any “open” room will likely be filled with the large trimmings. I will be following Meatheads best rib recipe. I will be using a smoke tube with cherry pellets. I’m picking up a case of spare ribs from Sam’s this week.
Thank you!

First of all, I might not have IBS, but I have developed severe bloating over the last few months. It only happens after dinner in the evening and it's so severe that I can't exercise, sitting is no good as my swollen tummy presses below my ribs, laying in any way is painful as well.
I guess I need to do an elimination diet of sorts, but I don't know how because I have an inborn muscle/metabolic condition for which I need a very specific, carb-rich diet.

• I know my problem is somewhere in my dinner.
• Grains of any kind, bread, yogurt, all kinds of fruits, cheese, other dairy products are fine.
• I cook everything from scratch, thus likely a simple ingredient.
• I eat very little meat
• I can't just start with chicken breast and add ingredients to it as I need lots of carbs, a mix of fast and slow acting ones as I otherwise hit the wall. This means I get super tired, confused, my muscles cramp up badly, my feet feel like lead is attached to them, nausea. The same happens when I exercise too long without adding sugar or trying to move when fasted. During daytime I need something to eat every 60-120 minutes to avoid these crashes. Thus trying to figure out what's wrong in my dinner is not just a matter of discomfort, but of potentially getting rather sick. For the same reason I can't have a colonoscopy. I just can't eat nothing from noon until next morning, and go through the stress of cleaning. Just fasting before surgery has resulted in me being too unstable for surgery before.

Thus other than avoiding onions for a while, then garlic, then tomatoes, etc.. is the only thing that comes to mind, hoping it's a single thing and not a combination of things. Any other suggestions?