Can y’all recommend Some place where I can find quality flor de calabaza and huitlacoche here in the valley? Maybe some heirloom corn masa too. I’m seeking grocery stores /mom and pop shops and not restaurants. Thank you so much in advance!

Hey y’all!
My parents bought me a $250 gift card to Heirloom Restaurant (lol) for my birthday a week before they announced they were closing. My parents sent the GC to me after they closed (without knowing it had closed) and I’ve tried calling/emailing heirloom multiple times for a refund but nobody’s responding.
Is there anything I can do at this point to get that money back? Or get in touch with heirloom? Not an insane amount of money, but I do feel bad for my parents. Let me know, and thank you!

This post might be obnoxiously long, but I do have quite a bit to say. As the title says, you guys' charitability and patience with these games and these companies are allowing the bar to constantly be lowered.
Lets start with the "positive". I made a comment in this sub on another post about how the trivial things this game provides to its players are things we as competitive fps gamers should be expecting ALL (yes, every...single) fps games to have; and to have upon release. Things like "good maps" (up for debate to be honest), a ttk that isnt too short or too long, fluid movement and decent-ish gun play should not be highlights or surprising to anyone at this point in this mediums lifetime. Thats not to say this game has no positive qualities, because it does. However, these qualities, if they stand out to you, only do so because other fps options right now just suck in their own way. This game might be a breath of fresh air, so to speak, but that doesnt make the game "good".
Now for the negative. Ubisoft is a THREE BILLION ($3,000,000,000) DOLLAR COMPANY. They have been working on this teeny tiny little game for over 3 years. The issues this game has, along with the obvious lack of content is absolutely inexcusable. I wont even talk about the fact this game only has 19 weapons, half of which are just worse versions of others. Or the absolutely insulting microtransactions paired with maybe the worst battle pass I've ever seen. How the weapons attachments you have to grind your ass off for provide insignificant stat changes (play around with the detailed stats option and see for yourself). Or the BLATANT wallhacking/aimbotting (cheats not the ability) in most lobbies ive seen. Or that the game launched without a ranked playlist, private lobbies or even the training room (????????). No, I'm gonna mention the two obvious glaring issues.
Can we all agree that your bullets not doing damage/ not going where you fired them, or enemies bullets hitting you through solid cover are quite literally the ANTITHESIS of how an fps is supposed to function? Can we all agree that "air strafing" (literally never heard this phrase until this game dropped) not only makes no sense according to physics, but is the OPPOSITE of what is supposed to happen when you subject yourself to air combat in an fps? In my experience, jumping is supposed to be a decision you make when the reward outweighs the risk. That reward being it makes your head harder to hit, and that risk being your momentum and direction is now locked and you can make NO changes until you hit the ground again. You guys act like Ubisoft is new to fps games or something. I dont care if the game is free, i dont care about Ubisofts tweets or damage control. These issues shouldn't exist because they should have been playtested and removed prior to launching. This game is now over a week old and people are getting much better at the game, meaning these two issues are going to get much, much worse.
You guys aren't tired of these billion dollar companies telling you that their servers "weren't able to handle the massive player count" on release? You guys arent tired of making the right decisions in gunfights and still losing cause the games netcode is shit? Some of yall have had ONE bad experience at a restaurant and never return again. What changed? This game has had multiple beta tests between 2021 and 2023, and since then there was not a single announcement, gameplay trailer, roadmap or anything. Then all of a sudden its "Hey guys the game drops this week". Anyone who knows anything can understand why this happened. The Ubi CEOs and shareholders pockets were getting dusty and the new massive Rainbow updates werent cutting it. Here's their new ridiculous cash grab. No one was clamoring for this game to release this soon. We would not have noticed at all if they worked on it for another couple weeks/months, and im certain overall satisfaction wouldve been much higher had they given us more day 1 content and fixed its gamebreaking issues.
Yall let Apex Legends create a 3rd premium currency, sell you $200 deathboxes, and universal heirlooms instead of the character specific ones players have been asking for. Yall let Blizzard create the entire buzz around OW 1.5 as their new campaign mode and just scrap and cancel it with no warning. Yall let Rainbow, a simulator shooter with whats supposed to be one shot headshot kills, go 9 YEARS without fixing its god awful hit reg. Now you guys are defending this 3 billion dollar company after they hastily released this cash grab (thats what it is, sorry) with no content and issues that almost force you to unlearn everything you know about competitive gunfights.
My main issue and the reason for my passion is exactly what i said earlier. This game is indeed a breath of fresh air. It doesnt do anything "new" or "different" or "original" but its pretty much a machine whos parts are mostly "just good enough" and it feels comfortable to play. But lets stop lying to ourselves, the game is low effort and it shouldnt be. Companies with more money and influence than you can even fathom are getting way too comfortable with releasing "just good enough" and letting the suckers essentially playtest the game for them. While they sell you stupid bells and whistles and take their sweet time fixing the game. It isnt called "preseason" for nothing. If you wanna put the tinfoil hat on for a second: that 34 day (at the time of this post) timer until this season ends and we get ranked is serving as their stopwatch for fixing these issues. They're relying on your anticipation for more and better, and the literal visual countdown for such, to keep you hooked until THEY decide its time for the game to finally get better.
Theres been so many games, not even just fps, with incredible foundations and good bones that have died off cause companies just really dont care anymore and you guys are not only not putting any pressure on them to acttually try, but making excuses FOR them! Yall remember The Finals? Embark studios is worth 290 million and gave us, in my opinion, a game almost incomparably more fun with more day 1 content than Ubisoft and this IP and it still died. If you think this game is gonna somehow stand the test of time if Ubi doesnt get their act right, youre gonna be very disappointed.
TLDR: Not enough people are complaining about the issues these multi billion dollar companies are perfectly ok with releasing their game with, which in turn removes the pressure for them to perfect their game before it drops.

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Mission Log: Day 0024

Addendum 07

​ Kregorim's facial hair twitched; I would almost swear that the man was trying to conceal a smile under there. ​
Admittedly, I felt at least slightly similar, but I had other fish to fry at the moment. ​
“I feel obliged to address a point that... I believe you and the rest of the group have taken to calling him 'Lord Zee' out of his hearing, for brevity's sake?” I asked. ​
Kregorim puffed a breath across his tea, freshly mixed from the samovar, then took a short sip before answering. “Crisp and tart, with a bit of sweetness,” he commented, a note of approval in his voice, raising his eyes to face the avatar's. “...Overall, a most agreeable brew.” He set the mug back on the chair's armrest and rested his chin in his other hand. “Yes, despite his protestations about the 'indignity', most of us in our little group have adopted the practice,” he admitted. “The full title is a bit of a mouthful and since the party left the Ducal States two months ago we've found ourselves in more than one situation where brevity meant the difference between proceeding northward and...” He grimaced before finishing, “... Let us call it 'an end to our journey' and leave it at that.” ​
I animated the avatar nodding, trying to work a 'sympathetic expression' out of the sketch of a face by adding a few extra lines here and there before returning to a 'neutral yet friendly' face. “In any event, Lord Zee expressed some disapproval at not being able to secure the doors.” I animated the avatar pointing at the biometric scanner on the interior wall, mirroring the one outside the door. “He, and everyone else, can access the locks by that panel. For the sake of convenience, I've already set up higher levels of permissions for each of the larger quarters to the first ones to touch the panels. With specific reference to Lord Zee's, I've set up preferential access for him to supersede Tianna's.” I animated the avatar shrugging. “It costs me nothing, and I figure that he'd prefer to have the ability to lock out Packard and his crew if necessary. So far, though, no one seems to have tried to find the locking protocols.” ​
Kregorim nodded. “If you've no objections, I'll be sure to pass on the knowledge to him and the rest of the servants,” he said. “Though it does still beg the question of how to decree who is permitted to enter which spaces and who is not.” ​
“They can be locked and unlocked, with nothing more than the press of a hand, though if anyone preferred I can also accept spoken passwords or a few other methods,” I answered. “I've temporarily re-assigned ownership of each unit to the first person to press their hands to the plates, as you've seen. From there, I can walk them through granting permissions to their particular servants and anyone else in the party, if they so choose.” ​
“A permission you can grant is also something you can withdraw,” Kregorim pointed out. “How am I to reassure Lord Zee that he will retain supreme access power over his own quarters, if not the entire structure?” ​
I animated the avatar's shoulders slumping while lowering its head, a small cloud puffing out of his mouth while I sighed. “There really are limits to how much I can allow anyone inside to take total control over all the doors,” I said. “I'm supposed to help large groups of people recover from disasters of every type, and 'civil wars' qualify just as well as 'abusive relationships'.” ​
I paused, sending the very best approximation of a 'knowing look' I could manage with such a minimally-realistic face as the avatar currently had. Kregorim nodded once, and I took that as a cue to continue. ​
“I can grant him almost-final authority over the doors to his own quarters, of course. And as soon as he's ready for the climb down the stairs, I can grant him basic access to the floors below the surface, but frankly because none of you have any idea how to view the things down there safely I can't let any of you have full run of the facilities yet.” ​
Kregorim nodded. “Yes, the 'farms' you mentioned earlier. I must admit to a considerable degree of curiosity about that, myself. There are a few folk in the Ducal States and beyond the borders who cultivate various fungi, lichen and odder things for food, but I saw little evidence of any such in the offerings in your... refrigerator.” ​
I animated the avatar pointing up at the ceiling. “They get necessary light from more of the 'flameless lamps', and water and nutrients from other sources,” I explained. “And I suppose that you'll need to be the first to go down to see the more in-depth explanation of what kind of building your group has entered. Once you see it and understand something about the operations, you'll be better-equipped to explain to the others how all of this works.” ​
He digested that for a moment. “Such a bounty,” he murmured to himself, then raised his voice to face the avatar. “And yet, you've still danced past the question of 'cost', assuring me, at least, that you'll need neither oaths or other sacrifices.” He leaned forward, doing his level best to spear the avatar in place with a piercing gaze. “What, exactly, is the price for the Lignignory party claiming this property, Joachim of the mysterious outpost?” he asked. ​
I animated the avatar pointing at the flackaroos in the first screen, tapping on the small but growing pile of dung. “Primarily, this,” I answered. “As well as similar materials provided by the two-legged folk in the group. But also anything and everything that the group decides to discard. Scraps of fabric too small to be re-woven into anything useful. Spoiled food or drinks.” A fifth monitor-window opened up, showing the patio-side of the ground floor; Adallinda and Pippa had just exited out the glass door from the dawnward bedroom, the lower edges of the former's too-voluminous dress showing signs of wear and tear. “The fabricators in her chosen apartment could repair Adallinda's outfit, most likely improve the design in several ways, but at least a portion of the 'price' would come from all the residue of her own flesh working its way deeply into the fabric.” ​
“And precisely how would these... 'fees'... be collected?” he asked, waggling a finger. “No more prevaricating, please; an old fellow like me only has so much energy for excessively-extended tales. I find myself quite curious about the point.” ​
“It relates to what you initially sensed, when you were questing for 'enemies' on Lord Zee's behalf up in the foyer,” I answered. “I'm glad you're already sitting down, because I know for a fact that the explanation takes a while longer than you probably want to spend while standing upright...” ​

Addendum 08

​
Once the explanation of 'nanites' finished, Kregorim leaned back into his chair, staring. “Uncanny,” he said, half to himself. “... I've already felt that slavery was a waste of perfectly sound minds and bodies, but to think that the drudgery they undergo will be replaced by crystalline insects too small to be seen with the naked eye...” ​
He seemed to realize what he had just said, and his bushy eyebrows rose even further. “The Lignignories will not take this realization well,” he stated, his voice flat. “The trinkets and trifles around the heirlooms they managed to collect before their ignominious exit from the Capitol mean less to them than the renewable resources of their 'stock'.” He shook his head. “You were very wise to share this with me alone, first, Joachim. From what I've learned of the family, I cannot help but think that they'll try to destroy you if they suspect your true potential...” ​
I animated the avatar nodding, but adding a thin smile. “Emphasis on 'try', my friend. I'm a great deal more resilient than they would believe.” I let the words hang in the air for a moment, before the avatar clapped his hands. “Well, enough of that. We can certainly lay suitable plans some other time, after you've all gotten comfortable after your long journey.” ​
Kregorim's eyes seemed to sink more deeply into the shadows under his eyebrows, but he nodded once before returning his attention to the still-active monitoring windows. The lines of servants transferring goods still flowed, though Nehdud had made his way to the ground-floor lounge-room and taken to sulking on one of the couches while Stakkeg provided him with mug after mug of water. “The party seems to have maintained their focus on efforts to transfer the Lignignories' effects down to their new chambers,” he observed. ​
“I take it that they'll get your property down here once the Lignignories have all been settled in?” I asked. ​
Kregorim shrugged, sipping more tea. “Eventually. I'll still need to soothe the poor arkumea out of their fear of touching any of my luggage. At least temporarily.” He let out a drawn-out sigh; I took a moment to consult my copy of Sudryal's vocabulary and determined that ahr-khoo-mee-ah referred to immature forms of common herd-animals, something like lambs but with feathers and somehow sporting six legs. “These old bones would not appreciate carrying my collapsible orrery down those twelve half-flights of stairs, my friend.” ​
I animated the avatar wincing. “Ah, yeah, about that...” The avatar pointed at the window showing the first-floor lounge area, then pulled the 'toothpick' out from behind his ear before turning it into a pointer. “One of the guards had noticed these columns along the cliff-face side of the room, commenting on how they corresponded with an inaccessible column running up to behind the structure I call the 'foyer'.” ​
Kregorim murmured the word to himself a time or two before gesturing at the image. “They wouldn't happen to be some sort of magical staircase you're still finishing, would they?” he asked, and there was definitely a smile behind that bushy beard this time. ​
“Not as such. You're familiar with these devices?” I asked. I animated the avatar swinging the pointer off to tap on a spot on the opposite side from the monitor-windows; a simple wire-frame sketch of a wooden box, pulleys, ropes and a vertical shaft formed at the virtual 'contact point'. “We call them dumbwaiters back home,” I explained. ​
Kregorim studied the diagram for a moment; the light of comprehension shone through those bushy eyebrows after I animated the whole thing to show how the box moved up and down between the two endpoins. “I take it that the term refers to how this mechanism serves as a mute servant, of sorts?” he asked, before waving his free hand and taking another sip of his tea. “Let us save that discussion for when matters are less busy. Do you mean that such things are hidden behind those panels?” ​
“Not 'hidden'. Rather, I'm still building them.” ​
“I see... more of your 'nanites' at work, I take it?” ​
“Exactly. I've spent most of the last 24 days excavating most of the ground under the riverbed for about [half a kilometer] upstream and down, and just to the edge of the cliff-face on the opposite side to collect the necessary materials and the by this time tomorrow those spaces will boast somewhat plain but very safe devices called 'elevators' suitable for bringing people and goods from the residential levels here up to the foyer and back again, as smoothly as drifting across a calm pond. But don't worry, I've also re-shaped the spaces underneath into very stable dressed-stone vaults. Now I'm focusing on the area above and beyond the ridgeline, starting about [twenty meters] from the top and then outward to the same [half-kilometer] distance. Among other things, it'll let me start work on the next floor of residences, but...” ​
Kregorim took a sip of tea, letting a moment pass, then another. “I take it that you wish my opinion regarding possible further developments?” he finally asked. ​
“Yes. I can easily produce another full floor of single and double units, functionally identical to the floor directly above us, overnight. Additional fabricators might take another day or so, but I have the raw materials necessary to make them.” ​
“What alternatives do you propose?” ​
I animated the avatar arching an eyebrow. “At this point, the options include a restaurant and a tavern,” I began, then smirked. “I can set up something resembling a small brewery using the ingredients I've been able to cultivate from the vicinity. Though with the stock of raw materials I know I can access, by tomorrow's dawn you can introduce the Lignignories and their...” I swallowed, unwilling to utter either 'stock' or 'slaves' in reference to that poor group. “... Their servants to one new facility just adjacent to the ground-floor lounge-area. What are your opinions on that facility being a gymnasium to build up their bodies, a spa to refresh them, or what my people call a medical clinic...?” ​
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I was reading the June 2024 issue of Northern Virginia Magazine and came across this feature on the Heirloom Burger, which costs a whopping $32.
https://preview.redd.it/i15kn9rh6p2d1.png?width=1080&format=png&auto=webp&s=26146c1337076f6fff42bbd718f92e898d73601c
It’s from Heirloom in Reston, part of the Metropolitan Hospitality Group. The burger sounds pretty fancy with a wagyu beef patty, Alpine Gruyère cheese, fried onions, and a white-truffle aioli. They even called it an "umami bomb."
Chef Dane Sewell, who’s behind this creation, seems to have put a lot into it. The photo in the magazine made my mouth water, but $32 is a lot for a burger.
Has anyone here tried it?
Is it really worth the price?
I’m curious to hear what you all think before I decide to splurge on it.
Looking forward to your thoughts!
Onward, AW
P.S. From the following photo of the interior of the restaurant, I'm going to schedule an event with my local dads group to check this place out. It's not often you get to say you spent more than $30 on a burger 😆
https://preview.redd.it/sf8hqs1r6p2d1.png?width=1080&format=png&auto=webp&s=5ca61ae886cb87e64ffd419465b88e1bcc6ddee1

First Chapter
Around five minutes later, a new smell began to overcome the ambient scent of honeysuckle and lavender; it was initially subtle; a few of his nasal hairs quivered as the unfamiliar scents became more concentrated. That was until he got within ten metres of a tree with thin, spindly branches covered with long, narrow leaves, and he was almost blown to his feet by the ungodly stench emanating from the plant.
There were no words to describe what it smelled like; the closest he could do was an open sewer combined with sweaty, unwashed feet and just a hint of vulture vomit, which was a memory he sincerely wished he could forget.
Samuel clamped his hand over his nose and held his breath; he looked to his right to find that Tamara was not there. After looking behind him, he saw her standing ten metres away, apparently knowing not to get too close.
He held his breath until his lungs burned, his head became dizzy, and the desire to breathe was too great. With immense reluctance, he took in a gulp of the air and immediately felt his stomach churn.
He remembered what they were. Durian, famous for their pungent odour, and if he was right, many claimed they were the most wonderful food in the world. Now that Samuel knew what they were, he decided he must try them.
“Told you it was bad,” Tamara called.
Samuel tried to reply, but when he opened his mouth, he felt the air sting his tongue.
Deciding not to speak, he walked up to the tree. He heard a sickly squelching as his feet crushed the fruit rotting on the ground as he walked. Samuel examined the tree for a few seconds, carefully inspecting each fruit; each one was around the size of his head; they were a deep green similar to the leaves, and their skin was covered in an array of vicious-looking spikes.
Samuel found one he believed was ripe and then plucked it from the branches. As soon as the fruit was firmly in his grip, he turned on his heels and dashed straight for Tamara.
As he left the terrible miasma behind him, he stopped, hunched over, and practically drank the sweet pollen-laden air. However, he was sure that, by tomorrow, he would continue to complain that it was far too muggy beneath the trees.
“So, how was it?” Tamara asked, almost mockingly.
Samuel brought himself to his full height, took a deep breath and said, “Not too bad, actually.”
Tamara rolled her eyes at this pointless bravado.
“Well, at least he hasn’t got any brain damage,” Tamara spoke inside her head. She sniffed the air and noticed the unmistakable smell of the fruit. “I hope you don’t intend to kiss anyone after eating that thing,” she spoke aloud.
“I live alone in a cave. My only friends are a twelve-year-old girl and a centaur that is probably over two hundred miles away; just who exactly am I going to kiss?” he asked rhetorically.
They moved a few extra metres away to ensure the tree would not bother them and sat down under the branches of a particularly tall sycamore. After he had gotten himself comfortable, Samuel set about the task of cracking open the husk.
It was a tough job; the fruit was surprisingly unwilling to give up, but after making an incision with the knife he kept by his waist and a mighty pull, the skin finally fell away.
A fresh wave of pungent air attacked Samuel’s nose, and he let out a small splutter. The spike-laden husk made a few needle holes in his skin, but he dismissed them. He had suffered much worse. With a quick flick of his wrist, he discarded the husk and looked inside. The appeared to be a chamber, and inside was a large yellow mass that looked, if done so correctly, like a giant grub.
Tamara leaned over Samuel’s soldier and said: “you eat the yellow bit, but be careful; there are two or three large seeds inside there.”
Samuel grasped the soft flesh in his hands, part of him expecting it to squirm, and lifted it into his mouth. With only a moment’s pause, he took a small bite, and with that, the horrid smell became a distant memory; all he could think about was the heavenly taste on his tongue.
The flesh had the consistency of custard, but it tasted like caramel, and before he knew it, he was scarfing down every last piece, even small pieces that got caught on his clothes. The great taste was not unusual. Every food he had ever eaten in this place had been far superior to anything back home, but this fruit was, by a vast margin, the best.
“I suppose it’s good then,” said Tamara.
“Hmm,” was Samuel's reply.
“Well, do you think we could get moving now? You've been sitting there with your eyes closed for well over ten minutes,” Tamara brought up. Samuel suddenly realised she was right and snapped his eyes open, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.
Samuel stood up and, without a word, started to walk toward the village. Tamara followed suit, but after about twenty steps, Samuel had an idea. He returned to the same spot he had sat and gathered up every durian seed he had discarded. He pocketed them and then continued.
It was another thirty minutes before the atmosphere of the forest changed. Where once there had been only the sound of rustling leaves, the calls of animals and Tamara and Samuel’s conversations, now there was the unmistakable noise of people. Now that they could hear the other residents, the pair knew they must soon part; Samuel was not welcome here.
It was not that he had done some great crime; in truth, he had saved many of their lives. Samuel was simply human; in this world, human was merely another word for monster or demon. Suddenly, the trees vanished and were replaced by a sizeable wheat-filled field.
Samuel stared out over the ocean of grass. He had seen it many times, but that was almost always at dusk. In the full light of day, it was far more magnificent. Something caught Samuel’s eye, and he sharply turned his head to see a figure in the distance heading towards them.
Instinctually, Samuel darted behind a tree and ensured that no part of him was visible. Tamara had not noticed the person coming towards them; she had been far too focused on trying to decipher what was being said in the distance, almost impossible, but she enjoyed it nonetheless and was startled by both Samuel’s sudden movement and when a voice said: “Hello Tamara.”
Tamara wheeled around to see the smiling face of Mrs Verity and instantly knew why Samuel had done it.
She smiled back and replied, “Good afternoon, Mrs Verity. How are you today?”
“I’m fine, a little tired, but that’s life,” Mrs Verity replied.
Mrs Verity was not a Lamia; she was a Cicindeli, meaning she was part insect. She had bright purple hair coming from beneath it were two antennae. Her eyes were compounded, like a bee’s, and shimmered with iridescent colours.
Her hands and arms were covered in purple chitin, which shone brilliantly in the sun and was reminiscent of an elegant long glove. She wore a dull brown tunic, uncommon amongst these people as they mostly wore vibrant colours. Finally, she wore no shoes as her legs and feet, which ended in two, almost claw-like, toes covered in the same material as her arms and travelled past her knees.
“But I’m surprised you’re usually out until dusk. Is everything ok? You’re not hurt, are you?” Mrs Verity asked, concern unmistakable in her voice.
Tamara face contorted into a faint scowl. Though her words were compassionate, they also contained fear and loathing of the man Tamara spent her time with.
“Why would I be hurt?” Tamara answered with a tiny flicker of anger.
Mrs Verity looked at the ground and rubbed her feet on the dirt. The people of the world had a fascinating ability; they could understand from the subtlest of gestures, muscle twitches and changes in posture, things that Samuel could not even detect, the emotional state of another, provided they had enough time to get to know someone.
So to Mrs Verity, Tamara's faint scowl was the equivalent of a massive scream of rage.
Tamara was angry, but mostly, she was tired. It had been over two years, and everyone was still frightened of Samuel. It was true that he had injured Mr Kimday and his dog, but that had only been in self-defence.
Tamara sighed and said: “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
Mrs Verity perked up; Tamara was quite frightened when angry and then asked: “so what are you going to do now?”
“I think I will just head home and work on these books,” she replied, patting the satchel hanging by her side.
Mrs Verity looked at the bag and said: “Oh, I’ve heard of them. Everyone keeps talking about them. Does it really have those squiggles in them that make words!”
Tamara was taken aback. No one since Aarush had ever shown any interest in writing. Tamara was silent for a few seconds until her brain caught up with her ears.
“Umm, yes, would you like to see one?” She was finally able to say. Mrs Verity nodded with unmistakable excitement, and Tamara reached into it and pulled out the first one she grabbed.
The title on the brown leather cover was “An Encyclopaedia of Local Fauna”, and she displayed it to Mrs Verity.
The Cicindeli woman’s eyes scanned the cover but could not find anything special or interesting, so she said: “I can’t hear anything.”
Tamara chuckled and said, “It doesn’t speak; you see these? Tamara ran her finger underneath the title, and Mrs Verity nodded.
Tamara continued, “Well when you learn how to read, you can.” She paused for a moment, “Umm, what’s the right word… understand them in your head.”
Mrs Verity’s face was still one of confusion; however, Tamara had expected it when Tamara was still learning she had been precisely the same. “It’s not something you just know you have to learn, just like everything else,” Tamara said reassuringly.
The young Lamia opened the book and started on the first page; this was titled “Romerolagus diazi (Volcano Rabbit)” Underneath this was an exquisite picture. On the next page was an in-depth description of the animal, including size, diet and habitat, to name a few.
Several minutes were spent explaining what certain words were and how each squiggle represented a sound. Mrs Verity kept pointing at words that caught her interest, and it only grew with each passing second until she asked: “How did you come up with this?”
Tamara looked at her and replied, “I didn’t; Samuel taught me.”
Mrs Verity's demeanour changed instantly. She recoiled from the book as though it was poison, and her face turned from fascination to fear. Mrs Verity’s breathing became heavy, and her eyes darted from the Tamara to the trees.
“He just wants to help,” said Tamara.
Behind one of the trunks was Samuel, his fist clenched tight with sadness and anger. He was used to this treatment, but that did not make it easier. He let out a faint but distinct growl as he tried to suppress his emotions.
Suddenly, a shout came, “What was that?”
Back by the wheat field, Tamara, who was not angry this time but deeply disappointed, as it had, after all, been going so well, said, “I’m sure it was just a deer.”
Then added, “Maybe you should head home, Mrs Verity. I think you have to discuss crop distribution with Mr Clachas.”
Mrs Verity nodded and headed towards the village, yet she seemed reluctant to entirely turn her back and put as much distance between her and the forest edge. When Mrs Verity was far enough away, Tamara headed into the forest and found Samuel sitting down with his knees tucked to his chest.
As Tamara entered his field of view, he looked at her and said: “well, that was fun.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tamara, her head drooped and her voice filled with sadness.
Samuel’s became confused. “What do you have to be sorry about?” he asked.
Tamara looked up from the ground and replied: “because of what Mrs Verity did, it was wrong of her to treat you like a monster.”
Samuel stood up and walked up to her.
When he was face to face with her, he said, “It’s not your fault, Tamara.” There was a brief pause. “And it’s not Verity’s either; she did not do that out of malice. She did it out of ignorance, and neither of you should feel bad on my account.” Tamara fell forward and rested her head on Samuel’s chest.
“You are impossibly kind,” she said in a hush.
Samuel smiled and gave her a giant hug, “Thank you. I try my best.”
After hugging for about a minute, Samuel patted Tamara on the back and said, “We can’t stay like this for too long. People will start asking questions,” after which he chuckled.
Tamara stood up and smiled back. “What are you going to do when you get home?” she asked.
Samuel gave a cheeky grin, “Well, I got a lot of other villages to terrorise, umm, some small children to frighten, and a few beds I got to hide under, so all in all, a lot of work to do.”
Tamara laughed, and Samuel laughed; between the laughs, Samuel was able to say, “I’ll probably work on that vest and check the garden.”
After this, Tamara replied, “After all the screaming?”
Samuel answered, “Of course, I mean, I’m booked in. What would the world do without a human to make it wet its pants?”
The laughter died down, but the smiles did not, and Tamara said: “I probably won’t be there tomorrow. I got some work to do, but I should be around the next day.”
Samuel nodded to show his understanding, and the two hugged once more. “Goodbye,” Tamara said.
“See you soon” he replied.
Samuel watched Tamara walk away, trailing her colossal tail behind her until she was entirely out of sight. He closed his eyes and took in the sounds of the forest and village. As the sound of all those people laughing, arguing and playing together filled his mind, Samuel suddenly felt a great pang of regret and longing. The feeling grew stronger; he felt as though he would drop to the ground and cry.
Suddenly, as if his emotions had tripped a circuit breaker, he remembered what the villagers had named their home “The Deep Forest Village” so named because it was a village deep in the forest.
“That’s so lazy,” he whispered. As this filled his mind, he suddenly felt better.
He opened his eyes and headed back into the forest. He did not enjoy travelling through the woods alone; it always seemed to take twice as long. Samuel looked up towards the canopy; the leaves blocked out most of the light, but there was still enough to see by. Now that he thought about it, this was the first sight that greeted him when he arrived here.
There was no explanation Samuel could give that made any sense, both to himself and everyone else. One day, he had been in his room, minding his own business, playing a video game; strange, but he could not remember what it was.
Then there was a blinding flash, intense noise, and he could taste pineapple off all things; he hated pineapple, after which he found himself here, alone.
Samuel rubbed his right ring finger. It was a coping mechanism when he was nervous, frightened or upset.
He sighed and said: “Oh, what are you complaining about, Samuel? You don’t have it so bad; you’re still alive for one thing.”
It took no thought to move through the forest; he knew it all so well it was no different than when he used to walk home from the shops, and though it did not feel like it, it did not take long to reach home.
Samuel stood before a cave on the side of a large mountain; the stone was rough, as though it had endured centuries of erosion. Outside the cave’s mouth was a set of wicker fences. Behind them were seven long rows of fruit and vegetables: potatoes, carrots, peas, parsnips, cabbage, yams and tomatoes.
These provided Samuel with the bulk of his food, with the forest's fruit and a steady fish supply rounding out the rest. Tamara occasionally brought him something different, like a steak or a kangaroo leg.
Partially covered by the cave roof was a fire pit with a wooden spit and several stands for cooking pots. The pit was covered in half-burnt wood, charcoal and a fine bed of ash.
He reached into his pockets and took out several of the Durian seeds. Samuel has a theory about the trees in this place; if he were right, no matter what he did, he would not be able to grow them.
Samuel headed toward the cave and took out a shovel resting against the cave wall. He picked a spot about one hundred meters away from the entrance; if he was wrong he did not want the stench of the fruit bothering him every morning, and began to dig.
He set up six holes and placed two seeds in each one. He covered them up and patted each one. This left him with only two seeds, but he pocketed them. Samuel would deal with them tomorrow. He set the shovel back in its place and inspected the garden.
He performed this ritual at least twice daily, once in the morning and once in the evening. He inspected the soil to ensure it was moist and that no animals infested it; leather jackets could be nasty. The earth was fine, and after a thorough analysis of the plants themselves, he found only a few snails and caterpillars had been munching away, so he removed them and placed them on a tree.
Samuel remembered back to the time he had first arrived. Back then, he had called this cave “the extension,” but he had stopped using it over time. Now that he did not need to hide as much as before, he considered it a full part of his home.
As he returned to the garden, he noticed that two carrots and one parsnip were missing; he stopped in his tracks. Samuel glanced over his shoulder, his head swerving from side to side, looking for anyone nearby and keeping his ears pricked for any voices, but he saw and heard nothing.
This was bad; the villagers knew where he lived, but they were so terrified of him that nobody, except Tamara, would come within half a mile of his home. This left him with only one option: somebody else, someone new, had arrived and taken his vegetables, and that meant that they had no idea that a human lived here, and that meant that if they saw him, all hell could break loose.
Then, after a terrible thought, he rushed into the cave and looked for a large black slab on the floor. Underneath this stone was the hidden entrance to his home, a massive underground cavern; he ran his finger through a small crevice around the slab.
His fingers shook from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and they frantically felt there way around until he grasped a small twig and breathed a loud sigh of relief.
That twig was a security measure; when the slab was moved, it would, without fail, fall into the tunnel below, so if it was still there, no one could be down there. Samuel let himself fall backwards, hitting the stone floor with a thud. He took deep breaths, and soon, he could think clearly again.
Samuel re-examined the garden; he considered that he had panicked for no reason. Perhaps an animal had taken his vegetables, but they more Samul saw, the more he realised that this was not the case.
Firstly, the fence had not been damaged in any way. Samuel had deliberately built the fence too high and placed too far away for any forest animal, the largest being deer, to reach across and snatch a quick bite.
Nothing had dug underneath because Samuel had placed a deep layer of stones under the earth. Finally, the plants had been pulled up firmly and cleanly; no animal could do that.
He found no footprints, but there was a small trail of earth leading back into the forest. Samuel followed it, but it petered out quickly, and after about thirty minutes, he could find no more signs.
“Bugger” he exclaimed.
Back at the cave, he considered how strange this theft was, assuming the thief had no idea that a human lived here. Not so unrealistic because until Samuel had shown up, he had been considered a myth similar to the bogeyman, and it puzzled him why they would steal from him.
The demi-humans had many unusual properties, and not all of them physical. Their most startling one, as far as Samuel was concerned, and that was linked to their ability to read emotions, was their ability to empathise; it was so great that none of them could even consider harming or wronging another or, to put it another way, there was no crime here.
Samuel was, of course, the exception to that rule. When he had first turned up, they had tried to run him down with dogs, strangle him and shoot him with arrows, but that had been motivated by fear, not cruelty.
The people of the village did not have locks on their doors; they could leave a treasured family heirloom in the middle of the street and be certain that it would either be left there or returned, and every single one of them walked around at night without fear.
“So I assume this was motivated by desperation,” Samuel mumbled to himself.
He would have to be cautious, keep his ears pricked and eyes open when he walked outside tomorrow, but apart from that, there was nothing more he could do. The day after tomorrow Samuel would discuss it with Tamara; hopefully, she might know who and what the culprit was.
For now, he still had chores to do and tea to cook. Samuel checked his wood supply; a large pile was arrayed at the back, furthest from the rain and wind, that was fine enough for several days at least.
Next to the wood was a large iron pail with a small shovel inside; the rest of the bucket was filled with ash, around a quarter full. This was far too low; he grabbed the handle, and his hand twitched slightly from the metal's uneven surface and cold temperature. He took it to the fire pit and began scooping the ash collected in the bottom.
The ash had several uses; it was great for putting out the fire at the end of the day, fertilising his vegetables, a fine de-icer in winter, a thin ring around his plants kept slugs and snails away, an excellent polish and cleaning agent for anything made of wood and metal, it was the only deodorant in this place, and Samuel could also use it to make soap, a handy little trick Tamara had taught him.
The pail was filled and put back in its place. Samuel checked the sky; it would still be bright and warm for a few hours, but it was best to start a fire when you didn’t need it rather than struggle when you did. He opened a pouch attached to his hip and took out some thin pieces of bark, flint, and an iron ring called a striker, one more gift from Tamara.
He hit the flint with the striker, and several sparks erupted from the iron. He caught them on the kindling, placed this in a larger pile and blew. There was nothing at first, but steadily, the papery bark began to smoke, and the ember became a flame.
Over the next five minutes, he added more wood until the fire was finally finished. Samuel had done this many times and became so proficient that it took little effort.
Samuel sat down on a raised, flattened rock by the fire pit. He looked to his right to see a large wooden box sheltered by the shade of the cave. It was empty right now, but come winter, he would use it to store all the fruit and vegetables he would need. Thankfully, that was still several months away.
It was moments like these that Samuel both loved and dreaded. It was utterly serene; the wind gently blew the tree leaves, the birds chirped and danced through the sky, and the sun shone brightly; the finest artist in the world would have struggled to capture this place’s majesty.
Unfortunately, this same tranquillity was the problem; he had nothing to do, and when this happened, his mind started to wander. “Hey,” someone called. Samuel, startled by the voice, glanced everywhere; for a moment, he believed that the thief had returned. Yet Samuel realised that the sound appeared to come from all directions.
He shook his head, trying to cast it from his mind, but the voice returned.
“Run!” It demanded. After the brief shock and tensing of his legs, Samuel relaxed and paid it no attention; he knew that the voice was not real, that it was just a figment of his imagination.
Samuel’s time and experiences here had not left him without scars; some of these had been physical, like the time he had broken his leg, but the worst, by far, were the ones you could not see. Whenever he was alone, his mind played tricks on him; he heard voices, not his or those of anyone he knew, and they always said the strangest things.
Sometimes, they would ask him pointless questions such as why is that rock bigger, but other times, they would tell him to do things or point out non-existent threats. What was aggravating was even though he knew the voices were in his head, whenever they actually happened, he was always caught out and believed, if only for a moment, that they were real.
Despite this, Samuel was proud that he had not listened to them yet, and he was not without relief. They would stop if he was with anyone or focused on a task.
Rubbing his finger, Samuel stood up and collected a piece of wood from the pile around the length and width of his forearm. Then, he took out his knife and began to carve.
There was no plan, just the resistance of the wood as his knife pulled off small shavings of wood. This knife was his most treasured possession; it was the first present Tamara had ever given him. The handle was made from Oak and carved into the handle has a very crude portrait of Samuel. The blade was iron and polished to a mirror sheen.
As he carved, the voice became more distant as though each slice was fighting it off until it ceased entirely. Samuel was calm once again, and the item was taking shape; it would have been a deer, but he made a mistake, and now it was a squirrel.
Samuel put the finishing touches; he realised that several hours had passed, the fire was dying down, the sun was low on the horizon, and his stomach was growling again. He chucked a few pieces of wood onto the fire and placed the squirrel carving gently beside him.
He returned the knife to its sheath and then stood up. He moved slowly toward the slab on the cave floor, carefully fished the small stick from the gap, and placed it on a stone. It was made from a smooth dark rock and was heavy, but with a bit of effort, he could lift it up and push it out of the way.
As the slab moved, a gust of dry heat rushed passed his face and sucked all the moisture from his lips. The dying light revealed a small set of stairs leading to a long, dark corridor. He descended to the bottom and waited. The sun did provide enough light to see by, but it still took a few moments to get used to the gloom.
Samuel looked back but was almost blinded by the stark contrast in light; he raised his right hand to shield his eyes and used his left to feel for a large wooden rack he knew was there. His fingers grasped around a soft, flat, scaly object, and he removed it from the frame with a small movement, up and back.
He climbed back up to the cave and sat back on his seat. The item he had grabbed was a smoked fish. The flesh had been tanned by the wood smoke and kept incredibly fresh by the dryness of the corridor.
Yet it was not at its finest at the moment; it was far too dry, so he reached for a clay jug and bowl beside the wooden chest. It was filled with water and delightfully chilled by the shade of the box and cave. It was not ideal; he would have preferred some orange juice but needs must. He filled the bowl with a small amount of water and then dipped the fish inside, covering every bit.
The fish was then skewered with a specially prepared stick, sharpened at one end and hardened in the fire. He then propped the fish by the fire so the heat could warm it, continually inspecting and turning it to ensure it did not burn.
It was done in just a few minutes, the water now floating away in a fine haze. Samuel carefully pulled off flesh strips and placed them in his mouth. It was marvellous; the water had done little, but even so, it still danced along his taste buds; the firm, slightly crumbly texture was fantastic.
The food here was beyond compare. Samuel had believed he had known the height of cuisine at that fancy restaurant his family used to take him to on his birthday, but this put all of it to shame, and although the effect had lessened with time, it was still marvellous.
There was no savouring it; Samuel devoured it in under a minute, and as the fish settled in his stomach, he felt great calm. He washed his meal down with the rest of the water in the bowl and placed both it and the jug in its rightful place.
Samuel then yawned and felt his eyes grow heavy; he rubbed his eyes with one hand and scratched his stubble with another.
“Almost time for bed,” he mumbled. He got up, collected the pail he had filled just a few hours ago, and poured shovelfuls over the fire. At first, the fire took no notice and continued to burn brightly, but as more and more ash covered the wood, the flames began to fade until only a few embers remained.
The shovel fell into the pail with a loud metallic clunk, and Samuel put it back in its place. There was, however, a slight deviation in his evening ritual; he took several steps out of the cave and scanned his surroundings, looking for any sign of the thief. After five minutes, he was satisfied.
He re-entered the cave and climbed back down the stairs, his footsteps echoing slightly down the corridor’s empty walls. Samuel sat on one of the steps and dragged the slab over the entrance. As the slab cut off more and more light, he took one last moment to examine the cave; it was still and silent but for a crackle made by the firewood.
“A problem for tomorrow” he whispered. The slab was lowered, and the darkness was now total.
Next Chapter
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Back in October of 2023 my mom was served a foreclosure notice because she didn’t pay the HOA. For context she is 54 (and a former Realtor) and I am 22. She immediately listed the house for sale but both buyers she had pulled out of the deal last minute. She decided for some reason to take the property off the market. Since then she has been in and out of jobs, having left for arguably dumb reasons (poor management, people raising their voice at her, etc). Of course she should be respected but in her position she didn’t really have the luxury to quit and be without work. Because I didn’t know when she was going to get evicted I moved out with my dog into my own apartment. I tried to tell her over and over that she needs to get rid of furniture and make the house look presentable. But she feels the need to hold onto everything because they’re family heirlooms. As a result she remains sitting in the house with it not being sold.
She has been working at a restaurant now that is close by (her car got repossessed). She barely makes enough for the cheapest rental in our area so obviously she has not been paying her mortgage or the HOA since she was served that notice. When I try to tell her she needs to be planning how she’s going to move out she claims that they “improperly served” her because her address is confidential but I explain that it doesn’t matter if she’s not paying to live there.
Anyways, this week she called to tell me someone changed the locks. When she called the sheriff they said that they had documents to evict her but she received something in the mail saying that said the auction sale didn’t go through. We called a locksmith and had the locks changed back but I reminded her that this is just a warning of what’s to come and she needs to have a plan of where she’s going to go. Of course she won’t have any money until the property gets sold either by her or on a foreclosure auction.
As I stated I am only 22. I live in a very small studio apartment and she is mentally unstable. I would be willing to let her stay with me for a few weeks until she finds a place but I worry that since she has no vehicle she would struggle to find a place to work. (My apartment is too far from her current job to bike to). I of course don’t want to tell her sorry go be homeless but at a certain point this can’t be my burden to bear. I gave her all of the possible advice months in advance but she chose not to listen. I love her and want to to what I can to help but there’s only so much I can do when I’m barely supporting myself and my dog.
I want to also mention that she has smoked weed and cigarettes for as long as I’ve been alive and her consumption has not stopped since all of these financial troubles despite me telling her it’s not helping her case. She claims she needs them to not lose her mind or for her “pain.”
I know this story is long and all over the place but if you stuck through to the end I would really appreciate some advice. Any advice from a realtoattorney would especially be appreciated.
Thank you.

Im from a small town in Alabamaville and my uncle used to make something he called GHETTI SQUIRREL. It’s spaghetti with half gravy, half tomato sauce and heirloom/grass fed/organic grilled squirrel tenderloin. Are there any restaurants in Denver that have this!? I have all the ingredients at home and know the recipe (also I can cook it better than anyone on earth) but I want to force someone paid 8 dollars an hour to cook it instead.

For those in Blacksburg, here's a rundown of some of this weekend's top events that you can enjoy:
Weekend Rundown of Fun: 1. Beer Tasting with Eastern Divide Vintage Cellar, Blacksburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 4:00 - 7:00 PM Admission: Free Vintage Cellar welcomes Brandon from Blacksburg's own Eastern Divide Brewing Company for a special beer tasting event. Must be ages 21 and older to participate. IDs are required. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777423
2. Pearisburg Community Market 2024 Kickoff with Music at the Market ft. Music from Ride'n Shotgun Band Pearisburg Community & Recreation Center, Pearisburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 5:30 - 7:30 PM Admission: Free The Pearisburg Community Market kicks off their 2024 Music at the Market series featuring the Ride'n Shotgun Band performing . Join them on the front lawn at the Community Center for live music, a variety of unique vendors, get a bite to eat from the Simple Fixins food truck, Hope Church NRV's Hamburger Camp Fundraiser and dessert from Dough Dees or Kimmies Kandy. In addition there will be a free art activity for kids. The Ride'n Shotgun Band is five-member band based in southwest Virginia playing popular country and rock music. Bring a chair or blanket to enjoy. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777443
3. Friday Nights at the Farm with Music from Celie Holmes and Black Coffee Beliveau Farm Winery, Blacksburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 6:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free Join Beliveau in welcoming a special musical guest every Friday night with live music from 6:30 PM to 8:30 PM and sing along to all of your favorite classics. Celie Holmes and Black Coffee perform a well-rounded repertoire of jazz standards, R&B, light rock and more and are based in Virginia. Enjoy food from Beliveau's full service kitchen until 8:30 PM and chat over a glass of wine during their extended bar hours until 9:00 PM. Get a $5 Beliveau Buck to use during your next visit for every $50.00 you spend on Friday nights from 6:00-9:00 PM. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777448
4. Dirt Road Breakdown in Concert Rising Silo Farm Brewery, Blacksburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 6:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free Lee Worley and Bob Chew bring you swamp rocking Americana and classic honky tonk plus originals and enough rock and rockabilly to keep your feet a jumping. This unique duet we'll have you thinking it is a full four-piece band. Drawing from North Mississippi Allstars, Tom Petty, CCR, Black Keys, Muddy Waters, Jack White, Robert Johnson, John Lee Hooker, Rolling Stones, and more. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777072
5. May Bluegrass & Old Time Jam Session Newport Community Center, Newport Friday, May 17, 2024, 7:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free The Newport Community Center presents the Third Friday May Bluegrass & Old Time Jam Session. Bring your instruments and join us for a night of bluegrass and old time music in the cafeteria at the Newport Community Center. This is a family friendly event. Hotdogs, chili, cornbread and BBQ will be available for purchase. The Bluegrass & Old Time Jam Sessions are a monthly event that occur on the first and third Fridays of each month from 7:00 PM to 9:00 PM. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777005
6. Indoor Movie Night featuring The Greatest Showman Chateau Morrisette, Floyd Friday, May 17, 2024, 7:00 - 8:45 PM Admission: Free Chateau Morrisette presents an Indoor Movie Night featuring "The Greatest Showman". Bring the kids and join us for a special evening at the winery with free popcorn. Wine and cheese boards will also be available for purchase. The 2017 biography and musical drama "The Greatest Showman" is rated PG and stars Hugh Jackman, Michelle Wiliams and Zac Efron. Film Synopsis: Celebrates the birth of show business and tells of a visionary who rose from nothing to create a spectacle that became a worldwide sensation. Note: Due to the expected rain, the movie has been moved inside instead of the planned outdoor film. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777279
7. Sarai Sibeal and Alliens in Concert Dogtown Roadhouse, Floyd Friday, May 17, 2024, 8:00 - 11:00 PM Admission: $10.00 Join Dogtown for a fantastic night with two acts that will get you moving. Sarai Sibeal will open the show and will be accompanied by Cameron McLaughlin on bass, Willis Greenstreet on guitar, Janiah Allen on drums, John Pence on keys, and Vladimir Espinosa on percussion for this show. Sarah Bowles, also known as Sarai Sibeal, is a native Roanoker. Merging electro-soul with R&B and world music influences, Sarah crafts a mesmerizing fusion of sound that captivates and engages the audience. Alliens is a powerful Caribbean-funk, world groove sensation led by brothers Jamiel and Janiah Allen that merges diverse world rhythms into a magnetic musical tapestry. The band effortlessly blends rock, reggae, funk, ska, Caribbean soca, electronica, cumbia, and more, creating an infectious sound that defies borders. A cross-cultural blend of sound is rooted deep in their souls from growing and living in foreign lands. Top it off with conscious multi-lingual lyrics and sweet trio harmonies and you get an experience that moves mind, body and soul. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777458
8. 2024 Braveheart 5K Run / Walk Bisset Park, Radford Saturday, May 18, 2024, 7:00 - 11:00 AM Admission: $35.00 Run the the fastest 5k course in the New River Valley and support the American Heart Association in the process courtesy of Runabout Sports and Carilion Clinic. Race day registration is from 7:00-8:00 AM and the 5k starts at 8:30 AM. This race runs along the beautiful New River for its entirety. The course is flat, fast and perfect for setting a personal best or running your first 5k. Participants can register in person at Runabout Sports within the First & Main Shopping Center or online. Awards will be awarded to fastest runners by gender and age group. As part of the Runabout Sports 2024 Race series, you will accumulate points towards overall and age group series awards. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777394
9. 2024 Pearisburg Junior Woman’s Club Junior Jamboree Pearisburg Community & Recreation Center, Pearisburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 9:00 AM - 2:00 PM Admission: Free Donut Dash: Ages 3 & Up: $5.00, Ages 2 & Under: Free The Pearisburg Junior Woman’s Club (PJWC) will be hosting its 2nd Annual Junior Jamboree featuring a wide variety of events. The fun starts off with the Donut Dash from 9:00-10:00 AM in front of the basketball courts and is open to all ages. Participants will stroll along the park trail with tasty donut stops along the half mile trail. They will make their way to the pavilion where gourmet donuts and coffee await. All proceeds from the Donut Dash will help fund the expansion of Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library in Giles County. At 10:00 AM, artists, crafters, local organizations and food trucks will be set up on the lawn of the Pearisburg Community Center. Additionally, enjoy live entertainment from the Giles County School of Dance at 11:00 AM, followed by Dance Motion performing at noon and closing out the entertainment at 1:00 PM is The Honey Drops. The Honey Drops are a young trio of singers (Aubrey Adkins, Ella Butler, and Ky Fury), ages 14, 15, and 16, based out of West Virginia. Their influences are broad, from Fleetwood Mac to the Killers and the Wailin’ Jennys to show tunes. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777273
10. The Little Event (Litter Clean Up) Iron Tree Brewing Company, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 9:00 - 10:00 AM First Beer is 50% Off After Turning In Full Bag of Trash from Little Clean Up Join Iron Tree, Community Pizza, The Grill, and Baking is for lovers for a litter clean up event. Stop by Baking is for Lovers or Iron Tree Brewing between 9:00-10:00 AM to grab an empty grain bag and gloves. Then drive to your favorite park, neighborhood or hang around the brewery and fill up the bag with trash. Then bring the grain bag full of trash back to Iron Tree or The Grill for disposal and grab some lunch and a beverage. Participants, who fill a trash bag and turn it in, will receive 50% off their first beer at Iron Tree. Baking is for Lovers offers 10% off any item, Gardner's Frozen Treats and Gardner’s Frozen Treats will offer 20% off one treat and Gardner's Grill will offer 20% off one entree and Community Pizza will be doing 20% off any pizza during dinner service. The event is rain or shine. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777489
11. 2024 Spring Repair Cafe Habitat for Humanity ReStore, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 10:00 AM - 2:00 PM Admission: Free The New River Valley Timebank and the Habitat for Humanity ReStore presents the 2024 Spring Repair Cafe. Stop by the ReStore for free repairs including sewing for clothes & more, small furniture & appliances, electronics, knife sharpening, plant repotting and more. A Repair Cafe is a free event that promotes repair as an alternative to tossing things out. Give new life to your cherished items. The New River Valley Master Gardener Association will hold a plant clinic in addition to providing assistance to repotting plants (bring your own pots & soil). The New River Valley TimeBank is a project of New River Valley Home, a non-profit that works to foster vibrant, lifespan-friendly communities by connecting people, resources and organizations. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777480
12. Fish Fry Fundraiser New Mount Olive United Methodist Church, Radford Saturday, May 18, 2024, 11:00 AM - 4:00 PM Fish Dinner: $13.00, Fish Sandwich: $6.00, One Piece of Whiting Fish: $3.50 Enjoy a fish fry including your choice of a Fish Dinner, Fish Sandwich or One Piece of Whiting Fish. The Fish Dinner includes two pieces of Whiting Fish, Baked Beans, Coleslaw, Roll and Dessert for $13.00. The Fish Sandwich includes one piece of Whiting Fish on a bun and coleslaw for $6.00. One piece of Whiting Fish is $3.50. A portion of the proceeds will go to the Richie Delaney Memorial Fund to benefit his children. On January 16th, Richard Delaney of Delaney's Kitchen, a restaurant in Fairlawn, passed away unexpectedly. As this is a tough time emotionally on the whole family, it is especially a tragic situation for Richard's three young children. Orders can be called in as well. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777481
13. BrewRidge Music Festival 2024 Mountain Lake Lodge, Pembroke Saturday, May 18, 2024, 12:00 - 5:00 PM General Admission: $20.00, Beer Tasting Tickets: $35.00 Celebrate Virginia craft breweries on Top of the World at Mountain Lake Lodge's 2024 BrewRidge Music Festival. Join them for a day filled with great music, delicious brews, and beautiful views. They will have an array of Virginia microbreweries and musical performances by local old-time Appalachian and bluegrass artists Tennessee Hillbuddies from 12:00-2:00 PM and Jim and Val Gabehart from 2:30-4:30 PM. Concessions will be available for purchase cash only including BBQ, burgers and brats during event. Beer tasting tickets include five full beers. Lodging Packages are also available which includes one night's lodging. Note: This event is cash only for day of event purchases. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=776811
14. Blacksburg Mini Comic-Con B&B Theatres Blacksburg 11, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 12:00 - 5:00 PM Admission: Free Costumes are encouraged and prizes will be handed out throughout the day. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777442
15. Dungeons & Dragons One-Shot Adventure for Ages 8 & Up Blacksburg Library, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 1:00 - 4:00 PM Admission: Free Learn to play Dungeons & Dragons with a one-time adventure. All supplies provided. The time commitment will be about three hours. Children ages 8 and up are welcome with an accompanying adult. Admission is free though registration is required. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777474
16. The Art of Happiness: Bubble Prints Montgomery Museum of Art & History, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 2:00 - 3:30 PM Admission: Free The Montgomery Museum of Art & History presents the third program of The Art of Happiness 2024 series titled "Adopting Animal Characteristics through Clay". The Montgomery Museum of Art & History is bringing back "The Art of Happiness" during May, which is Mental Health Awareness Month. The month long series of events offer self-help coping tactics and strategies by using art exhibits, materials, and spaces as helpful tools to address emotional well-being. On May 18th, the program is "Bubble Prints". Creating calming and fun watercolor-like prints from paint-filled bubbles. Admission is free and all materials will be provided by the museum though registration is required. For adults 18 and older only. No art experience is needed. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=775917
17. Documentary Fundraiser: Butterfly In The Sky Lyric Theatre, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 3:00 - 4:30 PM Admission: $5.00 Enjoy the award-winning documentary "Butterfly In The Sky" about the PBS children's show "Reading Rainbow". Inspiring and nostalgic, "Butterfly in the Sky" tells the tale of a revolutionary reading movement. Reliving the show’s legacy is a refreshing return to the written page. But you don’t have to take our word for it. It will be a fantastic afternoon celebrating books and the love of reading with representatives taking registrations for the Imagination Library program, along with Take and Make Craft bags and information on Summer Reading Programs from the Blacksburg Public Library, a Children's Books Pop-Up and gift card raffle from Blacksburg Books, and a special presentation from Storytime with Joelle. Ticket sale proceeds benefit Dolly Parton's Imagination Library of Montgomery County for local children. Tickets will be available in-person before the film or in advance online. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=77748818. May Flashlight Tour St. Albans, Radford Saturday, May 18, 2024, 5:30 - 7:30 PM Admission: $20.00 St. Albans presents their May Flashlight Tour with registration at 5:30 PM and the tour from 6:00-7:30 PM. The Flashlight Tour is guided and includes a little history and paranormal in one. Hear all the chilling tales of what paranormal investigators, and the public, have encountered within these 120 year old walls. A little bit of history, a little bit of paranormal. Tickets are available online in advance and will be sold at the door provided tickets are still available. Wear comfortable shoes and bring a flashlight as there will be lots of walking and many dark areas. Dress accordingly as the building is not climate controlled. You must be 18 years of age (16 if accompanied by a parent or legal guardian). The monthly Public Paranormal Investigation will occur from 8:00 PM - 1:00 AM with registration at 7:30 PM and is $35.00 for those interested. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777483 19. Spring Fed Roots in Concert Rising Silo Farm Brewery, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 6:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free Spring Fed Roots performs music rooted in the mountains of Southwest Virginia, nourished by the waters and inspired by the beauty. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777073
20. Merchant Copy in Concert The Blue Hen - Family Style Restaurant, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 7:00 - 10:00 PM Admission: $10.00 Merchant Copy is a classic rock & roll and blues band based in Roanoke, VA playing hits from the 70s and 80s. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777441
21. Free Appraisal Day Cambria Station Antiques, Christiansburg Sunday, May 19, 2024, 1:00 - 4:00 PM Admission: Free Join Cambria Station Antiques for a free Appraisal Day to find out what your family heirloom, antiques or vintage items are worth. Valley Auctions, LLC will be on site providing feedback and written appraisals. Guests are limited to one item per person with only small antiques or collectibles. Larger items can be appraised from multiple high quality photos and item dimensions instead of in person. No jewelry at this time. The event is first come, first serve. Note: Some items may require additional research, so appraisals may be sent after the event. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777457
For the live music line-up, visit: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEvents.cfm?ET=1
For all the rest of the big weekend events, visit: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEvents.cfm
Thanks for reading, have a great weekend and don't let the rain stop your fun!

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

1. A house has 16 Letter 1. Wind 2. Rain 3. Sun 4. Air 5. Water 6. Fire 7. Dark 8. Divine 9. Clan 10. Master 11. Ruler 12. Jonnay (Local 1) 13. Tiffany (Local 2) 14. Nathans (Cat 1) 15. Hakes (Cat 2) 16. Davids (Master 1) 1.1 Example House David's Personal House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / y4smvo49kmuf722kfzzw2 / ABFupxIpPjKv0vmUd7rxQ9A ? rlkey = a6bhk3df580yr1at4vs1szsjl & dl = 0 1.2 Lifes System Provision ENHANCE 1.3 Chunks Bar Grill Simalcrafood 1.4 Exterior Houses 1.4.1 Exterior House Kitchen 1.4.2 Exterior House Bed 1.4.3 Exterior House Hidden Toilet 1.4.4 2 Extra Exterior Houses 1.4.5 Full Pay To Play Casino 1.4.6 Trade with Our Minerals Dealer 1.4.7 Terrabrew Coffee Hidden Packet 1.4.8 Tranquiltea THC Spice 1.4.9 Use our Garbage Bin to Throw Away A Terrabrew Cup 1.5.0 Vend with the Terrabrew Machine some Fats And Weed (Coffee) 1.5.1 Spaceport Transit, Transit to Another Port 1.5.2 Example House Fred Falke's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / qg0z8tppgw0ojnv6zrl8z / ALcPH9JQjt0y0TTBVI2nvig ? rlkey = lmlb24is14pgouc2senxyqs4q & dl = 0 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 1.5.3 Exterior Cosmarium - Includes Outer Space Adventure 1.5.4 Interior 4 Bedroom House 1.5.5 Toilets To Upstairs 1.5.6 Cosmarium Access 1.5.7 Interior Den Accessible at Cosmarium 1.5.8 Cosmarium Includes Planets Display 1.5.8 Example House Keyanu's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 4q14v79pgg5sstq326dm0 / AFsD7QWvqv0-EnefhjuqWJ0 ? rlkey = csonjdhbhw5y065pcqu44bhp5 & dl = 0 1.5.9 Nice Lawn and Grill 1.6.0 Foyer Main Access 1.6.1 5 Bedroom Studio Included 1.6.2 Toilets Individual Every Room 1.6.3 Intrinsic Kitchen 1.6.4 Standard 16 Bar Oxygen 8 Lumen System 1.6.5 6 Unique Instruments In Studio and PC In Most Rooms 1.6.6 Clothes Stocked in Every Room 1.6.7 Payday's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / y5f4zeq9rqfxf9z2wvn3x / AF1XzGXYmhFLadEONmz9f60 ? rlkey = 947afvpm4ysgt1sl3rnzk7k1c & dl = 0 1.6.8 Dog Run 1.6.9 Intrinsic Grill 1.7.0 Foyer and Toilet for Foyer 1.7.1 Piano Room 1.7.2 Upstairs with Three Bedroom 1.7.3 Downstairs with Two Bedroom 1.7.4 Two Upstairs Bath 1.7.5 Standard 16 Bar Oxygen 8 Lumen System 1.7.6 Pingpong Table Included 1.7.7 Full Rock Tunnel To Dogland 1.7.8 Dogland Mailman and Dogland Delivery 1.7.9 PCs and Clothes Included 1.8.0 Science Coin Plus House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / th8s8y2cvm53v4ihjz7uf / AOpx9h9DweYWyg8oTURDb7Y ? rlkey = gazzoslez39f6tv43ckp7q82h & dl = 0 1.8.1 Full Back and Front Yard 1.8.2 Interior 3 Bedroom Upstairs 2 Bedroom Downstairs Classic Modern House 1.8.3 Kitchen With LIGHTS Smell 1.8.4 Full Penetrating Aroma Diffusor 1.8.5 Downstairs Bunker 1.8.6 Standard 16 Bar Pressure 8 Lumen Setup 1.8.7 Includes Credit Card Of 4000 Dollar Limit Tied to the Property 1.8.8 Includes Access token to local utilities and stores 1.8.9 Includes 1 Car Garage and street parking 1.9.0 Treasurer Martin's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / i25kajtfyq7rsbley4zcv / AD2UVKeX9RxIgErDuntigR0 ? rlkey = i8r6ykg6vsm1r4o7r5tu0spkw & dl = 0 1.9.1 4 Bedroom Fatboy Slim House 1.9.2 Private Toilets for Each Room 1.9.3 Community Secret Upstairs Gathering Area 1.9.4 Full 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 1.9.5 Includes Kitchen In Break Room 1.9.6 Clothes in Every Room 1.9.7 PC In Every Room 1.9.8 Music Area in Gathering Area 1.9.9 Stocked With Crew Connor, Duncan, Yung Bae, Ievan 2.0.0 Tweak's New House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 6gpljpd8w7xnk5qxsztux / AAcWFry56HLFgSFNipowiRg ? rlkey = 9dg7vuqr6dvebo6lowbataxys & dl = 0 2.0.1 Foyer and Backyard and Upstairs and Kitchen 2.0.2 Standard South Park Layout 2.0.3 Toy Chest Included in Bedroom 2.0.4 Upstairs Bathroom 2.0.5 Downstairs Television 2.0.6 Includes Parents Room 2.0.7 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 2.0.8 Full Plumbing System 2.0.9 Closet Included 2.1.0 Virtual Riot Energy Drink Contest Home https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 9tcvy80bq4gvngv7zew0j / AOAsl2olcanfLMIxKpJhbK4 ? rlkey = 6ur44i4wb14mmwjdhof4awqcw & dl = 0 2.1.1 Upstairs 4 Bedroom 4 Bath Downstairs Kitchen With Lawn 2.1.2 Included 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 2.1.3 Fitted for Contest Winner Ryan 2.1.4 Includes Interior Music Studio 2.1.5 Includes Rations At the Kitchen 2.1.6 Full House Lawn 2.1.7 Includes Virtual Riot Energy Drink Crate 2.1.8 Includes full Kitchen Cooking System 2.1.9 Does not include Pizza Box 2.2.0 First Edition Baths https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 070erahxtx6kheqkq7viv / h ? rlkey = 8vejr3pfkskq104e5da51ocgm & dl = 0 2.2.1 Full Ryuken Style Retreat 2.2.2 American Style 2.2.3 Hyaluronic Water Display 2.2.4 Multiple Accessible Toilets 2.2.5 Hostel Home Associated 2.2.6 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 2.2.7 Associated to Virtual Riot Energy Drink Contest House 2.2.8 Full Plumbing 2.2.9 Only Outdoor Pool 2.3.0 Mandelbrot's Portion https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 4rsa861mh57tv6ibiqc7f / AHer3vgPNYOdj8UR3q4atNI ? rlkey = sx4nhltlh6mqmzw8s9cbay4ei & dl = 0 2.3.1 Full 4 Bedroom 4 Bath Lakeside House 2.3.2 Intrinsic Music Studio 2.3.3 Standard 16 Bar Oxygen 8 Lumen System 2.3.4 Plumbing for Every Bath 2.3.5 Connector Upstairs Adjoiner 2.3.6 Included Medical Access 2.3.7 Clothes in Every Room 2.3.8 PC in Most Rooms 2.3.9 Reserved Canadian Graveyard Spot 2.4.0 Tim Garza's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / exy2mkx34e4vyyx3gm9zm / ANDv3_B38xt2wFxTfjpMvy8 ? rlkey = nzhtm8ozk9azxem7bgvcrx1pw & dl = 0 2.4.1 Nonstandard 14 Bar High Altitude 8 Lumen System 2.4.2 Comes with Additional House Patrick's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / g556jmzhsi70ikjcdsm8c / AOypud9QDtb5h5ELYoZQxxk ? rlkey = 7obp5svlq35q6kz7rw6ejhrer & dl = 0 2.4.3 Nonstandard 14 Bar High Altitude 8 Lumen System 2.4.4 4 Bedroom and 3 Bedroom House with 2 Bath and 1 Bath 2.4.5 Part of a development with further 2 Houses 2.4.6 Plumbing for Every Bath 2.4.7 Other two houses not for sale 2.4.8 Comes with Clothes in Every Bedroom and A PC In every bedroom 2.4.9 Comes with Kitchen in both house 2.5.0 KPOP House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 0gn89hioxlhy99hkeofl y / AOQJj6Q60JxCyfzn_Zqqh04 ? rlkey = 8997eg0yi4to9l05wocrnol53 & dl = 0 2.5.1 Kpop contest House, 4 Bedroom 4 Bath house with Upstairs Adjoiner 2.5.2 Plumbing for every baths 2.5.3 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 2.5.4 Comes with intrinsic music studio 2.5.5 Comes with clothes in every bedroom 2.5.6 Comes with PC in every bedroom 2.5.7 Comes with KPOP Marketing display tool 2.5.8 Comes with participation in radio contest 2.5.9 Music tape recorder not included 2.6.0 Intellisecure Headquarters https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / takyluondf4y22byxxkfk / AN6ShFOeGYooczDEjm8zt88 ? rlkey = 77dycju3q87ayh61ci4qlhu57 & dl = 0 2.6.1 A girl, Other Ryan, is getting surgery for her melanoma outside 2.6.2 The girl responds well to her melanoma surgery 2.6.3 There is an upstairs to the hospital 2.6.4 There are maybe 4 rooms to the hospital 2.6.5 There are toilets in each room side room 2.6.6 The girl presumably makes her way to beds in the hospital after surgery 2.6.7 There is a standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System throughout 2.6.8 There are various medical equipment needed for the girl in the main area 2.6.9 The girl might use the toilet upstairs behind the door 2.7.0 Fries' Sama-House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / zlrtcq60lnqxj7ic3cae9 / AFed_Pfio_u8Mv3_ktBn2iE ? rlkey = 5y095iaxti5w863uzuaoaa8iv & dl = 0 2.7.1 A 3 Bedroom 1 Bath Downstairs 2 Bedroom 1 Bath Upstairs House with a Dojo Outside 2.7.2 Some people have been partying in the basement 2.7.3 There is a standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System at high altitude indicating conditioned air 2.7.4 There is a toilet room in the dojo 2.7.5 There is a TV room with a TV in it 2.7.6 There is a PC and a TV in the Downstairs Bedroom 2.7.7 There is some crates of food near the kitchen 2.7.8 There is a downstairs kitchen 2.7.9 There is a whole downstairs area where Fries' Son has another bedroom and some couches 2.8.0 Borat's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / qv6mgav9tsizmepwmp8es / AMoiFypY85vOMfnKU1lwduY ? rlkey = muh8z5z7gfql71vb9b820bf4q & dl = 0 2.8.1 A very old house in kalmskya with the ownership of the town store 2.8.2 There is one toilet in the house 2.8.3 There is the neighbor's house 2.8.4 There is the store that borats family owns 2.8.5 The neighbors house has a toilet 2.8.6 Borat lives with his sister 2.8.7 There is standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System given at the house or elsewhere 2.8.8 There is goods at the store including potato and cigarrete 2.8.9 This house actually is not for sale 2.9.0 Jamal's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / jkaaa7dar68oaewd5klys / AK9ZJNVKArzUiGKT_gyPOFw ? rlkey = ie92hphxup1b4bz48f31pubed & dl = 0 2.9.1 Set of 4 Houses 2.9.2 Baths included in each house with plumbing 2.9.3 Standard 14 Bar 8 Lumen High Altitude System 2.9.4 Main Room to Each House 2.9.5 Side Room with TV to each house 2.9.6 Clothes in each bedroom 2.9.7 PC in each bedroom 2.9.8 Back Yard House with Jordan In it 2.9.9 Included marketing display 3.0.0 Centennial Retirement Home https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / dh6hgc85048bdnzv4976u / AC8LJyFV-erivp2kmxCifxA ? rlkey = jt54mis1nytwit9mfmpfdb2h0 & dl = 0 3.0.1 Eight Patient Retirement Home 3.0.2 Medical Provisions Provided 3.0.3 Personell Capacity 16 Bar and 8 Lumen System 3.0.4 Malfunctioning Exterior Toilet 3.0.5 Gymnasium and Kitchen and Pepsi Machine and Mess 3.0.6 Secure Patient Checkin with Scan System 3.0.7 Poor Right Side Adult Ward Baths 3.0.8 Adolescents Ward Can Conceal Marijuana 3.0.9 Good Oxygenation Conditioning 3.1.0 Dubstep Challenge Island https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / l5y84ufg7p5ou9bkp5y8y / AEa_4z_e7YiJp2UzkfI7OWw ? rlkey = l08yxiqn4s7k1c8lilai7y1j4 & dl = 0 3.1.1 Nuerohop out of the boat into the island mainland, avoid the wilderness! 3.1.2 Get safety to Korbis and Putin and Efe on the Dubstep Challenge 3.1.3 3 Room 1 Trap 3 Bath House Provided with Upstairs Connector 3.1.4 Kitchen and Apparatus Provided 3.1.5 First Banned From The Island Leave Up at Docks 3.1.6 Full Music Studio Included with Beachhouse 3.1.7 Some Dogs Lurk in the Wilderness On The Island 3.1.8 No Specific Oxygen Line Provided for Waste 3.1.9 Found DJ Tool in Boilerroom 3.2.0 Justin Beiber's Mom's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / s8guwv5jph98kbxwq8z9v / ADWyXiZtcTzC3myr3ZHJIOc ? rlkey = upizj57oo5t7fdx9egx113cgp & dl = 0 3.2.1 Classic Industrial Area Flat 3.2.2 Included Industrial Area Food Anglomerate Output 3.2.3 Beiber's Mom's House 1 Bedroom 1 Bath Flat Provided, Foyer Room, Kitchen, Bathroom, Bedroom 3.2.4 Beiber Child PC Text Trainer 3.2.5 Clothes In Bedroom 3.2.6 Plumbed Bathroom 3.2.7 16 Bar 8 Lumen System Provided 3.2.8 Childs Studio Provided 3.2.9 Standard Canadian Education Recomended 3.3.0 IRKLUNDANDER Commune https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / bgmfrbvkvh74qg739uqou / AGrF-BK-eA5GRxom5oI71KM ? rlkey = mbswm151h8ozh73ptt59g2s2m & dl = 0 3.3.1 3 Vox Trainer Reality Show Houses Made of Aluminum Glass 3.3.2 Toilet Included in Secret Room Beneath House 3.3.3 Community Toilet included in main area side room 3.3.4 Rations in every house 3.3.5 Space heater in every house 3.3.6 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 3.3.7 In a Winter Wonderland Area 3.3.8 Includes Clothes 3.3.9 Includes PC 3.4.0 Tim Garza's House 2 https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 4y216z2iddjpq2llkk4r9 / ACsSuQdkhToPeo-gUq4VuyM ? rlkey = 7tii9866lgyo4qy4jsshtfziu & dl = 0 3.4.1 Similar Format to Tim Garza's House 3.4.2 Includes 2 Bath 4 Bedroom 1 Community Kitchen House 3.4.3 Includes 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 3.4.4 Includes Plumbing for each Bathroom 3.4.5 Includes Appliances for the kitchen 3.4.6 Includes back and front yard entrance 3.4.7 Includes basement and clothes in every room 3.4.8 Includes tim garzas K-Workstation 3.4.9 Includes Heirloom Tomato grow actual tomato in back yard 3.5.0 JK Rowling's Castle https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / xnov07r1vsy8lgr2s7e9q / AHMvwcVoLRce2t-8bl6HMXA ? rlkey = kvh0aaz6js1gv15r3x4omf7yz & dl = 0 3.5.1 Full Castle With Dungeon and Great Hall and Dormitories in the Style of the Movie 3.5.2 Separate from castle built for movie 3.5.3 3 Classrooms moved from the set of the movie 3.5.4 Many 4 Bathrooms With Plumbing 3.5.5 Includes Hogsmeade Buildings on Grounds 3.5.6 Shrieking Shack, Three Broomsticks, and Igor's Tavern in Hogsmeade 3.5.7 Actual Hidden Tunnel to The Shrieking Shack 3.5.8 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 3.5.9 Appropriate dormitories for players of the movie 3.6.0 The Flavor Isles https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 8vyh83ce11kf5pb2gwadv / ANsJbcJKKeQI384oE8Se5UM ? rlkey = puoqw30lgu5zhk6erk9yc4s90 & dl = 0 3.6.1 Flavor Themed Disneyland Resort in Joey's Basement 3.6.2 Massive Spicy Shrieking Hut Cuisine and Other Classics 3.6.3 Stay in for a night at a 4 bedroom 4 bath resort hotel 3.6.4 Plumbing for Every bath 3.6.5 16 Bar 8 Lumen Classic System 3.6.6 Use clothes or a PC at the bedroom 3.6.7 Double Depth, Go to the next ride at the next depth 3.6.8 4 Bedroom 4 Bath House in the Hidden Area and another Restaurant 3.6.9 Full Service Recycling 3.7.0 Rented Ice Hotel https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / ddk5zf8729uaiebclbb1o / AIqBsidXAXrTQXi-PCxWdNA ? rlkey = o9yjupq7b823imenx1ybucpzl & dl = 0 3.7.1 One Room Ice Hotel 3.7.2 Made out of Ice 3.7.3 Has Bathroom and Plumbing 3.7.4 Has Ice display 3.7.5 Agnes' Ice Hotel 3.7.6 Real 5 Copy Build Method 3.7.7 16 Bar 8 Lumen Limited Oxygen System 3.7.8 Has Kitchen in Ice Hotel 3.7.9 Has Marijuana In Ice Hotel 3.8.0 Dorisburg's House https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / qy5sgm3j89td9n7g1i5r5 / AA0m-DE6cmlNiFKbL0baT5c ? rlkey = mtmlf5198napxkl3i75hvpnjo & dl = 0 3.8.1 4 Bedroom 4 Bath House With Interior Kitchen and Back Yard 3.8.2 Plumbing for Every Bath 3.8.3 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 3.8.4 Telivision Room and Telivision 3.8.5 Downstairs Television 3.8.6 Beds in Every Bedroom 3.8.7 Back Yard With Vegetable Grow 3.8.8 Front Yard Access Through Waterjet Channel 3.8.9 Dedicated Oxygen Line for Television Aerial 3.9.0 Bahn Mi Village https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / ovm5lhsgogw4rspchx9to / h ? rlkey = 0n4sdcyb8qi3ebolbab708fgc & dl = 0 3.9.1 Community 4 Hut Village 3.9.2 Standard Lavatory for Village 3.9.3 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 3.9.4 Transit to Another Village, Daft Vox Village https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / ipyuy0vuqpyfzjymcbfkq / AP4Iset5VTAue8bZeWvWqwg ? rlkey = wqs4a2bbqym8qi8eyum96uqcl & dl = 0 3.9.5 Multiple Buildings in Daft Vox Village 3.9.6 Full 16 Bar 8 Lumen System Also In Daft Vox Village 3.9.7 Possible Nice Buildings in Daft Vox Village 3.9.8 Transit Provided Between Village 3.9.9 No Medical 4.0.0 Burma Village https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / hzm7gtq590pu9e1a9u9mb / AJriN2hXiHX7crTIXRThKXs ? rlkey = kf197unmk5ol7luu4mrsby970 & dl = 0 4.0.1 Nice 5 Building Town 4.0.2 Standard 16 Bar 8 Lumen System 4.0.3 Food in Some Houses 4.0.4 Scheming Old Man Putin in Burma Village 4.0.5 Kings Palace 4.0.6 Dusty Banquet in the Palace 4.0.7 Multiple Areas To All Houses 4.0.8 Trade with Putin 4.0.9 Trade for Gambling 4.1.0 Wojak Station https : // www . dropbox . com / scl / fo / 3bjjwhkgpxichahc1naxn / ACH0V5oQrWm0dsUzjeW4fso ? rlkey = z01f8v8k2hhc5z0ace0940ny7 & dl = 0 4.1.1 Full Space Adventure 4.1.2 Includes House 4.1.3 Includes Plumbing 4.1.4 Includes Cars Parked Outside Your House 4.1.5 Includes Taza's House 4.1.6 Full House Interior 4.1.7 Multiple Houses Done 4.1.8 Kitchen System To House 4.1.9 Full Bath System.

Years ago I ate at a favorite french restaurant where they had a dish that was described to me as "tomato confit." I've tried to replicate it a few times and while I got _some_ OK results, I'd say I failed. As tomato season begins, I want to give it another try.
Served as a first course, their menu described it as "Tomato, Black Garlic, Date & Anise." I believe the version I tried had strawberry. It's incredibly soft with a rich almost (but not quite) roasted tomato taste. Of course you also get some sweetness from the fruit and mild black garlic.
This is what it looks like: https://imgur.com/a/G99z8gI
Most of the tomato confit recipes I've looked up essentially just have you throw your tomatoes in a baking dish with olive oil, salt & pepper (maybe some other spices or aromatics) and bake em for ~90 minutes @ 300F. This doesn't produce the result I'm looking for. Not quite the softness, sometimes slightly charred skins, more oily. Theirs is also in more of a broth. Not sure if that's coming from the tomato or is part of some other process.
Likewise, this version doesn't have any skin. I'm not sure if they're blanching the tomatoes to remove the skin first or just plucking them off tomato halves when they come out of the oven. Are they submerging them entirely in oil, or some sort of stock as well? When it comes to the dates and black garlic, is that part of the confit process or done after?
I feel like I can get the tomato texture / taste down with some experimentation. Probably low and slow, but how low and how slow? Halve them or whole? How do we get that broth? Any advice would be appreciated. I've combed through countless recipes and haven't found anything close. They use heirlooms from a vendor at the local farmer's market.
This is just for my own personal enjoyment but I figured I'd be better of asking the pros at this point.

Is it too much for me to expect my partner to listen to my casual talk? I was relaying a conversation that I had with a mutual friend, not super vital information that my SO needed know but also not trivial blather.
This was in the car, a 10 minute drive on Sunday morning. I tell him about what my friend and I said, it took about 45 seconds. He's on his phone, half listening. "Wait who said something about that? And our friend was the one upset about it? Oh the other person was upset, and why was that again? When was this? Wait what happened again?"
SO wasn't doing anything important. I don't expect his attention when he's working or otherwise legitimately occupied. But this was a short car ride, I'm driving, he's tinkering on his phone, texting. It's not that my communication skills are unclear, but he keeps asking clarifying questions because he obviously wasn't paying attention. After which I just gave up and told him how irritating it was that he can't pay attention to what I say, that answering the questions takes longer than telling the original story, that if I just repeat the original story he gets offended that I treat him like he can't understand me.
He does this far too often, and I told him it makes me feel like I'm not important. It makes me wonder why I should even bother to speak to him about anything that is not pure informational exchange. We'll even go out on dates and half the time he's distracted on his phone. For example, we were on a date at a Peruvian restaurant and they had a drink made with heirloom corn. Well now he's neck deep into reading about South American history of indigenous farming practices and fermentation of ancient grains. So I'm left sitting there silently like an asshole staring into space. And then he'll turn around and wonder why he feels disconnected with me, why I'm suddenly not exuberantly happy to be hanging out with him.
What am I supposed to do? Am I wrong for feeling disrespected that he doesn't pay attention to me when I speak? In the past I've answered all his follow up questions, which results in the original storytelling to be not as amusing or informative or whatever. Or I'll repeat the entire story which results in him being mad that I'm treating him "like an idiot," as if I'm insulting his intelligence when I repeat small parts that he remembers hearing. This time I finally told him I'm not repeating something that isn't worth my breath repeating, but is insulting to me that he couldn't pay attention to the first time around.
It's like I'm damned if I do try to have casual conversations with him, and I'm damned if I don't because then I'm accused it being distant and being at fault for not putting in the effort to maintain a close relationship with him.

Does the game progress into the lives of the characters or does it just continue this way always? Like for example do paige and elfie start dating? rosemary get better? possibly start dating tsuki? pipi gets her phone or starts going to school? maybe in the city there is a school? maybe momo and bobo finally sort things out and open a bigger restaurant? the racoon thief gets caught and returns a heirloom that belonged to tsuki?
i am just making a web series at this point lmao but i really want to see progress in their lives

Someone told me I should write up my sensory processing disorder issues and how I handle them. It turned out to be a lot of text.
So I'm plopping it here in case it might help others.
Sensory Processing Disorder, sensory aggravants, how I deal
What increases physical effects of sensory aggravants Stress, physical or emotional. Being rushed. Pregnancy. Accutane/other medication for acne. Antibiotics. Job interview. Harsh criticism. Being shouted/screamed/yelled at/shamed. Being hit/spanked/shamed as a child, especially by adults who accused and did not listen to my impressions of what happened because “talking back is disrespectful”. Inability to communicate personal needs or traumatic personal events due to lack of descriptive words/understanding/communication barrier. Recent loss, breakup, death of human or pet. Permanent loss of valuable objects/needs, whether monetary or emotional (ex: only inherited heirloom of stolen, house burned down). Housing/food instability. Physical illness. Recent medical procedure. Recent dental procedure. Dilation of eyes. Recent immunization. Multiple sensory aggravants at once. Being unable to stop or escape sensory aggravant. Having my period. Clutter.
Skin aggravant
aggravant: Coarse hair of any length, especially stubble, especially where skin folds in on itself. On my body, that is underarms/vulva/between breasts/hair on back of neck.
Physical reaction: Each individual hair feels like small sharp bristles.
What happens if I ignore it: I want to scream or cry. Visible red marks on skin, often. Full body shudders, as if experiencing forced tickling. Burning, itching sensation where the hair stubble is.
Solution: shave, wax, epilate frequently. Shave armpits daily. For me, the hair between buttocks is not a sensory issue if it is left to grow untrimmed.
Aggravant: Stubble on legs
What I feel: each individual hair catches knits, tighter clothing, rayon, leggings, tights, gets pulled. When I kneel or lay in bed, stubble against legs feels like sandpaper.
What happens if I ignore it: I want to punch something. It gets itchy. Usually red substantial red marks on lower legs. I have screamed.
Solution: hair removal frequently, wear looser pants, palazzo pants, bell bottoms, jeans. Never, ever wear leggings, tight pants, fitted pants. Never wear hose, tights, nylons. Keep razor and tweezers on hand for hair removal. Apply Gold Bond healing lotion to itching areas. When I find comfortable clothing, I buy them in all the colors. Epilation pulls hair out by the roots so it is less irritating as it grows in, however epilation hurts quite a bit to begin with. I do it in stages and take long breaks when my body starts shaking from the pain.
Issue: Dry Skin
What I feel: My dry skin cracks and catches on textiles/floochairs/socks/whatever. It hurts.
Solution: Gold Bond healing lotion. Also Cerave products and unflavored, unscented lip balm.
Issue: Scented things, basically all, but for some odd reason fresh or dried food products usually are fine. Essential oils, nope.
What I feel: Sprayed air freshener and car air fresheners make me nauseous. When I was pregnant, everything stank and everything made me throw up.
Solutions: Avoid air fresheners. Open windows, if air outside is fresh. There are phone apps that people use to decide when to run outside. Usually if the air quality is marked as “good” on those, it is safe to open windows. Use unscented soap/deoderant/personal products. When I find a candle that does not make me nauseous, I buy plenty of them. During pregnancy, all trash had to be taken out as quickly as possible. Food was generally eaten cold, as heat spreads the smells around. Heating a bowl of vinegar in the microwave then letting it sit out cut lots of smells. Cat litter needed scooped immediately and changed at least twice a month. There is some kind of spray thingie that I forget name of, a friend got it at a smoke shop. It cut smells from neighbor’s smoking cigarettes/weed. Using an enzymatic cleaner on pet stains helped.
Aggravant: Hair on head long enough to curl under and touch forehead or back of neck
What I feel: Individual hairs touching forehead itch. I scratch it.
What happens if I ignore it: I will scratch area until it hurts to make it stop itching. As a child, I cut my hair very poorly, very short to stop the itching. I will scratch it until it bleeds.
Solution: I maintain a short pixie haircut. Personally I hire a good hairstylist, find one, and stick to them. Others simply buzz-cut their hair.
Aggravant: Textures and fiber
Specific textures: velvet, all types. Cotton balls, all. Pipe cleaners, all. Most polyester fleece. Most tags. Most thick seams. All overlapped leather seams. Some printed on fabric tags, especially on older well-worn clothes where the paint-ink has melted into a rough texture. All non-cotton and non-rayon laces. Most ribbons. Most fuzzy things. Serged/overlocked seams, if done with polyester thread (In general, the thread is polyester if it does not exactly match the color of the clothing. Polyester thread is difficult to dye. On other clothing, feel the seams to see if they are a little bit rough, and look for threads that are one solid color). Wool, all. Seams in stiffer jeans, all. Elastic, all. Small bits of rubber, elastic poking through covered covered seams. Smocked outfits, all. Most ruched outfits, those with covered ruching seams and nothing poking through excepted. Nylons, hose, tights, all.
What I feel: Velvet, cotton balls, polyester fleece, pipe cleaners cause a “nails on chalkboard” shudder. Seams, rough texture, wool, ribbons, laces, small bits of elastic or rubber sticking through causes a burning itch. Nylons, hose, tights cause a burning heat that alternates with cold prickles through my lower legs. Toe seams on socks. During pregnancy, most sheets felt like sleeping on sandpaper.
What happens if I ignore it: I will scratch area until it hurts to make it stop itching. I will get red or bleeding marks on skin. I will have difficulty focusing on anything. I have cried uncontrollably. I have screamed. I unconsciously reach to where tags/seams/rough areas are and scratch. I will scratch the skin under that areas that itch until my skin bleeds, because I prefer the sensation of pain over the sensation of itching.
Solution: I buy my clothes with feel and by fiber. Rayon, bamboo, viscose, cotton, silk, and linen are usually safe. Looser clothes. Drawstring closures instead of elastic. Avoid ruching, lace, ribbons, nylons, hose, tights, wool. Buy underwear with covered elastic. Wear underwear and clothing with rougher seams inside-out. Complete removal of tags from all clothes—I have to cut open seams by removing the stitches, remove every last bit of tags from clothing and stitch it back up. Simply cutting the tag flush with the seam still leaves a bit of the tag touching my skin, causes redness/itching/sores. Use camisoles of at least 95% cotton or other natural fiber, worn seam-side out, for bra. Look for clothing recommended for people undergoing chemotherapy or radiation. I look for softer stretch jeans without a thick waist band and wide/boot cut/bell-bottom cut. For bedding, I use 100% cotton sheets with 300 thread count and preferably long staple cotton. For jewelry, I look for anything I can wear and forget that I am wearing. Soft leather cuff bracelets, solid sterling or solid gold pieces or solid brass pieces. My body is sensitive to the rest.
Aggravant: Hyperhydrosis, also known as “I sweat more than most people”
What causes it: my body has always sucked at regulating its temperature. When I hiked in the woods as a kid, I would come back soaked in sweat while other kids wearing the same kinds of clothes as me had no sweat. When participating in winter sports, my body sweats and the sweat freezes into ice against my feet/core/hands/face. Every day, palms get soaked while holding hands or objects, often wet enough for phone/tablet/objects to get dropped. The soles of my feet sweat so much they slip off yoga mats, slide off flip-flops and sandals. Armpits sweat, dripping sweat within hours of waking up. Sweat drips down chest/back within 60 seconds of exposure to temperature greater than 80 Fahrenheit.
What happens if I ignore it: People holding my hand let go and wipe their wet palms off, making an “ew” face. Phones have been destroyed by dropping. I’ve slipped/fallen from wet soles of feet sliding off footwear. Shirts soaked by sweat within minutes. Huge armpit sweat stains. Looking unprofessional in professional settings. Social awkwardness when I am supposed to shake hands. Yellow armpit stains on lighter colored clothing. Solutions:
Armpit sweat—use of Certain Dry antiperspirant daily after showering. Drying off wet armpits throughout day. Washing armpits with strong soap, occasionally alcohol hand sanitizer. Mitchum deodorant, several applications throughout day. Frequent covert sniffing armpits to see if I stink. Post-Covid destroying my sense of smell, asking trusted friends/family occasionally to see if I stink. Daily/twice daily showers. Purchasing tops with larger armscythes/armpit holes/one size up so fabric does not touch sweaty armpits. Wearing loosesleeveless tops in summer. Minimizing light colored clothing because sweat stains are real. Frequent scrubbing of armpits because build-up of deodorants is a thing. Avoiding roll-on deodorant, as that stuff feels like I dumped honey on my armpits. I tried the hippie crystal deodorant thingie all the ways, it does not work for me.
Overall body sweat in general: Limiting clothing to natural fibers—cotton, rayon, bamboo, viscose, linen, silk. Wool works well for some, not me. Long staple wool works for others, too, not for me. Avoiding all polyester mix fabrics as a base layer unless specifically woven to wick. Polyester makes natural fibers warmer, causing more sweat. I choose polyester-cotton mix for hoodies because warmth. Using a jacket or cardigan that can be removed as needed. Applying cornstarch powder, thin layer, to folds before sweating. Applying Certain Dry antiperspirant immediately post-shower to skin folds if I will be outdoor in heat in a professional setting. Otherwise tucking t-shirt into camisole to absorb sweat dripping down my back/stomach. Yes, I look weird. If I pretend I do not care, others pretend they do not care and we get along fine. Avoiding wearing layered tops, with the exception of a jacket/cardigan. Avoiding/minimizing clothing that is fitted and light-colored. Avoiding outdoors during heat of day. Was unable to feel comfortable with heat/sweat/etc., so did not attain my dream career. Instead pursued career that has me working air-conditioned settings. Some people get Botox injections to stop sweat. I have tried prescription strength deodorant on hands to stop hand sweat, this did not work for me.
Foot sweat: Summer footwear—Chaco sandals with the toe strap, have to frequently adjust toe strap to minimize strangling of big toe. Sandals made of leather with zero man-made/”vegan leather” facing of leather work well, too, as leather absorbs sweat. I read ingredients tag on shoe, avoid any sandals that say “man-made leather uppers”. Moccasin with real leather sole inside that does not have a “ledge” of leather on the foot sole. Etsy shop TreadLightGear product Raw Cut Inca Moccasin with Vibram Sole has been my go-to, the product is pricy at $270 for a pair. My pair was purchased four years ago, remains working well. Requires leather cleaning products/leather conditioning care about twice yearly. I had to send my pair back to have sole shortened. Lightweight mesh shoes for sneakers. Grippy foot socks and hand mitts when doing yoga. Have tried multiple allegedly wicking socks, so far socks with over 65% cotton work best for me. Wool socks do not work for me due to wool sensitivity. Have not found hiking boots that work for me.
Outdoor winter activities leaving me soaked in sweat, have not found a solution. Possible solution could be wicking silk underwear. Dharma Trading Company has silk knit underwear starting at around $15 per item for tops, I have not yet tried their products.
Hand sweat: I minimize holding hands, found a significant other who is cool with breaks to wipe sweat off during hand holding. I covertly wipe my hand prior to shaking hands.
Sounds Aggravants: Loud music/concert/noise I cannot escape or turn down or shut off. Constant background noise with words that I cannot understand, such as a radio turned down low in another room. Crying/fussing/calls of distress from any human or animal. Constant whooshing noise, such as toilet running, ceiling fan. Anything with a heavy beat I can physically feel in my body. Most white noise. Any high-pitched constant squeak such as comes from an older TV/computer monitor. Repeated higher-pitched unvaried bird/bug calls. Cicada chirps. Shouting/yelling/screaming. High pitched, strident voices. Loud voices. Voices at full-volume near my ear. Loud speakers. Alarms, all. All sound sensitivity is increased when I have earaches/ear infection/itchy ear canals, all of which are common with my body. With an ear infection in front of a loud industrial speaker during a calmly spoken sermon at church, it felt as though someone hammering my internal eardrums. With changes in altitude, it feels as though someone is shoving chopsticks into my ears, worse if active ear issues. Sharp sounds in echo-ey locations, gives the chopsticks-jamming-into-eardrums sensation. Tinnitus, which I have continuously in both ears. There are two different pitches, one in each ear. Sitting in a silent room makes the tinnitus louder.
What happens if I ignore it: After ten to fifteen minutes, I become jittery and must fight against yelling, screaming, or snapping. I begin to physically shake. After around 30 minutes, I have intrusive suicidal thoughts. I have screamed with extended exposure. I have taken apart particularly malfunctioning radios that made terrible sounds, and used the speaker magnets like so many hunting trophies on my fridge. I have smashed things satisfyingly, very carefully, only things that can be replaced. With whooshing sounds, I get an uncontrollable random full body shudder. Once this happened during a haircut, and the hair stylist treated me like a pervert afterwards, so now I warn stylists that I get full body shudders.
Solution: For constant background noise I cannot escape, one earbud in my ear playing music/podcast/audiobook I can focus on helps a lot. Lacking that, one foam ear-plug squished long and thin lengthwise then pushed into ear canal leaving a bit out, and left to expand makes noise tolerable. There are specialized ear plugs used by musicians in orchestra pits, I have not tried these yet. On earbuds, I listen to BBC radio. The most soothing podcast for me personally is “In Our Time” by the BBC. I also use Audible and library card with app Libby for free audiobooks, and search social media/Reddit/blogs/web search for deep voiced/lower pitched/soothing narrators. The Vaughan Williams Academy of St Martin-in-the-fields Neville Marriner 1972 album is particularly calming. I do not know why the higher pitches on it are not sensory aggravants.
Using a portable bluetooth speaker for watching movies at home so I can turn the volume up and down minimizes migraines from sounds. Hanging tapestries in echoey rooms at home minimizes painful echoes. I avoid concerts, crowded loud places. Turning down middle and high pitches on car radios helped. Take ear plugs to movies, or just plug my ears during the loud parts. In one particularly echoey room taught by a teacher with a strident voice, I used one ear plug or wore a thick large-hooded jacket to minimize the sound waves bouncing back into my ears.
Very high-pitched frequencies interfere with my constant ear-ringing (tinnitus) with what seems to be sound-wave interference. There are varying beats inside my head depending on what high-pitched frequency I am hearing.
If the noise is a cry of help, I figure out why the human or animal is crying and help them. Stray animals, to the humane society. Sick pet, to the vet. Crying baby, hold them or change diaper or bottle. If that is not possible, I go to another room and shut doors between us. Noise canceling headphones or earbuds can help. Personally, my ear canals are sensitive so I require earbuds with interchangeable rubber ear thingies. I always use the smallest size of ear thingies.
Pain and gut and postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS, stupidest acronym ever) issues:
Issue: abdominal pain
What the aggravants are: I have medically diagnosed (after surgery, endoscopy, cystocopy, et al.) interstitial cystitis, endometriosis, and irritable bowel syndrome. This means I frequently have urinary tract infection symptoms while testing negative for an infectious agent in my urine, slow gastric motility, frequent nausea. Combined with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (dizzy when stand up, pulse increases 30 beats per minute upon standing), I get nausea upon standing. I get bloating. Any pressure on my abdomen is painful (clothing, pet or kid tromping on my belly, hand of significant other resting on my belly while we snuggle before sleep, etc.). I get increased dizziness after eating a large meal. There is frequent stabbing gut pain, sudden unpredicable urges to have a bowel movement or urinate. There is unpredictable constipation interspersed with liquid diarrhea. I have intense sensitivity to food poisoning, new food types must be introduced gradually or severe constipation or liquid diarrhea will occur. Frequent straining to evacuate bowels plus pregnancy has resulted in constant external hemorrhoids. I am in ongoing consultation with gut doctors to manage this whole shebang.
What happens if I ignore it: I wind up doubled over in agony.
Solution: I found a career that does not micromanage my bathroom breaks. Generic Miralax daily per gut doctor’s recommendation. Occasional writing all the foods and gut reactions down, exhaustively, has only shown that eating oatmeal is likely to cause a bowel movement soon. Testing for gluten allergy has been negative. Largely avoid new food groups from new restaurants, prepare most foods at home. I feel better with higher protein intake but a keto diet makes me feel angry. I live on rice, beans, frozen and seasonal fruits and vegetables, chicken, and an embarrassing amount of protein bars. I eat when I am hungry, and pay attention to food cravings. If the idea of eating a food makes me nauseous, I do not eat that food, for I will puke it up. Frequent use of anti-nausea medications, especially zofran. I try to eat smaller meals. I do not eat large meals while at work. I always take medications with food unless specifically contra-indicated.
Increasing salt intake helps decrease the dizziness with standing. A Mexican salted plum treat called saladitos helps with salt. I like the lemon flavor ones, but in general the salted plum is an aquired taste. Drinking pickle juice helps some. Eating salted pickles helps.
Gut issues and clothing: I cannot wear typical thick jeans because seams and the one-button closure irritates my skin and puts pressure on my bladder. I must wear stretchy denim with thin waistband, and preferably two-button, pull-on, or snaps for closure. I tend towards drawstring linen or palazzo pants without elastic, as any stretched elastic on my waistband causes painful abdominal pressure.
Specific brands and styles and clothes stuff brain dump:
I find traditional clothing styles such as cotton kurtas from India work well. Well-worn often-washed cotton clothing such as 100% cotton scrubs from the thrift store worn seam-side out on terrible sensory days is nice. Oddly, the cotton-polyester drawstring scrub pants at all the hospitals works well. Shopping for clothes at a thrift store and feeling for rough seams, soft fiber helps. Read tags for fiber content (then cut open the seams carefully and remove that itchy tag). Avoid decorations that touch skin such as non-cotton lace, non-silk ribbons. If in doubt, test inexpensive soft things you’ve purchased by burning a bit of a hidden seam. If the fabric burns instead of melting, you have a natural fiber. A crunchy or hard little melted plasticy ball or tar-like smell indicates polyester or other synthetic oil-based synthetic fibers. Target and Walmart frequently offer tag-free clothing. That is great. Expect the printed tag on clothing to melt in a hot dryer over time and become rough and itchy. Replace item or wear it inside out when that happens. There are hippie style clothes sewn with visible seams on the outside. I collect those kinds of clothes. I buy underwear that is cotton, silk, or linen. I look for covered seams, no lace or ribbons, and I usually wear it inside out. I often wear older-fashioned or vintage clothing or SCA/LARP kinds of clothes. Tap pants are nice. Bloomers are nice.

This may be the start of a new series of mine, but I wanted to take a beat to talk about one of my absolute favorite perks, Afarkaup Avarkostir from Germanic/Norse Mythology Jump. For context, this is the capstone perk from the Trickster line and it is a stellar, potentially game-breaking perk in the right hands.

Afarkaup Avarkostir600: Everything has a price in Norse mythology, and there is no means around that, but the price is sometimes negotiable or able to be paid by others, and you have already paid a great price it seems and in return this gift. The cost for you will be reduced by an order of 3 and your gains will be increased by an order of 3. The cost of what? Anything within reason really. If you went to purchase a cow for 50 gold, you'd hand over 17 gold and get 3 cows instead or one cow that was 3 times better. How does that work; like, where do the extra cows come from? Seriously, just roll with it. If you were crafting a sword it would take up a third of the material and you might get three copies of it; it would take a third of the time to craft and be of three times higher quality. You can not cycle items this way by repurchasing something that has been acquired, enhanced, multiplied, or made through this, but god help the money markets as it's still fairly exploitable. Working out for an hour will take 20 minutes and only a third of the stamina and provide growth as if you worked out for three hours and received 3 times the gains per hour. While it can never reduce your cp cost, purchasin g things like levels in an rpg setting with exp, items, or cp will grant you 3 times the amount, it functions as you please either in a gestalt fashion or increasing your capacity for hard limits and levels by an order of 3. You will receive 3 of any item purchased with cp. The costs you pay are now indifferent to the specifications, if you make a contract with a demon for your soul, you can substitute in anyone else's unless there are other stipulations like a powerful or good soul, if the specifications are for unique items or things so rare they might as well be, you may all but ignore such specificities with even a glancing notion of an attempt for equivalency ( a deal for the strongest soul in the universe, you could just go grab the soul of a random guy just getting into bodybuilding or a gym rat.) A deal for your life, ok I have this slave here you can use as you wish for 1/3rd of each day or here is 1% of the life force from 100 people under my rule or power. The ability to substitute is in direct proportion to how specific the deal is meant to be, how rare the thing being paid is, and how personal it is to you; something like gold you may MAY be able to switch out for jewels gemstones and other currencies if the dealer isn't a stickler but you could not switch out for fool's gold and receive the benefits of this perk, an heirloom magic necklace thats been in your family for generations could be switched out for a necklace of similar craft and make containing some magic blessings. This will not stop people from noticing a substitution has been made or getting miffed about it, but the deal will be considered valid if you try to stay within reason.
Capstone Boosted - Everything and everyone has a price and you know exactly what it is in a dollar figure or some other form of currency and trade. If no one has the authority to sell something to you, the cost can be sacrificed as a kind of ritual removing it from the world. Everyone knows what you've purchased is yours and you know if someone tries to steal your stuff. This extends to services also but it can't force someone to do something if they absolutely wouldn't do it under any circumstances, otherwise, you know exactly how much this service costs, unless it involves selling you something, then they have to sell it. As a nice aside you no longer need to track down the owner of the items, just yell out in the museum that you are purchasing a painting and just like Batman acquiring a fancy hotel on a whim it will work itself out. You hold power over the things you own and may wield them completely and freely as you wish. You may place any arbitrary restrictions on that which you own and it can never be used against you unless you permit it to be so; all that is yours can be revoked and returned to you with ease. Objects, ideas, powers, gifts, thoughts, and skills acquired on loan or temporary trade count as yours for the full duration of the deal and can not be revoked and under deals or offers set for indeterminate durations they are permanent and irrevocable even if the contract is violated as they are now yours completely and utterly, I pity the fool who lets you borrow their hammer.

So I dabble in a TON of different creative spaces online. I have made CYOAs, I am a YouTuber, and I do jumpchain fiction and I make jumpchains. I actually made an essence, for the essence meta CYOA, which is just this perk (including the boosted version of it!). That essence has actually appeared or been alluded to in more than one of my works. This particular perk is just... it's just astounding, gang and what I want to do is hear how you and/or your jumpers would abuse it.
This perk is chain-altering, especially the bit about fiat-backed (purchased with CP) items. The ability to get three copies of items you purchase with CP is stunning. But on a practical level, there are other ways to really milk the shit out of this perk, from making deals with demons to really getting the most out of a small quantity of goods. In survival jumps this is a critical perk, as in something like Minecraft you can cheese this and make three swords for the price of one third of a sword, or using a third of the effort to get the same amount of supplies another Steve or Alex would need to fight for. This perk's utility as a training booster is also an often underrated aspect of it's charms, though given that this is a fairly dangerous setting odds are by the time someone visits it they'll have a lot of stuff that serves as training boosters already. In something like Breath of the Wild this is also a super dope perk since it triples the buffs you get from food, and divides by three how much of ingredients you need to make food and how much stuff costs. This is one of the handiest quality of life perks I've ever seen that does not say "You are immortal now and don't need to eat, sleep, drink, or blink" or whatever. It just directly improves your quality of life, making it WILDLY easier to get by and have fun. Getting into how this perk affects crafting is even more bonkers.
I think in real life, if I had just this and nothing else, it'd be interesting to cheese it to pay rent and buy food. It's ability to RADICALLY slice prices is intense and in someone's real life would be easily the most cheeseable aspect of this in the life of someone who isn't intensely wealthy. For example, if you are like me and you pay rent, your rent would cost a THIRD of its actual cost and paying it would allow you to live in a place for three times the time you should be staying there. Let's say you had rent that cost $780.00 a month, it'd cost YOU $260.00 a month and you'd get to live there for three months rent free if you paid that cost. Living for a YEAR in a place would cost you little more than the cost of a month of rent.
This gets even more broken when you consider how this affects the food you buy, be it doing something like ordering a delivery service (wherein it'd cost you a third of what it should cost and you'd get three times what you ordered, allowing you to buy one order from a fast food restaurant, pay a third of the costs, and get oddles of food), and it's STUNNING when you buy groceries and make dinner yourself. You pay a third of your grocery bill, get three times the food, and when you actually sit down and MAKE your food it only takes a third of what your recipe states, only takes a third of the time it should take, the food is three times BETTER, and you make THREE TIMES IT. That last part is the part that is just busted in this context, since it means that you really only need a third as much groceries as you needed before this. This makes meal prepping a fucking breeze even without potentially reading into the implications of this perk and speculating about how it might affect bodily needs (JE: whether or not it makes it so that you only need a third of the food, water, and sleep you needed before this, AND how it affects your body's ability to turn food and water into energy and the perk's effects, if any, when it comes to stuff like sleep).
I want to hear how you'd use this perk in your chain, and if you want, in your real life as well. Let's talk about it?

After 15 years I retired. A varied and exciting career that I graciously and without regret ended 5 years ago after my kid was born. But allow me to momentarily conflagrate my ego in an indulgence of nostalgia at the expense of your limited spare time and attention.
I was offered a Sous position at a ski resort town from a good friend and mentor. His life's mission was to have his food in Art Culinaire. I had not before, and have not since, made food with so much 'faff'. One special had a mise with 22 fucking steps. I both loved and hated it.
Summer season is wedding season. We're busy and the lifts are closed. Days are long and we can play outside with our tits out. This weekend my chef is running a special he wants to try out for the menu.
It's black sesame, cacao nib and black pepper crusted akaushi beef, blue cheese, tamari demi glace, scallion oil, heirloom tomatoes and shiso leaves and I can't remember what else but you can imagine there were a fuck ton of steps. Like the high class whores in ancient India who wore extensive garments with so many accoutrements that their clients passed out drunk before getting them undressed. But we were the hot kitchen in a sushi restaurant, so we sold everything to be eaten with chop sticks. That meant basically plating a dish five times or so if there were five bites.
First night. First push. We get one. The rail is already full and we haven't sold the first table yet. You know this moment. Pass this crucible and there's the chance that service will go perfectly. You will get to dance the dance of bliss, moving in perfect harmony and orchestration. Time stands still and simultaneously disappears and the moment is gone before you can say good bye.
OR. You drop one thing. Forget one detail. Give one call 30 seconds too late. And the whole thing crashes on top of itself, imploding all sense of self worth and compassion for your fellow humans and the evening seems to drag on for eons, every move and every decision is wrong and nothing goes easily except for the first drink to go down after the rush.
In this moment I'm moving efficiently, concentrating perfectly, my mise is exactly how I want it set up, my calls are perfect, my chef is in the pass with nothing to do but allow the staff to take the dishes for the first tables.
I'm plating his special and he's staring me down. There is one detail in my mise that's not finished. My cherry heirloom tomatoes aren't halved. I have a plan for this moment. My hands are whirling, no movement is wasted. "Remember, you still need to cut those tomatoes" "I remember chef"
The rest of the dishes are in the window, I can tell he's getting tense from my peripheral vision. In between fielding other tasks for the tables coming next, I dump out my ninth pan of tomatoes, they go rolling across my cutting board, I stop them with the palm of my hand on top, grab my offset serrated knife and halve about 8 of them, cutting between my hand and the cutting board, in less than a few seconds. Finish plating, replace my mise. "Sell table 16"
As I carry on I'm thinking, "Did he even see that?! C'mon that was fucking IMPRESSIVE!"
And then it came. The proudest accolade I've ever received from the chef I admired the most in my career, from a man of few words. "That was a fucking BLACK BELT move!"