I renew my Epic Value pack every month, and since I work from home, I never use up my data, so it keeps accumulating. Right now I have around 50GB of accumulated data.
A few months ago, someone from Epic called me about this Starter pack that would give me 4GB more data monthly and which was EUR 7 higher in price. I would also get the first 6 months for EUR 10, same amount I'm paying for the Value pack, but only for 6 months. I asked the caller if the data I don't use remains in my balance and accumulates over time like with the Value pack and he said no. I told him that it's therefore a no from me since I'd lose a tonne of accumulated data and would have to start paying more every month once the 6 months are over. His tone then changed to a bit of a desperate and irritated one and he said, "Well, what do you need all that data for?" Which I found funny, because now you're telling me that I should pay more money for less data because I don't need all that data in the first place? First you were trying to sell that "extra 4GB of monthly data" to me and now extra data is bad and I should pay more to have less of it?
This was maybe 9 months ago. They keep messaging me to change to the Starter pack. It started out with 1 SMS a month and now it's 2 SMSs a month and the deal keeps getting cheaper. At this stage, the Starter pack is EUR 5 cheaper than it was in the beginning (from EUR 17 to EUR 12) and the EUR 10 price got slashed to EUR 5 and is offered for the first 8 months, not 6. They really want me to switch to this Starter pack which is really not ideal for me. They also called me again twice since their original phone call. So, so far, I have received 3 phone calls and about 15 SMSs to switch to their Starter pack and it's clearly not a good bundle for me. I would literally be paying more money for less data.
It's not a huge deal but it's getting ridiculous at this stage. Hope they didn't manage to get any of you with this Starter pack BS or at least if they did, it made sense for you.

This is a variant I've played three games with now, and its really superb. The full rules go like this:
1- During setup, set aside the following SOs: Destroy their Greatest Ship (Destroy another player's war sun or flagship. ), Make an Example of Their World (Use BOMBARDMENT to destroy the last of a player's ground forces on a planet. ), Turn Their Fleets to Dust (Use SPACE CANNON to destroy the last of a player's ships in a system.), and Form a Spy Network (Discard 5 Action Cards.).
2- Shuffle the rest of the SOs together, and pick 5. These are now the Stage I Public Objectives. They work just the same as in the real game- with the exception that if they come up, Spark a Rebellion (Win a combat against a player who has the most victory points) and Unveil Flagship (Win a space combat in a system that contains your flagship) are able to be scored in the Action Phase, as soon as you fulfil them. For the rest, you can only score 1 in the Status Phase (unless you have Imperial) just like the vanilla game.
3- Shuffle together the unused SOs, the set aside SOs, and the real Stage I POs. These now form a common Secret Objectives deck. Secret Objectives are unchanged from the base game.
NOTE: we're only using the base game here, friends and I are too broke to shell out for POK.
I don't think this will ever beat the base game; but as a refreshing novelty I can 100% recommend. The other 3 Action Phase secrets need to be kept out of contention for obvious reasons, and while you could leave Form a Spy Network in there, I just think that it would get boring if everyone was stockpiling Action Cards.
I once had the pleasure of playing this variant, and had Spark a Rebellion, Unveil Flagship, and Adapt New Strategies (Own your two faction techs) come up as Public Objectives. We hadn't sorted out all the kinks of this variant at that stage, so we had all 5 Action Phase SOs in the running to come up as public objectives, and Destroy Their Greatest Ship (Destroy another player's war sun or flagship) came up as the fifth Stage I Public Objective, when there were already 3 flagships on the board. I'll remember that night for the rest of my life.
LESS SPICY VARIANT: Another way to spice up objectives is to have the first two Stage I POs be base-game POs, and the other 3 Stage I POs be secrets. This is probably a far more robust system than what I am proposing above. Usually if we do this, we have the first two POs set as Expand Borders (Control 6 planets in non-home systems )and Intimidate Council (Have 1 or more ships in 2 systems that are adjacent to Mecatol Rex's System). That is because these two objectives encourage conflict, which leads to more exciting games. We always use these 2 as the 2 starting objectives if we have new players, because let's face it, games with 5 non-conflict Stage Is can get boring.
ONLY MILDLY SPICY VARIANT: Replace only the third Stage I PO with a secret. We have played this way once to add a touch of spice, and we plan to now do this in every game, unless we're playing my variant, or the Red Tape variant that is also very popular.

I renew my Epic Value pack every month, and since I work from home, I never use up my data, so it keeps accumulating. Right now I have around 50GB of accumulated data.
A few months ago, someone from Epic called me about this Starter pack that would give me 4GB more data monthly and which was EUR 7 higher in price. I would also get the first 6 months for EUR 10, same amount I'm paying for the Value pack. I asked the caller if the data I don't use remains in my balance and accumulates over time like with the Value pack and he said no. I told him that it's therefore a no from me since I'd lose a tonne of data and would have to start paying more every month once the 6 months are over. His tone then changed to a bit of a desperate and irritated one and he said, "Well, what do you need all that data for?" Which I found funny, because now you're telling me that I should pay more money for less data because I don't need all that data in the first place? First you were trying to sell that "extra 4GB of monthly data" to me and now extra data is bad?
This was maybe 9 months ago. They keep messaging me to change to the Starter pack. It started out with 1 SMS a month and now it's 2 SMSs a month and the deal keeps getting cheaper. At this stage, the Starter pack is EUR 5 cheaper than it was in the beginning and the EUR 10 price got slashed to EUR 5 and is offered for the first 8 months, not 6. They really want me to switch to this Starter pack which is really not ideal for me. They also called me again twice since their original phone call. So so far I have received 3 phone calls and about 15 SMSs to switch to their Starter pack and it's clearly not a good bundle for me. I would literally be paying more money for less data.
It's not a huge deal but it's getting ridiculous at this stage. Hope they didn't manage to get any of you with this Starter pack BS or at least if they did, it made sense for you.

Please use this thread to ask any lawn care questions that you may have. There are no stupid questions. This includes weed, fungus, insect, and grass identification. For help on asking a question, please refer to the "How to Get the Most out of Your Post" section at the top of the sidebar.
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I’m a woman in college who just turned 20. I was in denial for a long time but my RA, who is a 27-year-old PhD student, may be obsessed with me.
To start off, he’s always been super kind towards everyone. When I was going through a personal crisis that caused me to faint, he ran to the local pharmacy and bought me a blood pressure monitor. He also brought me a jar of honey and lemon when I had a bad cold. He treats my other housemates with the same level of generosity. I’ve tried my best to be supportive in return by expressing curiosity and enthusiasm for his research and fun stories. I considered him a friend.
But about a month ago, he called me and asked to meet him at our house’s front porch. When I got outside, he insisted we cross the street. He carefully looked around and then asked if I would like to go out on a date with him. I was flabbergasted, especially since our age difference is so extreme. I also am not attracted to him. So I just replied that I’m flattered, but a romantic relationship wouldn’t be appropriate since we’re in completely different life stages. I thought this would be the end of him pursuing me, but I’ve been noticing odd, possibly obsessive behaviors ever since.
For context, there are two houses on our property. He lives in the front house and I live in the back house. I’ve noticed him watching me through the front house window, which would usually be followed by him entering the back house to chat. Even if I gave extremely obvious signs that I was super occupied or in a rush, he’d be eager to hear about my schedule and plans. It would always be extremely difficult to exit a conversation. He’s very overbearing.
Our house had an end-of-the-year party, so I invited a few friends. Throughout the night, he would not leave my group alone or chat with other people. An attendee I met the previous weekend was also there. We have a lot in common. We had been texting all week and showing signs of mutual romantic interest. But whenever we tried to have a moment alone together, this RA would barge in between us and kill the vibe with his own stories that weren’t relevant to our conversation.
The RA also spams me with a ton of Instagram reels that are super random. A few have some strange sexual undertones. He also regularly texts me, sometimes just apologizing for the most random things he said earlier that I didn’t even notice or remember. He also goes back to his messages he recently sent and unnecessarily edits them.
The creepiest thing he did was show me photos he took near my family’s house when he was in my home city for a conference. I never told him my street name or even what part of the city I was from. Maybe this was just a funny coincidence, but I don’t think it bodes well with my other information.
He has fortunately left for the semester. But that hasn’t stopped him from reaching out. Yesterday, he sent me 50 PHOTOS OF HIS VACATION with detailed descriptions. My phone was exploding for at least 15 minutes. Mind you, this was after I intentionally waited 4 days to open his last message and reply.
The good news is that I’m moving into another student house next year. But I feel like he’s becoming more persistent in spite of me showing super obvious signs that I’m not into him. How should I handle this? After how sweet he’s been, it feels wrong to outright say that I feel uncomfortable with him. But I also really need to set boundaries to feel safe next semester. Thoughts?

I'm in the planning stages of my journey to SMBC (planning to transfer later this summer!). I visited 2 local daycares to get pricing (I'm in South Florida). Pricing was about what I expected- average $1400/month for an infant. Anybody else happen to be in the area and found a place they're comfortable with and would recommend? Also, how do you feel about in home daycare vs. commercial daycare centers? TIA!

On a rainy Saturday afternoon not so long ago when internet connection was fluctuating in most homes, the 80-year-old Cecile Guidote-Alvarez, widow of the late Senator Heherson Alvarez, carrying a mini iPad, hurriedly alighted from a three-wheeled pedicab Toktok and stormed her way into a popular coffee shop in a mall in Manila.

A senior citizen in panic mode, she told the stunned baristas she’s looking for a Wi-Fi connection because she was about to interview retired Supreme Court Associate Justice Antonio Carpio via Zoom.
The coffee shop, a known world brand, has Wi-Fi exclusive to its employees, so the old lady was told to try other establishments. She went from one coffee shop to another only to be told the same, until a kind stranger led her to a well-known beauty salon with a free internet connection.
The lady salon attendant was very accommodating to the octogenarian, even typing the password on her IPad. Of course, she needed to avail herself of their salon services. Initially, she opted for a haircut, but since she needed to talk and hear clearly who she was talking to, she settled for a foot spa with pedicure.
“They lowered the volume of the piped-in music, and since there were less customers because it’s been raining all day, I was able to do my interview,” Guidote-Alvarez said.
For the next half-an-hour, the hair dressers and manicurists working with their scissors, nail clippers and cuticle removers on their customers’ hair and fingernails, listened to Carpio and Guidote-Alvarez discussed how Filipino fishermen and the Philippine Navy ships helplessly negotiate their ways in Scarborough Shoal amid the territorial disputes in the West Philippine Sea.
“They were all very nice to me. I was able to finish my interview, with newly pedicured nails,” she told The Diarist.
For those who’ve worked with Guidote-Alvarez, her steadfast, almost stubborn, nature to accomplish a task, is nothing out of the ordinary. She would improvise, find alternatives, call up friends and former students, wake them up from sleep, just to get things done.
But now, in her 80s, legally blind and nearly deaf, she has mellowed down.
Cecile Alvarez with her mentors, National Artist for Literature Alejandro Roces, Jr and Fr. James Reuter. SJ
In her twilight years, Guidote-Alvarez has been solely hosting the 57-year-old Radyo Balintataw on DZRH, one of the oldest radio stations in the Philippines, where she tackles a wide range of topics, from climate change, women’s health, theater, culture, dance, to current issues, apart from playing old recordings of classic radio plays she produced and directed, dating back to the late ‘80s.
She shared with TheDiarist.ph how she started and continues to host one of the longest running advocacy programs on AM Radio.
Theater on TV
After founding the Philippine Educational Theater Association (PETA) on April 7, 1967, or exactly 57 years ago, Guidote-Alvarez thought of the need to expose PETA’s members to television, so she started conceptualizing Balintataw, which in Filipino means the pupil of the eye, but in a larger context has something to do with having wild imagination, or what you might see if you have a third eye.

“I designed Balintataw as a bridge between cinema and the stage, where the youth being trained in theater skills can have a ready-made laboratory experience linked with the film and entertainment industry that would likewise have a natural on-the-job training and orientation regarding the theatrical discipline of working with a literary script, whether dramatic or comic—not the regular improvised script done on taping or copycat scripts from foreign themes,” Guidote-Alvarez wrote in her yet-to-be published Memoir of a Freedom Fighter’s Wife.
“A primary goal when I conceived PETA was to initiate and sustain artistic expression that draws meaning and power from the lives of the people, and sharing the literary gems with a greater number of audiences through a Broadcast Theater-Film Program with Balintataw on Channel 5,” she added.
“No matter how little the pay, at least it provided our local writers with a little honorarium. I sought permission for award-winning pieces of the Palanca Playwriting contest to be fleshed out to reach the masses. The much-awarded playwright Bert Florentino served as our literary manager, assisted by Mauro Avena. Eventually, Isagani Cruz took over when Bert left for the US,” she wrote.
“Writers need exposure and encouragement through a regular TV performance that will give them a sense of achievement and inspire them to keep on writing with some kind of honorarium. I was glad Lupita Aquino (now Kashiwahara) agreed to be TV director and Robert Arevalo as TV host.
She got members of the PETA Kalinangan Ensemble to serve as stage directors. “This is to undertake preliminary preparation with a rehearsal with the actors for character development and memorization and preliminary staging,” she wrote.
Five months after PETA was founded, Balintataw TV premiered on Channel 5 on Aug. 19, 1967, coinciding with the Buwan ng Wika birthdate of President Manuel Luis Quezon.
The first play, whose title escapes her now, featured Armida Siguion-Reyna and Maria Eva “Chingbee” Kalaw. She employed photo journalist and award-winning photographedocumentarist/cinematographer, Romy Vitug, to work with her in filming outdoor scenes for Balintataw.

In the pre-Martial Law Balintataw, among those initiated into television were Lino Brocka, Elwood Perez, Nick Lizaso, Maryo delos Reyes, Mario O’Hara, Joey Gosiengfiao, Behn Cervantes, and Frank Rivera.
Among the stage actors who crossed over to television were Lily Gamboa, Angie Ferro, Lorlie Villanueva, Jonee Gamboa, Joy Soler, Sherry Lara, Gardy Labad, Noel Trinidad.
Like with PETA, Guidote-Alvarez directed and managed Balintataw for five years. Because of Martial Law, she and husband Heherson went on exile in the US to escape a military shoot-to-kill order on Heherson, who was tagged as a subversive.
Post-Martial Law
Internationally acclaimed auteur Lav Diaz mentioned in several interviews how he learned writing radio and TV scripts in Balintataw.
This happened in the late 1980s, when the Alvarez couple returned from exile.
Despite its absence on the air in the Martial Law years, Balintataw was honored by Star Awards as among the 20 unforgettable outstanding broadcast programs in the Philippines.
“This encouraged me to consider reviving Balintataw on TV. Another blessing was a FAMAS award for having an important role in the development of cinema recognizing Balintataw as a bridge for synergizing cinema with the stage, providing a pathway of entry of our PETA artists into film and for movie stars to consider enriching their experience by acting on the legitimate stage,” Guidote-Alvarez wrote.
Though she didn’t return to PETA anymore because it had been surviving well and had its own set of officers led by Brocka, she just tapped some of its members for the return of Balintataw.
For 14 years, the Alvarez couple lived in the US as political exiles, shown here during a Ninoy Aquino Movement meeting. Cecile revived Radyo Balintataw upon their return in the late 1980s.
Channel 4 stint
“I arranged to revive TV Balintataw on Channel 4 in 1989. We began with a drama about a rebel returnee, title escapes me now, but I clearly remember it was written by Lualhati Bautista and directed by Maryo de los Reyes. We also had a good story series on the hazing of Lenny Villa, an Aquila Legis Frat neophyte,” she wrote.
At the time, Heherson had been elected senator after having served as Agrarian Reform Minister and eventually Cabinet Secretary during the first year of the Cory Aquino Administration.
“We were able to unravel the deadly hazing process from a fellow neophyte who broke the code of silence as we revealed graphically, acted the cruel process used. I had Jose Mari Avellana direct it. This presentation won all the awards. Lav Diaz was training with us and he started writing teleplays. We also had Nora Aunor in an adaptation of Bert Florentino’s The World Is An Apple, adapted by Frank Rivera, and I had Nick Lizaso direct.”

Emmy Awards
Balintataw TV was selected as one of five soaps for social change recognized by Emmy Awards. The Philippines was one of five countries cited, with Mexico, India, Brazil and Kenya.
“The nomination was made possible by the wonderful support from David Poindexter. It was a supreme honor for our country to be recognized in the Emmy Awards, to be cited among the five Third World countries using soap opera for social change.”
Poindexter was a Methodist minister and TV producer who founded the Population Communications International.
Surviving on radio
“In spite of the cry about how television can be deadening the minds of the people with copied themes with an eternal favorite love triangle story, there was really no funding for Balintataw,” she wrote.
“Sponsors would go naturally to the commercial stations where big stars were paid highly for the starring role. Balintataw may have substance but we could not afford payment of bankable stars,” she added.
“Financial stress forced me to drop TV and remain on radio because I didn’t want to kill Balintataw per se just because we didn’t have funds.”
Creative classroom
“We have focused on Balintataw as a creative classroom on the air. I was able to talk to Fred J. Elizalde of DZRH and the president of the network, Mr. Jun Nicdao,” she wrote.
In the ‘80s, the HIV/AIDS became a global epidemic and in the Philippines, the general populace was still clueless on how to deal with it.
“In order to get funding, the first series I did was about the explosive news regarding AIDS in Asia. I got the DOH Secretary at the time, Dr. Juan Flavier, to act as himself, providing the data. It was easier to start off with an AIDS radio serial.
They did a minimum of 13 episodes to raise awareness about the disease.
“From then on, some of our television scripts we transformed into a radio version. DZRH provided us with our initial production staff, so we used some from the network and some of its resident artists and drama talents. Our time slots were changing but always coming after the long-running horror drama, Gabi ng Lagim.
“We worked on the themes of overseas workers, the drug problem, corruption, aside from portraying contemporary and literary classics serving as social commentaries,” she wrote.
Women playwrights
“We dramatized the works of noted women writers and playwrights like Estrella Alfon, Genoveva Edroza Matute and Marilou Jacob, who is distinguished in being a founding president of Women’s Playwright International.
“Apart from our PETA staple of writers, we involved young, upcoming and budding university and community theater groups.
“We also had a lot of foreign plays, where we could feature theater festivals beyond borders. We could do Shakespeare, we could do Euripides but also the current playwrights in the Arab region we translated in our language.
“We brought in Chinese contemporary plays, Malaysian, Indonesian and from other women writers from ASEAN member countries.”
Virtual history book
“The significance of Balintataw is portrayed as a virtual history book on audio as it unveiled events in the country. Radio is fresh, instant and up-to date,” she added.
When the COVID-19 pandemic struck, Balintataw became Guidote-Alvarez’s outlet and therapy. Having lost her husband on the second month of the pandemic, a widow cocooned at home, she began hosting it six days a week, learning how to use an iPad and interviewing via Zoom.
The word “Balintataw” has been associated with her name.
Visual artist and editorial cartoonist Benjie Lontoc in casual meeting told us how in his younger days, when AM Radio was a national past-time, he was surprised to hear a Filipino adaptation of No Exit by Jean Paul-Sarte. This was when radio was airing soap, fantasy adventures targeting housewives and children.
Another was the airing of Larawan as a radio play in the 1990s, with Guidote-Alvarez as the voice of Candida Marasigan.
Leopoldo Salcedo (left) as Manolo in a confrontation scene with Dante Rivero as Tony Javier in PETA’s 1968 ‘Larawan’ directed by Cecile Guidote-Alvarez. (Photo from PETA archives)
In the 1960s, she directed Larawan, the first Filipino adaptation of Joaquin’s A Portrait of the Artist as Filipino for PETA’s second season. It ran from December 1968 to January 1969 at the Raha Sulayman Theater at Fort Santiago in Intramural. In the cast were Rita Gomez (Candida), Lolita Rodriguez (Paula), Leopoldo Salcedo (Don Manolo) and Dante Rivero (Tony Javier).
Guidote-Alvarez has a funny recollection of the radio play. It was Nick Joaquin himself who told her years ago how his pedicurist suddenly started a conversation about Larawan.

Joaquin was relaxing on the barber’s chair having a post-haircut pedicure and foot spa when the lady pedicurist asked him how the story would end. Joaquin was stunned because he didn’t want to be known in the barber shop as Nick Joaquin the famous National Artist for Literature, but just a regular customer.
“He told me he almost fell out from the chair. He was a very private person and the pedicurist recognized him as the playwright,” Guidote-Alvarez, laughing, told TheDiarist.ph.
When she was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2000, she was given only three years to live. It’s been more than two decades since then. She has also conquered COVID-19 twice.
Over and beyond her work in theater and various advocacies, Guidote-Alvarez is among the few surviving practitioners of AM Radio broadcasting.
The beauty salon incident wasn’t a first for the octogenarian radio host. She occasionally went back there to interview guests and record her shows whenever Wi-Fi connections in her home fluctuated.
Despite all setbacks, man-made or otherwise, the steadfast Cecile Guidote-Alvarez’s voice continues to be heard in this mass media platform in an era that knows mainly Spotify. As Joaquin wrote, “to remember and to sing, that is her vocation.”
(Except Saturday, Radyo Balintataw airs daily on DZRH 666 Khz AM radio after ‘Gabi ng Lagim’, and live streamed on radio.org.ph. Some episodes have been uploaded on YouTube.)

“We’re a meat family,” my dad would proudly tell strangers. He’d wait for the quizzical look, then launch into detail, starting with how many freezers we had, how long we could sustain ourselves on the contents. It was just his way of starting a conversation, which made sense when you considered that raising and home-killing animals for food was, for want of a better term, his life-long hobby. His prize possession was one of those industrial-sized vacuum sealers: you could put half a pig inside and wrap it in plastic so tightly that every wrinkle and skin fold waxed unreal with shiny detail.
If we hadn’t lived in a rural area, albeit semi-urbanised, I guess it would have been pretty weird. But the mostly farming-stock locals only found his extra enthusiasm a little bit odd.
When he wasn’t being a bit embarrassing talking about it, I never really paid much heed to his hobby. I had a child’s vaguely grateful awareness that though our family went through some lean financial times, our stomachs never suffered like some of the families around us. All the beef, pork, ham and bacon in those big old chest freezers passed down from his dad really could have fed us for years.
I should preface all this by saying that I wasn’t a particularly bright kid, though neither was I dumb. I didn’t fail badly at anything in school, I just never achieved beyond a pass. I didn’t know it yet back then, still quietly dreaming about being a ballet star or a dressage champion, but mediocrity was my destiny. And I think that’s why I got on so well with my Aunt Liz.
Liz was my dad’s live-in youngest sister. She was one of those women who get described as ‘bubbly’ — not really pretty, not really smart, not a lot going on besides just being… well, all Liz. But she was salt of the earth; kind, caring, and great with kids. She was the only person who would willingly mind my two older brothers, who fought like hellcats and caused more trouble than the whole last generation of my family combined. People would privately lament to my parents that it was a shame Liz didn’t have kids of her own, but dad would just shake his head and say Liz liked it that way – that all the fun of looking after kids is being able to give them back to their parents.
I guess she was like me; nice, but mediocre. Lovely, but somehow forgettable when she wasn’t doing something for you.
But when Liz left us, I couldn’t forget her.
In hindsight, it was pretty weird timing that we had a big fortieth birthday party for Liz right before she disappeared. She was radiant that night; she’d hired a local girl to do her hair and makeup, and it was honestly the first time I’d ever seen her look pretty. She’d even worn a push-up bra under a tight red dress, which flattered her very plump curves well enough that the neighbour’s farmhand was spotted disappearing into the woolshed with her for a snog. In my dawning awareness, that gave a plain girl hope: if Aunty Liz could get a guy at forty, maybe things would turn out okay for me.
Anyway, I couldn’t forget how her pink cheeks, her eyes, her whole self, glowed that night before Liz went to bed. She said it was the best birthday ever, and that she was very much looking forward to the next stage of her life.
Would I have done anything different, if I had known? If I had realised what, exactly, that next stage was?
The week after the party, Aunt Liz said she was going on a little holiday up north, to visit some old school friends. She packed her things – she didn’t honestly have that many – and drove her little orange mini out onto the main road. And with a wave of one fleshy hand, she was gone. Nobody really thought much of it when she didn’t call, because nobody rural had cellphones back then. And Liz was, as I said, somehow kinda forgettable when she wasn’t right in front of you.
When we hadn’t had contact for six weeks, Dad tracked down the land line numbers for their old school buddies. They were surprised to hear from him — Liz had never arrived, so they had just assumed she’d cancelled her visit. No-one had thought to check. I eavesdropped on the conversation, and it sounded for all the world like *they* had forgotten about Aunt Liz, too.
From there it became a missing person case. The local cops came and talked to all of us; the farmhand who’d been seen snogging her was briefly detained, then let go, dad got grilled at length, even my hellion brothers were questioned thoroughly to see if this was one of their wild and dangerous pranks gone wrong.
But everything was a dead end. Nobody knew where Liz was, or what had happened to her.
The remains of her old mini were found halfway across the country, burned out on a beach, on a derelict stretch of ragged, rocky coastline. The police assumed murder and combed the area for remains. But even the most expert divers couldn’t conquer the incredible undertow and fast-shifting seabed of that coastline to look for evidence, so none was forthcoming.
Eventually the cops collectively shrugged and said that there was really nothing more they could do unless more information suddenly came to light. The locals knew nothing, no witnesses had come forward, and the trail was cold. As far as anyone knew, poor aunt Liz had been murdered on some desolate beach, far away from her home.
It didn’t feel fair to me. She’d once mentioned wanting her remains buried on our farm, in the graveyard plot beside grandma and grandad.
So, in my grief, I went into her room to look for something of hers to bury beside them.
Like I said, Liz didn’t have many things. Her room was pretty spartan, and her wardrobe was mostly sensible farm stuff. There was one exception: she, like me, did like to read, and she had a pretty good collection of well-thumbed books. I think it’s the escapism – even the most mediocre girl can lose herself in the plot of some trashy romance novel, imagine there’s still hope of being swept off her feet by that handsome stableboy, his inexplicable yearning for chubby plain girls.
So I set myself the task of going through the books, to find the right one to bury in the graveyard plot.
Most of them were exactly what you’d expect, but some of them were racier than I was used to. I felt various parts of my body flushing and tingling, as I read breathless prose about calloused hands touching the softest flesh of the protagonist. Okay, if I’m honest with myself, I might have got a little *too* invested in my project at that point. But that was also why I persisted going through her entire collection, until I found the ragged paperback from 1970, entitled Tawny Sands. And inside that trashy cardboard romance cover, I discovered not the tale of Tawny Sands, but some carefully hand-cut, stitched-in pages. A handwritten story in my Aunt’s rounded penmanship: Memoirs of a Long Pig.
I read her story twice in a row, utterly gripped.
Aunt Liz was no Stephen King – heck, she wasn’t even the Goosebumps guy – but her story was gripping and compelling, and I couldn’t put it down. Even if I hadn’t known her, I think that would have been true.
The gist of it was that Liz, when she was sixteen, had discovered that our family had a very long history of eating what she described as ‘Long Pork’. It’s an antipodean term, anglicised from the Pacific Islands: human meat.
Like me, young Liz still had some hopes and dreams. In one of her many failed attempts to find a special talent, she’d taken up cooking as a hobby. Naturally, with our family’s overabundance of meat, she’d scoured the freezers in the shed for ingredients: the racks of ribs and stacks of pork chops, butcher-paper wrappings all neatly labelled with the first letter of the name of the animal they came from.
She found familiar meat from Rodney, one of the pigs that had been recently slaughtered, emblazoned with an ‘R’ in her father’s strong, blocky lettering. There were cutlets labelled ‘M’ for Mary, from one of the lambs she’d hand-reared, and ‘F’ for Ferdinand, the steer they’d killed the month before. But she couldn’t explain the many, many curious parcels of meat on one side of the huge freezer, all labelled ‘J’ – at least, not until she took it all out and assembled it as well as she could on the scoured concrete floor of the killing shed. A big, frozen jigsaw puzzle without the box, her best attempt to discover what kind of beast the pieces had come from.
The animal, she quickly realised, was a Long Pig. Her own Aunt Jenny, who had died the month before – just after her fortieth birthday.
Fortunately, or perhaps not, for Liz, her father entered the shed right at that moment and realised his daughter had discovered the family secret. He sat down calmly on the lid of the freezer, and explained to her that this was a long-running family tradition, dating back to at least before his grandfather had been born.
“There are always people in life, Liz,” he’d said, “who won’t really amount to much. They want to be useful, want to be more. They strive and they strive, trying job after job, hobby after hobby, trying to hit on something they’re really good at. Something that makes them special. Those people can waste their whole lives, chasing dreams that never come true. Eventually they die unfulfilled, knowing that all their time has been wasted. That what they leave behind will fade quickly.”
His voice was oddly gentle as he leaned down and patted one of the neatly wrapped cuts of Aunt Jenny, still sitting frozen on the shed floor.
“Your Aunt Jenny was one of those people. So was my Aunt Irene.” He paused to gaze at his daughter, his next words peppered with emphasis. “But you see, my sweet Liz, they did find a purpose in life. They did find a way to be special, and they left this world utterly certain of their gift.” He stood up, stretched his back. “Let me show you.”
Liz waited while my grandad meticulously stacked the meat back into the freezer, all but one J-marked parcel that looked for all the world like a thick venison steak. He took her back to the farmhouse, and reverently unwrapped the deep red, heavily marbled meat to let it thaw. Then he laid it in the family’s ancient, cast-iron pan, basting it with butter and rosemary until a heavenly scent filled the kitchen, and Aunt Liz couldn’t stop her mouth from watering.
“Just try it. Let her show you. You’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”
Even though she knew it was her aunt, Liz couldn’t stop herself from taking that first bite. There was something transcendent about the smell, overriding her natural revulsion that this was human meat, not one of their farm animals. For the first time, she truly realised it: we’re just another kind of animal. And weren’t her memories of Mary the lamb almost as fond as her memories of Aunt Jenny?
Liz explained then, in her curly handwriting, the explosion of taste that had assaulted her when she tried the steak. It was tender, it was succulent, it was rich beyond imagining. The fats melted on her tongue, lingering somewhere between pork and beef, but oddly neither. The flavour of the meat defied identification; something familiar, yet not.
But one thing she couldn’t deny; it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. Tears dripped onto her plate, mingled with the juice, the grease — not grief, but a pure, real, giddy delight.
“You’re tasting your aunt’s love for this family,” my grandad explained. “Her entire life was carefully curated, to eventually make unforgettable moments for us, just like this. This was her way of being special. This was the greatest gift she could possibly bring to our world – and because she realised that, she died with not a single regret. She knew her life had purpose. She was perfectly, completely fulfilled.”
I felt those words. I felt them lodge in my own belly, settling uncomfortably deep. I knew Aunt Liz, probably better than anyone else in the family. I’d seen how fucking happy she’d been on her fortieth, how goddamn fulfilled she was, despite apparently being a *nobody* and achieving *nothing*. Somehow, in the space of a single day, she had gone from being a forgettable background character to becoming the *main character*, immortalising herself in our family’s history with her sacrifice. Quite literally becoming part of all of us, forever.
I went to the killing shed after I finished with the book. I looked inside the freezers.
But there were no vacuum-sealed packages labelled ‘L’, no matter how deep I dug into the frozen stacks of plastic-wrapped flesh. Panicked now, not sure if I wanted to connect all the dots or unconnect them, I tried to think back over the last few months, recall any meals that had been unusually good. A few Sundays ago, we’d had a stew that really hit the spot and left me craving more. And I realised that the family had a really good night that night; my brothers behaved themselves, my parents didn’t fight, and grandma and grandad had been there. Hadn’t they looked far more… expectant than they should have?
I strained my brain, trying to recall if I’d seen the homekill bag on the kitchen bench – if I’d registered what letter it was. I knew it wasn’t an L. I would have remembered if it was an L.
And then it hit me, the memory, the connection, sizzling as if branded with a hot iron.
It had been an ‘E’.
E for Elizabeth. Not for Edward the pig.
I snorted at my own stupidity – of *course* Liz was short for Elizabeth – and as I comprehended my lack of smarts, I felt something give inside me.
I wasn’t clever, and nothing, nothing would ever make me smart. I had no big talents. I wasn’t beautiful, or even cute – and even if I had a million plastic surgeries, it still wouldn’t fulfill me. It wouldn’t be real.
I was a Liz.
I was a Jenny.
I was whoever the first aunt had been, the aunt who had dedicated her life to making her flesh as delicious as possible, who had worked every damn minute to be the best Long Pig she could ever be.
I wondered how many magical family evenings had been spent eating Aunt Jenny. How many glorious, satisfying, memorable dishes had been made out of her.
And… I wanted that. I wanted to finally know I had a *purpose* in life. One so simple, and so easy to achieve.
I wanted what Aunt Liz had.
***
It's my fortieth birthday today and I’m so fucking excited. For the last twenty-four years, I’ve dedicated myself to this moment; I’ve eaten exactly what I needed to, I’ve exercised just enough, but not too much, to maintain that perfect balance of marbling vs tenderness. I’ve relaxed and meditated to keep all those amazing flavours inside of me. I’ve researched all the greatest meats in the world, from prime Angus beef to A5 Wagyu. I really think I may have outdone myself.
I’m having my hair and makeup done at the local salon this afternoon, and I’m going to look so pretty; all prize piggy on show at the fair. I’m even going to have a big red ribbon in my hair, in memory of Aunt Liz.
Maybe there’ll be a cute boy I can snog in the wool shed, maybe there won’t – I don’t really care; because the most important, most certain thing is that I’m going to be the most delicious Long Pig in the history of our entire family.
I’m going to make everyone so damn happy, and I’m just so glad I can share my story with you all, instead of hiding it in a grubby book like poor Aunt Liz.
My only real disappointment? That you won’t get to taste me.
Reader, I have loved, loved my life. My Long Pork will be out of this world: once tasted, never, ever forgotten.

"Why Did Jesus Die on the Cross?"

The main reason Jesus died on the cross was to defeat Satan and set us free from his oppressive rule. Everything else that Jesus accomplished was to be understood as an aspect and consequence of this victory (e.g., Recapitulation, Moral Influence, etc.).
This understanding of why Jesus had to die is called the Christus Victor (Latin for “Christ is Victorious”) view of the atonement. But, what exactly was Christ victorious from, and why? To find out the answers to these questions, we have to turn to the Old Testament, as that's what the apostles would often allude to in order to properly teach their audience the message they were trying to convey (Rom. 15:4).
The OT is full of conflict between the Father (YHVH) and false gods, between YHVH and cosmic forces of chaos. The Psalms speak of this conflict between YHVH and water monsters of the deeps (an ancient image for chaos) (Psa. 29:3-4; 74:10-14; 77:16, 19; 89:9-10; 104:2-9, etc).
The liberation of Israel from Egypt wasn’t just a conflict between Pharaoh and Moses. It was really between YHVH and the false gods of Egypt.
Regardless of whether you think the aforementioned descriptions are literal or metaphorical, the reality that the Old Testament describes is that humanity lived in a “cosmic war zone.”
The Christus Victor motif is about Christ reigning victorious over wicked principalities and Satan's kingdom, and is strongly emphasized throughout the New Testament. Scripture declares that Jesus came to drive out "the prince of this world” (John 12:31), to “destroy the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8), to “destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil” (Heb. 2:14) and to “put all enemies under his feet” (1 Cor 15:25). Jesus came to overpower the “strong man” (Satan) who held the world in bondage and worked with his Church to plunder his "palace" (Luke 11:21-22). He came to end the reign of the cosmic “thief” who seized the world to “steal, and to kill, and to destroy” the life YHVH intended for us (John 10:10). Jesus came and died on the cross to disarm “the principalities and powers” and make a “shew of them openly [i.e., public spectacle]” by “triumphing over them in [the cross]” (Col. 2:15).
Beyond these explicit statements, there are many other passages that express the Christus Victor motif as well. For example, the first prophecy in the Bible foretells that a descendent of Eve (Jesus) would crush the head of the serpent (Gen. 3:15). The first Christian sermon ever preached proclaimed that Jesus in principle conquered all YHVH's enemies (Acts 2:32-36). And the single most frequently quoted Old Testament passage by New Testament authors is Psalm 110:1 which predicts that Christ would conquer all YHVH’s opponents. (Psalm 110 is quoted or alluded to in Matthew 22:41-45; 26:64, Mark 12:35-37; 14:62, Luke 20:41-44; 22:69, Acts 5:31; 7:55-56, Romans 8:34, 1st Corinthians 15:22-25, Ephesians 1:20, Hebrews 1:3; 1:13; 5:6, 10; 6:20; 7:11, 15, 17, 21; 8:1; 10:12-13, 1st Peter 3:22, and Revelation 3:21.) According to New Testament scholar Oscar Cullman, the frequency with which New Testament authors cite this Psalm is the greatest proof that Christ’s “victory over the angel powers stands at the very center of early Christian thought.”
Because of man's rebellion, the Messiah's coming involved a rescue mission that included a strategy for vanquishing the powers of darkness.
Since YHVH is a God of love who gives genuine “say-so” to both angels and humans, YHVH rarely accomplishes His providential plans through coercion. YHVH relies on His infinite wisdom to achieve His goals. Nowhere is YHVH's wisdom put more on display than in the manner in which He outsmarted Satan and the powers of evil, using their own evil to bring about their defeat.
Most readers probably know the famous story from ancient Greece about the Trojan Horse. To recap the story, Troy and Greece had been locked in a ten-year-long vicious war when, according to Homer and Virgil, the Greeks came up with a brilliant idea. They built an enormous wooden horse, hid soldiers inside and offered it to the Trojans as a gift, claiming they were conceding defeat and going home. The delighted Trojans accepted the gift and proceeded to celebrate by drinking themselves into a drunken stupor. When night came and the Trojan warriors were too wasted to fight, the Greeks exited the horse, unlocked the city gates to quietly let all their compatriots in, and easily conquered the city, thus winning the war.
Historians debate whether any of this actually happened. But either way, as military strategies go, it’s brilliant.
Now, there are five clues in the New Testament that suggest YHVH was using something like this Trojan Horse strategy against the powers when he sent Jesus into the world:
1) The Bible tells us that YHVH's victory over the powers of darkness was achieved by the employment of YHVH’s wisdom, and was centered on that wisdom having become reality in Jesus Christ (Rom. 16:25, 1 Cor. 2:7, Eph. 3:9-10, Col. 1:26). It also tells us that, for some reason, this Christ-centered wisdom was kept “secret and hidden” throughout the ages. It’s clear from this that YHVH's strategy was to outsmart and surprise the powers by sending Jesus.
2) While humans don’t generally know Jesus’ true identity during his ministry, demons do. They recognize Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah, but, interestingly enough, they have no idea what he’s doing (Mark 1:24; 3:11; 5:7, Luke 8:21). Again, the wisdom of YHVH in sending Jesus was hidden from them.
3) We’re told that, while humans certainly share in the responsibility for the crucifixion, Satan and the powers were working behind the scenes to bring it about (John 13:27 cf. 1 Cor. 2:6-8). These forces of evil helped orchestrate the crucifixion.
4) We’re taught that if the “princes of this world [age]” had understood the secret wisdom of YHVH, “they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Cor 2:8 cf. vss 6-7). Apparently, Satan and the powers regretted orchestrating Christ’s crucifixion once they learned of the wisdom of YHVH that was behind it.
5) Finally, we can begin to understand why the powers came to regret crucifying “the Lord of glory” when we read that it was by means of the crucifixion that the “handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us [i.e., the charge of our legal indebtedness]” was “[taken] out of the way [i.e., canceled]” as the powers were disarmed. In this way Christ “triumph[ed] over” the powers by "his cross” and even “made a shew of them openly” (Col. 2:14-15). Through Christ’s death and resurrection YHVH's enemies were vanquished and placed under his Messiah's feet, and ultimately His own in the end (1 Cor. 15:23-28).
Putting these five clues together, we can discern YHVH's Trojan Horse strategy in sending Jesus.
The powers couldn’t discern why Jesus came because YHVH's wisdom was hidden from them. YHVH's wisdom was motivated by unfathomable love, and since Satan and the other powers were evil, they lacked the capacity to understand it. Their evil hearts prevented them from suspecting what YHVH was up to.
What the powers did understand was that Jesus was mortal. This meant he was killable. Lacking the capacity to understand that this was the means by which YHVH would ultimately bring about the defeat of death (and thus, pave the road for the resurrection itself), they never suspected that making Jesus vulnerable to their evil might actually be part of YHVH's infinitely wise plan.
And so they took the bait (or "ransom"; Matt. 20:28, Mark 10:45, 1 Tim. 2:5-6). Utilizing Judas and other willing human agents, the powers played right into YHVH’s secret plan and orchestrated the crucifixion of the Messiah (Acts 2:22-23; 4:28). YHVH thus brilliantly used the self-inflicted incapacity of evil to understand love against itself. And, like light dispelling darkness, the unfathomably beautiful act of YHVH's love in sending the willing Messiah as a "ransom" to these blood-thirsty powers defeated them. The whole creation was in principle freed and reconciled to YHVH, while everything written against us humans was nailed to the cross, thus robbing the powers of the only legal claim they had on us. They were “spoiled [i.e., disempowered]” (Col. 2:14-15).
As happened to the Trojans in accepting the gift from the Greeks, in seizing on Christ’s vulnerability and orchestrating his crucifixion, the powers unwittingly cooperated with YHVH to unleash the one power in the world that dispels all evil and sets captives free. It’s the power of self-sacrificial love.

Why Penal Substitution Is Unbiblical

For the sake of keeping this already lengthy post as short as possible I'm not going to spend too much time on why exactly PSA (Penal Substitutionary Atonement) is inconsistent with Scripture, but I'll go ahead and point out the main reasons why I believe this is so, and let the reader look further into this subject by themselves, being that there are many resources out there which have devoted much more time than I ever could here in supporting this premise.

"Purge out therefore the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, as ye are unleavened. For even Christ our passover is sacrificed for us:"-1 Corinthians 5:7

The Passover is one of the two most prominent images in the New Testament given as a comparison to Christ's atonement and what it accomplished, (the other most common image being the Day of Atonement sacrifice).
In the Passover, the blood of the lamb on the door posts of the Hebrews in the book of Exodus was meant to mark out those who were YHVH's, not be a symbol of PSA, as the lamb itself was not being punished by God in place of the Hebrews, but rather the kingdom of Egypt (and thus, allegorically speaking, the kingdom of darkness which opposed YHVH) was what was being judged and punished, because those who were not "covered" by the blood of the lamb could be easily identified as not part of God's kingdom/covenant and liberated people.
Looking at the Day of Atonement sacrifice (which, again, Christ's death is repeatedly compared to throughout the New Testament), this ritual required a ram, a bull, and two goats (Lev. 16:3-5). The ram was for a burnt offering intended to please God (Lev. 16:3-4). The bull served as a sin offering for Aaron, the high priest, and his family. In this case, the sin offering restored the priest to ritual purity, allowing him to occupy sacred space and be near YHVH’s presence. Two goats taken from "the congregation” were needed for the single sin offering for the people (Lev. 16:5). So why two goats?
The high priest would cast lots over the two goats, with one chosen as a sacrifice “for the Lord” (Lev. 16:8). The blood of that goat would purify the people. The second goat was not sacrificed or designated “for the Lord.” On the contrary, this goat—the one that symbolically carried the sins away from the camp of Israel into the wilderness—was “for Azazel” (Lev. 16:8-10).
What—or who—is Azazel?
The Hebrew term azazel (עזאזל) occurs four times in Leviticus 16 but nowhere else in most people's canon of the Bible, (and I say "most people's canon," because some people do include 1 Enoch in their canon of Scripture, which of course goes into great detail about this "Azazel" figure). Many translations prefer to translate the term as a phrase, “the goat that goes away,” which is the same idea conveyed in the King James Version’s “scapegoat.” Other translations treat the word as a name: Azazel. The “scapegoat” option is possible, but since the phrase “for Azazel” parallels the phrase “for YHVH” (“for the Lord”), the wording suggests that two divine figures are being contrasted by the two goats.
A strong case can be made for translating the term as the name Azazel. Ancient Jewish texts show that Azazel was understood as a demonic figure associated with the wilderness. The Mishnah (ca. AD 200; Yoma 6:6) records that the goat for Azazel was led to a cliff and pushed over, ensuring it would not return with its death. This association of the wilderness with evil is also evident in the New Testament, as this was where Jesus met the devil (Matt. 4:1). Also, in Leviticus 17:1-7 we learn that some Israelites had been accustomed to sacrificing offerings to "devils" (alternatively translated as “goat demons”). The Day of Atonement replaced this illegitimate practice.
The second goat was not sent into the wilderness as a sacrifice to a foreign god or demon. The act of sending the live goat out into the wilderness, which was unholy ground, was to send the sins of the people where they belonged—to the demonic domain. With one goat sacrificed to bring purification and access to YHVH and one goat sent to carry the people’s sins to the demonic domain, this annual ritual reinforced the identity of the true God and His mercy and holiness.
When Jesus died on the cross for all of humanity’s sins, he was crucified outside the city, paralleling the sins of the people being cast to the wilderness via the goat to Azazel. Jesus died once for all sinners, negating the need for this ritual.
As previously stated, the goat which had all the sin put on it was sent alive off to the wilderness, while the blood of the goat which was blameless was used to purify the temple and the people. Penal substitution would necessitate the killing of the goat which had the sin put on it.
Mind you, this is the only sacrificial ritual of any kind in the Torah in which sins are placed on an animal. The only time it happens is this, and that animal is not sacrificed. Most PSA proponents unwittingly point to this ritual as evidence of their view, despite it actually serving as evidence to the contrary, because most people don't read their Old Testament and don't familiarize themselves with the "boring parts" like Leviticus (when it's actually rather important to do so, since that book explains how exactly animal offerings were to be carried out and why they were done in the first place).
In the New Testament, Christ's blood was not only meant to mark out those who were his, but also expel the presence of sin and ritual uncleanness so as to make the presence of YHVH manifest in the believer's life. Notice how God's wrath isn't poured out on Christ in our stead on this view, but rather His wrath was poured out on those who weren't covered, and the presence of sin and evil were merely removed by that which is pure and blameless (Christ's blood) for the believer.
All this is the difference between expiation and propitiation.

The Content of Paul's Gospel Message

When the New Testament writers talked about “the gospel,” they referred not to the Protestant doctrine of justification sola fide–the proposition that if we will stop trying to win God’s favor and only just believe that God has exchanged our sin for Christ’s perfect righteousness, then in God’s eyes we will have the perfect righteousness required both for salvation and for assuaging our guilty consciences–but rather they referred to the simple but explosive proposition Kyrios Christos, “Christ is Lord.” That is to say, the gospel was, properly speaking, the royal announcement that Jesus of Nazareth was the God of Israel’s promised Messiah, the King of kings and Lord of lords.
The New Testament writers were not writing in a cultural or linguistic vacuum and their language of euangelion (good news) and euangelizomai would have been understood by their audience in fairly specific ways. Namely, in the Greco-Roman world for which the New Testament authors wrote, euangelion/euangelizomai language typically had to do with either A) the announcement of the accession of a ruler, or B) the announcement of a victory in battle, and would probably have been understood along those lines.
Let’s take the announcements of a new ruler first. The classic example of such a language is the Priene Calendar Inscription, dating to circa 9 BC, which celebrates the rule (and birthday) of Caesar Augustus as follows:
"It was seeming to the Greeks in Asia, in the opinion of the high priest Apollonius of Menophilus Azanitus: Since Providence, which has ordered all things of our life and is very much interested in our life, has ordered things in sending Augustus, whom she filled with virtue for the benefit of men, sending him as a savior [soter] both for us and for those after us, him who would end war and order all things, and since Caesar by his appearance [epiphanein] surpassed the hopes of all those who received the good tidings [euangelia], not only those who were benefactors before him, but even the hope among those who will be left afterward, and the birthday of the god [he genethlios tou theou] was for the world the beginning of the good tidings [euangelion] through him; and Asia resolved it in Smyrna."
The association of the term euangelion with the announcement of Augustus’ rule is clear enough and is typical of how this language is used elsewhere. To give another example, Josephus records that at the news of the accession of the new emperor Vespasian (69 AD) “every city kept festival for the good news (euangelia) and offered sacrifices on his behalf.” (The Jewish War, IV.618). Finally, a papyrus dating to ca. 498 AD begins:
"Since I have become aware of the good news (euangeliou) about the proclamation as Caesar (of Gaius Julius Verus Maximus Augustus)…"
This usage occurs also in the Septuagint, the Greek translations of the Jewish Scriptures. For instance LXX Isaiah 52:7 reads, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news (euangelizomenou), who publishes peace, who brings good news (euangelizomenos) of salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.'" Similarly, LXX Isaiah 40:9-10 reads:

"…Go up on a high mountain, you who bring good tidings (ho euangelizomenos) to Sion; lift up your voice with strength, you who bring good tidings (ho euangelizomenos); lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Ioudas, “See your God!” Behold, the Lord comes with strength, and his arm with authority (kyrieias)…."-NETS, Esaias 40:9-10

This consistent close connection between euangelion/euangelizomai language and announcements of rule strongly suggests that many of the initial hearers/readers of the early Christians’ evangelical language would likely have understood that language as the announcement of a new ruler (see, e.g., Acts 17:7), and, unless there is strong NT evidence to the contrary, we should presume that the NT writers probably intended their language to be so understood.
However, the other main way in which euangelion/euangelizomai language was used in the Greco-Roman world was with reference to battle reports, announcements of victory in war. A classic example of this sort of usage can be found in LXX 2 Samuel 18:19ff, where David receives word that his traitorous son, Absalom, has been defeated in battle. Euangelion/euangelizomai is used throughout the passage for the communications from the front.
As already shown throughout this post, the NT speaks of Jesus’s death and resurrection as a great victory over the powers that existed at that time and, most importantly, over death itself. Jesus’ conquest of the principalities and powers was the establishment of his rule and comprehensive authority over heaven and earth, that is, of his Lordship over all things (again, at that time).
This was the content of Paul's gospel message...

Justification, and the "New" Perspective on Paul

The following quotation is from The Gospel Coalition, and I believe it to be a decently accurate summary of the NPP (New Perspective on Paul), despite it being from a source which is in opposition to it:

The New Perspective on Paul, a major scholarly shift that began in the 1980s, argues that the Jewish context of the New Testament has been wrongly understood and that this misunderstand[ing] has led to errors in the traditional-Protestant understanding of justification. According to the New Perspective, the Jewish systems of salvation were not based on works-righteousness but rather on covenantal nomism, the belief that one enters the people of God by grace and stays in through obedience to the covenant. This means that Paul could not have been referring to works-righteousness by his phrase “works of the law”; instead, he was referring to Jewish boundary markers that made clear who was or was not within the people of God. For the New Perspective, this is the issue that Paul opposes in the NT. Thus, justification takes on two aspects for the New Perspective rather than one; initial justification is by faith (grace) and recognizes covenant status (ecclesiology), while final justification is partially by works, albeit works produced by the Spirit.

I believe what's called the "new perspective" is actually rather old, and that the Reformers' view of Paul is what is truly new, being that the Lutheran understanding of Paul is simply not Biblical.
The Reformation perspective understands Paul to be arguing against a legalistic Jewish culture that seeks to earn their salvation through works. However, supporters of the NPP argue that Paul has been misread. We contend he was actually combating Jews who were boasting because they were God's people, the "elect" or the "chosen ones." Their "works," so to speak, were done to show they were God's covenant people and not to earn their salvation.
The key questions involve Paul’s view(s) of the law and the meaning of the controversy in which Paul was engaged. Paul strongly argued that we are “justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law” (Gal. 2:16b). Since the time of Martin Luther, this has been understood as an indictment of legalistic efforts to merit favor before God. Judaism was cast in the role of the medieval "church," and so Paul’s protests became very Lutheran, with traditional-Protestant theology reinforced in all its particulars (along with its limitations) as a result. In hermeneutical terms, then, the historical context of Paul’s debate will answer the questions we have about what exactly the apostle meant by the phrase "works of the law," along with other phrases often used as support by the Reformers for their doctrine of Sola Fide (justification by faith alone), like when Paul mentions "the righteousness of God."
Obviously an in-depth analysis of the Pauline corpus and its place in the context of first-century Judaism would take us far beyond the scope of this brief post. We can, however, quickly survey the topography of Paul’s thought in context, particularly as it has emerged through the efforts of recent scholarship, and note some salient points which may be used as the basis of a refurbished soteriology.
[Note: The more popular scholars associated with the NPP are E.P. Sanders, James Dunn, and N.T. Wright. Dunn was the first to coin the term "The New Perspective" in a 1983 Manson Memorial Lecture, The New Perspective on Paul and the Law.]
Varying authors since the early 1900's have brought up the charge that Paul was misread by those in the tradition of Martin Luther and other Protestant Reformers. Yet, it wasn't until E.P. Sanders' 1977 book, Paul and Palestinian Judaism, that scholars began to pay much attention to the issue. In his book, Sanders argues that the Judaism of Paul's day has been wrongly criticized as a religion of "works-salvation" by those in the Protestant tradition.
A fundamental premise in the NPP is that Judaism was actually a religion of grace. Sander's puts it clearly:
"On the point at which many have found the decisive contrast between Paul and Judaism - grace and works - Paul is in agreement with Palestinian Judaism... Salvation is by grace but judgment is according to works'...God saves by grace, but... within the framework established by grace he rewards good deeds and punishes transgression." (Paul and Palestinian Judaism, p. 543)
N.T. Wright adds that, "we have misjudged early Judaism, especially Pharisaism, if we have thought of it as an early version of Pelagianism," (Wright, What Saint Paul Really Said, p. 32).
Sanders has coined a now well-known phrase to describe the character of first-century Palestinian Judaism: “covenantal nomism.” The meaning of “covenantal nomism” is that human obedience is not construed as the means of entering into God’s covenant. That cannot be earned; inclusion within the covenant body is by the grace of God. Rather, obedience is the means of maintaining one’s status within the covenant. And with its emphasis on divine grace and forgiveness, Judaism was never a religion of legalism.
If covenantal nomism was operating as the primary category under which Jews understood the Law, then when Jews spoke of obeying commandments, or when they required strict obedience of themselves and fellow Jews, it was because they were "keeping the covenant," rather than out of legalism.
More recently, N.T. Wright has made a significant contribution in his little book, What Saint Paul Really Said. Wright’s focus is the gospel and the doctrine of justification. With incisive clarity he demonstrates that the core of Paul’s gospel was not justification by faith, but the death and resurrection of Christ and his exaltation as Lord. The proclamation of the gospel was the proclamation of Jesus as Lord, the Messiah who fulfilled Israel’s expectations. Romans 1:3-4, not 1:16-17, is the gospel, contrary to traditional thinking. Justification is not the center of Paul’s thought, but an outworking of it:
"[T]he doctrine of justification by faith is not what Paul means by ‘the gospel’. It is implied by the gospel; when the gospel is proclaimed, people come to faith and so are regarded by God as members of his people. But ‘the gospel’ is not an account of how people get saved. It is, as we saw in an earlier chapter, the proclamation of the lordship of Jesus Christ….Let us be quite clear. ‘The gospel’ is the announcement of Jesus’ lordship, which works with power to bring people into the family of Abraham, now redefined around Jesus Christ and characterized solely by faith in him. ‘Justification’ is the doctrine which insists that all those who have this faith belong as full members of this family, on this basis and no other." (pp. 132, 133)
Wright brings us to this point by showing what “justification” would have meant in Paul’s Jewish context, bound up as it was in law-court terminology, eschatology, and God’s faithfulness to God’s covenant.
Specifically, Wright explodes the myth that the pre-Christian Saul was a pious, proto-Pelagian moralist seeking to earn his individual passage into heaven. Wright capitalizes on Paul’s autobiographical confessions to paint rather a picture of a zealous Jewish nationalist whose driving concern was to cleanse Israel of Gentiles as well as Jews who had lax attitudes toward the Torah. Running the risk of anachronism, Wright points to a contemporary version of the pre-Christian Saul: Yigal Amir, the zealous Torah-loyal Jew who assassinated Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin for exchanging Israel’s land for peace. Wright writes:
"Jews like Saul of Tarsus were not interested in an abstract, ahistorical system of salvation... They were interested in the salvation which, they believed, the one true God had promised to his people Israel." (pp. 32, 33)
Wright maintains that as a Christian, Paul continued to challenge paganism by taking the moral high ground of the creational monotheist. The doctrine of justification was not what Paul preached to the Gentiles as the main thrust of his gospel message; it was rather “the thing his converts most needed to know in order to be assured that they really were part of God’s people” after they had responded to the gospel message.
Even while taking the gospel to the Gentiles, however, Paul continued to criticize Judaism “from within” even as he had as a zealous Pharisee. But whereas his mission before was to root out those with lax attitudes toward the Torah, now his mission was to demonstrate that God’s covenant faithfulness (righteousness) has already been revealed in Jesus Christ.
At this point Wright carefully documents Paul’s use of the controversial phrase “God’s righteousness” and draws out the implications of his meaning against the background of a Jewish concept of justification. The righteousness of God and the righteousness of the party who is “justified” cannot be confused because the term bears different connotations for the judge than for the plaintiff or defendant. The judge is “righteous” if his or her judgment is fair and impartial; the plaintiff or defendant is “righteous” if the judge rules in his or her favor. Hence:
"If we use the language of the law court, it makes no sense whatsoever to say that the judge imputes, imparts, bequeaths, conveys or otherwise transfers his righteousness to either the plaintiff or the defendant. Righteousness is not an object, a substance or a gas which can be passed across the courtroom. For the judge to be righteous does not mean that the court has found in his favor. For the plaintiff or defendant to be righteous does not mean that he or she has tried the case properly or impartially. To imagine the defendant somehow receiving the judge’s righteousness is simply a category mistake. That is not how the language works." (p. 98)
However, Wright makes the important observation that even with the forensic metaphor, Paul’s theology is not so much about the courtroom as it is about God’s love.
Righteousness is not an impersonal, abstract standard, a measuring-stick or a balancing scale. That was, and still is, a Greek view. Righteousness, Biblically speaking, grows out of covenant relationship. We forgive because we have been forgiven (Matt. 18:21-35); “we love" because God “first loved us” (1 John 4:19). Love is the fulfillment of the law (Rom. 13:8, 10, Gal 5:14, Jam. 2:8). Paul even looked forward to a day when “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad” (2 Cor. 5:10), and he acknowledged that his clear conscience did not necessarily ensure this verdict (1 Cor. 4:4), but he was confident nevertheless. Paul did in fact testify of his clear conscience: “For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our conversation [i.e., behavior] in the world, and more abundantly to you-ward” (2 Cor. 1:12). He was aware that he had not yet “attained” (Phil. 3:12-14), that he still struggled with the flesh, yet he was confident of the value of his performance (1 Cor. 9:27). These are hardly the convictions of someone who intends to rest entirely on the merits of an alien righteousness imputed to his or her account.
Wright went on to flesh out the doctrine of justification in Galatians, Philippians, and Romans. The “works of the law” are not proto-Pelagian efforts to earn salvation, but rather “sabbath [keeping], food-laws, circumcision” (p. 132). Considering the controversy in Galatia, Wright writes:
"Despite a long tradition to the contrary, the problem Paul addresses in Galatians is not the question of how precisely someone becomes a Christian, or attains to a relationship with God….The problem he addresses is: should his ex-pagan converts be circumcised or not? Now this question is by no means obviously to do with the questions faced by Augustine and Pelagius, or by Luther and Erasmus. On anyone’s reading, but especially within its first-century context, it has to do quite obviously with the question of how you define the people of God: are they to be defined by the badges of Jewish race, or in some other way? Circumcision is not a ‘moral’ issue; it does not have to do with moral effort, or earning salvation by good deeds. Nor can we simply treat it as a religious ritual, then designate all religious ritual as crypto-Pelagian good works, and so smuggle Pelagius into Galatia as the arch-opponent after all. First-century thought, both Jewish and Christian, simply doesn’t work like that…. [T]he polemic against the Torah in Galatians simply will not work if we ‘translate’ it into polemic either against straightforward self-help moralism or against the more subtle snare of ‘legalism’, as some have suggested. The passages about the law only work — and by ‘work’ I mean they will only make full sense in their contexts, which is what counts in the last analysis — when we take them as references to the Jewish law, the Torah, seen as the national charter of the Jewish race." (pp. 120-122)
The debate about justification, then, “wasn’t so much about soteriology as about ecclesiology; not so much about salvation as about the church.” (p. 119)
To summarize the theology of Paul in his epistles, the apostle mainly spent time arguing to those whom he were sending letters that salvation in Christ was available to all men without distinction. Jews and Gentiles alike may accept the free gift; it was not limited to any one group. Paul was vehement about this, especially in his letter to the Romans. As such, I will finish this post off by summarizing the letter itself, so as to provide Biblical support for the premises of the NPP and for what the scholars I referenced have thus far argued.
After his introduction in the epistle to an already believing and mostly Gentile audience (who would've already been familiar with the gospel proclaimed in verses 3-4), Paul makes a thematic statement in 1:16: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.” This statement is just one of many key statements littered throughout the book of Romans that give us proper understanding of the point Paul wished to make to the interlocutors of his day, namely, salvation is available to all, whether Jew or Gentile.
In 1:16 Paul sets out a basic theme of his message in the letter to the Romans. All who believed, whether they be Jew or Gentile, were saved by the power of the gospel. The universal nature of salvation was explicitly stated. The gospel saved all without distinction, whether Jew or Greek; salvation was through the gospel of Jesus Christ. Immediately after this thematic declaration, Paul undertakes to show the universal nature of sin and guilt. In 1:18-32 Paul shows how the Gentile is guilty before God. Despite evidence of God and his attributes, which is readily available to all, they have failed to honor YHVH as God and have exchanged His glory for idolatrous worship and self-promotion. As a consequence, God handed them over in judgment (1:18-32). Paul moves to denunciation of those who would judge others while themselves being guilty of the very same offenses (2:1-5) and argues that all will be judged according to their deeds (2:6). This judgment applies to all, namely, Jew and Greek (2:9-10). This section serves as somewhat of a transition in Paul’s argument. He has highlighted the guilt of the Gentiles (1:18ff) and will shortly outline the guilt of the Jew (2:17-24). The universal statement of 2:1-11 sets the stage for Paul’s rebuke of Jewish presumption. It was not possession of the Law which delivered; it was faithful obedience. It is better to have no Law and yet to obey the essence of the Law (2:12-16) than to have the Law and not obey (2:17-3:4). Paul then defends the justice of God’s judgment (3:5-8), which leads to the conclusion that all (Jew and Gentile) are guilty before God (3:9).
Paul argues that it was a mistaken notion to think that salvation was the prerogative of the Jew only. This presumption is wrong for two reasons. First, it leads to the mistaken assumption that only Jews were eligible for this vindication (Paul deals with this misunderstanding in chapter 4 where he demonstrates that Abraham was justified by faith independently of the Law and is therefore the father of all who believe, Jew and Gentile alike). Second, it leads to the equally mistaken conclusion that all who were Jews are guaranteed of vindication. Paul demonstrates how this perspective, which would call God’s integrity into question since Paul was assuming many Jews would not experience this vindication, was misguided. He did this by demonstrating that it was never the case that all physical descendants of Israel (Jacob) were likewise recipients of the promise. In the past (9:6-33) as in the present (at that time; 11:1-10), only a remnant was preserved and only a remnant would experience vindication. Paul also argued that the unbelief of national Israel (the non-remnant) had the purpose of extending the compass of salvation. The unbelief of one group made the universal scope of the gospel possible. This universalism was itself intended to bring about the vindication of the unbelieving group (11:11-16). As a result of faith, all (Jew and Gentile) could be branches of the olive tree (11:17-24). Since faith in Christ was necessary to remain grafted into the tree, no one could boast of his position. All, Jew and Gentile alike, were dependent upon the mercy and grace of God. As a result of God’s mysterious plan, He would bring about the vindication of His people (11:25-27). [Note: It is this author's belief that this vindication occurred around 66-70 AD, with the Parousia of Christ's Church; this author is Full-Preterist in their Eschatology.]

I posted this under relationship before and was toasted there which is not my intent. I am really looking to get constructive advice here.
I have three children and am divorced. Their father and I both paid for our college educations we are both employed and my kids have jobs and college scholarships and we help them but it was important to us that we put the responsibility on our children. So far this has worked well for us. My children are mostly independent and are not around much. But we spend important days/ dates together. Generally a good relationship.
My partner and I have been together for a year avd her 21 year old daughter lives with him. He has been providing everything for her. He says when he got divorced he felt badly and sees that guilt is carrying on. He drives the daughter to the Dr the dentist…. Pays for everything and she has not had any adult responsibilities never worked or even did an internship or volunteered . In addition whenever she is not in a relationship (she brings boyfriends home and they sleep together) she will just show up at our dates ( they follow one another on the phone) and invite herself to our outings. Sometimes she will tell me this is what he likes or this is how we do X or so on. Lately I started telling her she is not invited to every date and asked her to please don’t assume.
Fundamentally I think we have very differing parenting and I have voice Ed my concerns to him. How he parents is his business but I don’t like being in a 3some with his daughter I feel like she tells me what to do. Lately I started correcting her and I don’t like this!
I guess my question is: given how difficult it is to find a partner at this stage in my life is this relationship salvageable? I mean I really don’t like his kids ( through no fault of their own) they are raised differently and I don’t see how they can ever move on to be responsible adults. I don’t suggest that I will take on parenting them bc I won’t but how will I have a future with him if I don’t like his children who are clearly far from being independent adults?
Thank you for your responsible and constructive advice.

Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
Dennis was shifting uncomfortably. I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you. I know your date from Into the Woods. I bet she could tell you some entertaining stories about that show...” Flo laughed out loud, well aware of the many misadventures to which I'd referred. Of course, she might have been laughing because Dennis never, ever listened to anyone else's stories. He was too busy telling, re-telling, slightly altering, and exaggerating his own.
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Me: Oh, you’ve heard of me? Small world! You guys picked a great night to come here. They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely!
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! Nice to meet you, Denny. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled uncontrollably.). You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show.
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently, he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!

Welcome to the book club New Voices! In this book club we want to highlight books by debut authors and open the stage for under-represented and under-appreciated writers from all walks of life. New voices refers to the authors as well as the protagonists, and the goal is to include viewpoints away from the standard and most common. For more information and a short description of how we plan to run this club and how you can participate, please have a look at the announcement post.
It's time for second chances! I've selected a few books from previous polls, that didn't quite make it and deserve a second chance:

Under Fortunate Stars by Ren Hutchings

Fleeing the final days of the generations-long war with the alien Felen, smuggler Jereth Keeven's freighter the Jonah breaks down in a strange rift in deep space, with little chance of rescue—until they encounter the research vessel Gallion, which claims to be from 152 years in the future. The Gallion's chief engineer Uma Ozakka has always been fascinated with the past, especially the tale of the Fortunate Five, who ended the war with the Felen. When the Gallion rescues a run-down junk freighter, Ozakka is shocked to recognize the Five's legendary ship—and the Five's famed leader, Eldric Leesongronski, among the crew. But nothing else about Leesongronski and his crewmates seems to match up with the historical record. With their ships running out of power in the rift, more than the lives of both crews may be at stake.

Bingo squares: book club

The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen

The book tells an intergenerational story of a mother and son struggling to relate to each other—the mother an immigrant to the United States who wants to make a home for her family in an unfamiliar country; the son trying to figure out the best way to come out to his parents. Through telling each other fairy tales, they're able to find common ground.

Bingo squares: bookclub

Bacchanal by Veronica Henry

Evil lives in a traveling carnival roaming the Depression-era South. But the carnival’s newest act, a peculiar young woman with latent magical powers, may hold the key to defeating it. Her time has come. Abandoned by her family, alone on the wrong side of the color line with little to call her own, Eliza Meeks is coming to terms with what she does have. It’s a gift for communicating with animals. To some, she’s a magical tender. To others, a she-devil. To a talent prospector, she’s a crowd-drawing oddity. And the Bacchanal Carnival is Eliza’s ticket out of the swamp trap of Baton Rouge. Among fortune-tellers, carnies, barkers, and folks even stranger than herself, Eliza finds a new home. But the Bacchanal is no ordinary carnival. An ancient demon has a home there too. She hides behind an iridescent disguise. She feeds on innocent souls. And she’s met her match in Eliza, who’s only beginning to understand the purpose of her own burgeoning powers. Only then can Eliza save her friends, find her family, and fight the sway of a primordial demon preying upon the human world. Rolling across a consuming dust bowl landscape, Eliza may have found her destiny.

Bingo squares: bookclub

The Hacienda by Isabel Cañas

Mexican Gothic meets Rebecca in this debut supernatural suspense novel, set in the aftermath of the Mexican War of Independence, about a remote house, a sinister haunting, and the woman pulled into their clutches...
In the overthrow of the Mexican government, Beatriz’s father is executed and her home destroyed. When handsome Don Rodolfo Solórzano proposes, Beatriz ignores the rumors surrounding his first wife’s sudden demise, choosing instead to seize the security his estate in the countryside provides. She will have her own home again, no matter the cost.
But Hacienda San Isidro is not the sanctuary she imagined.
When Rodolfo returns to work in the capital, visions and voices invade Beatriz’s sleep. The weight of invisible eyes follows her every move. Rodolfo’s sister, Juana, scoffs at Beatriz’s fears—but why does she refuse to enter the house at night? Why does the cook burn copal incense at the edge of the kitchen and mark its doorway with strange symbols? What really happened to the first Doña Solórzano?
Beatriz only knows two things for certain: Something is wrong with the hacienda. And no one there will help her.
Desperate for help, she clings to the young priest, Padre Andrés, as an ally. No ordinary priest, Andrés will have to rely on his skills as a witch to fight off the malevolent presence haunting the hacienda and protect the woman for whom he feels a powerful, forbidden attraction. But even he might not be enough to battle the darkness.
Far from a refuge, San Isidro may be Beatriz’s doom.

Bingo squares: bookclub

The Heretic‘s Guide to Homecoming by Sienna Tristen

WINNER OF THE 2019 READERVIEWS AWARD FOR FANTASY! WINNER OF THE 2019 IPPY AWARD FOR FANTASY!
“Life is transformation. You change or you die.”
Ashamed of his past and overwhelmed by his future, Ronoah Genoveffa Elizzi-denna Pilanovani feels too small for his own name. After a graceless exit from his homeland in the Acharrioni desert, his anxiety has sabotaged every attempt at redemption. Asides from a fiery devotion to his godling, the one piece of home he brought with him, he has nothing.
That is, until he meets Reilin. Beguiling, bewildering Reilin, who whisks Ronoah up into a cross-continental pilgrimage to the most sacred place on the planet. The people they encounter on the way—children of the sea, a priestess and her band of storytellers, the lonely ghosts of monsters—are grim and whimsical in equal measure. Each has their part to play in rewriting Ronoah’s personal narrative.
One part fantasy travelogue, one part emotional underworld journey, The Heretic’s Guide to Homecoming is a sumptuous, slow-burning story about stories and the way they shape our lives.

Bingo squares: bookclub
Do you like the selection? Have you already read one of the books and want to recommend it to others? Do you know any additional Bingo squares for any of the books? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below.

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Voting will run until May 27 and the winner will be announced on May 28

Welcome to Treatment Tuesday! Show what fertilizer, pest / weed control, soil ammendments, or other treatments you're applying. Additionally, any mechanical treatments like dethatching or aerating.
Share your thoughts on the price, quality, or results.
Useful Links:

Guides & Calculators: Measure Your Lawn • Make a Property Map • Herbicide Application Calculators • Fertilizing Lawns • Grow From Seed • Grow From Sod • Organic Lawn Care • Other Lawn Calculators
Lawn Pest Control: Weeds & What To Use • Common Weeds • What's Wrong Here? • How To Spray Weeds • MSU Weed ID Tool • Is This a Weed? • Herbicide Types • ID Turf Diseases • Fungi & Control Options • Insects & Control Options
Fertilizing: Fertilizing Lawns • How To Spread Granular Fertilizer • Natural Lawn Care • Fertilizer Calculator
US Cooperative Extension Services: Arkansas - University of Arkansas • California - UC Davis • Florida - University of Florida • Indiana - Purdue University • Nebraska - University of Nebraska-Lincoln • New Hampshire - The University of New Hampshire • New Jersey - Rutgers University • New York - Cornell University • Ohio - The Ohio State University • Oregon - Oregon State University • Texas - Texas A&M • Vermont - The University of Vermont
Canadian Cooperative Extension Services: Ontario - University of Guelph

Recurring Threads:

Daily No Stupid Questions Thread • Mowsday Monday • Treatment Tuesday • Weed ID Wednesday • That Didn't Go Well Thursday • Finally Friday: Weekend Lawn Plans • Soil Saturday • Lawn of the Month • Monthly Mower Megathread • Monthly Professionals Podium • Tri-Annual Thatch Thread • Quarterly Seed & Sod Megathread

I was given a take home for the second stage of an interview (First stage was a DSA question) but unfortunately fell sick a day after and won't be able to complete in time. What do you suggest I go?

Hi everyone, I’m 28 F. Finally moved out from my abusive family home. I had moved out previously for 2 years around 23, but had to move back during the pandemic and it never really felt like I moved out, at least mentally. when I returned I didn’t realise I had changed and I spent the next 4 years mentally untangling from my mother, who was still very much abusive in every sense except physically no longer (I assume because I was fucking grown and I didn’t let her pass my physical boundary). Anyways I went through all the stages, defining my boundaries, grey rocking and finally no contact even though we were in the same house. she eventually verbally said she cut me off whilst I was still in the same house. That hurt like a mf. But that gave me the motivation to get a job, save money and move out (which was a plan I always had) but the part of me that always held onto the idea that maybe someday I’ll get a mother that I deserve held me back. It took her to say that we are nothing to her to finally realise that we are indeed nothing. I say we because she said it to my siblings and I.
Anyways it’s been only a day since I moved out. For some reason I thought that I would not exist when I leave, like I needed being invisible to my mother to know that I exist. Non-existing to someone made me feel like I existed because I am something that is being ignored. You can’t ignore something that isn’t there. It honestly felt like my heart was dying every time I thought about leaving, it was like the last part of me that belonged to my old self, was dying.
I did it anyway, it’s my second day. And guess what, I do exist.
I thought I would share this because I feel like I’ve got a long way to go but I think this is some kind of success. I’m kind of inspired by myself for doing this. Knowing how hard it’s been.

Cmdr. Kara Wellington wiped beads of sweat from her forehead and swatted at yet another mosquito for what seemed like the thousandth time. As a native of Sudbury, she was thoroughly unacclimated to the heat, humidity, and flying insect biomass of British Honduras. Still, it was necessary to be as close to the Equator as the CSA could manage, to give her the best shot at reaching orbit today, and the United Maritimes had kindly offered to provide a launch facility in Honduras after the success of the first Vulcan flight.
Over the PA, she heard the announcer say "T MINUS ONE HOUR." This spacesuit was hot, heavy, and bulky, but she knew that it provided the last line of defense against the otherwise-certain death that awaited her in the event of a malfunction on orbit. Technician Willard brought over her helmet and placed it on the locking ring, confirming the seals were tight, while Technician Roberts attached her gloves and checked the respiration hoses. She was now fully insulated from the outside world, and the feeling was definitely eerie - sound was near impossible to hear if it wasn't broadcast over radio, and touch had an odd delay. Willard tapped on her chestpiece and made a thumbs-up gesture, indicating that everything was working correctly.
"T MINUS FORTY MINUTES."
It was time to get underway to the rocket, which stood taller than most of the facilities on Launch Site Robarts (save the Vehicle Assembly Building where it had been constructed), and taller than most buildings Wellington had seen in her life. Gas hissed from the fueling hose connectors eerily, as the methane and oxygen were loaded into the storage tanks.Three massive E-1 methalox engines were mounted to the bottom of the first stage of the rocket, which would do most of the work in getting her through the atmosphere before the vacuum-specialized second stage J-2 hydrogen/oxygen engine took over.
The technicians guided her to the elevator that ran to the top of the rocket stack, then rode up with her. Roberts placed his hand on her parachute pack and said "You've got this, Commander!"
"T MINUS TWENTY MINUTES."
Commander Wellington buckled the seven point harness around her, and went over the control scheme one last time. She had seen it plenty of times in the novel flight simulator that CSA had used in training, but it was still a complicated layout of analog switches and dials, and it paid to be painstakingly familiar when it came to this.
She made a thumbs up gesture toward the hatch, where Willard and Roberts waited. They mounted the hatch, and together the three of them secured it to the capsule.
"T MINUS FIVE MINUTES."
Everything on the dashboard looked exactly like it had in the simulator, which was reassuring to no end.
"T MINUS THREE MINUTES. COMMENCE ENGINE TEST."
She felt the rocket shudder under her as the fueling hoses disconnected and the engines began the pre-launch sequence.
"T MINUS ONE MINUTE."
Well, we're all in now!
"T MINUS THIRTY SECONDS TO LIFTOFF. INITIATE IGNITION SEQUENCE."
At first, she heard nothing, as the only thing that happened was the water suppression system kicking in to protect the pad. Then, a thunderous roar, as thousands of pounds of methane and liquid oxygen poured forth through the nozzles of the E-1s and ignited, causing the rocket to strain against its bindings.
"FULL THRUST ACHIEVED. T MINUS FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. WE HAVE LIFTOFF!"
Hestia I soared upwards into the abyss of space, carrying Commander Wellington and the hopes of the Canadian people with her. As planned, the E-1s cut off as the rocket approached the upper atmosphere, and the bottom stage of the rocket dropped away into the Atlantic Ocean that just twenty years ago had swallowed so much of human civilization. The one J-2 on the second stage ignited, and carried Hestia I into a medium Earth orbit. There, with experimental freeze dried food and a copious supply of water, Kara Wellington stayed for three days, seeing the sunrise multiple times and being brought to tears each time by the sight of the sun peeking around the Earth's horizon. Eventually, though, it was time to come home. With Mission Control's direction, she turned the rocket using the OMS and then expended the last of the J-2's fuel to put herself back on a suborbital trajectory, aiming for a point near the coast of Honduras, then jettisoning the second stage. The capsule drifted peacefully for a few minutes, before it was time to prepare for re-entry.
The telltale glow appeared outside the window, just as she knew it would, and the ablative heat shield mounted to the bottom of the capsule blunted the incredibly hot temperatures outside that would have disintegrated her and just about everything not coated in ceramic tiles specifically meant for the purpose. Eventually, the glow and the rocking of the capsule subsided, and the atmospheric blue returned to the window. The capsule's parachutes worked perfectly, thanks to rigorous testing following the Zander incident, and her capsule splashed down a few kilometers from the expected landing zone. Before long, a Province-class airship was overhead, winching her capsule aboard using a powerful crane, and Premier MacDonald himself welcomed Canada's first true astronaut back to Earth.