When I was really young. maybe three years old, my mother took us to Shenley Park in Bridgeport, CT. Both my parents would take us to this park. My father liked this mausoleum with two lion statues in the front. He would also take us (take me mostly) to launch water bottle rockets.
My mother would go with another woman and her kids and both of them, with us kids trailing behind.
Now both my parents took us out to walk in nature, but the way that they did it was different.
My father concentrated on going from A to B. Doing something there (launching a rocket, taking pictures, walking through leaves, or visiting a model train shed) while my mother would spend most of the time talking with her friend, with us kids trailing behind.
I remember those walks.
Once it was Spring, a truly glorious Bridgeport Conn. morning / afternoon, and we all ran the landscaped hills. Ah. A moment that I will always treasure.
Now, if it was my father, he’d probably pull out a kite and have us flying those things in the great fresh bright blue sky.
But still, I have memories… happy ones… of both. Once, my mother befriended another mother who’s son was playing with a model boat in the stream. And I got to watch.
There are different ways to experience life. None are better than others. Just both are just as good.
Kudos to my mom, and to my pop.
Today…
Has a super rich person ever been treated so badly at a store that they then turned around and bought the store just to fire the employee?
There was a guy who owned a bar and grill in Carmel California. He also started selling ice cream out the front of the bar. The snooty local council felt that it looked tacky to have people walking down the street slurping ice cream, so they banned the selling of take away ice cream. They also banned the riding of skate boards in Carmel.
So this guy runs for mayor, wins the election, rescinds both laws and then he resumes selling ice cream.
His name is Clint Eastwood and the bar is called The Hogs Breath Inn.
What’s a small act of kindness you’ve witnessed or experienced that you’ll never forget?
40+ years ago, when I was pregnant with my 3rd child, I had to drive 500 miles to my parents house in the St. Louis area to get all of my stored baby items. I hit the StL area right at rush hour; so I’m driving down the interstate, pregnant and with two kids under five…and a tire blew. I was pretty sure I knew the mechanics of changing a tire, but I had never actually done it all by myself. It was too far to walk for help with the little ones, (in the days before cell phones) I knew I had to do it myself. I had to unload all the luggage out of the trunk to get to the spare tire. Scared to death that the kids would try to get out of the car on the highway, I was unloading as fast as I could. Got the car jacked up, switched the tires and was getting ready to lower the car back down when a VW bus pulled up. The driver had seen me broken down, but it was too late for him to stop, so he had driven up to the next exit, turned around, driven back behind me, turned around again and caught up to me, a distance of almost 10 miles. I am forever thankful he did, because I did not know I had to tighten the lug nuts again after lowering the car, and that tire would have left me behind. He also helped me reload my trunk and waited for me to get under way before he left. I still thank God for that young man being on that road at that particular day and time.
Woman Spent 3Days in Heaven; REVEALS WHAT Will Happen to HUMANITY This YEAR & Beyond!
Carne Guisada
Ingredients
- 3 pounds beef stew meat
- 1/4 cup water
- Salt and pepper, to taste
- 2 cans diced Ro*Tel tomatoes with green chiles
- 3 cloves garlic minced
- 1 cup chopped onion
- 1 diced green bell pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon oregano
- 1 teaspoon chili powder
- 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
Instructions
- Place stew meat, 1/4 cup water, salt and pepper in slow cooker.
- Cook on HIGH for 1 1/2 hours.
- Drain juice from tomatoes into measuring cup. Add tomatoes, garlic, onion and bell pepper to slow cooker. Stir well. Let simmer on HIGH for 30 minutes.
- Add cumin, oregano and chili powder to slow cooker and stir.
- Blend tomato juice and enough water to equal 1 1/2 cups liquid with flour. Stir into meat/vegetable mixture.
- Cook on LOW for 3 to 4 hours until sauce is thick.
- Serve with warm flour tortillas.
Midas’ touch: A dystopian message (from an era after Nuclear Winter)
Submitted into Contest #213 in response to: Write about someone with a Midas touch: everything they touch turns to [fill in the blank].… view prompt
Belladona Vulpa
I write to you from a world you might find difficult to imagine, a world shaped by the reckless desires of those who came before me. It’s like the ancient tale of King Midas of Phrygia, whose touch turned everything to gold. Our own “Midas’ touch” turned our dreams into greed and our ambitions into disaster.
In the fragments of what was once known as Istanbul, a small settlement now struggling to survive, I’ve grown up without ever glimpsing the graceful flight of a bird. The birds, like many other creatures, were lost to our insatiable thirst for more. I ache for their songs I’ve only read about in ancient texts. My name is Ari, and I’m captivated by the remnants of history, especially the stories of creatures and wonders we lost.
In the age-old tale of King Midas, his fabled touch possessed the power to turn ordinary objects into glistening gold at his slightest contact. This enchanting gift was something he chose himself from the god Dionysus when he could have asked for anything. Initially seen as a blessing, soon evolved into a heart-wrenching curse that isolated him from the world he cherished. His trusted stallion turned into a golden statue, food became gold, and wine turned to metal taste, he would spit it out. His beloved daughter, whom he held dearer than all the treasures he amassed, was transformed into a lifeless golden statue when she ran to her father’s arms for a dear embrace. His servants scared, abandoned him. His carriage was too heavy, and he could only move on foot, in thirst, starvation, and horror for he knew he would die soon and all that gold couldn’t save him.
This poignant tale is a haunting reminder that even the most coveted abilities can unravel into tragedy when unchecked desire overrides reason, just as we, in our own time, yearned for boundless advancements but sowed the seeds of our world’s ruin.
King Midas’ story mirrors ours in a haunting way. Humans craved greatness, and like him, although many claimed that we achieved it and different people had varied opinions about when that was, nevertheless it was not without grave consequences. Our technological prowess birthed innovations, however, the production and consumption rates were insane and caused even further pollution and poverty in the place where those things were manufactured. Combined with local-scale wars, this led to internal and external displacement towards “safer” societies, but in those societies fear created division, hatred, and even more fanatics.
The powerful manipulated truths and twisted ideologies turned nations against each other and even incited internal conflicts. Meanwhile, the climate was unstable and brought forth overflown oceans, raging forest fires, and devastating storms, amongst other phenomena. Wars broke out over dwindling resources, and global alliances began to crumble under the weight of this pressure.
Scholars mentioned that there was World War I and World War II, but this- this was something else. The weapons used were much more powerful, nuclear and hydrogen weapons, that impacted and changed the whole world, and caused much further “collateral” than people had imagined. Even if you did not die from the impact, or the third-degree burns, even if you lived somewhere far away, you could not escape the effects, because this great War brought upon a Winter. As dust and smoke lifted up above the stratosphere, and stayed there covering the sun for years. Many people, animals, and plants died. I heard stories about how cold was that first period, farmers would gaze upon the barren land, storages were empty. As global communications and trade were paralyzed, getting provisions from other areas was nearly impossible. Dignity did not exist as people would do horrible things to feed, in those unforgiving famines.
It’s both fascinating and horrifying to see in recent history how our intelligence and strategic capacity have led to this, as they were wielded as tools of destruction.
Yet, the wounds went even deeper. Oceans, once teeming with life, now became toxic wastelands, a result of our disregard for nature’s balance. I’ve read about the wonders of the oceans, their vibrant ecosystems, and the creatures that called them home. Now, they stand as heartbreaking monuments to our arrogance.
As I pen down these words in my journal, I’m aware of the irony. The paper itself is a luxury, and the act of writing is a way to immortalize our fall from grace. The knowledge I possess, painstakingly preserved from the fragments of the past, only magnifies the tragedy that we brought upon ourselves.
Our mastery of engineering, chemistry, and physics led to advancements that should have elevated us. Yet, our hubris led to a nuclear catastrophe, spreading radioactive waste across the lands. The air we breathe, the soil we till, all poisoned by our own brilliance turned toxic. My studies revealed the intricacies of this disaster, the way radiation still interacts with matter, seeping into the very core of our existence.
The nuclear waste, a byproduct of our insatiable hunger for power, seeped into the ground and contaminated the soil. The plants that once sustained life now withered under the touch of radiation. Their leaves turned brown and shriveled, and their fruits, if any dared to grow, were twisted and mutated. The animals that fed on these plants suffered as well. Their bodies weakened, and their offspring were born with deformities that ensured a painful and short existence.
The rivers that were once lifelines turned into toxic veins, carrying the radioactive poison far and wide. Fish that swam in these waters developed grotesque tumors, and those who consumed them suffered a similar fate. The delicate balance of predator and prey, once a dance of survival, was disrupted, sending ripples of suffering throughout the ecosystem.
Even the air carried the remnants of our nuclear folly. The winds picked up particles of radioactive dust, carried them across continents, and settled them like a dark shroud over the land. The rain that once nurtured the earth now carried a silent killer, seeping into the ground, further contaminating what little remained of our world.
I write these words not to wallow in despair, but to ensure that the horrors of our past are not forgotten. As you forge your path, remember that the pursuit of knowledge and progress should always be tempered by wisdom and responsibility. The Midas’ touch, as you see, was not a gift but a curse.
In a version of the tale, King Midas begged and begged Dionysus to tell him how to undo the curse. After contemplating for a moment, Dionysus was amused, because as a deathless god, he didn’t have these problems. But out of pity for the mortal king, he advised him to bathe and purify himself in the Pactolus River, and this explained to the people of the time why they could sometimes find gold in that river. Indeed, in the story, the king went there and spent all day and all night. By the next morning’s dawn, his curse had been lifted. He was grateful to be able to eat and drink again, for he could live a bit longer. He no longer chased gold, and he was a wiser king who cared for his people and the kingdom’s future.
Greed was the common curse, a hubris that can no longer be amended in our case. It is now too late, and the effects of what we have done are irreversible. Our intelligence and scientific prowess should have been forces of creation and progress. Instead, they became instruments of devastation, leaving behind irreparable damage together with a wasteland of shattered dreams of unborn generations.
If you are reading this, whoever you are, from whichever time or place, I implore you to learn from our mistakes. The allure of power and wealth, the insidiousness of greed, must not be allowed to shape your destiny. Cherish your world, protect its delicate balance, and remember the lessons of history. May our downfall be a cautionary tale, a reminder that the truest form of greatness lies in using our knowledge wisely and respecting the very balance that keeps us alive.
With somber hope,
Ari
Archeologist Dies In Explosion; Told Secrets Of Time & Life’s Purpose (NDE)
Why do Canadians use both American and Canadian currency? Is this practice confusing for those involved in trade between the two nations?
I have lived in Canada for half a century. Canadians use Canadian money, and when they travel to the USA or buy things online, most prices are quoted in the US dollar.
In the USA, almost no merchant will accept Canadian money; therefore, before visiting the USA, most people convert Canadian cash into US dollars.
I do not know if it is a joke or an actual incident: Once, a Canadian was a victim of street thugs in the USA hold-up. These thugs took away his purse(murse) and the US dollars but threw back the Canadian money, saying: Here is your funny money.
Canada and the USA are two different countries. However, people in the distant world believe they are one country because they are close.
Not at all.
Those days of extreme friendship are long gone; crossing borders used to be as simple as saying ABC. Those were beautiful days of the ’70s.
I crossed the Border 100 s of times, if not 1000s times, without issues.
Recent frauds/scams/illegal immigrants/bums/fake refugees/bogus international students made once upon prestine life as miserable as it could be, even for legit almost as honest as the POPE, became questionable.
Thanks to the present regime in Canada, which has put all the nails in the Coffin of Canada, the relationship between Canada and the USA has deteriorated to the lowest levels as I have seen now in the last fifty years.
Canada is a world joke; I have travelled much of the world. Thanks to Mr. Justin Trudeau.
I hope it helps
Shorpy
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Quacking Casanova’s Groupies
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another quack-tastic adventure in the life of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves Ferdinand the duck, the farm’s resident singing sensation, who waddles his way into trouble—and fame—on the neighboring farm. What follows is a story filled with laughs, clucks, and a moral that will leave you grinning like a duck with a gold record. So grab your sense of humor and let’s waddle into The Case of the Quacking Casanova’s Groupies.
The Duck Next Door
It all began on a sunny afternoon when Ferdinand the duck decided to expand his fan base. Tired of the same old audience (and the occasional eye-roll from Sir Whiskerton), he waddled over to the neighboring farm, where Catnip and his crew held court.
“Ah, a new stage,” Ferdinand said, puffing out his chest. “A new audience. A new opportunity to share my art.”
He strutted into the barnyard, cleared his throat, and unleashed his signature quack: “Quack-quack-quaaaaaack!”
The hens on Catnip’s farm—three uniquely named ladies named Prudence, Patience, and Priss—stopped mid-cluck and turned to stare.
“Oh my,” Prudence said, her eyes wide. “Who is that?”
“That! But also so… quack-tastic!” Patience clucked.
“Quack-tastic! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Priss screeched, fainting dramatically into a pile of hay.
The Rise of the Groupies
Ferdinand’s performance was a hit. The hens were mesmerized by his quacking, his flair, and his dramatic wing gestures. They quickly became his groupies, following him everywhere and cackling in circles around him.
“Oh, Ferdinand!” Prudence squawked. “Your voice is like… like a symphony of feathers!”
“Symphony! But also so… quack-alicious!” Patience added.
“Quack-alicious! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Priss screeched, fainting again for good measure.
Catnip, lounging nearby, watched the scene with amusement. “Well, well,” he purred, twirling a blade of grass between his claws. “This could be… profitable.”
Catnip’s Scheme
Catnip, ever the opportunist, saw a chance to turn Ferdinand’s newfound fame into a business venture. He enlisted the help of his associates, Squeakers the mouse and Ratticus the rat, to hatch a plan.
“Alright, boys,” Catnip said, smirking. “Here’s the deal: we’ll convince the hens to give up some of their eggs in exchange for private one-on-one quacking sessions with Ferdinand.”
“Private quacking sessions?” Squeakers said, twitching his nose. “That’s… genius.”
“Yeah,” Ratticus added, grinning. “We’ll be swimming in eggs in no time.”
The trio approached the hens, who were busy fawning over Ferdinand.
“Ladies,” Catnip said, his voice smooth as cream. “How would you like some… exclusive time with Ferdinand? Just you, him, and his dulcet quacks.”
“Exclusive?!” Prudence squawked. “Oh, yes! Yes!”
“Yes! But also so… quack-clusive!” Patience clucked.
“Quack-clusive! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Priss screeched, fainting yet again.
The Egg-stravaganza
The hens eagerly handed over their eggs in exchange for private quacking sessions. Ferdinand, oblivious to Catnip’s scheme, was thrilled to have such devoted fans.
“Oh, my adoring public,” Ferdinand said, puffing out his chest. “Your eggs are a small price to pay for the privilege of hearing my voice.”
Meanwhile, Catnip, Squeakers, and Ratticus were raking in the eggs, storing them in a hidden stash near the barn.
Sir Whiskerton Steps In
Back on Sir Whiskerton’s farm, the animals began to notice Ferdinand’s absence.
“Where’s Ferdinand?” Doris the hen squawked. “I haven’t heard a quack all day!”
“Quack! But also so… suspicious!” Harriet clucked.
“Suspicious! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting into a pile of hay.
Sir Whiskerton, sensing trouble, decided to investigate. He enlisted the help of Rufus the dog and Porkchop the pig to track down Ferdinand.
“Alright, team,” Sir Whiskerton said, flicking his tail. “We’re going to Catnip’s farm. And if I know Catnip, he’s up to no good.”
The Rescue Mission
The trio arrived at Catnip’s farm to find Ferdinand surrounded by his groupies, quacking dramatically while Catnip, Squeakers, and Ratticus counted their egg stash.
“Ferdinand!” Sir Whiskerton called, his voice sharp. “What in whiskers’ name are you doing?”
“Oh, Sir Whiskerton!” Ferdinand said, puffing out his chest. “I’ve found my true audience. These hens understand me.”
“Understand! But also so… quack-tacular!” Prudence squawked.
“Quack-tacular! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Priss screeched, fainting again.
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Ferdinand, you’ve been duped. Catnip’s using you to scam eggs out of these hens.”
“Scam?” Ferdinand said, his eyes widening. “But… but I’m an artist!”
“An artist who’s being exploited,” Sir Whiskerton said, narrowing his eyes at Catnip. “Care to explain yourself?”
Catnip smirked. “Exploited? That’s a strong word. I prefer to think of it as… entrepreneurship.”
A Happy Ending
Sir Whiskerton, Rufus, and Porkchop put an end to Catnip’s scheme, returning the eggs to the hens and escorting Ferdinand back to his own farm.
“Oh, Sir Whiskerton,” Ferdinand said, his voice trembling. “I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Fame is fleeting, but true friends are forever.”
“Forever! But also so… quack-touching!” Doris squawked.
“Quack-touching! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting one last time.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Fame and adoration can be intoxicating, but it’s important to stay grounded and recognize when you’re being used. And while it’s fun to have fans, it’s equally important to have friends who’ll bring you back to reality.
As for Ferdinand? He returned to his pond, humbled but still ready to quack another day. And Sir Whiskerton? He returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day.
Until next time, my friends.
The End.
Bob Lazar’s Theories On Alien Technology Has NASA Worried
Why is China becoming more and more assertive on the world stage?
China’s growing confidence on the world stage is entirely due to the rapid growth of China’s hard power, such as improved infrastructure, the upgrading of various weapons, continuous breakthroughs in high technology, convenient urban life, prosperous business, etc., but cultural confidence still requires the continuous improvement of soft power.
Many overseas Chinese and pro-unification supporters from Taiwan feel nostalgic for the Republic of China (ROC) because in the 1980s, Taiwan played a significant role in promoting Chinese culture and values through its pop culture and media. People Chinese people who lived in Taiwan, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Canada and the United States in the 50s and 60s were heavily influenced by this culture.
However, times have changed, and Taiwan has mutated into something very different. Today, many young people in Taiwan have been taught to not identify as Chinese anymore and the popular culture is now insane, where nude men dressed as women can dance in front of Sun yat Sen statues.
This is one of the reasons why everyone is switching support to (PRC), including old veterans of the Kuomintang (KMT) military.
It’s similar to how many Russians feel nostalgic about the Soviet Union. Russians born in the 50s and 60s often reminisce about their childhoods and the sense of carefree living. When you’re young, there’s a certain optimism about life—cosmonauts, exploration, and the future—that gets romanticized over time as a “better era.”
But these will be swept into the dustbin of history as China’s soft power continues to grow.
Gloves of Creation
Submitted into Contest #213 in response to: Write about someone with a Midas touch: everything they touch turns to [fill in the blank].… view prompt
Anthony Carello
“I hear they’re calling them The Hand of Creation. Kinda a cheesy name, if ya’ ask me, but hey.” The man shrugged and nearly lost his balance on the wall. Then, he got serious and leaned in toward Alex. In a whispered toned he spoke. “Imagine if someone managed to steal them. Why… They’d become the king of the world.”
Alex turned his neck to face the man. He looked at the man with cold, steely eyes.
“Back away from me.” His words came out infused with as much venom as he could manage. The man did nothing really wrong to deserve such treatment, but Alex was dealing with more than this man could understand.
“Whoa, whoa, no need to bite my head off.” The drunk man said and back away. “Only making conversation.”
Alex snorted at the man and turned back toward the gloves.
***
I’m not going to make this jump!
He leapt off the building, soaring through the air. For a moment he felt weightless, however, it didn’t last long, and he came hurdling back down to earth. Fortunately, he was saved from being splattered on the pavement by a few inches.
THUD!
His feet hit the rooftop and dust shot up into the air. He tried to roll as he landed by the messed up and he felt his ankle twist in a way it was never meant to.
“AHHHHHH!” Alex shouted out loud. He cursed at himself for being so loud.
Shut up! Are you trying to help them find you!?
He looked down at his ankle. It didn’t feel good and it was already starting to swell.
There’s no way I’m going to be able to run on this thing! I need to find some place to lay low for a bit!
The sound of the sirens kept getting closer, soon they would be on him. His plan was good, but The Hand of Creation were heavily guarded. It didn’t take them long to learn that they had been stolen. As he searched the rooftop for a place to hide, his mind kept going over the past.
***
“Mom! That’s not fair! Why does Ashley always get the last cookie?” A young Alex said in a whinny tone.
“Because my love, you always take the first one. Life is all about balance and you need to learn how to share.”
Alex grunted and slumped down into his chair. He looked over to his sister, who was enjoying the last cookie and giving him a righteous look. Then, her face softened a bit, and she broke the cookie in half. Without their mom seeing, she snuck him the piece under the table. He took it from her and ate it quietly. Alex tried to mime the words “Thank you” to his sister, all she did was giggle in return.
I sure am lucky to have such wonder family.
***
“HELP!!! Somebody, HELP!!!” Alex screamed until his throat was horse and sound wouldn’t come out anymore. Then, he screamed some more, but it was pointless because not a note came out of his mouth, only silence.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Day had turned into night, and back into day countless times. Alex tried not to look to his left because he knew that was where his mother and sister were. Their bodies were too much for him to handle seeing in their current state. So, he just waited.
They had been driving into the mountains for a hike. Their mom always like to go far out of town when they went on hikes. Now, he wished they never left the house. When his mom had hit the guardrail, Alex had been asleep. He woke the second the car started going over the side. Just in time to see the terrified looks on the faces of both his mother and sister.
He closed his eyes and shook his head hard, so hard he saw stars. His eyes began to feel heavy again and was tired of resisting.
If I just close my eyes maybe I can see them again…
“Hello? Is anyone down there?” The voice sounded distant and he was tempted to ignore it.
It would be so much easier to just close my eyes…
“Hello!” The voice was becoming louder. Alex realized that it must be a person. Maybe someone that saw the hole in the guardrail and came to investigate?
He mustered up all the strength he had left and hit the side of the van with a rock he had beside him.
BANG!
He heard the footstep stop for a second, then they started to approach rapidly. Alex blacked out after that, the effort of hitting the van being too much for him.
What came next was a series of doctor visit, meeting with psychiatrist, and, eventually, foster care. The rest of his life after that day felt like a blur. In a lot of way, he still felt like he was trapped in that van.
Day had turned into night, and back into day countless times.
***
He threw his back against a corner and fell down. His breaths were coming in and out as fast as they could. There was nowhere for him to go now. Soon, they would be upon him and it would all be for nothing. Unless…
He looked down at the gloves in his hand. They were fairly unassuming, looking like regular gloves. Of course, they made of the best material and some called them beautiful, but Alex didn’t care about any of that. The whole reason he did this was because… He just hoped… No, he needed to bring them back!
They slid over his fingers with no resistance, almost as if they were made for his hands. Instantly, as soon as they were fully on, he felt a surge of knowledge fill his mind. It was as if he instinctually knew how to use them.
Before he had a chance to do anything with them, the first of the squad cars came hovering through the air.
“Freeze!” Alex heard being shout from above him. The entire rooftop was filled with flashing red and blue lights. Each second that passed, another squad car floated above him. They all had their spotlights on him. Alex knew he had to act.
If what I know about these is right…
With only a thought and a force of his will, the space around him changed. Suddenly, all the squad cars were trapped inside cages that were only big enough for them. These cages were heavy, and Alex watched as they dragged the hovering squad cars down. He smiled to himself and stood up, his ankle still bothering him, but he forced himself anyway
Maybe it will work then…
Using the gloves, along with his will, he started to extend upward the building he was standing atop. As he went high into the air, he looked down at the ever increasingly small buildings.
Too late to turn back now…
Once he reached a sufficient height, one which he hoped would buy him some time to do what he needed, he sat cross-legged on the roof.
With all the mental power he had left, he tried to imagine his sister and mother. It wasn’t hard for him because he had never stopped thinking about them ever since that day when he lost them.
It has to work!
Alex felt the gloves attempt what he wanted, then they failed. Undiscouraged, he tried again with more success, but again, they failed. He knew that he was close, but he felt like he was missing an important piece – life. Only life can bring back life. So, he made another attempt.
Every other time he had used the gloves, it was painless. It was almost like they were an extension of him. This time, however, as he used them it burned every inch of his body. For minutes, his entire being was in pure agony.
Almost there!
Sweat was dripping down his forehead and his clothes were drenched with the effort. Finally, it was finished. Alex let out a sharp breath and collapsed onto the ground.
When he came back from unconsciousness and opened his eyes, he was greeted by two people he had seen in years.
“Don’t move honey! You’re hurt!” The sound of his mother’s voice was just as Alex has remembered it, although right now it was laced with worry.
“You stink like sweat.” His sisters voice was small and cute.
Alex’s eyes begun to fill up with tears as he looked at his family. The last thing he saw was their faces looking at him. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he had no regrets for what he had done.
***
Alex slowly opened his eyes and immediately closed them when he saw the bright lights.
BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…
He opened his eyes again and looked to his side. There was a machine that had lines and numbers all over it.
Am I in a hospital?
Without thinking, he tried to get out of the bed, but he couldn’t. Chains connected to his arms and legs and were securely fashioned to the bed. That was when he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. A woman dress in black entered the room a minute later.
“Ah, I see you’re awake.” She said to Alex in a casual demeanour.
“Where am I? I thought I died…” His words trailed off as he looked down at his hand. To his surprise, he still had the gloves on.
“Well, you did. At least for a time. However, we need you now. You see by putting on those gloves and bringing back your family, you have bonded them to you.” She paused and sighed heavily.
“We don’t know how it works exactly, but we do know that if we try to take the gloves off of you it will destroy them.” She continued.
Alex was at a loss for words.
“…”
The mysterious woman must of saw this because she kept talking.
“You mother and sister are safe. A little confused, but safe, and as long as you do what we ask you to do then it will stay that way.”
Alex looked up at her and saw the cold look in her eye.
I’ll do anything to keep them safe!
The thought boomed in his head.
“Don’t you hurt them! I’ll do whatever you guys need me to do. Just don’t hurt them.” Alex said.
She approached him and materialized a small brass key. Using the key, she took the chains off of Alex. He didn’t know why, but as soon as the chains were off, he felt a lot better. The woman then turned around and walked toward the hallway. Pausing just before she left the room, she looked back toward Alex and spoke.
“Follow me.”
Alex complied and felt his body protest. As he made his way toward the woman a sensation filled him, one which he hadn’t felt in a long time – hope. His childhood might have been forcefully taken away from him, but, from this day onward, he was going to create a new future for himself and his family.
California Tamale Pie
Ingredients
- 1 pound lean ground beef, browned
- 3/4 cup yellow cornmeal
- 1 1/2 cups milk
- 1 egg, beaten
- 1 envelope chili seasoning mix
- 1 tablespoon seasoned salt
- 1 (16 ounce) can diced tomatoes
- 1 (16 ounce) can whole kernel corn, drained
- 2 1/4 ounces sliced ripe olives, drained
- 1 cup Cheddar cheese, grated
Instructions
- Stir together cornmeal, milk and egg.
- Add remaining ingredients, except cheese. Pour into slow cooker, cover, cook on HIGH for 3 to 4 hours.
- Sprinkle cheese over top, cover and cook another 5 minutes.
What’s the most “life works in mysterious ways” experience you’ve ever had?
When my dad (aged 19) was called up in 1939 to fight in WW2, he was sent back to Basic Training just a couple of miles from his home town.
One evening during the first few weeks, the draftees were sent out in groups of three or four men who were supposed to go on a 30-mile march, arrive in a forest with just basic rations, camp for the night and return to base the next day (hopefully in time for lunch).
About two miles from base, it began raining hard and dad pointed out to his colleagues that his grandma’s cottage was en route. As can be imagined, grandma was thrilled to see him! She made them all an incredible roast beef dinner and insisted they spent the night, had a lie-in and had eggs from her own chickens for breakfast. The next day they arrived back at base having been well-rested, well-fed and dry and comfortable.
He never mentioned any repercussions from their night off, but he talked about that dinner for many years. I think the army was kinder to the draft army than it might have been to regular squaddies.
What is it like to live in elite housing?
For several years I lived in an elite housing complex in West Jakarta. Not my house, but my in-laws’ house. At first I felt proud, who previously lived in my parents’ house in a remote village, now I could live in an elite housing complex even though it was not my own house.
The good thing is:
1. There are no groups of mothers who like to gossip at the vegetable shop.
2. Quiet. Suitable for me who likes peace and quiet.
3. The air quality is good, because there are still many large trees and no public vehicles passing by.
4. Security is pretty guaranteed (we’ve had some lapses, though).
5. Having neighbors from big business circles, officials, basically prestigious professions. Once we meet, we can share a lot of knowledge and experience which I think is ‘expensive’.
6. You can feel like you are attending a prestigious wedding party every time you are invited by your neighbors.
7. If you want to go for a morning run, there’s no such thing as alay suiting up.
The bad thing is:
1. From the gate to the market or minimarket, you have to use a motorbike.
2. Still often flooded. The last one was in January 2020, it was the worst flood because the water was up to my chest.
3. Everything is expensive. Near the gate there are vegetable sellers, fried rice sellers, basically various culinary delights. Fried rice is 18 thousand (if you go outside the complex it is still 15 thousand), beef soto is 35 thousand, gado-gado is 25 thousand, and if you go to the developer ‘s market , 5 thousand is not enough to buy raw tempeh.
4. Many big houses are haunted houses, because they are not inhabited by anyone. As a result, I once had a paranormal experience. I will tell you about it in the next answer.
No matter how elite the house is, believe me, it is still more comfortable to live in your own house, even if it is only a small house measuring 30 meters.
The final word…
Met a tiger in front of my lover’s house. That’s all and thank you.
