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I'm in a really fucking shitty situation. My cousins left for Egypt two weeks ago on vacation and left me and my mother in charge of their apartment.
They told us to unplug some electrical outlets in their kitchen and we did so, as well as taking their cat home with us so we could care for it while we were gone. This week I checked on the apartment to see if anything was wrong and walked in on a nightmare. The stench was absolutely atrocious. I had to go home and bring 3 bottles of the strongest perfume and cologne I could find.
When I opened the kitchen I learned what the word 'disgusting' truly meant. The food in the fridge and freezer and had rotted and leaked onto the floor and flies were flying everywhere and maggots writhed on the floor.
I cleaned it up to the best I could and silently prayed to every known deity to have mercy on me but my prayers fell on deaf ears. I don't know how but there were maggots EVERYWHERE. The fridge and freezers were filled with them as if it was boiling with their movement. I quickly shut both and ran to the bathroom were I tasted everything I ate that day come back out my mouth.
I live in Brooklyn, New York. Is there anyone, maybe a company that deals with this kind of thing that can help me? What kind of price range would I be paying? How can I dispose of the fridge/freezer?
I am a student and live alone. My thought is that if I buy the vegetables on Sunday, I can chop up the veggies on that day to divide them into 7 days portion (until next Sunday) and store them inside refrigerator (not freezer).
This way, I don't have to waste time preparing them everyday.
Oh, and the vegetables I usually eat are cabbages and broccoli.
Do you have some tips? What other veggies do you recommend?
Thanks before
Like all good stories, this one starts with an introduction.
I'm theserpentsmiles. And this story includes my wife /u/autumnsilver 's family. (Whom has been included for obvious reasons. Or rather, they will be more self evident towards the end). Now, normally, I tend to write things as a narrative or full story, but I have been reading a bit of Dale Carnegie, plus, the FPS community tends to give an over the shoulder conversation. So, I will try and keep to a similar tone.
Our cast of characters:
Before we start this story you need to understand that Christmas is an event on the in-laws side of my family. And it usually happens that we spend a week flown to the East Coast from our happy Chicago to celebrate. Speaking of Christmas, here is some mood music. Still, the whole family gets together and as in most families a lot of gifts are purchased together for like sized people (similar sized women get similar sweaters, guys all get the same socks etc)- trust me this matters later.
Now, to our story.
The morning after our landing to visit for the Holiday was fairly normal. The Wife and I woke up and made our way downstairs in The Mother's house. We made some breakfast and after cleared the dishes. There were a handful of minor chores to address and as we were given free room & board from The Mother, we obliged to take out the trash etc. Close to the middle of the day Brother_Embarassing came up from his cave in the basement to the kitchen. He stood in all his glory before the refrigerator and cracked open a fresh half gallon of chocolate milk. Did he get a glass? --Oh you know he didn't. No BE made sure to start gulping down that chocolate filled bovine lactate as fast as he could. There are dairy farmers who wish they could get sickly calves to drink milk half as fast as he did. And in but a few seconds that half gallon was an empty plastic shell hurled to the trash. But was my brotherly hamplanet done?--Oh you know he wasn't. A gallon of whole milk was produced from the chill chest and graciously joined with a large glass to the kitchen island. That corpulent glass was accompanied with a box of powdered donuts. And do you think that gallon of milk or that box of donuts made it?--Oh you know they didn't. When The Mother came through the kitchen she chastised Brother_Embarassing in a classic 90s sitcom mother tone exclaiming that if he did not start slowing down he was going to have a heart attack. To which The Triangle emerged from the same cave as BE and brought with her the tray of medication that BE had to take for his condishuns. Sadly, he did have a big pile of condishuns but most of them could have been remediated by not being a hamplanet. Once the Triangle was done administering the needed meds she turned herself to the glorious fridge and had her way at the night before's left over pizzas...all of them.
[Ran out of Characters. Posting Part 2]
The Weekly Disclaimer:
-> Nothing is scaled. If a recipe calls for two chicken breasts, it will be making between 2-4 servings depending on how big the breasts are. If you want to make more servings than that, just add more protein. Usually there's enough sauce/side stuff to make more protein doable. If it's something like soup or chili, though, scale up some of the other ingredients potentially.
-> Read everything all the way through before you start. Some things require a day of marinade or you have to do things quickly in a certain order. Have everything ready ahead of time!
-> I gather these from all over the internet and from various cookbooks. I write a few of them, but most of them are things I've found elsewhere. If you want a source and it isn't included, let me know and I can probably find it for you.
-> These are all for your consideration. If you don't like something, don't make it! If you want to change a recipe, do it! All I ask is that if you do change something beyond like "I don't like spicy stuff so I left out the pepper", comment and let me know how it turned out. Did you use Pumpkin instead of Butternut? Let me know so I can put it in the recipe that it's a possible change!
-> Everything is more or less paleo, gluten free, and usually dairy free. Some recipes say coconut aminos, some say soy sauce. If you are super strict on paleo or any other diet, please feel free to alter recipes to conform. However, if you're just doing it because you feel better on it, I wouldn't worry about a couple tablespoons of soy sauce in a big meal if you've already got the bottle of soy sauce.
-> If you are trying to lose weight, eating these recipes with veggies ONLY should help you on that path. They are relatively low carb, medium protein, medium fat. If you eat these with rice or noodles or bread, that's fine...but realize that it will inhibit your weightloss. Some people join this list just for the recipes and don't care that they're paleo/primal, and that's fine.
Grocery List
Canned and Jar Goods
☐ 2 Cups Beef Stock or Broth
Dairy
☐ 2/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Meat
☐ 6 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
☐ 2-3 Lb Chuck Roast
☐ 5 pounds whole leg of lamb
Miscellaneous
☐ Cooking fat (bacon fat, butter, tallow, lard, etc.)
Oils and Dressings
☐ 2 tablespoons olive oil
Produce
☐ 1 teaspoon dried basil leaves
☐ 4 Carrots (optional)
☐ 2 tbsp. chives, minced
☐ 4 cloves garlic
☐ 2 tbsp. dill, minced
☐ 1 teaspoon lemon zest
☐ Lime wedges
☐ 1 Onion cut into chunks
☐ 5 Potatoes cut into chunks
☐ 2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
Sauces and Condiments
☐ 1/4 c balsamic vinegar
☐ 3 tbsp. white balsamic vinegar
☐ 2 tablespoons prepared Dijon-style mustard
☐ 1/4 cup honey
☐ 1/3 cup maple syrup
Seafood
☐ 4 salmon filets, 6 oz. each
Snacks
☐ 1 cup almond or coconut flour
Spices and Seasonings
☐ ½ tsp Garlic Powder
☐ ½ tsp Italian Seasoning
☐ ½ tsp Onion Powder
Pot Roast Crock Pot Recipe
Beef, Crockpot
Prep 45 mins Cook 5 hours Makes 5-6 Source Mynaturalfamily.com
Ingredients
2-3 Lb Chuck Roast
5 Potatoes cut into chunks
1 Onion cut into chunks
4 Carrots (optional)
2 Cups Beef Stock or Broth
2 Cups of Water
½ tsp Garlic Powder
½ tsp Onion Powder
½ tsp Italian Seasoning
¼ tsp Salt and Pepper to taste
Directions
First cut all of the potatoes and onions into large chunks. Using large chunks (about 2 inches square) makes sure they don’t turn to mush in the crock pot.
First add the Roast to the crock pot, then the potatoes and onions and carrots (if used).
Then add the seasonings over top.
Next add the beef stock. The roast should be covered in liquid so add water until it is covered.
Depending on your crock pot and how fast it cooks will depend on the time. Mine is pretty hot so it took about 5 hours on high. You will know it is done when you put a fork in it and it just falls apart.
Once it is done remove the roast, potatoes, onions, and carrots from the crock pot and enjoy.
You can use the juice over your roast or you can make a gravy by putting it on the stove and bringing to a boil while whisking in flour to the desired texture.
Roast Leg of Lamb with Rosemary
Lamb
Prep 15 min Cook 1 hr 20 min Makes 6 to 8 servings Source Allrecipes.com
Ingredients
1/4 cup honey
2 tablespoons prepared Dijon-style mustard
2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
1/4 c balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon lemon zest
3 cloves garlic, minced
5 pounds whole leg of lamb
1 teaspoon coarse sea salt
Directions
In a small bowl, combine the honey, mustard, rosemary, ground black pepper, vinegar, lemon zest and garlic. Mix well and apply to the lamb. Cover and marinate in the refrigerator overnight.
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F (230 degrees C).
Place lamb on a rack in a roasting pan and sprinkle with salt to taste.
Bake at 450 degrees F (230 degrees C) for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C) and roast for 55 to 60 more minutes for medium rare. The internal temperature should be at least 145 degrees F (63 degrees C) when taken with a meat thermometer. Let the roast rest for about 10 minutes before carving.
Maple Salmon With Chives and Dill Recipe
Seafood
Source Paleoleap.com
Ingredients
4 salmon filets, 6 oz. each
2 tbsp. chives, minced
2 tbsp. dill, minced
1/3 cup maple syrup
3 tbsp. white balsamic vinegar
Cooking fat
Lime wedges
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Directions
Melt some cooking fat in a skillet placed over a medium-high heat.
Season the fish with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.
Cook the fish filets in the skillet, skin side down, for 2 to 3 minutes. Cover and cook for an additional 5 to 6 minutes.
Add the maple syrup and balsamic vinegar to the skillet and cook for another 2 to 3 minutes, basting the fish continuously with the sauce for the remaining cooking time.
Sprinkle the minced chives and dill over the filets and serve with lime wedges.
Baked Garlic Parmesan Chicken
Uncategorized
Prep 15 m Cook 30 m Source M.allrecipes.com
Ingredients
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 cup almond or coconut flour
2/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon dried basil leaves
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
6 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Lightly grease a 9x13 inch baking dish.
In a bowl, blend the olive oil and garlic. In a separate bowl, mix the flour, Parmesan cheese, basil, and pepper. Dip each chicken breast in the oil mixture, then in the flour mixture. Arrange the coated chicken breasts in the prepared baking dish, and top with any remaining bread crumb mixture.
Bake 30 minutes in the preheated oven, or until chicken is no longer pink and juices run clear.
I'm not entirely sure this is the correct place to post this question....but any advice would be VERY appreciated!
Two weeks ago my company announced plans to move my position from CA to AZ. After many meetings and discussions, they (generously) offered to cover all of my moving expenses, provided me with a 16% salary raise, AND they are giving me a yearly bonus. They want me out there in the next two weeks (by 8/17).
I'm getting together the quote now for the move and I was wondering if it is wrong to add the cost of a refrigerator into the quote...? My current apartment (in CA) came with a fridge and a lot of the rentals that I'm seeing in AZ do not.
I'd love other people's thoughts on this :) Thank you!!!
I've had this refrigerator for about 2 years now. The freezer is currently working, but there is not only ice buildup, but frost as well. The refrigerator is not cooling at all. Please help!
I'm seeking advice on behalf of an international friend studying in Maryland. He called maintenance to fix a broken refrigerator in his apartment. He was not home when they entered to complete this task. They decided to replace the refrigerator without moving the contents to the new refrigerator, claiming that the contents had rotted and were thrown away. The lost contents include some expensive cosmetics and other items which he values at $1900 in total. Unfortunately, he didn't keep any receipts for the items he purchased and some are gifts. Despite this, the apartment management has agreed to pay him a maximum of $400, but he feels this is woefully insufficient. My friend wants to know if anything else can be done in this case or if he should just accept the $400. He does not have renter's insurance, and I encouraged him to get it to cover his property in the future.
I don't believe there's anything else he can do, but I figure it wouldn't hurt to ask for advice. Thank you in advance to any commenters.
On a very warm summer evening, a salad that's a meal makes a lot of sense. This steak salad, inspired by the flavors of Thailand, is one of my favorites.
Ingredients:
1 pound flank steak
3 Tbsp.lime juice
3 Tbsp. white soy sauce
3 Tbsp. oil (grapeseed or avocado oil works best)
1 Tbsp. fish sauce
2 Tbsp. brown sugar
2 tsp. minced garlic
2 tsp. minced ginger
1 1/4 tsp. red curry paste
5-6 cups leaf lettuce
1/2 cup shallots, thinly sliced
1/2 cup cilantro leaves
1 cup Thai basil leaves
Directions:
In a medium bowl combine 1 tablespoon of the lime juice, soy sauce, oil, brown sugar, garlic, ginger and red curry paste.
Score the flank steak with a sharp knife several times on each side and place in a sealable plastic bag. Pour half the mixture into the bag with the meat, add the remaining 2 tablespoons lime juice along with 1 Tbsp. of fish sauce. Turn the bag several times to completely coat the meat.
Marinate meat in refrigerator at least 2 hours or overnight, turning occasionally. Place the rest of the mixture in a sealable container and refrigerate until ready to serve.
Grill the marinated steak until medium-rare, about 5 minutes per side, and allow it to rest until room temperature. Slice thinly against the grain.
Toss lettuce, sliced shallot, cilantro, basil and beef in a salad bowl with the reserved dressing and serve.
Full printable recipe at http://ift.tt/1OF8Qup
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Hi y'all. I am looking for a few of my wishlist items. I won't post the link to my whole wishlist because I don't need all of it at the moment. I just need a few things at this time. Here are the items I am in need of at this time (I also posted a link for each item in case you need a reference to what item I am talking about and what it looks like):
*Dollhouse Dress - http://ift.tt/1KEqFcm
*Overall Dress - http://ift.tt/1JzLN4K
*Headband - http://ift.tt/1lB6KiY
*Bun Wig - http://ift.tt/1JzLN4M
*Black Veil - http://ift.tt/1KEqFco
*Jukebox - http://ift.tt/1JzLOWl
*Cowboy Boots - http://ift.tt/1KEqDkP
*Heart Shades - http://ift.tt/1JzLN4O
*Sandwich Display - http://ift.tt/1KEqFcu
*Popcorn Machine - http://ift.tt/1JzLN4Q
*Afternoon-Tea Set - http://ift.tt/1KEqDkT
*Wedding Cake - http://ift.tt/1v6yAYL
*Refrigerator -http://ift.tt/1KEqFsJ
I am negotiable with prices but please be reasonable. I thank you in advance, and thank you for your time and concern in this matter.
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Summary:
It’s not until you swallow the pill that you realise how it is just expected that you will serve women, even those who are complete strangers, with no benefit to yourself.
Content:
I’m 6’1 and I lift. So I’m above average in height, and I have a reasonably athletic build. The other day, I was in the supermarket shopping for groceries when I hear a woman behind me say “excuse me…”. I turn around and there’s a sloppily dressed middle aged unattractive post-wall woman standing there looking at me with half a smile on her face. She seemed nice enough so I smiled back and said “whats up?”.
“Can you get this for me? I can’t reach it”.
Turns out that about 5’4, she was too short to reach the frozen vegetables at the top of the refrigerator.
“You’re nice and tall – would you mind?”
Though I consider myself pretty ruthless in terms of not giving away value to women without any personal gain, I don’t have that big of a problem with taking 5 seconds out of my trip to the supermarket to help some short-ass broad get her veggies. So I got the spinach from the top shelf and handed it to her.
She shot me another half-smile and said “That’s great, thank you!”, then she was gone.
On another occasion, I was taking the train home for my usual commute, reading something on my phone and minding my business. I happened to be standing by the door and just like in the supermarket, I hear a woman’s voice “excuse me…” – this time it turned out that some woman needed a hand getting her trolley-bag full of groceries over the gap between the train and the platform. Again, it took me 2 seconds, and the bag wasn’t heavy. No big deal.
These kinds of things happen to me all the time. I get things down from high shelves, I carry baby-strollers up the stairs, I lift suitcases over gaps and I give up my seat on the bus. You might think that I’m going to launch into some angsty rant about how I’m going to stop doing all these things, and fuck social expectations, and fuck women and how they use me – but I’m not going to do that. Truth be told, these things don’t bother me that much. They only take seconds out of my day, and the level of effort involved isn’t that great.
The reason I’m writing this post is because I never really thought too much about these situations when I was still BP. But after taking TRP, I began to wonder.. what would happen if each time a woman wanted me to do something for her, I said no? Surely, as an autonomous, free human, I have the right to refuse any request that is made of me that is not backed by the rule of law – right?
Imagine this scenario. Me, an athletic 6’1, is standing on the train commuting home, minding my own business. A 5’4 chubby middle aged woman with a trolley-bag full of groceries says “excuse me…” and asks me to carry her groceries across the gap between the train and the platform. I turn to her with a polite smile, and gently say “I’m very sorry ma’am, but I don’t want to help you with that” then go back to my reading.
Can you even imagine? I can tell you what would happen – a fucking shitstorm. Every person in the train carriage who heard this exchange (remember – it’s the peak hour commute) would be outraged and immediately jump all over my nuts. The woman’s polite smile would turn to a scowl of disgust. The white knights would flock – shaming me for my rudeness. “It’s not an unreasonable request”, “Don’t be so fucking selfish”, “God forbid you ever need help”.
The key points here are as follows.
As a man, you are expected to provide value to society without any benefit to yourself. If you don’t you will be mercilessly shamed, mocked and derided;
A woman, simply by virtue of having a vagina, can expect to call upon any man she chooses to help or assist her with just about anything, in the knowledge that should a man refuse to help her he will be socially crucified; and finally
You don’t have a choice and you can’t say no. Your choice is essentially do the woman’s bidding, or suffer a torrent of abuse.
This is part of what is called the “social contract” – but strangely, this social contract really only serves to benefit women.
The way a woman uses my height or my strength to make up for her lack of these things is no different to how a woman uses a BB for his money or an AF for his sexual prowess. Want cash? Use a BB. Want a pounding? Use an AF. Can’t reach the veggies? Use a tall dude. Can’t lift your groceries? Use a lifter. She needs, so she uses. “What man can I use to fulfil my current need?”. Once her needs are fulfilled, you’re done. I’ll never see any of these women again, and all I get is a half-assed meaningless “thank you”.
In addition, no thought is put into how the woman got herself into a situation where she needs to ask for help in the first place, and that perhaps it might be worth thinking about how to avoid getting into this situation in future. What kind of a plan is it to get on the train with a bag of groceries that is too heavy for you to lift in the first place?
Before TRP, I used to do these things for women because I just thought it was nice to be nice, and hey, it’s no big deal. These days, it’s still no big deal and I still do these things, but the reason WHY I do them has changed. These days, I do these things because I’d rather help some woman with whatever it was she needed than suffer a complete shitstorm of abuse for refusing.
Lessons learned:
As a man, you are expected to provide value to society without any benefit to yourself. If you don’t you will be mercilessly shamed, mocked and derided;
A woman, simply by virtue of having a vagina, can expect to call upon any man she chooses to help or assist her with just about anything, in the knowledge that should a man refuse to help her he will be socially crucified; and finally
You don’t have a choice and you can’t say no. Your choice is essentially do the woman’s bidding, or suffer a torrent of abuse.
This is the first chapter of my romance story. It's basically one of the two chapters I'm using to present important backstory and then the romance story starts 10 years later. I would love some criticism because I feel as though my writing is not up to par. I used to be much better at writing, but I haven't written in about a year. I'm very discouraged right now, but I'm trying to keep going. I would love suggestions.
August 2004
“Hey, it’s Christopher. I can’t pick up the phone right now. So, uh, if you’ve got something important to say, you know what to do.” Beep.
I pushed my finger against the end call button and kept it tightly held there in frustration as I closed my eyes. I tried to think up reasons not to scream right in Christopher’s face, but the only decent reason I came up with was that I’d look crazy to bystanders. After not answering the three calls that I’d placed in six hours, I felt that I had every right to scream at Christopher. After all, he was the one that had gotten me into this mess. Or at least he helped.
“Are you gonna buy anything?”
I turned around a little startled that someone had been watching me. It was an employee at the gas station I was perusing. I’d been in there for fifteen minutes. During that time I had paced back and forth in one aisle eyeing the merchandise with my left hand pressed against my back and my right hand playing with my lower lip. When I became too flustered with the choices, I would do the same thing by the refrigerator with the beverages. I probably looked crazy. I mean, when people go into a gas station they typically don’t spend a lot of time. They either get exactly what they went in there for or they grab everything that catches their eye. Either way, it takes less than five minutes.
“Uh, yeah,” I coughed. “Do you have any suggestions for –“
“They’re all the same.” She either read my mind or knew all the aisles by heart, therefore knowing that I was in the section with pregnancy tests, lubricants, and condoms. I blushed knowing it was probably the latter.
“Oh,” I mumbled. I reached out my hand and grabbed the first pregnancy test that my fingers grazed upon. I took it up to the counter and purchased it without making eye contact with the employee.
Before I could even make it out the door, the gas station employee said one more thing to me that made my cheeks turn two darker shades of red. “There’s a bathroom in the back.”
“Thanks,” I shuffled toward the back of the gas station to let a plastic stick tell me my future.
I removed the pregnancy test from the packaging set it on the toilet paper dispenser before I pulled my pants down. I sat on the toilet for five minutes praying to the pee fairy to let me urinate so the lady at the cash register wouldn’t have to think I was any more crazy than she already thought. Finally, my prayers were answered. I quickly picked up the pee-stick with my jittery fingers and inserted it under the yellow stream of truth. I sat it back on the toilet dispenser and called Christopher a sixth time, hoping he would finally answer and soothe me while I wait for the pee-stick to tell me if I’m going to be a mommy.
“Hey, it’s Christopher. I can’t –“
“You can’t get your dick out of Justin’s ass long enough to answer a damn phone call is what you can’t do,” I grunted as I hung up.
I sighed and picked up the pregnancy test after what seemed like an eternity. I gripped it tightly in my hand but failed to actually allow myself to look at the one (or two) pink lines. I sighed as I shoved it into my purse and stormed out of the bathroom.
“Bad news?” the snarky employee asked.
“Shutup, potato head.”
I drove around for about half an hour before I finally decided to take the route back home. I pulled into the driveway and waved to Jason who had waved to me first. He was outside with Christopher and a few of their other old high school friends playing drunk basketball. I put my car in park and finally decided to muster up enough balls to look at the results of my pee-stick.
Positive. Pregnant. Great.
I wanted to cry, but I had to tell Christopher before I could do that. I had to know how he would react first. I figured that if he was going to react in a harsh and insensitive way it would be best to cry all at once about my ruined future and my ended relationship than to cry on two different occasions.
I held my breath as I tried to hold back the tears. As I tried not to think about what my family would say. As I tried not to think about what my professors at university would think. Finally, I stepped out of the car. Christopher seemed to notice and jogged over next to me.
“Jessie, I have great news. I was going to wait until move-in day to surprise you, but –“
“Christopher, can I please talk first. I have something very important to tell you,” I said, looking at his sneakers.
“Babe, me first, please,” he paused with a huge smile plastered across his face. I tried to stretch the corners of my mouth enough to resemble a real smile. “I transferred schools so we’ll be together next year. No more Skype. So, I was thinking that we could –“
“Okay, but I don’t think that –“
“What, you’re not excited? I thought you’d be happy. I thought…” he trailed off and his face fell.
“No, Christopher. That’s great news,” I smiled. “I’m gonna go inside. I’m tired.” I sighed as he walked away. I slumped on into my house. I couldn’t tell him. I just couldn’t. He looked so happy about the news and so sad when he thought that I wasn’t happy. He was trying to be sweet and thoughtful, but he was also drunk at 3pm on a Tuesday afternoon. He wasn’t exactly dad material. Not yet at 19 anyway.
My mind raced as I pounded one foot after the other up the stairs to my bedroom. It continued to race even more as I plopped down face first onto my bed. I started thinking about the small town gossip and what Christopher would do. I started to think about how I could ever manage getting a job, taking care of a baby, and moving out of my parent’s house. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to hold back the tears that were stinging my eyes, but it was no use. They started streaming down my hot cheeks, around my lips, and down my chin while I sat there with my mouth open; paralyzed.
Hours passed, but I stayed in a ball in my bed until my mom decided to check up on me.
She sat on my bed. “What’s going on sweetheart?”
I rubbed the palm of my hands over my entire face and heaved a sigh. I told her everything about how I missed my period. About the snarky employee at the gas station. How Christopher didn’t know yet. About all my worries.
“This is something that can be figured out,” she tried smiling.
I smiled back, but had to disagree. “I can’t stay here, Mom. I can’t deal with the small town gossip. I was supposed to finish college and have an amazing life away from here.”
“You can still have an amazing life.”
“Mom, I can’t. I think I’m going to go stay at Grandma’s. Just for a little while.”
She opened her mouth to argue with me, but then closed it almost immediately as if she realized that arguing would do nothing to help the situation. She wrapped her arms around me and I could feel a tear fall from her face and soak through my shirt. I squeezed my hand around wrist for comfort and cried with her.
This is the first chapter of my romance story. It's basically one of the two chapters I'm using to present important backstory and then the romance story starts 10 years later. I would love some criticism because I feel as though my writing is not up to par. I used to be much better at writing, but I haven't written in about a year. I'm very discouraged right now, but I'm trying to keep going. I would love suggestions.
August 2004
“Hey, it’s Christopher. I can’t pick up the phone right now. So, uh, if you’ve got something important to say, you know what to do.” Beep.
I pushed my finger against the end call button and kept it tightly held there in frustration as I closed my eyes. I tried to think up reasons not to scream right in Christopher’s face, but the only decent reason I came up with was that I’d look crazy to bystanders. After not answering the three calls that I’d placed in six hours, I felt that I had every right to scream at Christopher. After all, he was the one that had gotten me into this mess. Or at least he helped.
“Are you gonna buy anything?”
I turned around a little startled that someone had been watching me. It was an employee at the gas station I was perusing. I’d been in there for fifteen minutes. During that time I had paced back and forth in one aisle eyeing the merchandise with my left hand pressed against my back and my right hand playing with my lower lip. When I became too flustered with the choices, I would do the same thing by the refrigerator with the beverages. I probably looked crazy. I mean, when people go into a gas station they typically don’t spend a lot of time. They either get exactly what they went in there for or they grab everything that catches their eye. Either way, it takes less than five minutes.
“Uh, yeah,” I coughed. “Do you have any suggestions for –“
“They’re all the same.” She either read my mind or knew all the aisles by heart, therefore knowing that I was in the section with pregnancy tests, lubricants, and condoms. I blushed knowing it was probably the latter.
“Oh,” I mumbled. I reached out my hand and grabbed the first pregnancy test that my fingers grazed upon. I took it up to the counter and purchased it without making eye contact with the employee.
Before I could even make it out the door, the gas station employee said one more thing to me that made my cheeks turn two darker shades of red. “There’s a bathroom in the back.”
“Thanks,” I shuffled toward the back of the gas station to let a plastic stick tell me my future.
I removed the pregnancy test from the packaging set it on the toilet paper dispenser before I pulled my pants down. I sat on the toilet for five minutes praying to the pee fairy to let me urinate so the lady at the cash register wouldn’t have to think I was any more crazy than she already thought. Finally, my prayers were answered. I quickly picked up the pee-stick with my jittery fingers and inserted it under the yellow stream of truth. I sat it back on the toilet dispenser and called Christopher a sixth time, hoping he would finally answer and soothe me while I wait for the pee-stick to tell me if I’m going to be a mommy.
“Hey, it’s Christopher. I can’t –“
“You can’t get your dick out of Justin’s ass long enough to answer a damn phone call is what you can’t do,” I grunted as I hung up.
I sighed and picked up the pregnancy test after what seemed like an eternity. I gripped it tightly in my hand but failed to actually allow myself to look at the one (or two) pink lines. I sighed as I shoved it into my purse and stormed out of the bathroom.
“Bad news?” the snarky employee asked.
“Shutup, potato head.”
I drove around for about half an hour before I finally decided to take the route back home. I pulled into the driveway and waved to Jason who had waved to me first. He was outside with Christopher and a few of their other old high school friends playing drunk basketball. I put my car in park and finally decided to muster up enough balls to look at the results of my pee-stick.
Positive. Pregnant. Great.
I wanted to cry, but I had to tell Christopher before I could do that. I had to know how he would react first. I figured that if he was going to react in a harsh and insensitive way it would be best to cry all at once about my ruined future and my ended relationship than to cry on two different occasions.
I held my breath as I tried to hold back the tears. As I tried not to think about what my family would say. As I tried not to think about what my professors at university would think. Finally, I stepped out of the car. Christopher seemed to notice and jogged over next to me.
“Jessie, I have great news. I was going to wait until move-in day to surprise you, but –“
“Christopher, can I please talk first. I have something very important to tell you,” I said, looking at his sneakers.
“Babe, me first, please,” he paused with a huge smile plastered across his face. I tried to stretch the corners of my mouth enough to resemble a real smile. “I transferred schools so we’ll be together next year. No more Skype. So, I was thinking that we could –“
“Okay, but I don’t think that –“
“What, you’re not excited? I thought you’d be happy. I thought…” he trailed off and his face fell.
“No, Christopher. That’s great news,” I smiled. “I’m gonna go inside. I’m tired.” I sighed as he walked away. I slumped on into my house. I couldn’t tell him. I just couldn’t. He looked so happy about the news and so sad when he thought that I wasn’t happy. He was trying to be sweet and thoughtful, but he was also drunk at 3pm on a Tuesday afternoon. He wasn’t exactly dad material. Not yet at 19 anyway.
My mind raced as I pounded one foot after the other up the stairs to my bedroom. It continued to race even more as I plopped down face first onto my bed. I started thinking about the small town gossip and what Christopher would do. I started to think about how I could ever manage getting a job, taking care of a baby, and moving out of my parent’s house. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to hold back the tears that were stinging my eyes, but it was no use. They started streaming down my hot cheeks, around my lips, and down my chin while I sat there with my mouth open; paralyzed.
Hours passed, but I stayed in a ball in my bed until my mom decided to check up on me.
She sat on my bed. “What’s going on sweetheart?”
I rubbed the palm of my hands over my entire face and heaved a sigh. I told her everything about how I missed my period. About the snarky employee at the gas station. How Christopher didn’t know yet. About all my worries.
“This is something that can be figured out,” she tried smiling.
I smiled back, but had to disagree. “I can’t stay here, Mom. I can’t deal with the small town gossip. I was supposed to finish college and have an amazing life away from here.”
“You can still have an amazing life.”
“Mom, I can’t. I think I’m going to go stay at Grandma’s. Just for a little while.”
She opened her mouth to argue with me, but then closed it almost immediately as if she realized that arguing would do nothing to help the situation. She wrapped her arms around me and I could feel a tear fall from her face and soak through my shirt. I squeezed my hand around wrist for comfort and cried with her.
Gary Smalley came up with four animals as a delightful way of classifying personality types. These are:
The lion is the leader type, who likes to make decisions and take risks, but may be bossy or inflexible at times.
The otter is the enthusiastic and fun-loving type who is always ready to play, but may sometimes be impatient or flippant.
The golden retriever is the sensitive type who tries to rescue people and avoids confrontation, even when it may be necessary.
The beaver is the perfectionist who must do it all, never breaks a rule, and is likely to insist that you do it all too and never break a rule either.
Myers & Briggs may put you to sleep and you might not be able to remember what the letters mean, but classifying your friends and family members in terms of these four animals will have you rolling on the floor laughing. With that in mind, I've always wanted to expand the list. I hope you enjoy these too, because I know you have them in your family. We all do!
The fox is sly and cunning, always looking for the next tasty meal that can be obtained without paying for it. Foxes are smart and fun to watch, as long as they're after someone else's chickens.
The skunk always has something to say that shouldn't be said and can clear out a room in seconds. No amount of deodorizer can undo what comes out of them. You simply can't trust them not to let it out and at the worst possible time.
The badger isn't so bad to have around, but don't you dare back them into a corner, because, if you do, they will rip you to shreds and retreat into their hole.
The snake is always looking for someone to strike and it's probably going to be you sooner or later. They also have an endless supply of venom and know just where to inject it in order to inflict the most damage.
The coyote is always scheming, but never working and never succeeding. The coyote will expend far more effort trying to get something for nothing than it would have taken to earn it legitimately in the first place. The coyote always needs money and has a "sure thing" for you to invest in.
The roadrunner leaves everyone in the dust and can't be caught. They can also get away with anything. The roadrunner can sell freezers to Eskimos and sand to Bedouins. On the rare occasion that a roadrunner is pulled over, they're sure to get a warning, rather than a citation.
The pig can make a mess anywhere out of anything and has never once cleaned up after the party. They can also inhale an entire refrigerator full of food faster than you can say, "oink!"
The turtle hardly ever comes out of its shell and snaps back in at the first sign of danger or anything else. They interpret everything as a personal attack.
The magpie simply won't shut up. They aren't just a part of every conversation. They ARE every conversation.
You're never quite sure what a squirrel is going to do or say, but you just know they're up to something and if you can't find it, they probably have it tucked away someplace safe.
The pit bull can and will start an argument with anyone at any time. They can and will bite and they don't let go when they do.
Sheep are just stupid. They can get stuck in the corner of a circular room. Sheep respond to Emails from the Prime Minister of Nigeria, who desperately needs their bank account information in order to save that nation's economy in exchange for a 5% cut.
The warthog is a combination of the pig and pit bull with some skunk thrown in for good measure.
Whatever story you might have to tell, the jay can top it. I don't care what it is, the jay has already done something better. If you won a gold medal in swimming, the jay swam across the Atlantic. If you've actually walked on the moon, the jay WAS the moon in a previous life. I don't care who you know, the jay knows three people who are far more important. If you're related to George Washington, the jay is related to Jesus. If you were a princess in a previous life, the jay was Nefertiti. (I actually heard this last one!)
And what's more, the fox, the skunk, the badger, the snake, the coyote, the roadrunner, the pig, the turtle, the magpie, the squirrel, the pit bull, the sheep, the warthog, and the jay are all coming for Thanksgiving!
We're going way too fast, not that we care. The flat, empty landscape is a blur in my periphery; the roar of the engine and the howl of the wind through the open windows an assault on my senses.
I lean back in my seat and watch you drive. Your mouth is curled into a smile I know intimately - one of pure, unadulterated joy. We are free to do what we want, when we want, how we want.
Take our ride, for instance. Some Italian thing - I've never really given two shits about cars. You'd spotted it when we'd gone "shopping" in a big-money college town; told me how wet it made you, how we absolutely must have it. The owner had been less than pleased when I told him this - some pumped up frat boy, big on muscle but with no idea how to use them. He'd squared up to me, puffed his chest out, told me to go fuck myself. He really should have been more prepared for the shot to the kidney you gave him with a tyre iron. You gave him a kiss on the cheek when we'd stopping kicking him, a small thank you for the car.
I stare for a while at your nipples protruding through your tank top, evidence of your arousal. I pull at the fabric with my fingers, expose one perky breast to the open air, before leaning over and taking your nipple in my mouth. I can feel you shift in your seat, know I'd hear you moan if it wasn't drowned out by the engine and the wind.
I remember the last time I made you moan. We'd knocked over a gas station somewhere behind us in this desolate wasteland; taken the forty bucks from the till, stocked up on snacks and gas. The attendant hadn't given a fuck - none of it was worth risking his life over. We'd tied him up anyway in case he'd gotten brave, propped up against one of the refrigerators near the counter. We'd let him watch as I fucked you over it. He'd enjoyed the show - cock stiff as a board when we were done. You'd slipped your hand between your legs and let him taste you off your fingers, a thank you for his service and a small sample of something he would never have again.
We are a 21st century Bonny and Clyde - pillaging the country as we fuck our way across it. We know it will end badly, but we don't care. The only thing that matters is the next stop on the road.
I have been doing some research about infusing alcohol with other flavors. Everything I read says to store the infusion in a cool, dark place. My question is this: by cool, do they mean in a refrigerator? If not in the refrigerator, where do you store your infusions?
I am also wondering if any infusion recipes have worked well for you in the past. I plan on trying two gin infusions: raspberry with tea, and blueberry with lemon. What infusions have you tried and enjoyed?
Our story takes place in the year of 1972, where Rebekah learns the hard way that sometimes ignorance is bliss....
The room was warm, too warm for Rebekah's liking. Days like these, she would often imagine that her small bedroom was a fortress of heat, like a lobby to Hell itself. Despite the lights being turned off and the curtains being drawn to block the sun from coming through, nothing could stop the harsh rays from bombarding their way in. Rebekah lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, as she had done every morning for the past week since she's graduated high school. She was the top student in her class, and had received five acceptances to the top universities in the country. Rebekah turned to her side trying to fight the memory that has brought her the most pain, as she threw the sheet over her head and closed her eyes tightly, trying to escape it all.
Rebekah ran home from the post office that day, laughing and crying so exuberantly as she clutched the open envelope, the run was 5km, but it felt like nothing. Nothing could steal Rebekah's happiness now. When her home came in her view, she turned too sharply and skid on the dirt road. She embarrassingly laughed at herself and stood up and quickly examined her pants, making sure that they had no holes or tears in them, as her mother would lose her temper and Rebekah would never hear the end of it. When everything was all clear, Rebekah ran up the porch steps and bust open the screen door. Her parents who were both in the kitchen turned their heads and looked at her in concern, wanting to make sure nothing happened that was devastating.
“I got in!” Rebekah shouted, with her hands on her knees for support as she tried to catch her breath. She lifted her head up to observe her parents, who were intently reading her acceptance letter. Rebekah felt her way to a chair and plummeted herself in the seat, exhausted and ecstatic at the exact same time. “I got into Harvard, Mutti” Rebekah's mother looked at her and smiled sheepishly before turning right back to the letter
“All those hours of writing that essay, about life changes when we moved to the United States from Germany, they absolutely loved it! This is a dream come true for me!” Rebekah got up and walked towards her parents, she was a little bit unsure of how their reaction was. Her father put his hand on her shoulder, and with pride in his voice told her that “Mutti and I are very proud of your achievement, Rebekah” That was all she needed to hear. She ran up to her room and jumped on her bed, she was finally going to have a life worth living.
That night her mother had prepared Rebekah's favourite meal, and even let her have a small glass of wine. This custom was only ever allowed on the most special occasions. Shortly after dinner, her father had sent all five of Rebekah's younger siblings outside to play, and then joined Rebekah and her mother in the kitchen to lay the heartbreaking news that she was not allowed to go to Harvard. Rebekah had never been hit with grief so hard in her life, between sobs she questioned her parents over and over “Why not?” in the hopes they would run out of reasons and let her go after all.
Rebekah's mother took a deep breath and calmly explained that “There are eight mouths to feed in this house, Rebekah. The cost to live and go to school at Harvard is nearly what your father brings in annually. I'm sorry, we just cannot afford to send you to college. I must be honest, I also cannot afford to lose the helping hands around here with your brothers and sisters.” Rebekah slammed her fist on the table. “That isn't fair! I worked so hard to get this letter! My whole life is dependent on going to school!” Rebekah buried her face in her hands as she sobbed in front of her parents at the table, she could feel the tears roll from her face and down her hands.
Rebekah's mother ran her fingers through her hair in frustration and then pointed to the crucifix hanging above the kitchen door. “Do not think your plan is better than His, Rebekah.” Without even thinking, Rebekah laughed out loud in her mother's face and slowly but surely managed to mutter through angry breaths “Fuck His plan.”
Before she could even blink, she was pinned to the wall by her father who was shouting in her face “What did you say?” she could see his hand raise higher, she could feel the sweat roll off her forehead in anticipation of the pain that was about to take over her body. Just as he was about to strike, Rebekah squinted her eyes open, just to take a look and was surprised and relieved at her surroundings.
She was safe in her bedroom, relieved that the sweat on her pillow and collar of her shirt was caused by the blazing heat of a June morning, and not the adrenaline of just getting a beating from her father. Rebekah heard a light knock on her bedroom door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening, something her mother always did.
“Time to get ready for service, Rebekah.” She said as she sat on her bed. “I know this acceptance letter thing has been hard on you, so I was thinking maybe you could ask Father O'Hare to publish your essay in the Parish Newsletter. It's a very good essay, darling.” Rebekah remained silent until her mother got the hint to leave her alone. Rebekah's mother shook her head and left her bedroom, Rebekah waited until she could hear her mother go down the steps before sitting up. She contemplated making herself throw up so she could avoid leaving the comfort of her bed, but didn't think it was worth it.
“I know it's good, Mutti. That's why I was accepted into the nation's top fucking college.” She angrily muttered to herself as she got up and angrily shuffled through her drawers for something to wear that wouldn't result in old Catholic ladies giving her dirty looks. Rebekah hated Sundays, more importantly now more than ever, she hated God.
It's funny to think, perhaps if Rebekah would have purged herself, it could be her telling this story.
Rebekah's family parish was indeed a small one, as practising Roman Catholics were nearly extinct in these parts. Rebekah alongside her family walked into the old, decrepit church as one would walk inside a prison. She looked over at her family, her stomach turning at the idea of committing her life to serving them, soon enough her father would come home talking about a man he'd like her to marry. Then she would end up just like her mother, somebody she swore to herself she'd never become.
Rebekah sat at the furthest side of the pew with her family, and observed the other people entering the old church doors. Father O'Hare was standing at the doors, greeting families and offering a dab of Holy Water so people could cleanse themselves before they step in. Rebekah hated that man, he was the ultimate charmer of women and she only imagined what horrors happened in the basement of the church during Sunday school. She sat staring menacingly at the priest, gripping her rosary just enough to release all the anger, but not enough to break the rosary and cause a scene, which would later result in the belt from her father once they returned home. Rebekah's angered concentration was soon broken by the warm, friendly voice of the congregation's most beloved members: the Duchesne's.
The Duchesne's were the most wealthy family in town, and have been for generations. What made them so likeable was how humble they were despite their financial situation, and were always the most charitable to those who truly needed it. Their charity only grew more with the death of their only daughter, Edith.
There was not much to say about Edith, she was a spinster at best, if not the definition of the term itself. She lived with her parents in their mansion on the hill, and was never seen outside Sunday service. Edith was a plain woman, who even in her early forties, never married. Early last year, she died of a “disease of the lungs” Rebekah's mother would say. Rebekah didn't know much about her, only remembered that she had a very close relationship to her father, and that Mr. Duchesne was devastated when Edith passed away, he didn't leave their house for days. The Duchesne's didn't even hold a funeral, just a mass in her honour the following Sunday. Some people in town believed that the grief of Edith passing away is what brought on Mrs. Duchesne's skin cancer. Now it was only Zelda and Vernon who came to mass every week, and despite Zelda's condition and them both being in their advancing seventies, they never missed a service.
The Duchesne's walked up to the pew in front of Rebekah's family very slowly, before either of the two could sit down, Mr. Duchesne got in a terrible coughing fit and began to fumble around his coat pocket looking for a handkerchief. Rebekah couldn't help but notice the fresh red blood in the handkerchief once Mr. Duchesne pulled it away, quick to realize Rebekah's glare, shined her a friendly smile and looked to the rest of her family “Good morning, Neufeld's!”. In almost perfect unison, all eight of the Neufeld's smiled and wished a good morning back to him. Mr. Duchesne simply nodded, then turned to join his wife. Moments later, Father O'Hare walked to the front of the Church and began his long and dry sermon, and Rebekah struggled to keep awake throughout the duration.
Once the sermon was finally over, Rebekah's parents were quick to join the Duchesne's as what happens most every Sunday. Rebekah sat under the willow tree in the Church yard hoping to catch any kind of shade against the blistering heat and also hoping her mother could be quick, so she could fake an illness and lay in her bed all day. This time, oddly enough, Rebekah could see her mother from a distance, waving her on to join the conversation. Rebekah got up, wiped the sweat from her forehead and walked reluctantly over, the last thing she wanted to talk about was her acceptance into Harvard.
“We have been speaking with your mother and father about your acceptance into Harvard University. How absolutely wonderful, you must be very proud of yourself” Mr. Duchesne said while taking Rebekah's hands into his. Her heart sunk, she was indeed very proud of herself and also very ashamed she couldn't go. Mrs. Duchesne touched Rebekah's shoulder. “You know, you are so lucky to live in a society where a woman can be educated. That is why we sent our Edith to medical school and she excelled. It was her dream to help burn victims rebuild themselves after such severe scarring. If you were to walk in our home now, you would still find her library on how to perform skin graphs” Mrs. Duchesne said and let out a small, weak laugh.
Rebekah lifted her head slightly to see that Mr. Duchesne was definitely fighting back tears, he took a breath before saying “That is why Zelda and I have been thinking about providing the same kind of opportunity for brilliant girls to have the same kind of quality education our Edith had.” Mr Duchesne paused to have another coughing fit which resulted in another splat of fresh blood, he shook his head and continued. “Truth is, Rebekah. Zelda and I's health is declining, and well, with Edith as our only heir, we really have no means to our estate, except for the hefty donation to the church of course.” Rebekah's heart began to race, as she knew what was coming up next.
Mrs. Duchesne gave a quick glance to her husband and cleared her throat before taking over. “We know times are hard for you and your family, Rebekah. All this being said, we are ready to cut you a deal I think you will be more than happy with.” Rebekah's eyes widened. She felt her body nearly burst with excitement she could hardly manage to mutter “What deal would that be?”
“Keeping up with our home has become nearly arduous for Vernon and I because of our condition. Rebekah, if you stay in our home for the summer months and help tend our estate, Vernon and I will pay your schooling for the next four years in full.” Rebekah's jaw dropped and she couldn't help but have a few of the most happy tears stream down her face. She quickly turned to look at her parents, who both nodded in approval. Things were finally changing for the better. The request seemed so small, she was used to taking care of others because of all the siblings she had to care for over the years alongside her mother and also, spending a couple months in the Duchesne mansion would feel like paradise compared to the tiny farm house her family lived in.
“I'm so glad you're okay with this, I would give you a hug, but any kind of touch to my skin is terribly painful. The summer months tend to be the most difficult.” Mrs. Duchesne touched Rebekah's shoulder so gently. “You better start packing, my dear. We'll see you tomorrow.” With that, the Duchesne's said their goodbyes to the Neufelds and headed home.
Rebekah turned to her parents and gave them both the most genuine, thankful hug she's ever given. “Thank you so much, Mutti. I know this must be difficult for you.” Rebekah's mother linked arms with her daughter, and they began walking towards their car. “You know, your father and I decided to bring our family here because there was no opportunity for us back where we were from in Germany, not unless you wanted to be a Mennonite. It would be completely against our initial cause to deny you this opportunity. You are truly brilliant, Rebekah. Harvard is very lucky to have you.” she kissed Rebekah's forehead and with that, Rebekah and her family got inside the car and made the trek home.
As Rebekah had expected, life with the Duchesne's was as simple as she'd expected, in fact even easier. Rebekah had prepared herself to need to assist Mr. and Mrs. Duchesne with their medications, or with getting in and out of bed every morning, what was expected of her was quite the contrary. It was the simplest chores such as dishes and laundry that needed to be done. The elderly couple were also really easy to get along with, even though some of Mrs. Duchesne's requests were a little out of the ordinary, Rebekah just assumed it came with the generation they were from. The entire west wing of the house where the bedroom belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Duchesne was strictly prohibited for Rebekah to enter. Even Edith's bedroom and medical room had the same strict enforcement. Still in disbelief that the Duchesne's were doing such a huge favour for her, Rebekah dare not question why.
One morning, while Rebekah was cleaning the kitchen she couldn't help but notice her own breath while grouting the floor tiles. It was one of Mr. Duchesne's bad days, and Rebekah turned her head to see that he was asleep in the next room and that Mrs. Duchesne was nodding on and off in the chair next to him herself. “It's fucking freezing” she thought to herself as she rubbed her arms for warmth. “There is no way that this kind of cold could be good for either of them.” With this as her conclusion, Rebekah tip-toed down to the main hallway, careful not to wake the couple, and turned off the air conditioning.
“Better” Rebekah thought to herself, and very quickly and quietly, returned back to her work in the kitchen. It seemed like only minutes later, the house turned to a more comfortable temperature, which was soon abolished as the rays of the July sun beamed in through the windows and provided warmth throughout the entire mansion. Rebekah was very much used to doing chores in the heat, as her family never had the luxury of an air conditioner. What bothered Rebekah, was the absolutely terrible stench of rotting meat that seemed to consume the air.
Rebekah's stomach churned as she continued to work and breathe in the scent. “Where the hell is this coming from?” she thought to herself as she grabbed a glass of water to try and soothe her stomach. Rebekah looked in the refrigerator for anything that has possibly gone bad, when everything was fine there, she turned her attention to the garbage bin under the kitchen sink, but still could not find anything that would cause the putrid stench. All of a sudden the stench came over Rebekah a hundred times stronger than before, like a tidal wave consuming every inch in it's path. Rebekah was mortified when she turned to see the cause of such a horrid smell: Mrs. Duchesne
“Rebekah! Perhaps one of the most important rules of the house, do not change the temperature unless instructed to do so!” Mrs. Duchesne cried while waving her finger at Rebekah, while trying her hardest to not yell. Rebekah was more than just a little unsure as to why Mrs. Duchesne was so upset, Rebekah herself was struggling not to vomit at the stench that was so pervasive in the room, she took a step back before pleading “I'm really sorry, Mrs. Duchesne. It was freezing, I could see my own breath inside the house! I just didn't want you or Mr. Duchesne to catch a cold-” Rebekah was at a loss for words, she had never seen anything more disturbing in her life.
“What's the matter?” Mrs. Duchesne asked, a little more than impatient as she placed her hands on her hips. To Rebekah's horror, she couldn't help but notice that underneath Mrs. Duchesne's weathered left eye, the skin was beginning to sag down and peel away from her face, what shocked her the most was that there was no blood or bone, just another layer of fresh skin. One could even argue it looked younger. Rebekah couldn't bear the sight any longer and quickly turned her head away as she grasped the kitchen counter behind her. “I'm terribly sorry if this sounds strange, Mrs. Duchesne but, your face is peeling!” Rebekah quickly glanced back and felt terrible after she saw the look of embarrassment on Mrs. Duchesne's face. Mrs. Duchesne quickly covered her eye and frantically cried out “Turn on the air conditioning, never touch it again!” before walking as quickly as her frail body would let her towards the west wing and into their bedroom.
For the rest of the day, Rebekah couldn't help but play the scene in the kitchen with Mrs. Duchesne over and over again in her head. That fresh layer of skin underneath. Not one drop of blood, and how could she not even realize her face was peeling? These questions played over and over in Rebekah's mind, and even though hours had passed and it was now time for dinner, Rebekah still felt unsettled joining them for the meal that she prepared.
Between very small bites, as Rebekah's appetite was non existent, she studied the dining hall, particularly the massive portrait of Edith that was mounted on the wall directly behind Mrs. Duchesne. Out of all the years that Rebekah had gone to the same congregation as the Duchesne family, she never took a moment to really study Edith. She definitely had her mother's eyes and facial structure, but the most plain features she had ever seen. Rebekah's concentration was broken by Mrs. Duchesne, who cleared her throat and placed her napkin on her lap. “Rebekah, I would just like to apologize about this morning. I should have mentioned it to you earlier, I wear special skin graphs on my face as my natural skin was mostly removed because it was cancerous. The graph is very expensive, and temperature is vital. If anything becomes too hot, I start melting like a candle!” Mrs. Duchesne let out a laugh that was also joined in by Mr. Duchesne. He looked over at Rebekah and smiled warmly “We hope Zelda didn't scare you, or make you think she was angry with you.” Rebekah studied the old couple. If there was anything on earth Rebekah could determine, it was a lie. Something was slightly off, all she could think about was that fresh layer. She took a sip out of her glass of water before saying “Oh of course not, I'm sorry I made a scene.” Mrs. Duchesne smiled at Rebekah, and the rest of dinner was quiet.
For the following nights, Rebekah lay in her bed thinking of scenarios that would result in Mrs. Duchesne's 'skin graph' peeling again. Perhaps one night she could tip toe down and toy with the air conditioner again in the middle of the night, and the next morning Mrs. Duchesne's face would be entirely different. Rebekah quickly thought against it, because nothing was worth that smell again. She also imagined if something awful were to happen that set the mansion on fire, would she be able to glimpse at the second layer of Mrs. Duchesne in it's entirety. Rebekah sat up in bed and shook her head, feeling stupid that she was being so paranoid. “That's one hell of a skin graph” she thought to herself as she turned around into the plethora of goose feather pillows. Rebekah all of a sudden remembered an old friend from her early childhood in Germany. Her name was Eva and Rebekah remembered that her house caught on fire, and Eva's family had to get her a skin graph to fix her face, but it still looked horribly burned. Rebekah turned to her other side. The Duchesne's had always been wealthy, it's not completely crazy to think that they could afford to buy Mrs. Duchesne a whole new face, is it? Rebekah's train of thought came to a sudden halt when Mr. Duchesne's voice was heard throughout the mansion.
“Edith!” He cried. Rebekah sat up, confused about how she should react about the entire situation. “Poor guy, must have night terrors” is what she tried to convince herself is what was happening, but somehow she felt in her bones it was a much different situation. “Oh, Edith!” Mr. Duchesne's voice echoed even louder throughout the house only this time it was accompanied with heavy, rapid knocking against the walls and a much younger woman's giggle accompanying it. Rebekah was the eldest of six children, and was pretty certain she'd heard the conception to the youngest few of her siblings. With a large churn in her stomach and a look of absolute disgust on her face mumbled in complete repulsion to herself “He's fucking having sex.” Rebekah threw herself back in bed and buried her head under the pillows. “Something is fucked up, and I'm gonna find out exactly what it is” she thought to herself before dozing off to a night of very light sleep.
Rebekah woke up feeling nauseous. Maybe things would be better off if she just never took the Duchesne's offer, and stayed home in the comfort of her small farm house where the warmth of the bed she'd laid most of her life in was, where the smell of bread baking and the sound of her mother humming songs from the old country all lived. As Rebekah prepared breakfast for the Duchesne's, she thought of her family and felt a pang of home sickness as sharp as a knife. At least back home she could sleep soundly without the knowledge that the town's most respectable man was cheating on his wife for some young woman who was pretending to be his dead daughter. Rebekah tried to shake the thought out of her head. Tonight she would be sure to find out exactly what was going on, and that was a promise.
The day seemed to go on like an eternity, but it was finally around the time the Duchesne's retired for the night. Rebekah watched Mrs. Duchesne struggle a little bit to get up and walk down the hall towards the west wing, and felt terrible for her. That her husband can do something so despicable to her, especially in her condition. Rebekah waited until she could see that all the lights in the west wing were turned off before quickly scampering to the main room of the house and carefully looking out the window for any sign of a woman trying to get in. Rebekah had every intention of catching Mr. Duchesne in the act and relaying it back to his wife. It seemed like hours past and still, Rebekah saw nothing but could feel her eyes getting heavy. The idea of retiring back to her bedroom became more and more convincing until she heard a voice coming from the west wing. A woman, much younger than seventy-six.
Rebekah ever so carefully turned her body and made her way very slowly to the entrance of the west wing. Rebekah quickly froze behind the wall when the voice returned. “Just a minute, and let me go put more of that solution on. Seems I've let it go for too long, doesn't stick to the flesh as well anymore” Rebekah was unsure, it seems that would be Mrs. Duchesne speaking about her skin graph, but the voice was so different. She quickly peered her face over to see exactly what was going on and was surprised to see that it was Mrs. Duchesne exiting the room, only she was walking quite effortlessly with a swing in her hips that everybody who knew Mrs. Duchesne knew that she hadn't been able to walk without a slight limp in decades. Rebekah could not help but be intrigued and slightly afraid of what she could discover, but decided the best course of action would be to get inside the west wing.
Rebekah waited for Mrs. Duchesne to return to bed before attempting to explore this forbidden side of the house. She turned to glance at the room directly to her left, and despite the hallway being completely dark, she managed to read the shiny plaque on the door:
Medical Study of Edith Mary Duchesne, M.D, MBChB, D.O
Rebekah couldn't help but feel that she was fighting with herself to go inside, she knew the answer to everything would be in this room and that is what terrified her. Rebekah turned the knob lightly and pushed the door slowly so that nobody would hear her sneak in. Everything inside was pitch black, Rebekah felt her way for any means of light and was relieved to find a candle and a pack of matches. Once she was able to see, Rebekah was amazed with what she saw. The walls were covered by shelves stacked with hundreds of books on the same aspect of medicine, what Rebekah found most intriguing were the volumes titled “Journal of Dr. Edith M. Duchesne” with the corresponding year beside it. With her finger she traced along down the time line but felt an overwhelming feeling of unease when she saw one dated for “1972”.
Rebekah grabbed the book off the shelf and chose a random entry, in hoped that perhaps maybe it was Mrs. Duchesne who started writing:
March 3rd, 1972
I'm finding that this time of the year is the most ideal and easiest time in preserving the skin. The climate is at a perfect temperature, not too cold (so application and removal is easy) and not too warm (where the flesh begins to decompose). It has been 389 days since I have been wearing the flesh off mother's corpse. This experiment has been a huge success thus far, from the day I began the experiment until now, nobody has ever commented or seemed to notice a change in appearance. Saying this, looking back I am glad I decided to remove all the flesh tissues from mother's body as I believe it is vital in people not noticing the physical difference. That, and that of course the Lord blessed me with the same body type as mother. I thank God everyday that he has allowed me to have the medical knowledge necessary to perform this type of procedure and to continue my relationship with father. We are both endlessly happy.
Rebekah closed the book and quickly tossed it on the desk. Her head was reeling, the room was spinning, she dropped to the floor and began to retch uncontrollably. Edith wasn't dead, Mrs. Duchesne was, Edith was only quite literally wearing her skin. Everything made complete sense now: the cold temperatures, why the west wing was completely forbidden, that awful rotting meat smell. What made Rebekah the most sick was that Mr. Duchesne was in on it completely. Edith did this so she could have an incestuous relationship with her father. Before Rebekah had any more time to even think about it, the door busted open and Rebekah could feel a presence standing over her
“Well, it appears somebody has been looking where they shouldn't be” Edith said, arms crossed standing over Rebekah who was still on the ground. “What the fuck did you do to her?!” Rebekah cried, struggling to stand up. Edith started to take a step backwards. “I don't know what you're talking about.” Rebekah began to laugh as she wiped the vomit away from her mouth.
“Don't give me that shit, Edith. You killed your own mother to be with your father. You wear her skin. Your own mother's dead skin you sick fucking bitch!” Rebekah tried to claw at her, but Edith caught her arm. “So you're not as daft as I thought you were, Rebekah. Don't talk to me like I'm immoral, the Lord says to love thy father, I seem to be the only one who understands that. I didn't want to be condemned from the Church my family built! That's why I'm wearing that wench's skin!” Edith's grip strengthened as she spewed her last words into Rebekah's face. “Yeah, love your father, sure. God never said to fuck him!” with that as a last remark, Rebekah elbowed Edith as hard as she could in the stomach and lunged underneath her and ran out of the office and into the hallway.
Edith fell to the ground but quickly crawled to grab Rebekah's leg, resulting in Rebekah falling face first onto the hardwood floor. She spit the blood out of her mouth and turned to see Edith practically on top of her with a knife in hand. “You should have watched yourself, Rebekah. You won't live to see fucking college!” Rebekah followed her first instinct to use all her strength in kicking Edith away, when Edith lunged backwards, Rebekah ran over to quickly steal the knife away.
“I will not let you turn me into a fucking costume like you did your mother, you crazy bitch! Any closer and you're dead!” Edith crawled backwards, trying to escape death. Rebekah breathed in heavily “I'm leaving, and everybody is going to know about you and how fucking crazy you are. To think anybody ever felt sorry for you!” With those as her final words to the Duchesne's, Rebekah turned to the front door, with tears streaming down her face and a heart full of want to get home to her mother and father, she opened the door to find Mr. Duchesne standing there gun in hand, and with a single shot, Rebekah's eyes widened and she fell to the ground. The pool of deep red getting larger and larger as Rebekah felt her life run farther and farther away....
Three Weeks Later
The knock on the door took the Duchesne's by surprise, as they normally never receive any visitors. Edith had a really good feeling as to whom exactly it was. She looked over at her father who nodded to her. They had rehearsed everything from the moment they dragged Rebekah's lifeless body to Edith's study. They could do this, they've done it before.
Edith, wearing her disguise of course, opened the door. “Sheriff McDonald. What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in.” The Sheriff stepped inside and took a look around the grand mansion before walking over and shaking Mr. Duchesne's hand. “I imagine you've heard about the disappearance of the Neufeld girl, yes?” The Sheriff asked taking a seat and pulling out a notepad. Edith shook her head in sorrow. “Yes, she worked with us for about a month. Told us one morning she was leaving to visit her family, and never came back. We've been worried sick. I've been telephoning her mother at least twice a week to see if she's turned up!” Edith reached out to hold Mr. Duchesne's hand. As the Sheriff took notes, Mr. Duchesne shot a quick wink at Edith before turning back to Sheriff McDonald. “Please say there's been some good news, Sheriff. We care so much for her.” The Sheriff gave a grave look. “I hate to break it to you folks, but it's this point in the investigation where we are close to assuming death.” Edith buried her face in her hands. Sheriff McDonald put his hand on Edith's shoulder. “Any detail about what happened that day would help us greatly.” Edith looked up and simply answered. “She made us eggs benedict for breakfast that morning and asked us over breakfast if she could visit her family, we said of course, and well-” Edith broke into tears. “That's the last time we saw her!” Mr. Duchesne put his arm around her. “That's really all we know, Sheriff.” he said sincerely. Sheriff McDonald nodded.
Mrs. Duchesne walked Sheriff McDonald to the front door. “Please do come see us again, Sheriff. We love visitors. And do bring your wife next time.” Sheriff McDonald smiled at her. “I will definitely let her know, she always told me how beautiful your house was decorated when she came on over to collect community donations, now I know what she's talking about.” Edith smiled warmly at the Sheriff. “How kind of you.” Sheriff McDonald scratched his head and laughed. “Now don't laugh too much at me now, but it is my wife's birthday in about a month and I really want to get her something nice for the house. That chair I was sitting in, that was really sharp. Where is it from?” Edith's eyes widened. “Oh that? That is our newest addition, just received it recently. We got it imported from Europe.” Edith turned to see that the Sheriff was taking notes on the chair. “Europe, huh? Well it's really nice and smooth to the touch. I imagine that's real leather right?”
Edith turned to look at the chair sitting in their main room, and laughed. “Of course it is, Sheriff. Straight from Germany”
My mother just got a part time job and before she got the job me, her, and my sister were getting around $500 in Food Stamps.
Now that she works we are only giving us about $300 (she only works 2-3 days a week), my sister is getting $173 and I'm only getting $27, my mom is getting $98, before I was getting around $180, I pay my mother $100 for rent with my side job (I make like $200 a month online) and it is really hard to get food with this and the little money I get, we buy separate food, I have my own refrigerator and prepare my own food, so I'm really independent and it seems there assuming me and my mother share her income, but I'm 18 already, and she doesn't give me any money from her income.
My mother and been trying to help me and talked to her case manager why I was only getting so little or if I could get off her case, but she's not really giving any solid answers and seems not to care.
Can I go to the welfare office own my own food stamps and get off her case? I looked online and I qualify for $180 (even with my side income), what I was getting before. And I have been 18 since this March, this is literally so fucking confusing and makes no sense to me s i'm 18 and don't see why I can get my own case, so hoping anyone can give me advice on what I can do.
Also my side income was reported for almost a year and I was still getting $180, so it's not related to that.
I really hate having to rely on the government, but I have applied to a lot of jobs the past year with false leads so this is my only resource, but I'm starting college in a few months and qualified for a grant and loan plus after attending a few months I can get a job on the campus, so I got that going for me.
Thanks
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Marinated chicken thighs in salt, pepper, paprika and olive oil. Thought would grill them tomorrow, but looks like I wouldn't be able to. Can I keep them in the refrigerator until Saturday?
I travel for work semi-regularly. It can be damned hard to KCKO on the road, but taking this bad boy with me has REALLY helped stay the course: Keto Travel Kit
Included: * Beef Jerky * Moon Cheese (this stuff is THE SHIT. I am OBSESSED) * Quest Bars * Crystal Light * Justin's Almond Butter packets * Beef Nibs * (in bag) Almonds separated into individual serving size snack bags - Blue Diamond Bold in Habanero BBQ and Sriracha are amazing!
If I know my room is going to have a refrigerator, I will usually add string cheese, Philadelphia Cream Cheese packs and an ice pack to the insulated bag.
One travel tip that works for me is to kind of pile it on in the morning - Quest bar plus peanut butter or cheese, maybe a handful of nuts / beef jerky too - eating almost too much in the morning really helps to keep me full for a good part of the day and keeps me from throwing in the towel and eating whatever carb-loaded lunch option is provided.
The other thing I try to do is maintain a normal eating schedule - being on the road means all sorts of crazy hours, but I have found that when I eat on the same schedule I do at home, I am less likely to cheat.
Hope this helps, I would love to learn more about what other travelers do when on the road!
Their tagline is Inspired Perfumes for Unusual People and I...did not pick many unusual notes. Sorry. I tend to gravitate towards...more mainstream scents and more florals than anything. ALSO, this will be long because I don’t know how to edit myself.
Overall shop review: Deconstructing Eden is an Etsy storefront with a large variety of different scents. All their scents are perfumer’s alcohol based, so they’re sprays...which I like for convenience reasons as I have a whole bottle of perfume oil that spilled in my purse one day. On the about page it says they are 50% oils and 50% perfumer's alcohol. These are some seriously professional smelling perfumes. If you have a friend you’re not sure is interested in indie, or you’re not sure how they’ll do with a perfume oil, I’d say give them a look because despite the tagline, there are some excellently blended beautiful, scents available.
I got a sample pack of 7 scents and she included a freebie. So I got 8 scents altogether. Originally I was only going to get 3 scents but this is the scent list and I got lost. http://ift.tt/1Kzy5R0 . She ships from Kansas (so international customers might run into trouble since everything is alcohol based but I don’t know). And I swear, I ordered at like...2AM est last Thursday and she shipped by 10AM the same day. Like it was in the post office. I physically received my package on Monday. This was what was inside
Everything altogether now. Dollar for scale. I'm fresh out of bananas The slightly different looking card on the top right is a refrigerator magnet! (and someone showing off their excellent penmanship. It’s not me, though. What I make is barely recognized as letters. I also don’t thank myself enough.)
Close up of a vial. YEP they are all individually vacuum sealed.
Scent reviews below. Be warned though. I am terrible at this. I have a vague understanding of what things smell like and I learned a lot from this order and a couple of my previous indie orders, but I’m still...conservative with my scent picks. Feeling a bit more bold now though.
Adore from the Love: Light series
Notes: Violets, citrus, jasmine, ylang ylang, lily of the valley, magnolia, tuberose, lotus, iris, bourbon vanilla, white musk and rose.
In the bottle: This smells very strongly of one or several department store perfumes, but I’m actually terrible at scents so...I have no idea which ones but holy crap this is familiar smelling. I’ve used something like this before. I don’t think I would have picked it, maybe it was something I got as a GWP with a cosmetics purchase or something. It has a wet...almost sharpness to it, but it’s not sharp. A lot of florals, I smell the jasmine and the lily of the valley and the ylang ylang. The rest of them all blend together to me. I can’t detect any rose, or vanilla.
First few minutes: I now know that ylang ylang amplifies initially on my skin like crazy. At this stage it's ylang ylang with a touch of musk and not much else. This one is very feminine and very mature. It’s ripe? For some reason I feel like this is more of an autumn scent that is also mature. Possibly too mature for me.
15min laterish? Dry-down: NOW I get some vanilla. The ylang ylang has stepped back, but it’s still there being...ylangy. The musk is also still noticeable, but it’s more musky vanilla with some florals in the background. I think I’m getting a touch of violet and it’s adding a slightly powdery but not soapy note.
Sillage: Medium? Someone in polite conversation with you will get a light whiff of you, but you won’t stink up a room.
Wear time: 4-5 hours
Verdict: Not ideal for me, but now I know that I should be careful with ylang ylang. I won’t get a full size of this
Dragonfly '15 from the LE summer collection
Notes: Bluebells, lavender, heather, linden blossoms, violet leaf absolute, sunflowers, green leaves, still water, and sheer melon.
In the bottle: Green, this is super green. It smells like freshly cut...something. It’s not quite grass, maybe tropical grass if it was super green. Did I mention this was green? It’s got a fairly sharp scent to it. It’s all green leaves with a hint of melon.
First few minutes: Yup it’s green. It DOES smell of summer, somehow, also knowing the name and giving it another sniff it does kind of smell like what a dragonfly wing would smell like. Green, shiny/almost metallic, and alive. Also I get more melon now.
Dry-down: This one stays roughly the same on me the entire time. The violet comes through a bit more with a slight powdery feel but I never get any of the other florals, which is interesting since lavender tends to amplify on me.
Sillage: Mmm medium-low. People could still smell this on you, but it’s more subtle and clings closer than the other samples I got.
Wear time: 3-4 hours
Verdict: It’s well formulated and unlike anything I’ve ever had...but I think melon scents give me a headache.
Juliet from the Literature collection: (My freebie. Clearly she saw I liked florals so she added more florals so I could flower while I flower)
Notes: Sweet peas for good bye, mimosa for modesty and sensitivity, Red Peonies for devotion and Solomon's Seal for secrecy, anchoring all of it with delicate white musks and elder wood.
In the bottle: Sweet florals dominate, it has an almost candy-quality to it. It seems like there’s a fruit in it but there isn’t.
First few minutes: Oh I am a pretty young princess. I might be young enough and dumb enough to die for this dude my family hates that I just met even though he totally had was into my one of my cousins like 10 minutes before he decided I was the bee’s knees (can you tell which is my least fav Shakespeare play?). Needless to say this is very youthful and sweet.
Dry-down: It stays light, it stays girly, it stays supremely feminine.
Sillage: Light-medium
Wear time: 3-4 hours
Verdict: I like this. I’m glad I tried it now because I probably would have eventually. I don’t think it’s perfect for me, and I probably won’t buy a full size, but it’s so nice it’s probably right for someone else.
Lakshmi from the Deities collection
Notes: Lakshmi: Deep, velvety red roses, two different types of amber, a touch of Sambac jasmine, and creamy Mysore sandalwood.
In the bottle: I smell all of the notes...but probably couldn’t distinguish between the two types of amber. The rose isn’t powdery and the sandalwood isn’t overpowering. The jasmine is on top and it’s very wet. I thought this might be too strong from the bottle.
First few minutes: Oh, roses on a bed of jasmine in a room made of sandalwood (can you make a room out of sandalwood?). The amber’s there too but not warmed yet. I see why this is in the goddess collection. Wearing this I feel like a relaxed goddess or at least like the temple. There’s no incense or anything but it feels like wearing this you wouldn’t be out of place at a temple. Also I feel like a person going to an Aveda salon and/or a high class yoga studio. Whichever.
Dry-down: So I learned that my skin clings to sandalwood like it clings to patchouli (but the sandalwood is MUCH more pleasant to my nose). It seems like if I don’t wash it off the sandalwood will cling for days. The roses fade first and the sandalwood and jasmine remain the longest.
Sillage: High. I amplify sandalwood and you probably COULD smell me across the room when I’m wearing it.
Wear time: Forever and a half. IDK I washed it off after 8 hours and I feel like I can still smell a hint of sandalwood every now and then
Verdict: I like it. A lot. On certain days I’m sure I love it. Probably not everyday though or I might actually turn into a sandalwood tree.
Lena: A House scent
Notes: dew covered pink and purple lilacs, willow leaves floating on a gentle breeze and soft blue sky on a bed of barely there white musk.
In the bottle: Fields, it smells like a field of flowers. Those bright ones you see in pictures. It smells purple. In the bottle it’s wet. I am beginning to notice a trend. Wet things smell wet but when they dry they smell less wet. Who would have thunk it?
First few minutes: The musk IS barely there, but the lilacs really shine...because they have no other choice...because they are the main part of this scent. It’s a super soothing and relaxing scent to me. It smells like the field you’d have a picnic in on a warm spring day...if you lived in a romance novel.
Dry-down: More of the same. This stays fairly similar through out the entire wear. It never gets powdery, it loses the wet quality but it’s always very recognizable as lilacs.
Verdict: Love. Floral and feminine but not overly sweet. It’s a soothing scent to me.
Phedre' from the Kushiel’s Legacy series:
Notes: White musk, cereus blooms, jasmine essential oil, rose, pomegranate, red apples
In the bottle: Oh boy am I going to love this. I can barely even tell what I smell but it’s sweet with a slightly musky and slightly sexy underside and I like it. I can tell there’s apples and pomegranate...I think, or at least some type of fruit.
First few minutes: Please don’t change, please don’t change...oh you changed and I like it more. The florals come out and the fruity scent stays in the background. This is super feminine. Super...not girly but young woman-y? It’s also sexy somehow.
Dry-down: Similar to the first few minutes but the musk grows a bit stronger
Sillage: Medium
Wear time: 4-5 hours
Verdict: Love this, somehow had this order for like 2 days and am almost out of the sample. PANIC.
Silver Moon a House scent:
Notes: Moonflower, white amber, musk, jasmine, white ginger.
In the bottle: I am cackling madly because I love this. I loooove ginger and I smell ginger. I feel like ginger is an underused note in scents. Everybody should use more ginger. It’s interesting because it’s a sweet ginger made sweeter by, what I’m going to assume is moonflower although I have never smelled a moonflower as I am not from the moon.
First few minutes: You know what it reminds me of, even though it doesn’t have any tea notes? Kumiho from BPAL. That’s probably JUST the ginger and I think I like this more because it combines ginger, one of my favorite things, with a light, non-powdery floral. One of my OTHER favorite things. It’s like magic. I don’t get any musk or amber but what do I know.
Dry-down: Oh there’s some musk, but I still don’t know well the amber is. Oh well, it doesn’t need it. I still smell like ginger. I’m a spicy moon princess. Sailor Moon as a sushi side dish to cleanse your palette.
Sillage: Medium
Wear time: 4-5 hours
Verdict: Love. Oddly, despite the name I want to wear this as a daytime scent. Until I die.
Violette another house scent:
Notes: Deep purple violets, lavender, lilacs and hyacinths.
In the bottle: VIOLETS and other purple accessories. But mostly violets.
First few minutes: Still violets. They’re nice violets but they are completely overpowering the other purple smells. Violet always has a slightly powdery quality to me. It’s not a bad powdery but it very noticeable here. In terms of purple smelling smells, I prefer Lena because it avoids that slight powderyness...probably because it doesn’t have violets. This is still nice, though.
Dry-down: Still violets. Possibly more powdery. Still not bad but not amazing for me.
*Sillage: Medium
Wear time: 3-4 hours
Verdict: Like, but won’t buy full size.