Podcasts about Delicate

A hundred episodes. One imperfect couple. A ton of growth.In our 100th episode, we celebrate by recapping the first 50 episodes of Better Than Perfect — what still holds up, what we've refined, and the lessons that changed our relationship. We kick off with a spicy debate on bars and clubs, respect vs control, and then speed-run through episodes 1 to 50: marriage, boundaries, conflict, polarity, resentment, smut vs porn, “girls night out,” and more.Chapters00:00 Welcome to our 100th episode01:05 Bars, clubs, respect, and the “if I wouldn't want you to, I won't either” rule08:12 Ep 1 Is marriage still worth it10:58 Ep 2 The 5 rules that changed our relationship location sharing no exes no friends of the opposite sex no girls guys night out phone and email transparency15:45 Ep 3 Why 50 50 doesn't work for intimacy and polarity18:20 Ep 4 How to keep the honeymoon phase by clearing resentment21:02 Ep 5 He cheated the hard lessons and full ownership24:40 Ep 6 Fighting fair conflict that bonds instead of breaks27:10 Ep 7 Why women date “ugly” men confidence vs looks29:50 Ep 8 Why traditional beats transactional32:15 Ep 9 First date tips playful flirty purposeful34:05 Ep 10 How a man leads servant leadership not barking orders37:20 Ep 11 No girls night out or guys night out and why it is about respect41:05 Ep 12 Why jerks and losers sometimes win and what actually attracts women44:10 Ep 13 Men's biggest struggles today pride purpose and adversity47:40 Ep 14 When you mess up pausing an episode to repair in real time49:35 Ep 15 Two become one team vs two roommates52:00 Ep 16 Happy wife over happy mom cutting the cord kindly54:20 Ep 17 Can one person be enough forever and the reassurance dance56:30 Ep 18 Sex intimacy and frequency without scorekeeping58:35 Ep 19 Travel stress test before commitment01:00:55 Ep 20 Social media iPhones and modern temptation01:03:40 Ep 21 Kids change everything do not use them to fix problems01:06:15 Ep 22 How to romance a woman yes it starts long before the bedroom01:08:30 Ep 23 Should a woman propose we say no and why01:10:10 Ep 24 How women can be romantic feminine seduction done right01:12:30 Ep 25 Who settles more and why it looks different for men and women01:15:25 Ep 26 Should you take someone back rare exceptions and clear standards01:18:40 Ep 27 Men do not want boss babes they want kind feminine partners01:21:05 Ep 28 Passport bros why running away dodges the real work01:24:00 Ep 30 I love you but I don't like you dismantling contempt01:26:20 Ep 31 The Surrendered Wife key takeaways01:28:50 Ep 32 If she isn't a little scared you could cheat do you have any juice01:31:15 Ep 33 The biggest problem making men weak loss of pride and purpose01:34:00 Ep 35 Why men and women hate each other and how to stop01:36:45 Ep 36 Confident dominance vs controlling behavior01:39:30 Ep 37 Why women initiate most divorces and what men can do01:42:20 Ep 38 Why buy the cow if you give the milk away investment matters01:44:50 Ep 39 What men get from marriage beyond romance01:47:20 Ep 40 Delicate and strong vulnerability makes you invulnerable01:49:30 Ep 41 Are the five love languages enough and what's missing01:51:40 Ep 42 Our big fight and how we repaired01:54:10 Ep 43 Her role as support rocket fuel and why it matters01:56:40 Ep 44 Are men dangerous understanding fear and safety01:59:20 Ep 45 Polarity flips when she is masculine and he is feminine can it change02:01:40 Ep 46 Self-sabotage spotting insecurity before it sinks you02:03:55 Ep 47 Do traditional roles limit your life or create freedom02:06:30 Ep 48 Should we open our relationship we say no and why02:09:00 Ep 49 Is reading smut the same as porn and what it does to desire02:11:40 Ep 50 How women try to control men and how to let go02:14:20 Wrap next week we cover episodes 51 to 100

When it comes to grand gestures, painting your entire city in the one colour is quite something. So much for painting the town red. How about pink? Jaipur beckons as one of India's most enchanting destinations, where the Old City is harmoniously bathed in the same pink hue. The elegant capital of Rajasthan was painted in pink stucco in 1876 to welcome Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales, who was the son of Queen Victoria and later became King Edward VII. Jaipur's Maharaja chose the colour because pink symbolises hospitality in Rajput culture, and the gesture impressed the Prince so much that he nicknamed the city the "Pink City." The name – and the stucco - has stuck ever since. A year later, a law mandated that all future buildings in the Old City must be painted pink. As I swept into Jaipur on a private holiday Wendy Wu Tours, there's no denying how that welcoming palette sweetly seduces even the most jaded of travellers. Jaipur effortlessly casts you under its spell, as you delve into its rich history and treasury of enticements. There is an unmistakeable magic about the place. Nearly 300 years ago, an enlightened maharajah with a penchant for jewels and a keen eye for architecture built this planned city, wedged between the arid hills of northwest India. Built in the form of a rectangle, Jaipur was divided into nine blocks, seven for public use and two reserved for the state's most prestigious palaces and buildings. The entire city was girdled by a formidable protective wall. Called Jaipur after the city's founder, Jai Singh II, the planned city soon gave rise to astonishing royal palaces and vast workshops of artisans recruited to establish a new commercial hub. These days, gem cutters, jewellery designers and garment-makers are still doing a flourishing trade in Jaipur. And the royals still occupy a wing of the majestic City Palace, while gleaming mid-rise towers and a new subway system anchor Jaipur's forward march. But for all the contemporary progress, it's the architectural grandeur, proud sense of place and thriving craftwork traditions that make this destination so infectious. Street markets are splashed in colour and handicrafts, and Hindu temples can be found nearly every 100 metres. Though the streets heave with beeping and belching traffic, aimless tourists and dung-dropping cows, there is a charm and charisma to the carnival of commotion. Close to City Palace, my wonderful Wendy Wu Tours guide Vipin treated us to some sizzling old-school retail therapy. We walked under the peeling pink porticos of the roadside bazaars which were emblazoned with everything from puppets to pyjama pants; passing by carts of fried chickpea cakes, and marble-lined shrines with statues of Hindu gods. Garment-hunting was high on the agenda, for gifts to take home. Vipin led us to his favourite shop, where an explosion of colourful fabrics heaped in piles and stacked to the ceiling soon greeted us, as attentive staff served us Masala chai. Whether you're after local, authentic t-shirts, shirts, trousers, scarfs, saris, rugs, cushion covers, towels or table-cloths…this is textile and garment-shopping heaven. As my sister snapped up some sensational saris, I haggled down the price on a sublime tablecloth with block-printed red elephants. The other boom retail business is jewellery, because Jaipur is a global centre for cutting and polishing precious and semiprecious gems. Head to Jewels Emporium's stately white building and take a tour of the workshops, where cutters shape facets, and men at workbenches adorn gold settings with jewels, and rinse the gold dust from their hands in wash basins. That water is later sold to extraction companies. The quality of the workmanship is second to none, true Rajasthan's abiding legacy. Jaipur's Pink City bragging rights is best epitomised by the Hawa Mahal, or Palace of Winds. We stopped by to pose in front of this five-story palace façade, constructed from pink sandstone. Built in 1799, its iconic facade features 953 small windows which allowed royal women of the court to observe street processions without being seen while also creating a natural cooling effect. The palace's architecture is a blend of Rajput and Mughal styles, ornately designed with protruding bays of lattice stonework and cupolas mimicking Krishna's crown. Could there be a more glorious façade in the world? City Palace is a stirring complex to leisurely explore, peppered with mouth-watering architecture, tranquil courtyards and lush gardens. The prize draw is the Palace of the Breeze, a triumph in building design, whereby the air circulates so efficiently that it keeps the occupants cool even in the extreme summer months, when the mercury can nudge 50 degrees. The on-site museum is studded with royal treasures, costumes and curiosities. Out in the courtyard, I admired some massive silver vessels that carried the Maharaja's drinking water from the Ganges River to London in 1902 for Edward VII's coronation. You can see the royal reception rooms that are still in use, where Jaipur's royal family entertain guests in an ornate dining room and parlour, where chairs have silver lions for armrests. The walls are painted with gold dust and extracts of rubies and emeralds. Yipin pointed out where the royal family reside. There's a lot of tabloid tattle about Jaipur's current Maharaja, Pacho Singh. He's only 27, quite the polo-playing playboy and is currently living in the palace with his French girlfriend. But it's fully expected he cannot marry her, in deference to royal tradition and Rajasthan's adherence to arranged marriages and astrological alignment. Beyond the Old City, no visit to Jaipur is complete without savouring the sky-piercing magnificence of the four-hundred-year-old Amber Fort. (Pronounced Ah-meer.) Sprawling across the upper reaches of a hillside like a scene out Return of the Jedi, this fortress was previously the seat of power for the Rajput kings from 1599, before relocating to Jaipur's Old City just over a century later. En-route to the fort, Vipin led us to the most dreamy viewpoint, on the shores of Lake Maotha, where we gazed up in awe at this hilltop colossus. Brightly dressed elephants lumbered by, readying to carry visitors up the slope to the fortress. I had previously taken an elephant ride up to Amber Fort, but I've put weight on since then and am more mindful of animal welfare. We opted for a jeep ride through the skinny lanes snaking their way up to Sun Gate. From here, we marvelled over the China Wall-esque fortifications, the Amber Wall, riding across the ridgelines as far as the eye can see. ( It's 12km in length.) But this Rajput stronghold hooks in the tourist hordes principally for its gobsmacking array of palatial buildings and extravagant ornamental gardens. In shades of honey and rose stone, white marble and gilt decor, it's a frothy fusion of ornate Hindu and Islamic design. Amber Fort's exquisite craftsmanship is best exemplified by the Mirror Palace, or Sheesh Mahal. Candlelight dinners would have been next-level. A single lit candle spangles the beautifully cut Belgian glass panels and mirror mosaics that festoon the walls of the banquet room, transforming the space into a night-sky kaleidoscope across the walls and ceiling. Apparently, this room was made by the Maharaja so that the Maharani (queen) could see the stars at night, as she was not allowed to sleep in the open. Other highlights include the many-pillared Diwan-i-Am, the Hall of Public Audience; the Jal Mandir, or Hall of Victory, which features carved marble panels, a mirrored ceiling, and expansive views over the ramparts of the fort. The Sukh Niwas, the Hall of Pleasure, is another drop-dead-gorgeous marble room that was cleverly cooled with water. Here, the Maharaja reportedly relaxed with his ladies. Amber Fort is a resplendent blockbuster, reverberating with the glory days of Rajput rule in Rajasthan. Jaipur residents are rightly proud of their architectural showstoppers. One of the signature attributes to the city is the fact that some historic palaces, no longer required for the affairs of state, have been reimagined as beacons of hospitality. But I stayed at a brand-new luxury build that is a grand triumph of contemporary construction, fully inspired by Jaipur's landmarks and Rajasthani finesse. Introducing Anantara Jewel Bagh Jaipur. Whether it's for a big bling-bling Bollywood wedding or for immersive luxury experiences away from the heaving throng of Jaipur's tourist spots, this hotel delivers a tour de force in lavish Rajasthani living, with a contemporary take. It is splendour defined. As our Wendy Wu Tours driver pulled into the entrance, a troupe of Rajasthani dancers and costumed drummers serenaded our arrival in spectacular, effervescent style. Unfurling over 5.5 lush acres, the grand hotel's money shot is its sensational main façade, drawing rich inspiration from Amber Fort and Rajasthan's royal palaces. Features include majestic arches, intricately designed jharokhas (bay windows), and graceful chhajjas (overhanging eaves) and detailed carvings. It was thoughtfully painted in the same colours as Amber Fort's walls during golden hour. Rajputana history and heritage permeates the hotel. You'll notice it in the materials—yellowstone from Jaisalmer, marble from Banswara and Makrana, and locally sourced timbered. There's the treasury of sublime artworks, notably including portraits of Rajput warriors and royalty. Peek inside the Rang Mahal ballroom, where the walls are completely covered with celebratory nods to the state's heritage. It was handpainted over two-and-a-half years by third-generation artists. Delicate thikri glasswork, hand-carved wood accents, and intricate gold leaf detailing abound across the hotel. Amer Bagh garden venue unfurls like a verdant blanket at the base of the hotel – and is a stirring outdoor venue. Jai Bagh (victory garden is the main outdoor space for guest and I was absolutely enthralled delving into the daily bazaar that is staged here in the afternoon, complete with puppeteers, block printers, bangle makers and astrologers. Anantara's core DNA is to create hotels steeped in local elements and the Jaipur addition excels at delivering exactly that. You can even go chowk-hopping, vegetable shopping and cooking with local women. The hotel boasts 150 rooms and suites, layered across five categories, with most overlooking the inner courtyard or Jai Bagh. We stayed in the Anantara One-Bedroom Terrace Suite, which is kitted out with its own outdoor Jacuzzi and expansive terrace. I was transfixed here watching muscular monsoon thunderstorms tear up the sky and soak the land! Guestrooms do not skimp on celebrating the sense of place, with sumptuous comforts and artful design elements, from the zardozi on the pillows, thikri work on the headboards, wooden jharokas by the window nooks, and Mughal miniature art on the walls. If that's not enough to tempt you, Anantara's first outpost in India will enchant you with its gastronomic verve. Led by Executive Chef Sunil Jajoria, Sheesh Mahal is a pinch-yourself jewel box of a venue, to experience the true essence of Rajasthan with exquisitely fitted out with glittering mirror mosaics, dressed in 350,000 pieces of glass, inspired by the legendary Mirror Palace. Coud there be a more wondrous place to savour the true essence of Rajasthan's culinary brilliance? The menu marries traditional Rajasthani delicacies with global influences, paired with signature cocktails like the Jewel of Jaipur. Jajoria, a Rajasthan native, has been researching local cuisine for the last seven years. Perfected over 20 trials, his menu dives deep into how maharajas entertained. His tasting menu kicks off with hummus that tastes like Bikaneri bhujia, moving on to ker sangri kebabs, besan kebabs mimicking paneer (as there was no paneer in the history of Rajasthan, says the chef), and Shekhawati maas tacos. The menu is handwritten by the chef himself, on vintage paper he has been collecting since his he was a boy. Pair this menu with the ‘Echoes of Distillation' spirit tasting of heritage liquor from the royal family of Mahansar. It's mixology at its finest, with no shortage of artful theatre thrown in. Another cracking experience is Amrit Mahal, the vibrant all-day dining venue, which presents a diverse array of international and Indian specialties. There were too many highlights to recount, but the lamb baos, edamame truffle dimsums, lotus root on fire, Cantonese buttermilk prawns, soba noodles, and Japanese caramel cheesecake were all pleasurably devoured. The buffet breakfast here is like a royal banquet! The spa experience is a signature feature pillar of any Anantara property, and resident experts were brought in from Thailand to train the Jaipur team. The treatment repertoire remains consistent with their global spa menus—a mix of Ayurveda, Thai massages, and western therapies. I deployed my sister to the spa for some personal panel-beating and she is still buzzing about the deep tissue massage she savoured. She rates it as the best massage of her life, “life-affirming, age-reducing and liberating.” Another starring attribute of the hotel is its genuine sense of connection with the community. As a part of their grassroots outreach, the hotel works with local women to make the rotis on their menu on a chulha or traditional clay stove. You can take an early morning trip to the flower market or a guided farming experience. Even better, take a private visit to Hathi Gaon, which is a community of rescue elephants residing in their natural habitat. Or partake in a local culinary class. I was particularly impressed that the hotel takes care of their staff's accommodation needs, building nearby apartments to ensure they are well-housed. Hospitality is as sparkling as the palace-like hotel itself - faultless, ultra-attentive, charismatic and truly unforgettable. Treat yourself to a remarkable Jaipur escape at Anantara Jewel Bagh. You'll be royally treated from the moment you arrive. You will not want to leave. www.anantara.com Delve into India and the Golden Triangle with the award-winning tour specialists across Asia and beyond. I chose a tailor-made Classic India private holiday, that enables you optimise your itinerary and accommodation preferences, as much as you wish. The itinerary can be as active or as laid back as you are, with full flexibility over included meals and excursions. You'll be in the best of hands with Wendy Wu Tours. www.wendywutours.co.nz/india From New Zealand, it's just a one-stop connection to a multitude of destinations in India, including New Delhi, with Singapore Airlines, on their various daily services from Auckland and Christchurch to Singapore. Enjoy well-timed connections for an easy transit in Singapore. Across all classes of travel, the award-winning carrier has not only fostered a world-beating reputation for its exceptional customer service and in-flight product, but also its innovation. Become a KrisFlyer member and enjoy complimentary in-flight WiFi. For best fares and seats to suit head to https://www.singaporeair.com Mike Yardley is our resident traveller on Jack Tame Saturday Mornings.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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Delicate art of grilled cheese making. There are no dual floats. Crayons. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

1 Better is the poor who walks in his integrity than he who is perverse in his lips and is a fool. 2 It isn't good to have zeal without knowledge, nor being hasty with one's feet and missing the way. 3 The foolishness of man subverts his way; his heart rages against Yahweh. 4 Wealth adds many friends, but the poor is separated from his friend. 5 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who pours out lies shall not go free. 6 Many will entreat the favor of a ruler, and everyone is a friend to a man who gives gifts. 7 All the relatives of the poor shun him; how much more do his friends avoid him! He pursues them with pleas, but they are gone. 8 He who gets wisdom loves his own soul. He who keeps understanding shall find good. 9 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who utters lies shall perish. 10 Delicate living is not appropriate for a fool, much less for a servant to have rule over princes. 11 The discretion of a man makes him slow to anger. It is his glory to overlook an offense. 12 The king's wrath is like the roaring of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass. 13 A foolish son is the calamity of his father. A wife's quarrels are a continual dripping. 14 House and riches are an inheritance from fathers, but a prudent wife is from Yahweh. 15 Slothfulness casts into a deep sleep. The idle soul shall suffer hunger. 16 He who keeps the commandment keeps his soul, but he who is contemptuous in his ways shall die. 17 He who has pity on the poor lends to Yahweh; he will reward him. 18 Discipline your son, for there is hope; don't be a willing party to his death. 19 A hot-tempered man must pay the penalty, for if you rescue him, you must do it again. 20 Listen to counsel and receive instruction, that you may be wise in your latter end. 21 There are many plans in a man's heart, but Yahweh's counsel will prevail. 22 That which makes a man to be desired is his kindness. A poor man is better than a liar. 23 The fear of Yahweh leads to life, then contentment; he rests and will not be touched by trouble. 24 The sluggard buries his hand in the dish; he will not so much as bring it to his mouth again. 25 Flog a scoffer, and the simple will learn prudence; rebuke one who has understanding, and he will gain knowledge. 26 He who robs his father and drives away his mother is a son who causes shame and brings reproach. 27 If you stop listening to instruction, my son, you will stray from the words of knowledge. 28 A corrupt witness mocks justice, and the mouth of the wicked gulps down iniquity. 29 Penalties are prepared for scoffers, and beatings for the backs of fools. Listen Donate Subscribe: Proverbs Daily Podcast Psalms Daily Podcast

Cabin Cousins: Part 5 The Gales of November. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connections. "Hmm" Melissa said, her face still buried in the pillow. She shifted and turned her head, and I moved to her side with one arm and a leg still draped over so we could look into each other's eyes. "Wow. That was..." She sighed. "...Wonderful." I smiled and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did." She squinted at me. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming, and you're just a figment of my imagination?" She said playfully, though I could tell there was something serious behind the question. "I'm real, and I'm right here, in your bed, and I love you." She searched my eyes for a moment, rolled onto her side, and pulled me in close, kissing me deeply. When we stopped kissing to catch our breath, she whispered. "It's our bed, and I love you too." We held each other in silence for a long while. I knew that she had something else to say, but I didn't push her. Eventually, she broke the silence. "Do you want pancakes? I want pancakes." Not exactly the soul-baring statement I was expecting, but now that she had said it, by damn I wanted pancakes. "I'll help." I had made pancakes exactly once before, and it wasn't a complete disaster, so I felt that my inclusion in the process wouldn't be too much of a hindrance. She got a distant look in her eye, then rolled onto her back, and covered her face with her hands with a groan. "I don't have any pancake mix." She peeked at me through her fingers and we both started laughing. I'm not sure why but we both found it hilarious but we roared with laughter. I playfully pushed her towards the side of the bed. "Well, get dressed. I'll take you out for breakfast." Still laughing, she got up and opened a dresser drawer. Stepping into a pair of light blue panties, she asked. "Are you getting dressed too, or are you going to go like that?" "I'm thinking about it." I quipped, eyes following her every movement. I loved watching her move. She had a litheness and grace to her. Cat-like? No, that's not quite right. Amazonian? Maybe, but that implies a stature and bulk that Melissa didn't have. She was fit, not body builder muscular, and she wasn't particularly tall, just shy of my own five foot ten. She was perfect, and my eyes couldn't get enough of her. Let's leave it at that. "You'll give the old ladies at Perkins quite a shock." She shot back, still laughing. With an exaggerated sigh, I rolled off the bed. "For the sake of the old ladies, fine, I'll get dressed." Chapter Sixteen. The plate clinked as Melissa set down her fork. "Ugh. I ate too much, but that really hit the spot." She had attacked her "tremendous twelve" meal with murderous intent. All that remained was a scrap of crust from a piece of toast, and some maple syrup residue on an otherwise clean plate. She had even swiped a strip of bacon off of my plate, an act that left fork marks on my brother's hands on several occasions. I looked at my plate, with its pile of hash browns and a third of a stack of pancakes remaining, and set down my fork. "I guess I didn't work up as much of an appetite as you, cause I'm stuffed too." Melissa looked at me with her special smile and mischievous eyes. "Well, you'll have to try harder next time." "I need to work out more." "I can help with that." She replied, and we both giggled, knowing the truth of it. "Let's start with a walk." We left the Perkins restaurant, and with Melissa navigating, we drove north out of Duluth on Hwy 61. We pulled off and parked where a little river crossed under the road and spilled through a steep set of rocky rapids to Lake Superior below. We hiked down a little trail, and she led me out onto one of the big rocks. The scenery was spectacular, and the water rushing past the rocks had a hypnotic quality. It hadn't snowed last night, but the wind was blowing hard off the lake, and the constant mist from the rapids gave the crisp early November air some real bite. We sat for a while without speaking. Just two people holding hands, taking in the scenery and the roar of the water. There was a Gordon Lightfoot song that had something about the gales of November, how did it go? "When I left home," Melissa began, just loud enough to hear. I turned and watched her, careful to hear what she was saying over the noise of the rapids. I had been hoping for, and dreading this moment, when she decided to get the details of her past out in the open. I resolved to not interrupt and to let her tell it at her own pace. "This was the first place I went." She continued. "I didn't know where to go. I didn't have anywhere to go." She sniffed. We were alone but had someone been watching, her running nose and the tears on her cheek might have been assumed to have been caused by the cold, but I knew differently. I could see the deep down hurt that was welling up, and my heart ached. I squeezed her hand, and let her talk. "Every night for two weeks, I'd leave school, then go up the hill to the mall and sit in the food court to do my homework. When the mall closed, I came here, and parked for the night right over there." She pointed up to the little parking lot where my truck was. "I'd wake up, scrape the snow and frost off the windows, and go to school. I didn't tell anyone because then I'd have to explain why I was sleeping in a car in February. I had friends, but not close friends, you know? Like, not the kind of friends that I could talk to about..." She trailed off and wiped her nose on her jacket sleeve. "I had been lucky, it hadn't been as cold as it should have been, but then one night it got very cold. When I left the mall, I knew if I spent the night here again, I could be in serious danger. So I went to the laundromat. There was never anyone in there in the middle of the night, so I sat at one of the tables and fell asleep. The owner woke me up a couple of hours later, yelling at me that I couldn't sleep there, so I got in my car and came back here." She had been looking at the water as she spoke, but now turned and looked at me. I saw the fear and shame these memories invoked. I wanted to say something, anything to comfort her, but I knew that I should let her say what she needed to say, so I let her continue. "When I went to sleep on the back seat, I didn't think I was going to ever wake up, and I was okay with that. I didn't care that I was going to die. Nobody cared, nobody would miss me. The world would be better off without one more stupid girl. Why bother going on?" She looked away from me, east towards the vast lake, and her face twisted up in anger. "You know, the worst thing, the worst part of all of it, is they made me feel like it was all my fault. They had me so twisted up, that I believed that I was the cause of everything that happened." She turned back to me, the anger fading, leaving just a profound sadness. I wiped the tears from her cheek, and she leaned her shoulder against me. "Did your parents tell you what happened?" My throat was dry, and I swallowed hard before replying. "They were vague." She gave a little smile that was like a sunbeam on a stormy day. "I asked your mom and dad not to tell anyone. You're so lucky to have them." She looked back to the lake and spoke quietly enough that if her face had not been right next to mine, I wouldn't have been able to hear her. "When I was fifteen, when I started looking more like a woman, and less like a little girl, my dad started abusing me. Mom, she was drunk more than she was sober. She knew, she had to know, and she didn't do anything." As the River roared in its ceaseless path to Lake Superior, and the cold wind whistled and rattled through the leafless trees, Melissa spoke of abuse and divorce, lost jobs and social status, the failing of the system to help a girl who was too scared to ask for help and the blame that was assigned for all of it. "So that night, I remember when the state trooper knocked on my window." She gave a brief mirthless huff. "I thought he was an angel, with the way his flashlight lit up the frost on the inside of the window. I thought I was dead, that it was all over. I felt relieved." She shook her head. "The next thing I remember was being in a hospital bed, wrapped in electric blankets, and seeing the sunrise through the window. That trooper was there. He had stayed with me, way past the end of his shift, just to make sure I was alright. Turns out, when they went to my parent's house to see what was going on, my dad was out of town, and my mom ended up getting arrested for assaulting an officer and having a bunch of heroin. That's why she went back to him. Not for me, but for the money to buy her drugs. The trooper persuaded me to reach out to my friends. He said that people can be capable of unexpected acts of kindness, and I decided to believe him. So I called Ashley. We had always gotten along pretty well, and her parents were always super nice to me. They let me stay with them, which was really awkward at first. I just couldn't believe that a family could be so, so perfect. It was like stepping into an old sitcom. Maybe there was a little trouble now and then, but everyone loved each other, and it all worked out in the end. It was surreal, but eventually, I started believing that it was how families should be. That it was right and good, and normal." She looked me in the eyes then, and I saw her love burning through the hurt. "I didn't think that I would ever have that. I thought that there was no way I could ever open up and let someone love me, to be me, to be normal. Who could want me? Then your parents invited me back to the cabin, and I grasped onto a foolish hope that maybe you could. Ever since it's just been, It just doesn't seem real. Charles, I know you love me, but I'm still so afraid." I silenced her with a quick kiss on the lips. I held her cold, rosy cheeks in my hands and looked her in the eyes. "None of what happened was your fault. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. I love you, I will always love you. Nothing in the past, present, or future will stop me from loving you until the end of time, and when we're both gone from this world, I'll find you in the next and keep loving you!" Fresh tears streamed down her face, not tears of remembered pain, but tears of joyful love. She threw her arms around me and we held each other tight. Overhead, a hawk called, adding its little part to the scene of wind, water, and young lovers. Chapter Seventeen. Getting in my truck and leaving Duluth that evening was the hardest thing I had ever done. The only thing that gave me the strength to leave was the knowledge that it was only temporary. Soon, very soon, I would never have to leave her again. When I got home, Mom was at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. She greeted me with a smile. I had to be very careful with how I was going to handle this conversation. I didn't want to lie to my mom, but I also didn't want to tell her the whole truth. "How was your weekend? I didn't get a call from the cops, so it couldn't have been too exciting." "I was the cop! We went to a Halloween party dressed as the Village People." "Fun!" Mom exclaimed, giving me a beaming smile. "Yeah, and something else happened. Do you know how I can get my employee discount at any store? Well, we stopped at one of the stores in Duluth, and I ended up talking with the yard manager. They've been having trouble finding someone competent to drive a forklift, and if I transferred up there, they'd give me a raise and make me an assistant manager. He said I could start working up there in two weeks." All of these individual facts were technically true, but it still felt like lying. "Good for you! It's great to have in-demand skills. That's a long way to drive though." "Yeah, it would be like, five hours of driving every day." "Did you look into getting an apartment up there?" Mom folded up the newspaper and gave me her undivided attention. "After the school year starts, there's literally nothing cheap available." "Where would you stay then?" She asked, looking concerned. "Well, on the way home, I was thinking about who I know that lives up there. Rob lives in a dorm, so I couldn't get away with staying there long-term. But then I remembered that Melissa lives in Duluth, I could maybe call her and see if she wants a roommate." Okay, this last bit was a lie. I didn't feel good about it, but it had to be done. "Our Melissa? Have you called her yet?" "Not yet. I'm pretty sure I have her number in my phone." "You should figure this out sooner rather than later." She looked at the clock. "It's not too late, give her a call now." I made a show of finding Melissa's number as if I hadn't memorized it weeks ago. Melissa and I had rehearsed this moment. I had the volume on my phone turned way up, so my mom was sure to hear Melissa's side of the conversation too. "Hello?" Melissa's angelic voice asked after three rings. "Hi Melissa, it's Charles." "Charles! It's good to hear from you! What's up?" "Well, I'm going to be transferring up there for work, and I was wondering if you would mind having me as a roommate until I found a place of my own." Another necessary lie. "Yeah, I guess that would be okay. You're not going to find anywhere else to stay until the end of the school year. Even then, I was lucky to get this place, this spring." "So, you're okay with me staying with you?" "Yeah, it'll be fun. Like staying at the cabin, but I don't think my landlord would approve of campfires." "I'll pay half the rent, and utilities, and everything." "Naturally," Melissa said. "I was going to ask one of my friends if they wanted to move in. Only paying half the rent will make saving for school a lot easier." "Cool. So, I guess I'll give you a call tomorrow, and we can figure out the details?" "Yeah, okay." "I'm talking with my mom right now, so I should probably let you go." "Hi Mom!" Melissa yelled. "Hi, Melissa," Mom replied, loud enough to be sure that the phone picked it up. "Talk to you tomorrow, bye!" Melissa said, much quieter this time. "Bye." I had to be very careful not to reflexively say I love you. I put my phone away and noticed that my mom was studying me with a funny little smile on her face. Then in the most casual tone, she asked. "So, does she love you as much as you love her?" My heart nearly stopped. I couldn't respond. "That was a lovely charade. Unnecessary, but lovely." I couldn't speak. My brain frantically searched for words but found only shocked silence. "Oh, honey." She began, in a soothing motherly voice. "You're my baby. Did you think I wouldn't know? It was plain to see at the cabin that you two are in love. You spent the weekend with her?" I forced myself to reply. "Yes," I said, fearing that it was all over. I felt like crying. "Good," Mom said simply. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Mom knew about me and Melissa, and she was... Happy for me? "So, you're not mad about us?" "Oh, Charles. Love is so precious. It doesn't matter where you find it, but when you do, you hold on with both hands and never let go." My tears came then, flowing hard as I released all my pent-up fears and anxiety. Mom held me as I cried on her shoulder. She gently rubbed my back like she used to do when I was a kid. When my crying subsided, she held my shoulders at arm's length. "Now, tell me about her." I did. In the conversation that followed, I was more honest and open about my feelings than I could remember being to anyone other than Melissa. I explained how we knew what each other was thinking or feeling, just by looking into each other's eyes. I told her how I wanted to improve myself, to be a better person for Melissa. And, looking back on it with a touch of horror, I did my best to explain the connection I felt with Melissa when we made love. Throughout it all, my mother was nothing but caring and understanding. After all the fear of this moment, it was surreal. It felt so good, so liberating to tell her how I felt about Melissa. When I was done, I asked Mom. "Does Dad know?" "Oh, I doubt he picked up on it." "Are you going to tell him?" Of all the people in the family, I was sure that Dad would be the least likely to accept. He had always been very traditional. Kind and gentle, but with a very strict moral compass. "Of course. He's my husband. The way you feel about Melissa, I feel about him." She hugged me again. "Don't be ashamed. Love her with all your heart, and everything else will work itself out." She kissed me on the cheek and told me that she loved me. I told her that I loved her too, and said goodnight. I went to my bedroom, shut the door, and called Melissa. "What's up?" She answered. "I didn't think I'd hear from you until tomorrow." Deciding to just be direct about it, I said. "My mother has officially given us her blessing." The line was silent as Melissa processed this. When she spoke, I could tell that she was crying. "How did she find out?" She asked. I recounted the whole conversation. "See? I told you your mom was the best." "She really is." "So, what now?" She asked, with a bit of anxiety. "She said that she had to tell everyone because it's better to have it out in the open than have to keep lying to the family. I agreed." After a short pause, Melissa said. "Me too." As it turns out, my family's reaction was both better than I had feared and worse than I had hoped. My parents had called a family meeting and all of my immediate family, and their spouses, showed up. There were those like my mom, and my brother Mark, who were supportive and genuinely happy for me. On the other end of things, there were people like my second older brother, Stephen, and his wife, who were disgusted and called me a pervert. Most were somewhere in the middle, either not understanding and being polite about it, or just ambivalent to the whole issue. Then there was my dad. He just sat there the whole time, with a frown on his face, and never spoke a word. I couldn't tell if he was ashamed, or angry, or what, and it tore me up inside. He had never in his life been shy about voicing his opinion. After my mom, he was who I needed acceptance from the most. I desperately wanted him to say something, anything, but he never did. His silence cut deeper than any insult or accusation ever could. At the beginning, and with prompting from my mom, I had stood before everyone, confessing Melissa's and my love for each other, and that I was moving out to live with her in Duluth. After the initial shock and spectrum of reactions, I sat down and answered questions. Now, not being able to bear my father's silence any longer, I stood again, interrupting several side conversations. I addressed the whole group, but my words were meant for my father more than anyone. "Melissa and I truly love each other. Nothing you do or say can change it. Accept it, accept us, or don't. I don't care." Dad didn't react, didn't even look me in the eyes. I rushed to my room and locked the door. I curled up on my bed and cried, harder than I could remember ever crying before. The stress of the family meeting and my dad's non-reaction had utterly destroyed me. I held a pillow over my head to muffle the sounds of my uncontrollable sobs, and to hide my face from the world. "What if they're right about you?" A part of my mind asked. "What if you're just a sicko. That's what they all think." "No! I really do love her!" Another part of my mind answered. "What kind of weirdo falls in love with his cousin? What kind of deviant fucks someone in his own family?" "No! Our love is pure and perfect!" "Yeah, perfect. The perfect fantasy of a clinically twisted pervert! You're just taking advantage of a poor broken girl." "No..." I moaned aloud, holding my head in my hands. Sometime after, someone knocked lightly on my bedroom door. I ignored it, lost as I was in terrible contradictory thoughts. The knock came again, and I heard my mom's voice. "Charles, honey. Can I come in?" I didn't respond, knowing that right then I couldn't bear to face anyone, even my mother. "Oh, my baby." She said through the door. "All I want is for you to be happy. Follow your heart, everything will work out. I love you." Her words quieted the thoughts whirling through my mind, and though my sobs faded, the tears continued to flow. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I closed my eyes and imagined Melissa lying next to me. I thought about how if she were here, she would comfort me, and wipe the tears from my face. I could see her so clearly in my mind, see how her icy blue eyes would pour her inexhaustible love into me. Soon, my tears stopped flowing, and I regained a sense of peace. I felt awful for doubting myself, for doubting Melissa, if even for a moment. Our love is right. It is pure and perfect. She made me complete, as I made her complete. I drifted off to sleep, with a smile on my face, thinking about Melissa, and dreaming about the future. Chapter Eighteen. Charles copes with changes, but the biggest is yet to happen. The armrests of the padded chair where I was seated were a little too high to be comfortable, so I kept my hands folded in my lap. I gazed at the paintings of calm rural scenes hung on the walls of the spacious office. I wondered absently if they were real places or just the artist's impression of idyllic country life. I glanced at the woman in the matching chair positioned across from me. She was patiently waiting for me to continue my story, with an encouraging expression on her face. "I moved my things into Melissa's apartment a few days later and spent the night with her a couple of times when I had the day off. After the two weeks were up, I started work at the Duluth store and lived with her from then on. I think the only word to describe the years that followed is heavenly. I wouldn't have changed a single thing." "Tell me more about how your family reacted," said the woman, Dr. Clarke. "Did your father and brother ever come around?" "Dad? Yeah, he just needed a little time to process it. After that, he was as good with it as Mom was. The thing with him was, years before, before anyone knew what had been going on with Melissa's dad, he'd known that something was wrong. I'm not sure how, but he knew. After Melissa left home, he would call and check in on her. He paid to have her car fixed and even paid the deposit on her apartment. He always went out of his way to make her feel like she had people that cared. I think he loved her as if she were his own daughter, so the whole thing with the two of us was kind of a shock. When Melissa and I went to my parent's place for Thanksgiving, later that month; and he saw firsthand how happy she was, it wasn't an issue." "And your brother, Stephen?" Dr. Clarke prompted. "That same Thanksgiving, I ended up knocking him down with a punch to the face. He said that Melissa's family were all degenerates and that Melissa was just bringing that degeneracy to our family now. That was the last time I ever saw him." I forced my clenched fists to relax and laid my palms flat on my thighs. "Have you ever thought about reaching out to him? People can change a lot in twenty-four years." "No," I said firmly. "It was his choice to ostracize himself from our family, and I want nothing to do with someone capable of being so deliberately malicious. He knew that she was just beginning to heal the trauma that had been done to her; and had said what he did, specifically to hurt her. Someone capable of doing that will always be capable of doing it." "You might be surprised by how much people can change," She said, as she scribbled a few lines in her notepad. "Maybe," I said, brows furrowing. Those words had made their way into Melissa's nightmares. My fists clenched again, as I remembered all the times I was awoken in the middle of the night by her sobs. I remembered how helpless I felt, being able to do nothing but console her; and hold her until she fell back asleep. My knuckles were white, and my fists trembled slightly. I saw Dr. Clarke glance down at my hands, but she did not indicate what she was thinking. Therapists must make superb poker players. "Some things just can't be forgiven," I said quietly, forcing my hands to relax. "Again, you might be surprised. We can talk more about that next week." She set aside her notepad and glanced up at the clock on the wall behind me. "Now close your eyes, and concentrate on your breathing. Take a slow deep breath, imagining all your negative emotions as a tangible thing. Now breathe out slowly as all those emotions evaporate and exit your body like smoke. Again, deep inhale, and out. Good. Feel your mind become still as your breath carries away the pain. Once more, in, and out. Good." For some reason, this technique worked for me. If left alone, my thoughts naturally gravitated to the bad memories, and each one brought two more with it until I became overwhelmed. I would become mentally gridlocked to the point of not being able to function in everyday life. "When I say the word joy, what is the first thing that pops into your mind?" My eyes were still closed, and I smiled. "Melissa's face when she first saw me that October weekend reunion, at the cabin." "Good. Keep up your breathing exercise. All the pain is gone, only the joy remains. Describe the scene for me. What else do you see? What do you smell and hear?" A single tear rolled down my cheek. I'm not sure why I started to cry, whether it was joy in the image of her, so happy and full of promise for the future, or sorrow because that future is gone. I would never again see her smile. "Sunbeams cut down through the trees, lighting up smoke drifting from the fire pit. She passes through one, and her hair glows like golden fire. I smell the white pines, strong in the soft breeze, and the smell of burning oak. A loon call echoes up from the lake, and all around the cabin yard, there is the quiet burble of conversations and laughter." I wiped the tears from my face with a flannel shirt sleeve and looked away from Dr. Clarke. I still felt embarrassed to cry in front of another person. "That sounds lovely. Hold on to that moment, use it as a refuge." She glanced at the clock again and stood. I stood as well, taking a tissue from the box on the coffee table to dry my eyes. She walked me to her office door. "Thank you for sharing today, Charles. I think you are doing very well." As she opened the door, she asked. "Have you gone to the aromatherapy shop we talked about last week?" "No," I said dejectedly. "I was going to, but..." I had meant to go, but sometimes certain things were just impossible to make myself do. Going into an unfamiliar place and talking to a stranger was one of those things. Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldn't. This hadn't been a particularly good week, and the thought of talking to someone new, someone who would ask questions about why I was there, questions that would bring up painful memories, was simply unthinkable. Yesterday, I had made it all the way to my car and had the key in the ignition, but then I just sat there, unable to make myself go through with it. "That's ok." Said Dr. Clarke. I knew she knew why I didn't go, and I had gotten to the point where I felt safe sharing my feelings with her, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of shame. "Addy is very good at what she does, and she has helped many of my clients. She's a friend." I nodded and started moving through the doorway. Ending conversations always seemed so awkward. I never knew what to say. "Thank you for being so open today, Charles. See you again next week." She was looking at my eyes, and I met her gaze briefly before looking away. In recent years, I had become very uncomfortable making anything more than the briefest of eye contact with people, especially women, so I was usually at a huge disadvantage when it came to reading people's motivations and emotions. In that brief glimpse though, I caught the impression of empathy and a real desire to help. It felt really good to know that someone cared. I gave her a genuine smile and left. I left her office with the intention of going directly to the shop she had recommended, but by the time I was in my car, I just... couldn't. This is what my life had become. I could go from being on the verge of drowning in a sea of sorrow to feeling positive and optimistic in an instant, then back just as fast. But mostly, it was what I called 'the gray'. I am self-aware enough to understand how it began. Instead of dealing with certain traumatic events, my brain decided that it was easier and far less painful, just to push them aside. The problem is, that those things don't just go away. No matter how hard you push them down, they keep bubbling back up, and you end up pushing everything away in the effort. Then one day you realize that living in the gray was the only way to survive because every little bit of emotion, good or bad, could open the gates and let all the pain come rushing in. I had pushed everything and everyone aside for the sake of self-preservation, and it was killing me. I knew I needed help. I knew that the person I was, wasn't really me. The problem was, I had been in the gray so long, that I couldn't remember how it was before, not really. I knew that I had been happy once, that I had hopes and dreams. But that was all gone, lost in the gray. Chapter Nineteen. The next day turned out to be one of the good ones. I was able to get myself out of bed, dressed, and in the car. I decided that I would finally make it to this aromatherapy shop Dr. Clarke wanted me to go to. I turned the key in the ignition, and my geriatric Honda Civic purred to life. I quickly released the emergency brake and shifted into reverse. I backed out of my parking spot with a sigh. There, I did it. The hard part was over, and now that I had started the task, it would be easier to go through with it. Don't ask me why that makes sense, I wouldn't know how to even start explaining. I enjoyed my drive across town. It was a beautiful day in Duluth. Down near Lake Superior, it was a little breezy and a comfortable 65 degrees, perfect for driving with the windows down. Climbing the hill on 194, the farther I got away from the lake, the hotter it got. By the time I got to the shop, it was nearly 80 degrees, and I had begun to sweat. A typical July day in the Twin Ports. I've always said, that this was one of the things I loved most about living in Duluth. It could be hot as hell up on top of the hill, but if the wind was right, it was always cool near the lake. I shut the car off and set the E brake. I wiped a bit of sweat off my brow, and it occurred to me that I was wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday and that I hadn't showered. Hit with a sudden wave of shame and embarrassment about meeting someone new in this state, I almost just left to go back home. With an effort of willpower, I opened the car door and stepped out. Task begun. I walked in and was greeted by a smiling older lady that I assumed was Addy. "Hi, um, Dr. Clarke sent me." Addy's smile widened. "Oh, come in, come in. I'm Addy." "I'm Charles," I replied, meeting her eyes for the briefest moment. "Pleased to meet you, Charles. How is Rose doing these days?" Dr. Clarke's first name was Virginia. She had grown up in Virginia, Minnesota, and I think she was still annoyed by her unimaginative parents, because she liked to use her middle name, Rose. I almost exclusively used 'Dr. Clarke' when speaking with or about her. "I've been seeing her for a couple of months now. She's nice." I never seemed to know how to answer questions like that. I grimaced inwardly at my awkwardness. "She's a sweetheart, and good at her job. I saw her for years." She led me over to a glass counter filled with hundreds of small labeled bottles. "So, are we looking for something to help you relax?" "Something to help me remember." I paused briefly, trying to find the right words. "Well, remembering isn't the issue." I felt a rush of awkwardness and a little bit of embarrassment in talking about something so personal with a stranger. My cheeks flushed, and I looked at the bottles in the case to ensure I didn't accidentally make eye contact. "I want to be able to focus on just the one thing." "Tell me about it." I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. "There's smoke from the campfire, mostly oak. Maybe a tiny bit of something acrid, like someone had thrown a plastic plate in the fire." As I spoke, I could hear Addy selecting a few bottles from a rack within the display case. "Pine trees. Even with the smoke, the pines smell strong." "Spruce?" Addy asked politely. "No, White Pine. The needles and sap are everywhere." "Anything else?" I took another deep breath but didn't reply. "Sometimes there's things around us that have a scent, but we're either too used to it, or its faint enough that we don't remember without smelling it. What else was there? Is this a campground?" Addy asked in what I recognized as being in a deliberately unobtrusive way. "It's a cabin," I replied, searching the mental image for things that may have a scent. "It's an old log cabin, surrounded by white pines. There's a log pile. My brother had been using the chainsaw earlier. My truck is parked in the driveway, it smells like gas because the tank leaks a little bit. Someone had mowed the little patch of grass in front of the cabin." "Is there anyone there, wearing perfume or aftershave?" I nodded my head in the affirmative. Addy gave me time to answer. "She..." I struggled to find words to describe Melissa's scent. How do you describe such a thing to someone? How do you describe a sunset to a blind person, or describe to a deaf person the emotions evoked by the Moonlight Sonata? She smelled like love, and I still smell her on the clothes I keep in her dresser. "You know how strawberry plants don't smell like strawberry? Not like the fake strawberry candy scent?" Of course, she did, but I went on. "A strawberry blossom. Delicate, faint, with just the promise of sweetness." "She was someone special," Addy said, in more of a statement than a question. "I ended up marrying her. She;" A tear rolled down my cheek. "Nine years ago;" I just couldn't force the words out of my mouth. I could tell Addy the exact date and time. I could tell her that we had just gone to see The Martian in the movie theater and that the night was clear and cool after the late August thunderstorm earlier that afternoon. I could tell her what song was playing on the radio. I could tell her the look on Melissa's face when the headlights crossed through the median in front of us. What I couldn't say, was physically unable to, was that nine years ago, Melissa died. "It's okay, dear," Addy said. She had a grandmotherly voice, full of kindness and understanding. For the briefest of moments, the power of that gentle voice made me believe that yes, everything would be okay. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll have something for you to try." I nodded and wandered away from the counter, absently browsing the candles and incense as I tried to compose myself. As I looked through the shop it occurred to me how posh the place seemed. High-dollar products are meant to be sold to people who have the luxury of ignoring price tags. I did not have that luxury. I felt anxiety and a general shame of the complete fuck up I had become. If this costs more than about forty dollars, I wouldn't be able to afford groceries this week. "Charles, it's ready," Addy called from the other side of the store. I walked over and closed my eyes as she extended a small glass bottle filled with clear liquid. I breathed deeply and conjured the scene in my mind. The scent of Addy's mixture hit me like a lightning bolt. It was like reading a book in the dark, and then someone turned on the lights. Everything came into sharp focus like I was there. The smoke, the pines, and, My breath caught in my throat. Buried deep within the mix there was something light, something so tenuous you hardly knew it was there. It was Melissa. In my mind, she threw herself into my arms, and I could smell her. I could smell her. "How?" I asked, looking her in the eyes for the first time since my initial glance. Addy smiled warmly, and I could see genuine care in her face, not just the politeness of a shop owner to a customer. "If she had been wearing perfume, it would have been harder. We remember scents much better than we think we do. Sometimes all we need is a little hint, and it's brought right to the front." Dr. Clarke was right, Addy was good. "Your idea about the strawberry flowers was good. They're very faint and don't smell like much at all, definitely not strawberries. But when you know that you have strawberry flowers, and you smell them, your brain brings up the memory of strawberries. Scents are all connected in our minds, and are rooted deep down at the very foundation of memory." Addy put a rubber stopper in the bottle and carefully placed the bottle in a velvet pouch with her shop's logo on it. She held it out for me to take. A tear dripped off my jaw, and I quickly wiped my face on a sleeve. "How much?" I started to ask, again acutely aware of my wrinkled clothes, my general lack of personal hygiene, and the depressingly small balance of my bank account. Addy cut me off with a raised hand. "Rose is a friend of mine, and any friend of hers is also a friend of mine." She pushed the velvet bag into my hands. "No, I can't;" Addy stopped me again. "Most of my clients just want something that smells nice in their bathroom, or to cover the smell of weed. I'm perfectly happy to take their money." She placed her hands on mine, still clutching the velvet bag. "It's very rare that I get to help someone. Take it as a gift, with my thanks." I was speechless, and fresh tears rolled down my face. I couldn't remember the last time someone was so altruistically kind to me. "Thank you." Was all I could say. To be continued in part 6. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts, for Literotica.

Cabin Cousins: Part 5 The Gales of November. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connections. "Hmm" Melissa said, her face still buried in the pillow. She shifted and turned her head, and I moved to her side with one arm and a leg still draped over so we could look into each other's eyes. "Wow. That was..." She sighed. "...Wonderful." I smiled and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did." She squinted at me. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming, and you're just a figment of my imagination?" She said playfully, though I could tell there was something serious behind the question. "I'm real, and I'm right here, in your bed, and I love you." She searched my eyes for a moment, rolled onto her side, and pulled me in close, kissing me deeply. When we stopped kissing to catch our breath, she whispered. "It's our bed, and I love you too." We held each other in silence for a long while. I knew that she had something else to say, but I didn't push her. Eventually, she broke the silence. "Do you want pancakes? I want pancakes." Not exactly the soul-baring statement I was expecting, but now that she had said it, by damn I wanted pancakes. "I'll help." I had made pancakes exactly once before, and it wasn't a complete disaster, so I felt that my inclusion in the process wouldn't be too much of a hindrance. She got a distant look in her eye, then rolled onto her back, and covered her face with her hands with a groan. "I don't have any pancake mix." She peeked at me through her fingers and we both started laughing. I'm not sure why but we both found it hilarious but we roared with laughter. I playfully pushed her towards the side of the bed. "Well, get dressed. I'll take you out for breakfast." Still laughing, she got up and opened a dresser drawer. Stepping into a pair of light blue panties, she asked. "Are you getting dressed too, or are you going to go like that?" "I'm thinking about it." I quipped, eyes following her every movement. I loved watching her move. She had a litheness and grace to her. Cat-like? No, that's not quite right. Amazonian? Maybe, but that implies a stature and bulk that Melissa didn't have. She was fit, not body builder muscular, and she wasn't particularly tall, just shy of my own five foot ten. She was perfect, and my eyes couldn't get enough of her. Let's leave it at that. "You'll give the old ladies at Perkins quite a shock." She shot back, still laughing. With an exaggerated sigh, I rolled off the bed. "For the sake of the old ladies, fine, I'll get dressed." Chapter Sixteen. The plate clinked as Melissa set down her fork. "Ugh. I ate too much, but that really hit the spot." She had attacked her "tremendous twelve" meal with murderous intent. All that remained was a scrap of crust from a piece of toast, and some maple syrup residue on an otherwise clean plate. She had even swiped a strip of bacon off of my plate, an act that left fork marks on my brother's hands on several occasions. I looked at my plate, with its pile of hash browns and a third of a stack of pancakes remaining, and set down my fork. "I guess I didn't work up as much of an appetite as you, cause I'm stuffed too." Melissa looked at me with her special smile and mischievous eyes. "Well, you'll have to try harder next time." "I need to work out more." "I can help with that." She replied, and we both giggled, knowing the truth of it. "Let's start with a walk." We left the Perkins restaurant, and with Melissa navigating, we drove north out of Duluth on Hwy 61. We pulled off and parked where a little river crossed under the road and spilled through a steep set of rocky rapids to Lake Superior below. We hiked down a little trail, and she led me out onto one of the big rocks. The scenery was spectacular, and the water rushing past the rocks had a hypnotic quality. It hadn't snowed last night, but the wind was blowing hard off the lake, and the constant mist from the rapids gave the crisp early November air some real bite. We sat for a while without speaking. Just two people holding hands, taking in the scenery and the roar of the water. There was a Gordon Lightfoot song that had something about the gales of November, how did it go? "When I left home," Melissa began, just loud enough to hear. I turned and watched her, careful to hear what she was saying over the noise of the rapids. I had been hoping for, and dreading this moment, when she decided to get the details of her past out in the open. I resolved to not interrupt and to let her tell it at her own pace. "This was the first place I went." She continued. "I didn't know where to go. I didn't have anywhere to go." She sniffed. We were alone but had someone been watching, her running nose and the tears on her cheek might have been assumed to have been caused by the cold, but I knew differently. I could see the deep down hurt that was welling up, and my heart ached. I squeezed her hand, and let her talk. "Every night for two weeks, I'd leave school, then go up the hill to the mall and sit in the food court to do my homework. When the mall closed, I came here, and parked for the night right over there." She pointed up to the little parking lot where my truck was. "I'd wake up, scrape the snow and frost off the windows, and go to school. I didn't tell anyone because then I'd have to explain why I was sleeping in a car in February. I had friends, but not close friends, you know? Like, not the kind of friends that I could talk to about..." She trailed off and wiped her nose on her jacket sleeve. "I had been lucky, it hadn't been as cold as it should have been, but then one night it got very cold. When I left the mall, I knew if I spent the night here again, I could be in serious danger. So I went to the laundromat. There was never anyone in there in the middle of the night, so I sat at one of the tables and fell asleep. The owner woke me up a couple of hours later, yelling at me that I couldn't sleep there, so I got in my car and came back here." She had been looking at the water as she spoke, but now turned and looked at me. I saw the fear and shame these memories invoked. I wanted to say something, anything to comfort her, but I knew that I should let her say what she needed to say, so I let her continue. "When I went to sleep on the back seat, I didn't think I was going to ever wake up, and I was okay with that. I didn't care that I was going to die. Nobody cared, nobody would miss me. The world would be better off without one more stupid girl. Why bother going on?" She looked away from me, east towards the vast lake, and her face twisted up in anger. "You know, the worst thing, the worst part of all of it, is they made me feel like it was all my fault. They had me so twisted up, that I believed that I was the cause of everything that happened." She turned back to me, the anger fading, leaving just a profound sadness. I wiped the tears from her cheek, and she leaned her shoulder against me. "Did your parents tell you what happened?" My throat was dry, and I swallowed hard before replying. "They were vague." She gave a little smile that was like a sunbeam on a stormy day. "I asked your mom and dad not to tell anyone. You're so lucky to have them." She looked back to the lake and spoke quietly enough that if her face had not been right next to mine, I wouldn't have been able to hear her. "When I was fifteen, when I started looking more like a woman, and less like a little girl, my dad started abusing me. Mom, she was drunk more than she was sober. She knew, she had to know, and she didn't do anything." As the River roared in its ceaseless path to Lake Superior, and the cold wind whistled and rattled through the leafless trees, Melissa spoke of abuse and divorce, lost jobs and social status, the failing of the system to help a girl who was too scared to ask for help and the blame that was assigned for all of it. "So that night, I remember when the state trooper knocked on my window." She gave a brief mirthless huff. "I thought he was an angel, with the way his flashlight lit up the frost on the inside of the window. I thought I was dead, that it was all over. I felt relieved." She shook her head. "The next thing I remember was being in a hospital bed, wrapped in electric blankets, and seeing the sunrise through the window. That trooper was there. He had stayed with me, way past the end of his shift, just to make sure I was alright. Turns out, when they went to my parent's house to see what was going on, my dad was out of town, and my mom ended up getting arrested for assaulting an officer and having a bunch of heroin. That's why she went back to him. Not for me, but for the money to buy her drugs. The trooper persuaded me to reach out to my friends. He said that people can be capable of unexpected acts of kindness, and I decided to believe him. So I called Ashley. We had always gotten along pretty well, and her parents were always super nice to me. They let me stay with them, which was really awkward at first. I just couldn't believe that a family could be so, so perfect. It was like stepping into an old sitcom. Maybe there was a little trouble now and then, but everyone loved each other, and it all worked out in the end. It was surreal, but eventually, I started believing that it was how families should be. That it was right and good, and normal." She looked me in the eyes then, and I saw her love burning through the hurt. "I didn't think that I would ever have that. I thought that there was no way I could ever open up and let someone love me, to be me, to be normal. Who could want me? Then your parents invited me back to the cabin, and I grasped onto a foolish hope that maybe you could. Ever since it's just been, It just doesn't seem real. Charles, I know you love me, but I'm still so afraid." I silenced her with a quick kiss on the lips. I held her cold, rosy cheeks in my hands and looked her in the eyes. "None of what happened was your fault. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. I love you, I will always love you. Nothing in the past, present, or future will stop me from loving you until the end of time, and when we're both gone from this world, I'll find you in the next and keep loving you!" Fresh tears streamed down her face, not tears of remembered pain, but tears of joyful love. She threw her arms around me and we held each other tight. Overhead, a hawk called, adding its little part to the scene of wind, water, and young lovers. Chapter Seventeen. Getting in my truck and leaving Duluth that evening was the hardest thing I had ever done. The only thing that gave me the strength to leave was the knowledge that it was only temporary. Soon, very soon, I would never have to leave her again. When I got home, Mom was at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. She greeted me with a smile. I had to be very careful with how I was going to handle this conversation. I didn't want to lie to my mom, but I also didn't want to tell her the whole truth. "How was your weekend? I didn't get a call from the cops, so it couldn't have been too exciting." "I was the cop! We went to a Halloween party dressed as the Village People." "Fun!" Mom exclaimed, giving me a beaming smile. "Yeah, and something else happened. Do you know how I can get my employee discount at any store? Well, we stopped at one of the stores in Duluth, and I ended up talking with the yard manager. They've been having trouble finding someone competent to drive a forklift, and if I transferred up there, they'd give me a raise and make me an assistant manager. He said I could start working up there in two weeks." All of these individual facts were technically true, but it still felt like lying. "Good for you! It's great to have in-demand skills. That's a long way to drive though." "Yeah, it would be like, five hours of driving every day." "Did you look into getting an apartment up there?" Mom folded up the newspaper and gave me her undivided attention. "After the school year starts, there's literally nothing cheap available." "Where would you stay then?" She asked, looking concerned. "Well, on the way home, I was thinking about who I know that lives up there. Rob lives in a dorm, so I couldn't get away with staying there long-term. But then I remembered that Melissa lives in Duluth, I could maybe call her and see if she wants a roommate." Okay, this last bit was a lie. I didn't feel good about it, but it had to be done. "Our Melissa? Have you called her yet?" "Not yet. I'm pretty sure I have her number in my phone." "You should figure this out sooner rather than later." She looked at the clock. "It's not too late, give her a call now." I made a show of finding Melissa's number as if I hadn't memorized it weeks ago. Melissa and I had rehearsed this moment. I had the volume on my phone turned way up, so my mom was sure to hear Melissa's side of the conversation too. "Hello?" Melissa's angelic voice asked after three rings. "Hi Melissa, it's Charles." "Charles! It's good to hear from you! What's up?" "Well, I'm going to be transferring up there for work, and I was wondering if you would mind having me as a roommate until I found a place of my own." Another necessary lie. "Yeah, I guess that would be okay. You're not going to find anywhere else to stay until the end of the school year. Even then, I was lucky to get this place, this spring." "So, you're okay with me staying with you?" "Yeah, it'll be fun. Like staying at the cabin, but I don't think my landlord would approve of campfires." "I'll pay half the rent, and utilities, and everything." "Naturally," Melissa said. "I was going to ask one of my friends if they wanted to move in. Only paying half the rent will make saving for school a lot easier." "Cool. So, I guess I'll give you a call tomorrow, and we can figure out the details?" "Yeah, okay." "I'm talking with my mom right now, so I should probably let you go." "Hi Mom!" Melissa yelled. "Hi, Melissa," Mom replied, loud enough to be sure that the phone picked it up. "Talk to you tomorrow, bye!" Melissa said, much quieter this time. "Bye." I had to be very careful not to reflexively say I love you. I put my phone away and noticed that my mom was studying me with a funny little smile on her face. Then in the most casual tone, she asked. "So, does she love you as much as you love her?" My heart nearly stopped. I couldn't respond. "That was a lovely charade. Unnecessary, but lovely." I couldn't speak. My brain frantically searched for words but found only shocked silence. "Oh, honey." She began, in a soothing motherly voice. "You're my baby. Did you think I wouldn't know? It was plain to see at the cabin that you two are in love. You spent the weekend with her?" I forced myself to reply. "Yes," I said, fearing that it was all over. I felt like crying. "Good," Mom said simply. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Mom knew about me and Melissa, and she was... Happy for me? "So, you're not mad about us?" "Oh, Charles. Love is so precious. It doesn't matter where you find it, but when you do, you hold on with both hands and never let go." My tears came then, flowing hard as I released all my pent-up fears and anxiety. Mom held me as I cried on her shoulder. She gently rubbed my back like she used to do when I was a kid. When my crying subsided, she held my shoulders at arm's length. "Now, tell me about her." I did. In the conversation that followed, I was more honest and open about my feelings than I could remember being to anyone other than Melissa. I explained how we knew what each other was thinking or feeling, just by looking into each other's eyes. I told her how I wanted to improve myself, to be a better person for Melissa. And, looking back on it with a touch of horror, I did my best to explain the connection I felt with Melissa when we made love. Throughout it all, my mother was nothing but caring and understanding. After all the fear of this moment, it was surreal. It felt so good, so liberating to tell her how I felt about Melissa. When I was done, I asked Mom. "Does Dad know?" "Oh, I doubt he picked up on it." "Are you going to tell him?" Of all the people in the family, I was sure that Dad would be the least likely to accept. He had always been very traditional. Kind and gentle, but with a very strict moral compass. "Of course. He's my husband. The way you feel about Melissa, I feel about him." She hugged me again. "Don't be ashamed. Love her with all your heart, and everything else will work itself out." She kissed me on the cheek and told me that she loved me. I told her that I loved her too, and said goodnight. I went to my bedroom, shut the door, and called Melissa. "What's up?" She answered. "I didn't think I'd hear from you until tomorrow." Deciding to just be direct about it, I said. "My mother has officially given us her blessing." The line was silent as Melissa processed this. When she spoke, I could tell that she was crying. "How did she find out?" She asked. I recounted the whole conversation. "See? I told you your mom was the best." "She really is." "So, what now?" She asked, with a bit of anxiety. "She said that she had to tell everyone because it's better to have it out in the open than have to keep lying to the family. I agreed." After a short pause, Melissa said. "Me too." As it turns out, my family's reaction was both better than I had feared and worse than I had hoped. My parents had called a family meeting and all of my immediate family, and their spouses, showed up. There were those like my mom, and my brother Mark, who were supportive and genuinely happy for me. On the other end of things, there were people like my second older brother, Stephen, and his wife, who were disgusted and called me a pervert. Most were somewhere in the middle, either not understanding and being polite about it, or just ambivalent to the whole issue. Then there was my dad. He just sat there the whole time, with a frown on his face, and never spoke a word. I couldn't tell if he was ashamed, or angry, or what, and it tore me up inside. He had never in his life been shy about voicing his opinion. After my mom, he was who I needed acceptance from the most. I desperately wanted him to say something, anything, but he never did. His silence cut deeper than any insult or accusation ever could. At the beginning, and with prompting from my mom, I had stood before everyone, confessing Melissa's and my love for each other, and that I was moving out to live with her in Duluth. After the initial shock and spectrum of reactions, I sat down and answered questions. Now, not being able to bear my father's silence any longer, I stood again, interrupting several side conversations. I addressed the whole group, but my words were meant for my father more than anyone. "Melissa and I truly love each other. Nothing you do or say can change it. Accept it, accept us, or don't. I don't care." Dad didn't react, didn't even look me in the eyes. I rushed to my room and locked the door. I curled up on my bed and cried, harder than I could remember ever crying before. The stress of the family meeting and my dad's non-reaction had utterly destroyed me. I held a pillow over my head to muffle the sounds of my uncontrollable sobs, and to hide my face from the world. "What if they're right about you?" A part of my mind asked. "What if you're just a sicko. That's what they all think." "No! I really do love her!" Another part of my mind answered. "What kind of weirdo falls in love with his cousin? What kind of deviant fucks someone in his own family?" "No! Our love is pure and perfect!" "Yeah, perfect. The perfect fantasy of a clinically twisted pervert! You're just taking advantage of a poor broken girl." "No..." I moaned aloud, holding my head in my hands. Sometime after, someone knocked lightly on my bedroom door. I ignored it, lost as I was in terrible contradictory thoughts. The knock came again, and I heard my mom's voice. "Charles, honey. Can I come in?" I didn't respond, knowing that right then I couldn't bear to face anyone, even my mother. "Oh, my baby." She said through the door. "All I want is for you to be happy. Follow your heart, everything will work out. I love you." Her words quieted the thoughts whirling through my mind, and though my sobs faded, the tears continued to flow. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I closed my eyes and imagined Melissa lying next to me. I thought about how if she were here, she would comfort me, and wipe the tears from my face. I could see her so clearly in my mind, see how her icy blue eyes would pour her inexhaustible love into me. Soon, my tears stopped flowing, and I regained a sense of peace. I felt awful for doubting myself, for doubting Melissa, if even for a moment. Our love is right. It is pure and perfect. She made me complete, as I made her complete. I drifted off to sleep, with a smile on my face, thinking about Melissa, and dreaming about the future. Chapter Eighteen. Charles copes with changes, but the biggest is yet to happen. The armrests of the padded chair where I was seated were a little too high to be comfortable, so I kept my hands folded in my lap. I gazed at the paintings of calm rural scenes hung on the walls of the spacious office. I wondered absently if they were real places or just the artist's impression of idyllic country life. I glanced at the woman in the matching chair positioned across from me. She was patiently waiting for me to continue my story, with an encouraging expression on her face. "I moved my things into Melissa's apartment a few days later and spent the night with her a couple of times when I had the day off. After the two weeks were up, I started work at the Duluth store and lived with her from then on. I think the only word to describe the years that followed is heavenly. I wouldn't have changed a single thing." "Tell me more about how your family reacted," said the woman, Dr. Clarke. "Did your father and brother ever come around?" "Dad? Yeah, he just needed a little time to process it. After that, he was as good with it as Mom was. The thing with him was, years before, before anyone knew what had been going on with Melissa's dad, he'd known that something was wrong. I'm not sure how, but he knew. After Melissa left home, he would call and check in on her. He paid to have her car fixed and even paid the deposit on her apartment. He always went out of his way to make her feel like she had people that cared. I think he loved her as if she were his own daughter, so the whole thing with the two of us was kind of a shock. When Melissa and I went to my parent's place for Thanksgiving, later that month; and he saw firsthand how happy she was, it wasn't an issue." "And your brother, Stephen?" Dr. Clarke prompted. "That same Thanksgiving, I ended up knocking him down with a punch to the face. He said that Melissa's family were all degenerates and that Melissa was just bringing that degeneracy to our family now. That was the last time I ever saw him." I forced my clenched fists to relax and laid my palms flat on my thighs. "Have you ever thought about reaching out to him? People can change a lot in twenty-four years." "No," I said firmly. "It was his choice to ostracize himself from our family, and I want nothing to do with someone capable of being so deliberately malicious. He knew that she was just beginning to heal the trauma that had been done to her; and had said what he did, specifically to hurt her. Someone capable of doing that will always be capable of doing it." "You might be surprised by how much people can change," She said, as she scribbled a few lines in her notepad. "Maybe," I said, brows furrowing. Those words had made their way into Melissa's nightmares. My fists clenched again, as I remembered all the times I was awoken in the middle of the night by her sobs. I remembered how helpless I felt, being able to do nothing but console her; and hold her until she fell back asleep. My knuckles were white, and my fists trembled slightly. I saw Dr. Clarke glance down at my hands, but she did not indicate what she was thinking. Therapists must make superb poker players. "Some things just can't be forgiven," I said quietly, forcing my hands to relax. "Again, you might be surprised. We can talk more about that next week." She set aside her notepad and glanced up at the clock on the wall behind me. "Now close your eyes, and concentrate on your breathing. Take a slow deep breath, imagining all your negative emotions as a tangible thing. Now breathe out slowly as all those emotions evaporate and exit your body like smoke. Again, deep inhale, and out. Good. Feel your mind become still as your breath carries away the pain. Once more, in, and out. Good." For some reason, this technique worked for me. If left alone, my thoughts naturally gravitated to the bad memories, and each one brought two more with it until I became overwhelmed. I would become mentally gridlocked to the point of not being able to function in everyday life. "When I say the word joy, what is the first thing that pops into your mind?" My eyes were still closed, and I smiled. "Melissa's face when she first saw me that October weekend reunion, at the cabin." "Good. Keep up your breathing exercise. All the pain is gone, only the joy remains. Describe the scene for me. What else do you see? What do you smell and hear?" A single tear rolled down my cheek. I'm not sure why I started to cry, whether it was joy in the image of her, so happy and full of promise for the future, or sorrow because that future is gone. I would never again see her smile. "Sunbeams cut down through the trees, lighting up smoke drifting from the fire pit. She passes through one, and her hair glows like golden fire. I smell the white pines, strong in the soft breeze, and the smell of burning oak. A loon call echoes up from the lake, and all around the cabin yard, there is the quiet burble of conversations and laughter." I wiped the tears from my face with a flannel shirt sleeve and looked away from Dr. Clarke. I still felt embarrassed to cry in front of another person. "That sounds lovely. Hold on to that moment, use it as a refuge." She glanced at the clock again and stood. I stood as well, taking a tissue from the box on the coffee table to dry my eyes. She walked me to her office door. "Thank you for sharing today, Charles. I think you are doing very well." As she opened the door, she asked. "Have you gone to the aromatherapy shop we talked about last week?" "No," I said dejectedly. "I was going to, but..." I had meant to go, but sometimes certain things were just impossible to make myself do. Going into an unfamiliar place and talking to a stranger was one of those things. Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldn't. This hadn't been a particularly good week, and the thought of talking to someone new, someone who would ask questions about why I was there, questions that would bring up painful memories, was simply unthinkable. Yesterday, I had made it all the way to my car and had the key in the ignition, but then I just sat there, unable to make myself go through with it. "That's ok." Said Dr. Clarke. I knew she knew why I didn't go, and I had gotten to the point where I felt safe sharing my feelings with her, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of shame. "Addy is very good at what she does, and she has helped many of my clients. She's a friend." I nodded and started moving through the doorway. Ending conversations always seemed so awkward. I never knew what to say. "Thank you for being so open today, Charles. See you again next week." She was looking at my eyes, and I met her gaze briefly before looking away. In recent years, I had become very uncomfortable making anything more than the briefest of eye contact with people, especially women, so I was usually at a huge disadvantage when it came to reading people's motivations and emotions. In that brief glimpse though, I caught the impression of empathy and a real desire to help. It felt really good to know that someone cared. I gave her a genuine smile and left. I left her office with the intention of going directly to the shop she had recommended, but by the time I was in my car, I just... couldn't. This is what my life had become. I could go from being on the verge of drowning in a sea of sorrow to feeling positive and optimistic in an instant, then back just as fast. But mostly, it was what I called 'the gray'. I am self-aware enough to understand how it began. Instead of dealing with certain traumatic events, my brain decided that it was easier and far less painful, just to push them aside. The problem is, that those things don't just go away. No matter how hard you push them down, they keep bubbling back up, and you end up pushing everything away in the effort. Then one day you realize that living in the gray was the only way to survive because every little bit of emotion, good or bad, could open the gates and let all the pain come rushing in. I had pushed everything and everyone aside for the sake of self-preservation, and it was killing me. I knew I needed help. I knew that the person I was, wasn't really me. The problem was, I had been in the gray so long, that I couldn't remember how it was before, not really. I knew that I had been happy once, that I had hopes and dreams. But that was all gone, lost in the gray. Chapter Nineteen. The next day turned out to be one of the good ones. I was able to get myself out of bed, dressed, and in the car. I decided that I would finally make it to this aromatherapy shop Dr. Clarke wanted me to go to. I turned the key in the ignition, and my geriatric Honda Civic purred to life. I quickly released the emergency brake and shifted into reverse. I backed out of my parking spot with a sigh. There, I did it. The hard part was over, and now that I had started the task, it would be easier to go through with it. Don't ask me why that makes sense, I wouldn't know how to even start explaining. I enjoyed my drive across town. It was a beautiful day in Duluth. Down near Lake Superior, it was a little breezy and a comfortable 65 degrees, perfect for driving with the windows down. Climbing the hill on 194, the farther I got away from the lake, the hotter it got. By the time I got to the shop, it was nearly 80 degrees, and I had begun to sweat. A typical July day in the Twin Ports. I've always said, that this was one of the things I loved most about living in Duluth. It could be hot as hell up on top of the hill, but if the wind was right, it was always cool near the lake. I shut the car off and set the E brake. I wiped a bit of sweat off my brow, and it occurred to me that I was wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday and that I hadn't showered. Hit with a sudden wave of shame and embarrassment about meeting someone new in this state, I almost just left to go back home. With an effort of willpower, I opened the car door and stepped out. Task begun. I walked in and was greeted by a smiling older lady that I assumed was Addy. "Hi, um, Dr. Clarke sent me." Addy's smile widened. "Oh, come in, come in. I'm Addy." "I'm Charles," I replied, meeting her eyes for the briefest moment. "Pleased to meet you, Charles. How is Rose doing these days?" Dr. Clarke's first name was Virginia. She had grown up in Virginia, Minnesota, and I think she was still annoyed by her unimaginative parents, because she liked to use her middle name, Rose. I almost exclusively used 'Dr. Clarke' when speaking with or about her. "I've been seeing her for a couple of months now. She's nice." I never seemed to know how to answer questions like that. I grimaced inwardly at my awkwardness. "She's a sweetheart, and good at her job. I saw her for years." She led me over to a glass counter filled with hundreds of small labeled bottles. "So, are we looking for something to help you relax?" "Something to help me remember." I paused briefly, trying to find the right words. "Well, remembering isn't the issue." I felt a rush of awkwardness and a little bit of embarrassment in talking about something so personal with a stranger. My cheeks flushed, and I looked at the bottles in the case to ensure I didn't accidentally make eye contact. "I want to be able to focus on just the one thing." "Tell me about it." I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. "There's smoke from the campfire, mostly oak. Maybe a tiny bit of something acrid, like someone had thrown a plastic plate in the fire." As I spoke, I could hear Addy selecting a few bottles from a rack within the display case. "Pine trees. Even with the smoke, the pines smell strong." "Spruce?" Addy asked politely. "No, White Pine. The needles and sap are everywhere." "Anything else?" I took another deep breath but didn't reply. "Sometimes there's things around us that have a scent, but we're either too used to it, or its faint enough that we don't remember without smelling it. What else was there? Is this a campground?" Addy asked in what I recognized as being in a deliberately unobtrusive way. "It's a cabin," I replied, searching the mental image for things that may have a scent. "It's an old log cabin, surrounded by white pines. There's a log pile. My brother had been using the chainsaw earlier. My truck is parked in the driveway, it smells like gas because the tank leaks a little bit. Someone had mowed the little patch of grass in front of the cabin." "Is there anyone there, wearing perfume or aftershave?" I nodded my head in the affirmative. Addy gave me time to answer. "She..." I struggled to find words to describe Melissa's scent. How do you describe such a thing to someone? How do you describe a sunset to a blind person, or describe to a deaf person the emotions evoked by the Moonlight Sonata? She smelled like love, and I still smell her on the clothes I keep in her dresser. "You know how strawberry plants don't smell like strawberry? Not like the fake strawberry candy scent?" Of course, she did, but I went on. "A strawberry blossom. Delicate, faint, with just the promise of sweetness." "She was someone special," Addy said, in more of a statement than a question. "I ended up marrying her. She;" A tear rolled down my cheek. "Nine years ago;" I just couldn't force the words out of my mouth. I could tell Addy the exact date and time. I could tell her that we had just gone to see The Martian in the movie theater and that the night was clear and cool after the late August thunderstorm earlier that afternoon. I could tell her what song was playing on the radio. I could tell her the look on Melissa's face when the headlights crossed through the median in front of us. What I couldn't say, was physically unable to, was that nine years ago, Melissa died. "It's okay, dear," Addy said. She had a grandmotherly voice, full of kindness and understanding. For the briefest of moments, the power of that gentle voice made me believe that yes, everything would be okay. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll have something for you to try." I nodded and wandered away from the counter, absently browsing the candles and incense as I tried to compose myself. As I looked through the shop it occurred to me how posh the place seemed. High-dollar products are meant to be sold to people who have the luxury of ignoring price tags. I did not have that luxury. I felt anxiety and a general shame of the complete fuck up I had become. If this costs more than about forty dollars, I wouldn't be able to afford groceries this week. "Charles, it's ready," Addy called from the other side of the store. I walked over and closed my eyes as she extended a small glass bottle filled with clear liquid. I breathed deeply and conjured the scene in my mind. The scent of Addy's mixture hit me like a lightning bolt. It was like reading a book in the dark, and then someone turned on the lights. Everything came into sharp focus like I was there. The smoke, the pines, and, My breath caught in my throat. Buried deep within the mix there was something light, something so tenuous you hardly knew it was there. It was Melissa. In my mind, she threw herself into my arms, and I could smell her. I could smell her. "How?" I asked, looking her in the eyes for the first time since my initial glance. Addy smiled warmly, and I could see genuine care in her face, not just the politeness of a shop owner to a customer. "If she had been wearing perfume, it would have been harder. We remember scents much better than we think we do. Sometimes all we need is a little hint, and it's brought right to the front." Dr. Clarke was right, Addy was good. "Your idea about the strawberry flowers was good. They're very faint and don't smell like much at all, definitely not strawberries. But when you know that you have strawberry flowers, and you smell them, your brain brings up the memory of strawberries. Scents are all connected in our minds, and are rooted deep down at the very foundation of memory." Addy put a rubber stopper in the bottle and carefully placed the bottle in a velvet pouch with her shop's logo on it. She held it out for me to take. A tear dripped off my jaw, and I quickly wiped my face on a sleeve. "How much?" I started to ask, again acutely aware of my wrinkled clothes, my general lack of personal hygiene, and the depressingly small balance of my bank account. Addy cut me off with a raised hand. "Rose is a friend of mine, and any friend of hers is also a friend of mine." She pushed the velvet bag into my hands. "No, I can't;" Addy stopped me again. "Most of my clients just want something that smells nice in their bathroom, or to cover the smell of weed. I'm perfectly happy to take their money." She placed her hands on mine, still clutching the velvet bag. "It's very rare that I get to help someone. Take it as a gift, with my thanks." I was speechless, and fresh tears rolled down my face. I couldn't remember the last time someone was so altruistically kind to me. "Thank you." Was all I could say. To be continued in part 6. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts, for Literotica.

In this episode, we perceive a mother's shock, as depicted in Sangam Literary work, Aganaanooru 105, penned by Thaayankannanaar. Set in the 'Paalai' or 'Drylands landscape', the verse depicts the unlikely journey of a young girl through a challenging terrain.

The combination of rose and pistachio is a classic flavor combination that appears in a myriad of desserts all around Europe. From Mahalebi in Cypress, Rožata in Croatia, and panna cotta alla rosa in Italy. Chef Rebecca Peizer from The Culinary Institute of America was inspired to deconstruct this dessert and make her own updated version using products from all over Europe, such as Croatian Rose Hip Jam and Italian Pistachio cream (Pistacchio Verde di Bronte PDO). This milk pudding with rose is light, refreshing, and a perfect summer night treat. Get the Rose Pudding recipe here. 

The polls continue to show a narrow, but diminishing, advantage for Mark Carney's Liberals. But the polls also show that Canadians hold some complicated, and at terms contradictory, views when it comes to the United States and the prime minister's relationship with Donald Trump. It's a delicate balancing act for Carney — one that could easily go badly for the Liberals if they risked (or were forced into) an election in the fall.The week on The Numbers, we talk about the federal polling landscape and what it shows about Canadians' views on our relations with the United States. We also take one last look at the Newfoundland and Labrador provincial election, as well as what the polls are showing ahead of next week's mayoral elections in Calgary and Edmonton. Then, we close with a Quiz.Looking for even more of The Numbers? If you join our Patreon and support this joint project of ours, you'll get ad-free episodes every week, bonus episodes several times per month and access to our lively Discord. Join here! https://www.patreon.com/cw/thenumberspodThe bonus episodes are also available via an Apple Podcasts subscriptionThis episode is available on YouTube. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Yesterday in the Egyptian resort of Sharm El sheikh, the United States, Egypt, Qatar, and Turkey signed the declaration of the Gaza peace deal, making them guarantors of the agreement. President Trump described it as a “tremendous day for the world, and a tremendous day for the middle east,” . But although hostilities have ceased and hostages and prisoners have been exchanged, how delicate is the peace deal agreed?

Join RacingNews365's Ian Parkes, Sam Coop and Nick Golding, as they look ahead to this weekend's United States Grand Prix! The trio discuss how McLaren will use team orders going forwards, and the opportunity it presents Max Verstappen.Rather watch the podcast? Click here!

Balancing school and sports as a Division I athlete requires discipline, mental fortitude, and often, late nights with little rest. Student-athletes at the University of Nevada say the workload both on the field and in the classroom can be overwhelming. For junior women's soccer forward Charlotte Bonney, one of the hardest parts is staying mentally present in class after long training days. “You end up being so drained physically and mentally that it's hard to focus sometimes,” Bonney said. She added that frequent travel for away games makes it easy to fall behind academically. Building strong communication with professors and classmates, she said, has become essential to keeping up. Junior forward Olivia Loomis faces a similar challenge. Majoring in public health, Loomis said the science heavy coursework can be difficult to balance with soccer's demanding schedule. “I try to finish assignments early so I can actually relax at night,” she said. Staying organized and creating daily to do lists, she explained, helps her manage the stress. Defender Natalie Borba said the experience of being a Division I athlete is both rewarding and exhausting. “It's taught me time management,” Borba said. “But it can definitely get overwhelming.” For Nevada athletes, the demands extend far beyond the field. Between classes, practices, film sessions, and travel, the mental strain often rivals the physical one. Still, many say the experience teaches resilience and balance, skills that will last long after their college careers end. Reporting by Ally Larkin

This is an emergency broadcast from the EIC newsroom, on the third of October 2025 Taylor Swift released her twelfth studio album, The Life Of A Show Girl.Here at EIC headquarters we had been warming to Taylor after a collective indifference, but it seems we may have potentially picked a bad time to enSwifticate ourselves. TLOAS tracks were leaked just before release, and immediately, the drama began.The album was recorded in Sweden with the producers Max Martin and Shellback, who she made "22," "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," "Blank Space," "Style," "Shake It Off," "…Ready For It?" and "Delicate."with, mostly during the European leg of the Eras Tour in 2024.The album consists of 12 tracks, with one featuring Sabrina Carpenter. It sold 2.7 million copies in traditional album sales — which include physical and digital formats — in its first day in the U.S. That's according to Luminate, an industry data and analytics company, breaking her previous record for most first week sales with TTPD.In the now infamous episode of her American Football playing fiance's podcast, Taylor described the album as “What was going on behind the scenes in my inner life during this tour, which was so exuberant and electric and vibrant. It just comes from like the most infectiously joyful, wild, dramatic place I was in in my life.“And so that effervescence has come through on this record' she said ‘that the goal of the album was “melodies that were so infectious that you're almost angry at it” and also lyrics that “are as vivid, crisp, focused, and completely intentional.”‘This is the record I've been wanting to make for a very long time. Every single song is on this album for hundreds of reasons … It's just right.” she said.Controversy started with Actually Romantic, which is rumoured to be about Charli xcx, but that isn't her only eyebrow raiser. Some are upset at the highly sexualised nature of tracks like ‘wood', some are critcising her for releasing multiple variants with bonus tracks, or different recordings, to appeal to collectors and boost album sales by counting each variant as a separate purchase; some of the promo videos that used QR codes or other interactive elements were flagged by people online as possibly being made partly with generative AI, which has caused a stir not least because Swift has been vocal about artists needing control of their work and masters, but also because of the awful instance when people made a deepfake of her. However that is unconfirmed.What is confirmed is that for the first time potentially in Swift's career, it's her own fans saying they don't like the album, or are disappointed.We try to see the wood from the trees... see what we did there ;)Thanks so much for all of your takes on this topic, we appreciate you all! O,R,B xxPitchfork reviewRolling Stone reviewTaylor on Travis podcastGuardian reviewNME review BBC review Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

There is a moment right before good things land when the body flinches. The compliment comes in, the sale hits, the room turns toward you - and your capacity to hold more starts to shake.A Delicate Radiance is a subconscious reprogramming for visibility, abundance, and ease. It teaches your body that admiration can be nourishing, that attention can feel quiet, that growth can arrive with systems and support instead of strain.In this episode, you'll receive the encoding for letting your radiance be both delicate and steady—carrying light without burning out, expanding into pleasure and praise without leaving yourself. This is where you learn that “more” can feel lighter, not heavier.

Are Aliens Just an Extension of Our Consciousness? Are psychedelics the only way to tap into a higher state of consciousness? Dr. James B. Glattfelder on the Transcendental Multiverse, Psychedelics, and the Fight for Meaning What if communicating with aliens isn't “out there”, but deep within? In this mind-expanding episode of Mayim Bialik's Breakdown, Dr. James B. Glattfelder, complexity scientist, metaphysical idealist, former quant, and author, dives deep into the true nature of consciousness, the limits of traditional physics, and the emergence of meaning in our increasingly fractured world. From psychedelic dimensions and the “transcendental multiverse” to the hidden role of identity in societal collapse, Dr. Glattfelder explores: - Why modern physics hits a wall when explaining consciousness, and why the pendulum is swinging back toward spiritual and philosophical truth - Whether alien contact during DMT trips is actually us tapping into a wider field of consciousness - Why he believes we live in a transcendental multiverse, and how you can train yourself to explore it - His personal experiences with psychedelics, and why he thinks they should be a last resort for accessing higher states - Natural ways to stimulate DMT production without substances - Potential mental health benefits of THC - Alternative modalities that lead to non-dual states and expanded awareness - Dangers of cosmic nihilism in today's spiritual seeking - Why identity is at the root of our collective dysfunction - Whether everyone should have access to higher consciousness, or if it's best left to the few - Why exploring your consciousness has the radical power to transform your life - Delicate balance between intuition, metaphysical signs, and grounded presence - Neuroscience vs philosophy: Why brain damage sometimes unlocks new genius abilities - How religion served humanity before it was weaponized, and what's next - Why we suffer, even if there's a loving intelligence behind everything - The real cure for our crisis of meaning? A return to re-enchantment with reality - Why so many plants have psychedelic properties, and what that says about consciousness itself This conversation will shake the foundations of what you believe is real! Dr. James B. Glattfelder's latest book, The Sapient Cosmos: What A Modern-Day Synthesis of Science and Philosophy Teaches Us About the Emergence Of Information, Consciousness, and Meaning: https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com/essentia-books/our-books/sapient-cosmos Follow us on Substack for Exclusive Bonus Content: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://bialikbreakdown.substack.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠BialikBreakdown.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube.com/mayimbialik⁠⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this episode, we explore the debates surrounding humor in the workplace, based on a thought-provoking article from The Conversation. While humor can enhance your image as confident and competent, missteps might damage your credibility. Learn about the two major ingredients of a successful workplace joke and why even seemingly innocent humor can backfire. We also discuss the additional challenges women face with humor in the workplace. Tune in to understand why, in most cases, the risks might just outweigh the rewards.

In this encore episode of Down the Garden Path, Joanne discusses how to extend the blooming season in your garden by adding asters. Topics covered in this week's episode: Gardens don't have to stop blooming in September. We can extend the season to October and November. It's very important to have because the pollinators still need something blooming. There are over 30 different species of asters. They have a huge variety of growing conditions, so there is an aster for whatever challenging growing condition you have. Here are the five asters discussed: New England Aster, Symphyotrichum nova-angliae The showiest, and likely the one you're most familiar with Native to most U.S. states and provinces It is large and very showy, with a bright, cozy blue flower with a yellow centre The leaves on the stem are densely arranged on the stem Prefer soil moist and they can grow in part shade One of the larger varieties: up to six feet tall Whitewood Aster Eurybia divaricata Delicate looking flowers Grows in dry shade which means it makes a wonderful addition to the shade garden Not super showy like most shade plants Found in Ontario in dry, deciduous forests So that's exactly what we want in our garden. If you have maple trees, pine trees, or something like that where the soil underneath is very dry and it's very shady, then this is something worth giving a try to Only gets two to three feet tall Smooth Aster Symphyotrichum laeve Similar to the New England Aster, it has leaves that are very smooth, lavender and blue Has a daisy-type flower with a yellow centre Blooms from August to October A huge pollinator for butterflies and a larvae host for the pearl crescent butterfly Heart leaf Aster Symphyotrichum cordifolium Lavender to light blue It is one of the latest ones to bloom and actually goes into November An excellent pollinator for butterflies and bees at late in the season Spreads slowly by rhizomes and it lightly self-seeds Two to three feet tall, sandy to loam soil, and part shade to full shade Panicled Aster Symphyotrichum lanceolatum This one blooms with sprays of white flowers, open spreading form, so also known as floppy Best grown with other plants to kind of support it If you already have a native garden, or if you're planting a native garden with other large tall plants, then this could be an addition if you want that Prefers moist soil, but it likes full sun You can purchase seeds from Wildflower Farm and you can again, sprinkle them or plant them in your garden this fall You can also start them like you normally would do if you wanted them to grow in February/March under lights and go through that type of thing indoors and then put them out next year Resources Mentioned in the Show: Down the Garden Path: A Step-By-Step Guide to Your Ontario Garden Fall Mums and Asters Are you a landscape or gardening expert? We'd love to have you on the show! Click here to learn more. Find Down the Garden Path on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube: @downthegardenpathpodcast. Down the Garden Path Podcast On Down The Garden Path, professional landscape designer Joanne Shaw discusses down-to-earth tips and advice for your plants, gardens and landscapes. As the owner of Down2Earth Landscape Design, Joanne Shaw has been designing beautiful gardens for homeowners east of Toronto for over a decade. She does her best to bring you interesting, relevant and useful topics to help you keep your garden as low-maintenance as possible.  In Down the Garden Path: A Step-By-Step Guide to Your Ontario Garden, Joanne and fellow landscape designer Matthew Dressing distill their horticultural and design expertise and their combined experiences in helping others create and maintain thriving gardens into one easy-to-read monthly reference guide. Get your copy today on Amazon. Don't forget to check out Down the Garden Path on your favourite podcast app and subscribe! You can now catch the podcast on YouTube.

The environment within the cabin of a sleeper train is, well, unusual. Quite contradictory. It feels empty when you first step in, but full seconds later. It has a dead quiet feel, whilst also being noisy. It affords little physical space to move about in, yet anything you accidentally drop ends up out of reach. It would feel claustrophobic too if it weren't also strangely spatial when the lights are out. It has bareness and simplicity that somehow affords comfort. And the cabin often rocks about, as do you. The sound-feel within the cabin is unusual too. To start with there's rumble. Rumblings that roll constantly while the train is in motion. Sudden low frequency thuds and judders, as the carriages roll over joints and points in the track. There are regular pressure bumps in the internal air caused by trains passing close by in the opposite direction, and multiple strong humming sounds from the air conditioning and electric motors operating the train. Delicate sounds too. Tiny creaks and subtle shiftings in the fabrics and panelling that line the cabin, especially the ceiling which is made of flexible sound-absorbing slats.  To be conducive to sleep you'd have thought the cabin ideally needs none of this. Yet there is  an intense stillness. And during your considerable time in the cabin, twelve hours and more, these aural qualities interact, and form into their own rhythms. The mental chemistry of it all reacts to produce soporific calm. Set against my knees (as I slept) and the side wall of the cabin, with no inches to spare and bed clothes pushed up all around which would normally scupper any spatial recording, the Lento box recorded as the "night" began. Sleeping on a sleeper train is not like any normal night of course. The whole world around you is moving, rocking, as is everything in the soundscape. And yet you get your head into the comfortable hinged pillow (the back half goes up forming a bump protector) and you enter into a long aurally enhanced doze, that may, if you are lucky, become proper sleep.  Listening back the Lento box captured a true impression of being in a sleeper train cabin. Including occasional bed covers shifting and one of us popping out of the cabin briefly which is all part and parcel of the sound experience. This passage of time is somewhere between 3am and 4am. The train is speeding steadily across France, passing through lamplit towns and cities as it rolls on through the night. (It's hard to resist sleeping with the window blind part rolled up so you can witness these truly marvellous scenes.) The journey on this SNCF service is over 850km, departing Cerbere station on the extreme southern coast of France at 1850hrs, arriving Paris Gare d'Austerlitz at breakfast time the next morning.

Stealthing, the removal of a condom during sex without a partner's knowledge or consent, has in recent years become a criminal offence in almost all parts of Australia. But experts say there is still a lack of awareness about what stealthing is and the dangers it poses.

1 Better is the poor who walks in his integrity than he who is perverse in his lips and is a fool. 2 It isn't good to have zeal without knowledge, nor being hasty with one's feet and missing the way. 3 The foolishness of man subverts his way; his heart rages against Yahweh. 4 Wealth adds many friends, but the poor is separated from his friend. 5 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who pours out lies shall not go free. 6 Many will entreat the favor of a ruler, and everyone is a friend to a man who gives gifts. 7 All the relatives of the poor shun him; how much more do his friends avoid him! He pursues them with pleas, but they are gone. 8 He who gets wisdom loves his own soul. He who keeps understanding shall find good. 9 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who utters lies shall perish. 10 Delicate living is not appropriate for a fool, much less for a servant to have rule over princes. 11 The discretion of a man makes him slow to anger. It is his glory to overlook an offense. 12 The king's wrath is like the roaring of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass. 13 A foolish son is the calamity of his father. A wife's quarrels are a continual dripping. 14 House and riches are an inheritance from fathers, but a prudent wife is from Yahweh. 15 Slothfulness casts into a deep sleep. The idle soul shall suffer hunger. 16 He who keeps the commandment keeps his soul, but he who is contemptuous in his ways shall die. 17 He who has pity on the poor lends to Yahweh; he will reward him. 18 Discipline your son, for there is hope; don't be a willing party to his death. 19 A hot-tempered man must pay the penalty, for if you rescue him, you must do it again. 20 Listen to counsel and receive instruction, that you may be wise in your latter end. 21 There are many plans in a man's heart, but Yahweh's counsel will prevail. 22 That which makes a man to be desired is his kindness. A poor man is better than a liar. 23 The fear of Yahweh leads to life, then contentment; he rests and will not be touched by trouble. 24 The sluggard buries his hand in the dish; he will not so much as bring it to his mouth again. 25 Flog a scoffer, and the simple will learn prudence; rebuke one who has understanding, and he will gain knowledge. 26 He who robs his father and drives away his mother is a son who causes shame and brings reproach. 27 If you stop listening to instruction, my son, you will stray from the words of knowledge. 28 A corrupt witness mocks justice, and the mouth of the wicked gulps down iniquity. 29 Penalties are prepared for scoffers, and beatings for the backs of fools. Listen Donate Subscribe: Proverbs Daily Podcast Psalms Daily Podcast

Today, the Spotlight shines On composer and pianist Robin Holcomb and cellist Peggy Lee.These two musicians have been creating music together for the better part of two decades. Their new album, Reno, out September 12, captures something rare: the kind of musical conversation that happens when two artists know each other's musical language inside and out. Robin's songs draw from American folk traditions while her piano work moves into territories that feel both classical and completely free. Peggy brings a cello sound that's equally at home with composed melodies and total improvisation.Their collaboration encompasses everything from Robin's early song cycles about utopian communities in the Pacific Northwest to pieces that came from her work on the Donner Party saga. It's music that's hard to categorize, which makes it all the more worth your time.This conversation in the Fall of 2024, off-hours and in person at Seattle music venue The Royal Room.(The musical excerpts heard in the interview are from Robin Holcomb and Peggy Lee's album Reno)–Dig DeeperVisit Robin Holcomb at robinholcomb.com and follow her on Instagram and FacebookVisit cellist Peggy Lee onlinePurchase Robin Holcomb and Peggy Lee's Reno from Songlines or Qobuz, and listen on your streaming platform of choice.Wayne Horvitz - Robin's partner, frequent collaborator, and producer of RenoDig into this episode's complete show notes at spotlightonpodcast.com–• Did you enjoy this episode? Please share it with a friend! You can also rate Spotlight On ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ and leave a review on Apple Podcasts.• Subscribe! Be the first to check out each new episode of Spotlight On in your podcast app of choice.• Looking for more? Visit spotlightonpodcast.com for bonus content, web-only interviews + features, and the Spotlight On email newsletter. You can also follow us on Bluesky, Mastodon, YouTube, and LinkedIn.• Be sure to bookmark our online magazine, The Tonearm! → thetonearm.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Today, the Spotlight shines On composer and pianist Robin Holcomb and cellist Peggy Lee.These two musicians have been creating music together for the better part of two decades. Their new album, Reno, out September 12, captures something rare: the kind of musical conversation that happens when two artists know each other's musical language inside and out. Robin's songs draw from American folk traditions while her piano work moves into territories that feel both classical and completely free. Peggy brings a cello sound that's equally at home with composed melodies and total improvisation.Their collaboration encompasses everything from Robin's early song cycles about utopian communities in the Pacific Northwest to pieces that came from her work on the Donner Party saga. It's music that's hard to categorize, which makes it all the more worth your time.This conversation in the Fall of 2024, off-hours and in person at Seattle music venue The Royal Room.(The musical excerpts heard in the interview are from Robin Holcomb and Peggy Lee's album Reno)–Dig DeeperVisit Robin Holcomb at robinholcomb.com and follow her on Instagram and FacebookVisit cellist Peggy Lee onlinePurchase Robin Holcomb and Peggy Lee's Reno from Songlines or Qobuz, and listen on your streaming platform of choice.Wayne Horvitz - Robin's partner, frequent collaborator, and producer of RenoDig into this episode's complete show notes at spotlightonpodcast.com–• Did you enjoy this episode? Please share it with a friend! You can also rate Spotlight On ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ and leave a review on Apple Podcasts.• Subscribe! Be the first to check out each new episode of Spotlight On in your podcast app of choice.• Looking for more? Visit spotlightonpodcast.com for bonus content, web-only interviews + features, and the Spotlight On email newsletter. You can also follow us on Bluesky, Mastodon, YouTube, and LinkedIn.• Be sure to bookmark our online magazine, The Tonearm! → thetonearm.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Nolan Consulting Group Coach, Eamon Lynch shares lessons from scaling operations at a billion-dollar remodeling company and applying those systems to smaller trades businesses. From bay window sales gone wrong to the critical handoffs between sales and operations, Eamon breaks down why "we say a lot of things" isn't good enough and how to build accountability that scales. Learn his approach to cross-departmental meetings and the communication strategies that turn chaos into consistent growth.

A Delicate balance of Afro House, Soulful House, Deep House & Classic House mixed together in one big pot. ⚡️Like the Show? Click the [Repost] ↻ button so more people can hear it!

Chris and Lacy dive into the legacy and evolution of Delicate Productions—spotlighting its groundbreaking work, recent partnership with the Live Events network, and its ongoing influence on live event technology. Listen for behind-the-scenes stories, historic client highlights, and what makes this powerhouse team stand apart in the modern production landscape.Chris and Lacy also welcome Delicate Productions as Geezers Of Gear Podcasts newest sponsor. #Podcast #DelicateProductions #Sponsor #FutureTech #AI #AIPodcast

It's back-to-school season and illness is in the air! Kris returns from her deathbed with tales of the flu (definitely NOT a recommendation) and Tara encounters her first COVID romance (which is a recommendation). Kris lays out tips for eBay seller success and Tara discusses her reaction to James Dobson's death as an ex-Evangelical (TL;DR: fuck that guy).  Official Recommendations  From Kris: Giant Little Ones (2018) Kris's official recommendation this week is Giant Little Ones (2018). It's a film about two high school boys who are teenage royalty and adored by the girls, whose lives are changed during an epic 17th birthday party. According to Kris, this story is full of drama, reminding her of how awful those teenage years are. There is some violence against gay people in this movie, but Kris still thinks the quality and the story are worth the discomfort if you're able. From Tara: Make or Break by E. J. Noyes Tara's official recommendation this week is Make or Break by E. J. Noyes. It's a sapphic romance novel that takes place on the set of a police drama between one of the leading actors and the key makeup artist. They've each had a crush on the other for years, but never knew if their crushes were returned. Tara says this one is a gentle romance with excellent character arcs. Works/People Discussed K-Pop Demon Hunters (2025) Alone (History Channel) Alone Australia (SBS) Hightown (STARZ) Hostage (Netflix) Great Canadian Baking Show (CBC) Somebody Feed Phil (Netflix) Forever Theirs by Anna Stone (Mistress, book 3) Guarded Desires by Anna Stone (Mistress, book 4) Sweet, Spicy, Delicate by Allison Ashton Who We Could Be by Chelsea M. Cameron Support & follow the show Buy us a Ko-fi Facebook Instagram Threads  Bluesky TikTok YouTube  Get all our links on Linktr.ee

Legends of Godiva: Part 5Surviving a Viking camp is not easy.Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought in 5 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Godgifu found Cnut sitting by the stream, absentmindedly throwing rocks into it with a sour look on his face. She walked to his side and rested her hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry;" she said quietly."Why the Pindsvin sorry?" Cnut said quietly, "Afraid of Cnut the beast? Think he cut off the Pindsvin face for arguing with Cnut? You think easy? Be king to three countries?""And some of Sweden;" Godgifu added. "No; I don't. Half the time I can't deal with Coventry, much less Mercia. No; I meant I was sorry for assuming the worst about you. I only knew about you from stories told by people angry and hurting about what they had lost in war. After all that, I didn't even want you to be a man, much less one who's; well, goofy and likeable," she said, sitting down next to him."Not likeable. The Emma; she not like Cnut," he said with tired resignation."Look, if you say another woman's name during sex, of course she's going to be mad;""No. The Pindsvin not understand. The Emma not mad. The Emma not like Cnut. The Leofric say 'everyone like Cnut,' but the Emma; no," he said, throwing a pebble into the water."Well, what have you given her to like?" Godgifu asked, pulling a blade of grass out of the ground and putting it between her thumbs and blowing, making a loud screeching squawk sound. "What I mean is, you were in Coventry just a couple hours, and you got Sir Hulgar to like you; and he doesn't like anybody," she said, bumping his elbow with her shoulder."We play dice;""So, you spent some time with him, doing something he likes to do? Okay; when do you spend time with Emma?""Cnut king of three countries; spending time difficult. Give her good fuck. She even make the squirrel sound with good fuck, but then turn away after. Not talk. Not make the spoons. Just take the candle and the feather and scratches the paper with the ink and cries. The Emma not happy, not like Cnut. Maybe she think Cnut beast, too.""So, now you're going to Torksey so Leofric can tell her that, despite you saying Aelfgifu's name during sex, you're not fucking her anymore? Your plan is to prove the Emma's wrong to be upset and that you're right?" Godgifu asked."Yes. Tell her Cnut is right, good husband;" he said, his voice trailing off until he sighed heavily. "This; not good plan.""Nope. Telling us we're emotional and wrong about feeling something is pretty much going to go very badly for you every single time. You know what's a good idea?" she asked. Cnut glanced over at her uneasily. "Bringing me along with you," she finished."The Leofric; he not like this idea. The Pindsvin is small; break easy," he said, throwing a larger stone into the water."Yes, and the Leofric also won't tell you when you have bad ideas. I will. Bring me along, keep me safe somewhere and I'll help you win over the Emma. No problem. Everything fine," Godgifu said, imitating him and earning a scowl from Cnut."Pindsvin; you know Cnut not think 'everything fine' when he say 'everything fine,'" he admitted."Yes, Sire. Leofric knows, too. He just won't tell you so. He's too nice. He'll just help you anyway and probably get himself killed. Then, you would have an even bigger problem than no Emma," Godgifu said."What problem then?""Me.""Ah," Cnut said. Then, he stood and slowly pulled his tunic up and over his head, revealing a tanned and toned torso, bulging with muscles, so ridiculously gorgeous and perfect that Godgifu started laughing aloud. Knowing exactly the affect he had on her, Cnut grinned, threw his tunic at her, shucked his pants, and waded into the water to wash himself."Leofric! Help! I need to come again!" Godgifu laughingly yelled through the trees, watching Cnut bathe."Dammit woman, I'm currying Harold!" Leofric yelled back. "What happened? You were just supposed to apologize, for God's sake!""I am Cnut!" the King announced in explanation, causing Godgifu to burst into giggles. "Leofric! The Pindsvin comes with us to Torksey! Help us to win the Emma!" he yelled."What?" Leofric said, quickly running into the clearing. "Sire, that's; that's not; I mean; perhaps we should consider; it might not be;""The Pindsvin come! I am Cnut!""Don't I get a say in any of this, Sire?""See, I told you," Godgifu said, gesturing to Leofric. "He's too nice. You need me." She stood and pulled Leofric's tunic over her head and threw it down at his feet."Well, why does he need you?" Leofric asked, exasperated."I am Pindsvin!" she yelled happily, running naked into the water.Cnut, Leofric and Godgifu scouted the camp at Torksey, a fertile swath of land close to the banks of the River Trent. Numerous shelters and lodges lined the rough paths of the Vikings' army's winter home. Smoke came up in several places, no doubt from fires stoked by metalworkers that were melting down items stolen from England's holy places.Much to their surprise, there was also a small, but steady, stream of people approaching the camp. Cnut explained that it was known that many English towns nearby did business with the winter camp, but he never heard tell of numbers that would explain what they saw today. Everyone funneled toward a single entry point, where they would relinquish their weapons, submit to inquiries, and hand over a sum of money or goods before being allowed into the camp.Godgifu whispered to the two men crouched over where she lay behind the bush, "All right, so the plan is, I get in line, go in there and tell them I am a maid you sent to Emma, and then I talk with her and try to get her out of there;""No. That is not the plan. You're staying safe here at the ca;" Leofric said, frowning down at her, only to be interrupted by the King.Cnut grunted in agreement. "Yes. Plan very good. And the Pindsvin not say about when Cnut spray seed on numsen;"Godgifu looked over her other shoulder to Cnut and rolled her eyes, "Why on Earth would you think I'd tell her about you coming on my ass? Honestly; you think that we'd just be chatting about court or hairstyles and I'd just blurt out 'Oh, by the way;""No. You won't be chatting with anyone about anything because you will be here;" Leofric said, tugging her braid to turn her head toward him. Godgifu tugged her braid out of his hand, turned back to the King and raised her eyebrows, waiting for the answer to her question.Cnut held up a hand, effectively covering Godgifu's entire face, "Cnut knows the women. They get together. They say all the things," he said darkly.Leofric growled in frustration, "Diva, stop ignoring me. That is a Viking camp. Do you have any idea what they do to people, much less to someone like you?"Godgifu clenched her jaw and shook her head, "Leofric, you know I should be the one to go. I speak the language and I'm not, well; you two. If you two go and they recognized Cnut in there, they might hold him hostage and there's not a lot of people in the Witengamot that would pay to get him out. You can't go because you look exactly like every guy that's been fighting them all this time and they'd probably kill you on sight. Nobody ever worries about me because I look like a little;""Pindsvin; hedgehog, yes," Cnut said absently, patting the top of her head while squinting at the line of men entering the camp."So; what do I tell her to get her to leave?" Godgifu asked, worriedly watching Leofric rise angrily and stalk back to their camp."Tell her Cnut is here," he said, shrugging as if saying the obvious.Godgifu snorted and rolled her eyes, "Well, why would that make her leave the camp? You go off to another country after saying the wrong name when you were having sex and all of a sudden she's supposed to jump for joy when she gets a summons from you? No. You need to soften her up a bit. Be nice. Remind her of the good times. Like, what did you say when you asked her to marry you?""Not ask. Treaty. Treaty say 'Marry Cnut and promise not kill the Emma's Aethelred children. Send them to France. Not-dead children love France. Chalk cliffs. Good cheese. Everything fine.""Oh, dear God, you've really been leaning hard on this good-looking thing, haven't you?" Godgifu grumbled under her breath."I am Cnut;" he said, shrugging."Yeah, you are Cnut; and the Cnut is handsome. But, you know what? If you want to stay married and be a good king, you've gotta work harder than that. You've had it easy because you're tall, gorgeous, rich and powerful. Problem is, you're no longer trying to get a woman to bed, now. You're trying to make your wife happy and that's a completely different thing. A woman might get stupid once or twice about a handsome man, but unless you build more than that, she'll only hate herself more and more every time she gives in to you. Orgasms only make you happy for so long. Not-dead children living in another country aren't a good basis for a marriage, either. It doesn't give you a lot to talk about. I wish Leofric didn't hate the idea of it so much. He would know what to say," Godgifu said, glancing back to the grove of trees where Leofric had disappeared.Cnut grunted, "The Leofric has good words. Good words; ugly face.""Shut up!" she said, slapping his shoulder, "He's not ugly! He's just bruised. Don't be a jerk!""Why the small women always smæk big men?" grumbled Cnut scowling and rubbing his shoulder. "What Leofric say to win grumpy Pindsvin?" he asked.Godgifu thought for a while and smiled, shaking her head, "Not a thing, actually. In a situation where most people would have said a whole bunch of wrong things, Leofric just stayed quiet and close and invited me choose whether to talk to him; and it made me want to. He red me perfectly. That's what you need to do. Emma needs you to notice her, to enjoy her; to see what makes her happy." Godgifu sighed, looking up the trees to where Leofric had disappeared in the distance. She hated to do this. She wished there was another way."So, what makes the Emma happy?" she asked, poking Cnut in the hip with her elbow to draw his attention away from the camp.Instead of looking down at her, he kept his eyes fixed on the rough looking camp and sighed. "Not Cnut," he answered simply."Well, fine. I'll talk with her and get her to you, but just think about what I said, because making this woman happy just became your biggest challenge," Godgifu said.Cnut grunted in agreement and handed her a small pack, strapping it on her back and across her front in a way that seemed odd, yet comfortable. Looking back to the camp, she squared her shoulders, trying to be braver than she felt. "Okay;" she said, coughing to cover for her throat tightening in fear, "I'll come back as soon as I can. Tell Leofric; tell him; you know;" she said, wiping away the tears that started falling down her cheeks.Steeling herself, Godgifu started off for the Viking camp, but found her progress hindered when her feet left the ground. "What are you doing?" she squawked, as Cnut lifted her over his shoulder by her waistband and returned to the grove where Leofric had gone."The Leofric ready?" Cnut said, casually hanging Godgifu's kicking and squirming body from a branch on the tree and securing the strap around it that he had wrapped around her body under the guise of securing her pack.Leofric turned from Harold to Cnut, his face a mask of confused relief. "She's; not going then?""Pindsvin easy to catch when think she get her way. You not know this? Why work so hard?" Cnut said, casually ducking as Godgifu's foot grazed his ear. "She watch from here. Know her Leofric safe."Leofric nodded, glad Cnut couldn't see the fury in Godgifu's eyes. Leaning in and hoping she didn't take a bite out of him, he murmured, "Watch us. If anything goes wrong or if we don't come back by morning, go back to Coventry and tell Sir Hulgar what has happened. Tell no one who supports the Witengamot, just Sir Hulgar," he said, brushing Godgifu's hair back behind her ear."How am I supposed to do that? Loosen these straps. Cut me free. He's tied me up here like I'm going to be spit roasted," she hissed."How is it that treason is always the answer to every problem you come across? After we're gone, use the knife you're trying to wriggle out of your sleeve. You'll be free in 20 minutes. Now, give me a kiss for luck;" he whispered. Godgifu's lips trembled, unshed tears filling her eyes. Finally, she nodded and lifted her face to his. Expecting trouble, Leofric pecked her lips quickly and just barely dodged a head-butt from his future wife.With a glare of annoyance, Leofric reached behind her and pulled the hidden knife out of her sleeve, throwing it to the ground out of reach. Then, purposefully, he ran his hands over every inch of her body, removing three more weapons before he finished with her. "You come back," she said, wriggling against her bindings. "You come back, Leofric, or so help me I'll; I'll do the most dangerous thing I can think of; and then I'll keep doing dangerous things until I can join you again," she vowed.Leofric only smiled, took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly, coaxing her lips with his until he felt her soften and kiss him back. "What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, smiling and pressing his forehead to hers."The Leofric was punishment for the Pindsvin tax debt! Come!" Cnut shouted, starting down the hill toward the camp. Leofric sighed, kissed Godgifu one last time, and took off to join the King.Godgifu watched the two men stride downhill and join the line of people waiting to enter the camp, slipping a length of thick wire out of the cuff of her tunic, careful to avoid the serrated edge carved into one side and began sawing away at the leather straps binding her to the tree. Her eyes never moved from the two men casually joining the line of men waiting to join the camp, trying to read their body language, drawing any possible meaning from the slightest gesture.Just as the men reached the front of the line, Godgifu cut through her bindings and climbed onto the branch to which she had been bound. When it was their turn to enter, Cnut spoke briefly to the guards. Then, he nodded to Leofric, who reached into his pack for a pouch; probably the money they were charging for admittance to the camp. Leofric handed the pouch to Cnut who passed it over to the guards. They were in! It was working!Then, Leofric turned toward her, his face lit up by the golden setting sun, and smiled. Godgifu almost raised a hand to wave to him; and then he sneezed. Leofric had done nothing more exciting than sneeze, when suddenly, as Godgifu watched in horror, the guards started shouting and sacks were thrown over both Leofric and Cnut's heads as the men protested, their hands were bound behind them, and they were dragged away kicking and struggling."Watch us. If anything goes wrong or if we don't come back by morning, go back to Coventry and tell Sir Hulgar what has happened;" Leofric's parting words echoed in Godgifu's mind. She had no intention whatsoever of heeding them, but having his voice with her was a comfort as she crept through the darkness around the edges of the Viking camp.Godgifu was accustomed to sneaking around unseen. After years of sneaking out of the castle, past servants and Sir Hulgar's watchful eye to rid herself of the veils she had to wear and put on the comfortable dress that she wore as Lady Godiva, she could easily melt into shadows or walk through lit places and be mistaken as someone else. These skills served her well as she prowled the cold marshes surrounding the encampment, watching and learning.She had seen the men drag Leofric and Cnut toward an area where numerous boats had been pulled onto the land and prepared for wintering. Had they been killed? Why would they have been brought to such a place? It didn't look like anyone spent much time out here with the boats. Most of the camp's population preferred the warmer areas where the metalworkers' fires burned. After searching the boat area, the only thing she saw was a disgruntled man arguing with himself as he carved a knife handle out of a piece of bone.Frustrated, Godgifu took to watching the occupants of the camp instead. Most of the men were engaged in some form of metalworking. Some were sorting pillaged items according to their metal into piles, where they would be moved to different areas of the camp to be broken into pieces and melted into coins or ingots by the ever-burning fires. Slaves were everywhere. Mostly boys and young men, though there were some women, as well. The most menial tasks were reserved for the male slaves: feeding the fires, carrying non-precious items around. The female thralls were most often seen sewing or cooking food, when they weren't regularly being pulled into a shelter to service one of the Vikings.From what Godgifu could tell, when they weren't counting their plunder or forcing themselves on their slaves, the Vikings mostly argued with each other. It appeared the camp was made up of several disparate groups of Vikings from different areas in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. The languages were all somewhat similar, and because Godgifu spoke Danish, she was able to understand most of what they were saying. As for why they were arguing, it was surprising how petty it all was.Apparently two enormous blonde men, Hafdan and Gorm, were at odds because Hafdan used Gorm's favorite cup without permission and dented it when Hafdan came to blows with Toke over the proper lyrics to the song "Orm's Bloody Stump." After knocking Toke unconscious with the cup, Hafdan won the argument, but sadly the exceptional cup was irreparably damaged, in Gorm's view.Skarde told anyone that would listen that Leif's campsite was encroaching on his campsite. He ended his rants by pointing to a large rock marker he had placed at the border between the two shelters, promising that anyone who dared to touch it would be smelted along with the copper. Godgifu also saw Leif emerge and nudge the rock over a touch when Skarde had gone back inside his tent.Bjorn was despondent after burning half his beard away while playing a smelting prank on Balder. Apparently, the smelting prank involved a comical explosion of sorts, which killed Balder's favorite bed slave, as well as leaving half of Bjorn's beard charred away. Balder was insisting that Bjorn pay for the loss of his bed slave, and Bjorn was insisting that Balder should cut off half of his own beard first. Balder, for his part, did not appreciate Bjorn's logic.Most of all, the Torksey Vikings argued about something called "hnefatafl." Godgifu didn't understand the word, but it appeared it was a game involving many pieces on a board. It seemed to be like chess, but with one player starting with their pieces clustered in the middle of the board and the other player's pieces surrounding them.Godgifu learned that the Torksey camp was having a hnefatafl tournament, which explained the steady stream of people entering the camp after paying a fee. What she also gathered was that the tournament was not going well. Apparently, all the Viking groups that populated Torksey had different rules for playing hnefatafl, and because there was no recognized leadership among the different groups, the tournament that was likely intended as an enjoyable diversion for the colder weather had mounted quite the death toll amongst them. Indeed, it was rare that two Vikings of different bands would sit down at a hnefatafl board and it wouldn't end in blows or bloodshed.None of this explained why Leofric and Cnut were bagged and dragged away at the main entrance to the camp, but Godgifu hoped that an explanation and news of their welfare would come in time. Considering that the Vikings had no problems with maiming or striking each other dead for the slightest infractions, the fact that Leofric and Cnut were not killed immediately was actually encouraging. Godgifu had no doubt that if the Vikings wanted them dead, Leofric and Cnut would be dead.It was in a tent-like shelter on the outskirts of the camp that Godgifu found Queen Emma. Unlike the other shelters, it appeared somewhat cleaner and even more telling were the cracks of light between the walls of the tent by someone using candles inside. Gathering her courage, Godgifu waited until she would not be seen, and then crept up to the opening in the tent, where a soft voice could be heard muttering English in a vaguely French accent. "He roughly clasped her slender frame in his manly arms, shocking her untested virtue with the passionate, throbbing heat of his turgid;""Um; my Lady?" Godgifu whispered loudly.The voice fell silent, the occupant obviously pretending that no one was there. Godgifu would have found the situation amusing, if it weren't also so serious. "My Lady, I need to speak with you," she pressed.Silence."My Lad

Steve discusses with Ray their perspectives on the upcoming Fed and ECB meetings in September. They share insights and recommendations for the equities and bond markets, while also addressing the outlook for the USD and gold. Find out more from our latest Global Market Outlook report here.Speakers:- Steve Brice, Global Chief Investment Officer, Standard Chartered Bank- Ray Heung, Senior Investment Strategist, Standard Chartered Bank

The time has finally come. In what was initially slated to be our Season 5 premiere (pre “Showgirl” era), your hosts at long last return to The Muses miniseries to kick off the story of Joe Alwyn! In this highly anticipated episode, Olivia & Dani take you through the beginnings of Joe & Taylor's lengthy relationship. Where did they meet? When did it become official? Did Taylor cheat? What moments from this time inspired specific songs in Taylor's discography? We go through all of that and more during this hefty return to your regularly scheduled Taylearning programming! Subscribe to our new Patreon for behind the scenes content, citations, videos, live streams, and more! Head to our website, www.TaylearningPodcast.com/merch, and get yourself some new wearable merch! Calvin Harris Episode & Tom Hiddleston Episode Instagram: @Taylearning_Podcast, @danielle_winchester, @olivia_kotarski TikTok/Bluesky: @TaylearningPodcast Twitter (X): @Taylearning Email: taylearningpodcast@gmail.com Website: www.TaylearningPodcast.com Spotify Playlist: Click here! *Explicit: Language, Sexual References

In this episode, Jordan Grotzinger and Gregory Bombard discuss the Ninth Circuit's recent decision impacting the most litigated issue in trade secret cases – trade secret identification. 

1 Better is the poor who walks in his integrity than he who is perverse in his lips and is a fool. 2 It isn't good to have zeal without knowledge, nor being hasty with one's feet and missing the way. 3 The foolishness of man subverts his way; his heart rages against Yahweh. 4 Wealth adds many friends, but the poor is separated from his friend. 5 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who pours out lies shall not go free. 6 Many will entreat the favor of a ruler, and everyone is a friend to a man who gives gifts. 7 All the relatives of the poor shun him; how much more do his friends avoid him! He pursues them with pleas, but they are gone. 8 He who gets wisdom loves his own soul. He who keeps understanding shall find good. 9 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who utters lies shall perish. 10 Delicate living is not appropriate for a fool, much less for a servant to have rule over princes. 11 The discretion of a man makes him slow to anger. It is his glory to overlook an offense. 12 The king's wrath is like the roaring of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass. 13 A foolish son is the calamity of his father. A wife's quarrels are a continual dripping. 14 House and riches are an inheritance from fathers, but a prudent wife is from Yahweh. 15 Slothfulness casts into a deep sleep. The idle soul shall suffer hunger. 16 He who keeps the commandment keeps his soul, but he who is contemptuous in his ways shall die. 17 He who has pity on the poor lends to Yahweh; he will reward him. 18 Discipline your son, for there is hope; don't be a willing party to his death. 19 A hot-tempered man must pay the penalty, for if you rescue him, you must do it again. 20 Listen to counsel and receive instruction, that you may be wise in your latter end. 21 There are many plans in a man's heart, but Yahweh's counsel will prevail. 22 That which makes a man to be desired is his kindness. A poor man is better than a liar. 23 The fear of Yahweh leads to life, then contentment; he rests and will not be touched by trouble. 24 The sluggard buries his hand in the dish; he will not so much as bring it to his mouth again. 25 Flog a scoffer, and the simple will learn prudence; rebuke one who has understanding, and he will gain knowledge. 26 He who robs his father and drives away his mother is a son who causes shame and brings reproach. 27 If you stop listening to instruction, my son, you will stray from the words of knowledge. 28 A corrupt witness mocks justice, and the mouth of the wicked gulps down iniquity. 29 Penalties are prepared for scoffers, and beatings for the backs of fools. Listen Donate Subscribe: Proverbs Daily Podcast Psalms Daily Podcast

Guest: Dr. Bhavya Lal – Former NASA Chief Technologist, MIT-trained nuclear engineer, and architect of U.S. space nuclear policy.The Cosmic Scoop: Nuclear power's bad Earthly reputation hides its potential as a lifeline beyond our planet. Space is already radioactive—and if we want to stay and build on the Moon, Mars, or Europa, nuclear offers “power abundance” solar can't match. Dr. Lal explains why, covering tech, safety, law, history, and why the next space era may finally embrace it.Quotable Insights:“Solar lets you visit. Nuclear lets you stay and build.”“Without nuclear, we design for scarcity. With nuclear, we design for capability.”“Adding nuclear in space is like pouring water in a hurricane—it barely registers.”“We are entering an era of abundance.”Cosmic Timeline: [00:00:00] Nuclear perception problem [00:04:00] NASA's lunar reactor plan [00:06:40] Moon nights & Mars dust storms [00:08:10] Power abundance [00:11:20] Why it hasn't happened yet [00:16:50] Nuclear tech & propulsion [00:21:30] Voyager's RTGs [00:23:00] Solar limits [00:25:00] Soviet space reactors [00:28:00] Current development [00:32:00] Space vs. Earth reactors [00:36:00] Legal frameworks [00:38:00] Launch safety [00:42:00] Reputation & safety evolution [00:46:00] Why nuclear is inevitable [00:48:30] Europa's ice drills [00:50:40] The Great Filter [00:56:00] Project Orion [01:00:00] Music: ABBA – “Dancing Queen” [01:01:00] Inspiration: “Think of abundance”Links to Explore:NASA Fission Surface Power Project Space Policy Directive-6 (U.S.)Outer Space Treaty (1967)The Europa Report (film)Spread the Cosmic Love! If this conversation shifted your perspective on nuclear—or challenged what you thought you knew—share it with a friend, colleague, or fellow stargazer. Let's talk about the technologies that will power our next giant leap.Send us a textYou can find us on Spotify and Apple Podcast!Please visit us at SpaceWatch.Global, subscribe to our newsletters. Follow us on LinkedIn and Twitter!

Let your mind wander as I whisper unintelligible words and add soothing sounds to guide you into deep, peaceful relaxation. No need to understand just feel.

Send us a textThe moment arrives for every parent – watching your child transform from dependent teenager to independent adult. In this heartfelt conversation, we're joined by a special guest who offers a unique perspective on this pivotal transition from the young adult side of the equation.Cameron, a college student preparing for graduation and engaged to be married, shares candid insights about what truly helped him navigate the journey to independence. Rather than focusing on the moment of separation, he emphasizes how his successful transition resulted from years of gradual preparation – parents who allowed increasing autonomy while maintaining a reliable safety net of support.The conversation explores that delicate balance every parent struggles to find: providing enough freedom for growth while ensuring your child knows you're available when truly needed. As Cameron explains, knowing he was unconditionally supported gave him confidence to solve problems independently, navigate uncomfortable situations, and discover his authentic self away from home.For parents approaching this milestone, our discussion offers practical guidance on preparing teenagers for independence long before move-in day. We address the importance of transferring responsibility for everyday tasks, communicating expectations clearly, and acknowledging the emotional challenges parents face when their caretaking role fundamentally changes.Perhaps most reassuringly, we discuss how the parent-child relationship doesn't end but evolves into something potentially more rewarding – an adult friendship built on mutual respect. As one parent reflects, "To have an adult relationship with your kid is probably the greatest thing I didn't expect to happen."Whether you're years away from this transition or facing it imminently, this episode provides valuable perspective for nurturing independence while maintaining meaningful connection. Join us to discover how letting go might just be your greatest parenting achievement.Please be sure to checkout our website for previous episodes, our psych-approved resource page, and connect with us on social media! All this and more at www.thelylaspodcast.com

Gentle harp for relaxation, journeying, sleep and happiness. Feel the soft summer rain caressing your face. It feels like butterfly fairies dancing across your skin. Rain that heals. Rain that cools. Rain that loves. Open your arms and look up to the sky. ★ Support this podcast ★

Send Mary and Kelsey a Message!In this episode, Mary and Kelsey sit down with Grammy-award winner and visionary film and music video director Joseph Kahn. They discuss Joseph's new 2000s nostalgia-packed horror comedy movie “Ick” which hits theaters for a limited time July 27-29, how he became one of the most sought-after music video directors in the industry, and his work with with the world's biggest names in music including Backstreet Boys (Everybody, Larger Than Life, Incomplete), Britney Spears (Toxic, Stronger, Womanizer), Taylor Swift (Blank Space, Bad Blood, Wildest Dreams, Look What You Made Me Do, End Game, Delicate) and more. Find Ick showtimes near you at www.icktheflick.comFollow Joseph at @josephkahn on IGSupport the show Instagram: @whentheypoppedpodTikTok: @whentheypoppedpodEmail: whentheypoppedy2k@gmail.comWebsite: linktree.com/whentheypopped Subscribe to our Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=85610411

1 Better is the poor who walks in his integrity than he who is perverse in his lips and is a fool. 2 It isn't good to have zeal without knowledge, nor being hasty with one's feet and missing the way. 3 The foolishness of man subverts his way; his heart rages against Yahweh. 4 Wealth adds many friends, but the poor is separated from his friend. 5 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who pours out lies shall not go free. 6 Many will entreat the favor of a ruler, and everyone is a friend to a man who gives gifts. 7 All the relatives of the poor shun him; how much more do his friends avoid him! He pursues them with pleas, but they are gone. 8 He who gets wisdom loves his own soul. He who keeps understanding shall find good. 9 A false witness shall not be unpunished. He who utters lies shall perish. 10 Delicate living is not appropriate for a fool, much less for a servant to have rule over princes. 11 The discretion of a man makes him slow to anger. It is his glory to overlook an offense. 12 The king's wrath is like the roaring of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass. 13 A foolish son is the calamity of his father. A wife's quarrels are a continual dripping. 14 House and riches are an inheritance from fathers, but a prudent wife is from Yahweh. 15 Slothfulness casts into a deep sleep. The idle soul shall suffer hunger. 16 He who keeps the commandment keeps his soul, but he who is contemptuous in his ways shall die. 17 He who has pity on the poor lends to Yahweh; he will reward him. 18 Discipline your son, for there is hope; don't be a willing party to his death. 19 A hot-tempered man must pay the penalty, for if you rescue him, you must do it again. 20 Listen to counsel and receive instruction, that you may be wise in your latter end. 21 There are many plans in a man's heart, but Yahweh's counsel will prevail. 22 That which makes a man to be desired is his kindness. A poor man is better than a liar. 23 The fear of Yahweh leads to life, then contentment; he rests and will not be touched by trouble. 24 The sluggard buries his hand in the dish; he will not so much as bring it to his mouth again. 25 Flog a scoffer, and the simple will learn prudence; rebuke one who has understanding, and he will gain knowledge. 26 He who robs his father and drives away his mother is a son who causes shame and brings reproach. 27 If you stop listening to instruction, my son, you will stray from the words of knowledge. 28 A corrupt witness mocks justice, and the mouth of the wicked gulps down iniquity. 29 Penalties are prepared for scoffers, and beatings for the backs of fools. Listen Donate Subscribe: Proverbs Daily Podcast Psalms Daily Podcast

New Testament Reading 2 Corinthians 5:11-6:2

In the first of this summer's Little Gold Men book club series, David and Richard are joined by VF's Hillary Busis for a discussion of The History of Sound, the queer period romance starring Paul Mescal and Josh O'Connor and hitting theaters this September. The hosts discuss the original short story by Ben Shattuck, who also wrote the film adaptation, as well as the fascinating choices made in the shift from page to screen. Later, Shattuck joins the show to give us insights into his process writing two versions of this story, and where the inspiration came from.Our next Little Gold Men book club is Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell. We'll be discussing the novel and its upcoming film adaptation on our August 14 episode. Read along with us and send your questions to littlegoldmen@vf.com.  Learn about your ad choices: dovetail.prx.org/ad-choices

Get your cool ice picks and your space drugs and your sweet desert armor, because we're riding these tubes all the way to infinity, or at least until the screen saver starts again. Either way, I'm there. Internet reviews for frozen beef from Nebraska via Amazon, dealing with coupons at a highway-side Burger King, the work horses of the feet: socks, and busting a vacuum. For the segment, we go hard with Gorilla Mode Lightning Preworkout on My Precious Max. Tubular.Want more party? Check it out at https://www.reviewparydotcom.com/ !

Parshat Korah

 Parshat Shelakh 

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Join our Premium Sleep for Women Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Sleep podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here --> https://bit.ly/sleepforwomen  Join our Premium Meditation for Kids Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Kids podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here → https://bit.ly/meditationforkidsapple Hey, I'm so glad you're taking the time to be with us today. My team and I are dedicated to making sure you have all the meditations you need throughout all the seasons of your life.  If there's a meditation you desire, but can't find, email us at Katie Krimitsos to make a request. We'd love to create what you want!  Namaste, Beautiful,

Hawkwind You'd Better Believe It 7:07 Hall Of The Mountain Grill 1974 Deep Space Destructors Nymphaea Tetragona (Forever Floating) 5:49 Voyage to Innerspace 2023 Embryo Radio Marrakesh – Orient Express 9:35 Steig aus 1972 Farmacia Flor 2:29 PCT 17 – Ellas 2025 The Teardrop Phase The Shimmering in C Major 2:16 single 2025 Brian Eno […]

In this episode, we listen to a mother's lament, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Aganaanooru 17, penned by Kayamanaar. Set in the 'Paalai' or 'Drylands landscape', the verse echoes the thoughts of a mother at the juncture of her daughter's elopement.

In the second hour, DVD continues on the delicate dance of marketing for an NFL rookie starting qb's. 

Join Rabbi Joey Rosenfeld as he guides us through the world and major works of Kabbalah, Hasidic masters, and Jewish philosophy, shedding light on the inner life of the soul. To learn more, visit InwardTorah.org

Geoff, Gavin and Andrew talk about Geoff is back, long flight, So... Alright, Russian driver, a plane ride, bailey's on the rocks, mile high puke club, six saltines, puke preferences, friendly skies, Rizzler, Virtual Weapon, Andrew's Fall Guys haunting, Limbo, Call of Duty Modern Warfare, Geoff the anus guy, helium fart, saffron, ice cream pranks, rarity scale, Big Bounce again, Deep Impact, shockwaves, and exploding houses. Sponsored by Shady Rays. Thanks, Shady Rays. Get 35% off polarized glasses at shadyrays.com - code REGULATION. Support us directly at https://www.patreon.com/TheRegulationPod Stay up to date, get exclusive supplemental content, and connect with other Regulation Listeners. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices