Podcasts about Sundial

Send us a textWhat happens when you return to your hometown to make a movie about toxic masculinity set in a remote cabin? Filmmaker Max Kleiber reveals the fascinating journey behind his debut feature "Rattlin Bog" - a satirical horror-comedy born from a COVID-era short film experiment that evolved into something much bigger.Growing up in Northern California with no artists in his family, Kleiber initially pursued medicine before finally admitting his secret passion for filmmaking. After studying Communication (not Film) at Biola University and working various production jobs in Los Angeles, he made the strategic decision to shoot his feature in his hometown. The stunning Northern California landscapes provided million-dollar backdrops essentially for free, while community connections offered everything from locations to accommodations that would have been impossible to secure in LA.Kleiber's funding approach proves particularly illuminating for aspiring filmmakers. Using WeFunder, an equity crowdfunding platform, he enabled community members to become actual investors in his film for as little as $100 - transforming local doctors, lawyers, and everyday supporters into stakeholders with skin in the game. This democratized approach bypassed traditional gatekeepers while creating a passionate support network.The film itself examines male competition and power dynamics through the story of three friends at a secluded cabin, with Lauren caught between two men vying for dominance. Kleiber describes his approach as "whistling in the dark" - making audiences laugh during deeply uncomfortable situations. His experiences at regional film festivals like Sundial and Film Fort challenge conventional wisdom about the importance of major festivals, suggesting smaller venues often provide more meaningful connections.Between creative projects, Kleiber sustains himself by tagging films for ShotDeck - a visual reference database - allowing him flexible income while absorbing cinematic techniques that enhance his directorial vision. His perspective on Hollywood's evolution suggests we're witnessing not just an ending but a transformation, with filmmaking talent now flourishing across multiple platforms from YouTube to branded content.Ready to reimagine your filmmaking approach? Subscribe now to hear more conversations with creators challenging traditional production models and finding success on their own terms.Support the show

Sundial contributor Chris Ferguson wonders why we humans feel the need to measure all kinds of things.

Shirley Jackson, Elspeth Barker, and your emails – welcome to episode 139 of Tea or Books?! Can you believe we’ve been going for ten years? It’s wild to me! In the first half of the episode we compare two gothic-inspired

Monita Soni returns to the Sundial Writers Corner with her poem entitled "Musings".

When the Sundial Stage is double booked, Yukee helps her friends to work together.

On Part 2 of this Solstice Radio Special, sixteen Sundial Writers present their thoughts on the space, the time, the emotion "Between Light and Dark".

On this Solstice Radio Special, seven Sundial Writers present their thoughts on the space, the time, the emotion "Between Light and Dark".

New contributor Jim Parker has written a poem that pretty much describes himself perfectly. It's called A Man Like Me.

Sundial based template minus sundial A-Z Stand on Meditation Memory PalacesMind BLOWN!

New Sundial contributor introduces us to Lucy Harris, a pioneer of women's basketball here in the States.

Rose Battle returns to center stage with a story of her "Uncle Lobe", who experienced his first "moving picture" with her family at the drive in movie!

Cigar Box Guitar Store owners Tara and Jeff Mello share their personal journey through an unlikely path

Will Seamus Ennis recalls an adventurous trip to an overlooked national treasure.

Brenda Wilkerson shares a story of a woman taking charge of her own destiny.

New contributor Lin Cochran shares some "Movie Memories" from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Aubrey Fannin returns to the Sundial Writers Corner with two poems written while his Mother was passing from this world.

Ron Warren recalls an Easter Egg hunt that went terribly wrong!

Sundial contributor Ambrosia Patterson is here with help when you need a little inspiration!

Pat Graves remembers his childhood friend, who suffered under the moniker, "the PK".

Today George Hamilton points out the problems inherent in multitasking.

Outdoor enthusiast Sara Leibold has penned a love letter to the Appalachian Trail for this week's episode.

Tyler Faires is back on the Viva Downtown Discussion Podcast to talk about the Sundial Film Festival's exciting return to the Cascade Theatre on Saturday March 22, 2025. He shares insights into the festival's revitalization, collaborating with filmmakers and artists to establish a dynamic local, regional, and international film event in Downtown Redding. Tyler also explores the future of filmmaking and the crucial role of investing in local film programs in Shasta County. Tune in to learn more about the people shaping the future of downtown Redding through social, cultural and economic development. The Sundial Film Festival: Saturday March 22, 2025  at the Cascade Theatre.Check out the Website: Sundial Film Festival - A Northern California Film FestivalGet your Tickets Here: Sundial Film Festival – Cascade TheatreTICKET INFORMATION: Get ready for an unforgettable cinematic experience at the 16th Annual Sundial Film Festival on March 22nd at the iconic Cascade Theatre! This is your chance to immerse yourself in the best local and international films, showcasing incredible talent from around the globe.Don't miss out—grab an All-Access Pass to enjoy both screenings with over 25 films through the day, or choose individual tickets for the 2 PM and 7 PM showings. Whether you're a film enthusiast or just looking for an exciting afternoon or evening out, the Sundial Film Festival is the place to be!Both showings have entirely different films and we are rating the two events with PG13 in mind. Please be advised. Pricing from $25 to $45

Storyteller Sara McDaris sat down at the computer one day and a series of words spilled from her brain: free verse, she calls it, and says it's very satisfying to say out loud!

Maureen Perkins shows us how simplicity can create vast beauty in her essay "17 Little Syllables".

What's up Ginger Bros listeners, we hope you enjoy this show as we have Mark Reid and his grandson Dylan with SundialTool.com on the show. We get to hear Mark's background into PDR and why he decided to create the SunDial tool for dropping sunroofs. His grandson Dylan has joined his team and has been learning PDR as well. Both have a great story to tell so listen in as we get to know Mark and Dylan just a little bit better.

Pavarthy Bhooshanan brings us a tale of two transplants.

Canadian transplant Brigitte Pellerin shares her thoughts on one of our area's newest attractions.

PA549 Psalms 128:1-131:3 mp3 In this message, we continue our consideration of the Psalms of the Degrees, written by Hezekiah to commemorate his fifteen extra years of life, granted by Jehovah after the shadow moved backwards ten degrees on the Sundial of Ahaz. The blessed man whose family is healthy and in order is described […]

Send us a textThis episode highlights the upcoming Sundial Film Festival and the completion of Tyler's film, The Dresden Sun. Tyler shares details on community engagement, the significance of affordable arts access, and his personal journey through setbacks and creative resurgence. • Overview of the Sundial Film Festival details and ticket pricing • Excitement around the film, The Dresden Sun, and its Berlin showcase • Insights into the star-studded cast of The Dresden Sun • Tyler's theatrical experiences and engagement with Axiom Repertory Theater • Discussion about the community's resilience after recent setbacks • Final thoughts on creativity and upcoming projects Please check out our website for tickets to the Sundial Film Festival!Support the show

The house built around diversity, equity and inclusion is coming apart brick by brick. Since last summer, brands, retailers, holding companies and, most recently the federal government, have been dismantling (or retooling) DEI initiatives, many of which were built up after the murder of George Floyd and subsequent Black Lives Matter Movement of 2020. The “diversity” portion of diversity, equity and inclusion has become divisive, impacting multicultural marketing agencies, Black-owned brands and diverse publications. And they're starting to feel the ripple effects, according to Kirk McDonald, CEO of Sundial Media Group, holding company for brands like Essence magazine, Afropunk festival and Refinery29. Although, he said, it's too early to tell the full impact DEI's retooling (or rebrand) will have on the industry in terms of media spend, marketing budgets or consumer habits. McDonald recently sat down with the Digiday Podcast to talk about how Sundial's diverse publications, geared toward women and other historically marginalized communities, are navigating the pushback.

In this essay, Doreen Fulcher encourages us to "take the road less travelled!"

On the Road to Aya.Cael becomes the Amazon's Unorthodox Global DiplomatBy FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.For me, the diplomacy revolved around Delilah and Virginia, I had already fallen on my knees and begged Odette to let me go see Aya 'alone'. A few sexual-charged hours later, she agreed. That left four choices for the role of my two agents. They wanted to go 'as is'. Rachel informed them they would be murdered in-flight and their bodies tossed out over a convenient body of water.Rachel felt that the only reasonable course of action was for them to not come. That way the two could live a few more weeks. However, she would settle for stripping them down, doing a full body scan and then sealing them naked in airtight coffins (with a suitable amount of oxygen) for the journey. I suspected they might still slip out the baggage compartment somewhere between takeoff and landing.I cut through the clash of egos and made the final decision. Delilah and Virginia would be stripped and thoroughly examined. Initially I had the chore. Rachel was deeply suspicious of my true intentions. Freed of any electronic devices and with their weaponry in my keeping during the trip, they would be blindfolded as we made it to Aya without bloodshed.They applauded my wisdom by roundly refusing my decision. Pamela was of no help. Ten minutes into it, I informed them I was going alone, completely alone. They laughed, snorted and chuckled. Rachel reminded me that I didn't know where to go. I lied and told her that Katrina had given me the coordinates for the super-secret juvenile, all-feline [yes, I meant cats], survival training school.Fine, they would just keep me under constant surveillance. I responded by assuring them that despite my lack of spy-like abilities, I would escape and get to relive my Summer Camp experience with the only woman who respected my Demigod-like combat status. Their laughter hurt my feelings. Pamela stepped up and told the room they could either respect my compromise, or she would help me evade them.It was even more depressing to see the room full of women who had previously been mocking me suddenly 'snap to' and quickly agree to my earlier suggestions."It is okay," Pamela told me softly as the actual mechanics of my vacation were figured out by others. "I didn't want to play Bill Munny to your Ben Logan."Pamela's eyes flared brighter than any phoenix's rebirth. She'd stumped me."The Unforgiven, my Son," she patted my cheek. "It is a western made in 1992 starring Clint Eastwood, recast masterfully by 'Yours Truly' and, we need to work on you making a convincing Morgan Freeman.""Doesn't Freeman end up in a pinewood box in the first third of the movie?" Virginia mused."I didn't want to dishearten him," Pamela grinned. To me. "He ran off alone and got himself killed.""I was what, not even a year old when that movie came out," I responded with indignation."You've never heard of Block Busters, Netflix, Redbox, Dish, Hulu, or late night, Spanish language television?" Pamela snickered."I only watch Univision for their sports coverage," I countered."You mean for those sexy female sports announcers," Delilah chuckled. That earned her a 'well duh' look from all the other women."Before I consent to the strip search and inevitable follow-up anal probe, are we really going to be in a situation that requires us to fight this time?" Virginia asked."We should be perfectly safe," Rachel responded."Check, bring extra ammo," Virginia nodded."Good for you, Ms. Maddox," Pamela winked. "One day there is hope your life will have some meaning to me.""Great," Special Agent Maddox muttered, "now I have to think of what to get her for Christmas." We all laughed. Christmas was such a long way away.We packed up, rode to a private airfield near Doebridge, learned that SD was smarter than the rest of us, boarded our flight, and then finally entered US airspace from there. Around Ohio, a thought occurred to Maddox."If we were somehow forced to land and have the plane searched, how bad would it be?" she requested of Rachel."Bad enough that we have a better chance of fighting our way free than seeing freedom before dying in prison," Rachel answered calmly."Hmm, Rachel, if something like that happened, how many parachutes do we have?" Delilah joined in."Enough. Mona rides down with Cael because he's a virgin," Rachel stated."Oh! Come on Rachel," I fell down on my knees. "Can't I bungee jump it?""Luv," Delilah snorted. "If the drop didn't kill ya, the bounce back would snap you in two.""Cáel, we are at thirty thousand feet," Tiger Lily giggled. "You are more likely to end as a streamer than a pancake." An Amazon giggle, a most joyous noise."Rachel, I have been unkind," Virginia confessed. "Cáel is so personable and so dead set on getting himself killed. I had no idea your assignment was so herculean.""Acknowledged," Rachel said, "and we don't use 'that' word." Hercules was Greek too."We have it worse," Delilah patted Maddox on her shoulder. "We must obey some sort of legal code that doesn't allow us to preemptively save him.""We must too," Rachel gave a depressive sigh. "Her," she pointed at Pamela."Hey," Pamela pouted. "I'm more a force for vigilante justice than a team player. I ride alone.""Alone?" I took a quick headcount and added our Amazon pilot. "I count ten, Lone Phaser.""Am I included in that count?" Miyako yawned from under her blanket. "This jet lag is killing me.""Where did she come from?" Virginia hopped up."She was here when we boarded," I told her. "I searched her, I swear.""Yes he did," Miyako gave a sleepy, Hello Kitty smile. She'd 'searched' me too."I bet you did," Rachel glared at me, then Pamela, then me again since I was the titular boss.Thankfully we all 'bought a vowel', played a card in Clue, and shared an Inspector Clouseau moment. The gang settled down for a nap. Sleeping was not complicated. Rachel, as my bodyguard, slept beside me. The airplane's touchdown was so flawless I had to be shaken to alertness. Did I fall asleep? More on that later.It would have been better if Virginia hadn't figured out our pilot had violated numerous FAA regulations, like dropping below radar at one remote airport then sailing along for an unknown number of kilometers at nape of the Earth until we reached our final destination (This is great in date flicks, btw. It convinces the girl that we should 'live in the moment'/screw as much as possible.)We weren't there yet, of course. That level of un-convoluted thinking would have been an Amazon indicator of senility. Being a male Amazon, I was immune to such considerations, that meant I was always nuts in their regard, but they chose to humor me. Our plane had to park in a camouflaged hangar before we were allowed to disembark.I concluded we must be getting close to our desert gulag/re-education center as the sharp glare of sunlight was accompanied by an equally heartless glare of hostility rolling forth from our waiting all-terrain vehicle caravan. Thank goodness Rachel had the foresight to bring sunscreen for the passel of us. I swallowed the bitter realization I'd lost a $1000 bet concerning our landing zone with Virginia (a Temperate Rainforest) and Delilah (the American Southwest). In retrospect, betting on the site of 'Camp Rock' wasn't my smartest wager.The Brit made off with $2000 of our money and she wanted to be paid in Euros. That's €778 from me, you offspring of those who didn't have the courage to cross the Atlantic 100 years ago. Neither Virginia nor I really cared. With the level of violence about to escalate, it was all looking like 'funny' money to us. I didn't share my misery. Our Welcome Wagon ladies hardly looked sympathetic, or all that opposed to utilizing scalping as a valid debating tool.They didn't view this moment as just a bad thing, me showing up. My arrival was apocalyptic: #1, a man. #2, with a member of another secret society. #3, #2 was a professional assassin. #4 and #5, two more outsider women. #6, an unscheduled visit, as in 'the camp guardians hadn't been given six months to plan out all contingencies'. And you think your daycare takes its security seriously?"Cáel Ishara," the curt, mega-harsh bitch addressed me in English. As the other seven women dismounted from the four Jeep Wranglers (Delilah enlightened us), it was obvious they were well armed and armored, right and ready to provide some extra-curricular para-military fun. "Welcome," and 'oh please tear out one or two of my fingernails you Ginormous Pain in my ass' she greeted the exalted me. We spoke in Hittite;"I am”, then I used a phrase which I hoped meant 'I had shed blood in battle with sister Aya'. "No other name means more to me right now." Ah, the lovely jerk that full-blooded Amazons gave the first time they heard a male speak their tongue. The slot machine of her intellect kicked into high gear. No arm grasp was coming my way. I almost forgot."The outsiders are to remain armed as guests of House Ishara." That command was crucial. When/if I got my way with my first request, I was going to be rendered 'one of the girls'."If that is your wish. (Evil grin) Grab your bags and make it snappy," the woman ordered. "I don't like any extended activity at this airfield.""Ladies, let's hurry up and get our bags," Pamela barked in English. "You too, you hairless ape." That would be me, if there was any question. The Super-friendly camp counselors, with their slung FN P90's, didn't lift a finger to help us. Miyako flounced around without a care in the world. Pamela, eh, there were only eight of them. Three of my SD group were cautious while the pilot was already effecting her refueling and departure.Rachel shot one of the guardians a look I perceived to be friendly. A double-take elucidated things. She was Rachel's younger sister and had already been updated on my bona fides. Then in Hittite;"Male, you are agreeable to the eye," Rachel's sister fired off. Three whole seconds."Why thank you. I run faster than you would think, thankfully heal even faster and have the venerated outdoor skills of Bigfoot," I smiled.The seven other ladies weren't sure what to make of that jocularity."A very, very young Bigfoot," Rachel corrected."There is nothing wrong with the size of his feet," Tiger Lily added to the fun. And then all the homicidal fanatics chuckled.Pamela's whispered translation brought a subdued, yet similar reaction from the non-Amazon contingent. Sure, the new group knew about the New Directive, my fun encounters which I equated to my life and death struggle in those earlier days, my rise to house leadership, Constanza's blinding, the grenade launcher episode and the totality of my last confrontation with Hayden. Amazons are some hard-ass bitches.As we were loading up the jeeps, the leader tapped me on the shoulder with some force, in the same way a teacher catches an unruly student's attention."What was sex with an augur like? My name is Caprica Mielikki.""Out of respect for your authority, I will answer this personal question that is really none of your business," I looked down a good ten centimeters at her. No fear."It was beautiful, like every other woman I have had the treasured pleasure to have sex with," I continued. My reply's undercurrent was simple: I am not a House Head while I'm here. I am an Amazon, not a slave, or outsider male."Did you suffer stigmata?""Yes. To be fair, I was also having intercourse with her personal guardian at the same time. I'm not sure where to lay the blame, or importance," I inhaled her rugged fragrance."Both?" a different camp counselor questioned."As I told you, he has a really big and craftily-wielded foot," Tiger Lily teased, then Pamela said in Hittite;"And he is banned from having sex with any Amazon women for fifty more days," Pamela reminded them. Miyako, Delilah and Maddox weren't involved so were left uninformed of that detail. That bludgeoning innuendo dealt with, off to camp we went. Our journey was a pleasant diversion, punctuated by our trail, or lack thereof.The jeeps split up once we hit the aerial cover of the desert pines. At that point, every rock, shrub, tree and loose bit of debris revealed its God-given mission in life was to kill us. I kept telling myself that surely our Amazon driver abhorred suicide as much as I frowned on vehicular manslaughter as a means of me dying.Failing to believe that left me with tuck, duck and roll and that death-defying move would leave me lost and waterless, somewhere. I would have thought 'somewhere without cell reception', but none of our mobile devices had made the trip, despite a valiant effort at skullduggery by Special Agent Maddox and some highly creative types back at the Hoover Building.See, after we dutifully packed all our gear, the troupe got to watch Rachel's team toss everything into a cargo bin set to be loaded onto a flight to, the ticket said Banjul, Gambia. Woot! My ten ton armored long coat was going to Africa without me. It would have undoubtedly have tried to kill me in this heat. I was lured into acceptance by hoping this was going to be a 'birthday suit' flight.Yay! (Sarcasm) We got all new undies, shirts, shoes, pants, shorts, jackets, ponchos (I was beginning to suspect duplicity on that one), and a variety of other gear, including guns. They were nice enough to replace our weapons with the exact same production models. The sole exceptions were my trusty axes and I trembled at the scrutiny they must have endured.Meanwhile, back to my archaic, misogynistic inspiration that women shouldn't be allowed to drive: after the third skirting of what must have been a ten meter drop, I realized I was looking at this journey in the wrong light. I raised my hands over my head and began screaming like a fool. I was on the best rollercoaster ride ever!!The hobnail boot was on the other foot. My driver really wanted to know what the fuck I was up to, but couldn't take her concentration off the terrain. One massive lurch planted us in an arroyo (that's a dry riverbed for those of us who aren't freaked out every time it rains). Rachel and I were sitting in the back. Turning around in the front seat, Pamela grinned at me."I dare you to surf the hood," she laughed. Sweet Mother Ishara, that was the best mixing of 'you must be a redneck'/'immortal high schooler madness' I'd ever heard. I unbuckled milliseconds before Rachel could stop me. Her look said it all. 'Please, you Moron, don't do this to me. I've been a good little guardian and really don't deserve this, now do I?'I gave her a deep French kiss. She moaned, just not in a sexual manner. One of these days Rachel was going to start running around with a needle and fast acting sedative to keep me safe from myself. Understand, my driver was racing down this dirt, well, "pathway" was being generous. Her first warning that something wasn't right was me hand-standing on the roll bar and flipping onto the dashboard.Considering I was up against a 70 kilometer headwind, I felt I pulled off that maneuver rather well. She grabbed my closest ankle with one hand while keeping the other on the wheel. Our eyes were masked with goggles, but my smile said it all. No, I hadn't been thrown forward, and no, I wasn't running away from something in the back seat.I shook free, stepped over the windshield, braced my right heel against its base and leaned into the torrent of air. I was surfing a jeep. Then I was flying above the jeep, but only for a second. We'd hit a rock the size of an armadillo, or maybe it was an actual armadillo. I wasn't looking back to check. Why was I doing this? It was a tad complex. I gave Psych 101 a shot.My life was not where I had envisioned it would be when I kissed Dr. Kimberly Geisler, and my last two Bolingbrook girlfriends, who had been unaware of each other until that moment, good-bye before leaving college forever. I proudly considered myself amoral. No social contract would keep me from some good cunt, and since I found all cunt to be good if you worked at it, I slept with every girl I could, married, committed, bored, desperate, I didn't care.I held no relationship sacred. I had already proved I could do any girl's mother, daughter, aunt, roommate, childhood friend and total stranger. I hadn't cared. I knew I was going to cause multiple women emotional pain and I did it anyway. Sure, I regretted the agony I left in my wake.I never considered myself a sadist, but I had been a pretty horrible person by ignoring the inevitable consequences of my actions. Then Havenstone. Suddenly people were doing bad stuff to people I didn't know and it mattered to me. I was talking to women without the end goal being a sexual encounter.Hell, I had been honest to women without them using pain, or the threat of pain, on me. I didn't stop being me. I nailed four women at Loraine's, Europa's and Aya's school. I nailed Nicole while waiting for Trent to toss me his social table scraps, Libra. A whole army of women engaged in murder, slavery and infanticide on a regular basis, and I cared for them.I cared for them in a way that confronted damnation, not sexual adventurism. I had graduated from 'Dude, don't do that to the lady' at some bar to 'do this and I'll have you killed' and meaning it, and making it happen. I hadn't learned my lesson. I'd gone on to kill Hayden and Goddess-knows how many other women who Hayden had placed on that list.Yep, dead, dead, dead and it was all on me. Worse, I would do it all over again because deep down, tearing up my insides, was morality. To me that boiled down to caring about someone else without reward. And all that led me to surfing the hood of a jeep on my way to meet my lodestone of this transformation, Aya.My laughter was drowned out by the noises of the engine, tires, rocks, wind and sand. It resonated all the more. The driver didn't slow down. I sincerely doubted she understood my lunacy. That was okay. Pamela did and Aya would. She'd want to go jeep surfing too. Man, for a jackass and dastardly betrayer, I was accumulating a sizable heart-load of people I could honestly say I loved.Kimberly had once told me that the pain of knowledge is never being able to forget it. Good, or bad, it is an affliction for which there is no cure. That was where I was, pained by the creeping advancement of my soul and unable to turn back now that the door to familial affection had been opened.My thoughts of Dad dying and of a thunderstorm burst in my noggin weren't being terribly helpful to my mental state either. The horn blew and I snuck a quick peek back. The driver was making a sharp, forward jabbing motion with her right hand, then thrusting to the left. We were getting ready to exit the arroyo and that probably required some hellish footwork far beyond my ability.I made a hasty, less dignified, yet safer return to my seat. Rachel quickly buckled me in before a rapid turn up and over the bank of the river bed had us heading for another forested area."What was that all about?" Rachel asked once we were back into the tree cover. She'd have asked earlier but she was too busy clenching and unclenching her jaw in frustration.

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Davis Blackwelder brings us another of his "Uncle Bill" stories. His Uncle Bill was a legendary character in his family, and Davis is determined to keep the old stories alive!

Susan Luther brings us her observations of her church organist's footwear in this poem entitled The Organist's Socks.

Alex Moore takes us on a ride through the backwoods of Alabama back in the 1970's, searching out moonshine stills. His story is named "White Lightning".

In this episode of Trip Tales, Kelsey shares all the details from her family's  winter getaway to Park City, Utah! Tune in as she recaps why skiing on The Canyons side of Park City Mountain Resort is their favorite.But it wasn't all smooth skiing! Kelsey dives into how they navigated the unexpected Ski Patrol Strike and what it meant for their time on the slopes. Plus, she shares their go-to restaurants and how they rang in the New Year in Park City.Mentioned in this episode:My ski outfit: Amazon White Ski Bibs, Tipsy Elves Retro Ski Jacket, ThermaJane Long Johns, Hestra Mittens (Size 8), White Ski Helmet (Size L), BlackStrap Ski Mask, Ski GogglesRestaurants mentioned: Red Tail Grill, Drafts Burger Bar, Billy Blanco's, Lookout Cabin, Pine Cone Ridge, Park City Roadhouse Grill, Main St. Pizza & Noodle, Edge SteakhouseHotels in the Canyons Village: Westgate Resort, Hyatt Centric, The Summit, The Sundial, The Pendry, Yotel PadWestgate Presidential Suite booked through StayLuxe Park CityBootworks bootfitters in Park City, shin bang, Lange ski bootsSUPPORT: Buy me a coffee to show your support for the Trip Tales podcast! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/kelseygravesFOLLOW: Kelsey on Instagram & TikTokSHOP: Kelsey's Travel Favorites from her Amazon storefront.SHARE: About your trip on the Trip Tales podcast: triptalespodcast@gmail.comPARTNER DISCOUNT CODESBling2o - 10% OFF Bling2o kids ski goggles with code: KELSEYSPANX.COM - Use code KGRAVESXSPANX for 15% OFF full-price items and FREE SHIPPING. My current fav travel outfit is the Air Essentials Jumpsuit. CHASE SAPPHIRE CREDIT CARD - My preferred points earning credit card and a great card for newbies entering the points & miles space to get started. Open a Chase Sapphire Preferred with my link and earn 60,000 BONUS POINTS after you ...

Sundial poet Alan Burkett brings us reflections on that unique Southern city, New Orleans.

New Sundial contributor Elizabeth Seifried shares a story of a kindness offered by her Mawmaw in Danville, Alabama.

In our last episode of 2024, Patricia Sammon recalls a family trip from Canada to Florida back in 1969. Her story is called "Winter Fruit".

Dr Steve, Dr Scott and Tacie discuss: stiff person syndrome stone man syndrome saving $ on prescription drugs smoking cessation scrotal sag? Scrotoplasty! HPV vaccine 30 minutes of sleep per day? Stupid human orienteering tricks Please visit: simplyherbals.net/cbd-sinus-rinse (the best he's ever made. Seriously.) instagram.com/weirdmedicine x.com/weirdmedicine stuff.doctorsteve.com (it's back!) youtube.com/@weirdmedicine (click JOIN and ACCEPT GIFTED MEMBERSHIPS. Join the "Fluid Family" for live recordings!) youtube.com/@normalworld (Check out Dave and crew, and occasionally see your old pal!) Watch for our new channel "Stitts on Gaming" coming soon! You can play along with us at Megabonanza.com! An actual legit site, never had an issue redeeming "sweepstakes coins" (i.e., real money) We also play at STAKE.US! Get free stuff (crypto site, let me know if you need help getting set up!) Try mining any major crypto on ANY device! Join the largest mining ecosystem: you only need the right tools to get a stable income! Check out the full product line Do you love coffee? Jeremy can be a nut sometimes, but his coffee is serious business and seriously great Visit Coffee Brand Coffee from HERE and get a discount on small-batch roasted coffee beans, grinds, and K-cups CHECK OUT THE ROADIE COACH stringed instrument trainer! roadie.doctorsteve.com (the greatest gift for a guitarist or bassist! The robotic tuner!) see it here: stuff.doctorsteve.com/#roadie Also don't forget: Cameo.com/weirdmedicine (Book your old pal right now because he's cheap! "FLUID!") Most importantly! CHECK US OUT ON PATREON!  ALL NEW CONTENT! Robert Kelly, Mark Normand, Jim Norton, Gregg Hughes, Anthony Cumia, Joe DeRosa, Pete Davidson, Geno Bisconte, Cassie Black ("Safe Slut"). Stuff you will never hear on the main show ;-) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Our Sundial Writers bring you stories and poetry of Christmases past and present.

A celebrated group of Sundial Writers present their stories and poems of the holiday season.

Contributor Hethalyn Godwin finds herself far from home and away from all things familiar in this essay entitled Christmas in Bombay.

Rebecca Moore reflects on the uses of nostalgia, recalling a talk she heard 10 years ago at a school assembly right before the winter break.

Sundial contributor Martena Koken, like most of us, has spent some time worrying about making the perfect holiday pie!

In this week leading up to Thanksgiving, Sundial contributor Carol Hoch offers us a story of love and gratitude.

Rose Battle returns with a remembrance of events at her family's cemetery in Jackson County, Alabama.

“the loss of the old black boot” [HOUN]    Brown boot, black boot — these two items of Sir Henry Baskerville's went missing at the Northumberland Hotel shortly after he arrived in London. And they begin to put Sherlock Holmes on the scent of The Hound of the Baskervilles.   However, there's a wrinkle regarding the old black boot that persists throughout the story. George Fletcher, BSI ("The Cardboard Box") made a note of this curious detail for the very first time in The Papers on the Sundial, a 2020 publication from The Five Orange Pips. And it's quite the Trifle.   Do you have a topic you'd like to recommend? Email us at trifles@ihearofsherlock.com and if we use your idea on the air, we'll send you a thank-you gift.   All of our supporters are eligible for our monthly drawings for Baker Street Journals and certain tiers receive thank you gifts. Join our community on Patreon or Substack today. Leave Trifles a five-star rating and listen to us wherever you listen to podcasts.   Links / Notes The Best of the Pips (1955) The Best of the Pips Volume II (1999) All of our social links: https://linktr.ee/ihearofsherlock Email us at trifles @ ihearofsherlock.com Join our community on Patreon or Substack to hear bonus material and be eligible for drawings.      Music credits Performers: Uncredited violinist, US Marine Chamber Orchestra  Publisher Info.: Washington, DC: United States Marine Band  Copyright: Creative Commons Attribution 3.0    

Aaron Binaco is an interdisciplinary creative working at the intersection of culture, design, and emerging tech. Aaron collaborates with a range of clients, publishes the annual magazine Cape Cod Compass and is the founder of the creative studio Sundial.  I linked up with Aaron by way of friend and guest of the show Matt King. Keep em' comin. Please welcome Aaron Binaco to Wear Many Hats. instagram.com/aab_aab_aab_ ⁠⁠instagram.com/sssundial ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠instagram.com/wearmanyhatswmh⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠instagram.com/rashadrastam⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠rashadrastam.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠wearmanyhats.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠