Hi! Looking for any feedback from folks have done either of these routes.
Route choice:
Debating between Pinyons and Pines route: http://danaernst.com/PinyonsPines/course2022/ or The Coconino Loop : (https://bikepacking.com/routes/bikepacking-coconino-loop/)
My Plan:
Fly into PHX on Saturday May 6th. Groome Shuttle to take me to Flagstaff. Drop bike bag off at bike shop. Get a room. Start ride on Sunday - spend the next 6 days riding. Get back to Flagstaff on Friday the 12th, get a room. Morning of the 13th take shuttle back to PHX and fly home.
Pace:
I have 6 days to ride and would like to use all that time to ride. Based on my trip on the Queens Ransom in 5 days, I think ill be plenty knackered doing either of these routes in 6 days plus filming
Bike Choice:
Debating between my El Jefe with 120mm front Suspension or my Transition Spur 130/120. Seems like I might have a bit more fun on my Spur! I haven't done a ton of Bikepacking on the Spur though. I think both would be up for the task. I am more comfortable bikepacking on the El Jefe and have slightly more carrying capacity on the el Jefe.
Why I'd choose one route over the other:
I'd RATHER do a route that:

• Has easier water logistics (more water reup opportunities) - Planning to carry around 6 liters but have capacity to carry up to 8
• Is generally cooler (Is at higher elevation / has less exposed sections) I am anticipating that it could get cold (freezing) and hot (in the 90s) on either route. I do better in cold weather than in the heat though.
• Has LESS hike a bike. I am anticipating both routes to have a fair amount of hike a bike. Would prefer the one that has less.
• Is actually ridable when I plan to go! I am watching snow levels... the Pinyons and Pines race starts May 18th, so I figured im in the right ballpark timing wise.

If anyone has feedback/experience on either route i'd love to hear it! Thanks!

They never wanted you, I was so unlucky that I was the one they dumped you with. You're lucky this is all you get. You should have seen what I had to go through as a kid. You should be grateful for what we do for you. No one else will ever love you. No one else will ever care about you.
I am on a tightrope, a smile beaming brightly on my face. I stare straight ahead, walking slow, steady, I do not dare to look down. I'm almost at the end, I've almost made it. I fall.
Have you heard the saying, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger? It was my un-mother's favorite.
Hard day at school? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Didn't get picked on the sport team you wanted? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
You don't like it when I put you in an ice bath and make you stand outside, naked and dripping wet, while the snow falls? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
It was early, before the sun had even risen, when I was woken up by the phone ringing. I let out a bleary hello, and got nothing but the sound of manic laughter in return. And then the line went dead.
Annoyed at being woken up by some prankster asshole who obviously had nothing better to do, I tried hard to get back to sleep but after a while I gave up, and got up for the day. I had a work meeting at 9, and then a dinner date with a girl I'd been seeing for a while. It was starting to get serious, and I was pretty nervous. I'd never had a proper girlfriend. Never knew I would be able to get one.
But Rose is great, she's sweet, affectionate, everything you could want in a partner. I just hope that I don't do anything to mess it up. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. At work, I get another call. This time on my mobile, the screen flashing 'private number'. I answer and then silence, I'm about to hang up when I hear what sounds like a childs voice. It whispers something ineligible, I can't quite hear or understand.
A moment passes, more silence. And then sobbing, heavy, wet gulps. "She's coming for me, she's coming for me. Please, I'm sorry. She's coming and I can't stop her. I should have stopped her." I recognize the voice. It's.. It is my own voice. "What.. Who, who is this?" I myself whisper, my brain trying to process what's going on. The line goes dead.
I leave work early, feigning a headache. My eyes are red rimmed and I must look utterly exhausted, because my boss agrees without another word and tells me to rest up. When she learns about my fake headache,that she doesn't actually know is fake, Rose tells me she will bring the dinner to me. To rest up. She will look after me.
I don't tell her about the phone calls. How could I? What would I even say? Instead she tells me about the ancestory DNA kit her and her whole family had just done. She said it was amazing how many people she was related to, from all over the world. I was paying attention as best I could, my mind still wandering back to the mysterious phone call. It had to be a prankster. That's the only Logical explanation.
Rose tucks me into bed, and kisses my forehead when she leaves. She smells like vanilla slice. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
I am not woken by the phone, I sleep peacefully until my alarm rings. Today is a new day, a better day. I dont notice the drawing on the kitchen bench until I'm about to head out the door. It's a child's drawing, a crudely drawn picture of what looks to be a kind of purple devil thing, orange steam coming out of its ears and a million sharp teeth in it's head. It's bizarre, and more than a little creepy. I have no kids. Rose has no kids, there are no children that I know, let alone ones that would sneak into my locked home to place a picture on my table. Seeing the drawing brings back a memory, and makes me feel nauseated.
I sit on the cold tiles in my kitchen, drawing in hand as I recall me as a child, un-mother had made me sit for hours, hours and hours, on a small child's sette. Being 8, I was barely able to squeeze my legs under the plastic table, and they were without feeling after half an hour. She made me draw whatever she said. If it wasn't good enough, and most of them weren't up to her standards, she made me scrunch up my drawing, and eat it.
She sent me to bed without dinner, because my tummy was already full from the half exercise book I'd had to chew and swallow over the day. I heard her laughing happily with glee later on that night as I lay awake on the mattress I had on the floor, my belly hurting but I dare not get up to use the toilet. Once I was in bed, I had to stay no matter what.
I hated listening her, and how happy she was. It was as if she was deliriously happy after she had won a battle, a battle that I didn't even want to play in.
I told no one about the drawing. It was worse than the phone call. I couldn’t convince myself that somehow someone had broken in to leave me a weird drawing, let alone would I try and convince others.
I didn’t chuck the drawing either though, for some reason it didn’t feel right. I tucked it away in my sock draw, I’d decide what to do with it later. When my phone rings from a private number, I don’t answer it. I just watch as it rings and rings, and then I turn off my phone.
There was a parcel waiting on my door step when I got home. I wondered if Rose had dropped of some sort of care package, that was just the type of person she was. Kind and thoughtful. But it wasn’t a care package, not in the slightest.
I pulled out an a4 album, a weathered a worn photo album I remembered vividly from childhood. I dropped it as a reaction, as if it burnt my hands just to hold it. I wasn’t allowed to. There were many, many rules. But this was one of the greater ones. You never, ever, ever touch un-mothers belongings. Especially never touch her special albums.
But I wasn’t a kid anymore. I wasn’t going to be scared of punishment, of not being allowed to do something. It was me, all of the photos were of me. But they weren’t the family photos you’d expect to see in photo frames adorning the walls of loving family homes. I am only two pages in before I’m throwing up. Bile pours out of my mouth as tears roll down my face. I always knew she wasn’t.. Right. That there was something fundamentally wrong with her. But this photo album proved I knew absolutely nothing about the type of evil she was. I think about taking the album to the police station. But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I burn it in my firepit. Trying to not think about where the other copies of those photos had ended up.
It doesn’t occur to me to think who could have possibly sent it, not at that moment anyway. Later on, I glanced at the box it had been delivered in, and found it had no return address, not that I was surprised.
I throw my phone in the river. I tell my boss, I tell rose, that I lost it somewhere. I would get a new number. I would forget about the album and sick photos, I would, as I had been doing for so many years, forget the past again. But it seemed like the past did not want to forget me.
A text message, from an unknown number. My gut churned as it came onto my phone screen. “278 (redacted) road, (redacted).” That was it. Just an address. I didn’t want to go. I told myself it was silly. To just forget. But without even knowing what I was doing, soon enough I was in my car, the GPS giving me directions to my destination. Decrepit, that was one way to describe the home I had pulled up outside of.
Dirty sheets were hung in the windows in place of curtains, trash piled up in mounds filling the front yard with an unmistakable whiff of putrid rotting food. I went to knock on the door, but it was unlocked, and as I pressed my hand against it, the door swung open, revealing an even worse odor inside.
Newspapers, rubbish, cat shit lined the floor way, what you could see though the piles of junk, anyway. I felt sick. Dizzy. And then I heard her voice. It was a moan, not words. A groan of pain, of exhaustion. I followed the sounds, and there she was. Sprawled out on a stained couch, fat spilling over from her track pants, sweat drains and God knows what stains dribbled down her t shirt. “Hello, un-mother.”
The pain had got to much. “It hurts. It hurts so much. I can’t go on like this. Put me out or my misery. You owe me.” She couldn't move without pain flashing across her face, beads of sweat dripped as she used all her effort to pick up and sip a mug of water. I watched in disgust, and without pity.
She was withered, half the woman she used to be. Or perhaps that was because now I was grown. I wasn't the tiny, malnourished kid I once had been. I was a man now. Tall. Proud. And thanks to her, strong. I look down at the creature before me, pathetic whimpering coming from its mouth. Sub-human. That's what she had always said, about me. But I could see it now, it was her that was sub-human, and it always had been.
Her eyes were cloudy, skin sallow, sagging. She was skin and bones, making clicking noises when she moved an inch or coughed. Even her hands shook ferociously as she tried to wipe non existent tears from her eyes. "Do it." her voice, sounded like nails on a chalk board to me, making me wince. The sound is raspy, desperate, pleading. "Kill me. Put me out of this goddamn misery."
I am listening to her, but not really. I'm remembering begging, pleading, crying. The time I did get hyperthermia. Or the time my throat got so burnt with the diluted bleach she made me drink, I couldn't eat solid food for 3 weeks.
I remember what she always said. I give her a broad smile, as I deliver the last message she will ever hear from me, and most likely anyone. She was never one for having many friends, and it didn't look like that had changed any. I predict her dying here alone, slowly, but surely. She wanted me to end her life, said she had a month or so left before the cancer took her anyway.
She is right. I do owe her. I say. "No one ever loved me like you did, un-mother. No one ever will." And every day, I thank a God that I don't particularly belive infor that. “Remember what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger? Mmhmm. Well, I’m too strong to let you take a cowards way out, un-mother. Terminal cancer or not, remember your own wisdom now. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. I’ll come back in a few weeks and check how strong you are then. Goodbye, un-mother. You take care now.” Without another word, I leave, closing the door softly behind me. Her frail wails dissapating the further I get towards the sunshine, towards my life.
When I get home, there's a box wrapped in ribbon sitting on the kitchen bench. It has a card with my name. Curiously, and knowing I hadn't brought anything online lately, I open the box, and find it's a map and a letter. My smile fades, as I begin to read. Now things make sense, in a way. The little voice on the phone.. The drawing.. A big brother trying to make his presence known, trying to tell me I wasn't alone in all of this.
I wish I had known this before. I wish I could have asked my un-mother, what exactly had happened to the son she gave birth to 4 years before me?
Little Robbie Klien. The brother I had never met, the brother I never even knew existed. But once upon a time, he had, there had been a little boy called robbie who came into this world with the awful luck of being born to our un-mother. I hoped I had done him proud.
"I know you really hate surprises, but I just thought it was such a cool idea.. And I mean, you don't need to do anything, if you don't want to. There's no rule book that says you need to contact your long lost family." I smile, surpressing a little laugh at Rose's words. I can tell she's anxious, worrying about how her ancestory DNA gift would go down. I have never told her about un-mother, about what happened when I was a kid. Some memories are better left forgotten, buried with the devils that made them. "Its perfect, Rosie. Just like you."

Hello! As it has been one week since ive needed to bundle up from the cold, spring is here! I thought i'd share my experience biking throughout the winter for the very first time.
​
Bit of backstory: I've been a huge fan of Jason for about a year now and in the summer of 2022 I got a bike. I only used it maybe 3 times though as commuting by work wasn't something I could commit myself to as it would have taken me over an hour 1 way. In early October, my situation changed as work was now only an 8 minute bike ride away. This is when I started commuting to work by bike. I have not stopped since.
Initially as it started to get colder, co-workers started to call me crazy (in a joking way). It really wasn't that bad, just a couple of layers, gloves, and a jacket depending on the day really did the trick. Once it started hitting 5c and below I had gotten myself a scarf to cover my face & nose. With this it took a bit more time to get ready for work + change at work but nothing a bit of preparation couldn't fix.
Then the snow came, and it was awesome! A point that Jason touched on in his video about winter biking is how the cars are quieter as they drive slower and the snow dampens the noise. Plowing through the snow on a calm night ride home was one of the best feelings I cant even describe. It was quite the contrast compared to everyone else who was extremely negative about the snow.
Not all was perfect though, as heavier snowfall came through some sidewalks and bike paths became impassable due to the towns lack of care towards these bits of infrastructure. There were only a couple days where I had to ride on the highway along with traffic. Some sections could be biked on and others I had to walk across. Once the town had gotten around to it though, to their credit they were consistent in keeping the path clear for the rest of the season.
My Mom being the loving are caring person that she is, was terrified by my riding in the snow. Initially threatened to take my bike away, but was that was just an empty promise. I was constantly told i'd fall over and hurt myself severely but that was never the case. I wore a helmet and besides, i'd never go faster then what I felt comfortable with and if there was a sketchy patch i could just extend my legs, no real issue. The route that I took never got icy and never thought about needing studded tires. I can only speculate that this fear comes from the same worries about driving a car in the winter.
After 2 months I became used to the process of looking at the weather, preparing accordingly but other then that, life just went on as usual. Sure, some days the cold wasn't the most pleasant to deal with but it wasn't impossible. One thing i've come to realize is that by North American standards, I live in a *very* walkable/bikable town simply because it's geographically impossible to urban sprawl. I cannot say my experience reflects other towns or cities in the same way.
Few more general points about biking not just related to my winter commute. It was also neat to see others also ride in the winter. I never realized how many people ride bikes in my town until I started doing it myself. When I say how long it takes me to get to and from places, people are more often then not surprised by how little it takes. Do they think biking speed is walking speed? Even I was surprised by how much of what I needed was accessible in a 15 minute bike ride. (15 minute cities make so much sense now!). Its sad that most people still live a car dependent lifestyle, even though its a very walkable/bikable place, but i digress!
​
Thanks for reading! For those who rode through the winter, what was your experience like?

Table of Contents

1. Family farm homesteading?
2. Soil depletion
3. Lowland orchards
4. Fishing for trees
5. Apex warden
6. Cult of trees
7. Exit event
8. Conclusion
9. Discussion

Let me preface this by saying that I'm a suburbanite with no farming or forestry experience. This is me pondering where I'd like to live, ideally. Someone more experienced can comment on the economics of it. This essay assumes there will be income from a job, such as online remote work.
A backyard is not enough.

Family farm homesteading?

The impulse to retreat from degenerate postmodernity and homestead in the wilderness is strong and growing. r /Homestead has 2.4 million members, and r /HumanRewilding explains why. However, my vague impression is that most homesteaders attempt to start a family farm. Great frustration often results, as one learns the difficulties of competition with economies of scale. The family farm lifestyle disappeared for a reason. My sources on this are impeccable.
Things Homesteaders Say YouTube
The personal effort expended is somewhat pointless, since family farming is still unsustainable, particularly after a societal collapse. (Unless you're doing it the Amish way.) More importantly, Earth's ongoing ecological collapse may render intensive farming increasingly nonviable. The vertical line on the atmospheric CO2 chart alone has the potential to cause desertification, a sudden ice age, or just scour away topsoil due to violent adjustments in the thin soil-water-air layer that we take for granted on this spinning molten magnetic rock.
One wouldn't want to wake Jormungandr. Those pyramids didn't weather themselves.
🌊 JÖRMUNGANDR 🌊 (VølfgangTwins) Heavy Viking Music YouTube
What can one do about all this that is actually helpful and practical? And preferably enjoyable. If one's children slave away pointlessly on a hobby farm, they will surely not repeat the mistake. Sustainability includes intergenerational!

Soil depletion

Permaculture is more sustainable than modern commercial farming. However, it still encounters the fundamental problem of soil depletion.
Animals avoid soil nutrient depletion by shitting where they ate. Humans won't do that. Farmers spray liquified shit on their fields, but it's chemical and fuel intensive.
Where does topsoil come from? Tree roots dig it out, then fall and rot, creating surface dirt. Forest is thus the ecologically-optimal land biome, since it efficiently captures water, sunlight and CO2, and moderates air temperature and wind. Reforestation is the best thing we can do for our planet.
Therefore instead of farming, homesteaders should practice forestry. This will be more fun for everyone, since forest homesteading is lazy. Trees require no encouragement to grow. They are quite competitive about it.
To make things easier, plant your homestead next to an existing forest, so that the full biome can easily spread to your property. Help it along by planting trees, and the rest will naturally follow. Birds poop seeds everywhere.
Erosion is a constant. Soil runs down rivers into the sea. Trees turn more rock into soil. As long as humans don't harvest too much, this cycle can continue indefinitely, powered by the sun.
Humans Destroyed Forests for Thousands of Years. We Can Become the First Generation to Expand Them Max Roser

Lowland orchards

Lowlands have a soil surplus due to erosion. Intensive farming can recover key nutrients before they're washed away and compacted into useless sedimentary rock.
Therefore, lowlands are the place to plant orchards. Trees are better than crops, because it is still important to bind the soil, etc. However, the fruit can be harvested for human use without soil depletion, due to the constant influx. Spreading fertilizer is appropriate to compensate for soil nutrient depletion.
Plant trees whose fruit you can use. Why not benefit from your labor? However, a monocropped orchard is too artificial to be sustainable. Be random.
Permaculture gardens work on the same principle. It is best to live in a clearing, to avoid unfortunate dead falls. Surrounding oneself with a garden fed on compost is natural.
The best use for nightsoil is to fertilize biodegradable planters containing useful plants or trees. After sprouting, these can be transported from the nursery to random destinations on one's daily walk. It's a laid-back way to grow one's personal Garden of Eden. Such a cabin could turn a dryad green with envy.
Herbivores are attracted to lowland orchards, but can be driven off with household dogs, who create a buffer between wild predators and the homestead. Unlike guns, dogs cull prey by fitness.

Fishing for trees

Aquaculture is the last chance to recover soil before erosion sweeps it onto the ocean floor where light can no longer reach it. Time to get aggressive.
Fish are basically omnivorous, so fisherman naturally perform apex predation by simply tossing back the smaller ones. This excludes traps that catch and kill small fish indiscriminately. As long as the small fry and seabed are left unmolested, there is no danger of overfishing. The ocean is always getting more nutrient-rich soil, and planting trees only adds more.
Changing the local ratio of big to small fish does little harm to the ecosystem (starving whales are a distant issue to homesteaders). Human hunting of land animals is much more detrimental. Eat the fish, keep the scraps and plant trees with them.
Should one channel and divert water for aquaculture? I don't think so. Let the trees grab as much water as they can. Then the beavers can build dams out of them, if they manage to dodge the coyotes. Stocking ponds is certainly helpful, like planting trees. There is no need to feed the fish, however. Let the forest do that.

Apex warden

How should a warden hunt land animals? By acting as an apex warden.
Predators cull prey, preventing them from over-grazing the plants. Old and sickly animals are caught before they can be colonized by parasites and disease. Remove predators, and herbivore population explodes, overgrazing plants before succumbing to starvation and disease.
Apex predators sit at the top of the food chain. Apex predators in North America include cougars, bears and wolves. A warden's job is to cull sickly apex predators to preserve their fitness. Threatening humans is presumptive evidence of sickliness. The fur is good even if the meat isn't. The carcass can be used for dog food.
One can build various shelters that benefit wildlife, from birdhouses to lean-tos. Dugouts are prone to damp, but that no longer matters once the ground freezes. These shelters can be lifesaving for human and animal alike. Knowing the location of dens makes it easier to cull the sick and starving, whether carnivore or herbivore. It is also a good way to make friends with the gentler local wildlife, who will not refuse a winter treat.
Similarly, trees suffering infestation should be cut down and hauled off for wood. Trees are the "apex predators" of the plant world, which is a quiet war for sunshine and soil. Trees that offer nothing useful to humans are candidates for firewood.

Cult of trees

Woodland Indians practiced forestry (for subsistence not lumber), and I suspect woodland Europeans did the same. It's definitely a lifestyle, but adding some spirituality helps it self-perpetuate.
Treehuggers are nuttier than squirrels, and I'm no exception. Still, I think it would make a good religion. How about we call it Anastasianism?
While I do not identify as a tree, I do feel a kinship with birds. Planting a forest gives our feathered friends a home. When you die, would you rather have a forest or a 401k?

• The Spirit Song - A Nordic Lullaby - Dimmornas visa YouTube
• Wardruna - Kvitravn (White Raven) - Official music video YouTube

Exit event

While living off the land is fun, don't expect to turn a profit. Monetization happens when the property is sold after the value has increased through reforestation. By documenting the delights of the property while living on it, you increase both the price and the odds that someone who loves forest will move in. Why shouldn't a plot of land have a social media account?
If you like the neighborhood, no need to move far. There's always another patch of forest to plant. Alternatively, you can retire on your patch of paradise.

Conclusion

Reforestation and childrearing are the proper primary goals of homesteading. The rest is just lifestyle and capital appreciation. Learn the land, document it, improve it, repeat. The whole process builds towards the sale. Buy enough land that you won't get bored, but not so much it's overwhelming.
Here are the lines from my journal that prompted this crazy essay:
Must grow the forest. Home of the birds. [Nord home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ayQk0HSTtY). How to make the desert bloom? March the forest towards it. The [cedars of Lebanon](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cedars\_of\_God) can shade the Sahara.
The Ent's Marching Song (Without Narration) - Clamavi De Profundis YouTube
Ironically, r /Forestry is mostly hostile to this idea, regarding it as fantasy. They are focused on commercial timber. Nothing wrong with a red neck, but it does come with some understandable hostility to treehuggers. If hippies wanted to help, they could set up their own permaculture forest homestead instead of spiking trees or whatever.
Apparently "food forests" are already a thing on r /SelfSufficiency:

• I just found this subreddit, allow me to link my edible forest made from 100% waste materials, and more.
• Learn these Propagating techniques! You will save tons of money growing your food forest. It almost feels like cheating.
• Woman creates self sufficient permaculture food forest within 4 years

Hail Sylvanus.
Sylvanus, God of Forests Magic the Gathering

Discussion

HutchK18 Interesting. I'm currently about 90%+ aligned with this… I think. I'll need to reread again later. And eventually maybe a 3rd time. I myself have 6 kids, and recently bought some raw mostly forested land. I've been planting hardwood trees and doing other stuff. I recently put in a stone road, planted an orchard (125 fruit trees… crab, apple, peach, pear, plum, cherry, mulberry, hazelnut, butternut, etc), built a pond and stocked it (bluegill, largemouth bass, redear sunfish, channel cats, forage minnows), and a 2,500 tree pine forest. This Fall I'm putting in a few acres of a pollinator planting fir the bees, butterflies, etc). Next Spring I'll be putting in a wetland, and vernal pools. At that point I'll have a creek, pond, wetland and numerous springs / seeps for water. Eventually Ill be digging a deep well. Then I'm thinking I'd like to set aside a few acres of the lower fields that have the good soil aside to start "farming" for food. I'm aligned with doing things like the Amish. I grew up in a large Amish community, and really appreciate their family culture and farming practices. They don't get it all right… but do a lot right. I view all this more of a lifestyle, and not a religion. As you mentioned, I'm semi-retired, working remotely for some $$$. I'm doing this "forestry" as a hobby because I really enjoy it.

Sounds like you're living the dream. That's a good point: Lowlands that receive surplus soil from erosion are naturally suited for intensive farming cycled with grazing and lying fallow. This slots a big piece of the puzzle for me, thanks.
Wells are great too; the water isn't doing anything sitting in the aquifer.
I've read that the woodland Indians practiced forestry (for subsistence not lumber), and I suspect woodland Europeans did the same. It's definitely a lifestyle, but adding some spirituality helps it self-perpetuate. Great to see someone continuing the lifestyle!

HutchK18 Maybe my post is in the wrong Reddit thread/section. My goal is not strictly forestry. And no, it's not to make money… I'm too old. Maybe my kids/grandkids will reap a little profit? I worked with the local county SWC office, who developed the plans based on my overall goal. This is a "long term" effort. All the "projects" qualify for cost share through the EQIP program. I have a local Land Management company to implement these plans. I'm clearly putting in a lot more money to "manage" the land than I'll ever reap in my lifetime. Again, my goal is NOT strictly lumber production, although that's part it. Although no trees will likely be cut in my lifetime. The goal is overall environmental improvement of the land for some future income, and wildlife benefit. I'm not sure why all down votes? Geesh, what a rough crowd.

Wow, great suggestion to cooperate with government conservation programs! Thanks :)

HutchK18 Always check with the county ag services when doing anything like this. There is almost always tax benefits and cost share opportunities. I've had a biologist, forester, and various other government employees out at no cost to me. They've help guide me as well as 1) conducted soil samples, 2) developed a woodland management plan, 3) developed a wildlife management plan, and 4) developed a wetland engineering plan… all at no cost to me. Plus they provide stuff such as a tree planter… again at no cost to me. I've still got to supply the labor to run it, but the use of the equipment is free. Look up EQIP (Environmental Quality Improvement Program) to get an idea on what cost share opportunities there are. Plus, get your land CAUV (Current Agriculture Use Value) designated for a tax break.

Lol, you've got the brain trust begging to play.

HutchK18 This essay speaks to me. I'm onboard with everything except the "tree hugger religion". I'm against that. I was deep into that side (member of all the big name groups… Sierra Club, Greenpeace, Nature Conservancy, etc…). Then I realized many of these have, to various degrees, a "no use" philosophy at their core. They view humans as some kind of parasite on this planet. My philosophy is one of "wise use". I'm not afraid to cut down a tree if I need to. This is our home planet. Nature is very capable of supporting us. But having said that, if we misbehave too much, we may not like how nature responds. But we are NOT parasites. Again I believe in "wise use".

Thanks! I agree, the environmentalists can get a little crazy. Druids gonna druid.

Hi! I am visiting Italy for the first time this April with friends and family. I am leaving a couple days for exploring outside with hiking, backpacking, etc. I wanted to see if anyone had recommendations for hiking during this time. I saw that weather may not be great enough at Dolomites. I am considering right now Cinque Terre and Gran Sasso. It also seems like it might be early in the season for hiking at Gran Sasso area near L'Aquila but hard to look up.
I am staying in Bologna and am flying out of Rome so anywhere spaced reasonably near these is ideal. I'd appreciate any recommendations and insight into how i can get the most out of the Italian outdoors.
Thanks!

Hey all:
I saw the post about how you should not apply to Tufts, so I thought I'd respond (in bold). I know decisions just came out, so some people are a bit salty. But just hear me out.
It's an overpriced, subpar joke of a college.
Yes, it's expensive, Yes, it's probably overpriced. However, it's not a "subpar joke of a college." The issue with statements like this is that many students think this about their own schools without ever experiencing other universities. As I'll get into in this response post, Tufts has plenty of valid criticism and negatives, but overall for the vast majority of students, Tufts is an amazing place that provides a top-tier education, community, and experience.
- Don't assume you're attending a Boston school. Tufts is in Medford/Somerville, and downtown Boston is 20-30 minutes away by car. You'll probably have the chance to visit proper Boston twice a month at best if you take a rigorous workload. We just got the green line, but that takes up to an hour to get you in town. 90% of your time here is spent in suburban hell. The most common sights around are chain link fences, dilapidated road signs, and ugly architecture.
Anyone actually researching Tufts before applying knows that Tufts is not in Boston. For most applying, this is actually a positive. Being 15-20 minutes outside downtown Boston by car (it's not 30m unless you're driving on Boston Marathon weekend lmao) allows Tufts to have a unique campus bubble/vibe while still being soooo close to Boston. You can drop everything and get into Boston within half an hour easy, if not less, via the new green-line T stop on campus or the older red-line T stop in Davis Square. When I was applying, and comparing Tufts, and BU, Northeastern, all of which I applied to and got accepted, the real campus, quads, and camaraderie it allows was a massive plus, not a negative.
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While I personally agree the Somerville / Medford architecture isn't particularly appealing, it's the definition of Boston/New England. Both Somerville and Medford (for those who don't know, these two towns/cities split Tufts down the middle and are the neighborhoods that Tufts is actually located in, not Boston) are extremely family friendly and safe.
- You share one gym and two small dining halls with 6000 students. Lunch lines can be 20-30 minutes long, and the food is shit compared to other colleges. Other dining options are overpriced and only two locations allow you to use meal swipes.
The gym issue is a valid criticism. Luckily for you all, Tufts is fundraising to build an entirely new aquatics center as we speak, and when that is completed, the gym will get a complete overhaul and expansion. I've heard this will be done in < 5 years.
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The dining hall lines were weirdly bad during COVID, but aren't at all anymore. It can get busy sometimes, particularly around dinner, but it's rarely bad. They're also working right now to renovate some dining services which should all be complete by next year. Hodgdon-Food-on-the-Run (Hodge), which offered like a Chipotle, Sweetgreen, and Cava equivalents (good these chains if you're unfamiliar) was very popular with students and often was very very crowded. This has just been closed temporarily for renovation and will be reopened in the fall. Also, the food is relatively good compared to other schools. I've tried quite a bit.
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Also, a clarification: Tufts has 2 full-form dining halls, but a handful more dining options.
- The school is heavily overenrolled. They barely have enough housing as is and are still looking to increase their freshmen class sizes. Chances are, you'll get put into modular housing with no community or dorm culture for your first year here. They've already taken down their tennis courts for mod housing, and are planning to cannibalize some baseball fields too.
Tufts, like almost every other school during COVID, did overenroll and this did cause some housing issues. Luckily, they're correcting it now. Also, they're about to begin building a new upperclassmen dorm as we speak.
- Campus looks like shit most time of the year. During spring and summer, it looks fine with some green, but 80% of the buildings are just prefabricated houses they bought up around the neighborhood. Trust me, this will get your mood down, especially during the winter months.
Welcome to New England, and Boston specifically. This wouldn't change for any school in the area.
- The Medford campus does not have a proper health center. For any serious ilness or injury you'd have to uber to off-campus clinics 20-30 minutes away. The on-campus wellness center is just a house that doesn't even open on weekends. Mental health services are so overbooked that getting a therapy session can take two weeks. Again, it's because the school is heavily over-enrolled.
While somewhat true, this is also misleading. For almost any school, if you have a serious injury you will end up at a hospital, not your schools health services. That being said, Tufts has a lab on campus and can do any STD test (etc) here. They also have plenty of partner hospitals that they can help get you appointments with. It's a good thing Boston houses some of the best hospitals in the world then, huh. I've had no problem scheduling appointments, even for the next day.
- The hill is annoying AF to walk over every day. It's cool at first, but you soon realize how much of a nuisance it is to walk up and down a hill to go to classes and return to dorms, especially during the winter when the roads are frozen.
It's a hill. It's a unique thing about our campus. Yeah, it 'sucks,' but it's also only 30 seconds to get to the top. The fact that the hill is the largest complaint for Tufts student should be a resounding positive about our community, classes, professors, and quality of life.
- Party scene is depressing. (not a problem for me personally, but if you like to party, might wanna watch out).
Yeah, kinda true. We aren't University of Alabama. If you want parties, you can find them easily. Will they be 4000 person ragers? No. Can they be fun? Absolutely. I don't think anyone if applying or matriculating here because of the party scene, though.
All of this for the grand total of 80k a year. You're paying almost double the price of Harvard, for a quarter of the quality.
Yeah, so the Harvard comment isn't true at all. I know you clarified in the original post that you were talking about aid, but I know plenty of students here personally on financial aid with very good packages...and 1-2 actually compared it to fin aid offered by Harvard and chose to come here purely on financial reasons.
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I'll add something that I put in my comment of that post as well:
What’s not mentioned is the the students here are all incredibly nice and amicable. I just went on spring break w 7 friends to Barcelona (got tickets hella cheap in September) and all of my other friends from HS who I still regularly talk to and not having anywhere near as a good of an experience as I am. Just like every school there are plenty of good things and plenty of bad. It’s a damn hard school to get into, and many of the students here are super smart. Overall, my experience here is very positive despite a handful of legitimate criticisms and negatives, and I know I am having a much better time than at least ten friends from HS at a variety of other universities.
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Also since this is this subreddit, I’d like to add that tufts admissions refuses to supply us news with some specific information about their students like gender identity etc. Regardless of your politics or what you think of this, this is partially why tufts has been slipping in the rankings (like Columbia or reed college historically)
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TLDR: Do I think Tufts has issues? Yes. Do I think the University could do much more to fix/combat these? Yes. Is Tufts a perfect ideal experience? No. Do I enjoy my net-experience at Tufts? Yes. Do I enjoy Tufts more than 10+ of my HS friends enjoy their respective schools? A resounding yes. Does part of the Tufts campus/surrounding architecture suck? Yes, welcome to New England (if New England architecture isn't your cup of tea like it isn't mine). Is part of Tufts' campus pretty, especially during warmer months or after recent snow? Yes. Does the weather normally suck? Yea, duh (Again, welcome to New England...although I will note it's much more tame than I was told).
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Do I love it? Yes. APPLY! <3
Feel free to DM me any questions.

They come back every year. I can recall multiple points in my childhood where I heard them honking in the wee hours of the morning, causing calamities that woke me up far earlier than I would’ve preferred. Every single winter they return, but this year has been different.
Geese are terrible people, and they’re actually not even people, which makes them even worse. One core, traumatic memory of being chased down by one as a child and sobbing hysterically was all it took for me to develop a lifelong distrust of the feathery demons. It seems so needlessly cruel to have what is essentially a long-necked chicken have the temperament of a damn lycanthrope. Their beady little black eyes seem like bottomless pits of spite, and the fact they actually have teeth on their tongues is something I don’t think I can ever forgive God for.
My father still lives in my childhood home, but me and my siblings are all moved out. He’s older now and has some difficulties with mobility so I stop by pretty often to help out where I can. Ever since mom passed, he’s been there alone with his faithful Labrador retriever; Brody, and although he greatly values his independence it’s getting more and more difficult for him to live alone as the years go on.
Me and my older brother: Eric routinely switch-off helping him with tasks around the house that may be a risk to him. Typically, it’s things like cleaning out the gutters, trimming tree branches and simple maintenance on his vehicles, mostly just things I’d rather a 73-year-old man not try and do alone.
Last week I went out to help him with some chores. My brother Eric was supposed to meet my there but he got roped in to his kids’ parent-teacher conferences so I met dad alone. It was just past noon when I met dad out at his house. He and I grilled some burgers and chatted about things for a while before we began on the tasks.
A recent snowfall had damaged some of the trees on the back of his property, and so he wanted to chop them down before they fell onto his shed. He and I grabbed some handsaws and an axe and began systemically pruning the aspens.
We soon determined there were about 3 trees total which we needed to remove. I climbed the ladder and began sawing off some of the upper branches as dad steadied it from down below. Things were going well until a sudden familiar and foreboding ruckus emerged in the distance. I lowered the chainsaw and killed the motor as I spied the flock soar overhead and land in the back pasture.
“Damn birds been ruining that back field. More goose shit than grass back there at this point.” Dad spat as he said it, clearly annoyed by the return of the unwelcome visitors.
“You need some scarecrows or something.” I replied.
“I tried that, damn things have no fear of people anymore though so it didn’t do a damn thing.”
I suppose it’s also important to mention that we live in Canada, and the Canadian goose is our national bird. INB4 comments saying how you should shoot them which unfortunately is not an option. Not only because firearms are severely restricted here, but also because killing a Canadian goose can get you hefty fines and potentially land you in prison.
In America, you guys have the bald eagle, which is cool. They are rare, imposing, beautiful and majestic. You remember the day you see one, and maybe even sing the national anthem or something when you do.
Geese are not like that, and I doubt anyone has ever been happy to see one. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been on my way to work when traffic suddenly just comes to a complete standstill because a few geese decided to casually meander onto the highway. We have made them a protected class, and they know it. The rest of us are lowly peasants when compared to our avian overlords, and Canada remains under the tyranny of the goose forevermore.
“Then there’s the red one.” He spoke it suddenly as though reflecting upon an old foe resurfacing.
“The red one?” Dad nodded and his eyes narrowed on me.
“You’re gonna laugh at me I know, but son, I swear I’ve seen it. A goose as tall as a man, feathers a deep blood red color” He paused and glanced out towards the trees as a gust rolled through the landscape.
“Something ain’t right with it.”
Contrary to dad’s prediction, I didn’t laugh: I didn’t know how to react. I thought he was just messing with me, but there was a deadly serious cadence in his voice. It probably sounds ridiculous to anyone reading, but something about the sincerity in his voice made me take pause.
My father is not a guy that scares easy. Never seen him shed a tear, and never seen him back down from an altercation. A man as stubborn as he is stalwart, and making up tales was never something he seemed particularly good at.
“How often do you see it?”
“Every once in a while… ain’t seen it for some time now, but I know it’s always out there… watching.” He let that ominous phrase just sort of hang in the air unelaborated. It still seemed a bit ridiculous, but clearly he was affected by it.
“You got a slingshot or something?” Dad shook his head down below as he stared contemptuously out at the flock. He didn’t reply, and since it seemed to be genuinely bothering him I decided to do something stupid about it. I climbed down the ladder as he glanced at me side-eyed.
“Where you goin?”
“Birdwatching.” I was already entering the tree line as I called back. A menagerie of branches and leaves split apart as I trudged my way towards them. They all continued peacefully grazing and loitering as I made my approach unseen.
I breached the other side of the tree line and stepped out into the field. The flagrant faction of fowl barely even seemed to notice my arrival. I grabbed a decent sized stick laying on the ground and sauntered out towards them.
“Hey… get outta here!” A few of them turned to look at me, but still seemed woefully unbothered by my display.
“GIT!” I shouted the words at the top of my lungs and began waving the stick back and forth. I was met with a chorus of angered honks as the gaggled fluttered into a frenzy. One by one they leapt into the air and began flying off in various directions.
One of them divebombed directly towards me, but I managed to duck aside as it flew past. Fearing their retaliation, I clutched my stick and prepared myself for battle, but thankfully they continued flying off and resuming their formation in the sky above. Seconds later they were soaring away from the property, hopefully never to return, but I knew I wasn’t that lucky or intimidating.
Once they were beyond the trees, I turned back, but something caught my eye as I turned away. On the ground where they had gathered, something was laying in the muck. I walked towards it, and I froze midstride as the macabre realization struck like thunder.
“Atta boy son, you must be a goose whisperer or something.” Dad chuckled as he and Brody approached from behind me. I just turned back and stared at him, and his expression contorted as he noticed mine.
“What is it?” I just pointed at it. Dad approached gingerly, and as he reached my side he too seemed taken aback.
“Is that what I think it is?” Dad ignored the question and moved in for a closer look. As he knelt down, he grunted and cleared his throat.
“Well, if you think it’s a severed human arm then I think you’re right.”
The two of us hurried back inside his house and dialed 911. The police showed up about an hour later and we escorted them back to where we’d found it. Not long after they had an entire array of workers, technicians and people sectioning off the area. They spent hours combing through the vicinity, and the longer it went on the worse it got.
Dad and I watched as they removed a body bag for the remains we’d found, then another, and another. In total we counted six separate bags of what we assumed were human remains. The initial search area widened to encompass a large chunk of the back field. They didn’t tell us much about it as they worked though, and so the two of us could only speculate as we watched from dad’s porch.
Eventually I was taken down to the police station as a few other cops remained with dad at his house. They interrogated me once we got to the station, and I told them pretty much everything I’ve written here. Obviously, they were skeptical, and I don’t even blame them for eying me suspiciously. Not a whole lot of it made much sense to me either, but I didn’t know what else to say to help them.
They eventually seemed to clear me of any wrongdoing and so took me back to my father’s house. They then took my father to conduct the same interview on him. It was getting late in the day by then, and although I thought about going home, I felt it was better for me to stay there and await dad’s return.
As I waited, I did some more research online. Apparently Geese- despite their aggressive tendencies and fierce attributes are mostly vegetarian. They do eat insects and fish from time to time, but usually just graze on plants. The fact that several of them had blood spackles on their down would seemingly indicate that the group had been eating the arm, and possibly the rest of the remains in the field. As far as I can tell, there’s never been any reports of geese eating humans or even scavenging on their remains.
It was nearly midnight by the time the officers ferried my father back home. He sauntered inside, clearly worn out from the bizarre day. He slumped onto the couch as the lead officer gestured me to join him outside.
“Thank you for your and your father’s cooperation today. I know this is a very odd and worrying situation, but we’re going to get to the bottom of it. Our crew may be out here for awhile while the investigation concludes, but we’ll try our best to stay out of you and your father’s way. Please feel free to call if you discover or learn anything you think we should know.” He held out his card and I nodded back. He and his partner then exited the home and made their way back to the cruiser. The rest of their team seemed to be packing it in for the night as well, so I returned to dad.
He was seated on his weathered living room chair with Brody stationed valiantly at his feet. He sipped from his whiskey glass as I went and sat on the opposing couch.
“Well… can’t say this is how I was expecting today to go.” I spoke with a chuckle and dad nodded back with an affirming grunt.
“You can say that again. Over thirty years I’ve lived on this damn property, and I’ve never seen anything like this happen.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
“Well, I’d sure hope not, geese don’t even usually eat meat apparently.” I prattled off the fact I’d read previous from Google. Dad scoffed as his head slowly swiveled side to side.
“Apparently these ones do.” He glanced silently out the living room window, and towards the back field where the grisly discovery had been made. The two of us sat in silence for a moment as we contemplated the overwhelming day.
We chatted for a few more minutes but soon decided to call it a night as we were both exhausted. Dad told me I could stay the night there and I happily obliged as I was already near unconscious on his living room couch. After wrapping myself in his spare comforter I was out, but it did not last.
The intrusive sounds of aggressive barking stirred me from a deep sleep. Suddenly I felt a cold chill seep into my bones. I stirred from slumber, shivering as a cold chill descended my spine and a fuzzy form began nuzzling against me. It was dark with only the moonlight beaming in from outside the house, but I recognized the barks and blurry outline of Brody beside me.
He began whining and licking my face franticly as my eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. I patted his head and back as I tried getting him to calm down, but he seemed really riled up for some reason. The couch I’d been sleeping on sat below the front window and from my vantage point I couldn’t see the front door. As I sat up, and turned to the side I froze stiff.
The front door was wide open.
With a stark fright I jolted to my feet and backed away, confused and trying desperately to adjust my eyes to the shadows and quell my racing heart. Brody continued whining and barking as he stared out into the dark night.
I found my coat and approached the door, but it showed no signs of forced entry. I could only assume my dad had been the one to open it. On tiptoes I snuck to pier out the door, but found nothing but the empty yard and night sky.
Quickly I rushed down the hall to my father’s room, but as expected he wasn’t in there. I couldn’t imagine what would possibly possess him to venture out in the middle of the night alone, but I knew it wasn’t good. As I ventured back to the front door, I felt a true dread seep into the very cortex of my being. Nothing within me wanted to go out there, but I knew I couldn’t leave my father.
The cold breeze struck my skin like needles as I stepped out and shut the door behind me. Brody was still going ballistic inside especially with the door shut, but I didn’t want him to run off and figured leaving him there was the safer option.
I scanned the area around me but saw no sign of anyone or anything. Dad’s old Chevy sat derelict on his driveway along with my Subaru, both of them untouched aside from a thin layer of snow. I thought about calling out his name, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Back on the side of the house I spied a shovel leaning against the wall and so I took it with me.
We’d gotten a bit of snow as we slept, and in the yard, I spied I clear line of footprints leading out from the door and back around the side of the house. As I followed them my feet crunched in the snow which sounded like the crashing of thunder when contrasted with the silent night. My hairs stood on end and my hands shook wildly as I clutched the shovel tight.
The footprints led directly from the front of the house to the back grove where we’d made the macabre discovery earlier that day. Moments later I reached the tree line, but still didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. My father’s footprints vanished into the trees, and I just hoped he hadn’t wandered too far.
Branches scraped against me as I made my way deeper inside the grove. Still I heard and saw nothing out of the ordinary even as I approached the other side where the sectioned-off field was located. `As I breached the edge of the trees, I spotted something up ahead. It was laying near one of the fresh pits the police had been excavating, and after a few seconds I finally realized what it was.
“Dad? Dad are you okay?” I spoke the words in a shouted whisper as I snuck over towards him. He wasn’t moving, and as I got near him my heart sunk as I beheld his condition. His jacket was shredded all over, like someone had haphazardly slashed at him with a razorblade.
Once at his side I found him scratched up and unconscious, but clearly still alive. As I jostled his shoulder he slowly came around and opened his eyes. Suddenly his eyes sprung wide and he lurched upward as he furiously glanced around the area.
“Dad it’s okay… it’s just me.” He didn’t respond, and despite my protest he hobbled back to his feet as he panted heavily.
“What the hell happened? Why are you out here?”
“It’s here… I saw it.” He then groaned and collapsed back to his knees as his face contorted into an agonized grimace. I then saw that his leg was stained red and torn up pretty bad. He clutched it as he slumped down and I moved to assist him.
“We gotta get out of here son.” As I began trying to hoist him back to his feet, a sudden noise pierced the mute night air. An odd raspy sort of bugling noise. It was a weird sound that I didn’t recognize, but it definitely sounded like some kind of animal had made it.
Dad was glancing around franticly trying to see something, but he wouldn’t say anything. His leg was lacerated, and he couldn’t stand on it anymore so as such I ended up just basically dragging him back towards the tree line.
The morose screech we’d heard previous roared out once more, but this time it sounded like it was coming from above us. As I averted my eyes upward, I saw the fleeting form of a large shadow soar beyond the trees. The leaves on the top swayed from the wind of it passing, and clearly it was big, much bigger than any bird or flying creature I’ve ever seen.
“Shit… it’s coming back.” Dad turned and did what he could to try and hobble to the trees. The two of us continued awkwardly stumbling like a pair of drunken baboons until finally reaching the tree line. The moment we stepped inside it, I heard it descend onto the field.
From the shadows we peered out, seeing a large, bipedal creature towering in the field. It stood tall on long, lanky legs. It’s head was suspended upon an elongated neck, and bulbous black eyes stared unblinking back towards us.
My first thought upon seeing it was that it looked like a damn pterodactyl, but it was even stranger than that. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing, but it looked like an enormous goose. That freak of nature had to have stood at least 6 feet tall, with a wingspan probably double that. It’s body was an eerie crimson color much as dad had claimed, and the moonlight beaming down seemed to give it an almost ethereal presence.
It just stood there staring back at us for a long, tense moment of uncomfortable silence. It’s unblinking obsidian eyes seemed to gleam with a rampant sense of primal hunger. Something about it’s gaze was deeply disturbing. It seemed predatory, and of course everything about the situation seemed to reassert that notion. There was something even more than that though, but I couldn’t quite place it.
Dad and I continued backtracking through the woods as best we were able, trying to keep an eye on the fiend as well as get back to the house quickly. We failed the former in mere minutes as the sight of the bird disappeared behind the foliage of the woods. Dad’s leg was pretty mangled, and although it was causing him obvious pain he continued pushing on as I clutched him by the shoulder.
The sight of the house returned as we broke through the other side of the woods. Things were eerily quiet, with no sign of the feathered thing anywhere. The two of us took a moment to inspect the vicinity as we planned our move. I stepped towards the edge of the trees when dad reached a hand out to stop me.
“It’s still out there… it’s waiting for us to leave the woods.” Dad whispered the words as he slumped back against a tree.
“Well, we have to go out there… your legs still bleeding… you need stiches.” Dad grunted and shook his head.
“Trust me… if that thing catches you in the open it’s not gonna be good.” I just threw my hands up then.
“Dad we have to do something, we can’t just sit here.” I pulled my phone out once more, but of course as expected I had no service. Dad’s house was about five kilometers away from the city, and I never got any cell phone coverage there. Dad didn’t have his cellphone on him either, and as such our options were rather limited.
The two of us took a moment to try and bandage his leg as best we could. I took my belt off and applied a tourniquet on his thigh to hopefully stifle the bleeding, and dad tore off the dangling fabric on his jeans to try and wrap up the wound.
As we worked, we heard the sounds of distant honks approaching. A few minutes later and a flock of geese then descended from the night sky and landed around dad’s house. Once they touched down they fell silent, dispersing throughout the yard as though they were on patrol. There was no sign of the big one, but both of us knew it was still out there.
The chill of the night had become a serious problem by then, and both of us felt the cold gnawing against us relentlessly. My teeth chattered in my mouth, and the materials of my clothing proved simply too thin against the frigid night air. We needed to get inside or get away, lest we face serious risk from hypothermia.
I clutched my shovel tight, as dad grabbed some large sticks and filled our pockets with small rocks. At the last second, I told dad to just wait there as I tried to get back to the house. He protested, but both of us knew that with his wounded leg he would be a sitting duck if we got attacked. I had a better chance of going in alone.
I tiptoed out from the woods as dad watched with baited breath from the trees. The eyes of the flock bore down upon me like an oppressive heat, uncomfortable and foreboding. As I reached the halfway point between the woods and the house the flock erupted into a calamity of anger honks. They began to furiously beat their wings and ascend into the air, and I just booked it to the house.
I reached the front door at the same moment one of the geese reached me. It hovered and pecked angrily at me, tearing my coat with it’s beak and slashing against me with it’s feet. Just in case any Canadian authorities are reading this: I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT HARM ANY GEESE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.
Somehow (and through entirely legal means) I managed to open the door and slip inside just as the flock slammed into the wall behind me. Brody was barking wildly and licking at my torso as I took a moment to gather my breath. I took a few more moments to calm him down as the frenzied flock outside seemed to calm down a bit. Suddenly there was a large thud on the roof, and my heart dropped. A low gurgling, sort of droning noise became audible above as the rest of the geese fell into a dead silence.
I knew it was that thing again, and turned my attention to find dad’s phone and the car keys. I managed the latter quite quickly, but the former eluded me. After several minutes I all but abandoned the search and formulated a new plan. As I glanced out the window, I spied dad at the edge of the trees. I knew his situation was growing evermore dire by the moment, and I had to do something radical.
Brody remained at my side, a silent resolve seeming to swirl in his dark brown eyes. I took a moment to pet him, and whisper words of encouragement to the good boy. It almost made me tear up how loyal and ready for battle he appeared to be. He knew his owner was in danger, and he was ready to face the darkness. His unwavering courage inspired me, and I whispered to him.
“You’re a good boy Brody, let’s try not to die.”
As I grasped the door handle, something struck the window beside me. Shattering glass exploded into the living room as a goose flailed into the room. It landed with a thump, but quickly rose and ascended into the air honking and screeching furiously. Brody snarled and lunged at it, causing it to back away.
I figured that was the signal it was time to go, and so I flung open the door and beckoned Brody to follow. Together the two of us rushed from the house and towards dad’s truck in the driveway. A sudden surge of angered honks thundered out behind us, with one bellowing cry that dwarfed them all.
I reached the truck and picked up Brody to usher him inside. The engine roared to life as the geese began accosting the outside of the truck. They seemed to have no regard for their own wellbeing as they body-slammed into the chassis again and again.
I put it into drive and floored it towards the trees. Dad then emerged, staggering out from the woods and towards the passenger door. Before he could reach it though, a scarlet shadow descended from the heavens. It slammed down upon him, wailing and lashing out at him.
Brody and I hopped out the other side and pressed our assault. The red beast had dad in the fetal position down below him. Slashing with it’s talons and biting at his torso. With little other ideas I simply lunged at it, latching my arms around it and trying to bear-hug it away from him. Brody lunged and chomped down on it’s ankle as the beast howled.
It was strong, much stronger than I anticipated. It managed to simply toss me off of it and send me plummeting to the ground. It kicked it’s leg and knocked Brody back as dad managed to regain his footing behind it. It then extended it’s wings out with an angered screech. It’s tone like that of a goose distorted through a megaphone and pitched down several octaves.
I then beheld it’s full, horrific form. The thing’s eyes were haunting, like swirling pools of chemicals glinting in the sun. They were comprised of a multitude of colors which under any other circumstance might even be considered beautiful. They didn’t even look like eyes, and it made me realize this thing was no mere animal.
It towered over me, it’s feathers rippling in the cold breeze. Dad managed to clamber inside the truck behind it as Brody and I faced down the thing. Suddenly a torrent of geese descended upon us, and all semblance of order was lost. It’s hard to describe what even happened in the following moments, but it essentially involved me hardcore dancing my way through the swarming birds. By some miracle both I and Brody managed to enter the truck, thanks in no small part to dad flinging rocks out from the passenger side.
Once all three of us were in I put the truck in drive and gunned it out of there. The red one continued to pursue us down the road, slamming down into the truck 3 separate times. With each hit I swerved and nearly lost control, but somehow managed to maintain the course. Mercifully the beast and it’s cohorts eventually seemed to call off the onslaught, and we all breathed a huge sigh of relief.
I had scratches and cuts all over my body and both dad and Brody were pretty beat up as well. Thankfully, none of us appeared too badly injured, and we managed to reach the hospital a little while later.
Dad and I checked in with Brody accompanying us inside. They of course asked us what had happened as we got into the ICU, but all we could really tell them was that we were attacked by some animals. They of course wanted to know which animals in particular, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to tell them. They wouldn’t have believed us anyways.
They got us disinfected which hurt like hell, and stitched-up not long after. They ran us through the gamete of bloodwork, but thankfully they all came back negative including for rabies which was the primary concern. I was exhausted from the entire event, and fell deep into sleep as the sun began to rise outside.
I awoke a few hours later to find the police chief there awaiting me; the same guy in charge of investigating the grim discovery on dad’s property. He was of course curious about what the hell had happened, but I just laughed. I told him it’d be easier for me to just write it out, and that’s exactly what I’ve done here with this document.
The rest of this was not given to the police, but I wanted to add a few more things. Of course, they are skeptical about mine and my father’s accounts, and of course when they returned to our property the geese were nowhere to be found.
They may have locked us up in the loony bin were it not for the damage to my father’s truck and house, as well as my Subaru being covered in goose shit. That part just made me laugh, and it’s almost like the flock just wanted to send me one last middle finger for escaping their fury. One of the piles of stool was unlike the others though, and they got it into the lab for testing. We’ll see if anything comes of it, but I’m not holding my breath.
As for what the hell happened, that I do not know, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else does either. As mentioned, I’ve never seen any accounts of geese behaving like this, nor have I seen any creature or folklore that seems to match that red one.
There are wives’ tales around here about the so-called thunderbirds, and maybe that’s what it was. I just can’t ignore that unnerving feeling it gave me. Of course it was threatening in the sense that it could kill me, but there was also an underlying element to it. It was intelligent, and it’s odd, multi-colored eyes conveyed that beyond a shadow of a doubt. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know, but I just hope I never see it again.
Honestly, I was kind of annoyed that my dad had ventured out there in the middle of the night alone, and I had to ask him why he’d done it in the first place. His response might have been the most terrifying aspect of all of this.
“I heard someone crying. Sounded like a kid, but when I got out there all I found was that damn bird waiting for me. I think it was making the noise.”
Brody, my father and I are all doing fine now, but are obviously a little rattled from the experience. If anyone has any theories about this event then please feel free to share them. I fucking hate geese, and this event has firmly reinforced that belief for me. If you see them, maybe it’s best to just avoid them altogether. You never know what those feathery bastards are contemplating.

Hello Lovelies,
I am so happy to have finally found this lovely place here with you where we can share our crazies before our heads and hearts explode and render us useless in everyday life. Power to us!
A big part of the friends-to-lovers trope is the blindness and awkwardness during that transition. As Colin and Penelope seem to have invented the concept we keep groaning and wondering wether he does know about Pen's feelings (whose nature are the topic for another thread), doesn't know, doesn't want to know, actually knows but doesn't know that he knows - you get the picture.
Then we get mad at him for not being able to decipher her eyes and face blaringly publishing her true feelings.
It is a mess.
In order to redeem both of them and shed some light into the shadows I'd love to open up a discussion about the nature of Love and where better to start than in Grease lovely Greece.
The old greek philosophical schools had a lot to say about love, the general idea was that there are different kinds of love. They differenciated between the following (pls don't kill me if I simplify too much):
Eros: the big one, the passionate one with physical attraction and manifestation that consumes you.
Philia: Love between friends on an intellectual level. It is a meeting of the minds between people with similar ideas and shared interests.
Agape: the purest and highest form of Love. Love without expectations and the inherent willingness to sacrifice oneself for everyone, friends and enemies alike.
Storge: Love within the family and between persons that trust each other deeply, like in good parent- child relationships.
Ludus: the playful kind of love which centers on fun, flirt and enjoyment.
Pragma: the rational and life long aspekt of love that will weather the bad times that will happen in every relationship sooner ( but often later)
Philautia: the healthy version of love for oneself.
Now, every time I read about our OTP's situation I always stumble about the missing explanation why they love or should love each other. How do we know? What can we see and deduct from their actions? Too often people have different concepts of Love in their minds and judge our pair by these expectations. They simply claim and that's it.
I cordially invite you to analyse Polin's Lovestory from s1e1 up to date within the greek system. Feel free to oil your way in anytime.
My take for the present is that at least Colin does not experience Eros so far. He feels Philia and Storge for Pen and the Storge part is why he is behaving so inappropriately without getting the problem in the first place. LN said something along the lines that they met quite young. He suffers from missing Philautia and keeps up an act for everyone beside Pen. I have seen a few situation of Ludus on his side so far ('what a barb') and one single instance of Pragma ('I will always look after you'). The dance in s2e8 was Eros, but the poor drunken sod would not have recognized it for what it was even if there had been a neon sign for him. Fife and Pen did.
He knows that Pen loves him, but he labels it Storge and Philia. Pen never told him, very seldomly flirted, he has no other markers. He knows she loves him and basks in it. He loves her back, but not erotically yet.
He needs to find Philautia, and between s2 sad drunken sod and Pirate Cowboy Colin he seems to have done leaps.
Pen shows Eros (who wouldn't), some Agape and little Storge. She is willing to sacrifice herself for what she thinks is best for him, and while she has little Storge in her own home it gets fuzzy here.
Marina was necessary to change her juvenile infatuation into scarred Storge. While I really hate to see Pen suffer Marina only speaks the toughest truths to her. She had to get this adoration-like infatuation taken down. One clay foot of God!Colin already down. Another to go (went down in the garden in a mad and wild fantasy). I think she has Philautia in spades, LW is proof. Everything Colin said in Storge she understood in Eros.
And now the stage is set for all these kinds of Love and lots and lots of Eros. (Netflix and Shonda, we love you.)
Now you please!

Hi guys, I'm aware these are all very different cars, I'm hoping someone has some experience with one or a few to give me some pros and cons.
I am looking for something manual and fun to drive back and forth to work occasionally and on weekends. I have a beater that I try to drive most of the time so inclement weather isn't a big deal since I can normally take the old fwd sleigh.
I am 27, so I'd like to get my midlife crisis car out of the way before I start thinking about boring things like a family, kids, and CNN.
Which is the best and most fair deal?

Well, there's not much to say for this meeting. There's a varied assortment of snacks, as usual, along with a couple packs of hot cocoa powder and some teabags, some hot water, some cups, and most marshmallows. With the oddly cold weather and all, Iris thought it might be nice to have a hot drink or two.
" So, not much to say here, other than I'd like to welcome Asta Roberts to the cabin. I also just want to remind you guys that we've got to be prepared for cabin inspections. I know it was kinda chaotic last time, and I think we can do better. That's it for today, so I guess you guys are free to go."

Weather been ruff in Tahoe this winter, my VB clearly doesn't have enough clearance for frozen tire track created continuous ice berms in the middle of the road.
Just clinching my teeth while scraping the whole underbody more times I want to remember.
These "rally" inspired vehicles should come with at least 1.5 inch if not more clearance from factory. Lucky folks in flat flat areas with great roads would drop theirs anyway..
So was a no brainier went ahead and purchased an LP 2" lift kit. Was holding on it for a few weeks waiting to see if I can dissolve my concerns about installing said lift kit and the potential for warranty arguments coming from it down the line.. Especially with this new generation.
Do you have opinion on this? I'd be glad to hear the community weigh in.
Any comment is appreciated.
Thanks!

I work from home and have been mostly cooped up for the winter. Obviously looking ahead to nicer weather as far as the outdoor part of the title. Not searching for anything permanent like a coworking space, just trying to mix it up here and there.
Seeking any suggestions beyond the usual SPoT Coffee and Starbucks hangouts for sitting down and working at a laptop. Doesn't necessarily need to have good WiFi as I can use my phone hotspot.
Outdoors in the shade, maybe near the water would be great, though I'm open to all recommendations. I would go work in Forest Lawn Cemetery if they had picnic tables in there LOL.
​

• Riverworks was my first thought, but can I just sit down at one of the small tables outside without being seated and ordering food/drinks or are they going to kick me out? Can I go there outside of business hours or is it closed off? For example https://i.imgur.com/wzYKUKD.jpg
• Sahlen Field: somewhat limited option because it relies on early games and I'd have to buy tickets, but can I bring a laptop in there?
• Shady picnic table under a tree at one of the beaches or parks?
• Libraries?

​
I feel like I'm probably missing some obvious places, so any suggestions would be appreciated!

Hi! Would like to get your recos! I'd like to live outside Manila for a few months.
I have a remote job so priority is internet. - stable internet - good data signal (as backup) - cheap cost of living - walkable streets - cafes and restos nearby - with a body of water nearby (beach, lake, falls etc) extra: can go skinny-dipping lol - no power outages, if possible - little social life (bonus if with digital nomad community) - basta not too hot weather
Other places I really enjoyed outside PH - Da Nang, Chiang Mai, Vang Vieng

Hi! Would like to get your recos! I'd like to live outside Manila for a few months.
I have a remote job so priority is internet. - stable internet - good data signal (as backup) - cheap cost of living - walkable streets - cafes and restos nearby - with a body of water nearby (beach, lake, falls etc) extra: can go skinny-dipping lol - no power outages, if possible - little social life (bonus if with digital nomad community) - basta not too hot weather
Other places I really enjoyed outside PH - Da Nang, Chiang Mai, Vang Vieng

Hi! Would like to get your recos! I'd like to live outside Manila for a few months.
I have a remote job so priority is internet. - stable internet - good data signal (as backup) - cheap cost of living - walkable streets - cafes and restos nearby - with a body of water nearby (beach, lake, falls etc) extra: can go skinny-dipping lol - no power outages, if possible - little social life (bonus if with digital nomad community) - basta not too hot weather
Other places I really enjoyed outside PH - Da Nang, Chiang Mai, Vang Vieng

Hey there everyone!
I feel like I've never actually recovered from reading cringe wattpad stories with A/B/O dynamics and I've never been able to escape it's grip. So, naturally, I'm seeking something with similar themes!
A/B/O prompt but shaken up just a little itty bitty bit. We're talking beautiful fantasy themes, magic and the wonders of a sprawling new world.
So essentially, in this world it is run by Alphas and Betas. Omegas more or less went extinct after a mass culling of them due to their powers. This was done either to fell people of power(Kings, queens, lords and the likes), bring countries to a halt or stop growth of opposing populations.
Alphas tend to have supernatural physical prowess and senses. Betas are jack of all trades, able to stand in for either positions and are the glue that holds everything together, the cogs that turn the machine, while in most cases they can stand in for Omegas, they unfortunately don't tend to be very fertile. Omegas vary from omega to omega, generally they have magic, this could be over animals, plants an element or anything, but when war breaks out they are the first to be taken out because of that.
A country with no omegas cannot breathe life to any more of them, but more than that, without them there is a strain to live as a whole. Their magic is used in almost every aspect in life, be it animal taming, agriculture, or even as simple as consistent weather thanks to elemental omegas.
In this roleplay, the country/kingdom could either be given an Omega from another thriving land as a peace offering to another ruling body, or in a strange twist of fate one emerges somewhere to be found by your character, whether they appear by magic means or not is to be decided.
I'd like to go about exploring how this world reacts to this strange and unfamiliar new addition, and our two characters getting to learn about each other, and the the mysterious circumstances upon the arrival of m/c. While smut is very much acceptable I'm also looking for plot, world building and the likes. I'd like this to be a long term thing that we can grow and love together.
A little about me, please call me Nyx! I'm 23 years old and my time zone is GMT. I do work during the week so I require a bit of patience for replies but I usually reply at the very least once a day and will let you know if I cannot do that. I would like to build a good rapport with you outside of roleplay and create a comfortable environment for the two of us to chat and send memes, and just discuss this little world we're building.

Reds @ Rockies - Sun, Mar 26

Game Status: Final - Score: 7-5 Reds

Links & Info

• MLB Gameday
• Game Graphs
• Savant Gamefeed

	Reds Batters	AB	R	H	RBI	BB	K	LOB	AVG	OBP	SLG
1	Newman - SS	3	0	1	0	0	0	2	.289	.333	.356
	a-Torres - SS	1	0	0	0	1	0	0	.000	.250	.000
2	Friedl - CF	3	0	2	1	0	0	2	.298	.353	.447
	Hopkins - CF	2	0	1	1	0	0	0	.333	.333	.333
3	Benson - LF	3	0	1	0	0	1	2	.327	.327	.408
	Martini - LF	2	0	0	0	0	1	2	.231	.286	.462
4	Maile - C	4	0	1	0	0	1	4	.182	.270	.303
	Robinson, C - C	1	0	0	0	0	0	2	.308	.308	.538
5	Ramos, H - RF	3	0	0	0	0	0	2	.448	.469	.759
	Cerda - RF	2	0	0	0	0	2	1	.300	.462	.900
6	Vosler - 1B	3	2	2	0	0	1	0	.263	.341	.526
	McGarry - 1B	1	1	1	0	1	0	0	.316	.381	.316
7	Reynolds, M - 3B	3	0	1	0	0	0	1	.385	.385	.385
	b-Quintana - 3B	2	1	1	0	0	1	1	.333	.333	.333
8	McLain - 2B	2	1	0	0	0	0	0	.333	.556	.611
	Leyton - 2B	1	1	0	0	0	0	1	.333	.500	.333
9	Vellojin - DH	4	1	1	2	0	1	5	.333	.333	.417
	Totals	40	7	12	4	2	8	25

Reds
a-Popped out for Newman in the 6th. b-Singled for Reynolds, M in the 8th.
BATTING: 2B: Vosler (2, Freeland). TB: Benson; Friedl 2; Hopkins; Maile; McGarry; Newman; Quintana; Reynolds, M; Vellojin; Vosler 3. RBI: Friedl (9); Hopkins (1); Vellojin 2 (3). Runners left in scoring position, 2 out: Maile; Friedl 2; Ramos, H; Cerda; Robinson, C. Team RISP: 3-for-16. Team LOB: 10.
FIELDING: DP: 2 (McLain-Newman-Vosler; Leyton-Torres-McGarry).

	Rockies Batters	AB	R	H	RBI	BB	K	LOB	AVG	OBP	SLG
1	Daza - CF	3	0	0	0	0	0	1	.298	.333	.333
	Tucker - CF	0	0	0	1	0	0	0	.194	.286	.361
2	Bryant - DH	2	1	0	0	1	0	0	.297	.409	.676
	b-Beck - DH	1	0	0	0	0	1	0	.143	.143	.143
3	McMahon - 2B	2	1	1	1	0	0	0	.306	.404	.571
	Schunk - 2B	2	0	0	0	0	2	0	.143	.143	.357
4	Cron - 1B	2	0	1	0	0	1	1	.194	.286	.355
	Goodman - C	2	0	0	0	0	1	0	.182	.250	.182
5	Blackmon - RF	2	0	0	0	0	1	2	.167	.286	.292
	1-Thompson - RF	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.333	.333	.333
6	Montero, E - 3B	3	1	1	2	0	0	1	.328	.381	.621
	Hatch - 3B	0	0	0	0	1	0	0	.000	.400	.000
7	Díaz, E - C	2	0	0	0	0	2	0	.314	.400	.543
	a-Moustakas - 1B	2	0	0	0	0	0	2	.314	.333	.600
8	Tovar - SS	2	1	0	0	1	0	0	.286	.352	.429
	Kaiser, C - SS	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.111	.000
9	Doyle, B - LF	3	1	2	1	0	0	0	.326	.404	.457
	Totals	29	5	5	5	3	8	7

Rockies
a-Grounded into a double play for Díaz, E in the 7th. b-Struck out for Bryant in the 8th. 1-Ran for Blackmon in the 7th.
BATTING: 2B: McMahon (4, Cruz, F). 3B: Doyle, B (1, Brown, Z). HR: Montero, E (5, 4th inning off Cruz, F, 1 on, 2 out). TB: Cron; Doyle, B 4; McMahon 2; Montero, E 4. RBI: Doyle, B (11); McMahon (8); Montero, E 2 (12); Tucker (3). 2-out RBI: Montero, E 2. SF: Tucker. GIDP: Blackmon; Moustakas. Team RISP: 1-for-3. Team LOB: 2.
FIELDING: E: Montero, E (1, throw); Cron (2, throw).

Reds Pitchers	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K	HR	P-S	ERA
Law, D (W, 1-0)	1.0	0	0	0	0	0	0	15-8	1.23
Farmer, B	1.0	1	0	0	0	0	0	8-6	6.30
Gibaut (H, 1)	1.0	1	0	0	0	1	0	19-12	3.86
Cruz, F	1.0	2	3	3	1	3	1	22-14	5.40
Kuhnel (H, 1)	1.0	0	0	0	0	0	0	12-8	2.53
Sousa (H, 2)	1.0	0	0	0	0	2	0	11-8	2.45
Wynne (H, 1)	1.0	0	0	0	0	0	0	10-6	1.69
Brown, Z	1.0	1	2	2	1	2	0	20-12	6.00
Garcia, P (S, 1)	1.0	0	0	0	1	0	0	15-8	0.00
Totals	9.0	5	5	5	3	8	1

Rockies Pitchers	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K	HR	P-S	ERA
Freeland (L, 1-1)	3.1	8	4	3	0	1	0	68-46	5.79
Kitchen	0.2	0	0	0	0	1	0	11-5	0.00
Bird	2.0	0	0	0	0	1	0	17-11	7.36
Abad	1.0	1	0	0	0	2	0	16-9	2.53
Mears	1.0	2	3	3	2	1	0	34-18	4.50
Johnson	1.0	1	0	0	0	2	0	14-11	2.35
Totals	9.0	12	7	6	2	8	0

Game Info
WP: Mears 2.
Balk: Abad.
HBP: McLain (by Freeland); Leyton (by Mears); Blackmon (by Wynne).
Pitches-strikes: Law, D 15-8; Farmer, B 8-6; Gibaut 19-12; Cruz, F 22-14; Kuhnel 12-8; Sousa 11-8; Wynne 10-6; Brown, Z 20-12; Garcia, P 15-8; Freeland 68-46; Kitchen 11-5; Bird 17-11; Abad 16-9; Mears 34-18; Johnson 14-11.
Groundouts-flyouts: Law, D 2-1; Farmer, B 1-1; Gibaut 1-1; Cruz, F 0-0; Kuhnel 3-0; Sousa 0-1; Wynne 2-0; Brown, Z 0-1; Garcia, P 1-0; Freeland 4-4; Kitchen 1-0; Bird 3-0; Abad 0-0; Mears 1-1; Johnson 0-1.
Batters faced: Law, D 3; Farmer, B 3; Gibaut 4; Cruz, F 6; Kuhnel 3; Sousa 3; Wynne 3; Brown, Z 5; Garcia, P 4; Freeland 20; Kitchen 2; Bird 6; Abad 4; Mears 8; Johnson 4.
Inherited runners-scored: Kitchen 2-0.
Umpires: HP: Austin Jones. 1B: Matt Winter. 2B: Jim Wolf. 3B: Brian Walsh.
Weather: 66 degrees, Sunny.
Wind: 8 mph, Varies.
First pitch: 1:10 PM.
T: 2:36.
Att: 7,899.
Venue: Salt River Fields at Talking Stick.
March 26, 2023

Inning	Scoring Play	Score
Top 2	Daniel Vellojin grounds out, second baseman Ryan McMahon to first baseman C. J. Cron. Jason Vosler scores. Matt Reynolds to 3rd. Matt McLain to 2nd.	1-0 CIN
Top 4	Matt McLain reaches on a throwing error by third baseman Elehuris Montero. Jason Vosler scores. Matt McLain to 3rd. Throwing error by first baseman C. J. Cron.	2-0 CIN
Top 4	Daniel Vellojin singles on a pop up to shortstop Ezequiel Tovar. Matt McLain scores.	3-0 CIN
Top 4	TJ Friedl singles on a ground ball to right fielder Charlie Blackmon. Daniel Vellojin scores. Kevin Newman to 2nd.	4-0 CIN
Bottom 4	Ryan McMahon doubles (4) on a fly ball to left fielder Will Benson. Kris Bryant scores.	4-1 CIN
Bottom 4	Elehuris Montero homers (5) on a fly ball to left field. Ryan McMahon scores.	4-3 CIN
Top 8	Jose Torres walks. Nick Quintana scores. Steven Leyton to 3rd. Wild pitch by pitcher Nick Mears.	6-3 CIN
Top 8	TJ Hopkins singles on a ground ball to right fielder Sterlin Thompson. Steven Leyton scores. Jose Torres to 2nd.	7-3 CIN
Bottom 8	Brenton Doyle triples (1) on a sharp fly ball to right fielder Allan Cerda. Ezequiel Tovar scores.	7-4 CIN
Bottom 8	Cole Tucker out on a sacrifice fly to center fielder TJ Hopkins. Brenton Doyle scores.	7-5 CIN

Team	Highlight
COL	Johnson talks joining Rockies (00:02:03)
COL	C.J. Cron adds a single (00:00:19)
COL	Breaking down Kyle Freeland's pitches (00:00:08)
CIN	TJ Friedl's RBI single (00:00:26)
COL	Elehuris Montero's two-run homer (00:00:28)
CIN	TJ Hopkins adds an RBI single (00:00:24)
COL	Goodman's catch in foul ground (00:00:22)
CIN	Cerda ends game with diving catch (00:00:28)

	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9		R	H	E	LOB
Reds	0	1	0	3	0	0	0	3	0		7	12	0	10
Rockies	0	0	0	3	0	0	0	2	0		5	5	2	2

Decisions

• Winner: Derek Law (1-0, 1.23)
• Loser: Kyle Freeland (1-1, 5.79)
• Save: Pedro Garcia (1, 0.00)

Division Scoreboard

STL 1 @ HOU 24 - Final
PIT 1 @ ATL 8 - Final
CIN 2 @ CLE 3 - Final
KC 0 @ CHC 5 - Final
AZ 4 @ MIL 4 - Final
Next Reds Game: Sun, Mar 26, 04:10 PM EDT @ Rockies
^{Last Updated: 03/26/2023 07:32:32 PM EDT}

Anyone else read this book? What did it make you think about your own childhood?
I just finished reading it and it's making me feel all kinds of ways about my childhood. I didn't have a childhood at all like the authors. And yet, there is something so relatable. I had so many things this author did not have. I had clothes, enough food and a warm home, and at least one parent who sort of kept us safe. We didn't move around. But... the author had things I never had. Emotional connections to family members.
The family described in this book is so different from mine. My parents divorced when I was 4. My mom was critical, negative and controlling. My dad was this fake upbeat guy, going through the motions for about 10 minutes a week with us, and the rest of the time he drank and worked on his yellow legal notepad working out his grand ideas that never amounted to anything. My older sister hated me for being born and made it her childhood mission to make me more miserable than she was, which was hard because my sister was so incredibly miserable.
As kids, we didn't get much attention, unless it was negative attention in the form of criticism for our posture, weight, hair, tidiness, table manners, what we said and how we said it. Often we'd get in trouble for "trying to get attention" in various ways, like talking to her when she was trying to read, or asking too many questions, or crying too much. My mom believed attention seeking was selfish and manipulative and she'd ignore us to teach us a lesson.
If attention was food, my mom had us on a strict diet, in addition to keeping the house empty of much actual food since my mother was always dieting and was trying to get my sister to lose weight. I tried to stay out of the house as much as possible, and survived off the attention from teachers and friends and their families, as well as the food in their pantries.
In the 3rd grade, one of my classmates came to school in a cast, after falling off a ferris wheel. The teacher had all of the students sign the cast. Then for weeks I thought about what I could do to break my arm or leg, so I could get a cast and have everyone sign it. I was that hungry for attention and also felt so much shame for wanting it. The only legitimate way of getting attention seemed to be falling off a ferris wheel and breaking your arm. I didn't know when I might get to be on a ferris wheel next and by that time I'd luckily forgotten that plan.
Eventually I learned that you could get attention from my mom by being like a mother to her. Ask her about her life, and validate all her feelings. Cheer her on, and boost her ego about her house, clothes, etc. Console her about her life's disappointments. I did that for a few decades, as if mothering my mother was better than not having a mother. I didn't feel loved by her but I felt needed by her which was something.
Every so often, my mom would bring up a time when I was a kid, and tried in various ways, to get her attention, as if it's so funny to her. She brought up a time when I was probably 14 and I'd written a short story that I wanted her to read. She was laughing, saying that it was so funny how I'd wanted her to read it. "Do you remember that?" she said, saying how I was so pushy and demanding as a kid.
I have listened to this woman talk about herself for thousands and thousands of hours, about her life, dreams, insecurities.....and she thinks it's funny that time she ignored me when I wanted her to read my story. And she wanted to tell me about it as an adult, reminisce about these times together. The thing is I don't think she has any idea how hurtful she's being, she just actually thinks it's funny and that naturally I'll think it's funny too.
I don't really know if this is an appropriate post or where to post it. But I just wanted to write about it and get these thoughts off my chest after reading this book, which brought up so much stuff for me. Thanks for listening.