EC

Which I can see how this would be a problem, but it’s just so funny to me because they had interviewed this one guy who started off with 3 chickens, and then kept adding more and more, and eventually started donating the eggs to a local food bank, and at the end of the year when they wrote him a tax receipt, he discovered he’d donated over 400 dozen eggs.

Seriously, it was a whole article talking very seriously about how people are so into chickens that they just keep collecting them like pokemon and then have to “scramble” (their words not mine) to get rid of the eggs, because they weren’t even thinking of egg production, they just loved having chickens.

Map of mutual aid groups

Map of community fridges

Map of little free pantries

my mother died at home in a hospice cot, slowly shutting down over the course of about a week. when she had stopped responding, i remembered what dad told me about wishing he’d played music for grandpa, and i put the radio on her favorite country music station and kept it on for her until she died.

daddy died in hospital. no cassette players, no decent radios. the day after he was brought in, i thought again of what he told me, and i bought a little portable bluetooth speaker. even though he never woke up, was never aware, i played music for him too.

My teacher handed them back the next day with an obvious zero written on mine, and when I started crying in class he told me that’s what I get for cheating, in front of everyone.

My therapist asked me why I saw her as separate from myself. I realized I felt that at some point between then and Adulthood, that girl had died, and I was mourning her death. All the time, I looked at photos of my younger self as if they were memories of a childhood friend I’d lost.

My therapist helped me understand and accept that she never died, she is me, and by surviving, I did save her life. She is alive, and those hopes and dreams she had before she felt pain and loss still exist in me. And every time someone treats me badly and I stand up for myself, I am standing up for her. Every time I try to get better, I am nursing her back to health. Every time I take care of myself, I am taking care of her. I am the adult she needed.

She was saved, because she is me, and I saved myself. I saved her. I saved us both.

ches

1. Port Elizabeth (South Africa)

2. Unknown

3. Nairobi (Kenya)

4. Pretoria (South Africa)

5. Aburi Botanical Gardens (Ghana)

6. Cape Town (South Africa)

7. Pretoria (South Africa)

8. Harare (Zimbabwe)

9. Windhoek (Namibia)

10. Windhoek (Namibia)

To @kushandwizdom this is a rather unfair portrayal of Africa as a whole since half of these are literally just South Africa.  So Instead to add to this post and better dispel the myth of Africa as the vast wasteland of poverty most people think, I found a much more mixed collection of pics from various countries.

Luanda, Angola

Agadir, Morocco

Lagos, Nigeria

Cairo, Egypt

Port Louis, Mauritius

Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire

Algiers, Algeria

Tripoli, Libya

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Tunis, Tunisia

A redneck neighbor once asked my mom (in the 80s) if they had cars in Peru. Sigh.

Hartford, Connecticut

New Orleans, Louisiana

Camden, New Jersey

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

McDowell County, West Virginia

Flint, Michigan

Washington, D.C.

And there was this one guy I talked with who seemed super sharp, but had virtually zero experience writing software. When it came time to do the show-n-tell part of the interview he whips out his laptop, brings up a website, and spins it around to show me what he made.

A website of tiny ceramic frogs.

Not for sale. Just… all these ceramic frogs, organized into categories. Frogs on bicycles, frogs with hats, frogs sitting on lily pads. It was a virtual museum of ceramic frogs in web form.

I scrolled through his online collection of frogs, slightly baffled.

“This is your website?” I asked finally.

“Yep!”

“You coded this yourself?” I popped into view-source mode and poked around some incredibly well-formatted, well-commented html. I nodded slowly. This guy was meticulous.

“Yep!”

“So… where’d all the frogs come from?”

“I made those too,” he says, beaming. 

And while I’m processing this he rummages in his bag and pulls out a little ceramic frog working at a computer terminal. He places it on the table before us, next to the laptop.

“And THIS one,” he says, “I made for you! As a thank you for the interview.”

It was adorable. I hired him on the spot. I mean, why not? Worst case he’d wash out in 90 days and we’d hire somebody else. He turned out to be one of the best developers on our team. 

Sailors aboard a ship used to hum to warn the captain they were THIS close to a mutiny and didn’t like conditions AT ALL. Because humming was something others could keep doing when you stopped. Anyone comes close you stop, but the hum of the rest keeps on and they can’t prove who, exactly, is doing it.

And if people want more information, this particular song is called “The Chemical Worker’s Song (Process Man)”, written by the Canadian folk group Great Big Sea.