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clauderainsrm ([personal profile] clauderainsrm) wrote in [community profile] therealljidol2025-07-09 07:19 pm

Week 3 - The Accusation

 [personal profile] flipflop_diva  has used her reward to give someone the antidote!  Did she save a life or did that precious elixir go to waste?  I guess we will start finding out in the coming weeks!!

***

But before we get to the regularly scheduled voting and polls, there is still the matter of YOU, the Idol contestants, and your attempt to stop this/these horrible Killer(s) from their murderous plots!

There was slightly more concentration of votes this time around, with fewer named suspects.  (only 8 as opposed to 13 last time) But, by a slight margin, one name came out on top. 

The Idolers formally accuse [personal profile] inkstainedfingertips of being a KIller!!!




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Alyce Wilson ([personal profile] alycewilson) wrote2025-07-09 04:48 pm

Week 3: Ecco

This is my entry for this week of LJ Idol: Wheel of Chaos. The prompt this week is "Ecco," which is an Italian word defined as, essentially, "presenting a person, thing, or idea and inviting you to perceive it at the very moment it appears," similar to the English word "behold."

Behold

I peer into your dark bronze eyes as you, swaddled
in a panda blanket, gaze back. We are both
enthralled with this novelty: being apart
from one another. Our bodies separate, at last.
Your heart pounding in your own tiny chest, no longer
tapping time with mine. Able, at last, to see
the origin of the voice you've heard
echoing through blood so many months. My own heart

now suffused with warmth and wellbeing
which I feebly label "love." But Valentine sentiment
pales beside this affection, which encapsulates
not just tenderness but a deep
knowing; a twinning of cells.
Your joy, my joy; your pain
mine, as well.

So many years later -- an eon of growth --
you may wonder why I still
beam at you; why I intone
your name so sweetly in the mornings
as I coach you to disentangle your long limbs
from swaddling blankets. Why I still sing
good morning to you, as if the nectar
of each day was worth savoring. Even now,
with your deep voice, your wry humor,
your eyes behind speckled glasses,
I still see you as I saw you then.
In breathless wonder.


- July 9, 2025

KFP Sucks His Thumb

Inspired by [personal profile] eeyore_grrl, I've recorded a video of myself reading this poem.
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swirlsofpurple ([personal profile] swirlsofpurple) wrote2025-07-09 06:55 pm
Entry tags:

Title: Ecco

 

“Tommy sit down and put your seatbelt on, we’re landing,” Izzy says, checking all of the kids’ belts before sinking into her seat, even after the whole journey she still can’t believe how soft it is. The academy’s space shuttle is far fancier than the ones she can afford.

Her eyes dart between each of her students as they walk through the busy city. Even though they have plenty of attendants, it’s her first school trip and there’s an itch in her brain saying she’s going to lose a kid on another planet. They reach the line for the main event mercifully quickly, and of course are allowed into the express lane designated for prime seating. Nothing but the best for these kids: the progeny of lords, celebrities, and CEOs.

Izzy stands in this most auspicious of places, feeling like a fraud. She’s never really belonged anywhere. Three months ago she was a bus driver and four months before that she was a nurse. She pushes down the bad voice, holds her chin up, takes in the children before her, and starts with an easy question, “Who can tell me why this is so special?” 

All hands go up. She points at Crissy, a shy, tiny slip of a girl. “A new Rokurirou is only born every three or four hundred years, so every birth is celebrated world-wide.”

Izzy mentally gives her an extra point for not calling them tree aliens. “Good, that’s correct. How do they sustain themselves with births being so rare?”

“They don’t die.”

“You’ve got the right idea. Can anyone elaborate?”

Tommy jumps in place, hand up like he’s trying to catch a cloud, she nods at him, “They live for a bazillion years.”

“Bazillion isn’t a real number!” Jamie yells.

“Okay, what’s your answer then?”

“They live for thousands and thousands and thousands of years.”

“That’s right, good. And why is there all this yellow?”

Half the hands go up. She points at Alice.

“Their eyes see differently to ours, each different shade of yellow is a completely different colour to them and what we see as yellow are their brightest and most celebratory colours.”

“Well done. Why is there only a birth every few centuries?”

Only three hands go up. She notes this as a topic for them to do more on.

“They have very low fertility.”

“That’s correct. They do have very low fertility, but another thing is they always have had. Though it’s not uncommon to see drop offs in fertility in a species. It’s very rare for a species to thrive while having this throughout. The low fertility also means the majority of people don’t even try to have kids which further reduces the birth-rate. Those who do try generally don’t expect to get pregnant, it’s a bit like when adults play the lottery.”

 
*

They reach their room, only a pane of glass between the class and the birthing suite. There are hundreds of little twigs protruding from the mother— Tirtriso’s— back. Izzy can see why they only do this every few centuries. She pushes a button for the shutter to lower. It had been quite a job to convince the organizers, without offending, that they wanted to be part of the before and after celebrations without viewing the actual birth. Izzy steers the kids to the other side of the room, where they can see the parade in full swing. The joyous music sounds so sombre to the human ear, but most of the kids are pressed up to the glass in delight anyway.

 
*

Then the messages start coming through. Something’s wrong. Izzy doesn’t think, just barges through the door. The newborn isn’t breathing. The doctors are panicking. This isn’t something they’re prepared for. They are a hardy species, living for many millennia, problems with people under two hundred years old is practically unheard of. Doctors are there to ensure the mother’s health.

“The tube doesn’t fit.” 

“It’s the smallest we have. Keep trying.”

“You need something else,” Izzy says quietly. She’s ignored.

The doctor keeps trying to fit the too large tube in.

She has no place here, no knowledge of their physiology, but that’s never stopped her before, “Listen! The baby’s too small, that’s never going to fit!”  

They turn to her then. “We have nothing else.”

“Then we make-shift something, put some bits of other equipment together.”

All of their eyes, all of their attention, is on her now. They all know what rests here. “How?”

Izzy steps closer. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Once she sees their equipment it isn’t hard to jerry-rig something, she had to do this a few times when she worked at a hospital in the rougher outskirts.

And the baby is breathing.

 
*

It’s a couple of hours later, when the parade is dying down for the day, she lifts the shutter, with Tirtriso’s permission, so the kids can see what they came here for.

“I want to see the baby tree alien!” Tommy says, running into the room before anyone can stop him.

“Sorry,” Izzie says, rushing in behind him, “Tommy, we don’t call the Rokurirou that, and you shouldn’t be in here.”

“It’s fine,” Tirtriso says, “Let the others come in also, come all of you, come, let my baby meet you.”

The kids pour in, clustering around swarm-like. “Careful,” Izzy says. It’s not too late for an inter-stellar incident.

“It’s good. I believe this is the first time a Rokurirou newborn has ever met another child, a moment for our history.”

Izzy watches the children coo and blow raspberries and talk at the baby and wonders what it must be like to be the only child on a planet. 

 

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Dan ([personal profile] muchtooarrogant) wrote2025-07-08 11:47 am
Entry tags:

Compulsion

LJI Week 3: Ecco
His race car was bright red.

"VROOM!" Teddy growled deep in his throat, but not too loudly. Mommy was on the phone, and she wasn't using her happy voice.

"Seriously? You're going to talk to me about being responsible when you don't even ..."

The smooth gray path stretched out in front of him, and the harder he pushed, the faster his car went. He loved the whirring noise it made, and the way the light from the sky flashed off its shiny roof. The words mommy was saying behind him felt like sharp little knives, and made him want to run even faster. Push! Whirr! Run!

Read more... )
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bleodswean ([personal profile] bleodswean) wrote2025-07-08 07:32 am

LJ Idol - Wheel of Chaos - Wk 3 - Ecco

 
That shattering glass, not a windshield but a doorway of shock and awe, into another place. As though she had left a place for the sole reason of arriving at another place. No wandering in between. She had never been good at telling a story, not like Daddy could be around a fire, but if she had survived then perhaps, she would have been able to say out loud those moments in a way that would capture the sheer impossibility of a human body in flight. Not falling but flying, the propulsion of her skeleton, all bone projectile, into the headlight lit darkness. The impact of her head with the windscreen was the killing blow, of course it was, yet she traveled onward still alive, through the glass, over the crumpled hood and into the forever night. Leaving both sneakers behind as she went. Did she see the stars in their firmament? In this strange leave-taking she lingered on a while, the air above and surround her insubstantial, the pavement solid beneath her, the summer scorched heat of it a small comfort to her cooling body, the bloody halo of her long blonde hair creating a vision of such suffering, such loss, hers a miraculous martyred death. Our Teenaged Lady of the Automobile Collision. The shattered shoulder bones, the leaking skull. The impossible sense of soaring passing through her nerve endings, dissipating through her pores. Simultaneous departure and arrival and departure. The touch and go of her short life. 
 
The afternoon of the day had grown hot. Morning spent working in Daddy’s garden. It was time for the leafy branches to be snipped off close to the stem to allow the lengthening buds all the sunlight. He didn’t pay her out, they had nothing extra for allowances, but after the harvest late in the fall, just before winter, he could be generous with the crumpled bills that began to stuff his pockets. She’d walk her brothers to the store, cold winds blowing through them, and buy the boys candy bars and herself a fashion magazine.
 
Daddy had two other daughters before she was born. One lived up in Alaska with her own momma and the other one of them lived in an old camp trailer on Daddy’s property with her baby. She was her momma’s oldest, after her came four more, all boys and of course Daddy was partial to them on account that they were boys, but he was good to all his children and just the day before this day Momma said she was expecting another one come springtime. She whisper prayed that it would be a girl, a sister, another sister.
 
Now the day was bending open the bars that held her prisoner, soon she would be freed. It was just gone noon. She had made sandwiches for her brothers, cleaned the kitchen and Momma told her she was allowed to walk down the road to the swimming hole. She longed to go on her own and Momma said that was fine, too, but only on account that two of her brothers seemed to be suffering from the heat and Momma wanted to keep a closer eye on them. It was hot and had been hot for going on a week. They’d taken to sleeping out of doors on the wood slatted porch, but the night before a bear had woken them up pawing through garbage and the compost and Daddy said they had to be back inside the house until he either could get a decent shot off or someone else on the hill got him first. Dressed bear in the chest freezer would be a treat. 
 
She was fourteen years old that summer day. Highschool in the fall and she couldn’t imagine what that would be like. Tried and failed. Thought she might be more than what she was, if such a thing was possible and even then, couldn’t tell you accurately what that more looked like. Knew that somewhere out there more was waiting to be had, one just needed to get to where it was at. Arrive with eyes wide opened and announce themselves with attention.
 
Cut off shorts and a bikini top, knock off Converse low tops, and her waist-length hair swinging over her shoulders, near white it was so light colored, and she swung it back and forth with a practiced toss of her head. Girl we known it was you from way down the road, he said to her when he pulled over. Driving his uncle’s truck leaning out the window at her diesel exhaust smelling so dangerously sweet and another boy she didn’t know jumped out and opened the passenger side door for her like they’d been expecting her and no one but her, and she climbed up into the cab and knew her daddy wouldn’t be at all happy because he said Levi’s family was one to steer clear of whenever mannerly possible. But Levi had his hair shorn short dagger sideburns delineating his jaw line and a swagger in his long-legged stride. On the bus, he sat way at the back while she had to sit in the front with her younger brothers, sometimes holding Caden’s hand to keep him from crying, which he was prone to doing because the only thing he wanted in the wide world was to be home in the kitchen with Momma. The high schoolers got off the bus first stop and when it came springtime, Levi started tapping her on the shoulder as he walked past and then that last week of school he sat himself down right behind her on the way home every day and caught the ends of her hair in his loose-fisted palms. Sometimes his fingers, dirty and sticky with cannabis oil would tap tap the knobs of her spine. You’re real skinny, he would tell her in a voice so quiet and low it could only be meant as a secret of some kind. And the nerves would explode across her shoulders and at night in her bed she would think about the heat of his fingers and roll over onto her stomach believing that wings could be coaxed out of the two thin blades in her back. Those shoulder bones were a storehouse inside her body for all that tingling sensation caused by his fingers on her flesh. 
 
Now she was sitting on the bench seat right up next to him. Don’t be shy girl he laughed. Bet you ain’t brave enough to jump off that high rock. The other boy had his window rolled down open too and he craned his body out of it and whooped loud. Levi gunned the big truck and black exhaust rolled out of the dual pipes and he fishtailed a bit and she gasped but the boys laughed. And soon she was laughing too. 
 
They raced one another down to the swimming hole but the boys veered up the narrow path to the high rock. She kept on down to the rocky beach, looking up. Can you see me from there? He called down to her and she nodded. What? He yelled. I can, I can see you! She visored both hands over her eyes and watched him watching her as he leaped off the rock.
 
There was no way not to be alive that afternoon.
 
She felt no pain outside the hurt of leaving. She couldn’t close her eyes as though to sleep; her soul was exiting through her vision itself. What’s the time, she asked. Her world spinning now, the dizziness of the calling fade. No more thought everything a retinal remembering. 

That day in the rain when I was almost turned sixteen telling him I had missed that month and he began to speed down and down the winding dirt roads? Or later while we raised up three young’uns and he had a bad spell with liquor and somehow it all came to a screaming head that afternoon in the truck? Or was it only the two of us again, that morning of such sadness, driving in the snow back from the hospital? Or before all that, the first sweltered day of summer when he drove us down to the swimming hole, before ditching his friend because he said he had something he wanted to show me, just him and me, and I knew without knowing how that this was my arriving. 
 
krispykritter ([personal profile] krispykritter) wrote2025-07-07 02:48 pm
Entry tags:

TheRealLJIdol-week 3: Ecco

Jose, my guide dog for the past 3 years, was reluctant to jump into his harness to start the day. His steps were tentative, as if he were walking on glass. Even before I inspected his paws, I knew what this was.
Not again!
Esther, my guide two dogs prior to this acted the same way. At that time, her behavior was a mystery. This time it was not.
Off to the vet to confirm what I already knew: symmetrical lupoid onica dystrophy, otherwise referred to as SLO.
What were the odds of having two dogs with this somewhat rare condition? But there it was.
In an effort to keep Jose working I took him to a dermatologist (yes there is such a specialty in the veterinary world.). She confirmed what both my regular vet and I knew. $700 later after bloodwork and examination a plethora of medications and instructions followed: four medications including an antibiotic, omega-3 capsules, and others, along with bathing Jose’s paws daily in an anti-bacterial solution. If it kept Jose comfortable and possibly working, I would do anything I could. Jose was not just my guide but part of my family. It is a commitment I make every time I leave the Seeing Eye, harness in hand.
Alas, despite the treatments, Jose’s paws were still tender. His toenails were lifting and he occasionally bled. He also developed an infection. The decision had to be made to prematurely retire him.
I had my previous guide who decided during the covid pandemic that the couch was preferable to the harness. I also had a pet golden retriever who was extremely active. With Jose’s upcoming retirement and getting a new guide this would mean four dogs and a cat. Could the house hold another canine family member? It was the topic of discussion between my husband and me for several days.
Meanwhile I tapped my way through life using my cane. Even though I am proficient in its use I despised the thing! It was a necessary evil which I endured.
Several calls and emails occurred over a few months, and a class date finally was scheduled. The sadness from retiring Jose was transformed into excitement about a new partner. What would the dog be: male or female? Labrador, golden retriever, or German shepherd? Black, yellow, or black and tan? Will the dog have a ridiculous name?
Negotiations had to happen as my class date was scheduled during finals at the college where I work. It made for a stressful few weeks as my department director was displeased. Her hands were tied as I needed to do this, and she knew it.
Finally, the day came when I would leave for The Seeing Eye. The suitcase was packed. Everything I could do to tie up loose ends was done at work. I was New Jersey bound.
After the mandatory evaluation of my walking pace, pull on the harness I preferred and what my corrections were like instructors met to determine our doggie fate. The anticipation was palpable at breakfast that Wednesday morning.
Off to our rooms we went to wait to be presented with our new partners for hopefully the next 8-10 years. Doors opened and shut. Jingling of collars in the hall were heard. Finally, a knock on my door…” It’s Jackie.”
I opened the door to be greeted by my instructor holding the leash of a chocolate labrador retriever.
“Here you go! Meet Krispy!”
And at that point our journey began.
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adoptedwriter ([personal profile] adoptedwriter) wrote2025-07-06 05:43 pm

Sitting here in The Mothership’s room…

She’s fighting not dying with everything she’s got, but she’s also not fighting to live. She’s half asleep and half awake. She mumbles and I think knows what she wants to say but she’s barely understandable. Still trying to control her destiny but honestly can’t. She’s had some equivalent of “chill pills” but no morphine yet. My brother is coming for next weekend. My mom doesn’t know that. In my head I’m talking to some ancestors asking them to help her. Just help her. Whatever that means. There are photos of her parents and grandparents in the room. It makes me think about that song by The Judds, “Guardian Angels”. She’s so tired. So fckn tired.   I know most of y’all reading this, if you read this, are not into country tunes, but oh man! The lyrics!  
https://genius.com/The-judds-guardian-angels-lyrics
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drippedonpaper ([personal profile] drippedonpaper) wrote2025-07-06 03:23 pm

LJ Idol: 3rd Prompt- Ecco

(The word "ecco" is an Italian adverb that means "here" or "there." It is used to call attention to something or to announce the presence of someone or something nearby.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: "Surprise Starts with the Letter S."
(non-fiction)


Parenting starts with a proclamation. The doctor says, "Here are the results. You're pregnant!" And for the next nine months there is no one closer to you than that new person(-to-be).

I am a mother of three (now young adults), and a step-mother of two (grown adults.)

The journey with my children has been full of unexpected moments, especially with my middle child. My son is the oldest (he is now 24) and then there is S., my daughter.

At that exciting "gender reveal" ultrasound appointment, S. was very active within me, kicking, moving, and ultimately not cooperating. Just because today was a good day for the ultrasound tech, it didn't mean that S. was ready to reveal anything she knew. (I should have realized this was a sign of things to come. I did not.) So the doctor moves the sensor around my belly, and moves it, and tries and tries and finally he says, "I am pretty certain I saw something extra. Congratulations! You're having a second son."

I said, "Yay! Are you sure? You said the baby was active."

He said, "I would say with 70-80% certainty."

We still had picked a name for either gender. The boy name was Adam. When my son tried to jump on my lap, we would say, "Be careful. Be gentle with Baby Adam."

Whenever someone asked what I was having, I would say, "The doctor's pretty sure it's a second boy."

We were excited. There wouldn't be a problem with baby clothes, I would just hand them down. The only one a bit disappointed was my mother-in-law. but she adjusted.

After 26 hours of labor, (14 of those hours without any epidural), and 2 hours of pushing, my first very large child was a c-section. So I then decided to have a second (this time planned) c-section. We promised to call my then mother-in-law as soon as the baby was born.

S. came out. The doctor said, "Congratulations! It's a girl!"

Her dad was flabbergasted. "A girl?"

The doctor said, "See for yourself."

S. was definitely a girl. So her dad called his mom. He said, "You'll never guess, the baby was actually a boy." Mother-in-law said, "Stop kidding me, that's not very nice!" and hung up. So he had to call her again. She was so excited! That very day she took our niece to shop for pink baby dresses. It was that or have S. go home in the clothes I had brought which were very masculine hand-me-downs from her older brother.

The main person confused was my son. For months, he would say, "But where is Baby Adam?"

We said, "Actually we were wrong. See? Here is S, your sister!"

He would always reply, "But where is Baby Adam?"

In my experience, kids are never exactly what you expect. Sometimes, not even close.

I'm a reader. My oldest and youngest children are too. We love fiction, and stories, and TV shows, and movies. S. does not. She reads some, but pretty early one, liked exclusively non-fiction. She never liked TV shows or movies, not even ones like "Dora the Explorer" as a toddler. She liked to be active (not sit and watch or read), and she "didn't like anything that wasn't real." I didn't understand her viewpoint, but I did want her to be herself.

I do feel, looking back, I unfortunately missed some signs that later became evident. My oldest child, a son, is autistic. My first marriage of 17 years ended up very stormy. My son needed a lot of help adjusting to the world, every step of the way. I've realized now, it's pretty likely S. is also on the autism spectrum like her brother. She seemed to manage and move through her developmental stages. Autism presents differently sometimes in different genders. But at the time, that idea didn't even occur to me. I loved all three kids as best I knew, and life went on.

When S. was 11, the divorce was my first husband was final, and we moved across town. I was very busy, always working two jobs (1 full time, 1 part time) and sometimes 3 jobs.

When S. was 12, she had an Emo phase. Not only did she prefer to wear all black, only black all the time, she insisted I needed to get rid of any and all articles of her clothing that were not black. I did try to let her express herself and wear what she chose. Life was busy, her brother had announced he was gay, and was having mental issues including several stays in a psych ward. S. wearing only black clothes felt like the least of my problems.

When S. was 13, she then wanted to wear tye-dyed shirts (and preferably only tye-dyed shirts.) I figured all that black made her miss colors, and now she was almost over-dosing. But, OK, tye-dye it is. That year, she decided to dye her hair purple. I did wonder about that, but my friend pointed out, better now that in her 20s. You don't want her convinced her life sucked because she never got to have purple hair.

So I agreed as long as she paid for the dye herself and dyed it herself. I have never dyed my own hair, so I didn't realize how much the edge of her face and her hands would then be purple for several days. I guess my "maybe she'll only dye it once" plan worked as that was the only time she has ever dyed her hair. There are other ways to try being extreme though. Honestly, at this point in 2025, unusual hair would be the least of my worries.

I guess it's possible her inspiration to have purple hair came from our UU church. I had grown up in a very traditional church. After my divorce, I let my kids decide if and where we went to church. We were (and still are) in a Unitarian Universalist church. I hoped my children would be open-minded people. S. seemed to love the UU church and often called me out on anything she thought seemed too rigid.


When S. was 14, she announced she was gay. I did start to wonder if my divorce and the gender roles my children saw were the reason they didn't want to be anything close to traditional, but, OK. I want my kids to feel free to be themselves. She said C. was her girlfriend. I took them to the Gay Pride Festival in my town (with the permission of C.'s mom.) Again, I had to adjust in my mind who my daughter was, but hey, that's life right?

When S. was 15, she got an extremely short hair cut and began wearing mostly men's clothes. Again, she wanted to purge her closet of anything feminine, and I allowed her too. She wanted to wear a man's button-down shirt and men's plain khaki shorts to my sister's outdoor wedding, and I let her. My kids are themselves. I want them to know it's what's inside that counts. I asked more than once if she were trans. She always claimed not to be, but a couple years later, my youngest child told me, during this time, S. went by a new name at school.

When S. was 16 and 17, she got very involved in politics. She was the President of the High School Democrats for our whole state. We went to many protests. At 17, she announced she wasn't gay. I said, "OK." Her favorite thing to wear were feminist t-shirts. She often announced that the world would be better if women were in charge. I admit, I was proud of her leadership qualities. I hope her generation helps make the world better.

She did develop a crush on a Jewish guy also in HS Democrats in another state, however, but said he was very pro-feminist. Unexpected to me, she did began dressing very conservatively. She began to make Challah bread every Friday. She never did meet the guy, but seemed to be considering becoming Jewish. I was surprised, but maybe ... maybe she felt she needed more order to her understanding of the world than our UU church offered? I was a bit concerned. I really, really tried to be open-minded. Truly being open-minded means one's children can choose to be whoever, even more rigid-minded than I am, right?

S.'s senior year in high school was very rough. She seemed angry a lot, but not inclined to say why. In March, we paid for her to take a trip with her high school band to Washington, DC. I waved the school bus good-bye as she rode away for the airport. Within hours, I got a long text from S. explaining that, actually, she had converted to Islam and was going to start wearing a hijab on this trip.

To be honest, I was worried. My first marriage had been abusive, and her dad justified a lot because "women should be submissive." Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I did try to help her consider if this religion was really what my formerly almost militant feminist daughter wanted. These questions and discussions rarely went very well. She took my questions extremely personally. I asked, "What made you want to become Muslim?" And she said, "I like the hygiene rules." I had expected a story perhaps about praying and feeling a godly presence.

Upon a lot of reflection on her very adamant OCD "rules" which she tries to get all of us to comply with, sometimes I have wondered if she is also on the autistic spectrum like her older brother (he is officially diagnosed, she is not and refuses to try any kind of counseling.) I hate that I somehow "missed" some signs (it seems.) Her brother had had such stormy issues all his life, and it felt like between that and my many jobs, we were just trying to survive.

So this was who she was. A Muslim girl. She doesn't just wear a hijab, she also wears long, flowing "robe" dresses. After the first couple weeks, I stopped trying to change her mind, though she often tries to convince me to try being Muslim. I've put boundaries on how long I am willing to discuss that matter. I don't plan to convert.

Halfway through her soph0more year of college, my son said he needed to tell me something. He confessed that S. had met a Muslim man online and booked herself a ticket to go meet him in Canada.

This concerned me greatly as she was only 19. I did try to talk her out of it. Concerned for her safety, I ended up booking tickets on the same flights and going with her. She was sure they were going to get married. I honestly mostly hoped he was a real person without bad intentions.

The visit went pretty well (to my surprise, honestly. I was so relieved this wasn't some kind of human trafficking situation!) We flew home, and he broke up with her on the phone the day after. She was extremely devastated as apparently they had the marriage contract all worked out.

As the months passed after the break up, I hoped some of the uproar of the young adult years with S. might be calming down. I did tell her she isn't allowed to leave the country without telling me. If she did that again, we wouldn't keep helping her pay for college (I know that seems extreme. Nothing else I said persuaded her though.) For whatever reason, she now wears only all black hijabs and all black robes. She now refuses (again) to wear anything that isn't black except maybe to Muslim weddings.

S. graduated from college the end of May this year, though the official "summer graduation" date is in August for all summer graduates from her university. She hasn't found a job in her field yet, so is living at home and working full time. I had hoped she would have a year or more to do that, and develop as herself.

This week, she announced she is getting married the end of September. I said, "To who?" as I hadn't even heard she met a prospect. They have had 2 dates. He is 27 year old to her 21. She is going to sponsor his US citizenship "but that's not why we are getting married."

I have many mixed feelings. I have asked some questions, trying to just help her consider a few things. She doesn't appreciate "me being against her marriage." I told her I'm not against it necessarily, I just want her to consider this step. It's a big choice. I'm pretty sure Muslims also believe in marriage "until death do us part."

It sounds like I am (still at this point) invited to the wedding. She doesn't like my questions, so I don't know if I or her dad will walk her down an aisle or if Muslims even do that. She did say they are going to slaughter some goats for the wedding feast which has horrified my vegetarian younger daughter, E.

Many thoughts and memories go through my mind these days. My time with my daughter hasn't at all been what I expected or imagined when my doctor said, "It's a girl!"

I like to think I have a good imagination, but my parenting journey hasn't been at all what I expected or how the dozens of parenting books and articles I have read through the years described parenting. Even books on parenting children on the autism spectrum didn't mention many of the adventures I have had with my kids. Life is so full of surprises!

And maybe some surprises still ahead. I try to take deep breathes, tell myself anything can happen between now and September. Love is love, right? I need to be loving whether I am becoming a mother-in-law or if S. goes through another break-up.

Whatever comes next, accept it with love. That is my goal.
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clauderainsrm ([personal profile] clauderainsrm) wrote in [community profile] therealljidol2025-07-05 10:59 pm

The Wheelhouse - Week 3 - Extended Weekend Edition

 The new prompt is up:  therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1188144.html

Which means the results and twist (or in this case, non-twist) are also up:    therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1187739.html  and therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1188073.html

***

I've been thinking a lot lately about compatibility when it comes to love languages.   For those of you will partners - what are you, and what are they? 

My "love language" is Acts of Terror.  That's how I show my feelings, by unleashing absolute terror onto people, usually to force them to write!  Sometimes this is accompanied by "Acts of Violence, Specifically Kicking" 


adoptedwriter: (Default)
adoptedwriter ([personal profile] adoptedwriter) wrote2025-07-05 07:52 am

ECCO Home Game Week 3

I didn’t get enough votes in the last round of Idol. I barely got by with enough votes the 1st round. I don’t think I have ever gone down in round 2 in all the years I have played, so that feels weird. Oh well.

This week’s prompt is the word ‘ecco’. I’m sorta glad I don’t have to officially post for this one, but being the “Wordie” I am, I still wanted to discuss it. Plus I am off school for the summer and I actually have the down time. 

I’m a Spanish major, (or was when I was in college.) In Spanish we have a similar word “hay”, pronounced like “eye”. It means there is or there are. Ecco and hay are cool and useful little words because they can be both singular and plural. You can’t mess up number and gender with this term. Ecco / Hay is also what I tell students is a “fake verb” in that every complete sentence has to have a verb, but this is one you never have to conjugate in order to make subjects and nouns agree. That’s another plus.  So for once, learners have a nice, simple word that’s easy to use and also hard to mess up. 

Ecco (tm) is also a Danish shoe and leather goods company. Their products are high quality, functional yet still attractive. Karl Toosbuy, the Danish man who created the company in the 1960s came up with the name by modifying a Latin phrase , “ex corde ad corde” meaning “from the heart.” He felt it went well with his company’s philosophy of manufacturing goods made of quality and integrity. Ecco footwear is also considered orthotic-friendly. Foot pain can be a real issue for many people, especially for those who work long hours on their feet. Ecco is not a cheap brand, but if it’s any consolation, the quality and effectiveness of the product hopefully makes up for the price.

Hmmm…Quality, week 1’s topic.  
Consolation…Week 2’s topic.

Well, “there it is!”

clauderainsrm: (Default)
clauderainsrm ([personal profile] clauderainsrm) wrote in [community profile] therealljidol2025-07-04 11:13 am

Prompt - Week 3

 *spins wheel* 

*Looks at what was selected* 

*tries to remember the circumstance that led to it being added, fails*  *Looks up what it means*  *still no clue, but now agrees that Past Gary was right to add it* 

The Prompt for Week 3 is 


ECCO 

It's an Italian word, so I'm linking a site to a definition (since all of the English ones were leading to a company with that name!) italian.yabla.com/lesson-Ecco-An-Ancient-and-Useful-Adverb-703

As always, the prompt is a springboard for your creativity. 

So go have fun!

The deadline to link your entry back to this thread is Wednesday July 9th at 7pm ET. 


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clauderainsrm ([personal profile] clauderainsrm) wrote in [community profile] therealljidol2025-07-03 09:42 pm

Twist Reveal - Week 3

 I consulted the wheel to see if there would be a twist this week... and it said NO. 

So this week has no special twist.  

You do however have one more chance for you to try to find the Killer(s) before they poison anyone else!   Remember to send me your guess on the identity of a killer by the deadline for the prompt.  

I just realized I never posted this last night!  :D 

clauderainsrm: (Default)
clauderainsrm ([personal profile] clauderainsrm) wrote in [community profile] therealljidol2025-07-03 09:05 pm

Results - Week 2

 In the dead of night, the Killer(s) have poisoned another contestant!  Who is it? Is it you??? 

The good news is that [personal profile] flipflop_diva had the most votes this week, which means she will be deciding how to hand out the antidote! Maybe she will be able to save someone... 

***

Now for the other news, even though at several points I thought it was going to be a decent-sized tie, in the end there were two contestants who ended up with the fewest votes: 

[personal profile] adoptedwriter   and [personal profile] kizzy 


The idea that either of them could be going home in Week 2 of any season is absolutely insane to me. But with all of the byes, and the will of the Wheel, that is exactly what is happening!!

I hope you both will be hanging out and Home Gaming, until the Wheel spins in the favor of letting you back in for your revenge!!  


***


In better news, there are TWO  Nullifiers that are coming into the game thanks to this week's twist.  Reminder - a Nullifier can negate a twist OR the result from any given week between now and the Top 5. The contestants who received them (it was a tie)   are [personal profile] fausts_dream and [personal profile] used_songs ! Congratulations!
rayaso: (Default)
rayaso ([personal profile] rayaso) wrote2025-07-01 01:42 pm

A Question of Quality - ChatGPT

The following story was generated by ChatGPT for use in my entry, War of the Words

A Question of Quality

Everyone in the village of Thistlebum agreed on three things: the ducks at the pond were suspiciously judgmental, old Mrs. Pewters ran the finest bakery for three counties, and Nigel Womblebottom had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Nigel, bless him, was the sort of man who could trip over a shadow and apologize to a hat stand. He was also, and this is important, very passionate about “quality.”

“I won’t settle for anything less than the highest quality!” he often declared, moments before ruining something irreparably.

This obsession began when he read a half-chapter of a self-help book titled Living Your Best Life with Quality. It was the only chapter he got through before using the book to prop up a wobbly coffee table. But those first 14 pages transformed him.

He began scrutinizing everything in his life: the thread count of his socks (“Unacceptable!”), the fluffiness of his omelets (“Flatter than my Uncle Barry’s jokes!”), and once, the alignment of clouds (“They lack symmetry. Frankly, I’m disappointed in nature.”)

His pièce de résistance, however, was his decision to open a shop called The Quality Emporium. No one knew what it sold. Including Nigel.

“It’s a concept,” he explained to Mrs. Pewters, who had stopped by on opening day out of a morbid sense of curiosity. “Quality is a feeling. A state of being. A—would you like to buy this artisan spoon?”

Mrs. Pewters peered at the “artisan spoon.” It looked suspiciously like a regular spoon, possibly borrowed from the local café.

“It’s £17,” said Nigel proudly. “It’s infused with excellence.”

“It’s also engraved with ‘Property of Harold’s Diner,’” she pointed out.

“Ah! Provenance!”

Despite his vague inventory and chaotic marketing strategy (his slogan changed weekly, with past winners including “Quality: It’s What’s for Lunch” and “Get Stuffed With Tasteful Objects”), the townspeople found Nigel’s emporium oddly comforting. Like a goose in a waistcoat—unnecessary, slightly baffling, but undeniably charming.

Each week, Nigel showcased a new “premium item” with great fanfare. There was the “High-Caliber Pebble” (a smooth stone he found near the car park), the “Superior Air” (an empty jar, sealed with duct tape), and the “Five-Star Chair Experience” (you sat on a slightly damp lawn chair while Nigel recited poetry about upholstery).

Yet, it was the “Luxury Apple” that finally brought him national attention.

“This apple,” he said, holding it aloft one misty Thursday morning, “is grown using the ancient whispers of monks and watered with glacier tears. It is the epitome of fruit-based quality.”

In reality, it was from the discount bin at Tesco, and he’d polished it with his shirt.

But word spread. A blogger from London wrote a piece titled “The Man Who Sells Quality by the Pound,” and soon, curious tourists began descending on Thistlebum in rented Vauxhalls.

Nigel was delighted. He began offering workshops like “Curate Your Inner Quality” (free if you brought your own folding chair) and “Quality Yoga” (regular yoga, but with more adjectives).

Naturally, success attracted skeptics.

One day, a posh gentleman with a notebook and a tie that screamed “committee” walked into the emporium.

“I’m from the International Bureau of Standards,” he said. “We’ve had reports of... qualitative irregularities.”

Nigel gasped. “You mean subpar quality?”

“Or possibly no quality,” said the man gravely.

Nigel panicked. He began frantically rearranging the spoons, dusting the pebbles, and giving the air jars a quick shake to “reinvigorate the molecules.”

The inspector, unimpressed, held up a jar.

“This says ‘Essence of Integrity,’” he noted. “It’s empty.”

“That’s the beauty of it!” Nigel beamed. “It’s what isn’t there that matters.”

The inspector sighed and flipped open his clipboard. “I’ll need to see your certifications.”

“I have a sticker from a yogurt lid that says ‘Well Done!’”

The man wrote something down and walked out shaking his head.

That evening, Nigel slumped on a beanbag labeled “Executive Recliner Deluxe,” wondering if his quality empire was doomed.

Then came Mrs. Pewters.

She walked in with a tray of scones and a scowl.

“Nigel Womblebottom,” she said, “you are the daftest man in three counties.”

“Only three?” he mumbled.

“But,” she continued, placing a still-warm scone in his hand, “you’ve reminded people that there’s joy in silliness, charm in nonsense, and yes—something oddly reassuring about a man who sells decorative gravel and calls it artisanal.”

Nigel blinked. “So... the quality was inside me all along?”

“No, the quality was that you cared, even when it didn’t make a lick of sense,” she said. “Also, your teacups are good for holding icing.”

From that day on, The Quality Emporium changed its slogan one final time:
“Quality: It’s Mostly Vibes.”

And the people of Thistlebum, who never took themselves too seriously anyway, kept coming. Because in a world full of chaos, questionable weather, and suspicious ducks, it was nice to know there was one place where quality didn’t mean perfection.

It just meant Nigel.
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clauderainsrm ([personal profile] clauderainsrm) wrote in [community profile] therealljidol2025-06-30 10:22 pm

The Wheelhouse - Week 2 - Day 2

 The poll for Week 2 is up: 

Make sure you check it out, read some new favorites and of course keep getting the word out! 


***

What sort of Chaos has the Wheel of Life brought into your life THIS week? 

On the plus side, the Governor gave all state workers an extra day off. Yay. 

On the negative side, that means I'll have one day without work distractions to keep me occupied. 

*looks over at the wheel and smiles* Maybe I'll have to find something else to do...  :) 

Seriously though, thanks for being here. It really means a lot to me. Especially now. 
alierak: (Default)
alierak ([personal profile] alierak) wrote in [site community profile] dw_maintenance2025-06-30 03:18 pm

Rebuilding journal search again

We're having to rebuild the search server again (previously, previously). It will take a few days to reindex all the content.

Meanwhile search services should be running, but probably returning no results or incomplete results for most queries.
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clauderainsrm ([personal profile] clauderainsrm) wrote in [community profile] therealljidol2025-06-29 08:33 pm

The Accusation

In Traitors/Werewolf/Mafia/Your reference here - when people come together and make this sort of accusation, the person selected is exiled from the community.

I decided not to go that far with this. :)

But also decided to "out" them to the public. Because if they are in fact the Killer, people need to know!!!

I can give you the following information:

There were 13 different suspects receiving votes. 3 of them were 1 vote shy of tying. The rest were 2 votes shy of that mark. Which makes sense. People are gathering information and playing hunches, in hopes of stopping the murder spree in it's infancy.

The group has named [personal profile] roina_arwen  as the prime suspect!

***
We will have to wait and see if there are any more poisonings this week, or if the angry mob of Idolers got it right the first time!