I tried to use my lightly used 4.5 year old Modi 3 today and Windows 10 said there was a problem with my USB device and didn't recognize it. I rebooted, changed the cable, and tried a few other things until I figured out that wiggling the USB input fixed the problem.
I was po'ed because I never touch the thing, so the jack should not be broken. So I tore into it, made a mess, and wound up removing the USB input jack entirely. In it's place I've soldered in a 6 foot USB cord that exits through a new hole in the back panel. The pads for the USB port were too tiny for me to work with so I followed the traces straight to the various resistors and chips the original USB port was connected to.
It works and I'm relatively pleased, at least for the moment. (I think it will last .. maybe.) Micro-USB wasn't a great design to begin with and cold solder joints are the worst. I doubt that all of the stories I'm reading here involving hair dryers and heat guns has anything to do with a bad power management chip - it's bad soldering.
(On a site note, I'm never going to look at audio equipment with micro-USB ports on it again. A nice piece of equipment should not die because a 2 dollar part had a bad soldering job that can't be fixed without specialized equipment.)

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SUMMARY
The Finch app is an evidence based option for quick but effective self-care. I have no affiliation with the app. Just an enthusiastic user. Core functions are free, it is a nonprofit with the goal of improving mental health through gamefying self care and goal setting.
I think it could be helpful for caregivers as they cope with the stresses and try to juggle many demands. It may also head off depression that hits the majority of caregivers or at least give earlier notice so contact with professional help can come sooner.
The activities are small and easy to work into a busy day and it can be used for getting some dopamine for the daily tasks of caregiving.
More details follow and then a quick overview of the app interface. Im not an expert but can try to explain
REVIEW
Im just a user of the app, no other association but Ive found it really helpful. The app is Finch and it can be used on Android or iPhone. The free version is generous and you can do all the basics without a subscription. The activities are based on science on what improves mood.
It is first self-care but also a goal setting app. You sign in and receive a baby bird as a friend. The bird goes on adventures and encourages you. (I think there is science behind that--we identify more with less detailed faces).
It asks what "journeys" you want to go on and these will be global goals like self-care, tidy house or care for others. After you pick one or 2 then it suggests some simple goals for each journey and you can pick what works for you. For example. I picked Tidy up and it suggested make your bed and also return 1 thing to its place. You can also make your own goals (of course keep them simple, modeled on the "size" of theirs).
You will get a list of your goals. Each time you check off one as successful you get confetti, your bird dances and you earn some diamonds you can "spend" in the store for bird clothes and decor and buy different colors to turn your bird into whatever you want (eg cardinal, oriole, invented bird etc) with more options. The more you check in, the more options. I thought I wouldnt care about that but it is just amusing enough to bring me back. A lot of users say they didnt expect the bird to have that much of an effect.
Self-care activities can take as little as a minute (or less if you do a 1 word reflection on what is going on). They include: tracking your mood (see next paragraph), breathing, movement soundscapes, reflections, etc...you can choose what works for you.
Each time you enter it asks you to rate your mood and at the end of each week it reports back on how you were doing and what was associated with better feelings. Speaking of data they also have a number of quality self measures you can take as much as you want, such as on anxiety or depression.
I thought the app was good for caregivers as you can have journeys for yourself and a journey for your care recipient and you get confetti and a happy bird for all the small steps that otherwise get overlooked.
They encourage reflection but dont require it. They dont require anything. Nothing happens if you do nothing. The bird doesn't die, you dont get fined or guilted.
They also have what they call a seasonal event (monthly)-you get diamonds or something for your bird each day you check in and click on the treasure chest. The season is in the upper right.
GUIDE to the APP
Journeys are selected or created (also) in the upper right. And 3 dots mean edit whatever you are looking at. Goals have a good number of options like repeat or time of day.
You do want to routinely save a backup copy because they dont keep the information (privacy)-set a goal to do that weekly. See Settings.
Lower right is your list of your goals. The big Plus in the bottom middle gets you to goal options and activities.
Across the middle of the main screen is backpack (everything your bird owns).
Pawprints-your bird gets a pet and you collect them across journeys.
Tree- You can have friends of 2 types. 1 is just names you add of your support network. The other type are other Finch members.
However! the birds only exchange scripted positive messages and you dont get any other information about them. At most you see the outfit their bird is wearing. This makes it safe for young people (and you). If you go to Finch social media you will see many offerings of people who want to add friends. If you add a person new to Finch that is worth more but connecting to others is encouraged. I think that could help with the isolation that can accompany caregiving.
*If you want to try adding someone My name in Finch is Beth and my bird is Boudicca. Here is my friend code 8DJF7D8ZZX. Write the code down then you can type it into the designated spot with the tree insignia.
Mailbox is where weekly reports come.
The shopping cart is the store where you can see how many diamonds you have and purchase items for your bird to wear or for the birds house or body colors. You can also sell items back to the store (that may be a reward for sticking around long enough to grow your bird from a baby to a toddler or child). Click on all the options to see what they do.
You can switch back and forth between "Finchie Forrest" where the bird has adventurea with friends and your bird's house that you can decorate. A button/lever in that middle section does the switching.
That is a quick overview. Ask as you have questions and if I dont know soneone at finch will.
Thanks for reading this far. Hope some of you find this helpful. But if you dont, that is fine too. It is all good.

Lol you go on these boards and instead of having discussion they just do like democrats do and go strait to personal attacks like you are mental or this is just rambling meaning it is useless and meaningless lol. I could say the same thing. I can Prove that Richard Heart cashed out on people in Hex and Pulse by just pointing at his bragging about his ugly Gucci sleepwear he twerks in basically saying haha look at me I'm rich off your money. And with his few dozen half a million dollar to million dollar watches. That's all the proof I need to know he is cashing out living wealthy off your hard earned money. People just don't realize all this has happened before except not on computer networks. 100 years ago. 200 years ago. 300 years ago. Every 100 years we have an economy reset and that is when the scammers come out. It's why the US made most of fractional banking outside of traditional banking illegal. When crypto projects say if banks can do it why can't we they don't mean you. They mean themselves. They get Uber wealthy with your money and provide you nothing but hopium. It's why they require businesses to be well established before creating stocks. It's why they only allow credited investors. Yea ot sucks you have to be wealthy to play but in their view it's so people do not get robbed and scammed. Believe me. I want to like Hex and I want to like Richard Heart. I'm just having a hard time doing that because he keeps showing off his new expensive physical assets while you people buy his coins that do absolutely nothing.

I (22F) am a successful engaged woman with a six figure job. My twin sister (22F) "Melissa" meanwhile is a single mom to two crouchty crouch goblins "Taiylnn" and "Br'klyn" (not actual names but are similar; both are 4F). The father of her children was a homeless drug addict who disappeared while hiking in the woods long before they where born.
Melissa has always been the golden child. I don't know why, but it was that way for my entire childhood. At a parent-teacher conference wherein my teacher tried to tell them I was a genius, they only wanted to talk about my sister's progress. When I was competing at the national spelling bee, my parents were talking Melissa to Disney World for not failing third grade. I was featured in the local paper for saving a baby that had fallen down a well and my parents called to complain Melissa wasn't mentioned (she was at a friend's underage house party at the time). For our sweet sixteen, only Melissa's name was on the cake and she received a Maserati. I got a roll of toilet paper.
My sister flunked out of high school and got preggers while I attended an Ivy League school on a full scholarship and graduated top of my class. I gave a speech at my graduation about how great my parents were that had the entire audience give me a ten minute standing ovation. But my parents weren't even there because they were babysitting my sister's spawn while she got laid by a potential sugar daddy (didn't work out, of course).
My Dad gave Melissa a job in his company but she was so bad at it he had to fire her after she cost the company a million dollars. Meanwhile I got my job all on my own with no one helping me.
Recently I purchased a large house for my fiance "Bill" (22m, also makes six figures) and I to live in. When Melissa found out, she immediately begged for a room for her and her kids at my place. I do have plenty of rooms I haven't decided what to do with yet, but I told her no. Taiylnn and Br'klyn are autistic and will only eat foie gras (one time she tried haggis and they cried for a whole week), and I know she'll start bugging me to contribute to their food fund if I let her live here. Also my sister is super fat so she eats a lot as well.
My mom found out and begged to let her stay, at least in my pool house or bowling alley. I calmly said no, it was Melissa's fault for totaling the Maserati and leaving her and my parents homeless due to medical bills (she drunkenly crashed into a school bus teetering on a cliff), and it was their fault for giving her the car in the first place.
Bill thinks I should reconsider because currently my sister lives in a cave and fears her children will be eaten by wolves. He also suggested I should consider letting my parents live with us as well, though they are perfectly happy to live life scavenging on the beach and sleeping in abandoned beach houses.
So, Reddit, AITA for not wanting my family to move in with me?

Never saw myself taking my problems to reddit, but here we are. I’m a male, 20 years old, and hate myself in the truest form of the word. I hate my life in general, honestly.
Im going to start with the fact that I hate how I look. The mirror is my worst enemy. I have an abnormally large head, and a weirdly structured face.I have received multiple comments on it throughout my life. The thing that actually led me to creating this post was a situation that occurred today. I was walking through wal mart, and a girl was on her phone talking to someone walking in my direction. As I was walking past her, I heard the person on her phone say “What big head? I don’t see a big head. “ Which is kind of hilarious that she was clearly using my head as a landmark for the other person, which is understandable, i’d probably do the same, but it made me feel so terrible about myself that I set my cart aside and left the store shortly after. It invoked a shit load of memories that I couldn’t deal with with at the time. The people I work with often make fun of me. To my face, and behind my back. It makes my horrible, dreadful job even worse. I struggle with anxiety and depression, which I am now getting help for, but even with medication and therapy, the self hatred doesn’t go away. When I’m in public, or even around my family, I want to hide myself and not be seen.
As soon as I graduated from high school, I moved away from my parents because I couldn’t stand to be around them anymore. I got a job a few hours away from home and was hoping this would help. Holy shit was I wrong. My job is fucking terrible (Assembly line with ridiculous hours), and I feel stranded here. I feel like I have no one but myself. My parents moved relatively closer to me, and I moved back in with them for a few months hoping their support would make me feel better about myself and my life, but it didn’t at all. In fact, I would say it made me feel worse about myself and turned me into even more of a pussy.
I’ve tried working out, and I actually achieved a really nice physique for a little bit. I went from 160 lbs>180 lbs, and filled out my frame a little bit so my body would fit my head somewhat. This didn’t work, as I would start to struggle with severe body dysmorphia and began to think about suicide every day. I felt like no matter how my body looked, I would still have this horrid looking reflection in the mirror.
There’s so much more I could say, but I think you get the point. Hating yourself = not being able to enjoy anything, and I want to learn how to combat those thoughts somewhat.
Give advice, or don’t. I just needed to vent a lil.

Searched the sub and only found the opposite situation (being asked by landlord to pay many months up from). This happened almost a year ago and I shut down contact with the because it didn't smell right. Curious whether it was a scam attempt or not. Long story because I think the details adding up are important.
Partner and I were moving out of our owned house and wanted to rent it out, so first time looking for tenants. Listed on Facebook and Zillow. One person, jerry contacted me via phone. Basically he said that he lives in Atlanta (we are about 1,000 miles away in the US midwest) and that he is looking for a place for his mother, who lives in our town. He sounded 30s to 40s. Okay. The weirdness detector first went off because he elaborated that he is a very successful owner of Mutiple businesses in that he has multiple millions of dollars. This is why he wanted to get a place for his mom. Okay...maybe true but I would expect someone like that would look to buy rather than rent, and our house was like a typical midwest starter house. Probably on the nicer end of that class of house, but not millionaire renting a house for mom from across the country. And in particular the neighborhood is right on the edge of a rougher part of town. This is not a tucked away subdivision, it's an old part of town, a loud street. Still, fine, maybe. He says in that initial phone call that he wants to set a time for mom to come tour it, and also that he will be looking to pay 6 months of front. I was already feeling off about it so I did say we probably wouldn't be interested in that. He ignored that. We set up a time for mom. We were going to be there cleaning anyway. Robbery scam crossed my mind but we had already moved out and the house was empty and I made sure to mention that offhand in the call.
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So mom does show and is the age expected. However she's also with a man that age, which wasn't mentioned. Fair enough maybe. Women are unfortunately not safe by themselves. But it's the many small things adding up the suspicion. They were also in an awful beater car. Idk, you're going to rent mom a house but you have her car-less and being around by this type of guy? This guy was also just very odd as they toured the house. Comically gravelly voice. Him and mom moved fast. It's far less than what you would expect from someone trying to pick out a place to live. Barely asked any questions and didn't seem interested in any of the facts I told them. So maybe she just could tell right away it wasn't for her? Nah, at the end they both definitely yet unenthusiastically said it was perfect for her. She would be contacting her son to set up the payment and sign the lease. I mention I'll still need her to fill out the little free background check thing on the Zillow listing since she'll be living there.
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Maybe a day later i get an email from supposedly Jerry's secretary or assistant or something. Says they want to sign and again pay 6 months up front. I say in the email that both mom as tenant and Jerry as the person signing the lease need to do the background check thing. Again, very easy. There might have been a couple emails after of him/her saying something like he is paying 6 months up front, that's more valuable that a credit score check anyway. He absolutely refused to do the background check or have his mom do it. Or that might have been something he said on the call. Because soon enough he called me, not quite angry, but close, saying stuff to the tune of that. Reiterating that he is a multi millionaire and very successful. Here's where he got very angry and was yelling at me on the phone.
​
I essentially told him it's my first time doing this, we're just trying to be smart and we aren't anywhere near desperate to get the lease signed right now, plus we have other tour requests. I said from my perspective and in my experience (I work in a finance related field), a person or company would nearly always rather pay later than now, assuming no interest on paying later. It's cash flow. I know there are plenty of examples of the opposite, but I said this and some of the other things adding up are why it smells off (and that he is getting very mad). He said it's just convenient to pay and then not think about it, because such small amounts of money to him are rounding errors and not worth his time to think about every month. I did mention we could set up an auto-pay. He rambled loudly for an impressive amount of time, I wish i remember everything he said. But it was truly not believable at this point and was pretty funny - He kept just talking about how successful he was but the specific things he said sounded like things that someone very not successful (or a 12 year old) would think a very successful person would say. Hopefully this makes sense and you would be sketched out too. I think at this point I shut it down.
​
I couldn't quite figure out what scam this could be but I just didn't like it and we had other good prospects and no time crunch. Similar-ish things I found online weren't quite this situation. Most assumed scouting for burglary. Closest hits had that upfront payment not going through. Then either 1 they live there a few months free before we notice and evict or 2 something about they would change their mind, ask for a refund, we send the refund, but in reality what they initially sent bounces so they just got wired money form me worth 6 months rent. But we wouldn't have let them move in before the payment cleared nor would we have sent a refund if they signed a lease. Super curious.
So tl;dr someone cross country with a story that didn't smell right about his wealth and success wanted to rent our house for his mom. He refused to do the Zillow background check or have his mom do it, and he insisted on paying 6 months up front. He got very angry on the phone when I pushed back on those points and explained I believe politely why those points made me uncomfortable. Was this a scam and if so what was it?

Dan, James, Andrew and Anne Miller discuss reckless roping, pseudo puffins, trash talk and green gables.
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Fact #1 (Anne): Anne of Green Gables is from the same island as the world's largest potato sculpture
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Fact #2 (Dan): In 1952 a cowboy successfully lassoed a plane as it flew past his house
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Fact #3 (James): One of the best ways to trick puffins to a new nesting ground is with mirrors because they like to be in groups and can't tell the difference between a puffin and the reflection of a puffin.
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Fact #4 (Andy): Trash talk works better on darts players than shot-putters
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I drove home that night like nothing had happened. Little did I know that there was a rouge darkness lurking inside of me waiting to come out months later.
I pleaded with you to stop, I was in pain. You continued, looked me in the eyes and said “no” angrily. I tried to move your hand but wasn’t strong enough. I froze, and let you have your way with me. The pain was excruciating, and those 15 seconds felt like 15 minutes. I have relived that moment in my nightmares, and in my memories. It never goes away, and I’m terrified of that happening to me again some day.
Your arrogant choice to violate me has left me with irreparable scars that I’m going to bear the rest of my life. My life now is confined to those 15 seconds of torment you put me through for your selfish pleasure. I have been imprisoned by your selfish need for control and power for eternity. I will never recover fully, and I’m doomed to forever chase my tail and relive the pain and betrayal I felt that night. I have trouble even accepting it happened some days.
I was in denial until it all came out this winter. My dignity, my sense of self, and my body image have been shattered and I’m left to pick up the broken glass with my bare hands. I look in the mirror at myself in disgust after every shower. I watch my back in public because I’m suspicious of everyone around me. I don’t sleep some nights because I’m replaying the events of that night in my head. I wake up sweating from nightmares about being revictimized.
I just want to know why you did it? Was it worth the 15 seconds of pleasure you received from watching me in pain as you had your way?

I have a unique situation. A few years ago at the age of 30 I met my biological father. I moved across country from Michigan to Arizona to help him with his business and lived on the same property as him. Everything was going really good for about a year and a half until I started noticing someone was coming in my house and I started to put things together. I didn’t know anything about crafting or black magic or cults or anything like that before this but I came into my house one day and noticed the grate at the bottom of my fridge wasn’t on properly so when I went to put it on the right way and it fell off completely I noticed there was a thick layer of dust but there was very fresh drawings and markings written in the dust. I asked a friend if it was Mexican gang shit not knowing what was going on lol he immediately told me it was black magic and said someone was messing with my food. Its a really story to have to text but I’ll list some other things that happened and I’d like to know if anyone has any insight . I’ve done a lot of research since then and still can’t figure out what the intentions were. So for starters it was a little town about 30 minutes from the Mexican border south of Tucson . My “dad” had several people my age working for him and I believe now they were all in on whatever they were doing to me. At first I thought he wasn’t a part of it and his workers just wanted me gone but I’ll explain why I know he was definitely in on it. Some of the things I noticed are
-They used a wood burner tool or engraved symbols and faces and letters into basically everything wood in my house and around the property like on wood posts and stuff. The letters would be large and stand out by theirselves it would be L,B, and I think R. - would make a almost evil smiley face and I would take my pants off at night and lay them in my bed and noticed the face on my ass in gel pen. They were putting it on my chairs. - switched a black and white candle with one of their own. -the wiring under my fridge was in Arabic or reverse Arabic so I think -under my front porch I found a canoe made out of a large dead frog body. It looked like it was to resemble a boat at least -also under porch found a cutout or some type of homemade rabbit made out of plastic or paper and it had half of one of those plastic Easter eggs in its mouth like a rabbit eating it’s own child or egg or whatever . -dead cat in my car - dead cat in my house - I always slept on my couch but on my bed I noticed a very thin layer of candle wax had been poured on every crease in the mattress . If you look at a mattress you’ll know that had to take a lot of time and effort. -my dad insisted we didn’t need tack strips when we laid the carpet in the trailer and in the room I later found a blue steel razor blade and next to it the word MAD in pen or marker. -the only friend that kept assuring me I wasn’t crazy had a nice 2020 truck and text me one day and said there was blood all over his back seat . I doubt he did that to his nice truck . It looked like a murder scene and when I saw it I noticed the same markings and faces on the car seat and doors . Looked like it was with a pencil eraser . - there was a panel loose in my jeep by my left foot where a hood release is . I pulled it back a little and saw something . When I loosened the panel even more it was a Lego figure and his head rolled off . I know I didn’t put that there lol. - different color dirt than usual and pebbles under carpet in front of door and rubbed all over my jeep tire. Probably cemetery dirt I think .
There’s more but you get the picture. So also in my Jeep I had a tool box and in every drawer there was 6 small twigs in the shape of a U or 6 pieces of plants or flowers. On the outside the drew a few things but one was a stick figure being attacked by wolves . When I came back to Michigan I was attacked by two dogs and had to get 69 stitches . The wound and scar is in the shape of a weird smiley face.
I refused to drive the Jeep and had a rental car and some how fell asleep and was in a head on collision with a family of 5 . Everyone was okay some how. I was going 60 and didn’t have a seatbelt on . Woke up in the passenger seat and the door just opened up for me to get out. Not knowing anyone else I called father of the year to come get me. When we got in his truck he said oh if you were in your Jeep you would have died for sure.
We get back to the house and he wanted me to stay there instead of sleeping at my place next door. He had a 80 inch tv that was turned off so it was basically like a mirror. I’m watching him and his gf lay a mattress on the floor and putting sheets and blankets on it then I see his gf pull something out of a clothes hamper . I can’t even make this shit up . I saw a 2 foot doll wearing one of my shirts. And had strews all over the head . Attached to the screws was some type of string to resemble hair with ties or bows half way down the length . I know they were screws because he twisted a couple of them . Then he put it in a type of dresser thing with a glass door and rolled a rolling closet with clothes in front of it . I could have shit my pants . That was the last time I was there. I immediately told him I had to get my son something from Walmart and needed to go now so I can send it first thing in the morning. He took me to Walmart and I ordered a Uber . He was right next to me and wouldn’t leave my side so I made up the only thing I thought of and said I think his phone was making me sick , something about electronics and said give me 5 feet and walked outside. I get in the Uber and he almost didn’t see me but came up to the car hands cupped around his eyes looking in the windows and saw me. He told the driver I was mentally unstable, on drugs and if he left with me he’s calling the cops. I told the guy I just met this man that’s my dad,showed him my license and explained I ordered the ride I offered him more money and asked him to please go. He said he didn’t want any trouble and cancelled the ride. So now I’m outside of Walmart with the crazy person I call dad and he’s like wtf man you’re just gonna bail on me lol. So I just told him I saw the voodoo doll. He started going nuts denying it and making a huge scene. He never did admit it but he said whatever I think he was doing he was trying to help me. I called the kid Colton they had the blood in his truck and he came and got me.
After 4 years I still don’t know exactly what was going on. If anyone knows what might have been going on I’d like some opinions. Do you think they were trying to sacrifice me or initiate me or what?
One of his workers did drop hints or warnings when I would bing stuff up. He told me “your dad doesn’t work me alit around Christmas time” I was like uh ok and said yeah it’s orders from higher up . Then told me there was like 5 or 6 satanic cults right around there. I’ve came to find out he was telling the truth more than likely.
Thanks for reading. Love and light

Today was a bad day, starting with my mistakenly wearing my house slippers (closed toes) instead of my normal work shoes, which resulted in horrible foot pain.
Then there was the customer with enough plants for the Biltmore Estate and he thought all of them were half off, but 3 out of 40 weren't, and he thought I was supposed to go through and find them (impossible when you have that many and they don't stand out on the screen) and when I said "the only way I can be sure is to rering everything all over again and besides some of them aren't marked down" and he flat out said to do so that he didn't care how long the line was, I told him "I'm going to have to skip you and come back later, I can't have the whole line waiting over 3 plants."
The worst perhaps was this situation where I rung up probably 34 items only to see that very few of them actually scanned because it became stuck on a tricky item and unlike other places where the scan sound changes and alerts you, Lowe's doesn't so you don't know unless you watch every item as you scan, and I flat out refuse to do that because it's too busy and I'm not walking all the way from the flat bed to the screen with every single item as I scan it. That's way too inconvenient and tedious. I became so angry I turned the machine off and kept turning it off again numerous times to where it was probably 10-15 min before I was ready to resume, and people left the store. In my mind, if you can't work properly and have the damn sense to change the scan sound from "beep" to "dee doo" so I know immediately something is wrong, then we might as well just eff up everything else while we're at it.
Now for the useful workaround.
I hate it that you can't quickly mark a plant as distressed with the scanner gun, and that it doesn't show on the screen to where you can easily see it. When you try and go back to the screen to mark them, you can't tell where you've been because there are no obvious flags on the screen such as a symbol or by changing the color of the row.
My fix: using the gun I add 9+ to the quantity, so I can mark it with the gun vs having to walk back every time, and so when changing multiple line items I can see my place easily because the large quantities make it obvious. Thus, if it's 1 distressed plant, I mark it 91. If it's 4, I mark it 94. If it's 36, I mark it 936. I simply go back when I'm done and remove the 9 from the quantity, and with the large dollar amounts it's really obvious which ones to override, you don't lose your place.
I appreciate your listening to me vent, and maybe my workaround can help some of you.

Hi there! I’m about to have a super busy summer, but I get lonely at nights very often.
About me. I’m 30 and already have some gray hairs popping up?! super lame. every time i look in the mirror I see a new one. I’ve started naming them after who probably gave me the gray hair 😂
I’m learning who I am. I still have to remember not to project my insecurities on other people (bigger gal here) and also cut the people pleasing shit out. It’s definitely a work in progress😂
I’m really lame and that’s okay. I like awful jokes and puns and I like making fun of bad movies.
Anyway, I also have some other posts in my history, I’ve posted here before😂 So if you wanna keep each other company via chatting, hit a girl up!

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor.
Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we liked it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lady about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered crotch. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it then solemnly showed it to me.
It appeared to be a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed. Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things had used to look like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a big, strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a special gift to grow up with the tree. This time I think we should give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more.
This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow Weep For Me?

I took my great nieces and nephew to the Dollar Tree for coloring books and colored pencils. The kids found some toys and I let them pick out a few each. I didn't realize that DT now carries $5 items. So we are checking out and the cashier timidly says, "Um this is $5, do you still want it?" I look at the item and see clearly the $5 sticker. I was a tad shocked but after quickly glancing at the kids I just shrugged and said, " Yes I will still buy it. I should have seen the price." Well each of the kids had picked out a $5 toy. And each one she nervously asked if I still wanted them. I said," Yes, please." After the 3rd toy I said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to get angry at you because I know you don't set the prices." She audibly exhaled and said "Thank you". The store had only been opened a few hours that morning and this incredibly sweet and visibly stressed young person looked as though she had already taken a weeks worth of abuse from customers that morning. I was able to get a heartfelt(?) laugh out of her when she asked if I wanted my receipt and I said, "No thank you, it might make me cry." But what really makes me cry is the way human beings are treated so horribly every single day. I often see the fear in the eyes of cashiers as I approach them because I am a middle aged white woman, and I worry a lot so I look angry I think. I constantly see people visibly exhale when they realize that I'm not an entitled a*****e. And I will apologize for being a stupid customer. Because I am. I mean the $5 price tags were big enough for my old eyes to see and still missed them. So just a shout out to everyone who has to deal with human trash everyday, my heart goes out to you and I hope you know are better humans than those who treat you terribly.

This is more a gift to a friend (Hi Kelly~) who loves unique and wonderous apparel in DnD! Go wild, have fun and get creative with your ideas~ (BTW - Most of these are things pulled from my personal concepts list, which is an huge blend of various sources and cool ideas, if your concept is among these please do contact me so I may put appropriate credit)
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1. A long, diaphanous, red veil that shimmers with crushed amber shards that dance like sultry flames whenever its bearer breathes or moves.
2. A Military Uniform, in white and sky-blue color, with a unicorn emblem
3. Night-blue silk robe with tiny sparkles that seem to shimmer like stars
4. A finely tailored bodice made from the softest, most supple leather taken from yearling lambs. The bodice is lined with samite and trimmed with beaded lace.
5. A wool shawl, embroidered with scenes of pastures.
6. An elegant dress with rich black silk back and sides and a deep purple velvet insert in the front creating a striking combination of fabrics. The solid half-sleeves have a beautiful floral pattern, tree-cornered lace that falls into a point of silver-thread piping.
7. A delicate shawl, lacy and fringed, woven from pearly spider silk.
8. A dark blue silk mantle lined with white mink fur and embroidered in abstract silver diamond patterns at collar and hem.
9. Sleeping Gown - A classic out of time, sleep wear that predates pajamas, the sleeping gown is the flowing sleeping dress that makes every girl feel like a princess. They are expensive but apparently the nobleman is crazy rich and he is paying. If you pick this you want to feel like a princess, a warrior princess or are taking the opportunity to have someone else pay for the most opulent garment that technically counts as underwear that a girl can buy in stores. This Sleeping gown absorbed both the residual occult energies left behind by an animism ritual practices and the stuff of legends that you and your compatriots made that night. As a result this sleeping gown has become literally the stuff of fairy tales as anyone wearing it gains the ability to communicate with birds through the use of intricate and beautiful whistled melodies.
10. A pair of finely embroidered silk shoes that make you want to dance -- and apparently dance much better than you usually do.
11. A knee-length linen tunic so fine as to be nearly sheer, with multicolored embroidered bands at all hems depicting wildlife, flowers and fantastical beasts.
12. A heavy, exquisitely brocaded robe beaded with pearls.
13. Sakura Kimono - When worn, you can summon a gentle rain of cherry blossoms, even indoors. Iteasily puts people in a good drinking mood. And they're so pretty. It also lets you magically unsummon the petals to easily clean up afterwards
14. Three Dresses and a Donkeyskin - You receive three dresses. One with all the colors of the sky being the most beautiful blue of heaven, one bright as the sun (not literally - it won't burn your eyes off) of gold and diamonds, and one with all the beauty of the moon. Also, you get the hide of a donkey to wear with a special property - so long as you're wearing it, people will think you're dirt ugly no matter how clearly attractive you are.The three dresses do the opposite, enhancing your beauty.
15. Purring Scarf: When you pet the scarf, it purrs softly. Popular with noble magic users.
16. A veil of creamy, silken fiber shorn from a unicorn’s mane, hung from a braid of cloth-of-gold.
17. A silken night-robe of midnight blue and black, decorated in mystic imagery of clouds and stars in lavender and silver.
18. A blue silk djellaba, embroidered with floral patterns in silver thread.
19. A veil of black silk decorated with crimson embroidery and trimmed with tiny gold drops.
20. An elven poncho covered in long strands that resemble weeping willow, wisteria and ivy vines.

Jeysus it was a mess, I paid to rent a chainsaw so I can cut a tree limb my insurance company wanted me to take care of. The stupid thing won't start. I look up the manual online (the rental came with zero documentation, real classy) and from what I could tell it just wouldn't. I call em up, they ask me if I pressed every switch and told me just to bring the thing in.
Im angry but I was taught respect. They didn't give me a busted chainsaw on purpose, so I drive up there and they confirm it won't work(I got to keep my man card there, 😅) they give me a new one. It runs!
I take it home, get the tree limb down. I turn it off to xlimb down the ladder, go to start it again.
It wont.
I check gas and oil, press every button while tuggin on the cord, try locking and unlocking the blade...nothin.
Worst part is the limb was blocking a road leading to a different house, it was too heavy to move easily, so I had to use my hand saw to trim off the longer branches and get it out of the way. It's still just a giant tree limb sitting next to my fence so thats great. Could have been worse.
I have had a life long fear of heights and ladders, but I bought a house last year and I had to buy a ladder accept that I would have to climb it.
It's been a tough year. And Home Depot selling me crap equipment didn't help me at all today, but I got the tree limb cut and my insurer will be pleased.