Heated Argument

themagzee

I was relieved to be sitting in the shade. Despite the salty breeze brushing the San Diego coast from the ocean, the heat was heavy. It made movement exhausting, so I sat at the side-street cafe without much conscious thought. I was watching a bead of condensation move slowly down my plastic cup of sweet tea, when an explosion erupted to my right. The sound of a young woman’s grating voice startled me to the present.

“You did wha’?” she boomed in a thick Brooklyn accent, glasses spilling their contents as she stood so quickly she knocked over anything standing tall on the table between her and a thick-necked man.

“Sorry, babe. It just happened,” the mass of muscles half-whispered in a matching Brooklyn accent, shifting his eyes left and right to the other patrons that were now captivated by the scene unraveling in front of them.

“I came all the…

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What Time is it?

Wow

Mary J Melange

Weekly Writing Challenge: Report on one event/gathering/happening from your week in Gonzo journalism style. 

old_clock_by_ami46

It’s an overcast, gray January day, with patches of icy rain stuck to the pavement of the parking lot. A steady and focused walk is required so that I don’t break a neck bone before getting to the metallic blue Hyundai that awaits in the garage. This is Saturday, the day I most often pay a visit to 94 year old mom, who lives 24 miles to the south.

Arriving at the one-story, two-building assisted living facility, I grab mother’s alcohol in the brown paper bag and saunter into the small, squarish vestibule. Kristy pushes the four numbers on the keypad of the security door that will allow my entrance, then pushes open the once locked door. Kristy smiles and says “Hi! How are you?” “Well, I’m good,” is the reply, “Does mom have any mail?”…

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What a Parent of a Child with a Brain Injury Wants You to Know

In An Instant Your Life Can Change Forever

Kristin Olliney and her miracle, Isabella, making new milestones every single day.

Last year I started an online support group on Facebook called “Parents of Children with Brain Injuries”.  For the first time since Isabella’s Acquired Brain Injury (ABI), I no longer felt alone.  I have other parents that can relate to how I feel, what is going on with Isabella and they quite simply just “get it”.  As a parent to a child with a brain injury we are often misunderstood.  We are seen as people who only talk about brain injuries, we are seen as ungrateful, we are seen as overprotective, we are seen as mean for having our child go to therapy etc.  Below are 12 things we want you to know about us:

1.)    We want you to know brain injuries are an invisible disability.  While our child may look “fine” or even as they did before their brain injury, they are no longer the same child they…

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Readymade

Tangerine and Cinnamon

Every summer my mother and I make preserves. We have two staples – Christmas chutney and red pepper relish – which, occasionally, we’ve augmented with piccalilli, boerenjongens (currants in brandy), and pickled pears. When we started this more than a decade ago, chutney- and jam-making was seen as the sort of thing that grandmothers did, and this despite the long tradition of preserving and pickling in South Africa’s fruit growing regions.

More recently, though, preserving has become fashionable. Recipes for chutneys abound on hipster blogs and cooler recipe sites; Punk Domestics has an enormous following; and even Girls features a maker of ‘artisanal mustard’ (Charlie’s profoundly irritating girlfriend, Audrey). This, though, is part of a wider trend: a rediscovery of domesticity, particularly – although not exclusively – among young women in their 20s and 30s. The existence of a café specialising in crafts –

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