Doing it right...

[Sgt. Howard]

What folks do not realise- McAdams is the great-great grandson of John Loudon McAdam- inventor of a road surface that still bears his name...

[DinkyInky]

What folks do not realise- McAdams is the great-great grandson of John Loudon McAdam- inventor of a road surface that still bears his name...

*snickergiggles*

[Just Old Al]

---

"Just wait 'til he finds the tea maker we installed custom..."

Just as well they upgraded the stock Teasmade that the ambulances came from - the cream chiiller on that thing was horrid.

[DinkyInky]

---

"Just wait 'til he finds the tea maker we installed custom..."

Just as well they upgraded the stock Teasmade that the ambulances came from - the cream chiiller on that thing was horrid.

I would almost kill for one. I had an old one I got for a pierogi filling recipe from a church basement sale, but when my ex saw the old asbestos cord, he junked it before I got back with the new cord.

I threw my second best cast iron skillet at him...unfortunately, he ducked just in time.

[Just Old Al]

I would almost kill for one. I had an old one I got for a pierogi filling recipe from a church basement sale, but when my ex saw the old asbestos cord, he junked it before I got back with the new cord.

I threw my second best cast iron skillet at him...unfortunately, he ducked just in time.

My uncle in Loughborough has standing orders to prowl the shops for one for me. I want one of the timered ones - you wake up to a brewed cup of tea. I tried it with a coffeemaker...it's just not the same.

[DinkyInky]

I would almost kill for one. I had an old one I got for a pierogi filling recipe from a church basement sale, but when my ex saw the old asbestos cord, he junked it before I got back with the new cord.

I threw my second best cast iron skillet at him...unfortunately, he ducked just in time.

My uncle in Loughborough has standing orders to prowl the shops for one for me. I want one of the timered ones - you wake up to a brewed cup of tea. I tried it with a coffeemaker...it's just not the same.

Yeah. Unless said coffeemaker never made coffee. Oh, and you put looseleaf in the carafe. Oh, and the carafe can't be that candy glass crap.

My current little love in picture...my rose parade.

[Dave]

This seems like a made-to-order opportunity for some of the more maker-tech-oriented steampunk crafters to address, doesn't it? What could possibly be more stream-retro than a clockwork-controlled stream-powered tea maker?

Granted, there would be risks involved... the selection of tea you could use it with might be limited. Accidentally fill it with Earl Grey and it would launch itself at warp speeds. Lapsang Souchong... the silly thing would probably become sentient and declare that its destiny is to burn London to the ground.

[DinkyInky]

This seems like a made-to-order opportunity for some of the more maker-tech-oriented steampunk crafters to address, doesn't it? What could possibly be more stream-retro than a clockwork-controlled stream-powered tea maker?

Granted, there would be risks involved... the selection of tea you could use it with might be limited. Accidentally fill it with Earl Grey and it would launch itself at warp speeds. Lapsang Souchong... the silly thing would probably become sentient and declare that its destiny is to burn London to the ground.

Or put on "the hat" and become a consulting detective

[Just Old Al]

Al walked over to Glytch (again at the center of his web of computers) and handed him his Samsung cell phone and a hand-scribbled list.

“Can you put your crawler factory to work for me and find these pieces of music? If you could dump them to the phone and to a USB stick in decent quality I’d appreciate it.

Glytch, mystified, said “Sure – take me a few minutes and it’s illegal but that doesn’t much concern me at present. Why?”

“Just humor an old man - call it a training aid.” With that Al moved off toward a cup of industrial coffee and a long think. More practice was in the cards and he needed to distract himself any way possible.

[GlytchMeister]

Glytch, now covered in sawdust, sweat, and grime, smiled down at his abominable creation. It was a horrifically loud impeller design he had found online, created specifically to produce two certain sound frequencies.

Very specific frequencies - when the thing was at full blast, it sounded exactly like an air raid or tornado siren.

The motor was controlled by a switch, which was controlled by a secondary electromagnetic switch, which was finally hacked and wired into an old laptop he'd found in the basement. The laptop ran a program that listened for alarms from Stan's security network.

If anything came within the threat range, the siren would activate, and it would undoubtedly wake even Glytch himself, who can and has slept through a volleyball hitting him in the face.

Dusting himself off, Glytch lugged the entire contraption to the office before finding a shower to scour away the accumulated filth of manual labor.
After his shower (and subsequent cleaning of the shower so he didn't feel guilty), Glytch sat down at the office desk to check on his crawler swarms and see the progress of the DEMP - despite his insistence it could be towed in one piece, the MIB agent overseeing the transport of the device to Camp Ripley decided to disassemble the DEMP first, then put it back together on-site.
"Why? It has wheels! It wouldn't even be that hard to create a power redirect to-"
"I don't care, and for god's sake, NO! I don't want it to be able to move if it gets bit by lightning and becomes sentient or something!"
"That's... Possible?"
"Remember kid, magic is a thing."

Glytch didn't know how to argue with that.

Nothing dramatic had turned up so far in his crawler swarm. The DEMP was on track to undergo it's first test on Black Friday. Glytch smirked at the possibilities before Al popped in and dropped off a list of music and a phone. It only took a few minutes to get everything - he had a program that could rip the audio out of YouTube videos for free. Now all that was left was to wait for everything to finish downloading.

Glytch leaned back and yawned. Deciding he had been productive enough, he got up and went to his bedroom to prepare for a trudge through the snow to the haybales and some archery practice, smiling both in satisfaction and in anticipation. His visits with Eme' had become nightly, and he had noticed her overall moods shifting, first more negatively... But recently, she had been ever more cheerful.

[DinkyInky]

Walking towards the clearing, Glytch noticed the haybales were missing.

"Okay, Eme'. I'm here for practice. You said it would be different. I'm ready."

"Are you really? How delightful." purred a familiar voice from the shadows.
Glytch instinctively dropped into a shallow stance and gripped his bow. "Where's Emerauld?" He asked, immediately wary and on alert. "Is she..."

Gliding out from the shadows, stepped Safyr. Glytch noted she wore a long, ornate chainmail shirt, and a huge, hooded, fur lined cloak with dark iridescent scales covering it in addition to the usual shadowy dark mottled leathers she wore for reports. "She is fine. You have done so well, we decided to see if you were ready for a moving target."

Glytch blanched. "There is no way I could hit you--"

Laughing, she replied, "No, not me...at least...not yet. Practical 'living' targets, however..." She turned away, preparing a spell. "J'bober, come!" she called, throwing a handful of chips of some sort to the ground.

Glytch glanced at the chips briefly before he was distracted. "I get the feeling I don't want to know what those are..."

The Spectre, a copy of the Grim Reaper made real said, "Awaiting orders, Mistress."

It was wearing a cape hood and an ornate comedy mask(courtesy of Emerauld no doubt) to cover the creepy face, which did make it less so.

"Oh for hate's sake Eme'!" Safyr growled, clearly exasperated.

Glytch furrowed his brow, thinking. "Um, there is no way I'm going to be able to practice with th...er him. It's not that I don't appreciate it, but I'm less likely to see a grim reaper in public outside of Halloween or a heavy metal concert, and you said practical targets. Can I have my targets back?"

Glittering in the light the cloak was so impressive...and terrifying.

"I'm almost afraid to ask..." he thought. "Arg...what the hell..."

"By the way, what metal are those scales made from? It's amazing anodized metalwork."

Puzzled momentarily, she said, "Metal?" then realising what he meant, she grinned and said, "Dragon. More durable than metal, lighter too. Comes in many colours."

Yup. Terrifying.

"So you want a walking target. Sensible. Very well."

Waving her hands and throwing more chips, the spectre spun around, and with an audible "pop!" J'bober turned into a skeleton.

Heavily resisting the urge to laugh, he noted that while he was still wearing the mask, he also noticed a "shoot me" sign on his back while he crosses his arms and tapped his foot like Sonic the Hedgehog in his "I'm waiting" pose. J'bober wore only a loincloth...that had a quilted bullseye strategically placed, and ribbons tied into bows with glowing centers in various spots.

Safyr explains, ignoring the additions, "The ribbons tied over vitals and disarming spots have a glowstone attached. Hit it, and it falls off denoting a critical hit. He will begin with a shuffle, walking towards you until he "tags". We count the hits, and begin again. Each time you get a flawless, he will then get faster. Ready? Begin!"

J'bober cackles, and starts off doing the standard shuffle walk, arms raised. Focusing, he quickly draws arrows and fires them rapidly at the glowing spots, wincing as he hears one whistle through the ribcage and hit Safyr, sliding down her cloak while she looks on.

Recovering from the momentary shock, he keeps moving and firing until too close, the skeleton leaps for him saying, "Braaaains!"
Adrenaline and a small amount of fear taking over, Glytch swung his bow in an arc, removing the head, which turned it back into the chips he was summoned with.

"Sorry! I got kinda freaked out there. I didn't know he talked in this form."

"How very delightful!" she said, clapping before continuing, "Normally he goes on, leaving his head behind. Very unusual for a human to be able to unsummon him."

"What about prayer?"

"What? Oh. Oh nonono. I researched very hard to create a servant that cannot be turned. Evil priests, doing evil things under the guise of good because they like power are a grade of evil I do not let live. Only two things could unsummon him. I do it, or...hmm." she trailed off, deciding not to elaborate.

She summoned the skeleton again to keep Glytch from asking what she was about to say. This time J'bober wore an orange "hat", made to look like a traffic cone.

Rolling her eyes, she queried, "Are you well? Good, Begin!"

Beheaded again.

This one wore a cauldron on it's head.

"Again!"

Holding a woven grass door.

"Again!"

Holding a quarter staff, only to polevault with it...and get smashed to bits.

"Again!"

Wearing a very crazy suit, and fleece on it's head, and posing.

"Again!"

I'm sensing a distinct pattern here... Glytch began to smirk.

"My magic is near gone...I was not expecting to use so much, so this is the last one...make it count."

Throwing the chips into the air, her hands glowed violet. A swarm of skeletons shuffle toward him, then begin to dance...one even doing a fair job of moonwalking.

Ha! So that's why Eme' asked me about music and video games earlier...

Humming, "Thriller", he lets loose a volley of arrows...well, as fast as he can draw them while moving...then, within a minute, it's over and the skeletons vanish.

Safyr mutters something about "forgetting which elf half her sister is", then says aloud, "Not bad, friend Glytch, despite unsummoning every single one of my servants. Is there reason you avoid head and heart?"

"Um, yeah. I'm not going to kill anyone. If I can disarm, or hurt someone to remove them from the fight, I'll do it. The dead can't learn anything."

"Fair enough. My magic is depleted, and I...was unprepared. It grows cold anyway. Go to the camp. My sister is making something she called, 'Sumores and hot chocolate' to warm you."

Grinning, he strode to the camp to see how an elf would make a human treat.

Receiving a mug, he looked at it in surprise to notice flower petals floating in it.

"Um, thanks?"

"You did say you liked a 'ton' of marshmallow floating in it, but since the root sinks, I thought this must be what you meant."

"Ohh...so the s'mores..." he replied, realisation dawning.

"...are made with fried Althaea blossoms."

"But you know about chocolate," he stated, confused.

"What woman doesn't?"

Sipping at it, he was pleased to note it had a light marshmallow flavour.

"So this is the plant that marshmallows used to come from."

"I use it to get unruly children to drink their medicine."

"Makes sense. Our marshmallows are really sticky, super sweet, very artificial, and float on the hot chocolate til it melts...we call that 'cocoa' for short, though it probably is confusing for some. It's a bit like 'soda' and 'pop.'
I'll see if anyone knows where I can find the real ones, so you can figure out how to make them later, as many recipes on the internet have junk you won't use."

"Thank you. I am...sorry I have been distant. Things...were...strained. I am better now." Eme' shifted uncomfortably.

Glytch peered at her from over his mug. "I don't like it when my friends are upset, so I'm glad you're better. Now pass me one of those s'mores."

[Just Old Al]

On his return from the Alexander campus, Al decided it was time to have a conversation with Daisy about the events of the afternoon a bit back. Daisy had not particularly moderated on her feelings on the elf and the resulting tension was doing neither of them any good. He frankly wanted none of it – having been an inveterate bachelor this type of interaction he normally avoided like burning stockpiles of C-4 and nuclear-powered Lanthan toys.

However, this needed to be settled for both their sakes.

He found Daisy in the kitchen in human form busily engaged in pie baking. Al had never seen this side of her before, the energetic, floury matron working with Rosalita and the maids. Edward, ever attentive but wisely avoiding the fray, was off to the side available to help whenever needed. Always a bit of a trencherman, the smell of baking and the row of cooling pies gave him an overwhelming hunger for a slice of pie, and for the wonderful dam who was at the center of it.

Latest batch of pies into the ovens, Daisy sat down with him while the next batch (squash) were prepared.

“Need to talk to you, love. Did something a few days ago that I need to let you know about – and you may be a bit angry with me.” Even despite the good start Al was having trouble focusing – she was just so damned attractive – but he plunged on.

“I buggered the situation back when we had that meeting in the glade.” Al went on to detail the logic error he’d committed, and his mis-handling of the situation.

“In short, I ended up forgiving Eme completely for the craziness – and I gave her your forgiveness as well in your name. I know I went well beyond the bounds of propriety on that, but I couldn’t see any other right way out of it.

Now, I need to ask your forgiveness for doing it. I also need to ask you to put the whole damned thing behind us – I hate that any of this ever happened and especially what happened to you getting caught up in my stupidity, but it’s not doing you any good.”

Daisy sat very still for a few moments…which lengthened into a time span that was making Al decidedly nervous. At the end of it, face sober, she began to speak.

“You made a command decision on the spot and that I will never fault you for. It’s what you do – you don’t hesitate, you do what needs to be done. It’s one of the things I love about you.

You’re right – this needs to come to an end. Emerauld made a mistake plain and simple – the people she was dealing with were not you and that’s what it is. Because of it she overreacted, and things went to Hades from there. I’m still unhappy about it – I don’t have your capacity to forgive – but I will do it. She’s off the hook as far as I‘m concerned.”

Al was greatly relieved. Daisy was a dam of her word, and this was burying the hatchet – and not in the elf’s sternum which is what he half-suspected was going to happen.

“NOW, I have an important job for you. This will require all of your skills and may be a bit too much for you, but we’ll try.” Daisy’s eyes glittered with the light of amusement, and perhaps a tiny bit of malice. She stood up walked over to the counter, selected a kitchen basket full of butternut squash, a peeler and a slop bowl, and walked back to the table.

Al looked on, dismayed, as she dumped the pile in front of him, with the instructions “Peel, cube and the peelings and seeds go into the slop bowl for composting.” She then whirled back to the pie baking and took charge again.

Edward, hiding in the corner, snickered and was quickly stilled by a warning glance from Al promising mayhem if it continued.

Chagrined but amused, he selected the first of the squash and got to work. He didn’t care – he was actually a very good cook and this bothered him not at all – and it gave him an excuse to be in the kitchen and underfoot.

[Julie]

Al, you'll tell us if/when you ever post the interaction between you, Daisy, and Emerauld in the glade in that placeholder post, right?

[Just Old Al]

Al, you'll tell us if/when you ever post the interaction between you, Daisy, and Emerauld in the glade in that placeholder post, right?

Yes, i will certainly do so. Writing that one is being a stone-clad bitch.

Assume that:

Eme asked for forgiveness and offered a serious personal token of intent.
Al blew it bigtime out of ignorance (never use idiom to an elf)
Daisy is much more protective of the old geezer than he deserves.

[jwhouk]

---

After discovering the main source of the water leaks, work on bolstering the fill under the warehouse was begun in earnest. Neither proved very difficult; Jacob's underwater recon squad had found the leaks even before Whitaker had left for the day. Repairs were done so that when Whitaker arrived on site that next morning, the standing water inside the warehouse had disappeared.

The week of Thanksgiving, Dominic's head spun every morning when he came into work. The floor was stabilizing by Wednesday afternoon, and – when he stopped in on Black Friday to see if anything had failed over the holiday – he found that the interior of the warehouse was mostly finished. The standing water was gone; no new cracks in the floor and masonry had developed; and – most impressive – the electricity had been restored to the building.

Unfortunately, this resulted in some new revelations about the warehouse: there was some work that needed to be done on the roof. And it would need to be done soon, as there were reports that the first week of December might include heavy, wet snow in the weather forecast.

Dominic fretted about this over the holiday weekend, but he was pleasantly surprised when he arrived on Monday to discover that the roof had been reinforced and completely retiled. Some finishing touches were still needed inside, but the warehouse would, indeed, be functional and ready for use for the Epimethus/Wahnee wedding.

[FreeFlier]

Placeholder for above piece...once I'm not mad at the internets for eating the post twice now...

I write anything of anything of any size in Word then copy/paste. Very pleasing when the infernal machines eat the text . . .

--FreeFlier

[DinkyInky]

Placeholder for above piece...once I'm not mad at the internets for eating the post twice now...

I write anything of anything of any size in Word then copy/paste. Very pleasing when the infernal machines eat the text . . .

--FreeFlier

I'm on a Kindle, and word doesn't work. All the writing "app" thingies that do work have wonky centering and stuff, and the board doesn't recognise it.

I compose in post-it, then add all the pretty things like quotes and italics and bold things here. It's just it wouldn't let me post it, so I had to redo all the fiddly bits.

[FreeFlier]

Placeholder for above piece...once I'm not mad at the internets for eating the post twice now...

I write anything of anything of any size in Word then copy/paste. Very pleasing when the infernal machines eat the text . . .

I'm on a Kindle, and word doesn't work. All the writing "app" thingies that do work have wonky centering and stuff, and the board doesn't recognise it.

I compose in post-it, then add all the pretty things like quotes and italics and bold things here. It's just it wouldn't let me post it, so I had to redo all the fiddly bits.

Yeah, that would be a problem . . .

--FreeFlier

[Sgt. Howard]

http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/invest ... &ocid=iehp

interesting, is it not?

[jwhouk]

If that actually happened during this storyline, Justin would be off the hook, because the video of his incident clearly showed the perp a.) had a gun and b.) fired it at both officers.