the able baker

MariChat May Day 24: I Owe You One.

If you’re confused about what’s happening here, go back and read the chapter called Rejection.  It’ll make more sense.  (Can you believe I’ve actually been planning this chapter since I wrote that one??  I never plan.  I am so pleased with myself.)

This is for PrincessKitty1 (over on AO3), the author of a wonderful (almost finished!!) fic called Lucky Us.  It is an important plot point in this story that the Dupain-Cheng bakery closes for a month during the summer, and that the bakeries in Paris have traditionally been required to stagger their summer holidays.  The idea is to ensure both that bakers are able to take a holiday, and that Paris still has access to fresh baked bread on a daily basis.  I totally piggy-backed on that idea, and in my story, the Dupain-Chengs get to take their holiday in July.  :)  If you have some free time and want to read an awesome story, go read Lucky Us.  You won’t be disappointed!!

Marinette dozed contentedly on her new boyfriend, her limbs tangled with his on her chaise.  The remnants of a plate of cookies sat forgotten on her desk, next to a pair of empty glasses.  The movie they’d watched that afternoon had long since ended, but they’d been too comfortable to move.

She was startled awake by a knock at her door.  “Hmm, what?”



The door opened, and her mother’s head appeared in the room.   “Oh, I’m sorry.   I didn’t realize you had fallen asleep.”  Then an odd expression overtook the surprise on her face.  “There’s, um, someone here to see you, Marinette.”

“Who is it?”  She sat up, ignoring Chat’s protests and stretching sleepily.  “I told Alya I’d be busy this afternoon—”

“It’s not Alya. I think that you should come down, and see for yourself.”

Marinette frowned in confusion, and completely missed the fact that Chat had tensed beside her.  “Alright, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Sabine nodded and disappeared, pulling the door closed behind her.

“That was weird.”  Marinette stretched again, and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth as she stood.  “I’ll be right back, Chaton.”

“Yeah.  Okay.  I’ll be here.”

She gave him an odd look, but he didn’t say anything else.  With a shrug, she lifted the door to and followed her mother down stairs, wondering who in the world could have unsettled her mother.  It began to make sense when she saw Nathalie Sancoeur sitting stiffly at their dining table, talking with her parents.  She stumbled down the last few steps in surprise, her mind racing.

“Mlle Sancoeur! I—Are you, uh, looking for Adrien?  I’m not—”

“It’s fine, Marinette.  This has nothing to do with Adrien.  And please, call me Nathalie.”

“O-okay.” She came to stand by the table, and glanced at her parents for guidance, but they just shrugged.  “How can I help you M-er, Nathalie?”

“I am here to deliver an invitation.  I know you are familiar with the Gabriel summer internship program, and that you were not selected to participate this year.  What you do not know, is that you were in fact the committee’s first choice for the opportunity.”

Marinette felt her eyes go wide, and she sat heavily in the chair across from Nathalie.  “F-first choice?”

“Indeed. However, someone brought your work to the attention of M. Agreste himself the morning the announcement was to be made.  He was sufficiently impressed that he has taken an interest in your artistic development.  He does not want you to work with one of his other designers, because he wants to see how your talent develops independent of instruction.”  She pulled a heavy envelope from her bag, and slid it across the table to Marinette, who caught it reflexively.   “This is a letter from him, extending his invitation to you.  He would like an interview with you, an opportunity to view more of your work, and to discuss the possibility of bringing you on as an apprentice once you graduate from lycée.”

Sabine gasped delightedly.  “Oh, this is wonderful!  Marinette, this is an even better opportunity than you’d hoped for!  Marinette, sweetheart?”

“A-apprentice?  Me?”  Marinette blinked stupidly, trying to wrap her head around what she’d just heard.

“The poor girl is in shock, Sabine.”  He smiled warmly at his daughter.   “Give her a minute to process.”

“I am sure that it is quite a lot to take in.”  Nathalie turned her attention to Marinette’s parents.  “Perhaps we could take this opportunity to schedule a meeting time that would be mutually agreeable?  As her parents, you are both welcome to be present during this interview.”


“M. Agreste suggested a luncheon meeting, if that meets with your approval?”

“Of course.  The bakery will be closed in July…”

As planners were consulted and a date set, Marinette sat in stunned silence.  She was reeling.  Gabriel Agreste wanted to meet her?  He was considering taking her on as an apprentice?  What?  Who could possibly—Adrien.  Her lips parted on an in-drawn breath.  He must have gone to his father with pictures of her work.

That sneaky kitty!


She blinked, and found that Nathalie had come to stand next to her chair.  Everyone was looking at her expectantly.

“I-I’m sorry.  I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“I understand.”  She dropped her professional façade for a moment, and offered Marinette a genuine smile.  “Congratulations, Marinette.  This opportunity is well deserved.”

“I-uh, th-thank you!”

“Good evening.  I will see you in July.”

Tom walked Nathalie to the door, and Sabine squeezed her daughter in a happy hug.  “So, are you still disappointed that you didn’t get the internship?”

“No!  This—this is amazing!”  She glanced toward the door to her attic room.  “I need to—”

“Go on, dear.”  Sabine nudged her toward the steps.  “We can celebrate later.”

With barely a nod for her mother, Marinette raced up the steps and threw the trap door open.

“Oh my God, you crazy cat!”

“Marinette, please, let me explain.  I had no idea you’d been chosen, and I never meant for you to lose the spot, honestly, I just wanted to make sure that he’d seen how wonderfully talented you are and—oomf!”

She’d thrown herself at him hard enough to knock him off the chaise.  They landed in a heap on the floor, and she immediately began peppering his face with kisses, murmuring happy words of praise in between.

“You sweet—wonderful—thoughtful—sneaky—ooh!  This is the best thing—!”

He caught her face and brought her mouth to his for a lingering, more thorough kiss.  When it ended, he stroked his thumbs over her cheeks with a sheepish smile.  “So, ah, I guess you’re ok with how it worked out?”

“Yes!”  She said emphatically, nuzzling into his neck.  “Oh, I owe you one for this, Chaton.”

He tipped his head back, allowing her better access to the sensitive skin there.  “Hng…! Keep doing that to my neck, and we’ll call it even.”

anonymous asked:

tell me about hurricane names?

4 several hundred years, caribbean islanders named hurricanes after saints, but storm-naming was haphazard (in the 1850s an atlantic storm that wrecked a boat named Antje became “Antje’s hurricane”, another that hit florida on Labor Day was aptly named “Labor Day”). @ the end of the 19th century, clement wragge, an australian forecaster, tried to impose a system, naming storms after letters of the greek alphabet. when the Australian gov refused to recognize this, he began naming hurricanes after politicians instead. unsurprisingly, a system tht appeared to describe a politician as “causing great distress” or “wandering aimlessly about the Pacific” encountered resistance. another approach was to describe hurricanes by the latitude and longitude co-ordinates that had enabled meteorologists to track them, but this was unhelpful to those who lived on the coast and relied on succinct life-saving counsel over the radio

today’s official practice of naming hurricanes began in 1950, when storms were called after the phonetic alphabet then used by American servicemen (Able, Baker, Charlie). these names were short and rolled easily off tongues n keyboards. exchanging notes among thousands of scattered radio stations, ships at sea and coastal bases became easier. the new technique proved particularly useful when two storms of varying ferocity occurred at the same time. buuuut only two years later, in 1952, the new international phonetic alphabet was adopted (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, etc) causing some confusion. so, following naval meteorologists who named storms after their wives, the American National Hurricane Center started using feminine names. this was popular…….. and controversial. the media delighted in describing “tempestuous” female hurricanes, “teasing” and “flirting” with coastlines. activists campaigned against this, and ever since 1978, storm names have alternated between masculine and feminine !!

(such names matter more than one might expect…… in 2014 a study by researchers at Arizona State University and the University of Illinois found that hurricanes with feminine names killed more people than those with masculine ones…….this has little to do with their ferocity, which was randomly distributed, but rather with people’s reactions to them. tropical storms w traditionally feminine names were taken less seriously than those w masculine names)

im pretty sure this is common knowledge but theres a strict procedure now in place from the World Meteorological Organization….. masc and feminine names are used on a six-year rotation; the only time that there is a change is if a storm has wrought enough devastation that the future use of its name on a different storm would be inappropriate (there will never b another hurricane sandy or katrina & thank god). in the event that more than 21 named tropical storms occur in a season, any additional storms will take names from the greek alphabet :-) 

The stages of me writing my Lucas fanfic: Aided by Lucas Baker

Stage 1: starting out.

Stage 2: Finished writing the first chapter and everything seems delightful.

Stage 3: Posted it.

Stage 4: Begin working on the second chapter and eventually realize that I completely effed up by somehow managing to copy the middle of chapter one and paste at the end and posted it like that.

Stage 5: Dying a little inside after realizing that people have read my screw up and probably think I’m an idiot.

So how was your day?

“Invisible Magic Friend”: How The Six Thatchers confirms what we we’ve been told since The Blind Banker

The answer to every question we’ve ever had solving Sherlock has been staring us in the face since The Blind Banker debuted in 2010. We heard them tell us but we ignored them. We saw but we did not observe. Until now.

One of Sherlock’s quirks is he talks to John even when John’s not there. This is first stated here in episode two:

We laughed at this, and continued to laugh when Sherlock did it again:

This is not played for laughs – this is happening because soon we’re going to get scenes from Sherlock’s point-of-view where the audience sees John and thinks John’s really there when he’s not. The writers have been setting this up for ages. They told us this happens. Now that we’ve taken a look at the mess that is The Six Thatchers, we know this is exactly what they’re doing. They even left us a bunch of clues in episode eleven to confirm it.

Take a look at the newspaper reading “be in two places at once?”:

This is the case of The Duplicate Man.

How about this moment, when John asks Sherlock to be the Godfather of his baby? Sherlock says God is an “invisible magic friend” that only stupid people look to for help. 

Well, we know Sherlock absolutely does this in his life and has been doing this for seven years. He conjures images of John not only because he misses him, but because John helps him be a better detective. John channels his thoughts and makes him kinder. Sherlock becomes a great man because of John. 

So you didn’t understand The Six Thatchers? I didn’t either until I realized this: We’ve been taking John Watson for granted. We see him on screen and assume he’s there. This is not true. We have slowly drifted further into Sherlock’s point-of-view ever since the The Blind Banker and we forgot that Sherlock conjures up false images of John. Frequently. 

The Six Thatchers provides yet another clue of this:

This is a reference to “The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane” – one of the very few Sherlock Holmes stories told from Sherlock’s point of view and which does not feature John Watson at all. This is directly telling us to question John’s involvement with the story. Also, note the “assassin lurking close by” is linked to John walking up the stairs, giving strength to the idea of John being out of this story except for when his sharp-shooter skills come in handy making for a big reveal coming up soon. (I’ll leave you to your deductions) 

“But we saw so much of John in The Six Thatchers! What do you mean he wasn’t in it??”John most definitely was in this episode, just not the way you think. John is the Duplicate Man. He’s in two places at once. That’s why we see some of his scenes play out twice. One version is real, one is him as an “invisible magic friend”. I explain it in great length here. 

Sherlock explicitly says in Morocco he doesn’t have much experience with happy families. At the very end when Norbury says she’s always wanted a nice family, Mary looks over to Sherlock and then down to the ground, guiltily. Sherlock is the one who’s always wanted the family, the love, the happily ever after. Now that we can see John has been a figment of Sherlock’s desperate imagination this whole episode, we realize Sherlock has been inserting himself into Watson family moments he was never in because he wasn’t able to leave Baker Street. He’s the target. Targets wait.. That’s why he’s on his phone during all of them – he wasn’t ignoring his surroundings, he was trying to attend those moments through his phone. He was at Baker Street solving crimes – “the best antidote to sorrow” – while calling, texting, face-timing, trying everything he could to be included in the family. 

So it begs the question: Was John Watson present for Mary’s death? Or were John’s reactions, complete lack of medical knowledge, and unearthly sounds all part of how Sherlock thought John would’ve acted had he been there? Is John Watson still a figment of Sherlock’s imagination when he said “You made a vow!”, meaning Sherlock saw Mary die and immediately thought “oh my god John is never going to forgive me for this”? Playing off of speculation from many others, if John wasn’t at Mary’s death scene in the way we saw, does that mean he was the assassin lurking in the shadows behind them? Just like the killer Jellyfish in the aquarium? 

There are many questions this theory brings to the table for the next two episodes, but it closes many cases still left open. It solves how Sherlock survived the Reichenbach Fall. It helps us decode the discrepancies between His Last Vow and The Abominable Bride. It validates the concept behind Extended Mind Palace Theory, but instead of everything being in Sherlock’s head, Sherlock is projecting fake images into real places. 

This theory is gigantic and hard to understand on first read through, but if this story line is something the writers have had in mind since day one – and it’s looking like it is – then the big reveal in The Final Problem will be moments of the actual timeline we’ve seen but been ignoring this whole time. This rug pull would be the greatest plot twist ever seen on television – a television show shooting extra scenes years in advance to hold on to, lie about, and then reveal at the climax just what story they’ve been meticulously planning from the beginning. A complex set of clues, red herrings, and puzzles all laid out for us. 

You think it’s not possible? That this is just too hard to do? That the writers and producers don’t care to film scenes in advance to manipulate how the viewers understand time? 

Nothing is too complicated coming from two men who also write Doctor Who. 

The Movie That Proves Why Trans Actors Should Play Trans Roles

With humor and humanity, Tangerine vividly captures a world unknown to most audiences.

“PARK CITY, UTAH — Too often, the focus at the annual Sundance Film Festival is on stars we already know telling stories we’ve already heard, usually involving white upper-middle-class ennui. But Tangerine, which made its debut at the fest this weekend, is none of those things.

It takes almost no time at all for the movie to announce itself as one of the most vital films at Sundance this year. It opens on transgender prostitutes Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) and Alexandra (Mya Taylor) splitting a doughnut at Donut Time, a real shop in Los Angeles, on Christmas Eve. Sin-Dee just got out of a 28-day stint in jail, and she is anxious to tell her best friend news about her boyfriend Chester (James Ransone), who also happens to be their pimp.

With a cast of trans actors playing trans characters — still all too rare in feature filmmaking — Tangerine brings a world unknown to most audiences to radiant life with humor and humanity. Director Sean Baker (Starlet) and his co-writer Chris Bergoch treat the fact that Sin-Dee and Alexandra are trans prostitutes as just that — a fact, not a gimmick or a “theme” that needs hand-holding explanation.

If you’ve heard anything about Tangerine, it’s probably that Baker shot the film entirely on the iPhone 5s. That may seem like a marketing gimmick, but Baker chose exactly the right technology to capture this particular story, giving it an immediacy and intimacy that I’m not sure he would have been able to achieve with a more sophisticated camera. Besides, the film looks fabulous. I’ve lived in Los Angeles for more than 12 years, and yet Baker is able to capture this particular section of the city with a gritty beauty I’ve never seen before.”

Read the full piece here

Imagine your OTP are superheroes and there’s a new villain in town… THE BAKER! As villains go, The Baker is really more a nuisance than a menace.  Nobody really gets hurt, but nobody can renew their driver’s license when the DMV is completely filled with muffins. AGAIN.

And this is the third time this month your OTP have had to eat their way out a giant pie they were trapped in. It was really good pie…but spandex can only stretch so far. They’re going to pop a seam if they have to escape another baked good based trap.  That kind of costume failure could expose their secret identities!

Will they be able to capture The Baker while they can still see their toes? Can our heroes convince the Baker to turn their skills to good and fill the local food pantry instead? And shouldn’t The Baker’s lair be pretty easy to find if he’s baking building sized pies? And how did he move that pie for that matter, was there a crane involved?

Be sure to pick up the next issue where none of those logistical issues are addressed and our heroes are confronted with an army of gingerbread men!

So at Universal Studios there was this old guy from Ireland who was visiting America for the first time so he could be in Diagon Alley on opening day and I asked him what his favorite thing about his trip to America had been so far and all he said was

“Of course Diagon Alley is brilliant, but did you know that you can buy thirteen doughnuts for three dollars at Walmart???

Imagine Drew meeting and falling love with another woman, and getting married.  Imagine them having kids.  Imagine all their kids being geniuses, maybe not all top IQ like their half brother Ralph, but all in the top few percent of the population.

Imagine Walter O’Brien trying to process Drew Baker consistently fathering super geniuses.

Imagine Toby Curtis trying to process it.

Learning To Fly-An Everlark Drabble

This is just a little drabble in my head that wouldn’t let me go.  There were some lines in here that just begged me to write them down.  So I did.  I hope that you enjoy this little version of “The night I felt that thing again.”

It had been just an ordinary night, until suddenly it wasn’t.  

Katniss had been laying in bed with Peeta for about half an hour, in that same spot with her head on his shoulder like always.  He had taken to sleeping with his shirt off this past month or so, and she took advantage of the fact by lightly running her hand over the blonde hairs on his chest.   Her baker had mentioned that he liked it when she did the motion, and his small moan now confirmed the fact.  A smile crossed Katniss’ face knowing that she had that kind of effect of him.

This had become her favorite time of the day.  Those moments of peaceful quiet in the moonlight together in their bed right before they went to sleep.  They were at their most vulnerable, most open, in those times.  They could finally feel comfortable enough to talk about the most difficult topics, and at the same time the most mundane.

“What did you do today?” his voice calls out quietly in the dark.

“I made it to the lake.  Did some hunting around there.  Took the rabbits I caught over to Greasy Sae’s.”

“Sounds like a good day.” Peeta replies

“How about you?” she asks.

“Well, as you know I baked the cheese buns that I left for you, and took the extra over to Haymitch, plus a few loaves to share with Delly and Thom.  He and I then went over to a piece of land to see if it might be a good spot to rebuild the new bakery.”  Peeta had just recently decided that he was ready to begin building his own business.

“Doesn’t sound bad at all.”

“No, not bad at all.”   Every night this was the usual beginning to their conversation.  To gauge how each other was doing by how they had followed their routines, as recommended by Dr. Aurelius.

Peeta began running his fingers up and down her arm.  The motion brought with it those new shivery feelings that Katniss had become accustomed to these past few months.  It was all building up to something, she knew.

When he had first come home, they spent the first few weeks just trying to get through the days without losing the tiny bit of sanity they had left.  Eventually, they each began filling their days with doing the activities that were like therapy for them.  Katniss hunted, and Peeta baked, and they shared their accomplishments with the new residents of District 12.

In the beginning they were living in their separate houses. But one night, her screams were so loud that Peeta instinctively ran over.  Upon finding Katniss in her bedroom curled up and screaming, there was nothing else he could do but crawl in with her and place his arms around her body.  As soon as he held Katniss close, she immediately reacted by relaxing and eventually falling asleep.  He stayed until morning.

When the same actions had repeated themselves ten times over the next two weeks, they both knew they need to stop keeping up any pretenses.  Peeta quietly moved his clothes, necessities, and favorite pieces of furniture over to Katniss’ house.

It was a glorious feeling being back in his arms again.  Feeling safe for the first time in a long time, their nightly conversations began.  They would always begin by discussing their respective days, then share anything else that was on their minds.  Sometimes they would talk for only a few minutes, sometimes for hours.  Those generally happened on the bad days.

They spent more time together during the day, too.  Katniss would take Peeta to the lake, or long walks in the woods.  Peeta, in turn, tried to teach her to bake, cook, and paint.  Although they both tried, neither seemed to become in any way proficient in the other’s specialties.  But it didn’t seem to matter.  They both grew to just enjoy each other’s company, no matter what they were doing.

It was not a shock then when one night after saying goodnight to each other that Peeta took a step by giving her a kiss on the forehead.  Katniss looked up into his crystal blue eyes, so full of warmth, and made the next move by kissing him on the lips.  Although surprised, Peeta returned the kiss with fervor.  Beginning the new chapter of their relationship.

Over the next weeks and months, kisses continued, and as they do deepened into more.  Touches began to accompany them, at first above clothing, and then underneath.  Katniss found that each little step only made her crave more.  Peeta, of course, never pushed, but let her decide how far to go.

In the last month, they saw each other naked for the first time.  She let him take in her scars, and he let her massage the stump of his leg.  They continued to protect each other, and make the other feel safe.  Always talking.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s hideous, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to do this yet.”

“I want to.  Trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Every step was punctuated with reaffirmation from the other.  Touches led to experimentation.

“Does that feel good?”

“Try this here.”

“Show me?”

“Yes, just like that.”

So tonight, they stood on the cusp of something big.  Something wonderful.  Peeta begins to run his fingers through her hair.

“That feels so nice.” Katniss sighs.

“I remember playing with your hair before the Quarter Quell.” Peeta observes.

She smiles.  “Yes, you did.  You made of crown of flowers and practiced knots.”

“And I wanted to freeze that moment forever.” he says.

“That’s right.”  Katniss  leans up on her arms to look down at him.  “Today’s been a good day too.  And right now, I wish I could freeze it, too.  Just to be here with you.”

Peeta brings his hand up to push her hair back, then he leans up for a kiss.  And while the kiss begins as soft as always, it soon is demanding more and more.

And she feels that thing again.  The one that felt like hunger when they were on the beach.  But now she actually has a name for it…desire.  Not only did she need Peeta like she told him that night, but she wanted him.  She knew without a doubt that no matter whether they had been through the games or not, that this would have happened.  Somehow they would have found each other.  She and Gale would have consumed each other with their fire.  Peeta was the light and hope she needed to survive the days and nights.  The master baker able to mold the fire to create something good.

So, she continues on.  They kiss and kiss and touch in all kinds of places until Katniss finds that all their clothes are on the floor and Peeta is right there on top of her.  They had done so many things to lead up to this one moment, and right now there was only one final  step left to take.

He lifts up on his arms slightly off of her and looks down lovingly.  “Are you sure?”

Katniss still isn’t good with words, so she can only nod her assent.  He comes back down, and from there she feels a discomfort, a little pain, followed by a moment of stillness along with soft kisses.  Eventually, there is movement, and the discomfort somehow amazingly becomes pleasure.  It builds and builds until she feels like she could almost be up in the clouds.

She was the Mockingjay, but only as Katniss lets go does she truly know what it is like to fly.

When their breathing calms, and she is again lying in Peeta’s arms, he asks the important question.  And Katniss finds that, with confidence, she can finally get out the one word to tell him how she feels.


Spoken Alphabet: Current vs. WWII
  • Alpha - Able
  • Bravo - Baker
  • Charlie - Charlie
  • Delta - Dog
  • Echo - Easy
  • Foxtrot - Fox
  • Golf - George
  • Hotel - How
  • India - Item
  • Juliet - Jig
  • Kilo - King
  • Lima - Love
  • Mike - Mike
  • November - Nan
  • Oscar - Oboe
  • Papa - Peter
  • Quebec - Queen
  • Romeo - Roger
  • Sierra - Sugar
  • Tango - Tear
  • Uniform - Uncle
  • Victor - Victor
  • Whiskey - Whiskey
  • X-Ray - X-Ray
  • Yankee - Yoke
  • Zulu - Zebra

Trivia Encyclopedia by Fred L. Worth, 1974.

“Touch Of Grey”

Must be getting early, clocks are running late.
Paint by number morning sky, looks so phony.
Dawn is breaking everywhere, light a candle, curse the glare
Draw the curtains I don’t care ‘cause it’s alright
I will get by, I will get by, I will get by, I will survive.

I see you’ve got your fists out, say your piece and get out.
Guess I get the gist of it but it’s alright
Sorry that you feel that way.
The only thing there is to say
Every silver lining’s got a touch of grey
I will get by, I will get by, I will get by, I will survive.

It’s a lesson to me
The Ables and the Bakers and the C’s
The ABC’s we all must face
To try to keep a little grace

It’s a lesson to me
The Deltas and the East and the Freeze
The ABC’s we all think of
To try to give a little love

I know the rent is in arrears, the dog has not been fed in years
It’s even worse than it appears but it’s alright

Cow is given kerosene, kid can’t read at seventeen
The words he knows are all obscene but it’s alright
I will get by, I will get by, I will get by, I will survive.

It’s a lesson to me
The Deltas and the East and the Freeze
The ABC’s we all think of
To try to keep a little love

The shoe is on the hand it fits, there’s all there really nothing much to it
Whistle through your teeth and spit 'cause it’s alright

Oh, well, a touch of gray, kinda suits you anyway,
That’s was all I had to say but it’s alright
I will get by, I will get by, I will get by, I will survive.

It’s a lesson to me,
The deltas and the East and the free
The ABC’s we all must face,
Try to save a little grace.

We will get by. We will get by. We will get by. We will survive
We will get by. We will get by. We will get by. We will survive

Kind of a strangely positive day.  Shared for lilrowboat, for me, and anyone else who may be smiling through a slight case of a Touch of Grey.  :)