Rinse Repeat Quotes

Move, hunt, kill. Like lather, rinse, and repeat.

Is this what you do with your spare time?” he asked me, ignoring his sister. “What—are you deciding to talk to me now?” Smiling tightly, I grabbed a handful of mulch and dumped it. Rinse and repeat. “Yeah, it’s kind of a hobby. What’s yours? Kicking puppies?

But the fucked-up part is once you start self-harming, you can never not be a creepy freak, because your whole body is now a scarred and charred battlefield and nobody likes that on a girl, nobody will love that, and so all of us, every one, is screwed, inside and out. Wash, rinse, fucking repeat.

To be a successful fiction writer you have to write well, write a lot … and let ‘em know you’ve written it! Then rinse and repeat.

In June, Deacon noticed a pattern where Thursday was concerned. Woman, fight, brood alone in angry silence, rinse, and repeat

It might have sounded silly, but Affenlight loved the way Owen always picked these same two mugs and even, presumably, went so far as to rinse them in the sink when they were dirty. Such consistency suggested, or seemed to suggest, that Owen found their afternoons worth repeating, even down to the smallest detail. This was the dreamy, paradisiacal side of domestic ritual: when all the days were possessed of the same minutiae precisely because you wanted them to be.

A well-designed life is a life that is generative—it is constantly creative, productive, changing, evolving, and there is always the possibility of surprise. You get out of it more than you put in. There is a lot more than “lather, rinse, repeat” in a well-designed life.

Read and write what you like. Rinse, repeat.

Cycling through love is like wash, rinse, repeat.

In your life, you will inevitably: misspeak, trust the wrong person, underreact, overreact, hurt the people who didn't deserve it, overthink, not think at all, self sabotage, create a reality where only your experience exists, ruin perfectly good moments for yourself and others, deny any wrongdoing, not take the steps to make it right, feel very guilty, let the guilt eat at you, hit rock bottom, finally address the pain you caused, try to do better next time, rinse, repeat. These mistakes will cause you to lose things. But, losing things doesn't just mean losing. A lot of the time, when we lose things, we gain things too. Life can be heavy, especially if you try to carry it all at once. Part of growing up and moving into new chapters of your life is about catch and release; you can't carry all things, decide what is yours to hold and let the rest go. Oftentimes, the good things in your life are lighter anyway, so there's more room for them. NEVER BE ASHAMED OF TRYING.

If we want people to accept our original ideas, we need to speak up about them, then rinse and repeat. To

You could drink, slice, do meth, snort coke, burn, cut, stab, slash, rip out your eyelashes, or fuck till you bleed and it’s all the same thing: self-harm. She says: whether someone has hurt you or made you feel bad or unworthy or unclean, rather than taking the rational step of realizing that person is an asshole or a psycho and should be shot or strung up and you should stay the fuck away from them, instead we internalize our abuse and begin to blame and punish ourselves and weirdly, once you start cutting or burning or fucking because you feel so shitty and unworthy, your body starts to release this neat-feeling shit called endorphins and you feel so fucking high the world is like cotton candy at the best and most colorful state fair in the world, only bloody and stuffed with infection. But the fucked-up part is once you start self-harming, you can never not be a creepy freak, because your whole body is now a scarred and charred battlefield and nobody likes that on a girl, nobody will love that, and so all of us, every one, is screwed, inside and out. Wash, rinse, fucking repeat.

And to not burn out on Adult Every-Day-Ness you need to take some Nothing Vacations. What’s a Nothing Vacation? It’s a vacation where you do, well, nothing. Absolutely. No sightseeing. No family. No friends. Nothing. My wife and I just agreed we’re taking one. Next month. No baby. No itinerary. Just sleep. Food. Books. Sleep. Food. Rinse. Repeat.

It's genius, really: saturate the media with ideal bodies, convince women that they can only be happy if they look like those bodies, sell women products promising to give them those bodies, and when those products don't work, tell the women that it's their fault for not having enough willpower, and sell them more. If women begin to achieve the current ideal body, change the ideal so that they'll need to keep buying products (that don't work) to attain the impossible. Rinse and repeat. They go home rolling in their billions and we're left with shattered self-esteem, empty bank accounts, wasted years, and useless products, and we still blame ourselves instead of seeing it for the manipulation that it is. And all along the whole thing rests on that one big lie, that your body needs to look a certain way in order for you to be happy. We bought it. We still buy it.

House payments, kids, career, and the rinse and repeat of life moved in where love and promises had moved out.

I don’t know.” I flop back on the bed with a groan. “What do I do?” “Him,” Fin calls. “Do him. Then let him do you. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

We knew lots of couples who split up and got back together, rinse and repeat, but that had never been us. We did not know how the other would act, would be, in this scenario. I was standing at the curb with a perfect stranger.

A well-designed life is a life that is generative—it is constantly creative, productive, changing, evolving, and there is always the possibility of surprise. You get out of it more than you put in. There is a lot more than “lather, rinse, repeat” in a well-designed life. How

I was shivering with cold. The woman filled the pitcher again and repeated the process, but it looked less like a shower than a snake shedding its skin. The water slipped off her body like a transparent skin. “Unless I do this, I can’t forget the bad things. Instead of screaming out loud, I freeze the screams and rinse them from my skin.

How, then, to proceed? My method is: I imagine a meter mounted in my forehead, with ‘P’ on this side (‘Positive’) and ‘N’ on this side (‘Negative’). I try to read what I’ve written uninflectedly, the way a first-time reader might (‘without hope and without despair’). Where’s the needle? Accept the result without whining. Then edit, so as to move the needle into the ‘P’ zone. Enact a repetitive, obsessive, iterative application of preference: watch the needle, adjust the prose, watch the needle, adjust the prose (rinse, lather, repeat), through (sometimes) hundreds of drafts. Like a cruiseship slowly turning, the story will start to alter course via those thousands of incremental adjustments.

Globe-trotting is just the chance to feel bored more places, faster. A boring breakfast in Bali. A predictable lunch in Paris. A tedious dinner in New York, and falling asleep, drunk, during just another blow job in L.A. Too many peak experiences, too close together. “Like the Getty Museum,” Inky says. “Lather, rinse, and repeat,” says the Global Airlines wino. In the boring new world of everyone in the upper-middle class, Inky says, nothing helps you enjoy your bidet like peeing in the street for a few hours. Give up bathing until you stink, and just a hot shower feels as good as a trip to Sonoma for a detoxifying mud enema. “Think of it,” Inky says, “as a kind of poverty sorbet, a nice little window of misery that helps you enjoy your real life.

How, then, to proceed? My method is: I imagine a meter mounted in my forehead, with “P” on this side (“Positive”) and “N” on this side (“Negative”). I try to read what I’ve written uninflectedly, the way a first-time reader might (“without hope and without despair”). Where’s the needle? Accept the result without whining. Then edit, so as to move the needle into the “P” zone. Enact a repetitive, obsessive, iterative application of preference: watch the needle, adjust the prose, watch the needle, adjust the prose (rinse, lather, repeat), through (sometimes) hundreds of drafts. Like a cruise ship slowly turning, the story will start to alter course via those thousands of incremental adjustments. The artist, in this model, is like the optometrist, always asking: Is it better like this? Or like this? The interesting thing, in my experience, is that the result of this laborious and slightly obsessive process is a story that is better than I am in “real life” – funnier, kinder, less full of crap, more empathetic, with a clearer sense of virtue, both wiser and more entertaining. And what a pleasure that is; to be, on the page, less of a dope than usual.

In Group, Casper doesn't like us to say cut or cutting or burn or stab. She says it doesn't matter what you do or how you do it: it's all the same. You could drink, slice, do meth, snort coke, burn, cut, stab, slash, rip out your eyelashes, or fuck till you bleed and it's all the same thing: self-harm. She says: whether someone has hurt you or made you feel bad or unworthy or unclean, rather than taking the rational step of realizing that person is an asshole or a psycho and should be shot or strung up and you should stay the fuck away from them, instead we internalize our abuse and begin to blame and punish ourselves and weirdly, once you start cutting or burning or fucking because you feel so shitty and unworthy, your body starts to release this neat-feeling shit called endorphins and you feel so fucking high the world is like cotton candy at the best and most colorful state fair in the world, only bloody and stuffed with infection. But the fucked-up part is once you start self-harming, you can never not be a creepy freak, because your whole body is now a scarred and charred battlefield and nobody likes that on a girl, nobody will love that, and so all of us, every one, is screwed, inside and out. Wash, rinse, fucking repeat.

Cheddar Cheese Grits Ingredients: 2 cups whole milk 2 cups water 1 1/2 teaspoons salt 1 cup coarse ground cornmeal 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 4 ounces sharp Cheddar, shredded Directions: Place the milk, water, and salt into a large, heavy-gauge pan over medium-high heat and bring to a boil. Once the milk mixture comes to a boil, gradually add the cornmeal while continually stirring. Once all of the cornmeal has been incorporated, decrease the heat to low and cover. Remove lid and stir frequently, every few minutes, to prevent grits from sticking or forming lumps; make sure to get into corners of the pan when stirring. Cook for 20 to 25 minutes or until mixture is creamy. Remove from the heat, add the pepper and butter, and whisk to combine. Once the butter is melted, gradually whisk in the cheese a little at a time. Serve immediately. Sweet Potato Casserole Ingredients: For the sweet potatoes 3 cups (1 29-ounce can) sweet potatoes, drained ½ cup melted butter ⅓ cup milk ¾ cup sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 beaten eggs salt to taste For the topping: 5 tablespoons melted butter ⅔ cup brown sugar ⅔ cup flour 1 cup pecan pieces Instructions: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Mash the sweet potatoes and add the melted butter, milk, sugar, vanilla, beaten eggs, and a pinch of salt. Stir until incorporated. Pour into a shallow baking dish or a cast iron skillet. Combine the butter, brown sugar, flour, and pecan pieces in a small bowl, using your fingers to create moist crumbs. Sprinkle generously over the casserole. Bake for 25-35 minutes, until the edges pull away from the sides of the pan and the top is golden brown. Let stand for the mixture to cool and solidify a little bit before serving. Southern Fried Chicken Ingredients: 4 pounds chicken pieces 1 1/2 cups milk 2 large eggs 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 2 tablespoons salt 2 teaspoons pepper 3 cups vegetable oil salt to taste Preparation: Rinse chicken; pat dry and then set aside. Combine milk and eggs in a bowl; whisk to blend well. In a large heavy-duty plastic food storage bag, combine the flour, salt, and pepper. Dip a chicken piece in the milk mixture; let excess drip off into bowl. Put a few chicken pieces in the food storage bag and shake lightly to coat thoroughly. Remove to a plate and repeat with remaining chicken pieces. Heat oil to 350°. Fry chicken, a few pieces at a time, for about 10 minutes on each side, or until golden brown and cooked through. Chicken breasts will take a little less time than other pieces. Pierce with a fork to see if juices run clear to check for doneness. With a slotted spoon, move to paper towels to drain; sprinkle with salt.

Parents often have the misconception that setting boundaries occurs when a child misbehaves, but the fact is that the word ‘misbehave’ is misused. Children don’t ‘mis’behave. They behave, either positively or negatively, to communicate. Small children communicate through their behavior because that is the only method of communication they have. Even when they become verbal, though, they still aren’t able to articulate big feelings and subtle problems well verbally, so as parents it’s our role to ‘listen between the lines’ of our children’s behavior to discern the need being communicated. Setting boundaries is not about ‘mis’behavior. It’s about guiding behavior, and guidance is something we provide through everyday interactions with our children. Repetition is the hallmark of the early years of parenting, from the endless tasks of diapering and feeding to the endless explorations of a curious toddler. There is no way, and no point in trying, to make a child stop acting like a child. There are, though, gentle ways to guide a child through the normal developmental stages safely and peacefully. The repetitious nature of boundary-setting in the early years is a bit like washing your hair, “Lather, rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat…” Knowing that and accepting it makes the seemingly endless repetitions, reminders, and redirections a bit easier to handle.

We shall smell it. Just as a sharp axe can split a log into tiny splinters, our nose will fragment every detail of this perfume, Amor and Psyche. And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical sent was created by the most ordinary, familiar methods. We, Baldini, perfumer, shall catch Pélissier, the vinegar man, at his tricks. We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. We'll scrupulously imitate his mixture, his fashionable perfume. It will be born anew in our hands, so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won't be able to tell it from his own. No! That's not enough! We shall improve it! We'll show up his mistakes and rinse them away and then rub his nose in it. You're a bungler, Pélissier! An old stinker is what you are! An upstart in the craft of perfumery, and nothing more. And now to work, Baldini! Sharpen your nose and smell without sentimentality! Dissect the scent by the rules of the art! You must have the formula by this evening! And he made a dive for his desk, grabbing paper, ink and a fresh handkerchief, laid it all out properly, and began his analysis. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume, pass it rapidly under his nose, and extract from the fleeting cloud of scent one or another of its ingredients without being significantly distracted by the complex blending of its other parts; then, holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm, to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered, and repeat the process at once, letting the handkerchief flit by his nose, snatching at the next fragment of sent, and so on...

Cutting Board Maintenance Moisturize! Once a month I spend some quality time, just me and my cutting board family. Wood is porous and kind of alive—it expands and contracts, absorbs moisture and dries out. Without any TLC even the best wooden cutting board can crack, warp, or even rot from the inside. Luckily, all you need to prevent all of that is monthly moisturization. 1. Start with a clean and dry board: Using a soft dish sponge, scrub clean with dish soap. Remove any tough stains with a mixture of baking soda and water. Never use any harsh abrasives like bleach or steel wool. Rinse and then dry the board with a towel and leave it standing on its edge to fully dry. (If you can, it’s best to store your board standing on its edge when not in use so moisture doesn’t fester underneath.) When washing your board, be sure to wet both sides. This ensures that both sides are equally moist and dry at the same rate to prevent warping. 2. Apply a generous layer of food-grade mineral oil: Lay the board flat so excess oil doesn’t run off, and use your hands to spread a thick layer of mineral oil all over one side, rubbing into the edges and any grooves. Why mineral oil? Unlike most other oils, such as canola, olive, or coconut, mineral oil is totally flavorless and won’t grow rancid 3. Give it time to soak in: Let it sit for a few hours and preferably overnight to drink in as much oil as possible. 4. Buff and repeat: Use a towel to rub away any excess oil the board didn’t soak up. Next, buff the board, rubbing in any last remnants of oil. It should not feel slick or greasy when you’re done. Flip and repeat on the other side. • Level up: To give your board an almost velvety feel, after oiling both sides, rub them down with board cream. Board cream is a mixture of food-grade mineral oil and beeswax that you can purchase or make yourself. Using a towel, rub a thin, even layer all over the board. No need to wipe it off after.

Deacon noticed a pattern where Thursday was concerned. Woman, fight, brood alone in angry silence, rinse and repeat.

the failure of the established order of industrial society, and of the political classes who manage it, is becoming hard to ignore. Consider the way that the world’s leaders have reacted to the ongoing implosion of the global economy, or nearly any other recent crisis you care to name: in each case, it’s a broken-record sequence of understating the problem, trying to manage appearances, getting caught flatfooted by events, and struggling to load the blame for yet another round of failures onto anybody within reach. Rinse and repeat a few times, and even the most diehard supporters of the status quo start wishing that somebody, somewhere, would stand up and demonstrate some actual leadership.

To remember people’s names, wash, rinse, repeat—Repeat a person’s name upon introduction, throughout the conversation, and as you bid farewell. Try it both in your mind as well as out loud. Avoid nicknames unless otherwise invited.

I know everything I said works because I designed it personally for me only and washed, rinsed, repeated, and recycled the process over 1000 times in my life with each cake I Baked

Its modus operandi is rooted in a lie that refuses to die: blacks are permanent victims of racism, and no amount of effort will overcome it. The lie is rinsed and repeated in different ways, but the message remains unchanged

Humans had an intrinsic psychological tendency to form groups, and those groups had a tendency to compete. It was a side effect of consensus reality. Each group had a slightly different consensus, and so a slightly different reality, and the terms of reality are the one thing humans will always fight and die over, escalating these differences into crime, violence, inequality, war and hate—the very things the System was intended to eradicate. Human nature could not be entirely cured of these compulsions, but they could be channeled. The designers of the System permitted it to stage conflicts using astroturf, so long as the conflict did not undermine its non-negotiable long-term outcomes. What they had in mind were the cyclical controversies that play out on Social as we know it today. The System identifies some especially meaningless dispute—over favorite foods, popular storystreams, fashionable clothes, or the celebrity imposters who constitute our faux political system. It then amplifies the dispute until it becomes very heated, leading people to separate into opposing camps. After a short time, the System swoops in with a coup de grâce—some tidy resolution that brings everyone back together in harmony. A few weeks later, it finds a new controversy to amplify. Rinse, repeat, forever. It’s quite brilliant, really, effectively neutering the human tendency toward intergroup conflict.

I remember Marco saying, “I can’t be alone. You know I hate being alone,” as if that was a justification for him continuing his affair. The article concludes by saying that a sociopath will repeat the same relationship cycle over and over again; lather, rinse, repeat. I Google “sociopath relationship cycle.” I click a link that leads to a page with a shadowy figure wearing a mask with the words “Idealize, Devalue, Discard” on it. I have not even read what this means and chills creep all over my body. Idealize, devalue, discard.

Life was about fighting through the day and getting it done. Rinse and repeat.

Plan: Recognize an opportunity and plan a change. Do: Put the plan into play and test the change. Check: Analyze the results of your test and identify what you’ve learned. Act: Act on what you’ve learned. If the change didn’t work, go through the cycle again with a different plan. If you were successful, incorporate what you learned to plan new improvements. Rinse and repeat.

Over the course of his political career, Donald Trump perfected a three-step tango with the radical right—a dance in which he’d pull them close in an embrace, spin away while staying connected, and then pull them back to close quarters. Acknowledge, deny, validate. Lather, rinse, repeat….It was a dance that enabled Trump to court and embrace the radical right with a wink and a nod while maintaining a plausible deniability that he supported them. All of them, Trump and extremists alike, were united in their shared reality: the alternative universe of right-wing conspiracism, founded on the essential belief that the world is being secretly controlled by a cabal of elite “globalists” whose agenda is to place the world, America particularly, under their totalitarian control.

Once upon a time, the people in charge told some peons they had to die, so they did. Rinse and repeat.

The devil’s formula has never changed. HOW TO BE DECEIVED IN 5 EASY STEPS Question what God actually said. Twist what God said. Paint God like the mean bully in the sky who uses fear tactics to keep you from having any fun. Persuade you to trust yourself more than you trust God and his Word. Catapult your life into darkness and chaos. Convince you that darkness and chaos are actually good things. Rinse, recycle, repeat. It’s literally the oldest lie in the book.

It was an easy offer to sell. I’d fly out. Turn on my lead machine. Work the leads. Then sell the leads. Except, instead of selling them into my gym, I’d sell them into whatever gym I was camped at for the month. Every month I’d go to a new gym. Rinse and repeat. It worked.

When Harvard professor John Kotter studied change agents years ago, he found that they typically undercommunicated their visions by a factor of ten. On average, they spoke about the direction of the change ten times less often than their stakeholders needed to hear it. In one three-month period, employees might be exposed to 2.3 million words and numbers. On average during that period, the vision for change was expressed in only 13,400 words and numbers: a 30-minute speech, an hour-long meeting, a briefing, and a memo. Since more than 99 percent of the communication that employees encounter during those three months does not concern the vision, how can they be expected to understand it, let alone internalize it? The change agents don’t realize this, because they’re up to their ears in information about their vision. If we want people to accept our original ideas, we need to speak up about them, then rinse and repeat.

As my dad and I entered the tenth local shop that afternoon, I felt my muscles go tight with a full body cringe. He’d just asked to speak to the manager in an Israeli accent as thick as hummus. Sounding identical to Arnold Schwarzenegger. “I don’t get it.” His voice boomed enthusiastically after he was introduced to the store’s boss. “You live in greatest country in world, and you have greatest business in sector, but you still have a crappy copier. Why? I must help you. Here, I gave much better, let me show!” His pitch would be met with a rejection. And then another rejection. Countless rejections. Rinse and repeat. Every. Damn. Day. But then, invariably, inevitably, a hard-won success. This particular day was glorious, though. Absolutely glorious. He sold two copiers in one day! So Dad said let’s go celebrate and grab some burritos! “Why you look so sad, Noah?” he said as we sat down to eat. Although I should have been riding on the adrenaline of my dad’s glorious day, something felt wrong. Despite his ultimate success, the process of getting there felt demoralizing and pointless. I shook my head. “So many noes. No, no, no, no. All day. Doesn’t it make you want to quit?” I asked. My dad replied with something that would change my life: “Love rejections! Collect them like treasure! Set rejection goals. I shoot for a hundred rejections each week, because if you work that hard to get so many noes, my little Noah’le, in them you will find a few yeses, too.” Maybe that’s why he named me NO-ah, to remind me of this daily to keep going. Love rejections?! Set rejection goals?! My dad reframed rejection as something desirable—so you feel good when you get it. He was saying aim for rejection! It was suddenly clear to me why my dad was never afraid to ask anyone anything—and why he pushed for a hundred rejections a week: the upside of asking is unlimited and the downside is minimal. And he was right! “What’s the worst that can happen?” he’d say whenever I cringed at someone turning him down. “So they said no. Who cares! And the upside of making sales is unlimited.

move toward my next destination, and try not to get myself killed. Lather, rinse, repeat. It

Over time, one of this engine's most potent impacts is in prioritizing investments for customer-driven growth by shifting the annual planning process. Instead of starting with the silos, leaders start with the customers' lives, identify priorities, and then determine collectively the investments to improve them to earn the right to growth. Without alignment among your executive team to regularly review the customer journey that this engine affords, investments are not fully optimized. Tactical actions are budgeted and implemented by silo, but complete customer experiences that drive growth are not improved. Rinse and repeat.

Sawyer rinses the razor under the tap and then brings it back to his face and I am downright mesmerized. I clear my throat and shift on the marble counter. “The party is optional, Everly. No one is required to ‘hang out’ with me. They can bring whoever they want, enjoy the free food and alcohol, or they can do whatever they want for the evening.” He glances at me as he repeats the rinsing of the razor. “You okay there, Boots?” “No, I’m kinda wet.” He glances down at the countertop surrounding the sink, devoid of a single splash, and then back to me. He tilts his head in question and makes another swipe with the razor. “This shaving thing.” I wave a hand at his face before fanning myself. “It’s fucking hot.” He pauses, a towel in his hand, and shakes his head. “I really am never sure what’s coming out of your mouth next

8 ounces (250g) salmon fillet, bones removed 8 ounces (250g) firm white fish fillet, such as lingcod, snapper, tilapia, bones removed 8 ounces (250g) halibut or other delicate white fish, bones removed ¼ cup (about 3g) fresh tarragon leaves, minced Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 shallots, sliced paper-thin 2 medium radishes, cut into paper-thin rounds 1 generous tablespoon unsalted butter, cut in 4 equal pieces Fleur de sel, for garnish Rinse the fish and cut each piece on the bias into four even pieces so that they are flat rather than chunky. This will allow them to cook more evenly. Refrigerate. Preheat the oven to 450°F (225°C) and position a rack in the center. Cut four pieces of parchment paper that measure about 12 by 6 inches (30.5 by 15.24cm). Cut four pieces of aluminum foil that measure about 18 by 11½ inches (45.7 by 29cm). Place the parchment in the center of the foil. Arrange one piece of each fish in the center of the parchment paper, arranging them so they are touching but not overlapping, in a sort of flower pattern. Season generously with salt and pepper. Top each with equal amounts of shallots and radishes, then sprinkle with tarragon. Season again with salt and pepper, and set a piece of butter on top. Bring the foil and the parchment together above the fish and gently twist so it makes a closed packet. Repeat with the remaining ingredients. Place the packets on a baking sheet, and bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the fish is opaque through. (You may need to check by removing one of the packets from the oven and deftly opening it to see if the fish is cooked. If just about, but not quite, cooked, give the aluminum a twist and let the packets sit while you call everyone to the table for dinner. If not cooked at all—doubtful—return to the oven for 3 to 5 minutes.) Remove the packets from the oven, immediately remove them from the baking sheet, and open them. Assemble your plates, giving the fish a few minutes to sit, then carefully remove the fish and vegetables from the packets with a slotted spatula, and place them in the center of a warmed dinner plate. Drizzle with a bit of cooking juices, season with fleur de sel, and serve. Don’t serve the packets at the table—it ends up being complicated for the diner, because they have to figure out what to do with a pile of paper and aluminum foil on their plates. SERVES 4

Deny giving the bad energy to manifest and embrace the good. Rinse and Repeat.

You’ll have to have a sponge bath before we go on, Mr. Fairfax. There’s a question of infection here.” To her surprise, the recalcitrant visitor was looking at her in a different way—his hazel eyes were twinkling with weary mischief, and his voice was lower. Smoother. “How much does that cost? A sponge bath, I mean?” Emma frowned, puzzled. “Cost?” Fairfax smiled at her, showing that fine set of teeth Emma remembered from their earlier encounter. He looked rather like a gentleman when he did that, instead of a trail bum down on his luck. “You know.” Emma had no time to debate. “I’m sorry,” she said, on her way out the door. “I’m afraid I don’t.” She left the room again and came back soon after with a basin of hot water, soap, a washcloth and a towel. “You really are a great deal of trouble, Mr. Fairfax.” “Steven,” he corrected. Emma looked at him in confusion. “Steven.” “May I call you Emma?” “No,” Emma replied, uncomfortable with his familiarity. “You certainly may not. It wouldn’t be proper.” He grinned as though she’d said something funny. “Proper?” he repeated, and he chuckled. Emma lathered up the washcloth and set about cleaning him up as best she could. Of course, she wasn’t about to deal with any part of his anatomy besides his arms and chest. “There’s money over there, in the pocket of my coat,” he said, when Emma was rinsing away the soap. “Good,” Emma said disinterestedly. “You’ll want to buy yourself another set of clothes. I’d be glad to do that for you on my way home from the library tomorrow.” He watched her, his eyes dancing in his wan face. “How long have you been working here?” She wrung out the washcloth. “Working here? I don’t work here—I’m the town librarian. This is my home.” At that Steven gave a hoarse cough of laughter. “You’re a librarian? That’s a new one.” Emma was cutting a sheet into strips. “A new what?” “Listen, when you’re through with these bandages, I could use a little comforting.” She

If you’re doing the analysis correctly, you are constantly drilling down one branch, discovering it’s not valid, revising your hypothesis (and often the branches of your issue tree), and then drilling down an entirely new branch. You do this over and over, all day long, in both consulting and case interviews. Drill down, pull up, revise the hypothesis, restructure the issue tree, drill down again ... lather, rinse, repeat.

In fairness, Cedarfield was a great place to raise your kids, even though you were raising them to be you. Some thought of it as the cycle of life, but for Adam, it felt more like a shampoo-rinse-repeat existence, with so many of their neighbors and friends—good, solid people whom Adam liked a lot—growing up in Cedarfield, leaving for four-year stints to college, returning, marrying, raising their own children in Cedarfield, who would grow up here and leave for four-year stints to college, in the hopes of returning, marrying, and raising their own children here. Nothing

True story: I’m too lazy to even wash my socks. I buy seven or eight pairs and wear them all once, and then I shake them out, sort them by how bad they smell, and wear them again. Then I finally stuff them into the laundry bag and send them off to be washed. Rinse and repeat, ad nauseam. Every so often a sock goes missing, so its partner ends up among the mismatched. I didn’t start wearing them in pairs until after Shen Wei moved in.

When executives simply rinse and repeat habits, strategies or routines that worked before rather than reengineer better solutions or processes, existing methods become institutionalised.

HANDY HABIT: Stopping Stains from Sticking. Keep a bottle of stain solution in your dining room to handle spills on rugs as they happen. Begin by blotting the stain well with several pieces of paper towel, then apply the stain product to the rug. Pat it in, and let it sit for 5 to 10 minutes. Rinse well with cool water to remove suds, and repeat as necessary until the stain disappears. Pat dry with a clean cloth.

HOUSEHOLD STAIN REMOVER (to be mixed up fresh every time, then discarded afterward) 2 parts hydrogen peroxide 1 part dish soap Mix together in a small bowl and apply with a toothbrush or cloth. Let it sit for a few minutes, then rinse with water and blot up excess. Repeat if necessary.

He’ll apologize. He’ll shower her with affection. He’ll make her laugh and feel loved. She’ll blame herself. And she’ll consider her lack of other options. Rinse and repeat.

i’ll always hear the words you never left unsaid the ones where you said you’d be better off dead i get weak and start to think that maybe just maybe you were right then i weep myself to sleep and forget by morning rise rinse and repeat it’s a never-ending battle this grudge is eating me alive

Most books tell you things once and then wrongly assume that because you’ve read it, you know it. This is one of the reasons that so many self-help books fail to bring about any lasting change. There’s a famous quote by Will Durant that says, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then is not an act but a habit.” What this means for you is that simply reading this material won’t get you the results you want. What will get you the results you want is reading it, then considering the points raised, then (and most importantly) applying the techniques and strategies. Rinse and repeat.

This experience isn’t so different for software businesses. Two excitable cofounders work on an app, submit it to Product Hunt, and see thousands of sign-ups on the first day. A few months later, no one is using it, and they’re on to a new project. Rinse and repeat. But businesses are not something you engage with once, talk to your friends about, and then forget as you move on to the next thing. Your business should have customers for life, not just for a Friday night. That’s because the real story of starting and then growing a business isn’t really that thrilling most days. Between start and success, it can be a slog. It can take years. And it often isn’t nearly as glamorous as you expect. But you will have many small victories, and over time they will build into a sense of satisfaction and pride that comes from not giving up.

It was actually more like this: Nina would get up and her head would hurt because she drank wine that was at least 30 percent sulfites or whatever it is that causes headaches. Her mouth would feel like the inside of one of those single socks you see on the street sometimes, and her hair would be depressed. She would stand slightly crouched by the coffee maker and shiver until the coffee was done. Sometimes her glassy eyes would rest on her visualization corner and she would resent the steady way the planet whirled around the sun without consulting her at all. Day after day, night after night, rinse and repeat. Basically, until the first slug of caffeine hit her system, she was essentially in suspended animation, and she’d been known to drool.

I don't want to do this" "What?" "This! My life! Go back to 1986, find you, convince you I'm not crazy. Amass a fortune. Build the chair. Try to prevent dead memories. Fail. Watch the world remember. Rinse, repeat. Are the rest of my many lives nothing more than trying to figure out a way out of this inescapable loop?

You must wring out the last drop of capability every single day until you and your organization are great. Then wash, rinse, and repeat.

Go after happiness like it is the only thing you can take with you when you die. Stand up for yourself. Treat yourself the way you treat the person you love most in the world. Get on your own team. Wake up. Take a nap. Laugh. Cry. Rinse. Repeat.

You followed me,” Scarlet says quietly, “again.” “It’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?” I pull out my tin, grabbing the last joint from it. “You run from me; I track you down. Wash, rinse, repeat...

One piece of AI, called the generator, is instructed to create a deepfake showing, for example, Hillary Clinton endorsing Ron DeSantis. The generator is provided with sufficient raw data, including video footage and voice recordings of Clinton. It then uses the data to create an initial video. That video is passed to a different piece of AI, called the discriminator. The discriminator’s job is to sniff out counterfeits. When it looks at the generator’s first draft of the video, it can tell it’s a fake. So, the discriminator passes it back to the generator and basically says, “Fake news!” The generator looks at what tipped the discriminator off that the video was counterfeit, makes some changes to address those issues, and then sends it back to the discriminator for another evaluation. It fails the “sniff test” again, and the clip goes back to the generator for a third iteration. Rinse and repeat a million times or more. Finally, maybe on version 1,438,847, the discriminator looks at the video and says, in effect, “Holy cow! Hillary Clinton endorsed Ron DeSantis!

I still don't know to this day how she managed to climb the 94 stairs; she was dying from an overdose. The gate at the bottom of the stairwell did not make a sound when she entered the building, being so ill and alone. It was odd. Where could she have been? Almost as if she had been dropped off at my doorstep like a package silently by a (Polish) giant. She was pale and could barely open the door with her keys. When she entered, she fell into my arms; she was drunk and high, her legs buckling so that she couldn't stand. I tried to figure out what she had taken and what she had drunk, but she could barely talk; her eyes were rolling back in her skull. She was crying with her head in the toilet bowl, unable to stop the cramps running through her insides and her entire body shaking. - What did you drink? - Two … beers. - I am not your father. What did you take? Where have you been? - Beers and tequila - she mumbled, saliva drooling out of her mouth and her head hanging down like she was dead already. Then I asked her what else she had taken. She still wouldn't answer, so I repeated. - Answer me Martina, who gave it to you?! - I shouted. - Where have you been?! But she didn't answer, and her condition was critical, so I had to rush her to the hospital in my arms as she was about to lose consciousness. I had to grab her and take her to the closest hospital across Parallel, two blocks away. This was the first time I had taken her to the hospital since she'd split her chin by falling off my bicycle allegedly before, although it wasn't the last. Interestingly, whenever she got involved with a new group of criminals, she wound up in the hospital both times, and both times I took her there. She had no energy to lift her head out of the toilet bowl. As soon as I entered the hospital with her, the staff and I had to put her in a wheelchair. They took her inside and 20 minutes later when I was sitting by her bed, she already felt better with an IV dripping slowly into her vein, but she was unable to move; she was lying in her hospital bed, barely able to open her eyes to look at me. She was between life and death, or between real life and just a dream. I remembered less than a year earlier she was so full of life and happy and healthy when I put her up on that set of chairs that night when we took off the 'for sale' sign. The doctors told me after she fell asleep that they wanted to rinse her stomach, but she didn't authorize that. I was not fully aware that she was on drugs time to time or all the time and with what kind of people she was associated with. She almost only showed up at home in September 2014 when she overdosed. I was in love and worried for her so much, so I filled out the forms while they treated her in the hospital. I prayed to God to save her, asking for Him to show her the Truth. All I had was a prayer—50/50 if it worked. And I remembered that two years before, I had prayed for the life of our kitten Sabrina was playing with, making friends. This time, however, I had to rush to the hospital, not the vet, with my 20-year-old girlfriend who would soon be 21 in October 2014. And I felt like Sabrina, trying to make friends again but by the wrong people was the reason why I, an atheist, was praying for a puppy or a kitten or a bunny's life this time again. I didn't know that lies and secrets were eating away at her from deep inside once in a while as well, it wasn't just the drugs that were killing her insides like cancer. Just like her brother's intestines silently began to consume him and her, unbeknownst to them, but I could almost sense it like a dog if I could not see it, smell it inside them like X-ray. They were unaware of what my eyes had seen, as I watched their vibrations and faces silently change.

I’ve killed Max via asphyxiation twice now. The second his heart stops beating, my machine brings him back to life via electricity, where I proceed to torture him slowly, and then kill him again. Rinse, repeat.

She was only always obsessed with whether or not I really loved her. The basic pattern of our downward doom spiral was this: Uncertainty caused her to demand evidence of my love that made sense to her. I resented her attempts to constrain my behavior (i.e. change me in ways that she felt would prove I loved her). This made her feel more uncertain and make even more desperate demands. Which I further resisted and resented. Wash, rinse and repeat for 5 years, until there’s no joy left, and whatever love you once had is now buried under a putrid mountain of resentment, anger and pain.

Builders are people who are curious, explorers. They like to invent. Even when they’re experts, they are ‘fresh’ with a beginner’s mind. They see the way we do things as just the way we do things now. A builder’s mentality helps us approach big, hard-to-solve opportunities with a humble conviction that success can come through iteration: invent, launch, reinvent, relaunch, start over, rinse, repeat, again and again. They know the path to success is anything but straight.”(Our emphasis).

Yes, you have survived, but it is bittersweet; some of the best minds of your generation have been wasted, the children that grew up with the safety blankets of money and whiteness have gotten twice as far working half as hard, they are still having the same cocaine parties that they were having twenty years ago and they still have not ever been searched by the police once, let alone had their parties raided or been choke-slammed to death. They have just bought a flat in Brixton; they go to one of the new white bars there. They pop up to the new reggae club in Ladbroke Grove, the one that serves Caribbean food but also gets nervous when more than two black guys turn up. They have no idea that the building used to be a multi-storey crack house. By twenty-five, even if you don’t read Stuart Hall, if you grew up both black and poor in the UK you will have come to know more about the inner workings of British society, about the dynamics of race, class and empire than a slew of PhDs ever will. In fact, PhDs and scriptwriters will come to the hood to drain your wisdom for their ethnographic research, as will journalists next time there is a riot. They will have careers, you will get a job. Wash, rinse, repeat.

My life is a flat line, I go through the checkpoints everyday: wake up, run, eat breakfast, go to work until I can't keep my eyes open, go home. Rinse. Repeat. There is no color, no scent, no taste.

The church sold some assets, raised money, and settled with 180 victims for $48 million. The money is small compensation, and small justice. It does not bring back the three lives that were taken, or restore the hundreds that were ruined, or end the generational ripples of sorrow still to come. Assumption was just one church, and Spokane just one town. But the pattern of abuse, the people who would never be able to repair themselves because of betrayal, happened in Boston, New York, Washington, Pittsburgh, Portland, Los Angeles , Tucson, Chicago, Milwaukee, anywhere that large numbers of Catholics lived, more than $2 billion in settlements. And it happened in Europe and South America and Africa and Australia. Apologies, high and low, have come and gone with the admissions. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

They Just Don’t Do That Anymore He used to wake me, oh so often. He’d had a bad dream, or a cough, or something felt funny inside. I would grumble, or be patient, depending on the night and how tired I was. Back to his room and tuck him in. Rinse and repeat, through many moons. But he doesn’t do that anymore. He used to be our pickiest eater. Though we’d always fed all three the same, he turned up his nose more frequently. I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on the day and all that had happened up until that point. Trying not to make it worse, we encouraged him to taste new flavors. We also honored his preferences and didn’t force it. Now he gobbles down chili, curry, many of his former not-favorites. He doesn’t do that anymore. They used to argue every day: shout, bite, whine, hit. Clamoring for position and power, each in his or her own way. I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on the state of my heart and energy level. These days plenty of disagreements occur, but so do apologies, ones I don’t always have to oversee or manage. They don’t do that anymore. The tantrums, oh dear Lord, the tantrums. “Don’t give in and they’ll soon learn that tantrums don’t work.” Ha. I never gave in, but that didn’t stop these daily events that pushed me to my limit and beyond. For years. I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on how many times we’d been down this road in the past twenty-four hours. At times I found myself sitting through the screaming, my own tears of helplessness running like rivers. Too drained to even wipe them away. Convinced I must be doing everything wrong. But they don’t do that anymore. Some mamas are reading this after multiple times up in the night. Or you’ve stumbled across these words soon after yet another shouting match. Or maybe the dinner you poured weary energy into met with a resounding lack of applause. I don’t want to minimize the stage you’re in. Don’t want to tell you, “Enjoy these days, they go by so fast.” I’m not here to patronize you. Instead let me pour a little encouragement your way: Go ahead and grumble, or be patient. You don’t have to handle all the issues perfectly. Go ahead and cry, and wonder if it’s even worth it. Go ahead and pray, for strength to make it through the next five minutes. Because one day, often when you least expect it, often when you’ve come to peace with the imperfections and decided to be happy anyway, you’ll wake up, look around in amazement and realize: They just don’t do that anymore.

Ingredients: ¼ tsp. Himalayan salt 3 tbsp. yeast Avocado oil 1 bunch of kale Directions: Rinse kale and with paper towels, dry well. Tear kale leaves into large pieces. Remember they will shrink as they cook so good sized pieces are necessary. Place kale pieces in a bowl and spritz with avocado oil till shiny. Sprinkle with salt and yeast. With your hands, toss kale leaves well to combine. Pour half of the kale mixture into air fryer. Cook 5 minutes at 350 degrees. Remove and repeat with another half of kale.

Run an experiment with a new interview process for hiring fresh talent. Try out a new customer service experiment and see what the results show. Running a high volume of controlled experiments is your best chance at driving growth while mitigating risk. Test, measure, refine. Rinse and repeat.

Pigeon observed me silently as I took my pile to the stackable washer and dryer located next to my bathroom. I decided to do a rinse cycle and then wash them. I then grabbed my phone to figure out where I’d gone wrong. Turned out only dishwasher soap should go in the dishwasher. Which was different from dishwashing liquid. And there were also handy directions on how to clean soap out of a dishwasher when you used the wrong kind. Feeling reassured that I wasn’t the only one who’d ever done this, I pulled all the dishes out of the dishwasher. When I got to the bottom rack, I noticed that the heavy pan I’d placed in there looked . . . rusted. I finally gave in and called Shay. I explained what had happened, and after she stopped laughing she told me to send her a picture of the pan in question. “You put his cast-iron pan in the dishwasher?” she shrieked when my text arrived. “Is that bad?” “So bad! I mean, there’s things you can do to try and fix it once you’ve rusted it up like that, but if you don’t want him to know . . .” “I definitely don’t want him to know.” I’d been at his place for twenty-four hours and I was already destroying his property. This did not bode well. “Then I think you’re better off buying him a new one. When you do, watch a video on how to take care of it. They’re not like regular pans.” “Why would someone buy something you couldn’t put in a dishwasher?” I asked. “Because it cooks certain foods so much better. It’s one of those things where if I have to explain it to you, you’re not going to get it. But time to replace that sucker. And make sure you season it.” She hung up before I could ask her what seasoning it meant. Time to do more research. I looked his pan up on Amazon. I gasped when I saw how much it cost. “Why would anyone spend this much on a pan that, I repeat, you cannot put in a dishwasher?” Pigeon cocked her head at me. I’d put a self-ban on online shopping mainly because American Express had invited me to stop using their card. But desperate times and all that . . . I put the pan in my shopping cart and then entered my new address and my debit card information. The new pan was going to arrive in two days, which was plenty of time before Tyler was due back. Pigeon had continued to study me, keeping her distance. Was it an improvement that she was choosing to hang around me? “We just had our first adventure together,” I told her.

I've learned largely by doing, and despite my best intentions, I've made countless mistakes. But this is how anything in life goes: You try something. You figure out what worked and what didn't. You file away lessons for the future. And then you get better. Rinse, repeat.

Wash, rinse, and repeat. Such is History.

Macaroni and Cheese Mary Mac’s Tea Room, Owner John Ferrell Serves 6 to 8 Chances are, when you look into Mary Mac’s, at least half the folks there are having fried chicken. But probably two-thirds have picked this custardy, cheese-crusted casserole as one of their sides. 1 cup macaroni 3 large eggs 2 cups whole milk 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper 2 tablespoons butter, melted 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon hot sauce 2 cups grated extra-sharp cheddar cheese Paprika Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter an 8-inch square baking dish. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add the macaroni, stir well, and simmer for 10 minutes. Pour into colander and rinse. Drain until almost dry. In a medium bowl, beat the eggs until light yellow. Add the milk, white pepper, butter, salt, and hot sauce and mix well. Put a layer of cooked macaroni in the prepared baking dish. Add a layer of the egg mixture, then a layer of the cheese. Repeat the layers, ending with cheese on top. Dust with paprika. Bake for 35–40 minutes, or until the custard is set. Serve hot.

It works like this: Theorists get funding because they write about hypothetical particles that experiments can look for. Experimentalists get funding to search for the hypothetical particles, which encourages more theorists to write papers about those particles, which makes the particles appear more interesting, which gives rise to more experiments. Rinse and repeat. This results in a lot of papers. It looks really productive, but there is no reason to think this cycle will converge on a theory that is an actually correct description of nature. More likely, it will converge on a theory that can be eternally amended so that one needs ever better experiments to find the particles. Which is basically what has been going on the past 40 years.

to quinoa is the protective substance the plant excretes to deter from being eaten.  It is a bitter tasting substance which must be washed off first.   Just fill a pot with cold water, ‘wash’ the quinoa in it, then tip into a sieve over the sink and repeat.  Most retailers stock pre-rinsedquinoa, some will need to be rinsed well. One cooked cup of quinoa has only 220 calories and a Glycaemic Index of 18.  It is low in fat and high in fibre, making it a good carbohydrate choice for diabetics. 

Garlic-Parmesan Chickpeas Snacking is life, and chickpeas are both healthy and packed with protein. As a bonus, you can reserve the liquid from their can, or “aquafaba,” for a vegan egg substitute (3 tablespoons per large egg and 2 tablespoons per large egg white). Or use it for Zucchini Soldiers (page 113) or “N’awlins” Tofu (page 47). MAKES 2 SERVINGS Ingredients: 1 can (15 ounces) chickpeas, drained, rinsed, and patted dry 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 tablespoon grated Parmesan cheese or vegan Parmesan sprinkle cheese 1 teaspoon garlic powder 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning Pantry items: Kosher salt Directions: Preheat the air fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a medium bowl, combine the chickpeas, olive oil, cheese, garlic powder, Italian seasoning, and a large pinch of salt. Transfer the chickpeas to the fry basket and cook for 12 minutes. Stir and cook until crispy and golden, 3–5 minutes more. Depending on the amount of moisture, you may need to repeat this step in increments of 2–3 minutes. Store in an airtight container for up to 5 days.

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Burgers This crowd-pleaser is sure to gain you some new fans. Double or triple the recipe and use in your weekly meal prep. (They freeze well, too! Fully thaw in the fridge then pop in the air fryer to cook.) Serve on whole wheat buns with lettuce, thick-cut tomato, and avocado. Top with a healthier Sriracha mayo using equal parts Greek yogurt and mayo, adding a little Sriracha to taste. MAKES 4 BURGERS Ingredients: 1 cup mashed cooked sweet potato 1 cup cooked brown rice ¾ cup rinsed-and-drained canned black beans (about ½ the can) 2 tablespoons taco seasoning Pantry items: Cooking spray Directions: Preheat the air fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a medium bowl, mix together the sweet potato, rice, beans, and taco seasoning until well combined. Divide the mixture into 4 equal portions and form into patties, about 4 inches wide. Lightly coat with cooking spray and place 2 patties in the fry basket. Cook for 7 minutes. Flip and cook until firm to the touch and browned, 5–7 minutes more. Repeat for the remaining 2 patties.

Falafel Kebabs This recipe easily transforms into patties for making pita sandwiches. Cook them in the fry basket until golden brown, about 5 minutes per side. Serve the falafel with tzatziki sauce. MAKES ABOUT 12 FALAFEL Ingredients: 1 can (15 ounces) chickpeas, drained and rinsed 1 handful flat-leaf parsley, coarsely chopped ¼ small red onion, chopped ½ teaspoon garlic powder Pantry items: Kosher salt Freshly ground black pepper Olive oil 4 skewers (see Note) Multi-purpose skewer rack Directions: Preheat the fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a food processor, pulse together the chickpeas, parsley, onion, garlic powder, a large pinch of salt, and a pinch of pepper. With the motor running, add olive oil, 1 tablespoon at a time (up to 4 tablespoons), until the mixture becomes the consistency of crunchy peanut butter. Spoon out about 2 tablespoons of the mixture and roll into a ball (wet your hands, if necessary, to prevent sticking). Set on a plate, and repeat until all the mixture has all been used. Thread 3 falafel on each skewer. Set the skewers on the rack (put 3 on the rack and 1 directly on the fry basket beneath, if your rack has space for only 3 skewers). Cook for 10 minutes. Rotate the skewers and cook until the falafel begin to brown, 5 minutes more.

Fun Proactive-Me moves out and reactionary Survival-Me moves in. I keep everything humming, but I lose my spontaneity, my thirst for adventure, and my desire to learn and try new things. Instead, I become an expert in making my day-to-day life easier and as predictable as possible—cleaning the house, shopping for groceries, making dinner, doing laundry. Rinse and repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Over time, my sparkle dims, dulled by the monotonous routines of life.