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Golden Livingcenter - Riverview
428 N 6 Th St, Tomahawk, WI
- Nursing Home
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Payment Options
- Medicare Yes
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- Veteran's Benefits No
- Long Term Care Insurance No
- Subsidy Available No
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Description of Golden Livingcenter - Riverview in Tomahawk, WI
Number of Beds : 16
Move your loved one into Golden Livingcenter Riverview, a warm, respect-filled hospice, rehab and respite community, and get the best care available in Tomahawk, WI. Golden Livingcenter Riverview helps seniors find the worry-free lifestyle they want. There are hospice, rehab and respite services available in this community. For help on finding the perfect senior living option for you, call today.
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Demographic Profile for Tomahawk, WI, 54487
Cost Of Living
Compared to the National Average
Provided By EPA; Closer to 100 is better
Annual Crime
Nearby Hospitals
Sacred Heart Hsptl401 W Mohawk Dr Ste 100
Tomahawk WI 54487
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Northbay Pharmacy, Inc686 N 4 Th St
Distance: 0.1 miles
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Much of the 1930s-era Securities legislation, which served us well for more than 70 years, is about to be repealed in a moment of bipartisan madness.
Almost all attempts to amend the House version of this legislation – and to make it more favorable to investors – have now failed in the Senate, and the "cloture motion" received more than 60 votes (so the bill cannot be filibustered). But Senator Jack Reed (D., Rhode Island) is leading one last charge to make the Senate version more reasonable.
Here is the issue with H.R. 3606 (as the House version of the bill is known), from Senator Reed's website:
"The SEC requires public companies to disclose meaningful financial information to the public. This provides a common pool of knowledge for all investors to judge for themselves whether to buy, sell, or hold a particular security. Only through the steady flow of timely, comprehensive, and accurate public information can people make sound investment decisions. The result of this information flow is a far more active, efficient, and transparent capital market that facilitates the capital formation so important to our nation's economy. H.R. 3606 would roll back key investor protections, denying the public critical information that is essential to make sound judgments and would ultimately not lead to the proposed goal of the bill: providing for access to capital, particularly for small emerging companies."
The "JOBS" bill would permit even very large companies to avoid all public disclosures.
Amazingly, it would also exempt these companies from having to comply with the federal regulation regarding mergers and acquisition. Private equity firms would even be able to manipulate the market while making a tender offer for shares – the kind of behavior that has really been taboo (and illegal) since the 1930s.
Senator Reed has put forward an amendment, #1931, that will at least partially retain some of our existing investor protections and disclosure requirements.
Specifically, Senator Reed's amendment would close or limit a major loophole that will allow large companies to avoid registering with the SEC (and therefore escape much regulation). The Reed Amendment would clarify how to define "shareholders" for the purpose of determining if a business is so widely owned that it must register with the SEC. Under the Amendment, the count should be based on beneficial owners of the shares, i.e., real people. The goal is to prevent evasion of the SEC registration threshold through "nominal" owners holding the shares for large numbers of beneficial owners.
Big companies like H.R. 3606 – they will be regulated less and if the cost of capital rises for start-ups, that actually helps them. The Chamber of Commerce, the American Bankers' Association, and the Independent Community Bankers of America have all weighed in heavily against the Reed Amendment – the idea of escaping SEC scrutiny greatly appeals to them.
The Chamber of Commerce's letter against the Amendment to Senators closes with this statement – or you might call it a threat (bold and underlining in the original):
"The Chamber strongly opposes this amendment and may consider including votes on, or in relation to, this amendment in our How They Voted scorecard."
Under Senate rules, the Reed Amendment would need just 51 votes today in order to pass. But against this kind of corporate firepower, does this entirely reasonable Amendment have any chance?

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Mall name:
10300 W. Forest Hill Blvd., Suite 2000, Wellington, Florida - FL 33414
Phone number to The Mall at Wellington Green mall
561 227 6900
Hours (mall)
Monday - Saturday 10:00 am - 9:00 pm, Sunday 11:00 am - 6:00 pm.
Driving directions
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Doubletree Hotels Gonzales hotels are provided below. Search for cheap and discount Doubletree Hotels hotel rooms in Gonzales, LA for your group or personal travels. We list the best Doubletree Hotels Gonzales lodging properties so you can review the Gonzales Doubletree Hotels hotel list below to find the perfect place.
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The preferred term is size-challenged planets.
The preferred term is size-challenged planets.
That projects too much negativity. The new recommended term which looks to a more positive future is: "Presently Accreting Planets".
> The new recommended term which looks to a more positive future is:
> "Presently Accreting Planets".
That's not so positive if you live on one.
All planets are presently accreting. Go outside tonight and look for accretion events (AKA shooting stars).
Pluto may be a dwarf planet, but it has a LONG orbit.
Planets were in the past, for example, emissaries of the gods. The Moon was considered a quite distinct body. Epicycles and heavenly sphere have also went away.
So what is the point of the heliocentric definition of a planet?
I don't mind if Io, Europa, Ganymede, Callisto, Titan, and other similar bodies are all classified as "dwarf planets". It would be an excellent definition.
Heck, I think Mercury ought to be classified as perhaps a "dwarf planet" and that a line be drawn between planets that are merely large enough to become spherical and those which can hold an atmosphere. Another category ought to also include those planets for which a majority of the mass is
What happens in Titan's neighborhood is determined mainly by the gravity of Saturn. Everything that happens now (its orbit, what impacts it) is dominated by Saturn's gravity, and everything about Titan's past (formation out of the dust disc that circled the early Saturn) was dominated by Saturn's gravity.
It's not heliocentrism, it's a recognition that gravitational relationships are hierarchical. That's true from moons to plants to stars to galaxies to clusters.
Going in the other direction, there's de
Although there certainly deserves to be a classification note of some kind that identifies those objects which are dominated gravitationally by some other body, I don't think it really is well deserving to be so hard-nosed about dismissing Titan as a planet here either. With the sole exception that it happens to be dominated by Saturn rather than the Sun, it really does fit every other conceivable definition of a planet, and certainly would be called one if it were merely orbiting the Sun.
I do envision tha
The IAU's definition decrees that a dwarf planet must orbit the Sun, must not be a satellite of another planet, must not have cleared its orbit of debris (like larger planets do) and it must be of sufficient mass to assume a nearly round shape. They also state that dwarf planets should be of a certain brightness, which is only possible with objects with a radius of more than 420 km.
The moon orbits the Earth, not the sun.
As I understand it, it's not currently classified as one because the earth-moon system's centre of gravity is inside the earth.
The moon orbits the Earth, not the sun.
Isn't that what he said?
No, seriously, doesn't
"the earth-moon system's centre of gravity is inside the earth"
mean the same as
"The moon orbits the Earth"
Or do I just read it like that as I already knew it, therefore I automatically draw a conclusion?
The moon does not orbit the earth, nor the sun. The earth doesn't orbit the sun for that matter.
The earth/moon system orbits its barycenter and that barycenter, the sun and barycenter of the other planet systems orbit the combined barycenter of the solar system.
I am technically correct, and that is the best type of correct.
I am technically correct, and that is the best type of correct.
No, that is the worst kind of correct. It does not allow one to make up different interpretations to confirm our pre-existing beliefs. The best kind of correct is when the correctness leads to the maximum of amount of feel-good among believers.
*This post is ambiguously serious. This is the best kind of serious.
The moon does not orbit the earth [...] The earth/moon system orbits its barycenter
And where, pray tell, is the Earth/Moon barycenter?
Why, Nadaka, it's 1,710 km below the surface of the Earth. I'm pretty sure that qualifies as "The Earth".
The Earth/Sun barycenter is below the surface of the Sun (449 km from the center), and I'm pretty sure that qualifies as "The Sun".
So you're not technically correct in saying that the Moon doesn't orbit the Earth or the Earth doesn't orbit the Sun. But you are, technicall
I bought a Russian space trip to this "Bary's Center" place that's allegedly so important, and it turned out there was nothing there. No refund allowed either. Thus, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't exist! Bary moved, folks.
must not be a satellite of another planet
This point emphasizes it better.
Snowy cold and the several dwarfs.
A cold-blooded gang of hoodlums cruising around the neighborhood waiting to drop in unannounced.
Why is Pluto in for another demotion? It still fits the proposed Dwarf Planet description, right?
I was thinking the same thing too. A demotion in the sense that you got other people promoted to your level and you got nothing.
I knew where the Planet of the Apes was, but I had no idea where the Planet of the Dwarfs was.
Plutoids ain't got no reason to live.
This is just totally fucking unfair. Leave Pluto alone!!!!!
Just name them potato planets.
I for one couldn't care less what category Pluto falls under. Planet, Dwarf Planet, Pototoid, Potato Chip. Who cares. I have no emotional attachment.
What I do care about is bad science and bad classification. The current definition stinks. The problems I have
1. A 'dwarf planet' is not a subclass of 'planet' as one would expect from the name. It should have been named something different.
2. The definitions refers to our the sun. Not the star which the planet orbits but 'the sun'. That makes it sound like extrasolar planets are not planets either.
3. The definition of planet requires that the body has cleared it's orbit. So while it is forming early in the solar system it is not a planet then one day "poof" by magic we have a planet.
4. The draft proposal was nothing like the final proposal. The definition was passed on the last day of that IAU conference when lots of scientists had already gone. That suggests a political pissing match rather than well thought out science.
5. The definition is not consistent with what had been taught for decades, and there was no good reason for that.
I have an Astronomy degree that I did for fun and that I have never used professionally. I lost all respect for the IAU on the day they released their crappy definition.
I'm fairly certain the 'dwarf planet' classification was so-named because it was a foolish compromise with those who wanted to believe that Pluto was still a planet, because they'd been taught for generations that there were 9 planets. If I remember correctly, changing Ceres from being a planet to an asteroid to a dwarf planet wasn't anywhere near as controversial.
But then there was the foolish compromise in order to not simply add more planets to the list, because they'd been taught for generations that there were only 9 planets.
What was foolish was attempting to come up with an algorithmic definition of planet instead of accepting that a planet (in our solar system) is any one of the nine objects on the list of planets.
They should just call Pluto an "honorary planet", give it a plaque and a gold watch, and be done with it.
The definition of planet requires that the body has cleared it's orbit. So while it is forming early in the solar system it is not a planet then one day "poof" by magic we have a planet.
The moon still keeps getting in the way of the Earth. Perhaps we should demote ourselves too.
An object can be "cleared" from another object's orbit without actually leaving the physical proximity of the other object. It suffices that the dynamics of the situation are such that there's no chance that the two objects will ever collide. This means that both moons and objects in resonant orbits (eg Jupiter's Trojan asteroids, which are in a 1:1 resonant orbit, and Pluto, which is in a 3:2 resonance with Neptune) are considered "cleared" from a planet's orbit.
There actually are more rigorous ways of
I think you'll find that what's actually occurred here is that just as a "dwarf planet" is technically not a planet, an "extra-solar planet" also doesn't fit the definition and therefore also isn't technically a planet.
A good definition makes things clearer. This definition clearly fails by that criteria.
Also my point about clearing the orbit was more about the formation of the planet. Even with a solid body formed and most of it's mass present, if it's still part of the solar disk and still subject to bomb
Extrasolar planets have a whole other definition that was established just for them already. If you've got a problem with that one, arguing about the 2006 definition of solar planets instead is kind of pointless. The extrasolar one is labeled as a "working" definition anyway so I doubt there's much controversy over the fact that it's not very good yet.
The Stern-Levison parameter of an object is unaffected by whether it's being bombarded, it's only meant to show the object's orbit-clearing capability. Uns
So an extra-solar planet is not a planet. A dwarf planet is not a planet. Why the hell does the word planet appear in the definition? It's unnecessarily confusing and you are defending the indefensible. This is exactly the kind of stupidity that gets scientists labelled as socially incompetent propeller heads.
2. The definitions refers to our the sun. Not the star which the planet orbits but 'the sun'. That makes it sound like extrasolar planets are not planets either.
Given that we don't have much information about extrasolar planets yet, making up such definitions is bad science in general, not just bad astronomy.
We aught to survey another system by probe before determining whether our local definitions apply to other systems. Especially, for example, rules for small objects determined by politics.
Specifically referring to our sun and not to any primary star was done on purpose. After all, there's really no way you can tell whether something in another solar system has cleared its orbit. If you applied the definition to other systems you'd never be able to know if anything there is a planet.
Which is precisely why the definition including a reference to Sol is a bad definition. Taxonomy of astronomical bodies should be made based on the physical characteristics of that body, not the evolutionary state of whatever place it happens to be located near.
I still don't get why Mercury is a planet, yet Titan isn't. Or better yet, why Mercury isn't a dwarf planet either? This was an arbitrary decision of an arbitrary definition that in the long run is going to need an adjustment when other things sho
> I say we stick with the good an ancient definition of planets, which
> includes the Moon and the Sun, but not Uranus or Neptune.
And not the Earth.
I say we stick with the traditional nine, and define "planet" as an object on the list of planets.
Classifications of such are mostly to make conversation and communication simpler. Technically, they are probably imprecise, but it only matters if used in the wrong context. Language is a useful lie. Trying to force language to be thorough and concise at the same time is often an impossible goal. If you want to know the size, weight, and shape of a specific "thing" in space, then ask.
That being said, I'd personally vote to call them "Kuiper belt objects" (KBO). That way one doesn't have to worry about clas
Yes classification is hard, human language is imprecise, but there's no need to throw the baby out with the bath water.
TFA says nothing about re-classifying Pluto out of the "dwarf planet" category. In fact there is no FA, only a picture. And it's quite obvious from that picture that Pluto far exceeds the 300 km radius that is the proposed threshold.
I though Sailor Chibi-Moon aka. (the even more annoying sawed off munchkin version of Sailor Moon) was bad enough.
Now we are going to Have all of these Dwarf Planets represented by hundreds of annoying sawed off Sailor Scouts. Plus their names will be damned confusing. Names like: "Sailor (55565) 2002 AW", Sailor Makemake, Sailor "(84522) 2002 TC302", Sailor 50000 Quaoar. I mean what the hell is their Transomation scene going to sound like? Sailor Makemake Make-up.... That just sounds completely retar
"Heigh-ho, heigh-ho..."
And in this case, the vacuum is a merciful thing...
I heard a pimp singing that last week.
"High ho', High ho', it off to work she go..."
Dwarf Planets Accumulate??
What, is our solar system some sort of drive-by dumping ground for other stars' litter?
How science defines things is not always the same as how the ''common man'' calls things. For instance: botanically a tomato is a fruit, most of my friends think of it as a vegetable; also botanically rhubarb is a vegetable, most of my friends think of it as fruit.
To most people, myself included, pluto will remain a planet - I don't care what the astronomers think!
after all, we've got "Uranus". Since the jokes aint gonna stop, let's just go with the theme and see where it takes us.
...of dwarf planets."
Well, neither do I. Noodles are fine for dinner, too.
That in and as of itself does not count very much unless said researcher is shown to be a leader of opinion and/or part of a larger consensus. I don't claim to know either way, simply wanted to point that out.
The rich get rich, and the poor get poorer. The haves get more, the have-nots die.


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Better than mashed potatoes
Mashed cauliflower makes a fair imitation mashed potatoes – but for any potato lover, it's a little disappointing, so I decided to try to have the best of both worlds, by combining potato (just a little bit) with the cauliflower (a whole lot).
The result is awesome, and only about 10 to 20 more calories per serving than the instant cauliflower alone.
1 large head cauliflower
about 2 cups of chicken broth (a 14 to 16 oz can or 2 cups water and a bouillon cube)
1 small potato, or 1 serving's worth (1/3 to 1/4 cup dry, I believe) of instant mashed potato flakes
liquid for mashing (reserved hot cooking broth and skim milk)
In a roomy dutch oven, I steam a whole large, trimmed cauliflower in the 2 cups of broth (the broth doesn't cover the cauliflower) and cover the pan and simmer until the cauliflower is tender. I drain out any of the broth into a cup (in case I need extra moisture). I microwave the potato in the meanwhile (if I'm not using flakes). Then I mash the cauliflower with a potato masher (I mash the potato with it, or add the flakes as I mash) with a little bit of skim milk (maybe a quarter cup) and a little bit of the reserved broth. Sometimes I toss in green onion (the white and an inch or two of the greens), sliced thin right before draining (they're also good tossed in raw during the mashing instead).
Personally, I like them better than the typical mashed potatoes. They have a lighter, creamier texture and just melt in your mouth – Almost a cross between colcannon (and if you add the onions) champ, two irish mashed potato dishes (recipe link below), without the calories of all the potato and the added butter.


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I've got 2 summer weight 3/4 length UQs and I'm wondering if I could deploy them both in a colder than summer situation. Has anyone tried this? Can anyone see any potential problems?
I've got 2 summer weight 3/4 length UQs and I'm wondering if I could deploy them both in a colder than summer situation. Has anyone tried this? Can anyone see any potential problems?
"Live like you will die tomorrow, but learn like you will live forever." Gandhi
Certainly. Doubling up on quilts is very common. Just make sure one doesn't constrict the other.
I am planning this for a full length and a 3/4. May not get you to really cold weather, but should work. You just don't want the outer one pulled too tight, and squish the inner one, then you would loose the insulating value of the UQ....RR
I'm a member of PETA!!!!
I did this recently on a group hang here locally. Woke up a bit cold the first night at around 5am, wife was even colder and decided to come home for the second night. I kept both her TQ & UQ (both from Underground quilts and both rated for 20*) and used them both.
I know the temps were in the minus (celcius), although I'm not sure of the exact temp for both nights, if I had to guess -4 or -5 plus a windchill. I deployed both sets of quilts for the night, I also added a hot water bottle between my legs, so I'm not exactly sure what gave me more heat, but I had to throw the top quilt off by midnight - I was roasting. I simply moved it over the RL and at my feet. I didn't really feel any difference from under me but it's really hard to say for sure.
In conclusion I felt like the doubling up the TQ's provided much more warmth than doubling up the UQ's. This is very subjective as I have no conclusive data to actually prove this. Also keep in mind that they are both UQ's are full length. I would try this experiment again given the opportunity but I also have a travel sock from Warbonnet on the way so I doubt that the chance this winter as I plan on testing the sock out. I'm really undecided what provided more warmth; the hot water or the extra TQ. I will say that I was starting to sweat with the second quilt on top before removing it.
Hopefully others have tried this and will chime in but certainly you can't go wrong experimenting yourself. As has already been mentioned make sure that you don't compress the one quilt with the other.
Thanks for the replies so far.
One thing that's puzzling me is; as both my UQs are 3/4 length, should I line them up and use my usual footpad or stagger them beneath me?
"Live like you will die tomorrow, but learn like you will live forever." Gandhi
Too many variables to answer. Try it either way. How do you sleep (hot, cold), do your legs/feet get very cold, do you want more warmth at the torso or legs? Does a pad under your legs work well for the temp range you will be in and are you? Is it full coverage you're after? Then stagger them one at the legs and one at the torso and head.
Try one way, if your cold in the night, it's easy enough to move and adjust, plus the effort of getting up and moving things around will probably warm you up also.
If you're taking a longer trip then maybe find time to hang somewhere before hand, even for a few hours and experiment. It's hammocking after all, there is no wrong way to do it, except maybe upside down (especially without a bug net to catch you).
I've done this with a winter quilt and a 3 season quilt to make a full length quilt. works great. again you just have to make sure they don't compress each other which negates your reason.
you can see what I mean in this video at about a 1:15
Husband, Father, and Friend.
Scout Master and Cub Master for Troop/Pack 705 of


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2004-05 Men's Basketball
Anderson University 69, Bluffton University 67
Anderson defeats Bluffton on the road
By Ben Risinger, sports information director
February 12, 2005
ANDERSON, Ind. - The Bluffton University men's basketball team (12-11, 5-7 HCAC) was defeated 69-67 by Anderson University (10-13, 3-9 HCAC) in Heartland Conference action on Feb. 12.
Sophomore Michael Anthony (Ohio City/Delphos St. John's) led Bluffton with 15 points and seven rebounds for the game. Junior Scott Bergman (Elmore/Woodmore) posted 14 points, seven rebounds and three steals. Junior Eric Sweet (Ottawa/Ottawa-Glandorf) rounded off the double figure scoring with 11 points and seven rebounds. Sophomore Eric Schwieterman (St. Henry/St. Henry) dished out seven assists for the afternoon.
The Ravens led the contest for most of the first period as Bluffton came alive with six minutes left before halftime. With six minutes left the Beavers found themselves down nine points (24-15) only to crush Anderson's lead with great play by both Sweet and Anthony. In the final stretch leading into halftime the two combined for 14 points (seven points each) to tie the game at 34 all.
Anderson led by nine points in the second half as Bluffton came back to tie the game (60-60) with five minutes left to play. Both teams took the contest down the stretch as Anderson led by two points (69-67) with 18 seconds left. The Beavers then took a quick timeout and put the ball in bounds only to miss three chances and give Anderson the win in the final seconds.
The Ravens shot 47 percent (27-of-57) for the game to Bluffton's 42 percent (27-of-63). The Beavers out-rebounded Anderson as they pulled down 38 rebounds to the Ravens 34.
Bluffton University will be back at home on Wednesday, Feb. 16, when they host rival Defiance College. Tip off for the contest is scheduled for 7:30 p.m.


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posted by Thom Holwerda on Wed 25th Oct 2006 15:45 UTC, submitted by
'Why Apple Failed' promised to reveal an accidental discovery that was key to Apple's recovery. Here's it is: the real reason the company was able to turn things around and create new growth for the Mac platform. Why Apple Bounced Back.


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The Jaguars haven't given fans many reasons for real hope in recent years. Through last week's draft, new G.M. Dave Caldwell has provided fans with at least two guys who will generate a lot of hope, immediately.
Running back/receiver Denard Robinson and safety Johnathan Cyprien have raised eyebrows in the team's rookie minicamp.
Robinson stood out in a rainy practice session on Friday, before heading to Michigan for his college graduation. "I know he's a weapon from looking at all the college film. Now it's a matter of what can he do best for us. He will primarily play running back, but we're looking forward to be able to move him around to a lot of other spots as well," offensive coordinator Jedd Fisch said of the converted quarterback, via Vito Stellino of the Florida Times-Union.
"One of our philosophies on offense is trying to get [the ball] in the playmakers' hands," Fisch added. "That's why you saw him play some multiple positions just to see what he can do, what he can take on and give him a little bit of flavor."
"That was one guy who really showed up in my eyes," coach Gus Bradley said of Cyprien, per Ryan O'Halloran of the Florida Times-Union. "I was very pleased with his start."
Mark Long of the Associated Press remarked that Cyprien was a "man among boys" at the Friday session, intercepting a Matt Scott pass that resulted in Scott spraining an ankle as he chased him.
While it's important to remember that these sessions consist of rookies and tryout players going against other rookies and tryout players, it's an encouraging start for a franchise that has a long way to go to return to competitiveness. Robinson and Cyprien could be key pieces in the effort to turn things around.


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CheapTickets Verified Reviews
Get an overview of this hotel4-star Houston hotel in The Galleria with free local shuttle
Popular property highlights
With a stay at Royal Sonesta Houston Galleria in Houston (The Galleria), you'll be within a 15-minute drive of George R. Brown Convention Center and Houston Zoo.
This 4-star hotel is 8.5 mi (13.7 km) from Discovery Green and 3 mi (4.8 km) from Memorial Park.
Make yourself at home in one of the 485 air-conditioned rooms featuring refrigerators and flat-screen televisions. Cable programming and video-game consoles are provided for your entertainment, while complimentary wireless Internet access keeps you connected. Private bathrooms with shower/tub combinations feature hair dryers and slippers. Conveniences include phones, as well as safes and desks.
Enjoy a range of recreational amenities, including a health club, an outdoor pool, and a spa tub. Additional features at this hotel include complimentary wireless Internet access, concierge services, and gift shops/newsstands. Getting to nearby attractions is a breeze with the complimentary area shuttle that operates within 3 mi.
For lunch or dinner, stop by ARA, a restaurant that specializes in international cuisine. Dining is also available at the coffee shop/café, and 24-hour room service is provided. Wrap up your day with a drink at the bar/lounge. Buffet breakfasts are available daily for a fee.
Featured amenities include complimentary wired Internet access, a 24-hour business center, and limo/town car service. Planning an event in Houston? This hotel has 50000 square feet (4645 square meters) of space consisting of a conference center and meeting rooms. A roundtrip airport shuttle is provided for a surcharge during limited hours, and self parking (subject to charges) is available onsite.
Languages Spoken
- English
Royal Sonesta Houston Galleria
Hotel Amenities
Hotel Amenities
In addition to an outdoor pool, Royal Sonesta Houston Galleria provides a health club and a spa tub. Dining options at the hotel include a restaurant, a coffee shop/café, and a snack bar/deli. A bar/lounge is on site where guests can unwind with a drink. A computer station is located on site and wired and wireless Internet access is complimentary.
Business amenities at this 4-star property consist of a 24-hour business center, limo/town car service, and meeting rooms. Event facilities measuring 50000 square feet (4645 square meters) include a conference center. This business-friendly hotel also offers multilingual staff, gift shops/newsstands, and coffee/tea in a common area. An area shuttle within 3 mi and a shopping center shuttle are complimentary for guests. Parking is available onsite for a surcharge. A total renovation of this property was completed in September 2014.
Royal Sonesta Houston Galleria is a smoke-free property.
- Express check-in
- Bar/lounge
- Coffee/tea in common areas
- Free shopping center shuttle
- Elevator/lift
- 24-hour front desk
- Conference space
- Porter/bellhop
- Express check-out
- Number of bathrooms - 1
- Meeting rooms 10
- Restaurant
- Year Built 1981
- Coffee shop or café
- Dry cleaning/laundry service
- Free WiFi
- Self parking (surcharge)
- Health club
- Valet parking (surcharge)
- Free wired Internet
- Limo or Town Car service available
- Outdoor pool
- Computer station
- Smoke-free property
- Safe-deposit box at front desk
- Conference space size (meters) - 4645
- Free area shuttle
- Luggage storage
- ATM/banking
- Breakfast available (surcharge)
- 24-hour business center
- Concierge services
- Conference space size (feet) - 50000
- Gift shops or newsstand
- Conference center
- Snack bar/deli
- Shopping on site
- Laundry facilities
- Spa tub
- Total number of rooms - 485
- Television in common areas
- Number of floors - 23
- Number of buildings/towers - 1
- Wedding services
- Airport transportation (surcharge)
- Multilingual staff
Family Friendly Amenities
- Family Hotel
- Outdoor pool
- Free Wi-Fi
- Area shuttle (complimentary)
- Snack bar/deli
- Laundry facilities
- Refrigerator
- Cribs/infant beds (complimentary)
Available in all rooms: Free WiFi
Available in some public areas: Free WiFi , Free wired Internet
Languages Spoken
- English
- French
- Spanish
Self parking (surcharge), Valet parking (surcharge)
Room Amenities
- Free cribs/infant beds
- Connecting/adjoining rooms available
- Slippers
- Premium TV channels
- Pay movies
- Video-game console
- Separate sitting area
- In-room climate control (air conditioning)
- Air conditioning
- Free newspaper
- Phone
- Coffee/tea maker
- Daily housekeeping
- Private bathroom
- Hair dryer
- Shower/tub combination
- Cable TV service
- Iron/ironing board
- In-room safe
- Desk
- Refrigerator
- Flat-panel TV
- Free WiFi
- Room service (24 hours)
- Rollaway/extra beds (surcharge)
Where to Eat
Buffet breakfasts are available for a surcharge and are served each morning.
ARA - This restaurant specializes in international cuisine and serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Open daily.
Axis Lounge - This lobby lounge serves light fare only. Happy hour is offered. Open daily.
Launch - This coffee shop specializes in American cuisine and serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Open daily.
24-hour room service is available.
Nearby Things to Do
An outdoor pool and a spa tub are on site. Other recreational amenities include a health club.
If you have requests for specific accessibility needs, please note them at check-out when you book your room.
- Accessible bathroom
- Roll-in shower
- In-room accessibility
Hotel Policies
Check-in time starts at 3 PM
Minimum check-in age is 21
Special check-in instructions:
Check-out time is noon
Payment types
Children and extra beds
- Children are welcome.
- Kids stay free! Children 17 years old and younger stay free when using existing bedding.
- Rollaway/extra beds are available.
- Free cribs (infant beds)!
- Pets allowed for an extra charge of USD 50.00 per pet, per day
- Dogs only
- 2 per room (up to 40 lb)
- Restrictions apply
- For more information contact the property at the number on the booking confirmation
You need to know
Extra-person charges may apply and vary depending on property policy.
- Deposit: USD 50 per night
Optional extras
- Fee for buffet breakfast: USD 21 per person (approximately)
- Airport shuttle fee: USD 28 per person (one way)
- Self parking fee: USD 22.00 per night (in/out privileges)
- Valet parking fee: USD 32.00 per night (in/out privileges)
- Pet fee: USD 50.00 per pet, per day
- A late check-out fee will be charged
- Rollaway beds are available for an additional fee
Hotel Name
- Houston Royal Sonesta Hotel
- Houston Sonesta Hotel
- Royal Houston
- Royal Sonesta
- Royal Sonesta Hotel
- Royal Sonesta Hotel Houston
- Royal Sonesta Houston
- Sonesta Hotel Houston
- Royal Sonesta Houston Galleria Hotel
- Royal Sonesta Houston Galleria
We should mention
This property offers transfers from the airport (surcharges may apply). Guests must contact the property with arrival details before travel, using the contact information on the booking confirmation. Children 17 years old and younger stay free when occupying the parent or guardian's room, using existing bedding. Only registered guests are allowed in the guestrooms. The property has connecting/adjoining rooms, which are subject to availability and can be requested by contacting the property using the number on the booking confirmation. Some facilities may have restricted access. Guests can contact the property for details using the contact information on the booking confirmation. Guests can arrange to bring pets by contacting the property directly, using the contact information on the booking confirmation (surcharges apply and can be found in the Fees section).


text:
Times have certainly changed in Brooklyn. Streets unsafe last decade now bustle invitingly. Composers born in the borough last century couldn't get away fast enough. Composers from all over now can't move there fast enough.
Thursday night at Walt Disney Concert Hall the Los Angeles Philharmonic continued its Brooklyn Festival with three recent or new orchestra pieces by young Brooklyn residents all born in the early 1980s elsewhere.
The fourth and final work on the program was by a 24-year-old just returned from studying in Paris and happily ensconced on the Upper West Side, intentionally putting as much New York City distance between himself and his native Brooklyn as was reasonable.
PHOTOS: Arts and culture in pictures by The Times
That was Aaron Copland. The year was 1924. The work was his Organ Symphony, which launched his career and which got a sensationally gothic performance from soloist Cameron Carpenter and a fine young conductor, Joshua Weilerstein. It is the product of a feisty young Modernist eager to bring the news of the latest musical fashions from Paris to New York along with then-novel bits of jazz in the concert hall. (This was also the year of "Rhapsody in Blue.")


text:
Both Tornado teams received a bye week in preparation of the Conference Carolinas Championships being held in Charlotte, N.C. on Friday, Oct. 21. The top three positions on both the men's and women's side of the Southeast region poll were untouched, with King nestled in between league foes Queens (N.C.) and in front of Mount Olive.
"We are right there with some of last year's national top-10 cross country programs," said Head Coach Peter Dalton. "For King to be named alongside of those teams tells us that we are making great strides at competing with teams of that caliber."
Over the last week, Spencer Frantom (Morristown, Tenn.) has been recognized by the College and Conference Carolinas with accolades stemming from his most recent performance at the Greater Louisville Classic, finishing eleventh overall and just seconds from matching his school-record-setting time set in September. Frantom was named the SAAC Male Athlete of the Month by the King College Student-Athlete Advisory Committee on Oct. 8 and just days prior was named the Conference Carolinas Male Runner of the Week (Oct. 5).
Dalton said, "The team is excited about competing in our first Conference Carolinas Championship and to once again represent King at regionals with goals to and make it to Nationals."
At the Greater Louisville Classic (Louisville, Ky.) on Oct. 1, the men's team had all five runners cross the finish line before the turn of the 27-minute marker and featured fellow Morristown, Tenn. native, Jordan Noe, set a new personal record with a 26:07.95 time.
The women's team continued to show improvement as a squad behind the leadership of Danielle Beauvais (Winchester, Va.) and Kendra Sokol (Kingsport, Tenn.) who finished at The Classic one second apart to lead the team. The Lady Tornado improve their team spread time by nearly 40 seconds from their previous race in Clemson, S.C. in September.
The top two finishers in each region poll are awarded an automatic bid to the NCAA Division II National Tournament held on Nov. 19. The King women's Cross Country team finished second in the Southeast region a season ago, making them the first Tornado team to advance to a NCAA national tournament in school history after its transition from NAIA in 2010. The men narrowly missed the National Tournament last season, finishing third in the region.


text:
Entrepreneurship can feel like an illness—working day and night with big vision, but little cash flow. Some businesses work. Some don't. At a certain point you have to decide: Is my business thriving or do I need to make a major change, or even fold?
On the one hand, sales can take years to build. Some businesses fail because founders give uptoo early.
On the other hand, if you're not seeing revenue trend to the positive and your bank account is wearing thin, there may be a fundamental flaw in your model.
Angela Jia Kim, founder of Savor the Success, notes, "You have to push hardest when you launch—like giving birth to a baby.
"At some point that baby must grow up and take care of you and start giving you a paycheck, or else what's the point of having a business? If you feel stagnant or unmotivated around finding solutions to challenges, maybe it's time to reinvent."


text:
The Lakeland Police Department is "broken" and Chief Lisa Womack should be fired, Polk County State Attorney Jerry Hill wrote in a letter sent Friday to city manager Doug Thomas.
The letter, which said the department doesn't protect citizens but puts them in danger, cites the arrest of an officer Thursday on sexual assault charges, the latest in a series of department scandals.
"It is past time for action," he wrote. "Chief Lisa Womack continues to prove she is incapable of leading the Lakeland Police Department."
In recent months, the police department has faced high-profile investigations regarding an sex scandal invovling several officers and an incident in which an officer asked a woman to shake out her bra during a traffic stop.
"The Lakeland Police Department has become a second- or even third-rate agency and an embarrassment to the citizens of Lakeland. It is broken," Hill wrote.
On Thursday, Officer Julio Pagan, 31, turned himself in after being charged with armed sexual battery by a law enforcement officer and armed aggravated stalking.
According to investigators, Pagan met the victim while responding to a call in July. Police records show Pagan then returned to the woman's home in August when she called regarding a problem with her daughter.
Hill's letter said the case was not immediately investigated properly, allowing Pagan to batter the woman again.
Pagan was to make his first appearance before a judge Friday afternoon.
"This case has revealed, yet again, a deeper problem — one of which you have been well aware and simply chose to ignore at the public's peril," Hill's letter said.
Hill also cited concerns regarding 911 dispatchers, including a case in which a citizen had to call three times to get police to respond to her finding a gun near children.
Additionally, Hill blasted the city for wasting millions of dollars to form a citizen's committee on the department and repress a grand jury presentment in what he called an attempt to "stonewall" any action against Womack.
"You and the city have decided to take a ... course that endangers citizens," Hill wrote.


text:
Not on display
- Artist
- Michael Landy born 1963
- Medium
- Photograph on paper
- Dimensions
- Image: 290 x 380 mm
- Collection
- Lent from a private collection 2000
On long term loan
- Reference
Display caption
Michael Landy's Market was an installation made by arranging typical market-stall stands, artificial grass and plastic bread-crates in a vast disused industrial space in south London. These stills are taken from a video piece called Appropriations, which was shown on three monitors around the space.
The video shows high street grocers setting up their stalls for the day, using the ubiquitous plastic crates 'borrowed' from bread manufacturers as platforms for their goods. Landy draws attention to this act of theft and re-use that has become part of an accepted daily ritual repeated throughout the world.
Gallery label, August 2004


text:
Construction on the Riverside Parkway continues to impact drivers with detours.
Beginning Monday, several Grand Valley roads will have closures. Traffic on the 5th Street Bridge, over the Colorado River, will shift to the outside lanes only in both directions. The Riverside Parkway Project will fill in the gap between the bridges over the river to add lane width.
Speed on the bridge will be reduced to 30 miles per hour. This work will continue for the next year.
Also starting on Monday, the final landscaping work will close the Las Colonias section of the Riverside Parkway, between Ninth Street and Winters Avenue. This closure will last for three weeks.
The final road closure is at 25 Road and Independent Avenue.
On Monday, SEMA Construction will be setting bridge girders in this area. Expect delays up to 30 minutes on Independent Avenue, on Monday only.


text:
- "Change of plans, Carl! We're taking the tanker!"
- ―Catalina
Tanker Commander is a mission in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas given to protagonist Carl Johnson by Catalina from the Gasso filling station in the town of Dillimore in Red County, San Andreas.
As the liquor store is confronted, Catalina points a shotgun at the two men in the store (through a window) and demands that they hand over the takings. The employee responds that the store has bullet-proof glass. Catalina decides that she and Carl can just steal a nearby tanker and its trailer. They get in the tanker, and Catalina directs Carl to a person who would buy it. However, both the store employee and the cashier, Derek, give chase. Nevertheless, Catalina and Carl safely get to the RS Haul in Flint County. The person, Mr. Whittaker, receives the tanker, and pays Carl and Catalina. Catalina leaves on a Sanchez.
Mission Objectives
In order to complete the mission the player must:
- Get into the cab
- Attach the cab to the tanker
- Get back in the cab
- Drive the rig out to Catalina's buyer. Be careful not to disconnect the trailer
The reward for this mission is $5,000. The next storyline mission that would be unlocked depends on which mission the player completed before this mission. Also, Trucking missions can now be accessed at the RS Haul in Flint County.
Tips and Tricks
- Be careful around sharp turns, as turning too suddenly can easily result in the trailer swinging around and disconnecting.
- To easily get rid of the Sabre, get out of the tanker after the cutscene ends and get between the wall and the tanker, then crouch because the car always tries to ram the tanker, so when it does so, shoot it until it catches fire. Make sure it doesn't explode near the tanker or near Catalina, as this will fail the mission.
Video Walkthroughs
- Sometimes, when failing the mission, Derek and the employee will get out of the car and walk away as normal pedestrians. They will not disappear until the player leaves the area and they are immune to being killed (confirmed on PS2).
- If Derek and the employee chase the player all the way to the RS Haul, a short cutscene shows them losing control of their Sabre and bailing out just before it crashes into the filling stations at the nearby gas station, destroying it and a nearby Sadler.
- The Tanker is bulletproof before it is attached to the cab.
- If the player kills the gas station employee, Derek will flee the scene and become a random pedestrian, although he will despawn after a few seconds.
- If Derek and the employee are killed before reaching the RS Haul, an indestructible Sadler can be obtained, as it would usually be destroyed during the cutscene where the pursuing Sabre crashes into the gas station.
- On rare occasions, a car or truck can crash into the filling stations as the player approaches it and activates the cutscene, causing the station to explode during the cutscene, thus killing Catalina, failing the mission and giving the player a two-star wanted level. It is unknown what causes this situation to happen.
- In the beta, the Trucking missions would not be unlocked after this mission, instead being unlocked after completing the mission Highjack.
- Near the beginning, when CJ and Catalina run to the truck to steal it, run towards Catalina and she'll stay where she is, and start shooting CJ. This will automatically fix itself if Carl gets in the Tanker, as usual, and attaches the trailer.
- If the player manages to enter the gas station interior and kill both employees, entering the Tanker will cause the game to crash or become a black screen.
- This is one of the several missions in the game that will not work correctly if too many cheats are activated.
- The bulletproof glass at the gas station is manufactured by Max Pane, an obvious reference to the Max Payne series made by Rockstar.
- Rarely, If the player destroys the Sabre before reaching RS Haul and the two bail out, there's a chance that the employee might keep shooting at Carl and not take damage by the player (tested on the PC version).
- The Sabre used in the mission is invulnerable to damage before the player enters the Tanker. It can be obtained by killing Catalina and stealing the Sabre by hooking it up with a Tractor or Tow Truck and driving it to a garage. Note that the Sabre cannot be stolen before being stored into a garage, as its doors are locked. It is also very heavy, making it unable to be moved by the player or a vehicle.


text:
Burning rubber, that's how humans smell, like the odour that hangs in the air after a car has just skidded to a halt.
I try to breathe through my mouth but a cough catches at the back of my throat.
"That's nasty," says the man. "Hope it's not catching."
I keep my hand clamped over my mouth until the fit subsides. I remove it and, careful to touch nothing else, bury it deep inside my pocket.
"I said: hope it's not catching." The man looks at me askance. He's not kidding. We live in troubled times. Danger these days can take many forms. He'll have seen the headlines, heard the radio. He'll be thinking: you never know quite who, or what, you might pick up these days.
"Nah," I say. "Just the arse-end of a cold, nothing to worry about. But do you mind if I open the window?"
"What? I smell or something?"
Nothing personal, mate, you all do. Despite your Polo aftershave, your Lynx effect, or maybe because of it, people always have that burning rubber smell to me. In truth, it's not just rubber, but that's a convenient catch-all for the jumble of perfumes and polymers, synthetic fibres and accumulated soot, which remind me your typical self-styled human is maybe not so human after all.
"Sorry," I say. "Just a bit stuffy."
"Go on then."
As I'm reaching for the handle, the man says, "What happened to your wrist?"
I, too, notice the red rim beyond my sleeve. "Oh," I say, thinking quickly. "Painting a mate's house."
The man is about to say something else when the rain surges against the windscreen. We brake in a blur of rear lights, slow to a halt.
I breathe in the cool air. The man pulls out his phone, sends a message.
At least it looks like he's lost interest in me, which is a relief. What was it Magda said? "For a moment, I thought I might have to kill you."
I can't help but smile.
The rain rushes against the side of the truck, leaks in through the window. The man gestures for me to wind it back up again.
"Sorry, mate," he says. "You'll have to put up with my stink."
But I know it's not just in my interest. If you knew what I was, you'd want the window wide open, come rain or shine. The pair of us would sit here drenched, if you knew the odds. Not that you'd have picked me up in the first place. Friend—you would have, you should have, speeded up. Called the cops, alerted the military. They'd have had their helicopter gunships out in no time, bearing down on me, all guns blazing, chewing up the pavement as I fled from the forces of righteousness.
Because you never know who, or what, you might pick up these days.
Be aware then, be warned. This is how it begins: the signs, the symptoms.
Lying there like a wounded thing. Wheezing, fevered, shivery. I was thick with phlegm, my legs lead-heavy. Laid out, bowled over, I was a sick, sick, sick boy.
But of course, it could have been anything.
"Put it there," said Summer. "Not there, there." She had on her best Funk Me boob tube, low-slung jeans. She'd raided her mum's makeup drawer again, with the opposite effect than intended: she looked about ten years old, although she was pushing thirteen.
"Drink this." She lifted the warm mixture to my lips. It burned the roof of my mouth.
"What," I gasped, "is that?"
"Honey, brandy, water," said one of the wee ones.
"Pepper," said another.
"Curry powder," added a third.
"It was in one of those Ayurvedic books," said Summer. "You know, from India." She shrugged. "Maybe I got the amounts wrong. Anyway, it said you're to have plenty of liquid. And eat. Here, we made you boiled eggs."
"With soldiers," added a weenie. They lifted the tray onto my lap and looked at me expectantly.
"Just . . . leave it here, okay. I'm not too hungry right now."
"But the book said . . . "
"Liquid . . . is good. But some water, okay? Now I need to sleep."
"You need some peace and quiet," said Summer. She began to usher the others out. Just before she disappeared, she turned back to me. "I'll make sure they don't bother you." I nodded, closed my eyes.
A glass was being laid beside my bed but I pretended to still be asleep. The rustle of the beanbag, the hiss as someone sat down.
"Vereesh," she said. Not Summer. Ma.
She leant forward with grim-faced intent, the laughing eyes I'd become so accustomed to back to their hard slate-grey.
"They said they found you in the dip," she said. "How on earth did you end up there?"
And I, too, despite that great stretch of time, was back to where we began. "Don't know," I said. This was no time for evasions, appeals for sympathy.
"Unconscious, they said. Had to carry you back. You can't remember how you ended up there?" I shook my head. She looked exasperated. "Well what's the last you can remember?" Her American accent pierced the BBC English she had perfected over the years.
"I'd been down the town," I said. "Getting my stuff together. Got the bus back. I remember . . . " I was straining now. "Taking the bags back into the room." We both looked—there they still were, resting against my half-packed rucksack. "And then . . . " I shook my head.
"And were you feeling poorly before that?"
I shook my head.
"Did . . . " I noticed her bottom lip had a wee tremble. "Did anyone give you anything, Vereesh? To eat? To drink?"
I shook my head.
"Not the night before? This week? Come on, honey, someone must have stood you a pint down the Ku on Thursday."
"Ma . . . "
"Do you have stomach cramps?"
I shook my head.
"There's been no blood when you go to the toilet? Palpitations? What are your symptoms?"
I explained.
"Sounds like some kind of . . . flu to me."
"Maybe it is."
"Vereesh, you've never been sick."
"I've had colds."
"No, you have not," she said. "Not even when you were a baby. All that time we were in India, not so much as nappy rash. It actually began to worry me; I took you to a doctor. He looked at me like I was mad." Her expression began to soften. "Maybe it's a sign—now you're going away. My little toad is all grown up."
"If you need me you'll call?"
"Yes, Ma."
"And you'll remember our code?"
"I know, I know. I'm just a crazy old bird . . . " She smiled, leaned over, laid the back of her hand against my fevered brow.
"Hot," she said. "Hot!"
I caught the coach from Sunderland Central.
Ma was there. Even Clive had made it.
"You're sure you're better," said Ma.
"I'm sure," I said.
The driver opened the trunk. I handed him my rucksack. "Take care," said Ma. "Keep safe."
"It's only London, Ma," I said, "not the Middle East."
"Big city though, big man," said Clive. "Watch yourself."
"Here," said Ma. She pressed something into my hand. The Swami, with his white bushy beard, his brown face grinning like he'd eaten all the pies, stared sublimely up at me amidst a nest of beads. She had given me her mala.
"Ma. I can't take this."
"I know you've . . . moved on," she said, "but I thought now you were going away it would be good for you to have something familiar, from home . . ."
"Please, Vereesh . . ." She smiled. "Sorry, I mean Matt."
The bus started up. "I'd better get going."
"Go on then," she said. She closed my hand around the mala. She gave me a big, long hug. "Write," she said.
"I'll e-mail."
The coach whisked along the A1. The statue of The Angel of the North, grand and lonely on its hill by the motorway, loomed above us as red as fire, as red as rust.
I pulled out the mala, made the Swami spin between my fingers.
"What's that?" asked the girl across the aisle. She was from the estates—tracksuit bottoms and boob tube. Hair pulled back and—a flash of stainless steel between her lips—tongue stud.
"A mala," I said.
"A what?"
I knew better than to explain. "Just a lucky charm," I said.
"What do you want one of those for?"
"My mum gave it to me," I said. "I'm off to university."
"What you studying?"
I hesitated. "Theology."
She snorted. "What you want to bother with that for? Are you a priest or something?"
"No," I said, "I'm just interested is all. About the way humans have tried to make sense of stuff. But it's almost the opposite of philosophy, which reduces everything to a kind of . . . nothingness. Religion . . . reaches for the stars, if you like."
The girl seemed unimpressed. "If you're not going to be a priest, then how are you going to get a job?"
I shrugged. I'd never really thought about that.
"I got into the Royal Free," she said.
"Royal Free?"
"Aye." She looked at me like I was thick. "The teaching hospital. Trainee nurse. They pay your fees and lodging and you get five grand a year." She put on her headphones and picked up a copy of Glamour.
I turned around for a last look at the Angel but it was long gone.
LOST in London.
I'd reeled from the bus station, senses blaring, and by the time I'd got myself together again I had utterly no idea where I was or how I'd got there.
Rucksack heaving, I strode along the mansion streets, trying to look like I knew where I was going, put off from asking by the fuck-off expressions of the passers-by. I kept fiddling with my phone, but the message was still the same: there would be no Google Maps unless I could find a hotspot. My meagre data allowance was already used up.
"Big city, big man," Clive had said. And now here I was, lost in its heart. Lost in its guts.
A main road, a high brick wall. Then: black railings, soldiers in red. I finally twigged, a gleeful grin smeared across my face. I sneezed.
"Bless you."
"Ta." I wiped my sticky hand down the side of my jeans.
"Where are you from, son?"
"Sunderland." That wasn't the whole truth, but I guessed he would never have heard of Hebdon-Le-Hole.
"Sun Der Land. Is that near Scot Land?"
"Aye," I said. After all, he wasn't far off. "It's about seventy miles south of the Scottish border."
The man looked relieved. "And you've just arrived?" He nodded towards my rucksack.
"Yeah," I said.
"And you thought you'd check out the sights? We've been here since Saturday and can't get enough of them. This is our second trip to your palace."
"Aye," I said. "Well, actually . . . " I felt my cheeks begin to burn. "No. To tell the truth, I'm lost."
An explanation. A consultation. A Texan tourist with a functioning smartphone.
"Good luck, son." His generous smile. His firm handshake. "God bless."
I was back on course.
I threw my rucksack on my bed. My room wasn't much—I stretched my arms out and they could almost touch both walls—but at least it was all mine. Enough with sharing: for the first time since I was a nipper, I had a proper place to myself.
With a view, too. I looked down at the crowd gathered around the bus stop, in all their colours and cultures. Back home, me and the other residents of the commune, or "fucking hippies" to the locals, were about as colourful as it got. Not that anyone other than a local would ever have called me a hippy—I'd long since had my hair shorn to a close buzz, got into the skater thing—but I was a bit of a stoner, mind.
I took out my baccy, rolled myself a joint. Thin and tight—I didn't know where my next stash would come from.
The cough caught on the first drag. It started light, a little stutter I couldn't clear. I chanced another pull at the joint but now it came back tenfold, a real wheezing cough that bent me like a reed. I had to hang onto the desk as it shook through me, and when it had subsided that all too familiar hot-cold feverish feeling lingered.
So I wasn't entirely better then, but I'd known this when I'd insisted that I was. After all, I wasn't going to miss the start of uni, was I?
I sat down on the mattress and rested the joint on the windowsill. Dug down to the bottom of the bag and pulled out the mala, let the Swami swing pendulum-like between my fingers.
There was a knock at the door.
Shit. I looked around for somewhere to hide the joint. In a moment of madness, I thought about flicking it out of the window but instead pinched its smouldering tip and shoved it into the desk drawer. I stuffed the mala back into my bag and waved the smoke away.
"Aye?" No answer. I ushered the last blue-grey wisps outside and opened the door. A man stood there, smiling.
"I am sorry to interrupt you, but I saw you arrive," he said. "I am your neighbour, Daniel."
Daniel had just arrived from Ghana. If I thought I'd had it tough navigating the big city for the first time, Daniel's phlegmatic account humbled me. The poor lad had never used escalators before, let alone rode on the Underground, yet he seemed remarkably unperturbed.
"Yah." He grinned. "I must admit I waited a little bit to see how it was done, and when I finally stepped onto the stairs I held on tight. But then this man pushed me. I was standing on the wrong side! This city will take some getting used to . . . "
"You're not wrong there," I said. "How about escaping this madhouse, going for a pint?"
"A pint?"
"Of beer, man, lager."
He laughed, nodding vigorously. "Sounds like an excellent idea."
I may have had my own room, but even back home it was quieter—we kids had the barn to ourselves and curtained-off partitions gave us older ones a bit of privacy. Of course, they didn't block out all the sound, but having grown up together, and having had to watch out for each other a fair amount too, I suppose we all appreciated keeping it pretty chilled.
Not so my new housemates. For a lot of them it was their first time away from mum and dad and they went for it big time. So it was with a wee bit of a jaded eye I viewed the high jinks of those early days, though I was careful not to appear too cynical or too much of an arse.
Daniel, on the other hand, was not up to speed on his group psychology. Or maybe he just preferred the quiet life.
I'd encounter a bloodshot Ghanaian in the common room the next morning.
"I hardly got a moment's sleep," he'd say. "How can they stay up so late? Don't they have lectures to go to?"
I'd sympathise, say it would cool down sooner or later, although to be honest I didn't mind that much. Truth was, I had my own little thing going.
We'd clocked each other by our tribal markings (well, t-shirts) and an appreciation of the weed, begun to venture out together, take in some gigs, check out the skating action along the South Bank. Stay up in my room until all hours smoking and talking shit.
"And this guy, he wakes up and, like, he's changed into this giant kinda bug," said Gray, short for Graham.
"Sheeet," said Cal, a Canadian. "That must have been some kind of trip!"
"No," said Gray earnestly. "It was before they'd discovered acid. It's from the 1920s, by some Russian."
"Czech," said Jane, who was doing lit. "Franz Kafka. The Metamorphosis. Jew, died in a concentration camp." She screwed up her nose. "Or was that Freud?"
"Ain't there that other book, about bug drug people?" said Cal. "The Naked Lunch, Burroughs. Now that was about acid, but in the Fifties. Made into a film. Fucking weird man. There was some English guy too, back in the old days. Some writer—loved the stuff so much he took it when he was dying."
"We should get some," said Jane. "Do you think you could get some, Vereesh?"
I took a toke, shrugged. My sannyas name still sounded funny in her posh accent. Funny she was using it at all, in fact. But there it was on my certificates, registration forms, hall register, and although I'd introduced myself to my new friends as "Matt", as soon as Jane saw it she took to using it because "Matt's so boring; I know loads of Matts but only one Vereesh".
I kind of resented her assumption that I was the obvious one to score the acid though.
A door slammed in the corridor. There was shouting.
" . . . cannot stand this any longer . . . like children . . . "
"Sounds like your mate," said Gray.
Through the thin partition we could hear squeals of protest from the clubby chicks, gruff monosyllables from the lads. Daniel had picked a bad night—Thursday. No one went in on Friday mornings, except would-be accountants from developing countries like Daniel.
There was a crash and the tinny dance beat we had grown accustomed to stopped. I winced. Now the shouting was coming from both sides. There was a thud, the scrape of furniture, then silence.
Bugger. I began to pull myself up, half hoping that the others would do the same, but no such luck—they stayed slumped, avoiding my gaze.
I opened the door.
After the initial commotion, everything now seemed eerily subdued. The only light was coming from the kitchen at the end of the corridor, where I could hear muffled, panicked whispers. I approached it with some difficulty, bouncing off one wall then another, stoned out of my socks. Was I actually wearing socks? I looked down.
This was not good, not good at all. I was definitely in no state to mediate between my fired-up friend and coke-fuelled clubbers.
But then I was at the doorway. I blinked in the glare, the strip lights bleaching the scene like a budget horror. There were the girls—paper white, charcoal eyed, lipstick-smeared, all clubbed out. The boys were standing behind them, pumped up, their shirts still clinging with sweat.
Daniel was on the floor, propped against the fridge, his head bent back, a hand covering his nose. Bloody spots splattered his white t-shirt. I crouched beside him.
"Danny," I said, "are you alright?" He opened his eyes, looked blankly back. He didn't seem to recognise me. "Where does it hurt?" He took his hand away from his nose, a bloody mess. It was then I felt the dampness through my jeans and looked down. I was kneeling in a raspberry red pool.
"Jesus," I said, "this doesn't look good. We ought to get you to casualty."
"He started it," one of the girls piped up. I looked at the group again. They seemed sobered by the violence, or at least afraid of getting in the shit.
I went over to the sink and grabbed a couple of towels from the dispenser. I handed them to Daniel. He dabbed listlessly at his face.
"Does anything feel broken?" He gave me that blank look again. "Maybe you're concussed," I said. "How does your head feel? I'd better call an ambulance."
"No," said one of the girls. "What I mean is, he only hit him on the nose, once, didn't he? Then he sat down, didn't you? He's alright, aren't you … ?" She didn't know his name. "You're alright, aren't you?"
"Daniel?" He looked me in the eye for the first time. Covering his nose with the towels, he began to get up. The boys and girls drew back. But Daniel was no danger to them. He was no danger to anybody. He rose, surprisingly steadily, and made for his room. It was only as he reached out for the door knob I noticed his hand was trembling.
"You're sure you're alright?"
But he didn't seem to hear. He went inside and closed the door behind him.
The night made a mirror of the carriage window. The creaking first-class cabin, the comings and goings of the char wallahs, the sweetmeat salesmen, bewhiskered ticket collectors—they all played their part in our drama. The fat businessman, his well-fed wife and their chubby offspring who pressed me into the corner and no amount of elbowing would shift; the straight-backed Sikh army officer who acted out heroic deeds in my imaginings; the American missionaries who unsettled Ma the most with their friendly inquisition.
"You're from the West Coast?"
"California," said Ma. "San Bernardino, originally."
"And you've been in the country long?"
"A few . . . weeks."
I frowned. I thought it had been longer than that, but then, maybe not—I wasn't so good with time. Christmas still seemed months away, that much I knew, even though we were already in December.
"It's a glorious land, isn't it, so full of colour," said the nice white-haired lady. "Are you hungry? We brought some fruit."
I held out both hands.
"How old are you, son?" asked the nice white-haired gentleman.
"Four and three quarters," I said.
"Well, let's cut this apple into four slices—it's alright, isn't it, ma'am?" Ma gave a strained smile. "One for every year . . . how about you, Tonto?"
I giggled.
"I'm not Tonto, I'm Matthew."
"Matthew. That's a nice name. Do you know who Matthew was?"
"Yes, you, but Matthew was a disciple of Jesus. Do you know who Jesus is?"
"The Swami?"
"The Swami? Who's the Swami?"
"Matthew, honey," said Ma, getting up, "it's time to go."
"To the bathroom, honey, come on, take my hand."
"But I don't want to go."
"You need to wash your hands before you eat, remember what I've been teaching you? Off we trot."
She led me along the corridor and into the bathroom. First class or not, it smelt of poo. She took my hands and washed them in the warm, rust-coloured water, crouched down and wiped them on a fluffy white towel. Stopped. Held my hands hard. Hard like her face.
"Remember what I said, Matthew?"
I looked for clues in her expression. All I knew was it scared me.
"No . . . "
"Remember the special thing we talked about?"
"Ma, you're hurting . . . " But she didn't let off.
"Remember what I told you, Matthew. It's very important. About talking to strangers, about talking about the Swami. We don't do that, do we, remember?"
"No, Ma." I began to cry. "No. Please, it hurts."
"What do you remember?"
"Ma . . . not to talk. Not to talk about the Swami."
"You'll remember now? And not say to people? Like those in the carriage?"
"Yes, Ma."
She let go and pulled me to her. "Come here, little toad, come here." I was back against the softness of her breast, safe in the forest of her hair. "I'm sorry, little toad, I'm so sorry. But you've got to remember . . . "
I pulled the sheets back, gasping. I was lying there in the dark, slick with sweat, my heart racing. I fumbled for the bedside lamp, found the switch, pushed back the night.
I propped myself up, gulped down some tepid water. Christ.
I waited for my breathing to slow, for the reality of my gloomy cubicle to overwhelm the images imprinted upon my retinas. Slowly they faded; the solid, temporal dimension asserted itself. The past had passed. I was back in London, England, in the here, the now. The Rizla papers and spilt tobacco on my desk. My jeans hanging over the back of the chair, their knees dark with Daniel's blood.
I wheeled my feet off the bed and onto firm ground. Rose unsteadily, testing the heat of my forehead with the back of my hand. Burning. I was burning up. Oh Christ.
The sheets were soaked right through.
Suddenly all my strength seemed to leave me. I sank to my knees, held on to the edge of the bed to keep myself from succumbing to unconsciousness.
Tried to keep my eyes open.
I concentrated on the sheets, glistening now, I noticed. Rivulets were beginning to run between the creases—rippling, they were. I leaned closer, watched the water run, the beautiful swirling, snake-like shapes it made.
My solid twenty-first century world didn't seem so solid after all. I lurched upright, but the world was still wobbling.
This was not good.
"Is it drugs?"
"Dunno. Mate?"
I was being rocked. Harder. I opened my eyes.
"He's awake. What's your name?"
"Matt. Vereesh. Can't say."
"He doesn't know his name," said the woman cop.
"You alright, mate?" said the man. "You with us? In the land of the living?" Lights. Blue, white. I realised now: a police car.
"Aye," I said. "Sorry."
"What happened?" asked the man. "Do you know where you are, Matt?"
"Where I am?" I looked around. The toughened glass, the mobile phone ad. The red plastic bench. "A bus stop," I said. "I'm at a bus stop."
"And where do you think you're going?" asked the cop, a smile beginning to play at the corners of his mouth.
"Where?" I was trying not to go anywhere, concentrating on clinging on. Staying conscious was enough for me.
"Cos I don't think you want to be going anywhere, dressed like that, Matt, do you?"
I looked down. I was naked except for my boxer shorts. "I'm cold," I said.
"I'm not surprised," said the cop. "Where do you live?"
I looked around. Realised. "There," I said. I pointed across the road.
They were alright, the police. They walked me back to the reception, saw me into the lift. I went back to my cubicle, sat on the end of the bed, shivering. I wrapped the duvet around myself, but it wouldn't seem to stop. I slumped into the corner of the room. My teeth, now . . . I tried to stop them . . . My teeth were rattling as if I was hooked up to the mains, but I knew, I knew, I knew this was not electricity.
Just try. To hang on.
Awake. My first reaction: relief. I was still there, in the corner of the cubicle, lying on my side. The shaking had subsided. I checked my temperature. I seemed to have cooled down.
I remembered the fever, the dreams, the double-bluff . . . what was real? Unreal? The bus stop came back to me with a shock. Surely that was just a dream?
I eased myself off the floor, pressed my palms to the bed. Well, that much at least was true—it was definitely damp. I examined the soles of my feet. They were black, pocked with grit.
I went to the window, pulled up the blind. It was still dark, but London rumbled on. A bus drew up at the empty stop, a dark figure stumbled out. Cars, cabs, motorbikes weaved around each other. An ambulance zoomed by, its siren muted but blue lights flashing.
And beyond all this, there I was, staring back out of the darkness.
I was lying on the hard, scratchy carpet, the duvet covering me like a corpse, when I heard Daniel leave for college.
I tried to get back to sleep, but it was no good. I crawled out from beneath the duvet and surveyed the crumpled scene. Memories of the long, lonely night came back to me, unsettling and unreal in the morning light. I tested the bed: drier, but there were still traces of damp. And the dirt on my soles.
"We'll call it sleepwalking, shall we?" The policeman's wry smile as we sat in the backseat of the squad car, the woman writing out the report.
"Poor love, first time away from home?" She handed it to me to sign. "You just take it easy, alright?"
And there was the receipt, crumpled on the desk. I shuddered. First the dip. They found me, they said, nestled half naked in the woods, wreathed with leaves. Now this. I fought a flare of panic.
I couldn't be having this, I thought, I just couldn't. London wasn't like home, surrounded by acres of woodland. There was fucking traffic here. I could get killed.
Cool, I thought, just be cool. Alright, so it was a bit fucking weird but . . . look: maybe it was just the weed. Some dodgy super skunk or whatnot. In any case, it wasn't so bad this time. I mean, I wasn't all sick and fluey, knackered like before, laid low. I was just a wee bit . . . light-headed, euphoric even, in a weird kind of way. Actually, BURSTING with energy.
Fuck it. So I probably just overdid the whacky. And even if this flu, this bug, this psycho-flu-bug wasn't properly out of my system just yet, it was certainly on the way. I would be alright.
I coughed, cleared my throat. "Fuck it," I said out loud. "Let's clean this place up, get a bit of order." I jerked myself upright, got onto my feet, but had to sit back down again as the world spun around me. I waited until it had stopped and took some deep breaths before trying again, this time taking it more slowly.
That was better. I opened the window, stripped the sheets. When the room was back in shape, I took a long shower.
Stepping out, I felt fine. Better than fine: great. I could feel the energy surge through me. Heavens, I thought, I might even go to uni.


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Attorney General's Firearms Agents Seize Illegal Assault Rifles And Explosive Materials In Riverside County
(RIVERSIDE) – Attorney General Bill Lockyer today announced that his California Armed and Prohibited Program's Inland Empire Task Force (IETF) served two separate search warrants this week resulting in three arrests as well as the seizure of four unregistered assault rifles and explosive materials.
On Thursday, July 7, 2005, the IETF served a search warrant for the possession of an unregistered assault weapon in the 1200 block of Massachusetts Avenue in the City of Beaumont. As a result of the search Task Force Agents discovered and seized two unregistered assault rifles, approximately 150 pounds of unlawful explosive items, and a police baton. The suspect, Ronald Hemd, 29-years-old, was arrested and booked at the Robert Presley Detention Center for possession of unregistered assault weapons, possession of dangerous explosives, and possession of an illegal weapon. The Beaumont Police Department and Riverside County Sheriff's Hazardous Devices Team assisted IETF on this investigation.
On Wednesday, July 6, 2005, the IETF, acting on information from the inspection of a licensed firearms dealer, conducted a probation search of a suspect for the unlawful possession of an unregistered assault weapon in the 1000 block of Huntington Way in the City of Perris. Task Force Agents seized two unregistered assault rifles, ammunition, suspected destructive devices, and other illegal weapons. The suspect, Jimmy Leyba, 21-years-old, was on probation and prohibited from possessing firearms or dangerous weapons. He was arrested and booked at the Robert Presley Detention Center for unlawful possession of firearms, possession of unregistered assault weapons and possession of illegal weapons. Also arrested at the residence was Anthony Leyba, Jr., 43-years-old, who had a felony warrant for violation of parole.
Established in July 2002, the Attorney General's California Armed Prohibited Program (CAPP) was created to remove firearms from individuals who purchase or possess them in violation of state law. The California Armed Prohibited Program Inland Empire Task Force was established in March 2003, and is composed of state and local law enforcement agencies. In 2004, the CAPP-Inland Empire Task Force made 48 felony arrests and seized over 400 weapons from prohibited persons.
California law prohibits convicted felons, violent offenders, the mentally ill, persons with restraining orders and other specified individuals from possessing a gun. However, there are many criminals who use alternative, and illegal, means to get their hands on guns. In light of these activities the California Armed Prohibited Program was created to help crackdown on illegal possession and distribution of weapons.


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After 17-year-old Carson Fraley got his license this summer, he took a trip to Portland and stopped at Voodoo Doughnut for a celebratory treat.
But Carson didn't drive there.
Instead, he flew.
"It was probably the most expensive doughnut trip ever," Carson, a senior at Cascades Academy of Central Oregon, said.
It's quite likely that Carson is the youngest helicopter pilot in Bend. Carson has been flying since the age of 14 and has logged over 150 hours of airtime, and 300 hours of ground time. In July, he passed his private helicopter pilot certification test, meaning he can fly on his own and with passengers.
Carson was inspired to learn to fly by both of his grandfathers, who were pilots in the Korean War, along with his dad, who is a pilot and runs Leading Edge Aviation. Growing up, Carson often accompanied his dad on flights and caught the flying bug early.
"It's hard to explain, because people who don't do it, don't get it," Carson said. "But when you're alone up there, it's freeing. You don't have anything you have to think about but flying. It's relaxing."
But it wasn't always that way for Carson. When he first took over the controls on a flight at the young age of 14, he was terrified.
"We were flying over Pilot Butte, and I was pretty sure that I was going to crash it," Carson said. "But I eased into it and I got a hold."
After flying every day after school for several years, Carson felt ready to take his private helicopter certification test this past summer.
"It does take a lot of dedication to get it (helicopter certification)," said Jordan Kuhnmuench, Carson's flight instructor. "You have to be dedicated and really want it, because it's not based on common knowledge. If you slack off and don't study, you're not going to get it."
Carson passed, and though he hasn't had much time to take any big trips outside of going to Portland, he wants to take a trip to the coast soon.
Part of the reason Carson hasn't had much time for trips is because he's been busy with school. He's also been studying for his driver's license, which he only just obtained three weeks ago.
Carson could legally fly before he even knew how to drive, and he said he barely passed his driver's test.
"I think it's scarier to drive," Carson said. "When you fly, you usually can't hit anything, and you don't have other drivers to worry about."
While Carson loves flying, he doesn't want to become a professional pilot. His interests lie in a completely different direction. Carson loves art and has been painting since he was in elementary school. He's particularly interested in stencil and graffiti art, and is a counselor at the Young Musicians & Artists camp in Portland during the summer.
"I think I'll always have flying to fall back on and be able to support myself with it," Carson said. "But I've never wanted to give up on art."
Carson said he isn't afraid to be controversial with his art. At the Young Musicians & Artists camp, he completed a painting that contained religious elements that could be interpreted by some as offensive. But Carson said he was using religious imagery to make a statement about the way art schools view religion.
"I was commenting on the fact that Christianity and religion is looked down on in some art schools," Carson said.
Carson, whose older sister attends art school, plans to follow in her footsteps. He plans to apply to Chapman University's Dodge College in California, along with the Pacific Northwest College of Art.
Meanwhile, he intends to continue logging more solo hours up in the helicopter for the rest of his senior year.
"I don't think flying is something I want to do as a career," Carson said. "But if I end up going into it, it definitely wouldn't be a bad thing."
— Reporter; 541-383-0354, firstname.lastname@example.com


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Woofstock Dog Festival
Saturday, June 1, 2013
South Jefferson Street
Downtown Roanoke
In front of the Main Library
Tickets = $5
Cash Only at the gate
(kids 12 and under and dogs are free!)
This family friendly event invites everyone including your dog to enjoy live music, great food, contests and games! Local animal rescues partner with Sponsor Hounds to promote animal adoption and fostering in our community.
Looking for ways to help our local animal rescues? Sponsor Hounds is collecting needed items for the animal rescues involved in the event.
Please visit the website for additional information www.WoofstockDogFestival.com


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Second Chances
Life in Forks Washington is about to change forever. Two warriors who have lost their world to a great evil are being sent to the Cullen's to protect them and most importantly Bella Swan. Spike does Not stay dead! Crossover with Btvs. Post NFA, Spoilers for Eclipse and possibly Breaking Dawn.
1. The End
Rating 0.5/5 Word Count 1199 Review this Chapter
Chapter 1
To say that she was furious would have been the understatement of the year. Buffy stood at the edge of Los Angeles city limits in a state of horror. From her vantage point she could see the whole city; the chaos and carnage was devastating. She could spot at least fifteen different and huge portals from where she stood. There were hundreds of thousands of demons emptying into the streets of L.A. The people didn't stand a chance.
All these years, all this sacrifice, and for what, to die in an apocalypse that's not supposed to happen for another five years? How could Angel have been so stupid? What was he thinking? How could he not have called me, for Christ's sake? They were all lucky the seers saw this beginning or they would have been completely too late.
Buffy had read the prophecies and already knew when the Wolfram and Hart armies were supposed to rise. She even knew what they needed to stop it, but it was too late. H.Q hadn't pinpointed the location of the urn yet because they all thought they had time. Now, Buffy stood watching as hell poured out into the streets, and knew that they were all going to die.
The roar of the creatures and the crackling of the portals was thunderous. Buffy almost missed hearing Willow speaking to her over the headset. "Willow? Say again."
"I said, we just got confirmation that there are portals opening in Moscow, London, Paris, Roma, and about half the major cities in the U.S. and there are some pretty powerful mages trying to bring down my barrier spell, as we speak." She paused, "I don't think we can win this Buffy."
"I know, it's complete suicide." Buffy paused before continuing with her instructions, "Get on the horn and tell Faith to pull back, we need to gather as many people as we can and get them in to hiding. Then find out where Angel and his team are and how many are left. I'll go in for the extraction."
If it had been a year ago, Willow might have objected to Buffy going into such a dangerous situation by herself. Things were different now, ever since Spike died, she had done nothing but throw herself into dangerous situations. It was like a part of Buffy had died that day too. She never talked about it, but Willow thought with a resigned sigh, she rarely talks about anything other than slayage stuff anymore.
"Looks like Angel and his team are on the south side of the Hyperion." She paused "I see Angel, some demon girl, and oh my god" Willow breathed," Buffy it's Spike." Willow said the last word almost too low for Buffy to hear.
"What? How?" Buffy yelled into the microphone, her head was swimming She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"I don't know, but he's there." Willow replied
"Where are you?" Buffy asked
"We're right outside the city. The helicopter should be at the extraction point in ten minutes."
Buffy griped her scythe hard and gritted her teeth, preparing to make the jump off the overpass she was standing on. "Open a door, Willow."
There was a crackling and an area of the bluish hazy barrier lifted right in front of her. Buffy was off and running in a flash. Running faster than she ever had, soaring over roof tops, until she heard the familiar sounds of battle. The closer she got, the faster she ran and then she heard it, a laugh she would have known anywhere. She slid to a halt and fell to her knees. Buffy couldn't breathe. It was him. For the first time in a year, she felt whole again. It took her a second to realize that tears where streaming down her face and that she was trembling. The sound of the joyous cackling was the most beautiful sound that she had ever heard.
She didn't want to move, afraid that she would break the spell, afraid that if she stood and looked down it would all be a mirage. But then the familiar sound of a helicopter tore into her reverie and she remembered why she was here in the first place. Buffy stood at the edge of the building, closed her eyes, took a calming breath, and took a flying leap off the side. She landed right in the middle of a bunch of Groxlar demons and exterminated them rather easily with her scythe. She turned, noticing that she was about ten feet from Angel and that he still hadn't noticed her yet. So, in true slayer fashion, she walked up behind him and hit him as hard as she could, knocking him unconscious. Buffy really didn't have time to argue with a very egotistical Angel, who would probably have the nerve to tell her to get out of his city even as it fell apart before his very eyes. She then told the demon girl to watch Angel and that she was getting them out of here. Illyria looked at her with her cold unfeeling eyes and nodded.
"Where's Spike?" Buffy asked.
Illyria pointed to the other side of the ally and Buffy saw a streak of bleached hair attacking a Fyarl demon with a battle axe. She grinned as the demon lost its head.
"Spike!" Buffy called over the deafening noises as she began to run towards him. She knew that he had heard her because he froze and began to slowly turn around. At the moment their eyes locked, an inhuman screech filled the air.
Buffy turned and watched in shock as a huge dragon swooped down and blew a river of fire across the ally. Its huge tail slammed into the back of the helicopter just as the life lines were being dropped. The helicopter spun like a top before crashing in a fiery ball on top of Angel and the demon girl. The dragon then blew another wave of fire over the ally and Buffy could only watch in horror as Spike turned to dust before her very eyes.
A scream of rage and anguish tore through her throat and tears began to gush in a river down her face. She didn't even realize she was moving until she had launched herself onto the dragons back. She used the scythe for leverage as the dragon flew high into the air and climbed until she reached the spot where the dragon's head connected to its shoulders. There, she brought the scythe down in an arch, right into the dragon's neck.
As Buffy felt herself begin to fall she could only think of how Spike's blue eyes looked right before he died and how much she had failed everyone. It was the end. And those gorgeous blue eyes where a haunting reminder of her failure. If she had only acted quicker, only done something better they both might still be alive. It was the last thought to pass through her head before everything went black.
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Time for a Coffee Break!
Your children will love playing in this spacious Le Cafe Play House. The cafe can easily fit eight kids with lots of playroom to spare! Some will pretend to sell the food, and the others will simply enjoy the great service they're getting! (Like real grown-ups!) The cafe features a stripped awning and roll out window. The front entrance has a swinging door with a roll up window. It looks just like the real thing!
Shock corded PVC poles make for easy set up and storage.


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By Danielle Killey
A Minnesota Senate committee voted 5-3 today to move forward with a bill that would legalize same-sex marriage in Minnesota.
"This is about family," bill author Sen. Scott Dibble, DFL-Minneapolis, said. "We are not redefining anything."
The Judiciary Committee sent the bill to the full Senate, though Democratic leadership has said setting the state budget will come before addressing policy issues such as gay marriage.
Opponents said lawmakers should not be dealing with such issues.
"We want to treat everyone with love and respect," Sen. Dan Hall, R-Burnsville, said. "We can do that without redefining marriage."
A state House committee is expected to vote on a similar proposal tonight after beginning to hear public testimony earlier today.
Some supporters said the vote last fall defeating a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage was a sign that Minnesotans want to change state law and legalize it. Gay marriage opponents said that vote could have meant Minnesotans did not want the provision in the Constitution but might still oppose same-sex marriage.
The bill exempts religious organizations from performing same-sex marriage ceremonies if they have objections, but some said that protection is not enough.


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Critical Reflection: Kamil Vojnar's 'Elsewhere'
His are perhaps the most intriguingly unresolvable images I've ever encountered.
Kamil Vojnar, Acrobat (Prague Version), mixed media on canvas, 36" x 24", 2013
"I photograph your face. I move your arm. And I don't know why. I print my pictures, I cut them, glue, paint, scratch, glue again, paint again. I don't know why. Something is pressing me on. It must be done! I don't know why!"
–Kamil Vojnar
Socrates supposedly said something to the ffect that the only true wisdom consists of knowing that you know nothing. Of course, since Socrates himself never wrote anything down we don't really know what he said, though Plato does quote lines with a similar gist in the Apology, his record of Socrates' defense against charges of corrupting youth and failing to believe in the same gods as his fellow Athenians. While his trial ended in a sentence of exile from Athens, Socrates trumped his accusers by subsequently choosing suicide, self-imposed exile from life itself, via hemlock, rather than any forced departure from his home. Or so we are told.
The Taoist philosopher Lao Tzu writes poetically, in the Tao Te Ching, "To darken the darkness, that is the gate of all wonder." This is interpreted as an admonition to wander deeper into the unknown and unknowable as the truest source of awe; in other words, to prize above all the mystery of existence as the true, infinite basis for being.
The Romantic poet Keats spoke positively of what he called "negative capability," or the ability of the sage and artist to accept the fundamental unknowability of reality, at a time when the European neo-classical thinkers, having derived the principles of modern science from Aristotle and his predecessor Thales, thought and sought (foolishly) to categorize, classify, and elucidate in total every knowable aspect of experience and reality. It didn't take long, however, before Werner Heisenberg, the German theoretical physicist, introduced his uncertainty principle—essentially that the observer affects the experiment in ways that make objectivity impossible. This concept in combination with Swiss physicist Fritz Zwicky's widely accepted theories that about ninety- seven percent of the universe is made up of substances and energies that are nearly imperceptible to humans and of utterly unknown constitution, led modern physics to the brink of mysticism, where it currently still resides.
So, when Czech photographer Kamil Vojnar writes in response to his receiving the Jacob Riis Award for photography that he hasn't got a clue as to why he is compelled to construct his especially mysterious images, he's in excellent company. His are perhaps the most intriguingly unresolvable images I've ever encountered. They are by turns haunting, neurotic, erotic, deeply disturbing, and stunningly, tragically beautiful. While the subject matter broadly defies any fixed interpretations, there are some recurring elements. In general, Vojnar presents narrative bits of dangerously achieved or frustrated dreams of power, which, if they haven't already collapsed in failure, are precariously perched to do so. A tightrope walker balances above city rooftops, plagued by a flock of pigeons threatening to send him tumbling down from his delicate position. A woman in a diaphanous gown levitates off a red couch toward the artificial light of a large fixture on the ceiling. The sense that this is not a rational or sustainable position is perfectly palpable.
n this sense Vojnar is an allegorist for an unallegorical age. How many of our current personal and political situations are similar high-wire acts, unsustainably suspended, and fraught with an atmosphere of tragedy? His Flying Blind series epitomizes dashed hopes and impossible dreams with its multiple images of fallen or falling angels and desperate, irrational attempts to take to the air. Vojnar's technique of multiple printings and re-printings of the same images combined and recombined through digital and physical collage, hand- painted and patinaed, mimics a process of constant interpretation in denial of fixed certainties. As Yeats put it, "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity." The center isn't holding. Our economies, our ethics, and our environment are all incredibly unstable at this juncture, and without ever saying it explicitly, Vojnar elegantly expresses all the sadness, uncertainty, and insurmountability that are the hallmarks of our time. He hints with a quiet strength at the cycle of tortures that is the price of our mass delusions.
Was Socrates plagiarizing King Solomon, who some four hundred or so years before the Greek philosopher stated, "Fear of God is the beginning of knowledge"? Is this what James Joyce meant by his "Jewgreek is greekjew" line in Ulysses? For sure, we will never know. Literature, whether Biblical or Modernist, like all good art, is never built on certainties. Or as my recently deceased hero Lou Reed puts it in Heroin, his proto-punk ode to smack: "When I'm rushing on my run / And I feel just like Jesus' son / I guess I just don't know / And I guess that I just don't know."


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Manchester City will now have to fight off Chelsea and Real Madrid if they want to land exciting Malaga youngster.
Current Malaga manager Manuel Pellgrini has been heavily tipped to take over at Etihad Stadium in the summer following Roberto Mancini's sacking last week.
The Chilean was then linked with taking Isco with him to Manchester City but it now appears they will have serious competition from Chelsea and Real Madrid, according to talkSPORT.
The report claims Santiago Bernabeu president Florentino Perez is planning wholesale changes at the club after it was confirmed manager Jose Mourinho would be leaving at the end of the season.
One of Real Madrid's major targets will be the promising 21-year-old Spain international, according to the report.
However, Chelsea have a long-standing interest in Isco and they were reported to have first option to sign him earlier this year.
It was claimed that the Blues loaning young Brazilian striker Lucas Piazon to Malaga had out the Stamford Bridge club on pole position to land Isco.
It has been a second successful season for the former Valencia trainee, as he took on greater responsibility to fill the void left by Santi Cazorla's switch to Arsenal.
His performances in the Champions League this season led to his profile being raised and him being considered one of the finest young talents in Europe.
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