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All Common Core: 12th Grade English Language Arts Resources
Example Questions
Example Question #1 : Find And Analyze Two Or More Themes; Objective Summary Of The Text: Ccss.Ela Literacy.Ri.11 12.2
Adapted from "On a Certain Blindness in Human Beings" (1900) by William James
Some years ago, while journeying in the mountains of North Carolina, I passed by a large number of 'coves,' as they call them there, or heads of small valleys between the hills, which had been newly cleared and planted. The impression on my mind was one of unmitigated squalor. The settler had in every case cut down the more manageable trees, and left their charred stumps standing. The larger trees he had girdled and killed, in order that their foliage should not cast a shade. He had then built a log cabin, plastering its chinks with clay, and had set up a tall zigzag rail fence around the scene of his havoc, to keep the pigs and cattle out. Finally, he had irregularly planted the intervals between the stumps and trees with Indian corn, which grew among the chips; and there he dwelt with his wife and babes--an axe, a gun, a few utensils, and some pigs and chickens feeding in the woods, being the sum total of his possessions.
The forest had been destroyed; and what had 'improved' it out of existence was hideous, a sort of ulcer, without a single element of artificial grace to make up for the loss of Nature's beauty. Ugly, indeed, seemed the life of the squatter, scudding, as the sailors say, under bare poles, beginning again away back where our first ancestors started, and by hardly a single item the better off for all the achievements of the intervening generations.
"Talk about going back to nature!" I said to myself, oppressed by the dreariness, as I drove by. Talk of a country life for one's old age and for one's children! Never thus, with nothing but the bare ground and one's bare hands to fight the battle! Never, without the best spoils of culture woven in! The beauties and commodities gained by the centuries are sacred. They are our heritage and birthright. No modern person ought to be willing to live a day in such a state of rudimentariness and denudation.
Then I said to the mountaineer who was driving me, "What sort of people are they who have to make these new clearings?" "All of us," he replied. "Why, we ain't happy here, unless we are getting one of these coves under cultivation." I instantly felt that I had been losing the whole inward significance of the situation. Because to me the clearings spoke of naught but denudation, I thought that to those whose sturdy arms and obedient axes had made them they could tell no other story. But, when they looked on the hideous stumps, what they thought of was personal victory. The chips, the girdled trees, and the vile split rails spoke of honest sweat, persistent toil and final reward. The cabin was a warrant of safety for self and wife and babes. In short, the clearing, which to me was a mere ugly picture on the retina, was to them a symbol redolent with moral memories and sang a very pæan of duty, struggle, and success.
I had been as blind to the peculiar ideality of their conditions as they certainly would also have been to the ideality of mine, had they had a peep at my strange indoor academic ways of life at Cambridge.
The key tension present in the text is between ________________.
the perspectives of the speaker and the the residents of the mountains
old age and youth
rich and poor people
modernity and pastoralism
the perspectives of the speaker and the the residents of the mountains
Here, you are being asked to identify two major themes in the passage, and to understand the way in which they interact over the course of the text, namely, that they form an overriding contrast or tension.
While the speaker spends the vast majority of the passage talking about the ways in which the "forest had been destroyed" and replaced with "artificial grace to make up for the loss Nature's beauty," the title of the piece provides a useful hint that the focus here is on human senses and thinking, and the "blindnesses" inherent to these processes. The speaker conveys his strong convictions about what has been done to the natural landscape he sees in order to convey his opinion on the matter fully, for the express purpose of contrasting his perspective with that of the locals. The answer here is to be found in the conclusion, which does not focus on what has literally been done to "the clearing," but rather on the difference between these two primary perspectives, what to the speaker "was a mere ugly picture on the retina, was to them a symbol redolent with moral memories and sang a very pæan of duty, struggle, and success."
Example Question #2 : Find And Analyze Two Or More Themes; Objective Summary Of The Text: Ccss.Ela Literacy.Ri.11 12.2
Adapted from "Geographical Evolution" by Archibald Geikie (1879)
In the quaint preface to his Navigations and Voyages of the English Nation, Hakluyt calls geography and chronology "the sunne and moone, the right eye and the left of all history." The position thus claimed for geography three hundred years ago by the great English chronicler was not accorded by his successors, and has hardly been admitted even now. The functions of the geographer and the traveller, popularly assumed to be identical, have been supposed to consist in descriptions of foreign countries, their climate, productions, and inhabitants, bristling on the one hand with dry statistics, and relieved on the other by as copious an introduction as may be of stirring adventure and personal anecdote. There has indeed been much to justify this popular assumption. It was not until the key-note of its future progress was struck by Karl Ritter, within the present century, that geography advanced beyond the domain of travellers' tales and desultory observation into that of orderly, methodical, scientific progress. This branch of inquiry, however, is now no longer the pursuit of mere numerical statistics, nor the chronicle of marvelous and often questionable adventures by flood and fell. It seeks to present a luminous picture of the earth's surface, its various forms of configuration, its continents, islands, and oceans, its mountains, valleys, and plains, its rivers and lakes, its climates, plants, and animals. It thus endeavours to produce a picture which shall not be one of mere topographical detail. It ever looks for a connection between scattered facts, tries to ascertain the relations which subsist between the different parts of the globe, their reactions on each other and the function of each in the general economy of the whole. Modern geography studies the distribution of vegetable and animal life over the earth's surface, with the action and reaction between it and the surrounding inorganic world. It traces how man, alike unconsciously and knowingly, has changed the face of nature, and how, on the other hand, the conditions of his geographical environment have moulded his own progress.
With these broad aims geography comes frankly for assistance to many different branches of science. It does not, however, claim in any measure to occupy their domain. It brings to the consideration of their problems a central human interest in which these sciences are sometimes apt to be deficient; for it demands first of all to know how the problems to be solved bear upon the position and history of man and of this marvelously-ordered world wherein he finds himself undisputed lord. Geography freely borrows from meteorology, physics, chemistry, geology, zoology, and botany; but the debt is not all on one side. Save for the impetus derived from geographical research, many of these sciences would not be in their present advanced condition. They gain in vast augmentation of facts, and may cheerfully lend their aid in correlating these for geographical requirements.
In no respect does modern geography stand out more prominently than in the increased precision and fullness of its work. It has fitted out exploratory expeditions, and in so doing has been careful to see them provided with the instruments and apparatus necessary to enable them to contribute accurate and definite results. It has guided and fostered research, and has been eager to show a generous appreciation of the labours of those by whom our knowledge of the earth has been extended. Human courage and endurance are not less enthusiastically applauded than they once were; but they must be united to no common powers of observation before they will now raise a traveller to the highest rank. When we read a volume of recent travel, while warmly appreciating the spirit of adventure, fertility of resource, presence of mind, and other moral qualities of its author, we instinctively ask ourselves, as we close its pages, what is the sum of its additions to our knowledge of the earth? From the geographical point of view - and it is to this point alone that these remarks apply - we must rank an explorer according to his success in widening our knowledge and enlarging our views regarding the aspects of nature.
The demands of modern geography are thus becoming every year more exacting. It requires more training in its explorers abroad, more knowledge on the part of its readers at home. The days are drawing to a close when one can gain undying geographical renown by struggling against man and beast, fever and hunger and drought, across some savage and previously unknown region, even though little can be shown as the outcome of the journey. All honour to the pioneers by whom this first exploratory work has been so nobly done! They will be succeeded by a race that will find its laurels more difficult to win - a race from which more will be expected, and which will need to make up in the variety, amount, and value of its detail, what it lacks in the freshness of first glimpses into new lands.
The primary contrast made in this text is the one between _______________ and _________________.
geography . . . travel journalism
topographical mapping practices . . . scientific measurement of geographical features
old ways of doing geography . . . modern geography
geography . . . other hard sciences, like chemistry
old ways of doing geography . . . modern geography
The key term in the question text here was "primary." There are numerous contrasts made throughout the text, but this question is asking you to isolate the main contrast. A good, if not infallible, indicator of contrast's overall importance in a text is the amount of writing devoted to it. Right away, we can see that "topographical mapping," while briefly discussed is hardly a primary theme, nor part of a particularly important contrast. "Geography and travel journalism" is a tempting choice, since this contrast is important, especially to the argument made in the first paragraph. But is it the most important? In assessing the primary contrast at play in a text, it is often helpful to look for broader themes, by being so literal in its reference to a contrast this answer choice limits itself, and makes it less likely to reflect the primary contrast.
Fundamentally, this text is about the old and the new ways of doing geography. The entire purpose of opening with a discussion of the old ways of doing geography is to introduce an overriding contrast with the new ways outlined later. This fundamental thematic contrast thus serves a vital rhetorical function, and forms the primary contrast at play in the text.
Example Question #3 : Find And Analyze Two Or More Themes; Objective Summary Of The Text: Ccss.Ela Literacy.Ri.11 12.2
Adapted from Reflections on the Revolution in France by Edmund Burke (1790)
In the famous statute called the Declaration of Right, the two houses utter not a syllable of "a right to frame a government for themselves." You will see that their whole care was to secure the religion, laws, and liberties that had been long possessed and had been lately endangered. They state "in the first place" to do "as their ancestors in like cases have usually done for vindicating their ancient rights and liberties, to declare;"—and then they pray the king and queen, "that it may be declared and enacted, that all and singular the rights and liberties asserted and declared are the true ancient and indubitable rights and liberties of the people of this kingdom."
You will observe that from the Magna Carta to the Declaration of Right, it has been the uniform policy of our constitution to claim and assert our liberties as an entailed inheritance derived to us from our forefathers and to be transmitted to our posterity; as an estate specially belonging to the people of this kingdom, without any reference whatever to any other more general or prior right. By this means, our constitution preserves a unity in so great a diversity of its parts. We have an inheritable crown; an inheritable peerage; and a House of Commons and a people inheriting privileges, franchises, and liberties from a long line of ancestors.
This policy appears to me to be the result of profound reflection, or rather the happy effect of following nature, which is wisdom without reflection and above it. A spirit of innovation is generally the result of a selfish temper and confined views. People will not look forward to posterity who never look backward to their ancestors. Besides, the people of England well know, that the idea of inheritance furnishes a sure principle of conservation, and a sure principle of transmission; without at all excluding a principle of improvement. It leaves acquisition free; but it secures what it acquires. Whatever advantages are obtained by a state proceeding on these maxims are locked fast as in a sort of family settlement, grasped as in a kind of mortmain forever. By a constitutional policy working after the pattern of nature, we receive, we hold, we transmit our government and our privileges in the same manner in which we enjoy and transmit our property and our lives. The institutions of policy, the goods of fortune, the gifts of providence, are handed down to us and from us in the same course and order. Our political system is placed in a just correspondence and symmetry with the mode of existence decreed to a permanent body composed of transitory parts; wherein the whole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but, in a condition of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied tenor of perpetual decay, fall, renovation, and progression. Thus, by preserving the method of nature in the conduct of the state, in what we improve, we are never wholly new; in what we retain, we are never wholly obsolete. By adhering in this manner and on those principles to our forefathers, we are guided not by the superstition of antiquarians, but by the spirit of philosophic analogy. In this choice of inheritance, we have given to our frame of polity the image of a relation in blood; binding up the constitution of our country with our dearest domestic ties; adopting our fundamental laws into the bosom of our family affections; keeping inseparable, and cherishing with the warmth of all their combined and mutually reflected charities, our state, our hearths, our sepulchers, and our altars.
Through the same plan of a conformity to nature in our artificial institutions and by calling in the aid of her unerring and powerful instincts to fortify the fallible and feeble contrivances of our reason, we have derived several other, and those no small benefits, from considering our liberties in the light of an inheritance. Always acting as if in the presence of canonized forefathers, the spirit of freedom, leading in itself to misrule and excess, is tempered with an awful gravity. This idea of a liberal descent inspires us with a sense of habitual, native dignity. By this means our liberty becomes a noble freedom. It carries an imposing and majestic aspect. It has a pedigree and illustrating ancestors. It has its bearings and its ensigns armorial. It has its gallery of portraits; its monumental inscriptions; its records, evidences, and titles. All your sophisters cannot produce anything better adapted to preserve a rational freedom than the course that we have pursued, who have chosen our nature rather than our speculations, our breasts rather than our inventions, for the great conservatories and magazines of our rights and privileges.
How is "inheritance" characterized in the bolded and underlined passage
A longstanding, regressive aspect of a political system in desperate need of change
A fundamental principle of the British political system that has been adopted by choice
A fundamental, irresistible principle of the British political system that has been passively carried through by legislators
An important intellectual principle that needs to be incorporated into the fundamental structure of the British political system.
A fundamental principle of the British political system that has been adopted by choice
This question asks you to analyze and provide summary analysis of a particular section of the text as it relates to a major theme of the work.
In the excerpt, "inheritance" is characterized as a fundamental principle of the British political system, incorporated actively and by "choice."
The author asserts that this choice has already been made and had huge influence, not that it "needs" to begin to be incorporated. The author characterizes this system in a positive way; he does figure it as a regressive system in need of change.
The author specifically figures the incorporation of this system as "a choice," not as an irresistible force (he wouldn't need to argue for an irresistible force; it would be irresistible!).
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This is a two part blog series. The first will focus on setting up your elastic instance with EC2 (and Windows) and the second will show you how to work with your existing EC2 images and Bamboo.
In 2009, we introduced cloud support for Bamboo by taking advantage of Amazon's Elastic Compute Cloud (EC2) – elastic agents. This feature allowed Bamboo users to instantly add the capacity they needed for their continuous integration environment using Amazon EC2.
Elastic Compute Cloud usage in Bamboo has seen steady growth and popularity, especially among the users of our OnDemand platform, where all computing resources for Bamboo are supplied by Amazon's EC2.
Listening to customer feedback, we have added more and more cloud based features, including:
- support for Amazon EC2 spot instances
- automatically Managed Elastic instances
In Bamboo 3.4 we focused on expanding cloud usage by providing
- support for EC2 on Windows/.Net
- availability of more stock Bamboo EC2 images
- easier customisation of EC2 images
Note: the information below relates to Bamboo 3.4. Need to upgrade? Check out the Bamboo Upgrade guide.
EC2 Windows Support
Below is a step-by-step guide to get started with Bamboo and Amazon EC2 Windows.
In Bamboo 3.4, your EC2 image list now includes a new stock Bamboo image – Windows.
The stock Bamboo Windows image is based on Windows 2008 Server R2 64bit.
If you are familiar with setting up a Linux/UNIX image, the process is similar for setting up a Windows image. Let's set up our Bamboo Windows image in three simple steps:
1. Enable Elastic Bamboo support.
2. Start a Windows instance.
3. Build away!
Bamboo will do all the work to get you going with Windows. For some, this step-by-step will get you going, but for others, the Windows image might need to be customized to fit your needs.
Windows Image Customisation
Bamboo's stock Windows image contains the basic tools required to build your projects
- Maven, Ant and NAnt
- Support for version control systems including Subversion, Git, Mercurial, CVS and Perforce
Chances are you'll want to enhance the Windows image with your specific toolchain components, such as build systems, compilers, and databases. These enhancements are quite easy with Bamboo 3.4.
- Navigate to the elastic instance that you would like to customize
- Log into the elastic agent using a Remote Desktop Connection – a password is provided on the elastic instance page
3. After logging in to your elastic instance, you can now make the necessary adjustments to the image and bundle it (the example below uses AWS Management Console):
In the past, you had to update your custom image every time a new version of Bamboo was released. No longer with Bamboo 3.4 – the images — along with the custom plugins you have installed on your system — will automatically adapt to the version of the current Bamboo Server. This change also applies to Linux images as well.
Instances created from Windows images are as secure as the Linux ones – or for that matter, as secure as any other hosts available on the Internet. The image has no default credentials that could be used externally, and it has no services that could make your instances available to unauthorised people. The only services open to external access are Bamboo's internal encrypted tunnel port and Remote Desktop Protocol port for an interactive access to the instance.
For a stock Bamboo image, the Administrator password is randomly generated every time an instance is started and made available to people with access to the private instance launch key only(that includes Bamboo Administrators).
When creating your own images, you may opt to choose your own fixed password (in this case the password will not be available anywhere and you should make sure it's not lost) or a randomized password using the the password randomisation feature.
The Future of Windows Images
Windows images are now a permanent feature of Bamboo, and hopefully, they will already be useful to people who wish to use them. However, we realize that it's difficult to get everything done right the first time. So, if you have any suggestions regarding the content of the images (keep in mind that licensing issues may be involved) or anything that could be improved, be sure to let us know via our issue tracking system. We will try to include your suggestions in the future versions of Bamboo.
Using your existing EC2 Images with Bamboo
Stay tuned for the second part of our blog series on EC2 Windows Images. In some cases, instead of using a stock Bamboo image as a starting point for your customisation, you may want to start with a non-Bamboo image (for example, one containing a different Windows version or possibly, additional software from a third party vendor). Subscribe to the to the Dev Tools blog or check back next week.

subset: commoncrawl


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Both the Ballarat's Cactus and Succulent Society and the Australian Cactus and Succulent Society, based in Melbourne, are hosting displays and sales of plants at very reasonable prices to the public. Many are rarely available, even at specialist nurseries.
Cuttings, or "pups," as they are more correctly known, will be available, mostly very cheaply that allow enthusiasts to grow on and nurture their pup into specimens of the dimensions on exhibition at both shows.
Whilst both groups have been madly working to set up their displays and seller stalls and reach as many plant enthusiasts and admirers as possible, it is unfortunate that, for the first time ever, these two events clash. This limits opportunities for members of both clubs to partcipate in the other's event, particularly when both clubs usually do their utmost to sustain and support the other's endeavours!
The public are much luckier, being able to take advantage of both days to embrace and participate in a full weekend seeing of some of the very best of these plants, and meeting their growers in person.
Ballarat's event is on from 9.30 am until late afternoon, in the Robert Clarke Centre, at Ballarat's Botanical Gardens.
The Australian Society's annual display, sale and show is on at the Mount Waverly Community Centre in Melbourne's eastern suburbs.
Nothing beats learning from the experience and witnessing the knowledge, passion and dedication of cactus and succulent growers, for those who are just beginning, or developing their own collections of these unique plants!
It is equally a great opportunity to learn about the advantages of belonging to your nearest Cactus and Succulent club, if you too enjoy these wonderful quirky and often colourful plants, so well adapted to Australia's testing regional climatic conditions.


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Sibillinya, NATIGO CARRIER
- Add feedback:
- 12031
- szt.
- Catalog price: €117.76
- Discount: -€23.55
- €94.21
NatiGo Baby Carrier
- Fabrics are dyed and woven only in European Union according to rigorous ecological certificates.
- You can carry your baby at the front and at the back.
- The carrier include attachable hood.
- Recommended for children from 7 kg (15 Ib) to 20 kg (44 Ib) and older than 4 months of age.
- Carriers are made of Natibaby fabrics.
- Comfortable for both - parent and child.
How to choose the proper size of the baby carrier How to choose the hood
Actual colors may vary due to the fact that every monitor has a different capability to display colors. We try to make photos to show the samples as life-like as possible, but please understand the actual color may vary slightly from your monitor. Pattern placement may vary from the one presented in the pictures.
Check the time to prepare the product: link


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this was on my old blog….needs to be on my new one 🙂 Leaving snowy Maryland while I'm California dreaming 🙂
Archive for February, 2015
California Dreaming…..Flash back to San Diego 2011Posted: February 27, 2015 in Travel
Tags: California Dreaming, photo journal San Diego, San Diego, San Diego Zoo, travel journal, trip report, vacation, winter vacation
Winter trip report Malaga SpainPosted: February 7, 2015 in Travel
Tags: Cordoba, Madrid, Malaga, Malaga trip report, Ronda, Spain, Spain trip report, winter travel
I'm home now after a delightful trip to Spain. My stay included Madrid, Malaga & Cordoba. I did a day trip to Ronda. Next time, I will base all my stay in Malaga. Awesome people, places and food!!! There's lots to see and do there. Even with a week's stay I have many more items still on my list. My report is under construction. I am going to be very busy the next few weeks but will get to this project as soon as I can. Here's a sneak preview. I've got lots more to add. I miss Spain.


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Okay so you are probably familiar with cuckold phone sex fantasies, especially if the title of this blog post made you want to read further. While it's very true that many men have a desire to watch their wife or girlfriend with another man – that's nothing new – and some men might even want to get in on the action by stroking or even fluffing her bull to get him rock hard and ready to give it to her good. But, what about that cream pie that needs to be cleaned after he has pumped her full of his creamy wad? Who should clean that sticky cum out of her soaking wet cunt? What if you don't really want to take it that far but she decides that you have no choice as she mounts your face and grinds against you, demanding that you clean her out while her new boyfriend watches with excitement.
What are you going to do when your extreme phone sex fun takes an even more twisted turn and her boyfriend decides to bend you over and fuck your sissy ass while your wife watches with pleasure. Turning you into their submissive bitch might be just what they are looking to do. Imagine being forced to wear a pair of panties while your wife and her bull enjoy an evening of play and they don't allow you to stroke or masturbate at all. You are to watch and that is all. Of course, if you can't keep your hands off of that teeny tiny pecker of yours, you may find yourself locked into a chastity device to ensure your compliance. Sound hot?
Nothing gets my pussy wetter than talking to a horny man who has a no limits mentality when it comes to kinky or taboo phone sex fun.
Anything goes when you call this sexy and experienced BBW phone sex slut! What are you waiting for? Pick up the phone and let the fun begin!
Mommy Phone Sex with Shannon
Want to lie in my lap and suck on my big tits like you did when you were a very little boy? Your phone sex mommy is ready to bring all of that nurturing warmth and passion back to you as you explore all of your favorite family fun fantasies with her.
I will take you back in time to when you looked at mommy as your total caretaker, bathing you, feeding you, hugging and kissing you, dressing you and making you feel tingly good all over.
Remember when you were a horny teen and you would sneak a pair of your mother's panties out of the hamper so that you could sniff her scent? It made you so hard didn't it? Did you take them into your bedroom and wrap them around your cock so that you could jerk off into them? Maybe cumming in them and then putting them back into mommy's drawer gave you a secret thrill. You wanted your mother to feel your cum up against her pussy as she put those dirty panties back on, didn't you?
Now that you are all grown up you probably still fantasize about your mother. When you see her flirting playfully with your friends makes you realize that she is the true definition of a phone sex MILF. You see how seductive she is and how your friends react to her in sexually suggestive ways and it makes you wish she would tease you the way she does them. Am I right?
Well guess what? When you call me to play, we can explore all of those fantasies and more! No matter how you want to play, I will be an eager partner, even if it is an extreme phone sex fantasy or fetish that you are interested in. Anything goes!
I am a no limits phone sex mommy who is experienced and mature and ready to make you cum like never before! Give me a call today!
BBW Phone Sex MILF
I am fully aware that many men lust after skinny women who look like they just stepped out of Vogue magazine. What I love about being a no limits phone sex MILF is hearing from men who are sexually attracted to bigger women…. BBW phone sex playmates. These callers tell me that they like it real and they want to feel a woman's curves and fluff, not skin and bones when they are banging her deep. I get it. I like a man who has some beef to his body so I know what these callers are saying.
I have always been a bigger girl and I have always had a very strong sexual appetite. I began having sex at a very early age and I was exposed to some of the dirtiest fun there is, right out of the gate. Because of that, I tend to enjoy the more extreme phone sex callers who understand my twisted perversions and are willing to share their own with me.
Family fun is just one of my favorite taboo topics and there are many different ways to engage in a mommy/son; brother/sister or daddy/daughter fantasy. I would love to share some of my real life experiences with you – or hear some of yours. Anything goes!
I also get off on fetish fun. Experimenting in some of the really bizarre fetishes can be a great way to live out those really kinky desires that you have without having to actually go through with them. Topics such as cum eating, cock sucking, cross dressing, smoking, medical examinations, adult baby, etc. are just a sampling of what we can talk about and I would love nothing more than to provide you with a discreet outlet to help you blow off some pent up sexual energy.
I am experienced, mature and open minded but most of all respectful of your dirty secrets. You can let all of your inhibitions go and enjoy the most intimate and erotic fantasy play knowing that our calls will always be 100 percent discreet. Call me now. Let's get off together.
Kinky Mommy Phone Sex
Are you looking for a kinky phone sex mommy who can rock your cock like no other? Well look no further, you have found the MILF of your wet dreams, right here!
I am an experienced woman who loves taking on the most extreme phone sex fantasies imaginable. That's right, you don't have to hold back when you dial my line to play. I like to get really down and dirty and there are no limits to where we will go together. Anything goes here honey!
If you have dreamed of being with a BBW with big tits and a curvy body, then I am the lady for you! I want to rub these DD's against your face, letting you suck on these nipples of mine until they are as hard as a rock and your cock is raging underneath of me. Let me masturbate my clit against that stiff rod, pinning you under me as I rock my hips back and forth, forcing you to play along. Of course, once you feel that dick plunge into my wet and waiting pussy, you will eagerly participate in anything that I ask you to do. You do want to obey your mommy don't you?
I love roleplay and would love to act out your favorite fantasy, no matter how perverted, taboo or twisted it is.
Along with being a naughty mommy, I can also share some of my cheating wife stories with you. My husband's tiny dick has been banned from entering my pussy for years now so sharing some of my favorite cuckold phone sex secrets with you would make me really hot and wet. Wouldn't you love to hear some of them?
No matter what kind of fun you are looking for, you can bet that I will satisfy every one of your erotic needs. Give me a call today and let's get off together.


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The most exciting holiday village in Austria.
Leogang is the best place to stay in all the 4 seasons. And offers a wide variety of sport activities
Winter Activities in Saalfelden Leogang
In winter you can enjoy the 200 km of slopes in Skicircus Saalbach Hinterglemm Leogang, the Nitro-Snowpark (designed by world champion Stefan Gimpl). Nordic walkers also have 150 km comprehensive trails.
See here all accommodations


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Adult Programs
Wildlife Tracking Apprenticeship
Immerse Yourself In the Science & Art of Tracking.
For Adults with a true interest in becoming a more skilled wildlife tracker.
Wildlife Tracking Evaluations
Put Your Skills to the Test.
For Adults interested in raising the bar with their track, sign & trailing skills
New England Bird Language Intensive
Learn the Language of Nature.
For Adults curious about discovering the world of birds


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This is India's Land's End, the tip of peninsular India where the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea meet. The confluence of these three places is also referred as 'Thriveni Sangamam'.Kanyakumari otherwise popularly known as Cape Comorin is supposed to be a famous pilgrim centre and a beach resort. The unique feature of Kanyakumari is the view of Sunrise and the Sunset where lot of tourists assembles at the shore to witness this breathtaking sight. With long stretches of sands of many hues, the beach offers a welcome change. As an entertainment for the tourists coming here there are also lot of adventure activities like trekking, biking, swimming and surfing.
LOCATION : The beach is located in the in the southern most end of the India.


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With the springtime falling of rain, our yard washed over with dandelions. As each came into its own puffy fluffy fullness, Lucas would find it. Each newly-found dandelion was a discovery, a delight, a cause for celebration. And after each celebration there was a pause, while he considered to what use he should put this particular wish. Then his lips would pucker like a kiss, and with a whoosh the seeds would sail into the air, off on their own adventures and (I suspect) eventually coming back round to our own weed-riddled grass, to sprout and to grow and to flower again.
In the midst of all this, and the sickness, and the rest, there was one wish that we had planned to share here; Kyle's dad, the boys' Papa Bob, celebrated a birthday worthy of a song. Also worthy of a cake. This is the one we would have made for him, if he lived a little closer. As it is, we'll have to hope that when we see him next week we squeeze in a moment or two for cake, and dandelions, and wishes of all stripes.
A belated happy birthday to our dear BobBob. Looking forward to celebrating soon! xo
Barley Cakes with Fresh Mint Buttercream
Perhaps you have some barley flour leftover from making scones? If so, this might be the best possible use for it. That warm creaminess from the barley flour deepens a pretty standard cake into something noteworthy, with a hint of caramel sweetness and an almost-crackly top. It's not a fancy cake or an "interesting" cake, but it is a deeply delicious one.
As for the icing – icing is not (usually) my thing. It is definitely not Lucas's. But even we two icing-eschewers were charmed into dolloping little caps of this minty-sweet buttercream onto our cakes. As our friends in the cold, cold northeast are reporting mint sightings in their yard, this recipe seems perfect for now, to welcome spring and all that is green-growing. (Mint, yes – but a flavor nothing like a holiday-time extract would give. This buttercream showcases mint as living, leafing herb; green, zesty, wonderfully fresh.)
Barley Cakes
This is a riff on our half-batch weekday (cup)cakes, which recipe is heavily adapted from the 1-2-3-4 Yellow in Joy of Cooking. You can double it for 24 cups, or try the 1-2-3-4 cake if company's coming and you're in the mood to whisk egg whites. (Though I'd wager that no guest, whether for a playdate or a dinner party, would turn their nose up at this delightful-and-whiskless barley version.)
1 cup all purpose flour
1/4 cup whole grain barley flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 stick unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar
3 smaller (or 2 larger) eggs
Preheat the oven to 350 F. Butter and flour one standard muffin tin (12 cups) – or line with papers if you have them.
Sift or fork together the flours, baking powder and salt. Measure the milk into your measuring cup, then mix in the vanilla.
In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, three to five minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Beating on low speed, add half the flour mixture, then half the milk. Mix until smooth, scraping down the bowl as necessary. Add the other half of the flour and milk, and mix until smooth.
Scoop into prepared muffin tins, and bake for 18-22 minutes or until lightly golden and cooked through the center. Let cool completely before frosting.
Fresh Mint Buttercream
Adapted from Trophy Cupcakes & Parties via Not Without Salt
I took liberties here because I wanted so much to try this but had no cream cheese and (shockingly) no sweet butter. I did have lots of fresh mint and (shockingly) powdered sugar. I'm sure that the version with the cream cheese gets a nice tangy edge. I opted instead to use the full cup of mint leaves on half the amount of butter – no doubt a different flavor profile. But the fresh mint idea is such a good one that I think it could probably work any number of ways.
This amount of sugar gave us a good consistency and a nice level of sweetness; adjust to your own taste as you'd like.
1 stick salted butter, soft
1 loose cup fresh mint leaves, finely minced
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 – 3/4 cup packed powdered sugar
In the bowl of a stand mixer combine butter and mint leaves. Beat on low with paddle attachment until well combined. Scrape down the bowl with a rubber spatula then mix on medium low for one minute more. With the machine on low add the vanilla and then the powdered sugar. Once combined, increase the speed to medium high then beat for three or four minutes, until light and fluffy, but still very creamy. This buttercream is best eaten the day it is made.


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A short introduction in English.
Struycken Advocaten was established in Amsterdam in 2009 by H.F.M. Struycken. Our highly qualified and socially committed lawyers offer legal aid & advice to private individuals, small firms and self-employed professionals.
We offer services in many fields of expertise, specialising in International Family Law, Criminal Law, Immigration Law, Tort Law and Damages, Labour Law, Contract Law, Social Security Law, Administrative Law and Tenancy Law.
Many situations involve legal issues rooted in different fields of law. Our lawyers enjoy the daily benefit of each other's professional company. For you this means that you don't have to explain yourself more than once to get the best possible advice. And if you have separate issues that need different specialized lawyers you only need to come to one place.
Initial consultation is offered free of charge to all our clients. During or after the first appointment the rates and possible legal fees concerned will be determined by the lawyer and his client or clients. Struycken Advocaten also offers its services to clients with low (or no) income that qualify for legal aid. The Dutch system in some cases includes a client contribution to the legal aid provided.
All our lawyers speak English, some lawyers are also fluent in additional languages: David Peters is a native English speaker also fluent in the Spanish language and a little bit of Basque. Mary Issa serves international clients in immigration matters. She is fluent in English, Arabic and Aramaic. Huib Struycken speaks fluent French.
If we don't speak your language in most cases we can provide for an interpreter to be present. Of course you are welcome to bring a family member or friend to interpret for you.
A limited overview of subjects per field of expertise is listed below. Please contact us if your subject is not listed. We will connect you with the right lawyer of our team.
International Family Law: marriage and divorce, alimony, custodial issues, youth protection measures, child abduction, change of birth name of birth name.
Criminal Law: all criminal procedures, legal aid upon and after apprehension, extradition, Victim Law
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Tort Law and Damages: personal liability for damages, damages after personal injury, medical mistakes
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Tenancy Law: rent and payment issues, landlord conflicts, eviction, temporary tenancy, subletting


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A perfect fall day greeted people at Saturday's 20th ING Hartford Marathon, with runners and wheelchair participants hitting the pavement as spectators cheered them on.
From the 5K to the half to the full marathon, thousands of runners with thousands of stories began their journey of endurance, determination, and spirit.
Getachew Melese, an Ethiopia native living in the Bronx, N.Y., was the overall marathon winner and winner of the men's division with a time of 2:19:23.
Matt Pelletier, of West Greenwich, R.I., crossed the finish line seconds after Melese with a time of 2:21:21.
Heading up the women's division was Erica Jesseman, of Scarborough, Maine, with a time of 2:38:08.
More than 2,600 runners from around the country – and the world – faced off in the marathon alone. Thousands more competed in the half marathon, marathon relay, 5K and wheelchair races.
They hailed from all over and ran for those who couldn't. Members of the Nesci family from Madison. They ran in honor of the father and husband who bears a surgery scar from a recent brain tumor.
"Life is too short," said Sal Nesci, recently recovered. "You gotta go out and enjoy it, and you gotta do it as a family."
They're all lacing up their running shoes for Dad.
"It means a lot to be able to tackle it as a family, like we do everything, similar to the health situation," said Nesci's daughter, Catherine.
"Seeing how far he's come from being in the hospital to being back out on the street running, it's just incredible seeing how far he's come," said Sebastian, Nesci's son.
The Nesci family isn't the only one with a story to tell. Some are as simple as a trio of friends who like to bond over rubber hitting asphalt.
"We've been training all summer," said runner Holly Peterson of Burlington, who ocmpeted alongside friends Kim Cence and Amy Douglas. "We would run long runs on the weekend and as much as we can through the week."
Other stories prove that age is just a number. One woman said she's been running the marathon for 20 years and has no intention of calling it quits.
"I'm still going. I want to go until I'm 70," said Wanda Shaw of New Britain.
But today's race wasn't just about personal triumphs.
Security was at the forefront of everyone's minds following the bombings at the Boston Marathon last April.
Many runners and spectators who were at the course in Boston and headed to Hartford today and said the city appears to have beefed up its police presence and emergency preparedness.
"I feel pretty comfortable with them here," said Caeli Rubens, who lives in Boston.
The marathon also provided the city with a big financial boost.
"Hotels have been booked for a long, long time, and just to have this amount of people and this energy and all the runners, it's a great event," said Hartford Mayor Pedro Segarra.
Still, through the grueling miles, worn-out muscles, sweat and pain, it's that feeling at the finish line that makes marathon day all too rewarding.
"You couldn't ask for a better day," said runner Julia Morgillo. "It was sunny. Beautiful weather. It was an awesome course too. Great support out there."


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Volunteers are special people and we want to ensure you are well-prepared.
I have been a patient care volunteer with Hospice by the Bay (HBTB) for four years. I have volunteered with a few other organizations, and I found the training and ongoing support provided to volunteers by HBTB to be far superior to anything I found elsewhere. The staff is so professional, conscientious and dedicated. The transdisciplinary team approach keeps everyone informed and allows service to patients to be seamless. Working with HBTB has been and will continue to be one of the most rewarding activities of my life.
Training for Patient & Family Support Volunteers
Our Patient and Family Support care volunteers attend a comprehensive, 30-hour training, which includes 20 hours of classroom time and 10 hours of self-paced online training. Below are scheduled dates for the Winter/Spring classroom days. All trainings follow the same agenda. Applicants are encouraged to train at the same site they will volunteer.
Marin County — Spring Training (at our Larkspur headquarters):
Applications due: Apr. 1, 2020
Self-paced online training begins: Apr. 13
Classroom training: May 2, 11, 18
Note: Volunteers especially needed in Novato and Northern Marin County.
San Francisco/San Mateo — Spring Training (at our offices in San Francisco and Larkspur):
Applications due: Feb. 1, 2020
Self-paced online training begins: Feb. 7
Classroom training: Mar. 7 (SF); Mar. 16 (Larkspur); Mar. 28 (SF)
Note: Volunteers especially needed to visit patients in San Mateo County.
Bi-lingual volunteers also needed in Cantonese, Mandarin, Spanish, Russian and Tagalog.
Sonoma County/Napa/Solano — Spring Training (at our offices in the City of Sonoma and Larkspur):
Applications due: Jan. 3, 2020
Self-paced online training begins: Jan. 2
Classroom training: Jan. 25 (Sonoma); Feb. 10 (Larkspur); Feb. 22 (Sonoma) — all sessions 9:30 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Note: Volunteers especially needed to visit patients in northern or western Sonoma County, or the cities of American Canyon, Napa or Vallejo.
Click here for Patient & Family Support Volunteer Training/Orientation Requirements
Training topics include:
- Hospice history and philosophy
- Hospice team and services
- Volunteer role and boundaries
- Communication skills with terminally ill patients and their families
- Disease process, symptom management and the active dying process
- Psychosocial issues and family dynamics
- Comfort care, physical assistance training and body mechanics
- Spiritual issues in hospice work
- Grief and loss in hospice work
- If you are assigned to volunteer at a nursing home, residential care facility or hospital, we'll cover additional topics, including policies and procedures, performance standards, assignment procedures, documentation and personnel forms. A TB skin test is required.
Commitment to Service
We appreciate the dedication and commitment of our Patient and Family Support volunteers. To provide consistent service to them, we ask that volunteers commit to the following:
- A minimum of one year of regular weekly service
- Approximately two to four hours per week
- Attend three to four support meetings or education in-service programs
- Participate in one annual review (mandatory)
Training for Organizational Support Volunteers
- Attend a 2 1/2 hour orientation to the agency.
- Volunteers also receive additional on-site training specific to their task.
Training for By Bay Camp Volunteers
Details on the By the Bay Camp page.
Learn more about
Types of Volunteers - Patient & Family Support
Types of Volunteers - Organizational Support


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New Intake Information
St Charles' Catholic Primary School
New Intake Information
This webpage will provide you with lots of information which will help you to get your child 'school-ready' and support transition into 'big school'
New Parent's Guide to St Charles' Catholic Primary School
For an insight into current learning in our Reception class then please click here.
Stay and Play Morning
photos coming soon
New Parent's Guide to St Charles' Catholic Primary School
St Charles' EYFS Transition Policy
Before your child starts school, you will have plenty of opportunities to meet with members of the EYFS team.
- We will hold a 'New Parent's Meeting' on Friday 23rd June 2017.
- 'Stay and Play Session' will take place on Wendesday 28th June 2017.
Home Visits will take place Tuesday 5th September, Wednesday 6th September and Thursday 7th September 2017.
- All Parents are given an opportunity to have a 1:1 conversation with members of the EYFS during home visits. This gives parents an opportunity to ask any questions and discuss any personal information which may be useful for the school.More information about Home Visits will be given during the new intake morning.
- We will also contact all nursery settings to arrange a visit to meet your child in their current setting. If this is not possible then we aim to speak to them informally to gain as much information about your child as possible.
- All Reception children will attend school for half days during their first week of school, this allows children and staff members to get to know each other betters as well as easing children into their new setting.
If you have any questions then please contact a member of the EYFS Team directly on the school telephone number 0151 727 5830.
School Ready
- Happy-Talk
- Listen-and-Learn
- Make-a-mark,-make-a-start
- PACEY_preparingforschool_guide
- PACEY_schoolready_activity
- The-Numbers-Game
Other Useful documents
- A Guide To Toilet Training
- A Guide To Toilet Training
- Dump the Dummy
- Helping_your_child_at_home_in_maths
- Numbergamesforparents
- parents L&S
- ParentsguidetoEYFS
- RWI QA_for_parents Writing_at_Home[1]
- Gamestohelpyourchilddevelopfinemotorskills
- Howtohelpyourchildusingscissors
- Howtohelpyourchildwithbalancing
- Howtohelpyourchildwithdressingbuttonsandzips
- Howtohelpyourchildwithhandskills
- Howtohelpyourchildwithplanningandorganisingtheirmovements
- Howtohelpyourchildwithpre-writingskills
- Howtohelpyourchildwithshoelacesandcutlery
Read Write Inc


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Apple has never been present at the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona to present news about future market launches. We know that they are going for free and make their own individual events to hog all the media attention.
Nonetheless, in recent years the event, Apple has always been a reward for California. The iPhone 4 was named best smartphone of 2010 and the iPad 2 was the best tablet of 2011. In this year, Apple has lost both titles in its top competitors in the market: the Samsung Galaxy S3 and Nexus 7 .
For the category for best smartphone of 2012, the Galaxy S3 has managed to keep out terminals as pointers as the iPhone 5, HTC Droid DNA or Nokia Lumia 920.
With regard to the category of the best tablet of 2012, the iPad remains a flagship product but in this case failed Apple strategy to launch three models of iPad in no time (iPad 3, iPad 4 and iPad Mini) , which has caused much division of opinion and that has snatched the title that finally led the Nexus 7 which is manufactured by Asus.
In Apple certainly continue to show indifference to these results, after all, the iPhone 5 already has the title of world's best selling smatphone but should remember why they are so high and avoid complacency. For years they have done a great job but the competition is getting stronger, prices begin to be competitive and it takes a knock on the table to stand out from other products.
More - The iPad 2 is proclaimed as the best tablet of MWC 2012 | The iPhone 5 is the world's bestselling smartphone
Source - iDownloadblog
Article The Samsung Galaxy S3 is named best smartphone at MWC 2012 was originally published in News iPhone .


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Join Pittsburgh Sports Network on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.
Stay updated on registration & league news, game highlights, weather cancellations & alerts, league photos, registration contests and much more!
You can also email us anytime for more info or just to say hello!
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PSN Leagues are a great way to meet new people and network, all while playing sports in convenient downtown Pittsburgh locations! Keep playing year-round with 5 seasons/year.
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N.C.V.O staff members came into work today (12 October) to find that their tool shed had been broken into and over a dozen items stolen.
The N.C.V.O could not provide a dollar figure for the stolen items, but said it could be in the thousands.
They say all items were either donated or purchased through financial donations and with their upcoming annual fundraiser, this theft sets them back.
"If they find it in their heart, just bring 'em back, drop it back on the property, we'll pick em' up, we won't say nothing. That would be the greatest thing to happen right now, not sure if that will happen, but you know, I can only appeal to people to help," said NCVO Coordinator, Mona Lisa Meade.
Anyone with information to call 9-1-1 or the George Town Police Station on 949-4222 or the tipline 949-7777.


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Would a lily by any other name be as sweet? Arne Jacobsen first designed the ' 3208' Lily chair in 1968, then added the petal-like arms in 1970,when designing for the Danish national bank.
Also known as the seagull chair in Scandinavia, the Lily is made of moulded plywood, similar to the Ant chair and Series 7 chair. An updated version of this graceful chair has been released in 2007 by Fritz Hansen.


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- United Kingdom
- Italy
- Greece
- France
- Netherlands
- Belgium
- Hungary
- Finland
- Denmark
- Sweden
- Austria
In the midst of these dark times, Louise Day Hicks mounted a campaign for mayor on a platform that appealed to those who wanted to get rid of busing. What surprised many was that Hicks also received support from several of the more activist black political groups. I think that included the Black Panthers, but I am not absolutely sure. What I do remember is an interview with a member of one of those groups in which he was asked why he would vote for someone who favored such a discriminatory policy. His answer has stuck with me ever since he gave it:
At least we know where she stands.When Max Weber forecast that a society that placed the market as its highest priority would bring about "loss of meaning," I wonder if he realized that one of the ways in which meaning would be lost would be through the general acceptance that deception is fundamental to the practice of politics. In other words just about every political candidate can never be more effective than a bottle of patent medicine, perhaps just because the normative practices of politics have turned out that way.
This may be one reason why some many people flocked to Barack Obama's promise of change the first time he ran for President. However, changing political practices is like changing the course of a battleship. It takes a lot of time and a lot of advance calculation. Unfortunately, I suspect that the sorts of changes Obama had in mind all resided on the surface structure of our social world, dealing with matters such as health care, education, and poverty. He may not have grasped that change on the surface structure can only come about after the deep structure has been changed. By not taking that proposition into account, he continues to be undermined by that deep structure and now runs the risk of being undermined by those who will promise nothing other than taking a sledge hammer to that deep structure.


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The sizzling, un-put-downable sequel to the New York Times bestselling Rebel of the Sands, by Goodreads Choice Awards Best Debut Author of 2016 Alwyn Hamilton!
Mere months ago, gunslinger Amani al'Hiza fled her dead-end hometown on the back of a mythical horse with the mysterious foreigner Jin, seeking only her own freedom. Now she's fighting to liberate the entire desert nation of Miraji from a bloodthirsty sultan who slew his own father to capture the throne.
When Amani finds herself thrust into the epicenter of the regime--the Sultan's palace--she's determined to bring the tyrant down. Desperate to uncover the Sultan's secrets by spying on his court, she tries to forget that Jin disappeared just as she was getting closest to him, and that she's a prisoner of the enemy. But the longer she remains, the more she questions whether the Sultan is really the villain she's been told he is, and who's the real traitor to her sun-bleached, magic-filled homeland.
Forget everything you thought you knew about Miraji, about the rebellion, about djinni and Jin and the Blue-Eyed Bandit. In Traitor to the Throne , the only certainty is that everything will change.
Rebel of the Sands was a New York Times bestseller, published in fifteen countries and the recipient of four starred reviews and multiple accolades, with film rights optioned by Willow Smith. And its sequel is even better.
Author Notes
Alwyn Hamilton was born in Toronto, Canada. She studied history of art at King's College, Cambridge University. She worked at an auction house in London. Her first novel, Rebel of the Sands, was published in 2016.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews 4
School Library Journal Review
Gr 8 Up-Amani Al-Hiza continues to wield a rifle and magic as she and fellow rebels plot to overthrow the Sultan, put the Rebel Prince in power, and give truth to their cries of "A new dawn! A new desert!" Amani, "The Blue-Eyed Bandit," is a demdji (half djinn, on her father's side) who was separated from Jin, one of the Sultan's out-of-favor sons, at the end of Rebel of the Sands. No prison can hold her, and Amani escapes to join rebel friends, only to be recaptured and held as a "flower in the Sultan's harem." Not that Amani's acerbic wit and willingness to fight will allow the Sultan or his guards any peace. Jin, Ahmed, Shazad, and others from the previous volume are integral to this tale, along with human and nonhuman rebel friends and foes. There are passages of violent conflict; passionate, interrupted kisses; and occasional discussions of political theory. Shape-shifters, formidable djinni, and ruthless double-crossing keep the story racing along. The Sultan has sons by many women, and not all of them can (or should) reign over the desert kingdom of Miraji and its nearby lands. Though Amani doesn't desire the crown for herself, she definitely wants a say in who will become ruler of Miraji. Significant loose ends point to a third book. VERDICT Purchase where the first installment is popular, or buy both titles for larger collections.-Maggie Knapp, Trinity Valley School, Fort Worth, TX © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Horn Book Review
As a half-magic Demdji, "Blue-Eyed Bandit" Amani (Rebel of the Sands) must conceal her powers while a prisoner at the palace. She's also there spying for Prince Ahmed's rebellion to overthrow his tyrannical father, the Sultan. The Middle Eastern lore, relationships, and political machinations continue to be well developed in the captivating--and heartbreaking--second installment of this epic fantasy. (c) Copyright 2018. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
Palace intrigue, military stratagems, even cosmic powers can't eclipse the complex tangle of love, loss, and loyalty in this Arabian Nights-inspired fantasy sequel.The rebellion against the Sultan of Miraji is collapsing, but months after joining the fight, Amani is doing even worse. Her love life is faltering, her friends are on the run, and she has been captured and sold to the Sultan, who covets her half-Djinni powers. As his prisoner, she's well-positioned to spyif she can only conceal her identity, survive the jealousy of the harem, and stop doubting her mission. This follow-up to Rebel of the Sands (2016) retains the heroine's snarky first-person voice and irresistible attitude while digging much deeper and darker. The appalling consequences and compromises of war are not sugarcoated, but the matter-of-fact evil within the palace may be even more horrific. Nearly every character hurts, betrays, or fails another; yet they remain sympathetic, with understandable justifications. While most (like Amani) are dark-skinned desert folk, others display ethnicities clearly analogous to various African, Asian, and European origins, a diversity fully reflected in their choices and actions. With an expanded geopolitical backdrop, intricate web of schemes, and heightened interpersonal drama, this hefty tome is almost overstuffed with plot, all building to a crescendo of heart-poundingand heartbreakingclimaxes that will leave readers sobbing and desperate for the next volume. A story "about revenge and about love and about sacrifice and the great and terrible thingspeople do"and, ultimately, about the "truly invincible" power of stories themselves. Superlative. (Fantasy. 12 up) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
Strong-willed Amani found herself enmeshed in a revolution in Rebel of the Sands (2016), and this intrigue-filled sequel continues her story. After a spy discovers the rebels' camp, Amani is captured and sent to the palace, where the sultan plans to use her Demdji powers. While there, Amani conspires to help the rebellion from within, but as the uprising grows into war, she begins to doubt the cause for which she's been fighting. This volume may have less action, but there is plenty to love. As Amani takes on a new role as a scheming prisoner, she becomes a stronger character, allowing readers to see more of her wit and resilience. A romance with Jin is still present, but it's not the story's focus; this is very much Amani's tale, and political maneuverings take center stage. Hamilton's strong and exciting sophomore novel is full of compelling twists and turns, and the ending will leave readers highly anticipating the final volume in the Rebel of the Sands trilogy.--Thompson, Sarah Bean Copyright 2017 Booklist
One The Foreign Prince Once, in the desert kingdom of Miraji, there was ayoung prince who wanted his father's throne. He had no claim to it but the belief that his father was a weak ruler and that he would be stronger. And so he took the throne by force. In a single night of bloodshed the Sultan and the prince's brothers fell to the young prince's sword and the foreign army he led. When dawn came he was nolonger a prince. He was the Sultan. The young Sultan was known to take wives into his harem the same way he had his country: by force. In the first year of his rule, two such wives gave birth to sons under the same stars. One wife was a girl born in the sands. Her son belonged to the desert. The other wife was a girl born across the water, in a kingdom called Xicha, and raised on the deck of a ship. Her son did not belong. But the sons grew as brothers nonetheless, their mothers shielding them from the things the palace walls could not. And for a time, in the Sultan's harem, things were well. Until the first wife gave birth again, but this time to a child that was not her husband's--a Djinni's daughter, with unnatural hair and unnatural fire in her blood. For her crime in betraying him, the Sultan turned his anger on his wife. She died under the force of his blows. Such was his rage, the Sultan never noticed the second wife, who fled with their two sons and the Djinni's daughter, escaping back across the sea to the kingdom of Xicha, where she had been stolen from. There, her son, the Foreign Prince, could pretend that he belonged. The Desert Prince could not pretend; he was as foreign in this land as his brother had been in their father's. But neither prince was destined to stay long. Soon, both left Xicha for the open seas instead. And for a time, on ships going anywhere and coming from nowhere, things were well for the brothers. They drifted from one foreign shore to another, belonging in each place equally. Until one day, across the bow of the ship, Miraji appeared again. The Desert Prince saw his country and remembered where he really belonged. On that familiar shore he left the ship and his brother. Though the Desert Prince asked his brother to join him, the Foreign Prince would not. His father's lands looked empty and barren to him and he could not understand what hold they had over his brother. And so they parted ways. The Foreign Prince stayed on the sea for a time, raging silently that his brother had chosen the desert over the sea. Finally the day came when the Foreign Prince could no longer be separated from his brother. When he returned to the desert of Miraji, he found that his brother had set it on fire with rebellion. The Desert Prince talked of great things, of great ideas, of equality and of prosperity. He was surrounded by new brothers and sisters who loved the desert as he did. He was now known as the Rebel Prince. But still he welcomed the man who had been his brother his whole life with open arms. And for a time things were well in the Rebellion. Until there was a girl. A girl called the Blue-Eyed Bandit, who had been made in the sands and sharpened by the desert and who burned with all of its fire. And for the first time the Foreign Prince understood what it was that his brother loved in this desert. The Foreign Prince and the Blue-Eyed Bandit crossed the sands together, all the way to a great battle in the city of Fahali, where the Sultan's foreign allies had rooted themselves. In that battle of Fahali the rebels won their first great victory. They defended the desert against the Sultan who would have burned it alive. They freed the Demdji, another Djinni's child, whom the Sultan would have turned into a weapon against his will. They killed the young commander, their brother who would have shed blood until he could win praise from his father, the Sultan. They ruptured the Sultan's alliance with the foreigners who had been punishing the desert for decades. And the rebels claimed part of the desert for themselves. The story of the battle of Fahali spread quickly. And with it spread news that the desert might be a prize for the taking again. For the desert of Miraji was the only place where the old magic and the new machines were able to exist together. The only country that could spit out guns quickly enough to arm men to fight in the great war raging between the nations of the north. New eyes from foreign shores turned to Miraji, hungry ones. More foreign armies descended on the desert, coming from all sides, each trying to claim a new alliance, or the country itself. And while enemies from outside gnawed at the Sultan's borders and kept his army occupied, the rebels seized city after city from the inside, knocking them out of the Sultan's hands and rallying the people to their side. And for a time things were well for the Rebellion, for the Blue-Eyed Bandit, and for the Foreign Prince. Until the balance started to shift against the Rebel Prince. Two dozen rebels were lost in a trap set for them in the sands, where they were surrounded and outgunned. A city rose up against the Sultan, crying out the Rebel Prince's name in the night. But those who did saw the next dawn with the blank eyes of the dead. And the Blue-Eyed Bandit fell to a bullet in a battle in the mountains, gravely wounded and only just clinging to life. There, for the firsttime since the threads of their stories had become tangled, the Blue-Eyed Bandit's and the Foreign Prince's paths split. While the Blue-Eyed Bandit clung to her life, the Foreign Prince was sent to the eastern border of the desert. There, an army from Xicha was camped. The Foreign Prince stole a uniform and walked into the Xichian camp as if he belonged. It was easy there, where he did not look foreign anymore. He stood with them as they battled the Sultan's forces, spying in secret for the Rebel Prince. And for a time things were well, hiding among the foreign army. Until the missive came from the enemy camp, its bearer wearing the Sultan's gold and white and holding up a flag of peace. The Foreign Prince would have killed for news of what came in that missive for his own side, but there was no need. It was known that he spoke the desert language. He was summoned into the Xichian general's tent to translate between the Sultan's envoy and the Xichian, neither of them knowing he was an enemy of them both. As hetranslated he learned that the Sultan was calling for a ceasefire. He was tired of bloodshed, the message said. He was ready to negotiate. The Foreign Prince learned that the ruler of Miraji was summoning all the foreign rulers to him to talk of a new alliance. The Sultan asked for any king or queen or emperor or prince who would lay claim to his desert to come to his palace to make their case. The missive went to the Xichian emperor the next morning. And the guns stopped. The ceasefire had started. Next would come negotiations. Then peace between the Sultan and the invaders. And without the need to mind his shores, the desert ruler's eyes would turn inward again. The Foreign Prince understood it was time to return to his brother. Their rebellion was about to turn into a war. Two I'd always liked this shirt. It was a shame about all the blood. Most of it wasn't mine, at least. The shirt wasn't mine, either, for that matter--I'd borrowed it from Shazad and never bothered to give it back. Well, she probably wouldn't want it now. "Stop!" I was jerked to a halt. My hands were tied, and the rope chafed painfully along the raw skin of my wrists. I hissed a curse under my breath as I tilted my head back, finally looking up from my dusty boots to lock eyes with the glare of the desert sun. The walls of Saramotai cast a mighty long shadow in the last of the light. These walls were legendary. They had stood indifferent to one of the greatest battles of the First War, between the hero Attallah and the Destroyer of Worlds. They were so ancient they looked like they'd been built out of the bones of the desert itself. But the words slapped in sloppy white paint above the gates . . . those were new. Welcome to the Free City I could see where the paint had dripped between the cracks in the ancient stones before drying in the heat. I had a few things to say about being dragged to a so-called Free City tied up like a goat on a spit, but even I knew I was better off not running my mouth just now. "Declare yourself or I'll shoot!" someone called from the city wall. The words were a whole lot more impressive than the voice that came with them. I could hear the crack of youth on that last word. I squinted up through my sheema at the kid pointing a rifle at me from the top of the walls. He couldn't have been any older than thirteen. He was all limbs and joints. He didn't look like he could've held that gun right if his life depended on it. Which it probably did. This being Miraji and all. "It's us, Ikar, you little idiot," the man holding me bellowed in my ear. I winced. Shouting really didn't seem necessary. "Now, open the gates right now or, God help me, I'm going to have your father beat you harder than one of his horseshoes until some brains go in." "Hossam?" Ikar didn't lower the gun right away. He was twitchy as all get-out. Which wasn't the best thing when he had one finger on the trigger of a rifle. "Who's that with you?" He waved his gun in my direction. I turned my body on instinct as the barrel swung wildly. He didn't look like he could hit the broad side of a barn if he was trying, but I wasn't ruling out that he might hit me by accident. If he did, better to get shot in the shoulder than the chest. "This"--a hint of pride crept into Hossam's voice as he jerked my face up to the sunlight like I was a hunted carcass--"is the Blue-Eyed Bandit." That name landed with more weight than it used to, drawing silence down behind it. On top of the wall Ikar stared. Even this far away I saw his jaw open, going slack for a moment, then close. "Open the gates!" Ikar squawked finally, scrambling down. "Open the gates!" The huge iron doors swung open painfully slow, fighting against the sand that had built up over the day. Hossam and the other men with us jostled me forward in a hurry as the ancient hinges groaned. The gates didn't open all the way, only enough for one man to get through at a time. Even after thousands of years those gates looked as strong as they had at the dawn of humanity. They were iron through and through, as thick as the span of a man's arms, and operated by some system of weights and gears that no other city had been able to duplicate. There'd be no breaking these gates down. And everyone knew there was no climbing the walls of Saramotai. Seemed like the only way into the city these days was by being dragged through the gates as a prisoner with a hand around your neck. Lucky me. Saramotai was west of the middle mountains. Which meant it was ours. Or at least, it was supposed to be. After the battle at Fahali, Ahmed had declared this territory his. Most cities had sworn their allegiance quickly enough, as the Gallan occupiers who'd held this half of the desert for so long emptied out of the streets. Or we'd claimed their allegiance away from the Sultan. Saramotai was another story. Welcome to the Free City. Saramotai had declared its own laws, taking rebellion one step further. Ahmed talked a whole lot about equality and wealth for the poor. The people of Saramotai had decided the only way to create equality was to strike down those who were above them. That the only way to become rich was to take their wealth. So they'd turned against the rich under the guise of accepting Ahmed's rule. But Ahmed knew a grab for power when he saw one. We didn't know all that much about Malik Al-Kizzam, the man who'd taken over Saramotai, except that he'd been a servant to the emir and now the emir was dead and Malik lived in his grand estate. So we sent a few folks to find out more. And do something about it if we didn't like it. They didn't come back. That was a problem. Another problem was getting in after them. And so here I was, my hands tied so tight behind my back I was losing feeling in them and a fresh wound on my collarbone where a knife had just barely missed my neck. Funny how being successful felt exactly the same as getting captured. Hossam shoved me ahead of him through the narrow gap in the gates. I stumbled and went sprawling in the sand face-first, my elbow bashing into the iron gate painfullyas I went down. Son of a bitch, that hurt more than I thought it would. A hiss of pain escaped through my teeth as I rolled over. Sand stuck to my hands where sweat had pooled under the ropes, clinging to my skin. Then Hossam grabbed me, yanking me to my feet. He hustled me inside, the gate clanging quickly shut behind us. It was almost like they were afraid of something. A small crowd had already gathered inside the gate to gawk. Half were clutching guns. More than a few of those were pointed at me. So my reputation really did precede me. "Hossam." Someone pushed to the front. He was older than my captors, with serious eyes that took in my sorry state. He looked at me more levelly than the others. He wouldn't be blinded by the same eagerness. "What happened?" "We caught her in the mountains," Hossam crowed. "She tried to ambush us when we were on our way back from trading for the guns." Two of the other men with us dropped bags that were heavy with weapons on the ground proudly, as if to show off that I hadn't gotten in their way. The guns weren't of Mirajin make. Amonpourian. Stupid-looking things. Ornate and carved, made by hand instead of machine, and charged at twice what they were worth because someone had gone to the trouble of making them pretty. It didn't matter how pretty something was, it'd kill you just as dead. That, I'd learned from Shazad. "Just her?" the man with the serious eyes asked. "On her own?" His gaze flicked to me. Like he might be able to suss out the truth just from looking at me. Whether a girl of seventeen would really think she could take on a half dozen grown men with nothing but a handful of bullets and win. Whether the famous Blue-Eyed Bandit could really be that stupid. I preferred "reckless." But I kept my mouth shut. The more I talked, the more likely I was to say something that'd backfire on me. Stay silent, look sullen, try not to get yourself killed. If all else fails, just stick with that last one. "Are you really the Blue-Eyed Bandit?" Ikar blurted out, making everyone's head turn. He'd scrambled down from his watchpost on the wall to come gawk at me with the rest. He leaned forward eagerly across the barrel of his gun. If it went off now it'd take both his hands and part of his face with it. "Is it true what they say about you?" Stay silent. Look sullen. Try not to get yourself killed. "Depends what they're saying, I suppose." Damn it. That didn't last so long. "And you shouldn't hold your gun like that." Ikar shifted his grip absently, never taking his eyes off me. "They say that you can shoot a man's eye out fifty feet away in the pitch dark. That you walked through a hail of bullets in Iliaz, and walked out with the Sultan's secret war plans." I remembered Iliaz going a little differently. It ended with a bullet in me, for one. "That you seduced one of the Emir of Jalaz's wives while they were visiting Izman." Now, that was a new one. I'd heard the one about seducing the emir himself. But maybe the emir's wife liked women, too. Or maybe the story had twisted in the telling, since half the tales of the Blue-Eyed Bandit seemed to make out I was a man these days. I'd stopped wearing wraps to pretend I was a boy, but apparently I'd need to fill out a little more to convince some people that the bandit was a girl. "You killed a hundred Gallan soldiers at Fahali," he pushed on, his words tripping over each other, undeterred by my silence."And I heard you escaped from Malal on the back of a giant blue Roc, and flooded the prayer house behind you." "You shouldn't believe everything you hear," I interjected as Ikar finally paused for breath, his eyes the size of two louzi pieces with excitement. He sagged, disappointed. He was just a kid, as eager to believe all the stories as I had been when I was his age. Though he looked younger than I ever remembered being. He shouldn't be here holding a gun like this. But then, this was what the desert did to us. It made us dreamers with weapons. I ran my tongue along my teeth. "And the prayer house in Malal was an accident...mostly." A whisper went through the crowd. I'd be lying if I said it didn't send a little thrill down my spine. And lying was a sin. It'd been close to half a year since I'd stood in Fahali with Ahmed, Jin, Shazad, Hala, and the twins, Izz and Maz. Us against two armies and Noorsham, a Demdji turned into a weapon by the Sultan; a Demdji who also happened to be my brother. Us against impossible odds and a devastatingly powerful Demdji. But we'd survived. And from there the story of the battle of Fahali had traveled across the desert faster even than the story of the Sultim trials had. I'd heard it told a dozen times by folks who didn't know the Rebellion was listening. Our exploits got greater and less plausible with every telling but the tale always ended the same way, with a sense that, while the storyteller might be done, the story wasn't. One way or another, the desert wasn't going to be the same after the battle of Fahali. The legend of the Blue-Eyed Bandit had grown along with the tale of Fahali, until I was a story that I didn't wholly recognize. It claimed that the Blue-Eyed Bandit was a thief instead of a rebel. That I tricked my way into people's beds to get information for my Prince. That I'd killed my own brother on the battlefield. I hated that one the most. Maybe because there'd been a moment, finger on the trigger, where it was almost true. And I had let him escape. Which was almost as bad. He was out there some where with all of that power. And, unlike me, he didn't have any other Demdji to help him. Sometimes, late at night, after the rest of the camp had gone to sleep, I'd say out loud that he was alive. Just to know whether it was true or not. So far I could say it without hesitation. But I was scared that there would come a day when I wouldn't be able to anymore. That would mean it was a lie, and my brother had died, alone and scared, somewhere in this merciless, war-torn desert. "If she's as dangerous as they say, we ought to kill her," someone called from the crowd. It was a man with a bright yellow military sash across his chest that looked like it'd been stitched back together from scraps. I noticed a few were wearing those. These must be the newly appointed guard of Saramotai, since they'd gone and killed the real guard. He was holding a gun. It was pointed at my stomach. Stomach wounds were no good. They killed you slowly. "But if she's the Blue-Eyed Bandit, she's with the Rebel Prince." Someone else spoke up. "Doesn't that mean she's on our side?" Now, that was the million-fouza question. "Funny way to treat someone on your side." I shifted my bound hands pointedly. A murmur went through the crowd. That was good; it meant they weren't as united as they looked from the outside of their impenetrable wall. "So if we're all friends here, how about you untie me and we can talk?" "Nice try, Bandit." Hossam gripped me tighter. "We're not giving you a chance to get your hands on a gun. I've heard the stories of how you killed a dozen men with a single bullet." I was pretty sure that wasn't possible. Besides, I didn't need a gun to take down a dozen men. It was almost funny. They'd used rope to tie me. Not iron. If ever there was iron touching my skin, I was as human as they were. So long as there wasn't, I could raise the desert against them. Which meant I could do more damage with my hands tied than I ever could with a gun in them. But damage wasn't the plan. "Malik should decide what we do with the Bandit anyway." The serious-eyed man rubbed his hand over his chin nervously as he mentioned their self-appointed leader. "I do have a name, you know," I offered. "Malik isn't back yet," the same one who'd been pointing the gun at me snapped. He seemed like the tense sort." She could do anything before he gets back." "It's Amani. My name, that is." No one was listening. "In case you were wondering." This arguing might go on for a while. Ruling by committee never went quick. It barely ever worked at all. "Then lock her away until Malik gets here," a voice from somewhere in the back of the crowd called. "He's right," another voice called from the other side, another face I couldn't see. "Throw her in jail where she can't make any trouble." A ripple of agreement spread through the crowd. Finally the man with sad eyes jerked his head in a sharp nod. The crowd parted hastily as Hossam started to pull me through. Only they didn't move very far. Everyone wanted to get a look at the Blue-Eyed Bandit. They stared and jostled for space as I was pulled past them. I knew exactly what they were seeing. A girl younger than some of their daughters, with a split lip and dark hair stuck to her face by blood and sweat. Legends were never what you expected when you saw them up close. I was no exception. The only thing that made me any different from every other skinny, dark-skinned desert girl was eyes that burned a brighter blue than the midday sky. Like the hottest part of a fire. "Are you one of them ?" It was a new voice, rising shrill above the din of the crowd. A woman with a yellow sheema shoved to the front. The cloth was stitched with flowers that almost matched my eyes. There was a desperate urgency in her face that made me nervous. There was something about the way she said them . Like she might mean Demdji . Even folks who knew about Demdji couldn't usually pick me out as one. We children of Djinn and mortal women looked more human than most folks reckoned. Hell, I'd even fooled myself for near seventeen years. Mostly I didn't look unnatural, just half-foreign. My eyes were what gave me away, but only if you knew what you were looking for. And it seemed like this woman did. "Hossam." The woman staggered to keep up as he dragged me through the streets. "If she's one of them, she's worth just as much as my Ranaa. We could trade her instead. We could--" But Hossam shoved her aside, letting her be swallowed back into the crowd as he dragged me deeper into the city. The streets of Saramotai were as narrow as they were ancient, forcing the crowd to thin and then dissipate as we moved. Walls pressed close around us in the lengthening shadows, tight enough in some places that my shoulders touched on both sides. We passed between two brightly painted houses with their doors blown in. Gunpowder marks on walls. Boarded-up entryways and windows. There were more and more marks of war the farther we walked. A city where the fighting had come from inside, instead of beyond the walls. I supposed that was called a rebellion. The smell of rotting flesh came before I saw the bodies. We passed under a narrow arch half covered by a carpet drying in the sun. The tassels brushed my neck as I ducked under. When I looked back up, I saw two dozen bodies swinging by their necks. They were strung together across the great exterior wall like lanterns. Lanterns who'd had their eyes picked out by vultures. It was hard to tell if they'd been old or young or pretty or scarred. But they'd all been wealthy. The birds hadn't gotten to the Kurtas stitched with richly dyed thread or the delicate muslin sleeves of their khalats. I almost gagged at the smell. Death and desert heat made quick work of bodies. The sun was setting behind me. Which meant that when sunrise came the bodies would blaze with light. A new dawn. A new desert. Excerpted from Traitor to the Throne by Alwyn Hamilton All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.


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