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Throughout the United States history, Congress has passed legislation to address important political, social or economic issues. These laws have often had a significant impact on American society.
You may use any federal law that was intended to address and important issue from your study of United States history. Some suggestions you might wish to consider include:
Throughout history, the United States government has taken various actions to address problems with the nation's economy.
Base your answers to questions 1 and 2 on the photograph below and on your knowledge of social studies.
the photograph?
(1) Many Americans had lost jobs during the Great Depression.
(2) Thousands of homes had been destroyed by the effects of the Dust Bowl.
(3) Housing projects could not keep up with the demand for homes needed by the poor.
(4) Preparations for World War II had created a shortage of building materials.
(1) expanding the armed services
(2) using the police to evict "Hooverville" residents
(3) delivering food, water, and medical supplies to residents
(4) providing jobs and home loans to American workers
3 During the early 1930s, the main goal of the Bonus Army was to pressure the Hoover administration to
(1) strengthen the nation's defenses
(2) end the military draft
(3) bring American troops home from overseas
(4) support the early payment of money promised to veterans
4 Opponents of the New Deal criticized President Franklin D. Roosevelt for
(1) expanding the role and size of the federal government
(2) permitting banks to operate without government regulation
(3) weakening the executive branch
(4) reducing spending to balance the budget
Base your answers to questions 5 and 6 on the passage below and on your knowledge of social studies.
...2. We propose to limit the amount any one man can earn in one year or inherit to $1 million to the person. 3. Now, by limiting the size of the fortunes and incomes of the big men, we will throw into the government Treasury the money and property from which we will care for the millions of people who have nothing; and with this money we will provide a home and the comforts of home, with such common conveniences as radio and automobile, for every family in America, free of debt....
— Senator Huey Long, 1935 5 Based on these statements by Senator Long, one reason for the suffering caused by the Great Depression was the
(1) failure of President Franklin D. Roosevelt to sign relief legislation
(2) overproduction of military equipment
(3) uneven distribution of income that favored the rich
(4) failure of labor unions to accept shorter work days 6 President Franklin D. Roosevelt responded to the circumstances described in this passage by
(1) renewing New Deal programs to help big business
(2) raising taxes to assure a balanced federal budget
(3) stressing free market economic principles
(4) increasing New Deal efforts for relief and reform 7 What was the primary motive behind President Franklin D. Roosevelt's 1937 proposal to add members to the Supreme Court?
(1) removal of Republican justices from the Court
(2) ending the Court's use of judicial review
(3) assuring United States neutrality at the start of World War II
(4) protection of New Deal programs from unfavorable Court decisions 8
"Troops Break Up Bonus Army Protest"
"FDR Proclaims Bank Holiday"
"Misery Created by Dust Bowl"
These headlines concern events that occurred during the
(1) Civil War
(2) Progressive Era
(3) Great Depression
(4) Cold War
9 A major difference between the philosophies of President Herbert Hoover and President Franklin D. Roosevelt in responding to the Great Depression is that Roosevelt
(1) wanted to rely on private charities to provide assistance
(2) stressed the need for individual self-reliance
(3) supported direct relief to people out of work
(4) thought the government should not be involved in economic reform
(1) Social Security Administration
(2) Works Progress Administration
(3) Agricultural Adjustment Administration
(4) Securities and Exchange Commission
Base your answers to questions 11 and 12 on the cartoon below and on your knowledge of social studies.
(1) trying to increase the public's respect for the Supreme Court
(2) seeking the Supreme Court's help against his political opponents
(3) attempting to exercise too much influence over the Supreme Court
(4) refusing to allow the Supreme Court to review legislation
12 One outcome of the situation referred to in the cartoon was that
(1) President Roosevelt decided not to seek reelection
(2) the Supreme Court ended most New Deal programs
(3) President Roosevelt was impeached for abuse of his powers
(4) Congress rejected President Roosevelt's effort to pack the Supreme Court
13 During the 1920s, installment buying, income inequality, and stock market speculation contributed to the
(1) introduction of supply-side economics
(2) return of laissez-faire economic principles
(3) economic weaknesses that helped bring about the Great Depression
(4) decision to lower tariff rates 14 During the 1920s, which economic trend helped cause the Great Depression?
(1) buying goods on credit
(2) saving rather than spending
(3) continuing shortages of consumer goods
(4) imposing low tariffs on imported products
15 What was an underlying cause of the Great Depression?
(1) unequal distribution of income throughout the 1920s
(2) adoption of high federal income tax rates during the 1920s
(3) failure of American farmers to produce enough food after World War I
(4) rapid increase in federal defense spending following World War I
(1) Atlantic Coastal Plain
(2) Ohio River valley
(3) Great Plains
(4) Pacific Coast 17 In 1937, President Franklin D. Roosevelt sought to increase the number of Supreme Court justices because
(1) some justices complained they were unable to handle the heavy caseload
(2) some regions of the country were not represented on the Court
(3) the Court needed more minority representation
(4) the Court had declared several New Deal programs unconstitutional
Base your answer to question 18 on the maps below and on your knowledge of social studies.
(1) The Great Depression altered American political preferences.
(2) The Republican Party remained strong in the deep South.
(3) The Democratic Party lost support in the Northeast between the two elections.
(4) Most voters believed in traditional approaches to economic problems. 19 What was a basic cause of the Great Depression of the 1930s?
(1) Too many antitrust laws were passed.
(2) Tariffs on foreign manufactured goods were reduced.
(3) The distribution of income was unequal.
(4) Immigration was not limited. 20 Which factor led to agricultural overproduction and falling farm prices during the 1920s?
(1) decline in European demand after World War I
(2) lower tariffs enacted by Congress
(3) lack of access to cheap credit
(4) decreasing population in cities of the South 21 During the 1920s, much of the debt accumulated by consumers was due to
(1) installment buying of manufactured goods
(2) overproduction of farm products
(3) long strikes by labor unions
(4) rising income taxes
22 During the 1930s, poor land management and severe drought conditions across parts of the Midwest resulted in the
(1) formation of the United States Department of Agriculture
(2) creation of wheat surpluses
(3) growth of the Granger movement
(4) development of Dust Bowl conditions on the Great Plains
23 The New Deal reform that helped labor unions win the right to represent workers was the
(1) creation of Social Security
(2) formation of the Securities and Exchange Commission
(3) passage of the National Labor Relations (Wagner) Act
(4) establishment of unemployment insurance
Base your answer to question 24 on the chart below and on your knowledge of social studies.
(1) President Herbert Hoover's economic policies expanded job opportunities.
(2) The United States unemployment rate reached its highest level in 1938.
(3) President Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal programs failed to address the unemployment crisis.
(4) World War II ended the high unemployment rates of the Great Depression. 25 As part of the New Deal, the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) and the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC) were created to
(1) allow for a quick recovery of stock prices
(2) provide direct loans to businesses
(3) protect individual investors from stock fraud and bank failure
(4) allow banks and companies to invest in the stock market 26 Senator Huey Long, Dr. Francis Townsend, and Father Charles Coughlin are best known as
(1) members of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's cabinet
(2) outspoken critics of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal
(3) supporters of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's reelection campaign in 1940
(4) members of the Supreme Court nominated by President Franklin D. Roosevelt
Base your answer to question 27 on the cartoon below and on your knowledge of social studies.
(1) increase ethnic and racial diversity
(2) insure support for New Deal legislation
(3) appoint justices who would use a strict interpretation of the Constitution
(4) strengthen judicial independence
Base your answer to question 28 on the cartoon below and on your knowledge of social studies.
(1) New Deal programs are endangering the country.
(2) Most Americans support New Deal programs.
(3) Supreme Court decisions are overturning New Deal programs.
(4) New Deal programs emphasize health care reforms.
Base your answers to questions 29 and 30 on the song lyrics below and on your knowledge of social studies.
Dust Storm Disaster
On the 14th day of April of 1935, There struck the worst of dust storms that ever filled the sky. You could see that dust storm comin', the cloud looked deathlike black, And through our mighty nation, it left a dreadful track.... The storm took place at sundown, it lasted through the night, When we looked out next morning, we saw a terrible sight. We saw outside our window where wheat fields they had grown Was now a rippling ocean of dust the wind had blown. It covered up our fences, it covered up our barns, It covered up our tractors in the wild and dusty storm. We loaded our jalopies and piled our families in, We rattled down that highway to never come back again.
—Woody Guthrie 29 Which region of the United States was most directly affected by the situation described in this song?
(1) Southeast
(2) Great Lakes
(4) Pacific Northwest 30 These song lyrics were written about people who became
(1) sharecroppers in the South
(2) migrant farm workers on the West Coast
(3) fishermen in New England
(4) coal miners in the Ohio River valley 31 Passage of the Social Security Act (1935) helped American workers by
(1) creating jobs for the unemployed
(2) guaranteeing a minimum wage
(3) legalizing the right to join labor unions
(4) providing financial assistance after retirement Base your answer to question 32 on the cartoon below and on your knowledge of social studies. 32 Which statement most accurately expresses the main idea of the cartoon?
(1) President Franklin D. Roosevelt should limit the powers of Congress.
(2) Actions by President Franklin D. Roosevelt threaten American democracy.
(3) President Franklin D. Roosevelt is more powerful than European dictators.
(4) The Supreme Court is helping President Franklin D. Roosevelt reorganize his administration.
33 The primary purpose of the National Labor Relations Act of 1935 (Wagner Act) was to
(1) allow factory owners to use court injunctions against workers
(2) guarantee collective bargaining rights
(3) establish the Social Security system
(4) ban the use of strikes by unions
"Harding Rejects Wilson's Foreign Policy—Wants Return to 'Normalcy'"
"Hoover Calls for 'Rugged Individualism'; Rejects Paternalism and Socialism"
Which policy of Republican presidents in the 1920s is most consistent with the positions stated in these headlines?
(1) The United States should assist unions and provide old-age insurance.
(2) The United States should acquire and protect an empire.
(3) The federal government should support the poor and raise farm prices.
(4) The federal government should assist business and limit foreign commitments.
35 Gibbons v. Ogden (1824), United States v. E. C. Knight Co. (1895), and Schechter Poultry Corporation
v. United States (1935) are all Supreme Court cases dealing with
(1) presidential power during wartime
(2) federal authority to regulate interstate commerce
(3) protection of students' religious freedom


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kneat.com, inc. Signs Leading Logistics Supplier
HALIFAX, November 14, 2018/CNW/ – kneat.com, inc. (TSX-V: KSI) ("Kneat") is pleased to announce it has signed a multi-year, global contract with one of the largest logistics suppliers in the world. This new customer will implement Kneat's software as a service ('SaaS') platform to enable a compliant, paperless process for its computer systems validation ("CSV") activities in the life sciences industry. Kneat's software supports Pharmaceutical Good Distribution and Manufacturing Practices ("GDP and GMP") regulations to validate all computer systems used within our customer's life sciences operations. Implementation will start immediately at a strategic location in the United States with go-live expected in the second quarter of 2019.
"Our new customer will utilize Kneat's platform to implement a best-in-class, compliant solution in an efficient and cost-effective manner to meet regulatory standards," said Eddie Ryan, Chief Executive Officer of Kneat. "The importance of data integrity and compliance impacts the entire supply chain to the life sciences industry. We look forward to working with this global leader to transform the way their CSV is executed."
Kneat continues to expand its customer pipeline and will report on further developments as they occur.
About Kneat
Kneat, develops and markets the next generation Kneat Gx software platform. Multiple business processes can be configured on the platform from equipment to computer system validation, through to production record execution and quality document management. Kneat Gx allows users to author, review, approve, execute testing online, manage any exceptions and post approve final deliverables in a controlled FDA 21 CFR Part 11/ Eudralex Annex 11 compliant platform. Macro and micro report dashboards enable powerful oversight into all systems, projects and processes world wide. Customer case studies are reporting productivity improvements in excess of 100% and a higher compliance standard. For more information visit www.kneat.com.
Cautionary and Forward-Looking Statements
Except for the statements of historical fact contained herein, certain information presented constitutes "forward-looking information" within the meaning of applicable Canadian securities laws. Such forward-looking information, includes, but is not limited to, the relationship between Kneat and the customer, the Company's business development activities, the use of Kneat within the customer's manufacturing process, the ability to scale the use of Kneat within the customer and the compliance of the Kneat Gx platform under regulatory audit and inspection. While such forward-looking statements are expressed by the Company, as stated in this release, in good faith and believed by the Company to have a reasonable basis, they are subject to important risks and uncertainties. As a result of these risks and uncertainties, the events predicted in these forward-looking statements may differ materially from actual results or events. These forward-looking statements are not guarantees of future performance, given that they involve risks and uncertainties. The Company does not undertake any obligation to release publicly revisions to any forward-looking statement, except as may be required under applicable securities laws. Investors should not assume that any lack of update to a previously issued forward-looking statement constitutes a reaffirmation of that statement. Continued reliance on forward-looking statements is at an investors' own risk.
Neither the TSX Venture Exchange nor its Regulation Services Provider (as that term is defined in policies of the TSX Venture Exchange) accepts responsibility for the adequacy or accuracy of this release.
For further information: Sarah Oliver, CFO, kneat.com, inc., 2001-1969 Upper Water Street, Halifax, NS, B3J 3R7, T: +353 61 203826, E: firstname.lastname@example.com

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Jul 09, 2021 - 07:18 AM
The answer is, it may, or it may not. we don't guarantee any Kwikee replacement parts for steps manufactured prior to 1999. If we have any step motor that would work, it would be 379608 per Lippert.
Do you have the same question? Follow this Question
Jul 09, 2021 - 07:18 AM
View all Kwikee 379608 Step Motor Replacement Kit For Pre-IMGL Questions & Answers


text:
Metallica - Kill 'Em All
play / listen download rar
Side one
1. "Hit the Lights" 4:17
2. "The Four Horsemen" 7:13
3. "Motorbreath" Hetfield 3:08
4. "Jump in the Fire" 4:42
5. "(Anesthesia) - Pulling Teeth" (instrumental) 4:15
6. "Whiplash" 4:09
Side two
7. "Phantom Lord" 5:02
8. "No Remorse" 6:27
9. "Seek & Destroy" 6:56
10. "Metal Militia" 5:11
Total length: 51:20
Kill 'Em All is the debut studio album by the American heavy metal band Metallica, released on July 25, 1983, by the independent record label Megaforce Records. Kill 'Em All is regarded as a groundbreaking album for thrash metal because of its precise musicianship, which fuses new wave of British heavy metal riffs with hardcore punk tempos. The album's musical approach and lyrics were markedly different from rock's mainstream of the early 1980s and inspired a number of bands who followed in similar manner.
The album did not enter the Billboard 200 until 1986, when it peaked at number 155, following Metallica's commercial success with its third studio album Master of Puppets; the 1988 Elektra reissue peaked at number 120. Kill 'Em All was critically praised at the time of its release and in retrospect, and was placed on a few publications' best album lists. It was certified 3× Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) in 1999 for shipping three million copies in the United States. The album generated two singles: "Whiplash," and "Jump in the Fire".
Metallica is an American heavy metal band. The band was formed in 1981 in Los Angeles by vocalist/guitarist James Hetfield and drummer Lars Ulrich, and has been based in San Francisco for most of its career. The band's fast tempos, instrumentals and aggressive musicianship made them one of the founding "big four" bands of thrash metal, alongside Megadeth, Anthrax and Slayer. Metallica's current lineup comprises founding members and primary songwriters Hetfield and Ulrich, longtime lead guitarist Kirk Hammett, and bassist Robert Trujillo. Guitarist Dave Mustaine (who went on to form Megadeth after being fired from the band) and bassists Ron McGovney, Cliff Burton (who died in a bus accident in Sweden in 1986) and Jason Newsted are former members of the band.
Metallica earned a growing fan base in the underground music community and won critical acclaim with its first five albums. The band's third album, Master of Puppets (1986), was described as one of the heaviest and most influential thrash metal albums. Its eponymous fifth album, Metallica (1991), the band's first to root predominantly in heavy metal, appealed to a more mainstream audience, achieving substantial commercial success and selling over 16 million copies in the United States to date, making it the best-selling album of the SoundScan era. After experimenting with different genres and directions in subsequent releases, the band returned to its thrash metal roots with the release of its ninth album, Death Magnetic (2008), which drew similar praise to that of the band's earlier albums.
Metallica Band Members / Musicians
James Hetfield – lead vocals, rhythm guitar (1981–present)
Kirk Hammett – lead guitar, backing vocals (1983–present)
Robert Trujillo – bass, backing vocals (2003–present)
Lars Ulrich – drums, percussion (1981–present)
Former members
Dave Mustaine – lead guitar, backing vocals (1982–1983)
Ron McGovney – bass, backing vocals (1982)
Cliff Burton – bass, backing vocals (1982–1986; died 1986)
Jason Newsted – bass, backing vocals (1986–2001)
Bob Rock – bass, backing vocals (2001–2003)
Metallica Discography Full - Studio albums
Kill 'Em All (1983)
Ride the Lightning (1984)
Master of Puppets (1986)
...And Justice for All (1988)
Metallica (1991)
Load (1996)
Reload (1997)
St. Anger (2003)
Death Magnetic (2008)
Hardwired... to Self-Destruct (2016)


text:
For car owners, the maintenance of your vehicle is not only a matter of pride but a critical factor in ensuring the longevity and optimal performance of your cherished automobile. Among the various aspects of car maintenance, one crucial element that often escapes attention is the regular change and use of lubricants.
Lubricants play a pivotal role in the well-being of your vehicle's engine. They serve to reduce friction between moving parts, prevent wear and tear, dissipate heat, and contribute to overall engine efficiency. Without proper lubrication, your engine becomes susceptible to damage, leading to costly repairs and a shortened lifespan.
To keep your engine running smoothly, it is imperative to adhere to a consistent lubricant change schedule. The frequency of oil changes depends on several factors, including the type of oil used, driving conditions, and the manufacturer's recommendations. In Uganda, where the climate can be diverse, and road conditions vary, it is advisable to change your lubricants every 5,000 to 7,500 kilometres or as recommended by your vehicle's manufacturer.
When considering lubricants, one brand that has earned the trust of car enthusiasts worldwide is Shell Helix. Renowned for its high-quality lubricants designed to meet the specific needs of modern engines, Shell Helix ensures optimal performance and protection.
Recent statistics proudly name Shell as the world's top lubricant supplier for an impressive 16 years in a row, with Shell Helix leading as the best premium lubricant. Shell Helix has consistently demonstrated superior performance in various driving conditions. Independent tests reveal that Shell Helix lubricants exhibit enhanced engine cleanliness, reduced wear and tear, and improved fuel efficiency compared to competitors. These statistics underscore the brand's commitment to providing top-notch lubrication for your vehicle.
Shell Helix offers a diverse range of lubricants tailored to different driving conditions and engine types. Whether you are navigating the bustling city streets of Kampala or tackling the challenging terrains of rural Uganda, Shell Helix has a variant that suits your car's specific requirements.


text: ON A KNIFE'S EDGE by JoAnn Baca (originally published in the 2015 con zine) Catherine finally had the blood staunched and Vincent's wound bound, and she could take a deep breath. She had ruthlessly banished her emotions before, when she knew she needed all her composure, but now her hands began to shake, and she trembled with the fear she could no longer suppress. Taking several more deep, calming breaths, she closed her eyes and reminded herself that they were both alive…no matter what had almost happened. She clung to the word as a mantra: alive…alive. Alive. Its significance overshadowed what had gone before - the surprise, the confusion, the panic, the blood. For a moment she couldn't deflect the images which flooded through her once again. When her mind finally ceased skittering around the edges of hysteria and she could begin to assemble rational thoughts again, she opened her eyes and took in the aftermath. Here in the gloom of the deeper tunnels, long months past Winterfest, torches burned intermittently. They had been walking these passageways with a lantern, not able to depend on consistent illumination on their way. Even where occasional torches glowed, their flames flickered, wavering, tormented by updrafts here, so close to the stairs to the Great Hall and the wind which constantly scoured them. The irregularly spaced torches cast weird, distorted shadows, and someone walking these paths alone would have had difficulty finding their way. Where she and Vincent were now, the faint glow of torchlight barely penetrated, only the glimmer of their lantern's light pushing back the darkness. Spying a cache of unlit torches in a side tunnel, Catherine rose from Vincent's side and brought them back to where he lay. She fixed them nearby, safely situated between boulders, and lit them from their lantern. Now she could view his injuries more clearly. She itched to call for help, but she feared leaving him by himself while she sought out a pipe – so few lines reached this far down. Not knowing if their attacker had been alone or with others, Vincent was too vulnerable to leave while he was unconscious. She was taking a big enough risk of discovery just lighting the torches. Coming back to the recumbent form of the man who had saved her life yet again, she pulled away the cloak she had used to cover him and checked the bandaging on his left arm. Her hands would not stop trembling, and her stomach roiled, knowing she knelt in dirt that was mixed with his blood. But she forced herself to concentrate, noting with relief that the bleeding hadn't resumed while she had been lighting the torches. Satisfied she had done her best with the limited supplies she had with her, she began to study his face. Deep furrows between his brows spoke of the tension within him, even in his unconscious state. Her heart constricted painfully at the sight. His unconsciousness worried her gravely. She feared he had a concussion, and was anxious to check the dilation of his pupils. She was concerned too about his blood loss. It was imperative that he drink water soon, to help him stabilize. She shook the canteen they had brought with them to ensure there was more than enough for him to slake his thirst when he finally woke up. A heavy sigh gusted from her lips. All she could think of was how close she had come to losing him. Right before her eyes. In that moment, everything that had mattered in her life before had fallen away, leaving only him. He was her world. And her world had nearly been shattered, destroyed. She drew in a shaky breath and bent to him, whispering into his ear that she loved him, that she was so grateful to him, that she needed him back with her, that she needed him…always. Then she pressed a kiss upon his lightly bristled cheek. In a small part of her mind, she was surprised to find that the short whiskers there were not rough and scratchy as she'd sometimes imagined, but soft, almost like velvet. That unexpected sensation intrigued her despite her worry for him, and timidly she nuzzled against his cheek, savoring the delicious texture. This was not something he would ever allow her when conscious, though, and she couldn't take advantage of this unique situation…much as she'd like to. So, albeit unwillingly, she pulled away. But she couldn't help just…looking at him, gratefully watching his chest rise and fall, testimony to the life that still filled him. It so nearly had been otherwise. She'd had to rip his chambray shirt to pieces for bandaging - her own pullover sweater not being appropriate for the task. Now his bare upper torso was no more than a foot from her curious eyes. Even wounded, dirty and bloodied, he was incredible to see. And a madman with a knife had almost taken all this beauty from the world…from her. She observed him admiringly – the deeply chiseled musculature, the dusting of fur across his shoulders, upper arms and sides, the thicker covering of hair upon his forearms and chest and tracing downwards towards his navel. Even relaxed, his massive shoulders, rock-hard biceps, well-defined abdominals, and sculpted pectorals were a sight to behold. His torso, undressed, was - the words poured into her mind - imposing, splendid, majestic. She thought that few men could manage to look as good both in…and out…of their clothes. Then something caught her eye: a long, slender scar on his right shoulder where the fur was only lightly sprinkled. It marred the smooth perfection of that part of him, and the sight of it distressed her. If he had one…. As she inspected him more closely, gently stroking aside fur to do so, other scars revealed themselves on his arms and torso – some ragged, as if the flesh had been torn and healed untended, some obviously sutured closed. Today he had only added to the count. She realized with sudden insight that his life had not only been a lonely and arduous one, it had also contained great peril – and not all of it in defense of her. A phrase from a movie bubbled up into her conscious mind: So much pain. Yes, he had endured much. His body was a testament to the battles he had fought, the physical suffering he had undergone. It was amazing that one body could absorb so much abuse, take all that pain, and yet still be as beautiful as his undeniably was. Thinking of both the beauty and the pain, Catherine brushed her lips reverently against each patch of scar-knit skin. As she did, the tears which had welled in her eyes as she'd contemplated the evidence of the injuries he'd borne spilled over, baptizing his scarred flesh. Warm kisses splashed with hot tears were pressed time and again upon his chest, his ribs, his biceps – anywhere and everywhere she found that mute testimony to the frailty of skin and bone. She could never make up for all he had endured, but she made a silent promise to love away the memory of the pain and the anguish of the bloody encounters he'd suffered through, until his spirit was cleansed and free of the remembered torment. She couldn't erase the scars on his body, but she hoped and prayed she would be able to do that for his mind. A kind of tickling warmth broke through the haze of Vincent's rising consciousness. Still lost in confusion, he felt gentle movement against his chest. One large hand reached up shakily, encountering a sweater-clad back. His eyes fluttered open once then closed again. Disoriented, he lay in a stupor, his hand lying heavily against the shoulder of…someone. Someone? He tensed. Then the well-remembered scent of his beloved filled his nostrils and he relaxed as he found a name: Catherine. The pain hit him a scant moment later, and he winced. He wanted to sink back into oblivion and leave the pain behind, but that would mean leaving the woman he loved behind, and he didn't want to do that. He struggled with consciousness, wavering between wakefulness and the blessed relief of the black void from which he had just emerged. "Vincent?" The voice of the angel of his dreams melted against his heart. Did she know what the sound of his name on her lips did to him? Every time she uttered it, he wanted to die of happiness. She caressed it as it played across her lips. It made him imagine what those lips might do if he ever let them touch his own. So soft…so supple…so enticing…. "Vincent, if you can hear me, open your eyes?" There was that voice, once more issuing its siren call. He wanted to respond, to kneel before it, to worship it. He wanted the benediction of that voice to fall upon him always. But even in the fog of disorientation and pain, he knew he had no right to ask anything of that voice. It did not belong to him…not in any way. No matter if it said it did, he could not allow it. Would not allow it. But he would obey it, through anything, everything…he would always obey its summons, even when spoken only from the heart. His right hand closed upon her shoulder, lightly squeezing it. Catherine leaned in to whisper in his ear once more. "Come back to me! Please, Vincent. Come all the way back." Suddenly his eyelids snapped open and alertness returned in a rush. Vincent took in his surroundings, noting he was lying uncomfortably on a relatively flat stone surface, a rough cavern wall directly beside him. Catherine's face was hovering close. The ambient air raised goose flesh on his arms, making him aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt….if the fact that he could feel her small hands pressed warmly upon the bare skin of his sides hadn't already informed him. The cool air made him shiver…or was it Catherine's touch which caused the trembling? Catherine saw the look of confusion, mixed with panic, as it filled Vincent's eyes. His eyes. Even in the distorted light of the tunnel, she almost felt the blueness of them. He had such compelling eyes. She always found it so easy to become lost in them. Sometimes it was a struggle to listen to him speak and then formulate a response when all she really wanted was to concentrate on what those eyes were telling her, to fall into their sapphire depths. For rarely did his speech and his eyes agree. Usually, his conversation treaded on "safe" topics – Tunnel news, innocuous matters - while those eyes spoke a language of their own, one of devotion, of desire, of delight in her presence. She longed to hear the voice of his eyes. She yearned to answer what that voice mutely asked. With difficulty, Catherine tore herself from her rapt contemplation and re-focused on the situation they were in. Relief blossomed in her heart even as she forced discipline to the forefront of her mind. She had information he needed to hear right now. "We seem safe for now. There may only have been one intruder. Whoever attacked us is…gone." Vincent struggled to rise to a sitting position. Catherine leaned back on her heels to allow him to move freely. His back still rested against hard stone, but at least he was no longer lying on it. He shook his head once, sharply, trying to clear the last of the cobwebs away, to allow the memories to come flooding back. The movement made him grimace. He tried to speak but his mouth was too dry, and he accepted the canteen from Catherine, grateful for the cool water. Vague recollections coalesced around one image. In a pain-roughened voice, he responded, fighting for words as well as memories, "His knife?" Catherine stood and surveyed the area, finally bending over to retrieve a razor-sharp stiletto-like weapon which was protruding from a crack in a nearby boulder. Blood marred its tip. "Here it is," she remarked, gingerly handing the knife to Vincent. He regarded it solemnly then nodded. After folding it and laying it on the ground, he placed one hand against the rock wall and the other on the ground, attempting to stand. His legs felt rubbery, his characteristic grace absent as he staggered upright. Catherine rose and rushed forward to catch him before he fell. He landed heavily against the wall, but she kept him from tumbling to the ground. Together they controlled his descent until he was back sitting on the flat rock. "Maybe it's best if you stay seated. You've lost a lot of blood, and your head struck a rock during your fight. You went down hard and have been unconscious for a while." Vincent fought the wave of nausea that threatened him. His head was spinning from the effort of attempting to rise. Perhaps Catherine was right and he should sit quietly for a moment. "I didn't want to call attention to our location if other intruders were in the Tunnels. But now that you're awake, I need to get help to move you," she told him, the delay in calling for assistance making her feel guilty even as she realized she had done her best in an unknown situation. Vincent put out his hand to stay her before she turned away. "Don't leave me. Not yet. I know I need help but…I just need you right now. Just you." It seemed an effort for him to form the words. Seeing him wince after speaking, Catherine fell silent, kneeling beside him once more. If he needed some time to recover his equilibrium before she summoned help, she would do her best to be patient. Vincent closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the unforgiving stone. Catherine retrieved the cloak and tucked it around him. A moment later, he felt her hand on his cheek, brushing at the tangled mass of hair which partially obscured his face. But even after she had smoothed it back, she continued to stroke it, quietly communing with him, touching him as much to reassure herself as him. Long minutes passed in silence. But Catherine's self-control was tottering; she could smell the blood – his blood – through his bandages, and it worried her more and more, until finally she tugged the cloak down so she could check his bandages again and satisfy herself that he was in no further danger after his abortive attempt to rise. But once more seeing the effects of the damage done to him, she could no longer keep her emotions in check. Catherine wrapped her arms around Vincent, a sob filling her throat. She choked out the words. "You…could have been killed." A hand reached up to capture one of hers and hold it to his heart. She could feel the strong beat there as he replied, "But I wasn't." "No thanks to me," she replied grimly. Vincent frowned. He wasn't entirely certain of the sequence of events. He recalled only the man, the knife, the struggle...and little enough of that. As for what Catherine was implying…. Belatedly, he realized that the cloak was no longer covering him. But he was warm enough with Catherine's arms wrapped around him. He knew he should push her away and cover himself with his cloak again, but it felt so good to have her this close for a little while. He realized his mind was wandering though, and he tried to focus. What had occurred exactly? He could not pull details from his scrambled brain. He had to ask, "What happened? I only remember the knife." Catherine took a deep, shuddering breath. "You were taking me to the Great Hall to look at the tapestries. A man came down the passageway, running at us with a knife, screaming, incoherent. You pushed me behind you and grappled with him. He stabbed at your arm then sliced right through your vest. You shoved him backwards, and he stumbled. Then he…he turned and fell into the Abyss. I heard a sharp yelp, then…nothing. When I looked, he was just…gone." Vincent sat quietly, matching the snippets of his dazed memory with the version Catherine had related. He was trying to figure out how he was knocked unconscious. But Catherine wasn't finished. Reluctantly, she took her arms from around him so she could look him in the eyes. Embarrassed, she added, "As you stepped back, you…tripped over me." His eyes widened and she felt a hot blush steal over her face. "I was trying to stay out of your way, but the footing here is uneven, and the Abyss so close…. You fell backwards and hit your head hard on that outcropping." She pointed behind him with her chin, and Vincent turned his head to see the jutting edge of rockface which matched the sizeable lump he could feel on the back of his head. Her lower lip began to tremble and she bit it savagely to stop herself from betraying how shaky the whole experience had left her. It didn't matter though; Vincent felt the surge of panic-laden anxiety pour through their Bond as she spoke and knew how deeply affected she was. Gamely, she went on. "I couldn't revive you. There was blood…everywhere. I tore off your vest, which was hanging off you already, but I think its thickness saved you; the knife didn't even graze your chest. Your arm wasn't so lucky though, with only your shirt protecting it. The laceration was bleeding heavily; your shirt sleeve was soaked through. I tore off your shirt to make strips to bind your arm, then used your undershirt and the vest to wipe up the blood and clean your wound as best I could. They're a soggy mess…" Her voice finally lost its power, and she was no longer able to disguise the distress she'd felt in the aftermath of the attack. "Thank you, Catherine," he said, sighing, immensely grateful for the cool head she exhibited in the situation, which had likely saved him from going into shock as the result of blood loss. Any embarrassment he felt over his torso being bare was minimized by the knowledge that she had stripped him trying to save his life. Vincent opened his good arm wide to her, and Catherine fell into his embrace. As she sank against him, he marveled at how warm she was, and how yielding her body where it pressed close to him. All he wanted now was to let her comfort him and to comfort her in turn. When she was with him in the Home Tunnels, he always wished it could be just the two of them. Yet rarely could they ever escape the loving presence of his family for long. Tonight they had planned a rare evening alone to take a leisurely look at the wall hangings in the gallery of the Great Hall…free from prying eyes, from well-meaning interruptions, from danger…yet danger had found them, even here. He bent to rest his cheek against the crown of her head, trying to shut the pain out. The answering pressure of her arms let him know she welcomed the embrace, was content to be held close. But although he could, for the moment, ignore the discomfort of his aching head and slashed arm, he couldn't disregard the apprehension he felt in Catherine for his well-being. With a sigh, he relinquished his hold on her. "I'll send a message for assistance now?" she asked. "Yes." He attempted a reassuring smile, which he feared looked more like a grimace as another wave of nausea hit him. Seeing his face, Catherine rose swiftly. She lifted the cloak around him again then, grabbing a heavy rock from the ground, she headed up the passageway in the direction of the nearest convergence of pipes. There she began tapping out her message, switching pipes to ensure someone would hear and respond. When she was satisfied that she had relayed their location sufficiently for help to find them, she returned to Vincent. He was half-sitting, half-lying just as she'd left him, the cloak once again pooled in his lap. "They're coming." She sat cross-legged on the ground beside him, reaching for his good hand and weaving her fingers through his. "How is your head?" "I've felt better," he admitted drily. He grimaced as he moved his injured arm, testing it. "This hurts worse." "It will need a lot of stitches," Catherine replied, grim-faced. She lifted the cloak, which didn't seem to want to stay tucked around him, and once more attempted to slide it up and over his bare torso. To ensure it stayed put, she knelt and shifted herself until she draped one arm around his shoulders, lightly holding the wool and suede cloak in place. Catherine's relief that Vincent was awake and cogent took expression in a moment of puckish humor. "This isn't going to get you out of taking me to see the tapestries one day soon," she warned him, a stern expression on her face belied by the humor in her eyes. "They mean that much to you?" He echoed her mock-serious tone, trying his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his arm. "Well…" She sighed, abandoning the banter. "Actually, I was looking forward to some time alone with you. Not that I don't love visiting with your family. I do enjoy their company. But sometimes…." She rested her head against his uninjured shoulder. "Sometimes I want…I need to be with you…just you." Vincent considered her words, which reflected his own thoughts precisely. He tilted his head and lowered his gaze before admitting, "I feel the same way." Catherine hid her surprise at his frank admission, so uncharacteristic of him. She would have said more, but at that moment her eyes strayed to the knife, folded now and no danger to them. A flashback took her breath like a punch in the stomach. "How do you deal with it?" she asked, meaning not just this incident, but all the violence he had encountered in defense of her and his family Below. "How do you reconcile what you need to do and the…the aftermath." Today, she knew, they had been spared some of that "aftermath" – the crazed intruder had dispatched himself into the Abyss. No one could have found his body, even had they wanted to perform a burial ritual for him. Vincent gazed off into a distance which was not part of the passageway he was looking down. For a moment he did not speak. Finally, he said, "What must be done is done. I know intellectually I have no choice. Emotionally…I struggle, often, with my actions. Defensive or not, the violence, the darkness I go into to fuel my actions…these things mark my soul in ways I cannot describe." Catherine shuddered, but refused to shy away from the hard questions. "Does it get in the way? I mean, of how you allow yourself to feel about others? About…me? Does what you have done…like this…for me…make you love me less?" His reaction was immediate. "No. You are precious to me. As my family is, as my world is. Love fuels me. Love makes those actions worth the sacrifice. There is a cost, but I gladly pay it to keep you all safe." "You love us all that much," she murmured, awed. "I…I love you that much and more, Catherine," he admitted. "Without you…there is nothing. So how could I do less than fight with everything I am to keep you safe?" He picked up the folded knife and hefted it. "This is just one of many weapons that have been raised against me. If it's not the last…." He shrugged one shoulder and threw the knife with unerring accuracy and amazing strength far into the darkness of the Abyss. "You get very little back for all you sacrifice." The observation came out of her mouth before she fully realized she was saying it aloud. Vincent turned to her. "You have opened the world to me. You must believe that." She snorted. "No, not really. Things between us…." She struggled to find the words, and when she did, they were bitter. "You're like a child with your nose pressed to a store window, looking inside at all the toys. You can see them but you can't touch them, can't play with them. They…they are a tease. That's the world I've opened for you." Vincent contemplated her meaning. "That is my choice. You have left the door open. It is I who have not chosen to walk through it." Smiling, she replied, "That's true. You can have all the toys you want, anytime, Vincent." He laughed, and so did she. He fell quiet and for a time they didn't speak. Then he leaned his shoulder against hers in a gentle nudge, and she lifted her head to look at him again. The gaze which greeted her when she did so was one of such profound adoration that she blushed from it. At that moment, Catherine felt as if, finally, he might make a move toward love. His eyes betrayed his intense passion for her, and for once, he didn't try to hide it. He leaned closer, until she could feel his hot breath upon her lips, and she felt his good arm reach around to press her close. She didn't move, didn't breathe even, afraid any movement of hers might break the spell and cause him to reconsider what it seemed obvious he was about to do. Slowly his mouth descended toward hers. She could feel the blood rushing to her ears, sense her heart fluttering madly in her breast. She closed her eyes, awaiting the imminent pressure of those intriguing lips on hers. The Bond quivered and vibrated between them, twin desires reaching for fulfillment…. A shout from the passageway shocked them into stillness. Catherine's eyelids flew open, and her startled green eyes found their reflection in profoundly blue ones. Almost guiltily, Vincent dropped his arm from around her, and Catherine sat back on her heels, so that when the voice's owner shuffled into view mere seconds later, more than a foot separated the erstwhile lovers. "Was close…heard the message." Mouse panted as he shambled to a stop before them. Concern screwed his face into a mask of confusion as he took in the scene: Vincent, half-dressed, bloodied, bandaged…and Catherine, blood-spattered herself. "What…?" Catherine rose and grabbed the young man's arm. "Someone attacked us. Vincent's hurt. Can you help me get him to his feet?" Mouse nodded. He crouched and got his shoulder under Vincent's good one, then slowly lifted. With Catherine helping and Vincent leaning against the tunnel wall, they got him unsteadily to his feet. Catherine snaked an arm around Vincent's waist, and together she and Mouse got about twenty yards down the tunnel with Vincent before pounding feet heralded the arrival of more assistance. Catherine and Mouse relinquished their spots by his side as stronger shoulders made light of their burden, and Vincent was rapidly carried upright to the Hub. Catherine ran back to retrieve Vincent's cloak before following the others then carried it wrapped in her arms, hugging it tightly as she walked. In less time than she would have thought possible, they arrived at the hospital chamber. Vincent protested, not wanting to be cared for in its relatively sterile atmosphere, insisting on being taken to his own chamber instead. Father, who had been waiting with instruments at the ready, shot Vincent a baleful look before packing up his black bag and following the small procession through the tunnels to their new destination. Catherine heated water and found clean cloths at Father's direction, then related the incident as Father inspected Vincent's wounds. He had tried to ask her to wait outside, but that hadn't met with any more luck than trying to convince Vincent to stay in the infirmary, especially with his son insisting that Catherine remain beside him. Pursing his lips in disapproval, he had gone about his doctoring, listening with growing horror as Catherine described what had happened. "How is it possible that an intruder made it that far into the tunnels with no one the wiser?" He was aghast at the apparent breakdown in their sentry grid. Something would have to be done, shifts rearranged, sentries re-trained. Obviously, they had grown too lax. No one added more to the conversation. Father finished attending to Vincent in silence. Finally he rinsed his hands and dried them off. "I suggest you rest now, Vincent." He looked pointedly at Catherine. "And you, my dear, should return Above." He turned back to Vincent. "I intend to call an emergency Council meeting immediately to discuss this horrendous situation." Without waiting to see if either of them would obey his edicts, he exited the chamber, outrage in every line of his body. Catherine expelled a long breath after he left. "He can be a whirlwind when he sets his mind to it!" She smiled broadly at Vincent, immeasurably relieved that Father had determined that the ragged gash on Vincent's arm would heal nicely despite thirty stitches, that he didn't seem to have a concussion, and that the bump on his head would only be an inconvenience, not a problem. After rinsing the last of the cloths, she picked up the basin of blood-tinged water. Vincent made to rise from the bed, obviously intending to assist her, but she fixed him with a look that stopped him cold. "Don't…you…dare! Do you want Father to come in here after me? Stay in bed. I'm perfectly capable of carrying this bowl of water myself." She made quick work of it, then retrieved the robe made from worn Indian blankets from Vincent's wardrobe. "Do you think it would help if you draped this over your shoulders? Hopefully it will stay put better than your cloak did. I suspect sliding a shirt on would be too painful right now." He nodded, grateful, and rose. She held the robe out and he bent down, allowing her to rest it upon his shoulders. After slipping his right arm through an armhole, he turned and she pulled the robe closed, cocooning his bandaged left arm inside. Then she gathered the belt and tied it tightly. Catherine expected that Vincent would return to his bed, but he remained standing, staring at her intently. His gaze was disconcerting, and Catherine gave him a quizzical look in return. "Would you like me to leave?" she offered, unsure what he wanted. Father had expected her to go back Above, and after all that had happened, that probably was best. She didn't want to leave him, though. She didn't want to leave him ever again. Vincent shook his head then reached out with one arm to offer her a hug. She didn't need to be invited twice; she closed the short gap between them and went into his embrace, nuzzling against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pressing as close as she dared without hurting him, she allowed the tension to drain from her body. But as she thought back over the events of the day, the terror of it again washed over her, through her. They could have died. Worse, she could have lost Vincent and spent the rest of her life mourning all that could have been, if only they had had more time. She began to cry softly, then to weep hard, then to sob nearly hysterically. Vincent held her close, silently, letting her release the emotions she had been suppressing. Long minutes passed, but finally her sobs subsided until only the occasional tear slipped from her tightly closed eyelids. She brushed at her cheeks with her fingers, wiping the remaining tears away. Then she reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a crumpled tissue, using it to blow her nose. When she felt she could speak, she lifted her head and said simply, "Thank you." A small smile quirked the corners of Vincent's unique mouth. "It was the least I could do, after all you've done for me today." She looked thoughtful, then an odd light entered her eyes. Emboldened, she remarked, "Well, if you really want to repay me, there is some…unfinished business from earlier…." His brow creased as he tried to recall what the "unfinished business" could be. "The visit to the tapestries? I promise, we'll go soon." She shook her head. "Not that." Her eyes glittered, hope filling them. He stared at her, perplexed. Perhaps the bump on his head had caused more memory disruption than he first thought. Then, with sudden insight, he realized what she was asking. That thought caused him to color a deep red, a blush so intense, it was visible to Catherine even against the warm golden tones of his face. "Oh…." Immediately regretting the impulse that had put him in an obviously uncomfortable position, she lowered her head and mumbled, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…." She didn't know how she'd been so bold, so reckless. Asking something like that of him, when they had never before…. She blushed herself, at her audacity. His index finger touched her chin, gently urging her to face him, and she lifted her head reluctantly. When she had the courage to look directly into his eyes, though, she saw with amazement that they were calm, no trace of embarrassment lingering. He tilted his head slightly, as if inspecting her cheek. His finger left her chin and traced its way to the scar near her ear. He stroked it gently, reverently. "You have scars, too, Catherine." She remembered the interval in the tunnel when she had honored his scars with kisses and tears. She had thought him unconscious, but apparently he recalled what she had done, the liberties she had taken – touching him so intimately, offering him the tenderness he had never allowed her to express to him in a conscious state. She was startled out of her reverie by the feel of his softly stubbled cheek rubbing against hers, of his lips searching for, then finding, her scar…of the achingly tender nuzzling that followed. Suddenly, Catherine forgot how to breathe. The languid movement of his unique lips caressing her scar, the warm breath exhaled against her ear, the mere thought of Vincent loving her in this way, all combined to set her heartbeat madly stuttering. She stood with eyes closed, savoring the experience, treasuring it. All too soon, she felt the cool tunnel air against her cheek as Vincent pulled away. A sharp stab of disappointment pierced her at the realization that this incredible intimacy was over. But now she had the memory of it to hold close, and that was so much more than she'd had when she woke up this morning. Thinking of that, she stood completely still, absorbing deep into her consciousness the so-recent sensation of his beloved lips against her skin. Vincent, overwhelmed by what he had done, felt her disappointment clearly through their Bond and, stunned, he realized the cause of her dismay was that he had stopped kissing her. Gazing at her upturned face – full lips trembling, lush eyelashes resting lightly upon her smooth, pink-tinged cheeks – he was struck anew by the delicate beauty of the woman he loved. Her posture…head flung back, neck arched…left her so exposed and vulnerable, yet she felt no trepidation. She offered all of herself to him so easily, as if he had the right to claim her, to love her as she deserved to be loved. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld her. Slowly, as if mesmerized, he bent over her, one arm slipping across her back to hold her close. Strands of his long, shaggy mane brushed against her skin. Before he was half aware of what he was doing, he felt his mouth pressed fervently to her throat, tasting her flesh where the pulse point throbbed, sensing her hot blood coursing beneath the skin. She made a small noise as his lips again touched her flesh - a soft sigh of relief, so slight it was almost imperceptible. Goosebumps rose all over her. His mouth was hot, searching; it grazed her skin as it traced down her throat to come to rest against the juncture of neck and shoulder. There he stayed, nuzzling, gently nipping her tender flesh, his hot breath tickling her skin. She wondered fleetingly if he could have known how sensitive she was in this particular spot; it was an erogenous zone which, when touched, made her squirm in delight. But he was doing so much more than merely touching right now. And what she felt in response was a melting, a clutching deep in her core, which caused her knees to weaken dangerously. Her exhilaration was contagious. Vincent felt it swirling through the Bond they shared, and his own mounting excitement suddenly soared, spiking into peaks of elation more profound than any he had known. The undoubted knowledge that he was giving her pleasure – no matter that his unusual lips were so different from other men's – bolstered his confidence at the exact moment he needed confirmation beyond what his eyes told him. Their Bond reflected Catherine's feelings in ways he could not define, but neither could he refuse to acknowledge. Death had been so close today – a knife's edge away. If he had died without this between them, how poor a life he would have lived. And how much more there could be. It took his breath away to discover he no longer cared about holding back, about giving Catherine the time and freedom to make a choice. The knife's edge had sliced right through that argument. There had been other times when life's blood had drained away – hers, his – or danger threatened them mortally. Why had it taken him so long to see that Fate might enter before he let himself make a move toward love? No longer. Fighting to keep from collapsing against him, knowing she might hurt his injured arm if she did, Catherine threw her arms about Vincent's neck, pulling him down closer to her. She whimpered her pleasure then burrowed with nose and lips into the golden glory of his unruly mane until she found the hidden ear she had been seeking. Eagerly, she nuzzled him, finding his earlobe and taking it tenderly between her teeth, nibbling on it as Vincent groaned deep in his throat. He shuddered and she smiled, thrilled she could give him a taste of what was waiting for him on the other side of any resistance he had left. Her hands drifted from his neck to capture his face between her warm, soft hands. She trailed her lips from his ear to his mouth, pressing worshipful kisses against the lips that had so recently brought her such bliss. His extraordinary upper lip – which she'd thought might be inflexible – was actually a pliant pad of flesh, incredibly soft to kiss. The delicate cleft in the center separated slightly with the pressure of her mouth, and when she flicked her tongue against it, tickling it lightly, Vincent's sharp inhalation of breath told her she had found a sensitive spot, one she should treat very gently. She nuzzled a moment longer there, stroking that slick pink sliver of flesh until she felt him shiver with a rapture he couldn't contain. She then centered her attentions on his full lower lip, the one that seemed to express his deepest emotions when they spoke – it quivered sometimes with the force of his desire or his compassion or his anguish. He never could hide his most intense feelings from her – Bond aside, all she had to do was watch that lower lip, and she would know. Now she sought to know it in another way. To imprint it on her mind, her heart, by loving it, by cherishing it without words. Taking it between her own lips, she ran her tongue across its length, glorying in its ripe lushness. When she pulled it lightly into her mouth, sucking it gently, the eroticism of the action drew another shudder from him. It pleased her to know she could affect him so deeply – he wasn't the only one who could cause trembling ripples of desire to cascade though their Bond! Vincent fought to keep from floating up through solid rock and into the stratosphere. Every touch, every kiss, was a discovery of such intensity, it threatened to undo him. These sensations were so exquisite, so astonishing. He reveled in the riot of emotion engulfing him, in the exotic surges of desire so foreign to him despite all the dreaming he had done, so compelling. He delighted in the sweet hot power of possibility which blossomed naked and glorious within his heart, and in the amazing awakening of a kind of fierce possessiveness which stunned him. But most amazing of all, the most unexpected part of this heavenly equation, was that Catherine was sharing herself with him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He wanted to fall to his knees and thank her for the simple act of treating him as just a man – something he had never been sure he truly was until now, with her. And it was equal parts relief and exultation. It took a moment for Vincent to realize that the dizziness he was feeling was not the result of the breathless kisses they were exchanging, but a delayed reaction to the injuries he had suffered earlier. Reluctantly, he pulled away, resting his forehead against Catherine's. "I don't want to…but I need to…." He didn't have to finish his sentence. Catherine understood and, instantly concerned, helped him into his bed. "Father was right, you need your rest," she murmured, stricken that she had forgotten this in the dazzling moments of intimacy they had shared. Vincent clutched her hand. "Your medicine is powerful, Catherine." He gave her a small smile even as his eyelids began to flutter closed. As the brazier crackled and the sound of a subway train echoed softly overhead, Catherine sat beside Vincent, holding the hand that had not let her go, even in slumber. Watching him sleep, her heart filled to overflowing with possibilities and promise. There might never be a day as eventful as this one in their lives again, but that was all right. Facing down death needn't happen again, they had experienced that too often already. And if the only scars either of them gained in the years ahead were from paper cuts, that would be all right too. As for what had happened here just now…that, Catherine felt sure, would be repeated…and expanded upon…in a variety of ways over the many days they would have together going forward. Something had given way today, something in Vincent. Resistance, argument, denial – all of them were gone now; they had expired at the point of a knife. There would be time ahead to discuss it, all of it. Time to discover what the life they were meant to have would encompass. Changes had occurred; more would be made. In the time to come, she was certain they would look back on this day as the turning point. If it seemed strange that she might one day be grateful for that knife-wielding madman, she would not worry too much about the dichotomy. Almost dying…this time…had given them both a new chance at life. |


text:
Rural household "My Memories"
Enjoy 1700 m2 of beautiful gardens and orchards.
Rural household "My Memories" is located in a small town Cortanovci in Srem, 65 km away from Belgrade, on the slopes of Fruska Gora mountain, a national park famous for its pleasant micro climate.
We offer you 4-stars accommodation in our house.
Our guests are being offered macrobiotic food from our kitchen made of selected organic fruit and vegetables, delicious low-calorie meals as well as traditional cuisine.
We also have a camping space with sanitary facilities.
You are welcome to bring your pets with you.
Welcome to "My Memories"!
Čortanovci, Nadkaraš 846 | |||
+381601800111, +381641174666 |


text:
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Many of us enjoy visiting Derbyshire's stunning stately homes over the festive period – but what's it actually like living in one at this special time of year? We speak with the custodians of some of our county's finest estates.
Lord and Lady Edward
What makes living at Haddon Hall so special at Christmas?
As Haddon is open to the public, the hall is always decorated beautifully for the festive season and we feel incredibly lucky to be able to enjoy it on a daily basis.
From twinkling lights to magnificent wreaths and Christmas trees in every room, the hall really comes to life at Christmas and it's a special place to be.
Is there a part of Haddon Hall you're particularly fond of at Christmas?
Over the centuries, the Banqueting Hall has always been, and still is, very much the heart of the home and that's definitely the case at Christmas.
With a spectacular tree, beautiful decorations and a roaring fire, it's where we meet with friends and family, sit to enjoy a mince pie, snuggle on the sofa in front of the fire and where we hang our stockings on Christmas Eve.
What does a typical Christmas day look like?
A typical Christmas Day at Haddon is very much focused on the children. They are still at the magical age of believing and first thing on Christmas morning, they rush to the Christmas tree in the Banqueting Hall to check if Father Christmas has been.
Every year, they focus on where Father Christmas will park his sleigh, and due to the restoration work that's taken place in recent years, we were able to say the scaffolding was the perfect parking spot.
Now that's gone, we may have to make a sign to redirect Father Christmas to make sure he still finds somewhere to land!
We don't put any presents under the tree until the children have gone to bed on Christmas Eve – so it's always wonderful to see their faces when they see the presents there on Christmas Day morning.
Our Christmas Day always involves a Panettone in the morning before church, a lovely walk to get some fresh air, and a long Christmas lunch. There's lots of family games and it's just wonderful to be able to spend some quality time together as a family.
We often have family from both sides over, so there's always lots of noise and laughter and a wonderful atmosphere.
There is only one downside to Christmas Day at Haddon, and that's the cold! There is no central heating in the hall so a lot of layers are required to stay warm – it's not unusual for us to sit eating our Christmas lunch with our coats on!
Are there any family traditions that take place over the Christmas period?
We have a lot of traditions in place that we've come to cherish in recent years. We always hang our stockings up on Christmas Eve, everyone in the family has one, including the dogs!
Every year we host a Christmas event for everyone involved with the Haddon estate. It's a lovely way to see everyone and ensure they know how much we appreciate their support and hard work over the course of the year.
We never cook a turkey for Christmas dinner (there actually isn't room in the oven for one!), we revert to medieval traditions and instead cook a lamb.
We're big believers in a traditional Christmas. We love to create an authentic experience for the children and hope we can keep the magic alive for them for as long as possible.
How do you balance the public and the private at Haddon over the festive season? It's a beautiful and popular place for people to visit but also a family home.
While Haddon is open to the public in the run-up to Christmas, we have two days where we close to visitors.
It gives us a chance to spend time together in the hall, we move our sofas into the Banqueting Hall and sit next to the fire and enjoy the calm and the quiet.
That being said, we love having people visit Haddon during the festive season. It's wonderful to see peoples' reactions to the decorations and we regularly host choir performances, which fill the hall with music.
Our candelight tours are also a lovely experience, giving visitors the chance to see the hall after dusk, when it takes on a totally different atmosphere.
It must be an amazing feeling knowing people have celebrated Christmases at Haddon for centuries. Do you follow a
Over the centuries, Christmas has been a wonderful time of year to be at Haddon, and it is truly humbling to think of all the people who have celebrated here before us, and the parties that must have taken place!
We're very proud that Haddon continues to be a place that people hold dear, and we look forward to welcoming them again this Christmas.
Alexandra Sitwell and Rick Hayward
What makes living at Renishaw Hall special at Christmas?
Renishaw lends itself very well to Christmas - full of surprises and intrigue and the house comes alive.
Is there a part of the hall you're particularly fond of at Christmas?
As one steps into the Front Hall one is immediately captivated by the atmosphere and excitement with the first big Christmas tree in all its splendour.
What does a typical Christmas day look like at Renishaw Hall?
Like all family Christmases a bit of chaos with lots of wrapping paper, celebration, shrieks of delight and champagne.
Are there any family traditions that take place at Renishaw Hall over the Christmas period?
Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve and Christmas stockings opened first thing before everyone then dresses up in their best for the opening of presents at midday.
This is followed by a big family Christmas lunch in the dining room. We'll definitely watch the Queen's - now King's - Speech on the TV in the library.
How do you balance the public and the private at Renishaw over the festive season?
We are very lucky as the house is 'dressed' for Christmas by Carrie-Anne, Christine Beevers and many of the guides and volunteers.
Our visitors love coming to see the house with fires lit in the Front Hall, Library and Drawing Room. It's all very atmospheric.
How traditional/modern do your Christmases tend to be?
We prefer a traditional Christmas. We also have a goose for Christmas lunch and then a flaming Christmas pudding followed by crackers.
Emma and Jim Harrison
What makes living at Thornbridge Hall special at Christmas?
Thornbridge comes even more alive at Christmas with the lights and rather strange decorations alongside the more traditional (for example we have skeletons sitting around one vast dining table waiting for a meal that never arrives!).
The best bit is all our visitors loving the house as much as we do. It's a fantastic time to share the stories of our home and a tradition is that our house tour visitors get to pinch my chocolates - just like my family and friends do!
Is there a part of Thornbridge Hall you're particularly fond of at Christmas?
The gold sitting room holds the most memories for me. It's where every year we sit as family and friends and do the presents. I have seen the children go from babies to adults in that room. So much ooohing and aaahhhing and 'thank yous'.
What does a typical Christmas day look like?
Chaos! We never know final numbers until we do - anyone might ring and say their plans have changed and they want to come us. We just squeeze up and tell David - my long-term friend who lives on the estate - that he is now cooking for about 35 people! He has a bit of a mumble, asks someone to pass him a beer, and cracks on.
Jim always takes charge of trying to lay a forever expanding table. I like to do the gravy. We do presents in the morning, with a glass of something, then Jim will make the best scrambled eggs – a bit of smoked salmon too.
Are there any family traditions that take place?
Family traditions include a whole series of ridiculous competitive made-up games.
Flying homemade paper aeroplanes across the gallery in the great hall; rolling malteasers down a long tape measure from the top of the gallery to the person (victim) lying on the hall floor where they try to catch the malteaser in their mouth. Oops. Often doesn't end well.
Not being allowed to dive into lunch until you have thrown a rubber duck against the gong is another and then Jim's quiz.
It's far ranging and legendary - and if you get caught cheating he burns all your answer sheets without even marking them. I know - it happened to me. I can still see him standing on the bar in the billiard room announcing the 'Flame of Shame'. It lit up the room!
How do you balance the public and the private at Thornbridge over the festive season?
We love people. I love interacting with folks, learning about them, hearing their stories, and I get to do that in my own home - that is perfect.
When any of us want alone time we just find a quiet corner and for me the distraction is a cryptic crossword. For Jim? Reading the papers and he loves to tidy and organise forgotten corners of the house.
How traditional/modern do your Christmases tend to be?
I don't know whether people would think our Christmases are traditional or modern - they just represent us - quirky and free from fuss. Right now, we're just doing 'our thing', which involves a lot of laughter and fun.
But who does the mountains of washing up? Our only rule is that it is everyone apart from David. Understandably by this time he is exhausted - physically and emotionally - and we applaud him for yet another spectacular Christmas Dinner and pass him another beer.
Oh, and as the night goes on there's always unregulated, incompetent dancing - mostly by me. My favourite time. Time to dance and embarrass the children. Christmas done.
Sir Richard and Lady Fiona Fitzherbert
What makes living at Tissington Hall special at Christmas?
Knowing that many generations of the FitzHerbert family have enjoyed Christmases at Tissington over the last 414 years since the hall was built in 1609 is an incredible feeling.
Is there a part of Tissington Hall you're particularly fond of at Christmas?
The Library is a special room with the tree, the presents, the vast history and of course the roaring log fire in the inglenook.
What does a typical Christmas day look like at Tissington Hall?
Up for breakfast and then church at St Mary's for 9.30/10am and a long walk (if the weather permits).
We'll possibly head to the Old Dog at Thorpe for a sharpener before returning to the Hall and the Dining Room for a long family lunch around 4pm – port and a zizz!
Are there any traditions that take place at Tissington Hall over the Christmas period?
My mother always used to eat the candles off the Christmas cake. From time to time, I follow that odd tradition!
What is life like in the village at Christmas?
Tissington is a special place and the community, if not meeting for the church service, is to be seen walking their dogs in the village and bumping into others.
We even get 'serial Christmas day visitors' who, despite none of our operations being open, walk or meet in Tissington to share the glory of Christmas Day.
Chris and Andi Harvey
We moved to Hopton Hall in February 2023 and are looking forward to our first Christmas here.
Living at Hopton Hall is special as we appreciate that we are surrounded by history and it's our responsibility to preserve it.
We are currently in the process of a large project with a team investigating and understanding the history of the hall as part of our plan to renovate and restore it.
Part of this is understanding the history of the Gell family at Hopton Hall and we hope to find more information about the way they made use of the Hall, including at Christmas.
Andi has always enjoyed decorating at Christmas. The entrance hall has high ceilings, so we will be adding a large tree to our collection. We are renovating the Hall so will only decorate a few of the main rooms.
One of these is the dining room that already had a large dining table. We will fill it with family and friends for Christmas dinner.
As we work in hospitality, we will spend a lot of the Christmas holiday working. When not working, we intend to make use of the bar that is part of the Hall to entertain friends over the Christmas period.
Before moving to Hopton, we only lived two miles away near Bradbourne. The friends we met there will be over for Christmas Day so we will be building new traditions at the Hall with old friends.
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Chair, School of Dental Sciences
Ms Ridilla earned a Master of Science in Health Sciences, University of Central Florida; a Bachelor of Arts in Technical/Vocational Education, University of Central Florida; and an Associate of Science in Dental Hygiene, Pensacola Junior College (now Pensacola State College).
Ms. Ridilla is currently serving as the Chairperson of the School of Dental Science. She has served in this position since 2001. She began her teaching career with DSC in January 1996, after practicing as a clinical dental hygienist for over fifteen years. Ms. Ridilla has obtained the rank of Senior Professor and currently teaches six courses in the dental hygiene program. She is actively involved with the Florida Dental Hygienists' Association and the Florida Special Olympics – Special Smiles.


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All choked up From Ground Zero to Iranian arms shipmenmts
January 16, 2002 The Iranian
This has been a season for choking. First, choking up, an emotional moment, the kind that begins with an irrepressible surging of a lump in the throat, the kind that will not subside until it has made the lips contort uncontrollably from a firm outline to a limp droop, a kind of choking grip that will not let go until it has exacted a squeal or grunt from its victim.
If there is any tear associated with the feeling, it is in great part for experiencing it. Last December, I visited Ground Zero and experienced feelings I knew I had but did not know how to define or when to expect them to surface.
In the icy morning air, the cab dropped me off on the Broadway side of the site. The spot apparently marked the place where the huge crowd mills about and then slowly begins its journey, with each person ending up in a different place by the end of it all. For one person, this is a part of a national memorial service, ongoing, where the personal journey mostly ends with the burial of the sense, forced or genuine, but dutiful obligation to visit, see, pay homage, and mourn.
For another person, this represents a pilgrimage of sorts, where the experience is rendered more holy not by an invasive scent of incense but of a lingering smell of a blend of charred materials, plaster and cement dust, and mildew. There is much repeat visits, too, by those who have vowed never to forget, never to rest.
I moved quickly passed the throng of three-man deep walls of visitors scrutinizing the panels of remembrance cluttering the sidewalks These make-shift shrines are decorated with messages, flowers, photographs, poems, letters, banners, flags, t-shirts, helmets, and other tributes to the fallen, the perished, and a country bruised. With all the solemnity that this engenders, it is amateur stuff when compared to the greater fix that one can get from getting closer to the wreckage.
The site itself is many city blocks wide as it is long. It took me more than one hour to walk around it at an inquisitive and reverend pace, probing as one might the breaches here and there in the drape-covered fences in order to catch a glimpse of the goings-on in the pit, where the crew continue to dig, lift, and haul remains, under the constant spray of water from a hose above. There is this inexplicable urge to get closer and closer to the pit, to become a part of the pit itself, the hearth, where there is life.
I had walked half way around the site, so far unimpressed but for the geographical size of the devastation. There was no excitement to speak of other than a black and somber-looking limousine streaking out of the site, with full police escort. I grimly asked the officer at the gate if the transport was a hearse, to which she replied that it was not; the motorcade belonged to the city officials who were checking out the site for tomorrow's mayoral ceremony there.
At this point I realized fully that the site was not a place of worship; it was a stadium, a place of spectacle, with as little solemnity to it as a spectator event commands. The waft of steamed hot dogs ... the pretzel stands ... roasted nuts, and one very rare roasted chestnut stand ... were all a part of the scene at Ground Zero. The ubiquitous side-walk vendors too were a part of the scene -- flags, buttons, patches, decals, headbands, refrigerator magnets, caps, shirts, purses, and wallets.
The commercial crassness that had sprouted around this place had an anesthetizing effect. It was hard to allow myself to be overcome by the experience when I was constantly trying to figure out what was the rip-off margin on a piece of souvenir which I wished I could acquire and take home with me. I decided against any transaction; instead, I picked up a pebble from the ground and pocketed it in the memory of the visit.
As I neared the end of my round, I felt a strong urge to go to the bathroom. The deity of public amenities had provided numerous porto-johns along the slanted sidewalk; the one that I attended was clean and in working order. A gust or two of the strong wind however made the experience rather dicey as the shed began to sway ever so slightly.
I lost many of my human family at Ground Zero, and I knew of some personally who perished there. I did not own any property that was destroyed, but a great part of a great City which I love is no more. What was I supposed to be feeling by now? Still no tears. No lumps in the throat. No rage. Only a slight understanding of what the people of Beirut or any other shelled city had felt for decades. This here happened in one day and an eternity. Still no tears. No choking sensation.
I wondered off toward the world financial center, a magnificent open air plaza by the water, a few rows of building away from the rubble. Here, under the blue sky, with the statue of liberty in the distance, the sun shining bright, I had my first emotional experience of the visit.
I was overawed by how insulated this plaza felt from the digging, lifting, and hauling that was going on at the site. It just as well might have been in another city, country, world. Practically deserted. Quiet. Very, very quiet. Still. I inhaled deep the fresh gentle breeze. And then my lips quivered and I felt the grip tighten around my throat ... the splendor and majesty that was still New York ... crass, arrogant, unbowed, had overwhelmed me.
Back in the maelstrom, I kept walking, and made way up Broadway and eventually crossed to the east side. At one point, I stopped and looked up at the vista in front of me: tall buildings, very tall buildings, huge buildings, one after another, row after row .... There was so much greatness and splendor, marvel of engineering and industry, in this City and elsewhere in this great land that no two-bit medievalist could ever bring down entirely.
It was now clearer than ever why the devastation at Ground Zero should be mourned, but not because of the people and capital that perished there but because of the shameful waste of it all: an enormous waste of labor, love, and money that had built it and animated it: people born from acts of love, relationships nurtured by love, structures born out of the builder's love ... and love of profit, too. And to mourn it and repair it all, if at all, ironically too, has become a labor of love and capital.
To prove that flatulence does have a relationship to the throbbing in one's temple, my next bout with getting choked up occurred in early January, when news was had that a boatload of Iranian-made weapons destined for the Palestinian Authority had been interdicted by Israeli commandoes.
You see, for sometime now I had been arguing that Iran should wean itself from oil as the source of revenue for domestic expenditures and rely on taxes instead and diversify its exports at the same time [see: "Sleep-walking economy" and "Just pretend we have no oil"]. This news was proof positive that finally the Enlightened Leaders of the Resolute Nation had managed to diversify and enhance the Motherland's export sector by selling arms abroad. Arms exports to the Palestinian Authority! This is not exactly at the scale of Russian military sales to Iran, or American sales to Israel, but it was a start.
Then set in a lousy feeling of despair -- not because the arms were seized by Israel, or because they were destined to create more suffering in the region. I choked with pity for an export program that shipped out $100 million worth of brand new and spanking clean hardware for $10 million dollars! With this kind of bargain, it will be a very long time before the leaders of the Resolute Nation can rely on arms exports in order to address the country's balance of payments problems!
The news of the seizure of the arms shipment met with a general and as usual adamant denial by the Iranian foreign ministry. Mr. Arafat too denied any involvement. The Israelis decided that Mr. Arafat must have known about all this and pointed the finger to Iran, as usual.
Meanwhile, the captain of the ship popped up on Israeli T.V. and sounded very very helpful to the Israelis. A set up? Maybe. Why not? The U.S. Secretary of State, on the other hand, tried to react diplomatically. He said the Authority (not necessarily Mr. Arafat) seemed to be involved in this, and called on Mr. Arafat to clamp down. Any more clamping down, Mr. Arafat must have thought, would result in his busting a testicle.
Some commentators were heard saying that all this arms shipment episode was the work of the "rogue elements" in Iran's security forces. This is where the tail goes past wagging the dog and bites itself. If Iran itself is a "rogue nation" then the "rogue elements" in the rogue nation would have to be a priori straight and mainstream! The accusation of "roguism" on its own is wearing thin, too, just as is the nonsense perpetuated by the Clinton and now Bush administrations that the Iranian government is made up of hard-liners (bad guys) and moderates (good guys).
Whenever Iran does something to threaten American interests and security, the administration blames the hard-liners in Tehran. Whenever Iran and the U.S. get into bed together, the American administration rationalizes its unseemly conduct by claims that it is dealing with the good guys in Tehran. All this philanthropy between the U.S. and the Iranian good guys is supposed to strength the hand of the Iranian good guys so that they one day can choke the bad guys!
Meanwhile, in Washington, Mr. Bush choked on a pretzel a few days ago and momentarily fainted. Good god! I gagged on the news and the thought that the Attorney-General, Mr. Ashcroft, will soon arrest all the pretzels and indict the pretzel manufacturers on suspicion of links with evildoers. And what can I say about the twisted evildoers, the al-Qaeda? Nothing, really. Mr. Bush's attempt to smoke them out has succeeded beyond measure! The smoke from the bombing and burning got so choking thick that Bin Laden & Co. had no choice but to run out of Afghanistan, ironically, under the cover of the smoke itself!
Mr. Ashcroft does not choke, though. He should investigate Mr. Arafat for violating the Iranian trade sanctions law. Here is a guy who receives a big subsidy from the United States, and then turns around and buys arms from Iran. If the Iran-Contra was a scandal, why isn't this one?
What if this whole episode was a set up from the get-go by Israel and the United States? Here is that angle: because Iran's weapons program had been so secret and because the United States has no "eyes and ears" in Iran, the United States and Israel had been pretty much in the dark about the developments in Iran's arsenal. So they engineered a sale.
Now, with the weapons seized, Israel and United States can assess the operational capability of some of these weapons, which included rockets, which may be deployed in western Afghanistan by Iran's allies, who seek to gain control of the territory through which the Turkmenistan-Pakistan oil and gas pipelines will traverse some day. And what makes anyone think that the Iranian government itself did not ship the arms in order to further embarass Mr. Arafat?
I am done choking.
Guive Mirfendereski is a professorial lecturer in international relations and law and practices law in Massachusetts.
ALSO By Guive Mirfendereski
Mirfendereski articles' index
Ship of fools Questions on arms shipments to the Palestinians Authority By Rasool Nafisi
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As a long time back pain sufferer, I educated myself in deciphering when it's seriously out of alignment, and when my back is sore and tight. Yet, each time I think an unanticipated "tinge" of pain in my neck, back, or shoulders, I expect it is just muscle soreness and expect it'll go away. The following are telling signs it's time to call a chiropractor.
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