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Aliette Vazquez Calls Off Engagement to Helio Castronevesby Mischalova at . Comments
Helio Castroneves was on top of the world after winning Dancing with the Stars last night.
But the race car driver awoke this morning with the knowledge that he'll never have Aliette Vazquez on top of him again.
TMZ reports that Vazquez has broken off her engagement to the racing and dancing champion; the couple had been dating for more than six years and had been engaged for a year.
"There have been a lot of rumors and a lot of misinformation out there," Vazquez's rep Howard Bragman said, and she "wanted to set the record straight."
"I can confirm that Aliette Vazquez and I have called off our engagement and are no longer together," Castroneves said in a statement to People. "At this time I would prefer to keep my private life private."
Ironically, Helio's partner, Julianne Hough, postponed her wedding last year because she was too busy preparing for the new season of Dancing with the Stars.
ali is HOTT....awseome girl.....way better then helio castroWHATEVERRRRRRR....take that ;)
The bright lights and attention are seductive. Anyone that's around that artificial environment (or is mature enough) would know enough not to take it seriously. Yes, those emersed in that scene mate & part with a fickleness that amazes. Mr. Castroneves recent fiance should realize the fleeting alliances that get created (to sell tickets, advertising, etc.) are manufactured. If he and she had a solid relationship, it wouldn't & shouldn't be so fragile. So, maybe the delay to that marriage by the dancing show was a blessing in disguise for both of them (exposing a shaky foundation). Doesn't the Bible say that there are no coincidences? Yes, all that comes from God has a good purpose. -Amen.
well well well. wasn't she dating her former partner too? Get real, i think these celebrities just kiss for the sake of publicity... keeps us all tuned in and they obviously aren't people we want our children look to as role models.... If they did, everything would be acceptable...
I'm sorry when someone breaks up but if Julianne & Helio have found each other,that's great.If it happened...it happened! It's not up to us to judge how people live or love!!
I think it's great the Helio and Aliette decided to call it quits instead of doing the whole baby, family thing and realizing way to late that being together was not for them. I find it so comical when people judge movie stars. Not a single one of us know them personally but so many can't wait to trash them! Aliette is a beautiful women and I'm sure she will not have a problem finding Mr. Right. And Helio's personality is extremely contagious and he is so adorable. There's not to many women out there that wouldn't have loved to be in Julianne's shoes!!! As for Julianne.... how many of us at 19 didn't bounce from love to love? She seems pretty intelligent and mature for her age... but remember people she has done, experienced, been responsible and accomplished things that people at 50 are still thriving for. Give her some credit. And if they a hot new couple kudos to them....
I know Helio and he is not a CAD! He is one of the most respectful, caring young men I have ever met. He is friendly almost to a fault, loves life, and loves people. I believe the issue goes way deeper than a victory kiss between two amazing dance partners. If Aliette broke their engagement just because of that, she is a fool. He would be a great catch for any woman.
If after dating 6 years, being engaged for a year and they still hadn't set a date, they already had problems. Ny understanding is that the engagement ended a couple of weeks ago not the night of the finale. Good luck to all of them.
I heard his fiance dumped him, not the other way around. His fiance needs to grow up and realize that NO man on Earth could possibly resist such a gorgeous 19-yr-old blonde with a smokin' hot body who can move like that. Get real, girl. She should've let this brief phase pass because Julianne certainly isn't ready to settle down at this stage of her life. Stand By Your Man.
Sorry, I think Helio is a CAD for disrespecting and humiliating his fiance in front of millions of viewers. No matter how gorgeous Julianne is or how he felt, it was wrong for him to do that. Obviously, after skipping around the dance floor with Julianne, he decided to serve his fiance her walking papers, by planting a big one on Julianne.


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By Karen Cohilas - bio | email ALBANY, GA (WALB) – Some Albany Water, Gas and Light customers may soon end up in the dark. But as long as the heat index hits 100 each day, WG&L won't cut customers off for non-payment.
Right now, more than 800 customers are on the list to be disconnected when the weather cools off. And the amount they owe keeps going up.
If you miss your due date, even if your power isn't cut off, a non-payment fee will still be added to your bill, making it even more difficult for you to pay later on.
"It's hard to believe, but we do have customers calling complaining that we didn't cut them off, so it's a dual edged sword, but we just feel like it's very important not to put anybody's health at risk," said Lorie Farkas of Water, Gas, and Light.
Water, Gas, and Light doesn't expect a break from the high heat or high bills soon. The highest summer bills are typically sent out in August and September.
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It's pouring rain outside. Again.
I love Eugene, and I'm a Northwest native ("Clan of the webbed toes") so rain doesn't really register most of the time, but after a spate of gardening last weekend I'm getting a bit fed up with February, and March is threatening to march in this weekend looking suspiciously similar to it.
I concede that I have nothing, comparatively speaking, to complain about. You East Coasters are having a winter for the record books and the most recent storm means that many of you can't even see this post because the power is out, and I really, truly, feel for you. Weather over there has gone from "inconvenient" to "Dorothy's house just flew by the front window," and you are all in our thoughts and prayers.
Nobody on either coast, then, would fault any of us for daydreaming about warmer, drier climes.
Getting to those locales is weighing heavy on my mind, though. Notwithstanding the cost (both financial and environmental), we all know the real truth: food on airplanes is mostly pretty wretched stuff. To add insult to injury, now we have to spring for it.
I was pondering this dilemma awhile back, and my wool-gathering turned from the destination to the journey, and what, exactly, I'd pack in my Lunchsense lunchbox for the trip. I realized I had a few constraints, as follows – all the food would have to be:
1) Relatively non-perishable since the FSA would confiscate the ice pack (although we CAN pack ice in the drink bottle, then dump it out before boarding the plane, then get more ice on board, if absolutely necessary);
2) Lacking in any liquids or gels in quantities over 3 oz.;
3) Free of un-neighborly foods like allergens (i.e. nuts) or really aromatic stuff like, oh, limburger; and most of all
4) A meal that will be the utter envy of my cabinmates. A meal that will make the security guards that x-ray the lunch box stop the machine and stare in awe. A meal that will have passengers climbing over seat backs to get at it.
I realized at this point I needed professional help.
I needed a chef.
Enter good friend Andy Roybal, who took my constraints and weighed in with this response:
I would not worry about the temperature control because food has a 4 hour window in which it is safe and you would want some of the items to come up to room temp for better flavor.
The menu:
Rice is out because cold rice sucks but I would do Inari Nigiri – Sweet Rice wrapped in Fried Tofu Skins, it is normally served cold and three pieces would fit nicely into one of your containers. Along with that I would have a container of Soba Noodle Salad (again served cold) with julienne Green Onion, Carrot, Cucumber, and Red Pepper in a Soy-Ginger Dressing. Then you need some veggies… Soy Beans to the rescue! Edamame seasoned with Hawaiian Sea Salt, Toasted Sesame Seeds and Sesame Oil would be a nice. Here are a few more ideas… no harm in more vegetables, so let's add a small side of Seaweed Salad available at most Asian stores already prepared. If you still have room… some home made Teriyaki Chicken would be nice… you can eat it cold and that rounds out your meal with a bit of protein. You do get to bring on 3 oz of liquid, so in the small salad dressing container, I would fill it with some Sake!
That would be my meal. I hope that helps… if you don't like that one I was thinking of a Middle Eastern Lunch of Falafel, Hummus, Baba ghanoush, Tabbouleh, Yogurt Sauce and lots of Pita Bread.
I would not worry about the temperature control because food has a 4 hour window in which it is safe and you would want some of the items to come up to room temp for better flavor.
The menu:
Rice is out because cold rice sucks but I would do Inari Nigiri – Sweet Rice wrapped in Fried Tofu Skins, it is normally served cold and three pieces would fit nicely into one of your containers. Along with that I would have a container of Soba Noodle Salad (again served cold) with julienne Green Onion, Carrot, Cucumber, and Red Pepper in a Soy-Ginger Dressing. Then you need some veggies… Soy Beans to the rescue! Edamame seasoned with Hawaiian Sea Salt, Toasted Sesame Seeds and Sesame Oil would be a nice. Here are a few more ideas… no harm in more vegetables, so let's add a small side of Seaweed Salad available at most Asian stores already prepared. If you still have room… some home made Teriyaki Chicken would be nice… you can eat it cold and that rounds out your meal with a bit of protein. You do get to bring on 3 oz of liquid, so in the small salad dressing container, I would fill it with some Sake!
That would be my meal. I hope that helps… if you don't like that one I was thinking of a Middle Eastern Lunch of Falafel, Hummus, Baba ghanoush, Tabbouleh, Yogurt Sauce and lots of Pita Bread.
Thank you, Andy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
(Aside to Andy: The last line about kills me – "if you don't like that one…" Oh fer heaven's sake, Andy, have you FLOWN lately? Do you know what you're up against?)
Can't you see it? You get on the plane with your tidy little lunchbox, and about midflight when your cabin mates are prying the plastic wrap off their nine-dollar "club sandwiches" and trying to discreetly open little mayonnaise packets with their teeth you pull this feast out, smooth your cloth napkin (included) on your lap, smile graciously to them, and dig in?
So – what would you pack?
To all of us – hang in there, spring's just around the corner. In the meantime, I'm going to daydream about warmer, drier, beautiful places. Like Eugene in August.
p.s. Stay tuned – Andy says he'll come up with recipes for the goods above.
p.p.s. And if dreaming about good food isn't enough, slide on over to foodgawker for a visual, virtual orgy of good food AND good photography.
I've got a confession to make. I'm not the Greenest person in the world. Wait! Before you strap me to the back of a wild orca, or string me up a Redwood tree, hear me out—please. I'm not that bad. I haven't cashed any kickbacks from ExxonMobil or Dow. I recycle, I carpool, and I (usually) walk my boys to and from school each day. I live in Eugene, Oregon for goodness' sake, a haven for organic, natural fiber, tree-hugging types. You can get publicly flogged for tossing compostable foods into a trash can here. So what's my environmental atrocity? I'm a stay-at-home-dad who needs to prepare two reasonably healthy lunches every weekday morning before 8 a.m., and I'm not a morning person.
Still doesn't sound so deplorable? Well, it started years ago while I was working evening shifts at a local newspaper. I simply wasn't getting enough sleep, and it slowly became harder and harder to perform my morning chores as a walking, slit-eyed zombie. My wife would wake the boys and set them up with a cereal/oatmeal/bagel-type breakfast before placing a cup of strong, black coffee on my night-table, shoving me (hard) and slingshot-ing herself off to work. I would often stay in bed until the last possible second when I would force myself upright, slurp down one, then two cups of java and frantically prepare my sons for school. In this weakest of possible conditions, I abandoned good sense and succumbed—to individually packaged, grab-and-go food items. Yes, I really should have known better, but (please forgive me) my boys just gobbled those fruit cups, yogurt tubes and energy bars right up. The worst part? I don't work the night-job anymore, yet I still (occasionally) ignore my want-to-be-Green conscience and opt for convenience. This is an inexcusable exercise in poor judgment, but there are no two ways about it—"it's not that easy being Green."
In 2008, U.S. residents, businesses and institutions produced 250 million tons of Municipal Solid Waste (MSW), commonly referred to as "trash." This amounts to about 4.5 pounds of waste per person per day. We recycled and composted 83 million of the 250 million tons. The Environmental Protection Agency estimates that residential waste (you and me) accounted for 55-65% of the total MSW generation. Containers and packaging made up nearly 31% of the 250 million tons. Only two manmade structures on Earth are large enough to be seen from outer space: the Great Wall of China and the Fresh Kills landfill.
So, should I hang my head and skulk around with a Scarlet Letter sewn to my guilty conscience? Yes, in all honesty I probably should, but we at Lunchsense like to view the Green Movement as just that—a movement; a progression from a toxic, yellowish-neon shade to the deepest emerald hue. Clearly, you can't plot me on this Green graph next to Ed Begley Jr., but by recognizing and addressing my own waste problem, I am heading his way. Rather than dodging the Green Police and fretting over whether I'm "Green" or not, I'm simply accepting the continuum and trying to become Green-er. Now (thanks to Nancy), I utilize reusable containers much more frequently, and I also buy bulk when I can. There are a number of tasty items available in this under-appreciated section of the supermarket. And remember–you can buy as much or as little as you need. Ask yourself how you can limit the amount of waste you produce each day and share your own confessions/suggestions with us. By increasing our awareness and making the most of our Lunchsense, we can all grow Greener each day.
There are moments in running a biz that generate an "I have arrived!" feeling. They include:
- my first sale
- getting the patent on the lunchbox
- my first TV interview
- my first newspaper article
- my first "hey, I saw somebody with one of your lunchboxes at work and they said they loved it!" from a friend
They are moments that give me a huge boost: I really like what I do, and I know I'm doing what I'm meant to be doing at this time in my life, but it always helps to know other people occasionally agree with me.
This is the latest: Lunchsense lunchboxes got a very nice mention in the latest cookbook from Jennifer McCann, "Vegan Lunch Box Around the World, 125 Easy, International lunches Kids and Grown-ups will Love!" available here. Jennifer is also the author of the Vegan Lunchbox blog, veganlunchbox.blogspot.com – a fine stop for anyone looking for lunch inspiration, vegan and otherwise (the latter category being the one I land in). Please do check out the blog and the book!
With the New Year well underway, it seems like a good time to do a little accounting. No, I don't mean finally opening the credit card bills you've been hiding for the last several weeks (though you should at least take a peek before attempting your next purchase). I'm talking about considering your Karma account. "Karma account?" you might ask. Yes, that's right, and we all have one. Perhaps you've heard the saying, "It takes a village to raise a child." Well, in my world I have my own version: "It takes a bunch of friendly neighbors to get me through my to-do list." Sure, some of you (those without children, of course) might be more independent than that, but honestly, don't we all get by "With a Little Help from Our Friends?" Where would any of us be without an occasional favor? The luckiest among us live in vibrant communities full of helpful neighbors, and the best way to keep ourselves on the right side of this vital group is to pay attention to our Karma accounts. If yours is anything like mine, it looks a lot like the check-book after Christmas . . . "I owe, I owe, I owe."
Okay, so we've all been getting, and it is our turn to do a little giving. What do we do? Obviously, there is the ever popular returned favor, like for like: you picked-up my boys from school last week when my washer exploded and flooded our house, so I'll get your daughter this week while you are waiting for your son's broken arm to be set. It's all nice and tidy, Karma in/Karma out. But, perhaps you are few favors down. Or, you really want to gift a close friend. Maybe you want to get the attention of a new friend or co-worker who (if you are single) also happens to be very cute. I'd like to suggest that timeless Karma classic: treating someone to lunch. This might seem like an obvious choice to some, but before you make those reservations at the swankest hip spot in town (remember those credit card bills), or (Heaven forbid) start jotting down orders for the nearest drive-through, consider the word: "treat." Yes, it implies you're paying, but what else?
To treat also means things like to care for, to entertain, or more suggestively, to heal (as in, what ails you). Synonyms for a treat include delicacy, ambrosia, or the simple, charming goody. Any sandwich that starts with the word "Big" and ends with a trademark symbol hardly fits this description. Even that $12 Club with the awesome cup of French Onion that's available at Swanky Swanks falls short of truly caring for someone.
Consider this alternative: taking a few moments to thoughtfully prepare a healthy, lunchtime snack that you can serve to your friend and enjoy on the fly. Treat inherently implies something special, so be creative and add a personal touch. Cut your carrot chips into stars, whisk up your famous vinaigrette, or maybe a little spinach dip. Include that awesome ginseng tea, or a fresh berry smoothie, and don't forget the homemade oatmeal-raisin cookie because for many (all the kids in my house) treat means something yummy and sweet. Stack them all neatly into your Lunchsense lunchbox and find a special spot, preferably outdoors, but anywhere quietly adjacent to the beaten path should do. Invite a friend and celebrate your greenness (more Karma points) with a trash-free treat while sharing an appreciative smile. If you use your Lunchsense wisely, your Karma account could overflow.
My daughter (she's 11) and her friend begged me to let them use my laptop a few weeks ago to watch a movie in her room, since my boys were watching some movie with stuff blowing up. I relented, but requested that they use earphones so the boys wouldn't know. My gal pulled out the pair she'd just bought with allowance money and lent her original pair to the friend, then they turned to me and asked,
"Do you have a splitter?"
I said no, my laptop has two headphone jacks so we wouldn't need one.
Then it occurred to me: "how come my 11 year old knows what a splitter IS and what it's FOR?" I certainly didn't when I was her age. So I asked, "how the heck do you know what a splitter is?"
Her friend turned to me and said, very gently,
"Nancy, we've grown up with this technology. WE (gesturing to herself and my girl) are natives."
"YOU are an immigrant."
But so very true.
On that note, I'm introducing a new face, a new name, and a new voice to the Lunchsense blog. Meet Chris Naugle: Born on the East Coast and raised and educated in the Midwest (Uof Missouri) and Northwest (U of Oregon), Chris now resides quite happily on the West Coast as married father of two elementary age boys. Chris says he is living the Great American Novel before hoping to someday commit it to paper or at least the internet. And this is what I get for asking for a bio at 10 pm and receiving it around midnight: He is mostly exhausted.
He also happens to be a dynamic, opinionated writer who can not only complete a sentence, he can even turn a phrase.
Perhaps you assume,
"Oh, Nancy (being an immigrant) needed a tour guide to navigate this online, technology-infused world, so Chris is the go-to guy."
Um, no, that's not it. Chris is also an immigrant. He's joining me on this undertaking because as a small biz owner there's just not enough of me to get everything done, and he's a fine writer to boot. We immigrants to ANYTHING just need a little extra help now and then to "keep all the plates spinning," as the old saw goes.
So then, say hello to Chris, and wish him well (and a little sleep).
Here's that pesky postscript: after my daughter, her friend and I had that above exchange, my girl said, "Mama, don't put that on Facebook." This has become her stock statement after anything funny, embarrassing, or even mildly insightful and interesting comes forth. As always, I agreed to respect her wishes and keep it off Facebook.
But she never mentioned the blog.
I spend many waking hours and more sleeping hours than I care to admit working on the lunchbox biz.
This blog is meant to reflect that which I'm passionate about, including (but not limited to) good food, waste reduction and running a small biz. I'll readily admit I'm passionate about at least a few other things (starting with my family), but I'm inclined to keep them clear of my ramblings. However, I had a day last year that definitely involves my family, and has absolutely nothing to do with the biz, but was so…noteworthy…that it warranted a posting. It happened on a no-school day – President's Day, maybe? – and involved not only my crew but a handful of local families.
Happy reading.
The Participants:
Me, home for the day. I have three kids: Delainey (10), at Kayla's house; Noah (8) and Evan (6), both who are at home with me.
Lisa, also home for the day; she's mom to Hannah (10), at Kayla's house, and Mason (8), Roscoe (7), and Alex (6), all at home
Kayla (10) and her little brother Kai (5), both at Kayla's house with Delainey and Hannah
Fisher, Noah's friend, at his own home
Alexandra (10), friend to all the girls, and her mom Joan, also at their own home
My husband Mike, at the high school where he teaches, overseeing a chess tournament
The action:
Yesterday: Lisa suggests that we take a bunch of kids to the dollar theater to see "Bolt". They don't get many opportunities to go to a movie in a theater, and we're happy that it's something ALL the kids might enjoy AND it's at a very attractive price.
Today, 9:30am: Noah complains of general malaise; I give him a dose of Tylenol, figuring he's just tapped out from a long weekend and will rally with the extra attention anyway, but the Tylenol won't hurt.
11am: Lisa calls me – Mason is on task to complete his homework, but has two pages to go and will not be allowed to see the movie until he finishes. He's digging in his heels, and Lisa wants to know if I'm going to the movie and could take Roscoe and Alex so they don't get punished for Mason's transgressions. I agree to this; I have no interest in seeing Bolt but (as most parents would know) that doesn't really have any bearing on the day. Since I first have to deliver Evan and pizzas to the chess tournament around noon, I can make it to Lisa's in time to scoop up Roscoe and Alex for a 2:10 movie.
But what about the girls? Delainey wants to get together with Alexandra, and they may want to see the movie, and Hannah and Kayla might also want to see the movie, so I add it up: me+Noah+Roscoe +Alex+3 girls will fit in my van, but only if Evan agrees to stay at the chess tournament, and he's undecided; I can't manage a 4th girl, and since Lisa can't go anywhere until Mason finishes his homework, we'll have to see if Joan can drive.
11:15: I try to call Joan, but that call is interrupted when my cell phone rings. It's Delainey calling from Kayla's: she wants to know if I reached Joan to confirm her get-together with Alexandra. I tell her I haven't yet, but there's a possibility we'd all be able to go to see Bolt, but it hinges on having another driver, which could be Lisa if Mason comes through or Joan if she and Alexandra are interested. I agree to call her back when I know more; she has to check with Kayla and Hannah to see if they're interested in the movie too.
I call Joan back: Alexandra's itching to get together with Delainey, and any other friends would be just great, and yes, she might be interested in the movie, and yes, Joan thinks she might be able to drive. I count again: me+Noah+Roscoe+Alex±Evan (pending chess) leaves me room to spare, if Joan could drive all the girls.
11:25: I call Delainey back, and she says they're all interested in going to the movie. I agree to stop by Kayla's house and scoop up all three girls, deliver Kayla and Hannah to Lisa's house and Delainey to Alexandra's, do the pizza run to the chess tournament, return to Lisa's and get the boys at 1:45, then take them to the movie. Kayla and Hannah, meanwhile, will walk up to Alexandra's when it's close to movie time and Joan will drive all four girls.
Easy, easy, easy.
11:35: I call Lisa back, and she says Mason's definitely NOT going to the movie because three other friends just arrived and Mason is playing with them and she is certain he will not get his homework done in time (and probably won't care either). I tell her the plan with the girls, and she figures it will work.
11:40: Fisher calls, wants to play with Noah. I count again: me+Noah+Fisher+Roscoe+Alex±Evan (pending chess) would still fit, so I offer to take Noah to Fisher's now, then to swing back to Fisher's house at 1:30 to get them before I go to Lisa's to get the other boys to go to the movie.
11:40: I load up the van with the trail-a-bike (so Evan can get home from chess with Mike), and Noah and Evan, and go to Kayla's house. I go in to get the girls, and there stands Kai, who also wants to go to the movie. I count up again: me+Noah+Fisher+Roscoe+Alex+Kai±Evan (pending chess) will still fit in the van, so I say sure, he can play at the Lisa's while I go deliver pizza to the chess tournament, then I'll pick him up and take him with everyone else to the movie. Besides, he's altogether too cute and good-natured to refuse. So Noah, Evan, Kayla, Hannah, Delainey, Kai and I pile into the van and we go to Lisa's house.
11:45: I drop Noah at Fisher's house with instructions that I'll return for them at 1:30.
11:50: Joan calls, tells me that she doesn't think she'll be able to drive after all because she'll need to be around for her son's activities later that afternoon. I tell her that the girls will probably understand, and perhaps even Lisa will be able to drive if Mason gets his act together.
11:55: I drop off Kayla, Hannah and Kai at Lisa's house with the promise to return for them at 1:45 and instructions for Lisa and Joan to work out the girls' transportation to the movie.
12:00: I drop Delainey at Alexandra's.
12:25: Now with only Evan in tow, I get pizza, go to the high school, and join Mike and the chess team for lunch.
1:15: Evan has decided he wants to go to the movie, so we load up and head to Fisher's.
1:20: I call Joan to confirm the movie transportation plan. She doesn't think it will happen as Delainey and Alexandra have now made other plans.
1:25: I call Lisa to tell her that those girls will not be going to the movie after all.
1:35: I pick up Noah and Fisher, and (after doubling back to get Noah's glasses) we head for Lisa's.
1:40: Lisa tells me Kayla and Hannah were so disappointed that they wouldn't get to go to the movie after all that she has agreed to throw Mason and the two remaining friends of his in HER van and she will deliver Kayla and Hannah to the theater if I will keep tabs on them. I agree to this.
1:45: I reach Lisa's house, where Roscoe, Alex and Kai pile into the van with Noah, Fisher and Evan, and we head to the theater, following Lisa's van with Hannah, Kayla, Mason and his two friends. After half a morning of scheduling and rescheduling, we are FINALLY ON OUR WAY TO THE MOVIE.
1:55: Noah (in the front seat) announces to me he feels awful and thinks he might throw up. I check, he looks ashen. I hand him the trash bag and figure that two hours sitting in a dark movie theater won't kill him or anybody else. Ultimately, he does not throw up.
2:05: We arrive at the mall and hike over to the theater ticket window, where we meet Hannah and Kayla, whom Lisa has just dropped off.
2:08: the 2:10 showing of Bolt is sold out.
The two ten showing of Bolt is sold out.
2:09: I call Lisa and tell her the news, and she cracks up.
2:10: Lisa doubles back to the mall, picks up Roscoe, Alex, and Kai.
2:11: I return to the van with Noah, Fisher, Evan, Kayla and Hannah, then on the drive back I try and call Fisher's house (as I don't want Fisher to be at our house with Noah in his condition), but as I can't reach Fisher's parents I call Lisa and ask to leave Fisher there.
2:25: I drop Fisher off at Lisa's.
2:35: I drop Kayla and Hannah at Kayla's.
2:40: Noah, Evan and I return home. Noah immediately heads for bed.
The necessary postscripts: I'm usually not this cavalier with a sick kid. Noah was low in the morning, but rallied; he was low on the way to the movie, but the prospect of FINALLY getting to the theater had just too strong a pull on him.
Lastly, these are all wonderful kids and I'm happy to take them to the dollar theater when the opportunity arises. Most of the time the outing does NOT turn out like this one did.


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ickstarter is a great combination of the right service coming along at exactly the right moment. Crowd funding has been around for quite some time, but with the ever-increasing footprint the Internet and our connected mobile devices leave upon our daily lives, it was just waiting for something like Kickstarter to make it catch fire globally.
One of the biggest selling points of Kickstarter was that it puts people on a completely level playing field. For example, if some Average Joe programmer had a fantastic idea for a videogame and the talent and team to create it, it traditionally would have been very difficult for someone with no connections to the venture capital market to try to raise a decent amount of money to fund development. More so, even if they were to acquire the necessary coinage to stay afloat and design the game, getting the required amount of publicity/awareness to pique the interest of publishers would be another difficult obstacle in its own right. With Kickstarter, as long as Average Joe has a compelling concept that people want to partake in, he has just a good of chance of getting his game funded as would a seasoned, AAA developer with connections to funding and publishers. And with the emergence of Kicstater as a platform, there are plenty of industry eyeballs watching it daily for the "next big thing".
This leveling of the playing field is a big reason why Kickstarter has completely blown up in the past few years. But with the open-source nature of Kickstarter which allows anyone to create an account and ask for pledges, there needs to be a certain amount of trepidation on the part of potential backers. You are essentially placing a bet on whether or not the person (or company) that is running the Kickstarter campaign will follow through with their promise or not.
In December of 2011, a company named Crypteks successfully completed a Kickstarter campaign to produce high-quality, high-security encrypted USB flash drives. "Successfully" is actually putting it mildly, as Crypteks was able to raise a whopping 16 times their stated goal of $12,000 for a grand total of $196,404. The USB drives featured incredibly sleek designs, and many people were in the market for a secure flash drive that would be incredibly hard to steal the data from or to destroy outright. The campaign got off to a good start, received some good PR along with way with stories on tech blogs and sites, and it had no problems smashing its fundraising goal.
But after the Crypteks team crossed the finish line, there were some issues. First they said there were problems with international orders and shipping. Then there were problems with the way that Kickstarter synced up with Amazon Payments. Weeks turned into months, and although they would periodically update the Kickstarter page with the latest, there was no denying Crpyteks was falling behind with the manufacturing and distributing the flash drive. As of today, they still have not shipped them out to the people who pledged money more than a year and a half ago. Requests for comments were not returned.
With nearly 1,000 backers left out in the cold and the countless of thousands who read the articles and were intrigued by the device enough to keep it on their radar, the inevitable backlash began once the delays started. A thread on the popular message board Reddit was started has nearly 230 comments that cover the entire gamut of reactions from indignant outrage to chalking it up to the uncertain nature of internet-based crowd funding. The comments on the Kickstarter page tend to be more synoptic, with frustrated backers suggesting filing a class-action lawsuit. We will continue to monitor the situation.
However, a bit of digging on Crypteks itself pulls up some very unsettling information. Their WHOIS search for their domain (www.cryptrade.com) is registered to a company called Bitwize S.A.R.L, which is located in Mansourieh, Lebanon and is a marketing/design/CMS agency. However, the website does not list Crypteks or Cryptrade as a client or mention them at all in their works section – which is odd considering that the website and accompanying marketing video produced by Bitwize were a big reason the Crypteks Kickstarter campaign was so successful, and even won web design awards. One would think an award-winning campaign would be worthy of mentioning on the agency's highlight reel. A request for more information from Bitwize has not yet been returned.
Interestingly, one of the founders of Cryptrade, Fahad Koumiaha, is spearheading a new project before rectifying the Crypteks situation. After the updates on the Kickstarter page slowed to a trickle, Koumiaha was off to his next venture – as the CEO of Cryoniks, a hardware manufacturer claiming to have created one of the most sophisticated BitCoin miners in existence with the FrostBit device. Although some have claimed that the proposed specs and capabilities of FrostBit fall outside of the realm of possibility, that remains to be seen as no units have been issued yet – what is more concerning is the fact that Koumiaha has already moved on to greener pastures while 989 people are waiting to see anything from their collective $196,404 that he and the rest of Cryptrade received.
After a story on BTC Bible revelaed the connection between Cryptrade and Cryoniks, Koumiaha replied with the following:
"I thought it would be wise for me to reach out and correct a few misconceptions that were stated in the article. It is true that I have designed the CRXi and CRXii units for Cryptrade in 2010, however, I am unaffiliated with that company. It was a commissioned contract that I was very proud to successfully deliver upon. Unfortunately, I have no bearing on the business practices nor do I receive a royalty from Cryptrade. With that said, Cryoniks, Inc. and Cryptrade are not affiliated. It is rather unfortunate that I should be wrongly accused of "scamming" or of being a "serial scammer" when I have done nothing of the sort. It would behoove your staff to perhaps contact Cryptrade for a detailed explanation of their business practices."
The full response cane be read at the top of the BTC Bible article…so while Koumiaha claims he has nothing to do with Cryptrade anymore and only did his contracted duties, it's worth noting that both Cryptrade and Cryoniks are represented by the same law firm, Safford & Baker, PLLC.
While all the updates promise they will eventually make good on their end of the deal, there is no way to know for certain if they ever will. It's entirely possible (and with each passing day, more likely) they could never ship a single flash drive and the hundreds of people that collectively pooled together nearly $200,000 will see their money absolutely wasted. And the craziest part is, Kickstarter can't and won't do anything about it.
Since Kickstarter is a service, it views itself more as a platform or place where business can take place, not as a business itself. This is made abundantly clear in their terms of service, which states that they are in no way, shape, or form responsible for any financial loss relating to "rewards or any other use of the Service." It goes on to elaborate that "All dealings are solely between users…Kickstarter is under no obligation to become involved in disputes between any users, or between users and any third party." Which is all to say that once you decide to pledge a project, there is no guarantee by either the recipient of your pledge or by Kickstarter itself that you will ever receive what you are entitled to.
This is a facet of their service that Kickstarter understandably isn't shouting from the rooftops. There have been several high-profile cases of creators of successful Kickstarter campaigns "taking the money and running". And according to Kickstarter advisor and board member Sunny Bates, that is a risk you need to evaluate before deciding whether or not to back a cause. In an interview with Polygon, she states that: "When it's syndicated out so broadly with backers, even if somebody is scammed – and it looks too good to be true and you still take a risk on it anyhow – you feel pissed off and upset at the creator and then, you know, some of that may lead over on some people feeling 'why can't Kickstarter control this?' Well, it's a platform – we can't."
And even though the vast majority of the backers on Kickstarter are for under $100, Bates goes on to say that, "I think that because where the bulk of the projects are is between the $25 to $1500 range, are you going to go take legal action on something that you put $50 into? I mean you tell me. Maybe if you put $10,000, sure. Or $1000, maybe. But if you lost $25 or $50 then you're a little disappointed and you think the [project creator] sucks. But that's the beauty of crowdsourcing, it's not really worth your effort – you're disappointed and you're angry that somebody would do this because it does feel like they're duplicitous and they're trying to pull the wool over the crowd's eyes, and clearly they can't. But I think legal action, when you syndicate it out and you have hundreds of backers for any one project, it's a very different story."
It's worth noting that Kickstarter takes a 5% cut on all successfully funded projects, meaning that most of the company's money is derived from these smaller, $25-$50 pledges that Bates so flippantly dismisses.
Since Kickstarter doesn't have your back, there is absolutely no guarantee regarding any campaigns, and every pledge should be viewed as a calculated risk. The best way to protect yourself is to do as much of the calculating as possible to minimize the risk. Research the people behind the campaign as thoroughly as possible – people or companies with little to no information about their history should be a huge red flag. Consider how difficult it will be for the campaign creator to actually deliver on what they are claiming to produce – a Kickstarter campaign promising to cultivate a city lot into an urban farmland is much easier to achieve than a campaign that has to create a sophisticated, never-seen-before piece of hardware tech like a full-body feedback suit for videogames. Don't pledge what you wouldn't be willing to lose – again, pledging to a Kickstarter campaign is a gamble, and as any decent gambler will tell you to never wager what you can't afford to lose. Consider alternatives – in the case of Crypteks, many people noted that there are other, vastly cheaper, options to creating a secure USB flash drive (such as TrueCrypt) that are free to implement in existing, run-of-the-mill flash drives (although this would admittedly be without the physical enhancements Crypteks added to the casing of the drive to prevent literally cracking them open).
Crypteks has been in somewhat of a "radio silent" mode once it became clear they were not going to be shipping the flash drive anytime soon. Their Facebook page hasn't been updated since December of 2011, and clicking on the Blog link on their website only directs you to the inert Facebook page. On the Kickstarter page itself, there have only been three updates in 2013, and two of the most recent updates were about how people can get refunds (the updates are almost all shared with backers only, so since the campaign is now closed, it is impossible to read the full updates unless you were an initial backer). While it seems unlikely that Crypteks was out to scam people from the get go (why even offer refunds if you're aiming to ride off into the sunset with bags of cash?), they are losing more and more customer faith and positive brand association with each day that passes without sending their backers their product.
Kickstarter can be a great way to hear of new projects that you may never would have come across otherwise, and it does serve as a great equalizer for Davids trying to compete with the Goliaths in their industry. But you should always exercise restraint and caution before pledging money towards a campaign. As a backer, you're investing in the person or people who are running the campaign – not all investments are sound, however, and if you don't do your research into who you're giving money to and what you hope to get back in return, you may never see either again.


text:
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text:
A Tribute.
Language succeeds when it tells us truths concisely.
Language, at its best should be used as the unadorned conduit of meaning.
Often we sacrifice meaning for brevity. Often the volume of our language decimates its meaning.
It is for the communicators of rooted emotion, those who understand the potential dignity of expressed thought to give us their truths and make us feel their understanding as if it were our own.
These are the leaders of people, they who quietly roar change at injustice. There is not more than a handful of them in all our weight of heedless history.
One of them has died.
He was a leader who spoke slowly, checking the words that passed.
He put meaning in forgiveness and in freedom.
For 3 decades he spoke not a word and yet millions heard his voice.
And in a world torn and ripped by confusion, lead by a subdued meaning which makes susceptible the transient attentions of a sprawling humanity to the falsehoods of a misguided few,
his words provided a light that nurtured good.
Although he didn't directly affect me and I couldn't really have known his deeds in life, the simple truth of his words has found me.
And I'll miss him.
'I'm a musician actually.' I told him warily.
'Oh a musician!' His ruddy cheeks lit up, 'Like Dudley Moore, innee.' When he said musician it sounded more like magician.
'Uh, yes, I believe Dudley Moore was also a musician…'
He gave a particularly West-Country grunt of affirmation. There was a pause.
'You don't know that there Beethoven do you? By wife loves he, inner.'
'Well not personally.' I said without confidence, attempting small talk humour.
There was another long pause while he appeared to be cogitating somewhere in his cider impeded mind. As realisation dawned a smile began to break across his face like an egg yolk and the uncomfortable silence was dispelled by his wildly disproportionate laughter. Several people within the laugh's radius were consequently ensnared by its potency and began laughing with him, to the rhythm of his profoundly shaking stomach.
'Not personally, innee!'
I used this spectacle of comic contagion as cover to slip out unnoticed, and left the ruddy warmth of the pub for the comforting bitterness of an outdoor smoking area.
'Smoking Kills.' The Benson and Hedges packet kindly informed me.
I remained largely indifferent to this valuable intelligence.
The smoke licentiously crept from the cigarette's glowing end and touched my face in a conspiratory, carcinogen caress. I began to relax slightly.
'I'm a musician.' I said out loud, redundantly. 'm-u-s-i-c-i-a-n,' spelling it out.
The cold night air did not respond. It seemed to think it sounded silly too.
«Year 2001-
Month unknown
512 days since beginning of Base 17 records»
<Entry No.76>
They played Jupiter from the Planets suite over the tannoy in the compound today. It was a strange experience, hearing 'I bow to thee my country' floating gently over the quivering heads of huddled families, as the screams from outside reached their loudest. I suspected it to be the doing of Colonel Gregson; his judgement has been in noticeable decline recently. He would normally realise the futility of trying to drown out those irrepressible sounds with pretty music. When the emptiness inside the Hungry people swells into seething masses inside of them, and they throw their whole, cut-bruised bodies against the outer walls of the compound with the accompanying thump of flesh on concrete, again and again, until they become bloodied and weak, there isn't an awful lot Holst can do, try as he might.
Gregson won't last much longer. His attempts at leadership are becoming increasingly impotent, and I don't think he's really built for the strain. A man can only handle so much screaming before the screaming starts to become part of him. It begins to surreptitiously fill its place amongst his Darker thoughts, jaggedly growing outwards until you get like Gregson: you start to slip up, you lose your focus. That's the first step. The last, and by far the worst step is when you get used to the screaming. When it starts to actually comfort you. From that point on, things like Right and Wrong, Good Bad; they don't seem to mean much anymore.
It's a shame. Gregson's a good man. Good taste in music.
<Entry No.77>
They did a census of all the people in the compound today. Age, gender, height etc. Gregson said it was to do with provisions or inventory or some army jargon, but it felt like he was entertaining himself more than anything. I think we all knew it couldn't really be about provisions. We don't have any provisions.
It was, at least enlightening to find out the nature of the survivors in our little group. Aside from Gregson, the last vestiges of humanity are not warriors. We are timid and ordinary people; some families, a lot of youngish men and women and a very small number of children, all of whom are skinny and on the short side. It is not survival or fighting skills that have kept us alive so far, we have no particular drive or passion for life. I think it's mostly just the ability to run inconspicuously. That's how we've ended up here alive. In total there is a community of 34 in the compound. 34 inconspicuous runners.
<Entry No.78>
I have never heard the Hungry people scream as loudly as they did today. I couldn't help but remember the story of Jericho I learnt about in Sunday school. It actually made quite a lot of sense to me, crouched under a steel bed clutching ration packets to my chest. Punishment meted out to a dissolute race by an angry God would be a much more comfortable truth to deal with than the one I've had until now; this blind, senseless Hunger. No justice, no reason, no trumpet bearing armies and high impenetrable cities: blind, senseless Hunger.
My son said his first word today. It was 'ration'. He must have heard the word ration more than Daddy or Papa. I think this should have upset me more than it did.
Perhaps I've finally come to terms with the inanity of survival. I no longer have the part of me that wants to fight an existence where the only meaningful conversations can concern how best to avoid starvation.
Maybe I'm just happy he didn't say something else. Like dead. Or worse. Hungry.
<Entry No.79>
They're in. They're inside. They were outside and now they're not.
Gregson he just walked out there- just straight out why did he open the gate-he just walked out Jesus Christ and now they're in
jesus christ
All I know is underneath my steel bed. Me my son my rations there is nothing else. We'll be safe under here they won't find us. We're not Hungry. We're different.
We're not Hungry.
They're screaming-they're in
we're not Hungry
jesus Christ they're screaming
we're not Hungry
i can hear them
we're not Hungry
we're not Hungry
we're not Hungry
<Entry No. 80. End of Entries.>
joshua fit the battle of jericho
joshua fit the battle of jericho
and the walls came tumbling
The three circled the fire as its ambitious shadows grasped outwards to touch their faces. Their backs were quite cold in the night air. The trees, roots and leaves in curious collusion peered inwards to try and share in the secrets of these peculiar three, slowly dropping leaves as they did so. Their quietness was undetectable.
'You know, I'm getting a bit sick of woods' said one, who had the muddiest boots.
Looking around for a response and receiving none from the pensive faces of his companions, he began to whistle to fill the audible silence he had created. It was an aimless, yet pretty tune.
Unsettled by the incongruous whistling, another said gingerly 'So where do you think we'll stay now? His face was quietly concealed by a hood.
The third, a clear eyed person with complex, tousled hair look surprised to hear his hooded companion speak. He himself refrained from sharing his thoughts.
'Well does it really matter?' He glanced at his clear eyed friend who appeared enthralled by the fire. 'Where we've been there has been food, where we are there is food. I'm going to assume there will be food where we go. We have a fire and the clothes on our back and though I'm not too much of a fan of this whole sleep in a wooded copse thing, it appears to work pretty well for some of us. Why need we worry about what's to come? I'm pretty sure it hasn't happened yet' While delivering this rhetoric to his hooded companion he stood and paced about a bit. Upon finishing he sat down on a log and whistled the end of his tune.
'What if we never find a home?' The other meekly inquired from under his hood.
'Home? Is that what you want?' He became animated again, his whistling ceased. 'I don't know about you, but I've had just about as much home as I can handle' A crow seemed to vociferate a croak in assent.
The timid speaker withdrew further into his hood in attempt to retract his earlier comment. He still thought what he thought though.
The fire crackled on, unperturbed.
Running a hand through his tousled hair, with a slight discolouring of his clear eyes their silent companion prepared to speak. The wind died down slightly and the flames were no longer fanned, extinguishing some of them. He made sure his companions were watching him.
'Do we really need home?' Was his quiet question to the fire. 'We think we can go where we like, but we can't help but return home. But this tie doesn't exist, really. There's no real connection, people who don't understand just like to think there's one, yet still we are inexorably drawn home. Maybe it tethers us to safety. Maybe it holds us back. Maybe it is an anchor. Maybe a millstone' The fire appeared not to know which. After a long pause, he said 'I think we're all homeless'
The clear eyed, tousle-haired gentleman scratched his head and rested it on his dirt-worn knuckles, his opinion spoke. The others' eyes were downcast, thinking rebellious thoughts conspicuously. They remained this way together, asleep in their poses until night came to an end.
Upon seeing the sun tentatively signalling the morning, they gathered their things, stamped out the fire and swept it, removing any trace of their activities and began to walk out of the woods. They were again silent.
As they left, the trees continued to rustle, gossip and shed leaves in conspiracy. The leaves that fell remained on the ground, and they too rustled in their own way, despite having left the safety of the tree-tops. They rustled when curious strangers who sleep in wooded copses walked on them.
They were very much at home.
So I don't put anything on tumblr for months, I slap on the old page a collaboration Matt asked me to help him with and suddenly I get more notes than anything I've ever done and end up being featured on prose! I'm beginning to think I've been missing out while away from tumblr…
I must sincerely thank Matt for involving me with his amazing vision, and give him the credit he deserves as the main creative force behind this project. Wow, I really should do some more collaborations.
Please do have a gander at Matt's blog http://tooflytorecognize.tumblr.com/ I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as I do.
Jim Kennedy rubbed his hands together nervously as he scanned the room. He just got new glasses and they were pinching his nose. He stroked his bald head. A nervous tick left over from adolescence. The people that walked by were dressed in electronic clothing that had come out in 2170. The fabric was solar powered and automatically charged any electronic items on person. The only problem was that the public thought it was too gaudy in the 70s, but in the last ten years, they had slowly become more popular. Jim Kennedy was dressed in a black suit; something that never went out of style. Jim was a lanky man. His hair had started falling out when he was thirty. He always joked that he was lucky he had met his wife, Carol before all his hair fell out. That is, until she died. He sighed. The world was about to enter the twenty-third century and they still hadn't cured cancer.
They can put a colony on Mars, but they can't cure cancer. They can make a space elevator, but they can't cure cancer. They can engineer genetically optimal offspring for close to no cost, but they can't cure cancer.
He supposed that getting rid of the genetic disposition for cancer could be argued to be a cure, but that didn't help people like him and Carol, the last generation of which the majority was born naturally. Now close to ninety-eight per cent of all babies born this year were genetically engineered.
There was a little ding from the receptionist's scanner as she scanned in a new patient, another pregnant woman and her husband. Jim couldn't stand waiting rooms for exactly that reason. Everything has to ding nowadays. The pregnant woman had blonde hair and blue eyes, just like the receptionist, the husband and the majority of the younger people in the waiting room. No one was bald like Jim. Jim sighed; he and Carol had always joked about his baldness, as she would pat his head and say he was not bald, but merely streamlined. The jokes became less frequent during Carol's chemotherapy of course. Jim actually thought baldness quite suited her; she bore it with a grace and indifference which he quite admired.
He sighed again and stroked his head. Another ding sounded and a synthetic voice came across the tannoy: 'Mr Kennedy's appointment is now ready. Gene Therapy Technician, Doctor Savery is waiting in room M15'. Jim's watch told him the appointment was exactly on time. It irritated him.
Smoothing down his suit, he left the ding-filled waiting room and walked down an extraordinarily clean corridor to the door marked M15, G.T.T Savery M.D. He knocked and a voice told him to enter with rehearsed tranquility.
He pushed open the door made of minimalist frosted glass. On the other side was a simple office. A desk with its back to an open window sat on a grey shag carpet. London sat in the background. A goldfish swam in a gigantic tank all by itself on the right. The tank was a part of the wall. Behind the desk sat a fat man with a red face: the presumed Dr. Savery. His grotesque mustache sat like a brown caterpillar under his button nose.
He looked like a character out of a fairy tale. The type of character that deceives the naïve protagonist into mistrusting him.
Fortunately, Jim was no protagonist in any story. And even if he were to be, he would be far from the naïve type.
"I want a baby. My wife is dead. I want a son."
The cheerfulness drained from Savery's face. This gave Jim a little bit of satisfaction. "I see. I'm sorry for your loss. Do you have a sample of her DNA that we may use?"
"I do. I have a bit of her hair. And I want it to be genetically paired with mine."
"Naturally. What sort of package shall we give you? The standard? This includes the best resilience against disease, best possible physical specimen given the gene pool, and opting out of unsightly or undesirable characteristics. Choice of eye color and hair color. It's possible to give you some additional depth if we add a third party of DNA. We have some choice specimens to sample. They're a little on the pricey side, because of limited supply and high demand, but I think for a customer such as yourself, we can give you a special discount. Five per cent? Seven?"
"No. I don't want any of that. My wife and me only. And I want the characteristics to be randomized."
"Yes, I don't want any say in the matter."
"Sir, I don't understand. Your son could turn out to have a predisposition to heart disease or alcoholism that could be avoided. Or worse, he could turn out to be mentally handicapped."
"When you put it that way, there are some things I would like to have control over."
"There, I knew you were a reasonable man."
"I want him to be predisposed to male pattern baldness. I, my father, my grandfather, and my great grandfather all had male pattern baldness. I want my son to have male pattern baldness."
Savery's face contorted. "Are you joking? Is this a joke?"
Jim didn't say anything.
"I don't understand. Why would you refuse to give your child every advantage? It's just cruelty to withhold the best chance from them."
"Their best chance? I'm sorry, now I'm the one who is confused. I am giving my son the chance to understand what it means to be human. To find wonder and beauty in imperfection. When my wife died, she was bald. She was the most beautiful person I knew. Nobody comes close to her equal. She was not born with these so-called 'advantages'. This is what she would want. That his humanity and random roll of the dice fall where they may lie. And that the roll be viewed without the rose-colored lenses of 'fortune' against 'misfortune'. 'Advantage' against 'disadvantage'. 'Desirable' against 'undesirable'. What a juvenile way to look at things. What are we? Are we worshipers of the physical and appearance of youth and health? No. Death is inescapable. Bald or not, it's how we live life. Not how we look while we live it."
Savery was sitting back in his chair. It strained in the effort to hold him up. His floppy chin hung over his collar and rested on the knot of his tie. His eyes bugged out of his head. He looked like he was about to suffocate.
Jim rose from his chair. He put the vial with the DNA samples on the desk.
"Now do your job. Call me when you have our son. And keep your third party samples away from him."
With that, Jim walked out of that place, with no intention of returning to such a shrine of the vessel and not its contents.
If he had the choice, he would have walked out of that place with Carol and they would have made a child on their own.
He stopped and looked up at the overcast sky. "A promise is a promise, huh? I hope you think it's worth it."
And with the crack of sunshine through the clouds, he knew it was a resounding "Of course it is."
A collaboration with the highly talented Matt of http://tooflytorecognize.tumblr.com/ It was his idea to this sci-fi collaboration and it was an honour to be asked to do it with him and share a part of his vision. Please do enjoy :)
This is a dark night of the soul.
Letters are cascading with cluttersome anguish as they bang at my window; they make a score of jarring nuisances, attempting to assemble an inky soundtrack.
Nights like these, pertaining to this particular pain, they try so devilsomely hard to make themselves apparent. They try to seduce and attract me with the subtle ways one can arrange them, the prolific plosives and succulent sussurations, they try to make me their puppet.
One can abstain from them. One can avoid cunning and unexpected words like ubiquitous, try instead quotidian words like pavement or elbow.
But they always end up drawing me back in. I become lost in them.
Nights like these, I spend hours contemplating the unrelenting perfection of the word 'perspicaciousness', and marvel ceaselessly at Shakespearian syllables like 'soused gurnet'.
I am sometimes prevailed upon to wonder how much of me is just words. I often have little else to offer people, and little, or indeed nothing else about which to think. Or with which to think.
And yet they don't exist.
Well how can they? There is nothing material, tangible or plausible about them. They are concepts, precariously wobbling on the edge of reality, in a permanent state of befuddling quasi-existence. Without us they would never have even come into being; unless of course, they were there to begin with.
However on nights like these, they still seem to make quite amiable companions.
Maëlys was never what you would call a traditional housewife: She had always hated cooking, and never cooked anything more than was absolutely necessary, she hated anything involving needles and thread or the word 'crochet' and she outright refused to let her husband say 'honey, I'm home!' on pain of immediate and un-ceremonious castration. Maëlys was never particularly keen on stereotypes, and liked to be independent of the constraints of the ordinary and uninteresting. She decided long ago she would shape her own character, that there was no need to fit a brief in life.
Having said that, when the family lived in a house in one of those cloying little villages you only find in England, where church fetes and baking competitions are common practice, she couldn't help but feel a little bit of envy for those 'perfect' housewives next to whom she lived. They would always be immaculately made up, delicately clutching a vase of hydrangeas or a geometrically indefectible Victoria Sponge cake, wearing light, wispy dresses and winning colourful rosettes for their chutneys and tarts. Maëlys would see them, and although her first reaction would to be to scoff them as automatons and conformists, she would often feel a pang of underlying jealously for their apparent affluence. Or perhaps even guilt; she would often wonder if one of those skinny little things with the Bakewell tarts would have actually made her husband happier if he had married one of them instead. This was certainly untrue, as he would often be scoffing along with Maëlys at these frilly clones, but the fear was still there.
That was why, now that the family was moving house, Maëlys decided to make a slight change to herself; she was going to make gardening her personal project. Gardening wasn't like baking a cake or knitting; it didn't involve frilly pinafores, the word 'crochet' or other such nonsense. Gardening was earthy, wholesome and productive, and yet it was still a respectable housewife occupation. The new house had a big, long garden next to the driveway, and it already had flowerbeds ready for planting. She could see it now, it was going to be a beautiful sight: dozens of beautiful colours stemming from the blossoms of dozens of plants, all of them individual to her creation and care, all of them a sign of her affluence and skill. She allowed herself to become quite excited about it all.
However, it seemed that whatever random and inexplicable forces which govern the coincidences that take place on this Earth had different plans in my mind for Maëlys and her garden.
Whenever a moving van or someone who wished to help move needed to park in the driveway, Maëlys and her husband would have to move their cars onto Maëlys' garden. Maëlys was assured that this would not harm the garden, nor make it any more difficult to plant flowers in it and it probably wouldn't have either. Just so long as it didn't rain.
It was almost as if English weather decided to rise to the challenge. Because it rained. It rained a lot. Not just cats and dogs but guinea pigs and impala and all the bloody animals at the zoo too. And what that meant for poor Maëlys was that her beautiful garden turned into a slushy, muddy pulp. So now the ground was too flooded to plant anything and Maëlys' vision of a colourful garden which would make even the best baker of jam sponges jealous had become nothing but a sea of vapid brown.
'I just wish I could have had this one thing, you know' Maëlys said to her husband one evening.
'I know, I'm very sorry about that, it is a terrible shame. Perhaps you could ask Alan Titchmarsh to wave his wand and turn it back into a garden, eh?' He replied in a very tired attempt to cheer her up. Needless to say, it didn't really work.
But over the next few weeks after the family had settled into their new home, a rather wonderful occurrence began to take place.
Out of the muddy mess which Maëlys' garden had become, dozens of poppies began to sprout, grow and spread their gentle red petals, to such an extent that the entirety of the garden was transformed into a dotted canvas of crimson, creating such a thick canopy that the ground could not be seen for poppies. It was, in short quite astonishingly pretty.
Maëlys could hardly believe it. Neither could her husband.
'How'd you do this?' He asked.
'I didn't do a thing. The seeds must have been in the soil from a long time ago and the churning of the Earth brought them back to the surface again. I've read about this happening on occasion, like Flander's fields sort of thing, but it's very rare. Especially in this… quantity'
'Well perhaps they were waiting for the right person to come along.' Maëlys turned to look at her husband. They both started to laugh.
After that, people were always knocking on their door to tell them how beautiful their garden looked, and asking how they came up with the idea to do it. Maëlys would just smile and say it came to her in a dream.
The family never moved out of that house, and Maëlys kept the garden liked that the whole time, tending to her poppies well into old age.
And no one ever made a jam sponge that could compare to Maëlys's garden.
Herbert Clark's tie began to itch.
It was only a slight sensation at first, but it started to increase exponentionally after time, until it became impossible for Herbert to focus on what on Earth was going on in the meeting to which he was supposed to be paying close attention.
The sensation wasn't like scratchy wool or rough fabric. It was like an insect. Something small and carnivorous biting his neck and throat incessantly, sucking and dredging all the impetus out of him. It was a small thing, an itchy tie, but it wasn't the only small thing that was affecting Herbert. And lots of small things can become quite momentous when combined.
It was a hot day. In response to this someone had placed an electric fan in the corner. The fan moved from side to side with agonising slowness, and clicked every time it got to the extreme of one side before moving on to the next. It whirred and clucked and was annoyingly mesmerising; it was one of those instances in which bored people become transfixed by annoying things, unable to tear away for lack of interest elsewhere. It was also useless; no one in the room felt its air. Herbert dubbed it the 'Sisyphus fan' in his head, which was a brief source of amusement; largely because he liked the idea of that fan spending eternity in hell completing a pointless and impossible task.
The other men in this room were irritating Herbert too. They all looked so God damn similar! Each one: a black or grey suit with a white shirt and tie, shoes polished to earnestly gleaming perfection, hair slicked back and a forced smile that said 'I'm really listening to your input'. Herbert in that instance could read those smiles though. He saw that none of them cared about executive claptrap like synergy, they were all really thinking 'How best can I kiss arse so I can brown nose my way into a promotion?' or something achingly similar to that.
But what really sickened Herbert, was the realisation that he looked just like that too.
Upon having this epiphany, Herbert abruptly stood up. All the identical business faces in the room turned to look at him, including the executive leading the meeting, who stopped talking about synergy to stare daggers at Herbert.
Barely even registering these faces anymore, Herbert began to take off his very itchy tie, and tie it neatly around his head. He then proceeded to take off his shining shoes as well, and then did the same with his trousers, blaser and shirt.
Finally, wearing nothing but a very sweaty vest, boxer shorts and a tie around his head, he proceeded to walk the length of the meeting room to the dumbfounded executive by the door who was leading the talk, and kissed him squarely on the forehead. The executive did nothing, he just stood there in amazement.
Herbert looked at the people in the room for a while, taking in their flabbergasted expressions. He no longer felt contempt for them, he was past that. No, now he felt only pity.
After a short period of drinking in this silence, he eventually opened his mouth and said:
'Sorry fellas, I'm not just not feeling very synergetic today'
With that, he opened the door and left the company forever.
They say he makes fans now.
My notebook is untidy.
I don't write in it, I scrawl and splurge ink onto its delicate pages, ripping and tearing but keeping it intact. Every time I put my pen against it I'm forcing myself on it, trying to fit the entirety of my tatterdemalion mind roughly in between its covers.
The leather is worn, the binding's going and the latch on the front no longer clicks because I take it with me everywhere and it doesn't fit in my pocket. It had a design on the cover but that's long since faded. My designs are the only architecture allowed in my notebook.
My hand writing is awful too. I take a garish red pen and scratch and scribble with it, leaving something aesthetically atrocious that barely resembles English and only I can read. Every other word is crossed out or looks like it has been crossed out, but never both.
But I like it that way.
My notebook looks like the inside of my head, and I don't want the writing in it to look pretty or to be evenly spaced like a word document. I want my writing to look like someone's torn themselves apart with a pen, and my blotchy red scrawls are the bloody aftermath.
And if that means it looks like a two year old has been given a pen and a notebook to shut them up,
So be it.
I've been told,
that writing is very attractive.
I've been told,
that bleeding literature gently onto parchment
is a great way to get a girl.
So I cut open my pen now and let literary blood coagulate,
but all the girls are out talking to boys,
and I'm extending metaphors in my pyjamas.
He walked calmly to the beach. People played and did beach things; they seemed to enjoy the fulfilment of stereotypical activities.
He wore a shirt with buttons, light of colour but not sanguine: an aged wistfulness, more like. He also wore shorts with parrots on them. They were very bright.
He walked over to a part of the beach largely clear of beachgoers with some particularly nice sand, and set to work on making a sand castle.
The sand castle he started to make was going to be very big. It was going to surprise lifeguards who have been attending beaches all their working lives, Intently and intermittently inattentively watching beach activities for hours on end, and hence had become close to experts on sand castles. None of them had ever seen a sand sculpture so ambitious.
The man with the parrot shorts and the nice shirt had no spade; he instead used his hands. It was difficult that way, but he knew that difficult things are often worth doing. Besides, this way, he knew the castle was truly his; his hands were all that touched it from beginning to completion, the only mechanism of construction being him. It was his creation, nothing to do with any spade manufacturer. This was nice somehow.
He was getting along fine the way he was, too. The sand castle grew and grew at an alarming rate, his hands shaping and patting with satisfying regularity. And it wasn't just a lump of sand either: stunningly intricate crenellations were shaped under sandy fingertips and walls were patted until they reached an impregnable sheen of solidity, belying the fragility of sand as a building material. It wasn't long before people came along and became quite interested in this man, his parrot shorts and his magnificent castle.
And as its shape and stature became clearer, people began to see stories in its architecture. Plots and strange, far-off characters amongst the delicate battlements. Meaning became attached irrepressibly to the structure.
People all seemed to see different tales in the man's castle.
One came along and said 'That's where I lived as a child. Not out loud, I mean. I mean, you know, in my head'.
Another said 'That's the baron's castle. But he's only evil because he wasn't given ice cream as a child you know'.
And another said 'Craig lives there. He measures moustaches and fights dragons'.
People seemed to see the man's marvellous sculpture and drop all inhibitions and let flow their deepest imaginations, leaving all sorts of strange and tall tales told to confused ears.
Long after the creation was finished, people came to see the attraction and there was a great gathering of people around the castle. No one took any pictures; this would have usually been quite strange but all who might have normally were too dumbfounded to think about saving this memory, except as an actual memory. They did talk though. Not just amongst friends, but freely, with everyone they could. They conversed fluidly about the castle and the narrative they saw in it no matter who they were, until it got too dark to see the castle anymore, and they all went home.
The man in the parrot shorts stayed a while though, to look at his castle. He saw through the darkness all of their stories at once, played out among the crumbling spires and hallways of an unusual sand castle.
In the morning, the sand castle was gone. So was the man and his nice shirt and parrot shorts. Tides have a way of doing that; rendering all things impermanent.
After that, everyone just decided to get on with their lives. It had happened, it was wonderful, but it's not going to happen again.
But everyone who witnessed the man, his parrot shorts and his castle remembers this event with stunning clarity.
And a lot of them now tell it as a story at parties or to friends or grandsons, their eyes lit with passion as they recount that wondrous experience.
No one ever believes them.
A short story based on the blog: ford-notthebloodycar-collier
because he asked nicely
Shaken from the rocky terrain of her mind, Alice gathered up her loose papers before the final bell had time to stop its overzealous peal. She slipped her backpack over thin shoulders and scurried from the emptying class as fast as her legs would carry her.
Making her way to the furthest room in the school, Alice felt like a fish trying to swim against the current. She kept her head down and pushed through the eager afternoon rush until she exited the main hallway and was the only occupant of the lonely hall.
Her steps slowed to a stop and her ears gently perked at the notes filling the empty corridor. The sounds were tentative at first, choppy. She smiled, knowing that he was just messing around and settling in. He always needed a grace period to empty his mind out before he really got going.
She stayed where she was until the notes began to rush toward her. When they swelled big enough to fill the hall, she started toward the classroom. She was careful not to be noticed as she approached the glass for a small peek inside.
The rest of the room was drab and lifeless, but the piano and the boy at the bench defied the small space. His hands danced over waiting keys, inciting a riot of beautiful sound.
He moved fluidly, with a secret smile that stayed strictly between him and the well-worn instrument. She had spent her fair share of time trying to figure out the puzzle in that smile, but she knew she was missing a few of the pieces and left it alone.
Delighted by the scene, Alice dropped her backpack and settled in on the scuffed floor, second hand guitar draped across her lap. With a door between them, she stretched her nimble fingers and began to play.
A piece Estee wrote about me (because I shamelessly begged her to) which actually had a genuine emotional resonance for me.
And it's also bloody brilliant.
(Source: awholenewnormal)
There was a moment.
I was going home. It was my Dad's car and we crested a hill.
I'd hardly looked out of the window on this journey, but I decided to then and I saw a building.
The thing is, it was more than just a building. I looked up and it struck me as something otherworldy, as it was so perfectly and peculiarly backlit to the point it became any conceivable structure possible, almost amorphous because of the light, but somehow uniquely powerful. I couldn't rightly tell what it was, cresting the hill. Orange light swanned out gingerly from behind it, in such an affecting colour; it was so immensely warm, it seemed more potent than sunlight, a colour somewhere in between the radiance of firelight and the sweetness of a tangerine. I thought it had to be a sunset, and one of those 'tricks of the light' you hear about that had made it look so odd: there's nothing else that could look so warming and affecting, even if it was a strange colour.
I didn't consider how peculiar it is to see a sunset at 11 o' clock at night. To be fair, the whole sight was quite peculiar, and I wouldn't have doubted any solution, so awestruck was I.
As we went further over the hill on which the building was situated, and the vision of this small, shadowy-fronted structure haloed in orange gradually became what it was, I was actually quite surprised.
It was quite sudden.
We came over the hill and it was floodlights in a car park behind a pub.
That was it. A pub and some floodlights.
The really strange thing is though, I still don't know whether I'm disappointed or not.
And sometimes, the smallest girl grows up and out until she is sure the tips of her fingers will graze wisps of sky. Despite everything she keeps her arms locked at her sides.
Chin tucked into chest, she smiles. Secretly, she knows what it is to be endless.
At night, when there is no one left to look, her arms reach so she can cradle starless sky. Nimble fingers shred clouds like tear away pieces of cotton candy.
She allows herself a taste and then back to the business of gathering dreams.
She lives humbly, hiding cotton-candy magnificence from the others. The others make their business normality; not as exciting as dream gathering, but with better hours.
The smallest girl doesn't care about this though, she's happy to spend her daylight hours fabricating the illusion of being infinitesimal.
This way, at night she can become all the more tremendous.
It's then that dreams become her strawberry jam and tea cake, her flowery wallpaper or her eccentric aunt: one of those peculiar little pleasures in which one indulges from time to time, but never publicly or with friends.
She keeps her compiled dreams for herself, locked away in a leather-bound notebook with a cloud for a book mark. She looks at them when she's alone.
The smallest girl holds the door open for you and receives no thank you, the smallest girl gets a haircut that no one notices, the smallest girl never gets more than a second glance from people in the street: she's practically invisible.
But you should keep your eyes peeled for the smallest girl, because one day you might come across her and not pass her by. And if you notice her and you stop to appreciate her and you're very, very careful not to step on her, she might just let you see her full height.
Trust me, it is worth the wait: For in her quiet growth there is an astounding beauty that confounds the ordinary with unusual wonder; sweet as candy floss, twice as addictive, and infused with the odour of far off dreams.
Good luck finding her.
Estee- italics
Ford- regular text


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Tag: NextGeneration911
How Siri could change the 911 emergency system
Right now, the 911 emergency call system is designed to accept one thing -- phone calls. However, the US is on the verge of moving to Next Generation 911, which is a dramatic upgrade to the system that allows communications to be made via voice, video, and text. GigaOM's John Wilson postulates...
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- iOS 8.0.1 update now available (Updated -- Don't update!)
- NFL Mobile updated for 2014 Season with new Fantasy Football features, NFL Now integration
- Yahoo Mail improves email inbox searching with new filtering options
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- Spotify update adds equalizer, refreshed Artist page and more
- Fantastical 2.1 for iOS adds new snooze, search and notification features


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|By Cloud News Desk
Article Rating:
|April 27, 2009 07:45 AM EDT
Full-Day Cloud Computing Bootcamp will take place during SYS-CON's Cloud Computing Conference & Expo Europe, May 18-19, in Prague.
Cloud computing is an opportunity for businesses to implement low-cost, low-power and high-efficiency systems to deliver scalable infrastructure. But moving to a cloud infrastructure is not necessarily as nice and clean as the providers would want you to think. With cloud infrastructures problems don't magically go away; they just shift: you don't have scalability or storage problems any more, but you need to constantly monitor the cloud and your application in it.
Led by Alan Williamson, the Cloud Computing Bootcamp will illustrate all the major players and provide a hands-on program with configuration samples, live demos and working setups you can further adapt and play with.
Alan Williamson, founder of Blog-City.com, is a Sun Java Champion and creator of OpenBlueDragon (an open source Java CFML runtime engine). He is currently engaged with a number of startups providing technology and expertise. He has worked with SpikeSource for nearly three years as technical evangelist and architect in SpikeLabs. He has assisted VCs in preparing technical overview and due diligence, was editor-in-chief of Java Developer's Journal, founding editor of LinuxWorld Magazine, and has more than 16 years of experience in the world of software development.
Click Here to Register Now and Save!
Join Alan Williamson and your fellow attendees at the Cloud Computing Bootcamp May 18-19, 2009 at thePrague Hilton.
- Cloud People: A Who's Who of Cloud Computing
- Cloud Expo New York Call for Papers Now Open
- Red Hat Named "Platinum Sponsor" of Virtualization Conference & Expo
- Cloud Expo 2011 East To Attract 10,000 Delegates and 200 Exhibitors
- An Introduction to Ant
- Cloud Expo, Inc. Announces Cloud Expo 2011 New York Venue
- The Cloud Bubble: Is Computing Becoming a Utility?
- How To Use Social Media in Your Job Search
- Cloud Computing Bootcamp May 18-19 in Prague, Czech Republic
- Telco Perl Powers Telephony With Linux
- Rackspace Cloud APIs Open Sourced
- This Man Should Be Fired from His Job as a Magazine Editor


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Does it have a kit lens or anything... even a kit 50mm? Didn't see one in the images, so figured I would ask. Also, do you know how many shutter actuations it has?
Sorry, didn't see your reply. No lens. No idea on actuations, I'd guess around 35k. It hasn't been used in a couple years, until I took it out and tested it before putting it up for sale.
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New Samsung NX-series has APS-C sensor with EVF!
Samsung pleasantly surprised everyone today at PMA 2009 by announcing their new NX-series cameras. The defining characteristics of the new NX-camera series are an APS-C sensor, an EVF display (with LiveView) instead of a mirror box and optical viewfinder, and a smaller body size.
The first cameras in the series are expected to arrive in the second half of 2009. So it looks like the "hybrid" system got accelerated from the previously estimated 2010 delivery. Apparently they were playing "marketing possum".
This is part of Samsung's plan for world domination. As we wrote before, Samsung can't reach the global #1 spot with just point and shoot cameras, so the NX-series will certainly give them a boost among enthusiast and advanced photographers.
Unfortunately this is all Samsung has revealed at this time, this is more of a development notice than a specific product announcement.
However, by looking at the top view of the camera (see picture) we see that there is a movie mode, hot-shoe (investigate the contacts!), and "PASM" (manual exposure, shutter and aperture priority).
New! Focus Numerique has new pictures from Samsung France and they show zoom lenses, and FN goes on to speculate that they look like image-stabilized lenses.
This will also be interesting to see how it plays out in Pentax's plans. As you may recall, there was a Pentax back-of-the-camera leak yesterday, and the back of that camera looks not that much different. However, the Pentax leak looks like it is a "typical" 24X superzoom compact.
Further Reading
+ Press release at Imaging Insider
+ Engadget - six camera body pictures with adorable pancake lens!
+ CNet Asia - four camera-body colors (black, silver, blue, red)
+ Focus Numerique has pictures of super-zoom lenses
+ mock-up will be shown at Samsung's booth at PMA says dpreview
+ Opinion at Digital Camera Resource
+ Opinion at Let's Go Digital
+ DC Resource
+ Twice.com
Unanswered Questions
+ lens mount and lenses
+ how about image stabilization?
+ exact sensor size
+ camera feature set
+ hot-shoe/flash compatibility
+ price-range


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24 months lock-in for HD Postpaid subscriptions. Pre-termination fees apply.
Cignal Satellite Kit includes satellite dish (antenna, mountings, peripherals), set-top box, RCA cable, 15 meters RG6 cable,remote control, and Cignal card.
Monthly Box Maintenance Fee is charged per account and provides perpetual warranty on the digital box(es) per account. Workmanship will be charged separately.
* For the Box, a minimum installation fee of P1,000 applies but may vary depending on location and materials needed.
**For the 2nd/3rd box, installation charge is P500 if done along with the 1st box. Otherwise, the minimum installation fee of P1,000 applies.
Phil. Driver's License
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• Submitted service application forms and required documents are subject for review and approval by Cignal TV, Inc.
• Applications with incomplete requirements will not be processed.


text:
Welcome to the Strathroy Lions Club in Strathroy, Ontario, Canada!
District A-1 – Region 24 – Zone 6 – Chartered May 1924
The Strathroy Lions Hall is located at 432 Albert St, Strathroy, ON
Phone: (519) 245-2819
- BINGO is every Monday (except Holidays and Summer Months)at the Lions Hall!
Sponsored by the Strathroy Lions Club with proceeds to Lions causes and projects. Doors open at 6:00 pm, bingo starts at 7:00 pm
Bingo starts again Monday Sept. 9th


text:
For the past two years the MRC centre and the Neuroscience and Mental Health Institute have had a stall at the Neath-Port Talbot Careers Fair at Margam Orangery. The event run by Careers Wales West aims to inform schoolchildren from South West Wales as to the many career paths open to them. Representing Genetic Science, Research on the Brain and Life at a University, six researchers spent the day (Thursday 29th September 2011) discussing the work they do, answering questions about their job, engaging with issues and testing them on their knowledge of the brain.
The stall was a mixture of informative games, props and information about the research we do.
1000 schoolchildren in years 9-10 from Cefn Saeson, Dwr-y-Felin, Llangatwg, Dyffryn, Cwmtawe, Sandfields, St Joseph's, Cwrt Sart, Cymer Afan were invited to the Careers Fair and were welcomed at our stall by Dr. William Davies, Dr. Jamie Lewis, Dr Evangelia Steriakouli, Ms Jessica Watts, Ms Eleni Kopsida, and Ms Martha Hvoslef-Eide.
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text:
We seem to be amassing a following…
We seem to be amassing a following…
eternaloroborus started following you
wulfyy started following you
countianthe started following you
dashofimagination started following you
obscurebreakdown started following you
Welcome to the Hellsing Organization >:)
Integra roamed the hallways of her establishment in complete silence. For once she had all of her work complete and there wasn't a crisis in dire need of fixing. She didn't know what to do with herself. Scowling a portrait of her uncle (Why did she leave that up?) as she passed, she made up her mind to chance the courtyard for a little air.
Hellsing Ultimate OVA 8 ( VIII ) New Trailer - 27/07/2011
Put a number in my ask and I'll tell you my favorite…
- Movie
- TV Show
- Song
- Animal
- Color
- Word
- Candy
- Thing to Do
- Quote
- Magazine
- Holiday
- Accent
- Number
- Clothing Store
- Season
- Book
- Actress
- Actor
- Food
- Drink
- Letter
- Cereal
- Fruit
- Band
(Source: prettyyylittleeeliarsss)
Seras Victoria, a police girl injured in a fight, will now be joining the Hellsing Organization.
We'll be writing from the mangas of both, starting with the origional leading into the newest one as well as creating alittle from our own. Enjoy.
My Master gives me the orders and I am to follow what my master says
Welcome to the Hellsing Organization.
ALUCARD- http://hellsings-alucard.tumblr.com/
Integra Hellsing- http://integrahellsing.tumblr.com/
Seras Victoria-http://serasvictoria-hellsing.tumblr.com/
Walter C. Dornez-
Alexander Anderson-
Enrico Maxwell-
Heinkel Wolfe-
Yumi Tagaki-


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Timbers Army
18 buses, 1,500 Timbers Army members: Here we come Seattle
Fri, 10/05/2012
With large contingent of fans heading north, importance of Cup not lost on team
Thu, 10/04/2012
Timbers still in driver's seat for Cascadia Cup needing a win or draw in Seattle to secure it
Thu, 10/04/2012
Portland Timbers
Timbers Army disappointed not to get Cup but happy with rally
Sun, 09/16/2012
Special to MLSsoccer.com
Ricketts: I know the fans are up for this one. They want this one.
Thu, 09/13/2012
Unique soccer and film event comes to Portland for first time ever; Fucito to talk on panel
Tue, 09/11/2012
Portland Timbers
Club holds prices steady for second consecutive season
Tue, 08/28/2012
Portland Timbers
Nike, Lompoc Brewing, Widmer Brothers & Tursi's all into the championship round on Aug. 18
Wed, 08/15/2012
Portland Timbers
How Conner Firstman battled cancer, won the RCTID contest and met Robby Larson
Wed, 08/08/2012
Portland Timbers
See fans and players share their BBQ stories and pictures on Twitter
Mon, 07/30/2012
Portland Timbers
Goals by Boyd & Horst power Portland to 2-1 victory over Seattle
Sun, 06/24/2012
The 2011 1-1 draw marks the start of the MLS era of the Cascadia battle
Fri, 06/22/2012
Portland Timbers
Players and coaches welcome fans to stadium in special evening
Wed, 06/13/2012
Portland Timbers
See highlights of the evening via Twitter and Instagram posts
Wed, 06/13/2012
Portland Timbers
Timbers players, coaches and staff all helping contribute in the community this spring
Mon, 06/04/2012
Portland Timbers


text:
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