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Published on January 14th, 2017 | by Anna Nikipirowicz
7 commentsStitch School: Fair Isle in the round with Anna Nikipirowicz
This week, learn how to knit the Fair Isle technique in the round – a fantastic way to add motifs to socks, gloves and garments!
Fair Isle is a knitting technique that allows you to knit with two or more colours across a row creating beautiful patterns. A traditional Fair Isle pattern uses only two colours per row and has a small number of stitches between each colour change. Fair Isle is knitted in stocking stitch and produces warm double thickness fabric due to carrying the yarns not in use across the back, but the art of good Fair Isle is not to pull the yarns too tightly, so you achieve fabric that is elastic and not puckered.
I have found the easiest way to knit Fair Isle in the round is using the two-handed method, it is a little be tricky to master this technique at first, but it is worth the effort as this method is very quick and produces very even work. Not only that, but by knitting in the round you can see the pattern better which allows you to spot mistakes, stranding your colours and knitting using the two-handed method is easier on a knit stitch, and this is the technique I would like to teach you today.
Fair Isle patterns are charted, and we will work from the chart below which is a round chart and is read from right to left.
4mm Double Pointed Needles and small amounts of 2 colours, I'm using Cascade 220 Aran.
Using colour A cast on 40 sts distribute sts evenly over 3 needles (13, 13, 14 sts) using 4th needle and taking care not to twist the cast on edges, continue as follows (you may wish to place a marker to denote the beginning of round):
Work row 1 of chart:
The contrast colour should always be carried from the beginning of a round, even if the colour isn't used for a few stitches, this will ensure that the thickness of fabric is consistent.
Join the contrast colour by placing it on top of the main colour or you can join the new yarn by a little knot which you can undo at the end of work and weave in the end.
Colour dominance
Before we start knitting in pattern using two colours we must decide which will be our dominant colour.
It is paramount in Fair Isle knitting that the two yarns are held consistently, one colour will be held on top and the other below. The yarn held below will have a slightly longer stitch, which means that this colour will be more dominant and will ''pop'' more. So if you would like the motif to stand out pick this yarn from below the background yarn.
In my sample I want yarn B (burgundy) to be dominant and yarn A (grey) to be the background so yarn B is held below yarn A.
Now we have chosen our dominant colour is time to place them in the correct hands and start knitting.
When you knit Fair Isle using the two-handed method the dominant colour (B) is held in the left hand and the background colour (A) is held in the right hand. Place the yarns on the corresponding sides of work, this will prevent them from tangling.
Place yarn A in your right hand and yarn B over the index finger of your left hand. You will knit the stitches with yarn A as normal and when yarn B is needed simply place the right-hand needle over yarn B and bring the yarn through the stitch, just as in continental knitting.
Make sure that yarn B is picked up from below of yarn A:
Stranding yarns
Continue from chart to round 7.
If you look at round 8 of our chart you will notice that the spaces between colour changes are 7 stitches long. We must still carry yarn B with us all the way, so it is important that we strand yarn A every 3 sts at the back of the work to prevent big loops forming.
There is a very simple way of doing this when you are knitting Fair Isle using the two-handed method.
Work 3 stitches in yarn A and insert right-hand needle into the 4th stitch as normal, place yarn B on top of the needle.
Knit the stitch with yarn A in your right hand:
As you finish the stitch make sure that yarn B doesn't come through as well. Knit the next stitch to lock the yarn in place.
As you can see in the pic above yarn B is neatly placed on top of yarn A.
Tip: when you pull tightly on yarns your work will pucker, to prevent this simply spread the stitches on your right-hand needle every few stitches.
Why not try practising your newly gained technique on these fab Annys gloves which I designed exclusively for the LoveKnitting app?
Read more about the LoveKnitting app for iPad and iPhone!
Last updated: January 16th, 2017.
7 Responses to Stitch School: Fair Isle in the round with Anna Nikipirowicz
I love knitting. My MIL taught me many years ago. Today I am taking my 6 year old Grandson for his first lesson. He is left handed so when I tried to teach him it wasn't as good experience as I had hoped for. The instructor today teaches both left and right handed. What do you think of that? Good idea or really shouldn't matter?
I am a lefty and my parents both knitters and righthanded. I learned to knit like my parents. You use two hands to knit, so i think it doesn't matter. When teaching my own children – one righty and a lefty – I used the righthanded method – no problem. The same with a knife and fork – No reason to have a
lefty do it differently – you have to use two hands!
I would love to knit these fair isle gloves. Unfortunately I have an android tablet and phone – no apple products.
Fantastic advice. Am currently knitting the lopi Iceland gloves.Its my first time using dpns and admit that keeping track of the two strands and balls was tricky and time consuming. Can't wait to try this out!
The Fair Isle "practice" chart would make a great excercise to learn steeking. Would it be possible to convert it into a steeking chart and, even better, add a "how to" blog post to it?
This looks fantastic but i also have an android so can't use the app.
When is the app due to be released for android? -
Shiver me timbers, them's some great innfmratioo.


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- By R. D. Lord, IRWIN GREENBERG
- 2010
In a recent note in this journal Gillis and Weiss [1] have evaluated as a finite sum, and found a recurrence relation for, the integral (1) Cnt = / e~xLr(x)L,(x)L,(x) dx, Jo which gives the coefficients in the expansion Lr(x)Ls(x) = ^CtLtix), where L " (x) denotes the Laguerre polynomial, (2) L " (x) = Z(-l)'(ri)//r! This attracted my interest since about… (More)
Inexact or real-world queueing techniques are used to determine that the number of buffers provided in system design is indeed adequate to guard against message loss.
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Felt: Critters - CHICKS
These numerous and new felt "Critter - XXX" boards are, basically, "Ideas!" and/or "Work" boards for my personal use in possible future needle felting endeavors, and will be used as receptacles for collecting assorted (similar) and hodgepodge (dissimilar) miscellaneous materials on specific critters, while anticipating and/or speculating over potential future use. Hopefully, they'll aid in organizing my thoughts, while keeping all the other needle felting boards more pleasing to use...
3 Piny110 Obserwujący
MASTER CLASS -- "BRINGING DOWN THE SOFT CHICKEN (wet + dry felting)" by ELENA POTAPOVA FELTED FLEUR SHOPPE - (kzkz-me) -- October 21, 2012 -- [to translate: #1- "COPY" opened webaddress; #2- "PASTE" into google search bar; #3- hit "ENTER"; #4- from first entry on google search results page "SELECT" gray "Translate this page".] [M/c]


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British progressive metallers THRESHOLD will release their new album, "For The Journey", on September 19 via Nuclear Blast. The follow-up to 2012's "March Of Progress" was produced at Thin Ice Studios in England by THRESHOLD members Karl Groom (guitars) and Richard West (keyboards) and was mastered by Mika Jussila at Finnvox in Finland.
Commented West: "'For The Journey' is one of our strongest albums and one of the most enjoyable to make. I've probably heard it a thousand times during the recording process, but now that's it's over, I still can't stop listening to it!"
"For The Journey" track listing:
01. Watchtower on the Moon
02. Unforgiven
03. The Box
04. Turned to Dust
05. Lost in your Memory
06. Autumn Red
07. The Mystery Show
08. Siren Sky
Bonus tracks:
09. I Wish I Could (digipak, vinyl and digital versions)
10. Lost in your Memory (acoustic version) (vinyl and digital versions)
The cover artwork was created by Polish artist Leszek Bujnowski, whom THRESHOLD found on the Internet. "He's designed some beautiful pieces and we thought this was a perfect THRESHOLD cover," stated West.
THRESHOLD's ninth studio album, "March Of Progress", was released on August 31, 2012 via Nuclear Blast Records.
THRESHOLD: More 'For The Journey' Album Details Revealed
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Once the nucleus of the city, the 4,000 feet above sea level Old Kampala hill is now mostly a mixture of residential and commercial area with several bars, cafes and shops. The buildings are mostly of Indian style. Though now renovated, the architecture has been maintained to preserve their place in the country's history.
The site where Captain Fredrick Lugard built his fort has been preserved. It is near the Old Kampala mosque opposite Old Kampala Senior Secondary School.
Old Kampala is also the seat of the Uganda Muslim Supreme Council.
This is a beehive of activity-both trading and leisure. Numerous shops line Rashid Khamis Road and Martin Road, the popular streets here. Drinking is a favorite pastime, with revelers crowding under garden umbrellas, eating nyama choma (roast meat) and washing it down with beer. And it goes on like this every day, with greater intensity during the weekends. Not even the early morning or mid-day call of the Muezzin to the Muslim faithful to prayer interrupts the fun
Old Kampala Hill
Posted in Kampala City, Uganda Travel Directory


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I can't believe that Thanksgiving is this Thursday! It seems like Halloween was only yesterday! I hope everyone is ready! We have our stretchy pants washed and dried, so we are ready to feast! For us (Chicken Legs actually), Thanksgiving is not complete without an amazing dessert. If you are still looking for one (or two), here are some of our favorites:
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
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I just applied for a basic Internet service and got a hard pull on my credit report.
I am paying for the device in full which means I am not leasing the Modem and I am paying for the service each month beforehand so there is not actually any need for a credit inquiry as AT&T is not lending me any money or equipment.
I want to send the company a letter to complain about this unauthorized unnecessary credit inquiry. What address should I use to send my mail?
Hello, samic130!
Thanks for posting. The credit check is a standard procedure that takes place anytime a new account is established. We would be happy to address any concerns you may have, so please click here to send us a private message.
In your message, please provide your name, phone number, email address, and the best time to reach you. You can expect a reply within two business days, so keep an eye on the little blue envelope icon in the the top right corner of your screen.
In the meantime, please feel free to message me with any other questions or concerns.
08-14-2014 9:26 AM - edited 08-14-2014 9:31 AM
08-14-2014 9:26 AM - edited 08-14-2014 9:31 AM
Credit check is there to help lenders to determine whether the person is going to give back or not.
As I said, I'm not leasing the modem and AT&T is not lending me money or anything else.
'Openning account' doesn't give permission to run credit inquiry. The same way that Gmail can't do a credit check everytime you open an account with them.
BTW that was not an answer to my question.
I applied for Internet access & home phone. My credit score above 720. I wanted Samsung S6. I am about to apply for home loan. so have been working on my credit score diligently. keep card balance down to less than 15% not apply for any loans whatsoever so I can keep my credit score at excellent & save thousand of dollar in interest rate for home loan. So when ATT rep informed me there will be acredit check if I want to buy Samsung Galaxy S6, I told him I dont want it & dont want to bundle home phone internet & wireless becuase I dont want hard inquiry on my credit. this Indian rep start asking my aout effect of credit inquiries and I educated him. He was a supervisor. He assured several time If I placed utility order only there will be no credit check. & I was thinking about paying outright cash $900 for Samsung Galaxy S6. Does that show you how much I guard my credit scor. I never provided my SSN. I check my credit report & there it was a hard inquiry from AT&T.This was blatant lie & illegal at the best.
I dont know where AT&T finds these people who are not only un-educated about US systems but are liers & would do naything to ear commission or show progress..
I am very furrious about this situation
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Things That Can Help You Prevent Blading
Many factors can cause thinning hair. Some reasons include poor nutrition, stress, environmental factors, or simply genetics. No matter how it was caused, losing hair is a grave concern for both women and men. This article is filled with tips that will help you keep your hair.
Some people with extreme hair thinning are confused as to how they should wash their head. If you possess more than a little hair on the top of your head, keep shampooing it.
To take care of your hair and help it grow more, use a rinse of rosemary and potatoes that have been boiled in water. Heat the water with rosemary and potatoes to a boil, let it cool to room temperature, and rinse your hair with this brew at least nightly.
Many women experiencing the loss of hair are surprised to find hormones are causing it. Hormone imbalances, which can be triggered by perimenopause, stress or simple issues such as the wrong birth control pills, may cause women to lose more hair than normal. Even therapy related to hormone replacement could also trigger a hormonal imbalance. Monitoring your hormones must not be taken lightly if you are experiencing blading.
In order to prevent losing hair, you need to add protein to your diet. Protein is what hair is made of. You can get a high amounts of protein from eggs, poultry, red meats, and fish. If meat doesn't tickle your fancy, there are always beans and lentils, both being very healthy choices! Eating more protein can actually reduce the amount of hair you lose.
If you are contemplating wearing a wig to hide your thinning hair, think again. Wigs cause natural hair to quickly fall out because it can ruin your scalp and hair follicles. Wigs, hats, and helmets shouldn't be worn if you're losing hair as it could make you lose it quicker.
Create a good massage oil to use on your scalp. Try a base of about 4oz. of sesame, almond, or soybean oil, and add 6 drops each of bay and lavender essential oils. You should massage this into your scalp and let it set for 20 minutes. This should stimulate your scalp and help grow hair.
Educate yourself about blading treatments, hair restoration methods and what effects any active ingredients can have. You may discover that some products are worth their heftier price.
These remedies are not very effective in slowing or preventing hair loss, and if you believe otherwise, you are sure to be disappointed. They may work, but you may also waste time and money.
Let your hair become more voluminous before you get it cut again. Cutting your hair too often can end up weakening your hair.
The introduction gave you information about the risk of thinning hair to people both young and old. Any number of situations might instigate it, and a lot of them are just out of your hands. In the suggestions outlined above, ideas were not only given to help you determine the cause of your blading but also ideas how to treat it, as well.


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Dan Forrest, a Kansas University music and dance graduate student, recently won the prestigious Raymond M. Brock Memorial Student Composition Contest sponsored by the American Choral Directors Assn.
The contest was established by the Raymond M. Brock Memorial Student Composition Fund in 1999. The intention of the contest is to encourage young composers and reward student composers under age 28 for their excellence in choral composition. Forrest won with his composition "Selah," a piece from his doctoral recital.
"Selah" will be premiered by the KU Chamber Choir at the School of Fine Arts' sixth annual Collage Concert. The concert will be at 7:30 p.m. Friday at the Lied Center. Tickets are $12 for the general public and $7 for students and seniors. Call 864-2787.


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This article uises bare URLs for citations, which mey be threatened bi airtin rot. |
This article mey require cleanup tae meet Wikipedia's quality staundarts. Please improve this airticle if ye can. |
Chittagong চট্টগ্রাম |
Metropolis | |
Nickname(s): Chottala, Chantga, Chôţţogram, Chitong | |
Location o Chittagong in Bangladesh | |
Coordinates: 22°22′0″N 91°48′0″E / 22.36667°N 91.80000°E | |
Kintra | Bangladesh |
Diveesion | Chittagong Diveesion |
Destrict | Chittagong Destrict |
Establishment | 1340[1] |
Grantit ceety status | 1863[2] |
Govrenment | |
• Ceety Mayor | M Monzur Alom |
Aurie[3] | |
• Metropolis | 168 km2 (65 sq mi) |
Population (2008)[4] | |
• Metropolis | 2,579,107 |
• Density | 15,351/km2 (39,760/sq mi) |
• Metro | 5 680 000 (2,011e) |
Time zone | BST (UTC+6) |
Postal code | 4000 |
GDP (2010) | $25.5 billion |
Cawin code | 31 |
Wabsteid | [1] |
Chittagong (Bengali: চট্টগ্রাম, Chôţţogram) is a ceety in sootheastren Bangladesh an the caipital o an eponymous destrict an diveesion. Built on the banks o the Karnaphuli River, the ceety is hame tae Bangladesh's busiest seaport an haes a population o ower 4.5 million, makkin it the seicont lairgest ceety in the kintra.
A tradin post syne the 9t century, Chittagong haes a multicultural heritage o Islamic, Hindu an Buddhist traditions. Modren Chittagong developed in the early 20t century unner Breetish colonial rule. But the ceety an aw became a focal point for revolutionary activities against the Breetish, notably the airmed uprisin led bi Surya Sen in 1930. It wis an aw an important military base an supply point for Allied forces durin the Burma Campaign in World War II. Efter the pairtition o Indie in 1947, Chittagong became a pairt o East Pakistan. In 1971, as East Pakistanis rebelled against Pakistan's refusal tae accept results o democratic elections, the declaration o Bangladesh's unthirldom wis annooncit in Chittagong. The ceety went ontae witness atrocities an naval blockades durin the liberation war that follaed.[5]
The day, Chittagong is ane o the fastest growin ceeties in the warld.[6] A major commercial an industrial centre, the ceety an aw haes a globally competitive special economic zone.[7] Wi the Port o Chittagong being expandit an developed, regional neighbours o Bangladesh hae eyed Chittagong as a futur regional transit hub. The port ceety is seen as crucial tae the economic development o landlockt soothren Asie includin Northeast Indie, Bhutan, Nepal an pairts o Soothren Cheenae an Burma.[8][9]
Sister ceeties[eedit | eedit soorce]
References[eedit | eedit soorce]
- ↑ Leet o ceeties an touns in Bangladesh, Retrieved December 29, 2009
- ↑ Cite error: Invalid
tag; no text was provided for refs namedccc
- ↑ "Area, Population and Literacy Rate by Paurashava –2001" (PDF). Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics. Archived frae the original (PDF) on 2009-03-17. Retrieved 2009-09-18.
- ↑ "Statistical Pocket Book, 2008" (PDF). Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics. Archived frae the original (pdf) on 2010-02-15. Retrieved 2009-08-15.[deid airtin]
- ↑ http://www.banglapedia.org/httpdocs/HT/C_0208.HTM
- ↑ http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/picturegalleries/6189897/The-worlds-fastest-growing-cities.html
- ↑ http://www.thedailystar.net/newDesign/latest_news.php?nid=26161
- ↑ http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/8687917.stm
- ↑ http://www.thedailystar.net/newDesign/news-details.php?nid=148613
Fremmit airtins[eedit | eedit soorce]
Wikimedia Commons haes media relatit tae Chittagong. |
Coordinates: 22°22′N 91°48′E / 22.367°N 91.800°E
This Asie-relatit article is a stub. You can help Wikipedia by expanding it. |
This ceity-relatit article is a stub. You can help Wikipedia by expanding it. |


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Intermediality (2007)
Medium (sing.), media (pl.)
• medium of communication
• physical or technical medium : substances and/or instruments used in the production of a sign in any medium — e.g, human body; oil on canvas, brush and ink; marble, wood; video camera; piano, flute, percussion instruments; voice; television, sound recorder, computer, typewriter, pen; paper, parchment, skin; textiles; etc.
• public media: newspapers and magazines, radio and television.
Literature indicates only one class of verbal medium, with many genres, together with several other non-literary genres.
Interarts Studies: A Critical Introduction (2001)
S. H. Butcher, Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art (1894): He pointed out that Aristotle was the first to say there was a significant distinction between "beaux arts" and "applied arts".
Walzel, 1917: "mutual illumination of the arts". Concepts and methods used to study one art could be applied, with a few adjustments, in studying another art form.
Creation of the field of comparative literature and comparative arts.
Modified by new transdisciplinary discourses such as cultural studies, psychology, anthropology, linguistics, communication, etc.
Interarts Studies: Not only a contrastive but an integrative view of the arts.
What is art? A solution: to view art as a social construct and, therefore, subject to modifications.
A work of art as a text: "dance, a sonnet, an etching, a cathedral, a film, an opera, are all 'texts' to be 'read'. So as with a letter stamp, a TV program, a religious procession, a marketing logo, a videoclip, etc." Interarts studies considers all texts as art.
Departmentalization in modern academia:
Opera, music -> music department
Poetry -> literature department
An inadequate structure to study the several cultural phenomena, from the past and the present, where intermedia and multimedia texts abound.
Inter textus / Inter artes / Inter media (2006)
1) plurimediatic texts: opera = theatrical performance, music, music lyrics and score, booklet.
2) Intersemiotic transposition: "the shift from one system of signs to another and, normally, also from one medium to another." Source-text and target-text.
- multimedia texts: separable and coherently separated texts composed in different media. There is an interdependence between visual and verbal texts.
- mixed-media texts: signs in different media that would not be coherent or self-sufficient outside that context.
- intermedia texts: two or more sign systems or media in a way that the visual, musical, verbal, kinetic, and performative aspects from their signs are inseparable and indissociable.
Terms and concepts on intermediality
Intermediality is the most convenient term.
Intermediality: investigates all kinds of relations and interactions among media. Recent term to a cultural phenomenon found in all cultures and times.
Acc. to Helbig, the concept of intermediality covers at least 3 senses:
1) relations between media in general (ex. plurimediatic texts);
2) transpositions from one medium to another (intersemiotic transposition);
3) fusion/union of media (multimedia, intermedia and mixed-media texts)
Interarts Studies: Concepts, Terms, Objectives (1997)
Linguist Roman Jakobson ("On the linguistic aspects of translation", 1959):
- intralingual translation (rephrasing, synonyms);
- interlingual translation (one idiom to another);
- intersemiotic translation: "the interpretation of verbal signs by means of signs of non-verbal sign systems." (poem -> painting)
Leo Hoek ("La transposition intersémiotique: pour une classification pragmatique", 1995): investigate types of relations involving text and image
primacy of the text or of the image:
- relation transmédiale (film adaptation);
- discours multimédial (book illustrations)
simultaneity of image and text:
- discours mixte: each keeps its identity (comics, stamps);
- discours syncrétique: there is a fusion of elements (visual poetry, caligram)
un coup des dès, Mallarmé
Calligram, Apollinaire
Forsythia, Mary Ellen Solt
Lettre Ocean, Apollinaire
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Who is responsible for helping women break down barriers? The answer is simple: We all are. As individuals, we can each take action in the workplace -- for example, by sponsoring other talented women, advocating on behalf of a worthy candidate and recommending her for a career opportunity.
Read Whole Story
When you live your Personal Brand, you are being true to yourself; and that comes through when you're interacting with others -- colleagues, other leaders and stakeholders.
The great strides made by women in Latin America and around the world are undeniable but there is still much to be done. Given the progress today, it's exciting to think about the potential advancements and successes of women, and the resulting impact on economic growth.
I was recently struck by a new study released by Catalyst, titled "Good Intentions, Imperfect Execution? Women Get Fewer of the 'Hot Jobs' Needed to A...
There's a business case to be made for the results women bring to the table -- but to really see more women in leadership positions, we need CEOs to understand that greater diversity at the most senior levels of business will help them gain a competitive advantage.
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The worst days after my brother's accident, Jeremiah and I smoke Virginia Slims by the back steps. We drag and wheeze and talk shit because we both know what happened to Bobby and there's no changing that. We smoke a lot of cigarettes. I mean, a lot. Like three packs between us.
We stand in the cold, rattling our jaws, me bundled in fake leather, Jeremiah in stonewashed denim, shivering and feeling like a couple of skeletons. Jeremiah acts like he's hurting too, and, for all I know, he is. He tells me he went to school with Bobby back in the day. What I don't know is how well you've got to know someone for your heart to break when they die. Is there a cutoff?
Jeremiah's got long hair the way an Indian should. Pulling it back like a woman, he says, "You know, Rockhard–" He calls me Rockhard because he thinks I've fucked eighty women, which isn't true. I'm not even sure there are eighty women my age on the reservation. "–I been thinking your sister-in-law needs comforting in this difficult time, if you know what I mean."
I take the second-to-last Slim and offer the other to Jeremiah. He takes it and we light and drag, looking out at the Bermuda Grass dying yellow-brown at the yard's edge. The ground beyond is peppered with unearthed coal, and dump truck tracks curve through the compacted soil. My cowboy boots are dusted black. You can't live on the reservation without coal caking up everything you own.
The old hillside roars with strip mining crawlers. The machines scratch the topsoil and hatchet down, blades glinting between dust tornadoes. A dozen machines, rustbelt brown, two-storied, gears screeching, steel beams butterflied. They caterpillar on tank wheels, straddling the coal mounds.
"Maybe you ought to wait till this blows over." I taste coal and spit. The gunk from my throat is bruised.
"Don't think it's ever blowing over, partner." The cigarette parts Jeremiah's lips, and I see where he's had work done, front teeth patched as drywall. "Your brother's dead, and that ain't just going away."
I don't need Jeremiah to tell me that. Watching the crawlers, I imagine Bobby crushed under the massive tires. It was 8:30 a.m. when they found him. He wore his best shoes, slacks, a tie. He'd shaved his face, put Uncle Fulton's feather in his hair. We followed his bootprints along the tire tracks that morning as the crawlers crowed.
A whistle sounds, signaling a full combine. A truck pulls underneath the beams, and a wave of coal dumps into the bed. The truck moves on. Another takes its place.
"Mama said you might have a problem with it."
Jeremiah ain't Mama's son. She had two boys, and now I'm the only one. I feel like reminding him of that.
"No problem," I say, looking him dead in the eye. "She ain't nothing to me."
What I don't say is, Bobby and I grew up with Maggie. She's hung around our house as long as I can remember.
"All I'm saying is, Maggie's kind of fragile right now."
"You know that's right," Jeremiah says, flicking his cigarette butt into the pile.
"You talked to Mama about it?"
"She said soon as you're kicking dust, we'll hitch the trailer."
Mama's labeled Maggie a "hitch" since she was little, expecting she would marry one of us. She was engaged to Bobby. Not much else to do with your life on the reservation. One reason I'm leaving.
"When you going, cowboy?"
I tamp out my Slim. "A week, maybe less. Saved up a bit at the shop. Got an apartment lined up in Denver. Not much, but a start."
"Well shit, man. I wish you the best of luck."
The crawlers stir a dust swell that rolls toward us.
"Thanks," I say. "We're all gonna need it."
Every other night I walk to the place where Bobby died. It's a ways from the yard, out where the crawlers mined before the accident. We call the spot Chuchip because deer cross between patches of woods the mining crews haven't cleared. I wear the orange hunting jacket I bought second-hand. The sleeve is torn at the wrist, a wad of cotton feeling the breeze. You can't be too careful coming out here, what with night hunters. Sometimes, I see their spotlights winking in the pines, hear their rifles cackling.
It must have been sunrise when Bobby dressed like he was going to church. We aren't a church-going family. The reservation chapel leans with rot, and the preacher, a missionary from the South, upped and went home. He puts in a Sunday call to some of us, spreading the Word to clear his conscience, even offered once to marry Bobby and Maggie by telephone.
Maggie thought we'd better call him for Bobby's services. But we didn't go that far, not even for Bobby. Mama thought it best we didn't do something we didn't believe in just for the sake of doing it.
I think about Bobby's penny loafers. Since my boots are black and my jeans are soot-washed, my brother must have been ashen by the time he reached the crawlers. Those clothes were the only nice ones he owned. The blazer and slacks were so old they shed like a cat. He was going to wear that suit to marry Maggie.
The breeze whirls coal dust from the dunes, and I know Bobby walked through it too, inhaled it like cigar smoke, came out with heavy lungs, coughing, spitting.
I see Maggie from afar and I know it's her. At first, I think I'm off a day. We've got this system where we visit alternating nights. This way we can both have our private time at the place. Nothing worse than being around other people when you're mourning, thinking: Am I doing this right? I can't cry, and everyone else is dripping tears like spigots. Maggie and I decided we didn't want the pressure.
But it's her. It's her, on my night, barefoot in her nightgown, her hair pulled up with a clip, free locks dangling down her back. She hugs herself against the wind, like she did as a teenager when she snuck out her bedroom window to meet me.
"It's my night," I say, realizing afterward how insensitive it sounds.
She shifts her weight, the gown edging up her chapped knee. "Jeremiah's still at the house."
"He's staying later and later."
"There's a midnight movie on channel six."
"Always something."
She doesn't face me. "I'd like to walk to Bobby's place together. Can we do that? Will you walk with me?"
I take her hand and we walk a little ways to the six-by-six square roped off with rebar stakes and caution tape. The tape's warning reads backward, as if Bobby could read it from inside.
Maggie drops my hand. "Mama's changed her mind. She says I ought to marry him before you leave, so you can be here for the ceremony."
It takes me a moment to realize she's still talking about Jeremiah. I look through the dust. Beside a sentry wall of black dirt, a crawler's metallic angles glint starlight. I make out its booms, hooks, chains, the wheels as tall as our house. The miners keep the crawlers away from the square, not so much out of respect as police orders, with the ongoing investigation into what happened. It's something we'd all like to know.
"You'll come, then?"
"Don't you think it's a bit soon? What do you know about Jeremiah, anyway?"
"He's been on the reservation forever."
"Oh, I don't know." She fans dust from her face. "What do you want me to say? Your mama's really taken to him. She practically raised me too, Caleb. We owe her something, right?"
She moves to touch my shoulder, but I step toward the tape. I close my eyes, take a chalky breath, open them, like maybe when I look back Maggie won't be standing here on my night.
"We all need somebody."
"And one person's just as good as the next."
"Will you at least come to the ceremony?"
"Sure. I can do that."
I look inside the square at the perfect imprint of Bobby's body, where the crawler's wheel crushed him into the ground. The imprint is half a foot deep, and pockets of soot have collected along the curves of his arms and thighs.
"Do you remember the Catalpa trees that were near here when we were younger? We had so much fun back then. It wasn't spooky out at night with you, not like when I went by myself."
I remember plucking Catalpa worms from the leaves, looking at them under the moonlight. "I don't know when we ever slept, talking all night."
Maggie's big eyes glimmer. "We did a lot more than talk."
I resented Maggie and Bobby's relationship when they got together. But it passed. And anyway, we were young, and it wasn't real. She and I were foggy and trying to find something in each other, and it wasn't real. But I think about it now and miss being alone with her.
Maggie takes my arm, rests her head on my shoulder, and we stare at Bobby's imprint. "You know I loved him, Caleb," she says after a while.
We're walking for the house when I hear a herd of deer moving timidly toward the square. In the shrouded light, they look like wandering spirits.
"We weren't going to get married," Maggie whispers. "It was something we both decided not to do."
The heard moves tightly, as if they're protecting something. I see patches of dark fur between their legs. Whatever it is, it doesn't follow their gate.
"Being in love, we stopped liking each other," Maggie says. "I was going to move out."
The herd divides around the square, turning their heads in odd motions, nervous for any sign of movement.
"We were going to break it to your mama the day the accident happened."
The herd moves off, leaving behind the animal they were escorting. It lies in Bobby's imprint, legs curled to its belly. It's about the size of a young deer, its head round, disproportionate, the face smooth and white like a porcelain doll's.
"What is it?" Maggie asks.
"I don't know. Just don't tell Mama," I say. "Don't tell Mama anything."
We're naked in my bed when Maggie reaches over me and clicks Bobby's old tape recorder. The recorder is the size of an answering machine, scuffed from when he took it to the shop. He'd record stuff that was on his mind. I'd press my ear to the break room door and hear Bobby mumble into the microphone as he bit into half a sandwich.
Over the tape hiss, Bobby says, "If I were any smarter, I wouldn't be here."
A few years back, a psychologist out of Colorado State conducted a mental health study on our reservation. Recording our thoughts was something she asked us to do. She provided the recorders, wanted us to mail the tapes on our dime. Most of us hocked the equipment, and Ed's pawnshop still has a stack as tall as me. But Bobby, he was all about it. He mailed his tapes every Friday.
"I don't know," Maggie says. "It was in our room and I haven't listened to it. We can do it together." She presses her face to my cheek, and I remember her the way she used to be.
The window is cracked from where Maggie and I snuck in. The screwdriver from ten years ago was still on the sill, rusted to a pick. The glass trembled as I pried the frame, the sound like the rattle of bones. Our breath turns to smoke as I press my lips to Maggie's. She kisses with experience I've never known her to have, and I hold her close and warm.
Bobby says, "If I belonged any other place, I wouldn't be here."
I'm gun-shy, nervous and cold and having trouble keeping an erection, and in Maggie's eyes I see that she remembers. When we were teenagers, Maggie would cross her arms and stare at my limp dick and ask, "Am I not pretty?" She'd ask, "Am I not sexy?" But it was cold under those Catalpa trees, the grass bristling with frost. I trembled in my long-johns.
Maggie licks her palm, takes hold of my cock and squeezes. Her hands aren't as soft as they used to be, and I like it that way.
Bobby says, "There are some things I'll miss."
I tell Maggie that I've missed her, and I'm pretty sure I mean it.
My cock stiffens and we roll over. Then we're at it.
Afterward, I hear Jeremiah snoring on the couch and think about how he wishes he was in my place.
Bobby says, "Whatever I do, whatever happens here, this isn't an apology."
I don't even know what time it is. I forgot to wind the clock before I went out, and the hands are stuck at nine-thirty. I run my hand along Maggie's breast. Her bare feet are blackened, and she's left footprints on the bedsheets. I want to kiss her again, but I don't.
"You and Bobby were so different," she says.
"In some ways," I say.
"Bobby spoke up for you a lot, didn't he?" Maggie asks. "He looked out for you."
It was Bobby who told me to get off the reservation, said he didn't want me dying with regrets. He said I was smart enough to make better somewhere else. Bobby told me to hop on his old Ducati and drive. Didn't have to know where I was going, just drive. Don't look back, he said. Don't you dare look back.
We're startled by a crash. Maggie is the first up, and she pulls on her gown before I get to my pants. She cracks the door.
I hobble to her, pants at my ankles. "Wait," I say, leaning into the door, shutting it. "Wait. I'll go out. You hang back a bit."
She blinks like she just remembered Jeremiah.
"It'll be safer if I check it out first."
When I reach the dining room, Mama's sunk upon herself at the table, wrapped in her housecoat. Her face is wrinkled, like she's aged ten years in three weeks. Some parts of her are failing faster than others. The hacking cough reminds me that her lungs are black, but not from smoking. She picked that habit up just a couple years ago, said she might as well, with the coal dust.
Jeremiah paces in front of the sliding glass door. "It's a bear or something."
Outside, the animal mimics Jeremiah, padding back and forth with the grace of a long-legged cat. Jeremiah grits his teeth, clicks his jaw. The animal snarls. It resembles a bear, but it's too agile, the legs too skinny. And it has spots along its back.
"It ran into the glass," Mama says.
"We gotta do something. The thing's trying to get in," Jeremiah says. "There a gun in this house?"
"We don't own one," I say.
"Shit. You don't hunt or nothin'?"
Mama lights up a Virginia Slim like she doesn't care whether she dies today or tomorrow. "You ain't shooting that poor creature. You hear?"
Jeremiah scuffs his foot on the linoleum, like if there were a rock in his path he'd kick it.
"Poor thing." Mama says. "He's just lost." She puts her hand to the glass.
The animal looks up at Mama, face winter pale, features soft and rounded, eyes reflective. I see flat teeth, the teeth of a herbivore.
Mama flings open the door. Jeremiah and I move to snatch her, but the animal slides under her arm. It gives me a lonesome look, then nuzzles Mama, sniffs her long hair. She strokes it, hinting at a smile.
My bedroom door creaks open. I hear Bobby breathing into the recorder, then Maggie rounds the corner, tripping over herself.
"You're sweating," Jeremiah says, steadying her.
Bobby says, "This isn't an apology."
"Maggie, look at his face." Mama hugs the animal. "It's Bobby," she says. "He's come home."
Jeremiah sometimes talks like he's never been in love. He meets me on the front stoop as I come in from work. His face is red, his breath smokey, his tone biting with disrespect. "Mama's nuts," he says.
My hands are slick with motor oil, my forearms scraped and bloody. I spent the workday pulling a starter from an '82 Starlet. It was really a two man job. "Tell me something I don't already know," I say.
He takes my arm, long fingernails pinching through my canvas shirt. "I mean it, Rockhard. She's talking crazy about keeping that critter."
Dirty and tired and in no mood, I fumble the doorknob, push past him into the living room.
Maggie's stretched out on the couch, reading the same book she's been reading for eight years, squinting with determination. Our tenth grade teacher, Miss Beckman, assigned our class the book because we could get it pretty cheap second-hand or what have you. If Maggie finishes it, she'll be the first.
The house smells like home again. I peel off my shirt, toss it on the couch. "Mama cooking?"
Mama hasn't cooked since the accident. She used to make squash every Friday to celebrate the week behind us. She bought a lot of vegetables from the backs of pick-up trucks because Bobby liked them fresh. My brother ate vegetables like a horse, but he didn't care for meat, didn't say much about why, didn't get on anyone's case about eating it.
"Enough to feed an army." Maggie adjusts her camisole, eyeing the door.
Jeremiah steps in. "What're we doing about this?" He tries to snatch Maggie's book. "Just gonna read that book while Mama loses her mind?"
I step in front of him. "We're going to eat," I say. "That's what we're going to do."
Jeremiah puts his hands up in surrender.
I nudge open the kitchen door. Mama's at the stove, stirring the iron frying pan. Her hair shines from showering, sops against her blouse. The animal is curled at her feet, rotund head on its paws. Its fur is ragged with minor scabs, and I wonder if it has fleas.
"He wouldn't let me bathe him. As stubborn as when he was a child." Mama scratches behind its ears with her big toe. "He's been so sleepy. Hope he hasn't taken sick from the weather." She draws the wooden spoon from the pan. "Tell me if they're ready."
It feels like old times. Mama's got her color back, and her wrinkles have eased.
I chew the squash. "Needs a few more minutes," I say, heavy seasoning aching my jaw. "What's all this for?"
The animal kind of grins, twitching its nose.
"Don't be silly!" She shoos me out with a hand towel. "Get showered for supper. Wear something nice."
It takes me a good hour to scrub the oil off me. I put on a flannel shirt.
The pot steams on the coffee table. Despite having a proper table, we always eat in the living room with the television tuned to the local news. The volume is so low the reporters sound sore over footage of highway accidents, crime scenes, police lights.
"That thing is eating from the goddamn floor." Jeremiah's voice cracks, like his heart is breaking for the first time.
"Don't make a deal of it," Maggie says. "Mama's feeling like herself again."
The seating arrangement used to be Bobby and Maggie sat on the couch with Mama. I sat in the recliner. After supper, I'd fall asleep to the buzz of the television. In my waking dreams, I'd see ghosts of people I thought I knew and I'd ball up like when I was picked on in school. Back in school, Bobby got in a lot of fistfights for me.
The animal and Jeremiah race for the spot next to Mama. The animal wins, hops on the couch as if it's done it a hundred times, and Mama feeds it frybread. Jeremiah settles for the couch arm.
For a sacred while, we all eat. Maggie halfway reads, and Jeremiah's nervous leg shakes his plate. The animal eats three pieces of bread and a fair helping of squash.
"Since the thing now has run of the place," Jeremiah says, picking food from his teeth, "Supposing it needs a name."
Maggie glances at her book cover. "How about Moll?"
Mama folds her hands too neatly on her lap.
I know better than to speak. I mouth at Maggie to hush, but she's clueless.
"Moll Flanders," Maggie says.
"I like the sound of that," Jeremiah says, rocking to his feet. "It does look muddy. Right, Rockhard?"
I shake my head. "What?"
"Mudfingers has a ring to it."
Maggie crosses her arms. "That's not what I said."
"Rockhard and me can build Mudfingers a kennel out back."
I lock eyes with the animal. For a moment, it looks human, eyes brown and wet with fear. I remember in the weeks before Bobby took his life, he didn't look like himself in the eyes, somehow foreign, hollow, a ghost in a shell.
"You'll do no such thing," Mama says, springing from the couch.
"Animals belong outside," Jeremiah says.
"Maybe so, but my son does not."
Jeremiah juts a thumb at the animal. "That critter is not your son."
"I heard you earlier," Mama says. All hands, she swats an empty plate to the floor, slaps the pan over. A heap of squash splatters half on the plate, half on the carpet. "You'd have my Bobby eat off the floor?" She tops it off with frybread. "You first."
"I'm gonna shove that animal's fucking face in it," Jeremiah says.
The animal's fur stands on end, and it bares blunt teeth.
"Don't hurt it," Maggie says.
"Easy, partner," I say, taking Jeremiah's arm.
Mama points in his face. "You lay a hand on my son and I'll get you thrown off the reservation."
"Wouldn't miss the place any more than Rockhard will. Right, Rockhard?"
"You'd better leave," I say, jerking him back, "before you do something you'll regret."
Jeremiah snatches away, kicks through the scraps. Halfway out the door, he turns to Maggie. "I walk out this door and I ain't coming back."
"You won't need to," Maggie says. "The wedding's off."
That night, I go to Maggie's room and find the door ajar. I want to see how she's holding up after the goings-on earlier. Maybe I want to put my eye to the crack and see her head in her hands, the moonlight in her hair. Maybe a little crying would do us all a lot of good.
Maybe feeling anything recognizable would be a start.
She's straddling the window sill, her nightgown hiked up. "I was going out to the catalpa trees," she says. "In case Jeremiah came wanting in."
I don't say anything. I just watch Maggie bent over the window sill, half in, half out, between this and that. The lace curtains bubble. Her dolls stare at one another.
"I was kind of hoping you had the same idea," she says.
"Something like that."
I kick over her nightstand helping her out the window. Maggie helps me out and we walk. Her toes dig into the cold dirt. Seems like she's always barefoot.
We walk along the rim of mining land. People's lawns meet the scraped earth, and we talk about nothing really. Maggie asks me what I think of the animal. I say anything that helps Mama cope is a good thing, and Maggie looks away. We hold hands like schoolchildren.
A set of bootprints winds toward where the trees used to be, and I squat down to get a better look. Large boots, two or three sizes bigger than mine. Beside them is another set of tracks, faint heels and toes. Maggie stands in the footprints, and her feet fit perfectly.
"You and Bobby came out here, didn't you?"
"It was the last time we made love." Dry grass sprinkles from her hair.
I'm somehow jealous that Maggie brought him here. Jealous of my dead brother.
Maggie squeezes my hand. "It still feels like he's here sometimes. He always will be, I think."
The catalpa trees are now ground-level stumps. Dead roots jut from the soil, and Maggie and I hold one another between the tendrils. A crawler track circles us, the machine sleeping not far away, its metal arms slung out like branches. Hooks and chains make birdsong in the breeze. A beacon blinks in florescent time.
"This is the spot," Maggie says.
I see handprints, a partial imprint of Maggie's body.
"Did he know?"
She touches my face. "He wanted to put himself in your place. I told him it was the past. The trees weren't even here anymore."
That sounded right, like Bobby.
Pretty soon I'm kissing her. Then she's kissing me back. We go down on the dirt, Maggie crossing her legs over mine. We just kiss a while, strangely awkward. I'm unbuttoning her nightgown when she takes my head in her hands, pulls me close so our eyes meet.
"I don't want to do this if you're going away too."
I try to kiss her again.
She pushes me back. "I mean it, Caleb."
I roll over and try to see the stars. "I can't stay. Bobby knew that," I say. "Now I know it too."
"And what about your mama? She would've had Bobby to look after her. What now?"
"I'm glad the animal came," I say.
"It can't last, her thinking it's Bobby."
"Maybe it can, and you could come with me."
She fumbles to button her gown. "I'm not as eager as you are to cut up my roots."
"Bobby wanted to leave too. You heard the tape."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Maggie says. "I should have said you and Bobby."
"What would you've done if Bobby left?"
She cries. "Last time I checked Bobby did leave."
The crawler's chains clank, the bell-sound a far away homecoming.
"I look around and all I see is death."
"Now you really sound like him."
"Bobby told me to go, Maggie. You see what being here did to him."
"Then you go. Just go," she says. "I'll stay right here and take care of your mama. That's the sacrifice Bobby was going to make for you. If you think being here hurt him so bad, then you should consider what that did to him." She starts back the way we came, calling out to me. "For you, Caleb."
Light rays prism through dust outside the shop. The sun settles overhead, seems to swell, and I sweat under the musty heat. Sundays are eternal, listing on and on, time stopped at its apex. Nowhere to go, nothing worth doing. When I'm busy, the pain is just an illusion.
Sundays when I was young, I'd barefoot down the shaded rows of pulpwood pines behind our house. Pine sap tacked to my feet, I tiptoed through the briars, cut up my knees. Way out in a quiet clearing with the trees swaying and dropping needles, I screamed so loud my chest ached. The echo went on and on between the tree trunks.
I think about that echo, how far it traveled. I haven't screamed since the crawlers took the pines, haven't felt the breathless ache in a long time. What I feel these days is more like the sensation of falling.
A month of Sundays and I still haven't plugged the water leak on my old Ford. Leaning under the hood, I hear a car rumbling down the drive. I recognize the squeal of those belts, the revolver sound of the engine. I see the back window duct-tapped with garbage bags. Jeremiah's Buick. He spins next to my pickup, creaks open the car door, steps into the sunlight, all torn-up in stonewashed denim.
He has strange eyes, ghosted with resentment, bobbing a tire iron in one hand. He slaps the bent end against his thigh, red in the face, Indian hair split over his shoulders.
I hope he didn't see me see him. The tarpaulin I've draped for shade casts the ground blue, and the sun burns square on my back. I turn the wrench a quarter, act like nobody's looking. But I hear the tire iron slapping, slapping.
"I been to Mama's today," he says, cracking rocks under his boots.
"Jeremiah?" I almost drop my wrench. "That you?"
"Damn right."
"Everything okay?"
"Sure is, partner."
"What're you doing with that tire iron?"
"Busted up the last of the drawing room at the Halwood place, didn't know what the hell to do next."
A man like Jeremiah, pulling down temporary work here and there, has a whole lot of free time on his hands. Most days, he circles the reservation in that Buick like a buzzard, goes out to the ravine and tosses bottles, busts up furniture at the old Halwood place. The Halwood's ashes are scattered at the homestead. Teenagers go out there just to kick them up.
"So I decided wasn't nothing else in this world but to get Maggie back. Wasted twenty bucks on a batch of heart-shaped chocolates. Your house was locked up, and what did I see?" Jeremiah slaps the tire iron, doesn't wait for me to answer. "Mama hanging flowers on a wireframe arch, and Maggie in white, practicing walking in heels."
I lay the wrench down and face him. "In the house?"
"That fucking animal was in the recliner, just watching them." He squeezes my shoulder, presses the warm tire iron against my stomach. "I'll be damned if I didn't hear wedding bells." I go to speak and Jeremiah stops me. "There's only one man left who'd snatch up Maggie, the other being six foot under ground."
"It isn't me."
Jeremiah looks me over. "Sure it is."
I make a show of snatching the wrench off the radiator. "I'm getting the hell off the reservation. You think I want more strings?"
He curls his lip, takes the bait. "True enough."
"I have a hunch," I say. "Since it's neither one of us."
Jeremiah glances at his snakeskin boots, looks up with epiphany. "You do something about it, Rockhard. I ain't goin' within a hundred yards of that shit. Some things is too much for a man to stomach."
I close the hood. Even broken, the Ford's the best I can do.
"You'll need this." Jeremiah tosses me the tire iron.
The Ford overheats a mile from the house, and I walk the rest of the way. I swing the tire iron in the cool afternoon. My bones ache, and I'm heartsore. It's been a long time since I've walked the main road, and the potholes and cracks seem new. The house rises from the mining land, crooked in its age, singles peeled back, siding missing, twenty year paint green with fungus. One of the windows is busted, and we covered it with plastic a year ago.
The front door is locked. I shove it with my full weight, pound on it, and wait. Crawlers behind the house screech to a stop as the shift whistle sounds. Workers yell. Truck doors slam. I wipe the living room window with my forearm, but some of the dust is so old it won't clean off.
The furniture is pushed to the wall. Bobby's recorder is on coffee table, beside a rose bouquet. Mama's in a summer dress I've never seen her wear, and Maggie holds a bouquet of chrysanthemums. I tap the window, knowing they must hear me. The animal is hunched in the recliner, fur looking like it was combed with a wire brush. Mama switches on the tape recorder, and Bobby's voice sounds over the hiss.
Bobby says, "I've waited too long. Too long."
Mama sets up the speakerphone like when the preacher calls.
Bobby says, "Here and now, I'm working this out."
The preacher's voice is deep and hollow over the speaker. "Today, we bring these two together in holy matrimony."
I go at the door handle with the tire iron. I hit the lock like I've never hit anything before, put my back into it.
Bobby says, "I want it for real this time. I do."
I miss a couple times, splinter the wood, finally make contact. The tire iron pings against brass. The handle clacks down the steps, and I kick the door. It's chained from the inside.
The preacher says, "Do you, Bobby, take this woman to be your wife?"
I rattle the door, slamming my shoulder into it.
Bobby says, "I do. I do. I really do."
"And do you, Maggie, take this man to be your husband?"
"Stop!" I yell, breaking in.
The animal sits up on its haunches, wearing a blue necktie, and the tie is mine. Maggie's got this look on her face like she's seeing ghosts. Her cheeks are washed in makeup the color of funeral lilies, her hair done up with plastic flowers. She's wearing the eggshell white dress from high school prom, when she went with Bobby instead of me.
The only fight Bobby and I ever had was after that prom. I punched him in the gut, and I'll never forget it. It was the first time I'd ever punched anyone.
The speakerphone crackles. "Do I hear an objection?"
"Please, Caleb." Mama has tears in her eyes. "It's all they ever wanted."
"Stay out of this," Maggie says, petting the animal. "Just stay out of it."
"This isn't Bobby," I say. "Preacher, you've been tricked."
The phone line goes dead.
Mama lifts the animal and runs outside. "It's all ruined," she cries.
Maggie catches my arm. "You've done enough."
"This crazy business," I say.
"It wouldn't have been legal."
"She could've been the way she used to be."
"That's not going to happen."
"Not now."
"I'm trying to help."
"Then don't make it any worse."
I take Bobby's motorcycle out to his spot. A swell blows through, leaving clear dusk behind, and Mama sits in Bobby's imprint, shivering in her yellow sundress. She holds the animal to her breast and rocks. The crawlers are empty and motionless, and Mama stares at them like she did that day, as though they are monsters.
I kill the engine, roll to a stop.
Deer search for grazing land between the crawlers' tires. Seeing Mama, they encircle the square, sniff and lick the animal, nudge it with the flat of their heads. The animal struggles from Mama's arms and joins the herd as they migrate toward a stretch of forest. Mama lies down where Bobby took his last breath, gazing at the animal retreating in the dust.
I kickstart the motorcycle, and I don't look back.
Frank Ard is a graduate of Clarion West Writers Workshop and current student in the Stonecoast MFA program at the University of Southern Maine. His work has appeared in Suspense Magazine, Kaleidotrope, Birmingham Arts Journal, Fantastique Unfettered, The Future Fire, and the recent Broken Time Blues: Fantastic Tales in the Roaring '20s anthology. He's working on a short story collection about animals and a novel about machines. He blogs unreliably at frankrayard.wordpress.com. He says:
I'm quite obsessed with the idea of home as a character catalyst. There is no other place in our wide world which evokes such nostalgic, yet mixed, emotions to those who've stayed anyplace long enough to grow roots.
I set out out to explore the notion of home as simultaneously vital and fallow, to tangle setting, character, and plot like a windblown braid, such that the three storytelling strands are inextricable.
Quiet inspiring.


text:
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Former First Lady scheduled to visit Hobbs March 29, 2011
Mrs. Laura Bush is the next scheduled speaker for the Jack Maddox Distinguished Lecture Series. The lecture will take place on March 29, 2011 at Tydings Auditorium at 7:00 p.m.
. To be added to a waiting list, please contact Laurie Dean at 575-492-2108.
PLEASE NOTE CAMERAS, CELL PHONE CAMERAS OR VIDEO OF ANY KIND ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED. A book signing will follow the lecture, but please limit ONE BOOK PER PERSON to assure everyone gets a book signed in a timely manner.
Mrs. Bush is actively involved in issues of national and global concern, with a particular emphasis on education, health care and human rights.
As First Lady, Mrs. Bush made an historic trip to Afghanistan in 2005 and witnessed firsthand the progress achieved by the Afghan people after the fall of the Taliban regime. She visited the Women's Teacher Training Institute in Kabul, which is training women to lead classrooms that girls were once forbidden to enter. She met with President Hamid Karzai and expressed America's continued support for Afghanistan's new democracy, which ensures equal rights for women and men. Mrs. Bush's involvement in Afghanistan began in 2001, when she delivered the weekly presidential radio address to call attention to the plight of women and children suffering under the Taliban.
A former teacher and librarian, Mrs. Bush convened in 2001 a Summit on Early Childhood Cognitive Development, providing a forum for prominent scholars and educators to share research on the best ways for parents and caregivers to prepare children for lifelong learning. She is an enthusiastic proponent of teacher recruitment programs such as Teach for America, The New Teacher Project and Troops to Teachers.
As the leader of former President George W. Bush's Helping America's Youth initiative, Mrs. Bush has listened closely to the concerns of young people, parents and community leaders throughout the country. She draws attention to proven programs that help children avoid such risky behaviors as drug and alcohol use, early sexual activity and violence, and highlights the need for a caring adult role model in every child's life.
In September 2001, Mrs. Bush joined the Library of Congress to launch the first National Book Festival. The Festival has grown each year, drawing more than 120,000 book-lovers from across the nation to Washington, D.C. in 2008. In 1995 Mrs. Bush established the Texas Book Festival, and it continues to thrive today. In 2006 Mrs. Bush hosted leaders from around the world for the White House Conference on Advancing Global Literacy, showcasing successful, culturally aware literacy programs from a diversity of countries. Her leadership of this effort led to her current role as Honorary Ambassador for the United Nations Literacy Decade.
Mrs. Bush is an advocate for women's health and has been an active participant in campaigns to raise awareness of breast cancer and heart disease, both in the U.S. and around the world. She partnered with the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute in The Heart Truth campaign and the Red Dress project. And she traveled to Jordan, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Panama to help launch international partnerships for breast cancer awareness and research in collaboration with the U.S. Department of State, Susan G. Komen for the Cure, and M.D. Anderson Cancer Center.
A hiking and camping enthusiast and strong supporter of our national parks, Mrs. Bush has spotlighted the glories and needs of the parks through her many visits as First Lady. As Honorary Chair of the National Park Foundation, she has worked to promote the Junior Ranger program to encourage children to become active stewards of our national parks. And she has helped start Preserve America, a national initiative to protect our cultural and natural heritage.
Laura Bush was born in Midland, Texas, to Harold and Jenna Welch. She holds a Bachelor of Science degree in education from Southern Methodist University and a master's degree in library science from the University of Texas. She taught in public schools in Dallas, Houston and Austin and worked as a public school librarian. In 1977, she met and married George Walker Bush. They are the parents of twin daughters, Barbara and Jenna and son-in-law, Henry Hager.


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Welcome to Nacogdoches, proud hometown of USA Futbol (soccer) team captain Clint Dempsey.
We're also known as the official Garden Capital of Texas.
Nacogdoches also claims to be the First Town in Texas - or The Oldest Town in Texas.
It is in Nacogdoches that you walk in the footprints of history. Texas starts here. For centuries the people who have called these lush forests home cultivated the land and tended gardens that nourished the body and spirit. Our streets are lined with landmarks sacred to Texas history.
Make time to experience the abundant activities in Nacogdoches. Choose from fishing, water skiing, camping and boating fun on Lake Nacogdoches, Lake Naconiche or Sam Rayburn Reservoir. Enjoy any of the 16 city parks, six city tennis courts and a rodeo or concert at the Nacogdoches County Exposition Center.
Nacogdoches is home of the Texas Blueberry Festival. Make plans to attend the Saturday, June 10, 2017 event!
Are you in business or ready to start? Here's information on Joining the Chamber
Click for more Nacogdoches Facts | Sign up for our Email Newsletter | Click to view our Event Photos


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10 Photos to Remind You What to Do in Montreal This Spring This is what we have to look forward to... any day now What are you most looking forward to in Montreal this spring? Having trouble remembering what spring feels like? Yeah, me too. It's nearly April and we still have snow on... March 22, 2017 Best of MTL Alma Talbot
3 Fantastic Microbreweries in Montreal These are some good brews Want to get a taste of what Montreal has to offer in the beer department? With so many great local brews, it can be hard to choose just one place to go. I'll help you narrow it... March 02, 2017 Best of MTL Fawn Parker
Top 20 New Years Eve Parties in Montreal 2017 Send 2016 out with a bang! 1. Grey Goose present NYE @ Le Rouge Bar Photo cred: Montreal New Years Eve 7 rue Prince Arthur W New Years Eve at Rouge is back and better than ever. Join in the revelry for... December 01, 2016 Best of MTL Alma Talbot
Cabin Fever: Great Places to Rent a Cabin Around Montreal Get out of the city and reconnect with nature! Renting a cabin is always a fantastic idea for a getaway! Whether you are looking to spend time with someone special, have a memorable weekend with a group of friends, or to get... August 08, 2016 Best of MTL Britanny Burr
10 Stunning Montreal Airbnbs You'll Want to Visit ASAP Get ready for the vacation (or staycation) of your dreams! While Canada is full of beautiful homes, nothing seems to match the timeless charm of Montreal's gorgeous dwellings. If you're in need of a good vacation - or you want to take a... June 13, 2016 Best of MTL Britanny Burr
6 Events You Can't Miss for an Unforgettable 2016 Grand Prix Weekend Montreal's Christmas (AKA Grand Prix) is here! Ladies and gents, it's finally here! Formula 1 Grand Prix is taking place this weekend in Montreal, and we get to watch out city come alive with visitors from across the globe.... June 08, 2016 Best of MTL Britanny Burr
10 Stunning Montreal Wedding Venues that are NOT Churches Tie the knot in our stunning city! You may have noticed that Montreal is packed with churches. They're everywhere! While we are lucky to live in a city with a rich history and beautiful architecture, church isn't... May 30, 2016 Best of MTL Britanny Burr
9 Best Barcades in Montreal Grab a few friends and get your game on! Are you tired of simply, "grabbing a drink?" If you're in the mood for something a bit more exciting, we've got you covered. Whether it is bowling, ping pong, pool, board games,... March 29, 2016 Best of MTL Alma Talbot
Top 10 Places to Grab a Drink Before a Habs Game Grab a cold one before game time If you've splurged on tickets to a Habs game, you might as well make an evening of it. But drinks at the Bell Centre are not exactly thrifty. Check out this list of nearby... March 14, 2016 Best of MTL Alma Talbot


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Foundations B Teacher's Manual
Phonics and Reading Curriculum
Ages 4-7
This pick-up-and-teach manual provides everything you need to introduce students ages 4-7 to reading and writing!
Foundations B Teacher's Manual
- Carefully designed lessons that help you explain concepts like syllables, schwa, and silent final E's while learning alongside your students
- Uppercase handwriting instruction for both manuscript and cursive included
- Instructions for 39 phonogram games
- Engaging fluency games that get kids up and moving
- Guided assessments
- Materials lists
- Teacher tips that help you to answer student questions
- Spelling Analysis lists with guides for marking words and sample scripting
- Clearly laid out objectives
- Easy to teach! No training required!
More about Foundations B
- Learn to write the uppercase letters in cursive or manuscript
- Match uppercase and lowercase letters
- 21 new multi-letter phonograms
- 8 spelling rules
- Learn about schwa and why it happens so often in English
- 296 new high-frequency words and the tools for reading and spelling thousands of additional words
- 2 reasons for a silent final E
- Read one-syllable words with a long vowel sound
- Identify the medial vowel in a word
- Read and comprehend simple sentences
- Fun and engaging games
Learn More
Recommended for
- Ages 4 to 7
- Any student age 7 or under who has completed Foundations A or who has strong phonemic awareness skills, knows all the sounds of A-Z, and can write the lowercase letters
- As a phonics, reading, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar curriculum for Grades K-2
- As a complete language arts curriculum for Grades K-2
- Beginning readers
- Young struggling readers
- Students with dyslexia
- Early readers ready to learn why English words are spelled the way they are
Prerequisites for Level B
- Foundations A or
- Students age 4-7 who know how to:
- blend separate sounds into words auditorily
- segment words into their individual sounds auditorily
- identify all the sounds of A-Z
- sound out unfamiliar CVC and consonant-blend words
- write the lowercase letters comfortably from muscle memory
Handwriting Style
- The Foundations A and B Teacher's Manuals include instructions for teaching BOTH manuscript and cursive.
- The Foundations A and B Workbooks are sold in TWO versions, manuscript and cursive. Choose the version that matches the handwriting style you are teaching.
- Learn why we recommend beginning with cursive.
What else do I need to teach Foundations B?
- Foundations B Student Workbook
- Foundations B Readers
- Basic Phonogram Cards
- 1 deck of Bookface Phonogram Game Cards
- 1 deck of either Cursive or Manuscript Phonogram Game Cards
- Phonogram Game Tiles
- Rhythm of Handwriting Tactile Cards - either Cursive or Manuscript
- Rhythm of Handwriting Quick Reference - either Cursive or Manuscript
- Student Whiteboard
- Phonogram and Spelling Rule Quick Reference
- Spelling Analysis Card
Ordering Information
- Available in print and PDF. Choose the format you want from the drop-down menu above. (Learn about downloads.)
- Choose either the Manuscript or the Cursive version of the workbook.
- The Teacher's Manual, Student Workbook, and Foundations B Readers are all needed to teach Foundations B.
- All instructions for games are included within the manual.
Product Details
Print- Hardcover
- Full color
- 248 pages
- Weight: 2.3 lb.
- Compatible with any Foundations B Student Workbook
- Product SKU: CFBTM1P
- Digital download
- Compatible with any Foundations B Student Workbook
- See user license below
- Product SKU: CFBTM1A
PDF License
Copyright Notice: Our digital downloads come with a limited reproduction license. Licensed users may use the files on any device or computer and may print them, but may not sell, share, copy, transfer, or distribute files or prints to people not covered by the license.
Single Teacher License: This digital license is for use by only ONE teacher. Multiple teachers in the same school or multiple parents in the same co-op must each have their own purchased license.
Learn more about Logic of English PDFs.
Logic of English Cursive & Manuscript School Fonts © David Occhino Design.
We Also Recommend


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If you are looking for a jogging buddy, Callie might be a good match. She has energy to spare and needs plenty of exercise. Super smart and trainable, she would be an awesome trick dog. Warning Callie is super affectionate and loves to snuggle. She is what we call a velcro dog. She wants to be near you.
email email@example.com for info.


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Each year ArtsNL prepares a video montage segment called Lives Lived, as part of the annual arts awards. Its at that point of the programme that we acknowledge the talents that the arts community has lost over the last year.
This is an opportunity for members of the community to forward names, a photo and a very brief note that commemorates a life lived in the arts.
Please be sure to forward information no later than Friday, March 31, 2017.
Please note that the segment running time may unfortunately limit the number of individuals shown during the actual show.
Information can be e-mailed to the ArtsNL Communications Officer, Joshua Jamieson, at firstname.lastname@example.com.
The 32nd ArtsNL Arts Awards will take place Friday, April 28, 2017 in St. Johns, NL.


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This article synthesises the results from a number of recent French and international research studies dealing with relations between the police and public in France, based on procedural justice theory. Public opinion surveys converge to show that it is young people and the members of ethnic minotiries who have the most negative image of the police and show the least confidence in them. The article examines this negative image from surveys which concern the actual relations of these groups with the police, marked by reciprocal hostility and discrimination by the police, and then proposes an explanation based on the history of French policing, endeavouring to identify what is specific about the French police 'style' in relation to public security.
To cite this article
René Lévy, " La police française à la lumière de la théorie de la justice procédurale ", Déviance et Société
2/2016 (Vol. 40) , p. 139-164
URL : www.cairn.info/revue-deviance-et-societe-2016-2-page-139.htm.
DOI : 10.3917/ds.402.0139.


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Bryant Ann
Poppy's Secret Wish (Ballerina Dreams )
2 €
Miestas: Vilnius
Skelbimo komentaras:
Santrauka: Poppy loves, loves, loves ballet. Her greatest wish is to be a ballerina. But her secret wish is that Miss Coralie will choose her to do the exam with her best friend, Jasmine. Poppy's trying so hard in class, but the butterflies are shooting around inside her. Suddenly, the door bangs open and in crashes the new girl, Rose. Will Poppy get her secret wish now?


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Men I need some advice!!!
Men I need some advice!!!
Ok so check this out . First Ive been with my girl for 4 yrs. Now she started going to these prayer groups with her Mom ( Woman HATES Me ) and she feels guilty about having pre maritial sex. So now after 4 yrs Im supposed to go without sex, and if I cant then It looks all I want is sex. This would normally be no problem Dump the Girl !!!! But she is Super Fine , great morals , and had only been with one other guy before me. Thats hard to find. What To do.
Hey thats what feels like she was brainwashed. Sh^% is freakin me out. I understand wanting to do the right thing But hell over 4 yrs. Thats not a Booty Call.
So you 2 have had sex before she started these groups right and now your supposed to give it up.....sounds like the mom wants to F U in the A.....i'll have to go with ziricote on this one ...round up the sharks ...
Damn, that's a toughy. She seems like a really good girl & good catch so you wouldn't want to let her go, specially not with all the trash that's out there & specially not with the time you 2 have had together. It's not a simple break up & it's water under the bridge deal.
I would honestly just sit down with her & try explaining to her that it's not about the physical aspect of sex, but more the expression of love & care you guys have for each other. In other words, this isn't a "fcuk" & you are not interested in the physical (this is what makes pre-marital sex wrong). Make it clear to her that you do love her & you do care about her, more than anything else in the world, & that you guys aren't just having sex, but making love. Explain to her that you are so overwhelmed with feelings for her that this is your way of expressing your love for her to her, much like a kiss, simply more affectionate. Sex is the ultimate act of affection & there is nothing more. Make sure throughout all this to simply say, "If waiting is what you truly want, then I respect your decision & I will support you."
Some priests, at least younger ones that I know, support this train of thought. Maybe take her to see a priest with you to counter what she is being told by the extremist prayer group. NEVER say anything about her mom, or how her mom is doing this because she doesn't like you, etc.
Maybe, if you see this happening, tell her you do see yourself marrying her in the future if things continue the way they are. That being said, it isn't wrong or immoral for you guys to have sex. The point of not having pre-marital sex is to wait for that one person that you really love & care about. Truth is, you will run into more than one of those throughout your lifetime, therefore, pre-marital sex is outdated.
You could always use her extreme religious views against her. The church is also against contraceptives & other things of that nature, not just sexual. Find something she loves to indulge in, find how the Bible/church don't approve of it, & bring it up to her. Fight fire with fire . Oh yea, make sure what you choose to pick on her for, you don't do . -
Originally Posted by xxtruxx1 - 11-12-2006, 05:21 PM
Originally Posted by dirtysouthmuscl
Dr. Phil would've ended with some stupid analogy that has nothing to do with the situation at hand, something like, "A lone tree in the forest does not catch fire." He's such a tool, that guy lol.
Hope the advice helps you out though. Let us know how it goes, bro. - 11-12-2006, 10:11 PM
Well dirtysouth without getting into the whole moralistic side let me say this.First if you truly care for this woman you will respect her wishes and if you can do that you will see what your relationship really consists of.
This will allow you to see exactly what your motivation is because a real relationship will stand if you care more for her feelings than to try to guilt her into sex(Ive made this very same mistake myself)
I wish you the best and her also because a girl with TRUE morals is very very hard to find.Treasure her for who she is because if you end up together that is the glue that will keep things from falling apart when life gets rough.
Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths . Proverbs 3:5-6 - 11-12-2006, 10:59 PM
Originally Posted by mmowry
I think sex is healthy & part of a loving & caring relationship. Even with it, I believe he can still treasure her for who she is & still have a real & meaningful relationship. I think we, as men, know & can differentiate when a relationship is based solely on sex & when it is a truly meaningful one. By the looks of things, dirty's is just that. Sex alone doesn't push 4 years, IMO. It just gets old after a while. - 11-13-2006, 12:38 AM
Geez bro, that's a crappy situation but one alarming thing I see is that your girl can be easily brainwashed and that could lead to big trouble in the future. You've had 4 years to prove that you love her and if that's not enough then what is ?
If you were with her for 4 years then she MUST KNOW you're not with her just for the sex, if all we needed was sex we'd all be banging cheap hookers every day in order to avoid meaningful relationships with women. - 11-13-2006, 12:58 AM
You walk up to her and you be like,"Girl, you wouldn't buy a shoe before trying it on first. So why no sex before marriage, man!" And then remind her that she's already broken the commandment (or whatever those rules are).
It isn't necessarily being "brainwashed", maybe this is just what she believes is the right thing to do...
Unless you have had a life changing spiritual experience it is very ignorant to be calling the change in her brainwashing!
Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths . Proverbs 3:5-6 - 11-13-2006, 09:06 AM
I believe you know my opinion on this. Alot of people here are saying its hard to find a good woman, with good morals. Bull****. They like ANY other type of woman is a dime a dozen. Now, don't taking that as Im saying dump her, cause that is not the intention. More or less Im just trying to say... there's the same thing just around the corner.
AdamsThe Historic PES Legend
Originally Posted by DAdams91982 - 11-13-2006, 11:55 AM
Once the religion kicks in it's hard to go back to where it started.
So ask yourself ...why haven't we married? Would she have started this line in her life if you had been married?
If she would still have sex would that change your perspective on her religious change?
Is she perhaps hoping that by moving into a traditional religious lifestyle that you will also and or act on the marriage issue?
Sex is one one card that can mess up any relationship. I personally can have one without the other. Have tried the great friends/companionship without sex thing a couple of times and it sucks!!
My opinion would be the heart to heart talk about needs and the definition of a relationship (emotional and physical). When that crashes...and it will...you will at least have tried to salvage it.
Then you need to move on.
She will not be happy if she is running up against the church guilt trip and the relationship will eventually dissolve anyway...probably more painfully and nasty.
So hard as it may seem you need to just accept her lifestyle change and move on with your life.
Sorry.... - 11-13-2006, 02:50 PM
The one important question is 'Do you want to spend the rest of your life with her?' If so do whatever it takes if not there's alot of fish in the sea, go fishin.
Originally Posted by xxtruxx1
AdamsThe Historic PES Legend
Dump her if you can't remedy the situation. It sounds like her mother is a big influence on her decisions. Try explaining to her that shes not moma's little girl anymore and she is all grown up and can make her own decisions about what she does with her body. Also that she shouldn't feel that because her mother wants her to join this prayer group that she should.
If you can't fix this definately end it because once you're married you'll be screwed even more. Her mother will always be around. If possible move to a location that her mother will not be able to influence her like that.
Another simple solution I just thought of, propose. If this really is the girl you want to spend the rest of your life with go for it. You've already spent four years with her. - 11-14-2006, 10:52 AM
Originally Posted by blahblah192
I did that with one of my wives (on #4 and hopefully the final) she still called her mom or vice versus every day (yes literally) and wrote each other a couple of times a week and we were only 100 miles away. This mom was like the mother on the TV show Raymond. Lived close by and had a key. would just walk in and start doing thing in the house, throw stuff away, re-arrange the furniture etc.
You most definitely do not want that kind of power in your relationship. - 11-15-2006, 05:30 PM
The first thing I thought of after reading your post is that her mother and the other women in that prayer group seriously ****ed her way of thinking up and questioned her relationship with you.
They probably threw in stuff like "he's with your for 4 years and your not talking abour marriage,kids, etc... Then they probably quoted something about Jesus or God after that (pretaining to sex, relationships, etc... I know this goes on because my mom was hardcore into this stuff when I was younger. It is not as bad these days but she still goes to those prayer meetings all the time and has given my dad hell through the years because she listens to those stupid old hens cackling at the meetings.
The second thing I thought is she is trying to give you a non-verbal ultimatum. Marry me or no more sex. Women do things like this all the time to see what kinda response they'll get out of you. The best thing is to play it cool. DO NOT insult the religion, church, or prayer group becuase the $hit will hit the fan if you do.
Take the advice the other guys gave you and tell her how it more than just a booty call when ya'll have sex and why its not a bad thing to have premarital sex. - 11-15-2006, 10:16 PM
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REVEALED: 10 Things Men Forget to do During SE'X...MEN must read this! (ADULT CONTENT)
…. a sweet kiss with just your lips is better than a Labrador retriever-style kiss with your tongue.
No one on earth is quite as pleased as a man who has just pleased a woman between the sheets. We love the care and attention you've paid to us for our own benefit, but we also love watching you bask in self-satisfaction. But as satisfied as you might be with yourself, sometimes we're not quite as satisfied as you'd hoped: something relatively minor, but highly distracting, was a bit "off."
Don't be offended, darlíngs, but a few níps and tucks in your bédroom style might speed things along (in a good way)—leaving us more time for another go at it!
1. The clítoris is right there. Yes, right there. Not over here, not down there, not off to the side. It doesn't move. Try to stay focused and play with the clít!
2. Take your socks off. Not a single thing is séxy about a man who is nakéd except for his socks.
3. Lubrícant, lubrícant, lubrícant. We may feel "so wét" to you from our own fluíds, but we actually need to be pretty drenched with water-based lube for business time.
4. Talk dírty to me. Some women become very arouséd by their imaginations, so a little dírty talk about what you're going to do to us stimulatés our biggest séx órgan...


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Pathologically Eclectic Rubbish Lister | |
PerlMonks |
Re^2: Cannot create distro with Module::Buildby GUIfriend (Sexton) |
on Mar 28, 2013 at 16:46 UTC ( #1025997=note: print w/replies, xml ) | Need Help?? |
Thank you for your kind help. After correcting this, the path of the .packlist file has changed from ...\auto\Mydistro\lib\Mymoddir\Mymod\.packlist to ...\auto\Mymoddir\Mymod\.packlist. Unfortunately this is the only change in the result.
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