text:
Out of the blue, I got a call from a Discovery Toys consultant looking for an Usbourne Book Consultant who had found my name and email address online. I have been NOT selling Usbourne Books since this spring. I love the books, and am mostly involved so that I can get discounted books for my son.
But, she had wanted to know if I wanted to participate in a semi-annual event where different consultants get together twice a year, rent a building and hold an open house type of event. It only cost $15 per table, and would be a great opportunity. So I did it - didn't get any interest hardly at all, and with a $15 donation for the free drawing, another free drawing for $10 in books and the $15 rental - I thought, gee, maybe I'm just not cut out for this?
I have another show coming up the weekend after next - it costs $30 - and I'm only going to provide a $5 prize for a drawing, and part of me is thinking - hmmm, maybe I should cut my losses and run???
But, lo and behold - I get an email the other day. There's a woman who wanted to host a Discover Toys and Usbourne books combined show - and the lady from the first show gave her my name... oh, my! My first show where I didn't have to twist a friends arm to hold it! Who knows if it will actually turn out ok, but it's worth a shot, right???
I've got to get my act together though - I've got things to prepare, and my house is a disaster, and I had hopes to go out of town this weekend. But, I've got some excitement to look forward to at least!


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Washington, DC - The U.S. Chamber of Commerce asked the Office of Management and Budget (OMB) to return to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC or Commission) its proposal to collect employee compensation and hours-worked data from employers.
In comments filed yesterday, the Chamber argued that the EEOC's proposal will impose costly administrative burdens on employers and yield data that will not provide any insight as to whether an employer's pay practices are discriminatory.
"EEOC is proposing to collect extensive data heretofore never collected by the federal government – without any developed framework to review the data or use it for any legally authorized or recognized purpose – with the irrational hope that it will support the Commission's mission," said Randy Johnson, senior vice president of Labor, Immigration and Employee Benefits for the U.S. Chamber. "Moreover, despite claims by EEOC that it will be held confidentially, there is real danger that the data will be mined by hackers and others to portray employer compensation practices in a false light. EEOC's proposal will create a great burden on responders, yield useless data, and fail to advance the enforcement of federal employment policies."
The Chamber and its members have long been supportive of nondiscrimination laws including the Equal Pay Act (EPA), Title VII, and the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), and are concerned with EEOC's current attempt to extract sensitive and confidential data from employers in a process that violates the Paperwork Reduction Act.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
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text:
Andrew's parents have a really nice TV. So we're sitting at his parents house (sans his parents) watching the Pats. And it makes me hate my own television. Too bad we cannot afford to upgrade our TV - that's so far down the list, we might never get to it.
Andrew was still a little sick this weekend, so it was another quiet couple of days for us. We're in Keene (obviously) and it was kind of nice just taking it easy. Next weekend we're installing a new toilet, vanity, sink, medicine cabinet and light fixture, so it will not be relaxing. (okay, so we're going to help Andrew's brother as he installs everything... but still, we won't be sitting on the couch)
In other news, today marks 8 years of us being together. Though our relationship 8 years ago was pretty different than it is today! 8 years is 30% of my life. Kind of strange to think about it like that.


text:
Following an email from the HT English yesterday (@madiganda) in which she noted the negative attitude that Year 10 students displayed toward the use of the DERNSW laptops in a letter to the editor as part of their Trial School Certificate I decided to come out swinging…..
To me it is not unexpected that the students are commenting that laptops have caused distractions and are actually having a negative impact on their learning because generally as a school we are not using them properly yet. (Disclaimer – there are some teachers who are!). From my conversations with Year 10 students the sum of the laptop usage at the moment is to: copy notes down from the board into a "One Note"; access the internet for research; and play Mathletics.
While these represent a start none of them seem to promote higher order thinking or seem to be a change in pedagogy as a result of the DER program. In fact while the NSWDET has done a fantastic job with the introduction of the DER my only criticism would be that it gave teachers an out with regards the opportunity for a "revolution". A common phrase bandied around is "the laptops don't have to be used every lesson", "we can do this slowly"…etc. While both those statements are true I would never have said them! It is the same as me saying to my students: alright you really need to do these problems by the end of the week they an essential part of the course – but if you are not confident then just do one (or none!) and that will be enough. Too many teachers in my opinion have latched on to the option that laptop use is optional.
The obvious answer is training of teachers so that when they are not confident they seek out support – with an emphasis on the teachers seeking the support. At present it appears as if there is an expectation that training be provided – but what in? What program? How? When? Who pays? (I know there is a DER PL fund!). In a reply email yesterday @madiganda noted "Maybe the kids don't like it as much because it does require them to use their initiative a bit, to be self-directed and many are not capable of this yet – again, we need to train them from Year 7 for this self-directed learning.". I think she is spot on – and not just for the students.
Teachers themselves need to become independent and self-directed in their learning of the technology – to seek out information when it is required – as it is required. Venture into the unknown – take the risk – challenge all previously held perceptions of how teaching is undertaken. Model being a learner to our students. Make mistakes – be a non-expert.
I think I understand the "softly, softly" approach that has been taken with regards the politics of education. But I do not agree with it. In fact it reminds me of a quote from Douglas Adams in the 'Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy' : "utterly insignificant little blue green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.". Do we fit that mould?
One year on I think we should be focusing on the "revolution" part of the DER. And revolutions are often bloody. I for one have taken my gloves of – I will no longer accept the idea that technology should not be an integral part of all education – particularly when access issues are removed. Students and teachers must now embrace the opportunity. To steal President Obama's famous phrase: "Yes we can".
A future post will contain a brainstormed list of suggested activities that promote higher order thinking using technology.


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My two cents on Hurt:
Cultural shifts in this country have turned the tables if you will of what our grandparents "knew" as decent. We live in a world today vastly different than our grandparent's world. Beyond the Internet, and cell phones we live a in world where our children are taught to question the validity of everything they are taught. We are told to find our own way in this world. Only don't condemn others if your way varies in anyway from some one else's path. We live in a society that has extended adolescence, whether intentionally or unintentionally through various institutional shifts (farming communities to a public school phenomenon). Not only have we extended adolescence, we've confused the demarcation of adult hood and have systematically abandoned our young so that as adults we may find our own path.
The crises in the family today is not so much that our kids are experimenting with drugs, alcohol and sexual promiscuity, but that as parents we've by and large cut the communication lines with our kids. Somewhere, someone convinced parents that what we needed was to befriend our children for their emotional, physically and spiritual well-being. What has this produced for us? Teenagers who are confused about their place in the world. Kids who are confused about what it means to be kids. Teens who mimic what they see in the hypocritical live of the adults they encounter. The adults that do spend time with our teens are the ones they watch on television or see on movies. Our kids become what we are. If we quit engaging our kids, they will quit engaging us. Sure some of this happens, I don't many teens that don't pull back from mom and dad a little now and then, but when individuation occurs, and it will we mustn't allow change keep us from being actively involved in the lives of our kids.
Our teens are the most stressed out, hurried, and worried generations of kids in any time since the creation of man. What are we doing to help them disengage from the cultural demands that weigh them down and take a lighter load?
I know in our busy worlds we make excuses for neglecting family, church things, and other important social groupings. We have all this stuff, and more really is more and the more we accumulate the less time it seems we have for the ones most important to us. If you are a parent of a teen, here is simply scary truth: Teens today aren't like your generation. What you remember about high school and peer groups, etc., is vastly different today. Our kids today learn to wear masks to fit whatever roles they are playing at the time. If you spend anytime listening to the heart cries of American teens today, you will hear loneliness and hurt. Adolescents need us adults, and we need them.
Brain you wrote and asked:
"Have you recognized the need to re-think how we do youth ministry so that we can more effectively minister to today's adolescence? Please share.'
I think that we certainly need to rethink the way we minister to youth. Kendra Casey Dean makes a statement that in order to reach this generation of teenagers with the gospel, that youth workers are going to need to be the best trained, best equipped ever. I think she is right. We do need to rethink YM, but let's do so theologically and may we let that theology spill over into our praxis. I know for the first two years of my experience in YM, I was a poiesis kind of guy. Poiesis is shooting from the hip. We need to have a plan, and then work the plan. But the question we all need to ask is how are we doing to God's standards?
Thanks for your thoughts!
jason - that was a really great post. very well said.
for what its worth, you guys really are helping me out these days. i recognize some of your names from the old YS forum. i used to hang out there a bit, but never said much. wonder if that place will ever get up and running again?
In an academic setting I would recommend HURT. In discussing this book with several other youthworkers in a Roundtable - the basic premise or rather conclusion came to be is how can we get parents, youthworkers etc. to read this and understand where our teens are coming from?
Great question Gman. I do know that Chap is currently working on a much more user friendly parent edition. It should be out sometime next year.


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First train07:04
Last train20:56
Avg changes0
Fastest journey17m
Travelling from Saint-Pierre-des-Corps to Chenonceaux by train
The fastest trains from Saint-Pierre-des-Corps to Chenonceaux take around 17 minutes, covering a distance of approximately 27 kilometres. There are frequent services on the rail route between Saint-Pierre-des-Corps and Chenonceaux.
Direct trains run between Saint-Pierre-des-Corps and Chenonceaux.
We usually find around 27 direct trains on the route from Saint-Pierre-des-Corps to Chenonceaux every weekday.
There are typically fewer departures at weekends, when we found around 22 departures. The duration is normally about 17 minutes, whatever time you make the journey.
On weekdays the earliest direct train to Chenonceaux is usually scheduled to depart Saint-Pierre-des-Corps around 07:04 and the last train is around 20:56. This is the same at the weekend.
Route map is indicative only and may differ from the optimal route. Actual routes will be displayed when searching.
When to book Saint-Pierre-des-Corps to Chenonceaux train tickets?
Trains in France usually open for booking around 3 months in advance. If booking is not yet open for your dates then you can set a booking alert to receive an email on the day that the cheapest tickets are released for your journey from Saint-Pierre-des-Corps to Chenonceaux by train.
Which trains operate between Saint-Pierre-des-Corps and Chenonceaux?
Train Express Regional is the rail operator that operates on the route from Saint-Pierre-des-Corps to Chenonceaux.
You can check which train you'll be travelling on by looking for the train name in search results.
Find journey information for Chenonceaux to Saint-Pierre-des-Corps
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text:
My Little Girl Don't Cry For Me
My little Girl, Don't cry for me
I'll be right by your side.
I'd never miss out on this day
that you become a bride.
A wedding is a most auspicious occasion. That two people have found each other and are willing to commit to spend their lives together is nothing short of a miracle. This event is a time of unparalleled joy. There are many different styles of weddings based on the traditions of the families involved. Of all occasions, weddings and funerals are probably the occasions where traditions are most observed. These are time when we mark our relationship to life. At a wedding we celebrate the beginning of the forming of a new family.
My little Girl, Don't cry for me
I'll be right by your side.
I'd never miss out on this day
that you become a bride.
Love your poems. Having a hard time finding something from stepdad to stepdaughter from heaven for her wedding day.
I think about the time,
Not so long ago,
That when I needed a helping hand,
You where the first to know
I enjoyed this poem very much because fathers are often neglected at weddings. And fathers are very important!
Today will be perfect
In every single way,
A beautiful fairytale
For your wedding day.
I wanted to tell you on this day;
How much you mean to me;
And welcome you with open arms
into our family;
The time has come to stand side by side
The Groom in his glory, his beautiful Bride.
They've waited so long for this moment in time
To take their vows and say, "Will you be mine?"
Today's my daughter's wedding day.
And a wonderful thing it is;
To see her so excited,
So happy to be his....
I have been looking for a poem to put in the front of the wedding scrapbook I am making for my daughter. This poem is perfect except for the last two lines since she is unable to have...
Be with me whenever you can.
Love me for what I am.
Convince me when I am in doubt.
There she sits before her mirror,
Primping in excitement, her face flushed.
Today is her day; she will never know
How much I hurt, how scared I am
I am not the bride's dad but brother....and I found this poem extremely emotional...I literally had tears in my eyes while reading this... love it
My darling daughter, Ashley,
I just want you to know
wherever your life takes you,
my heart shall also go. ...
My beautiful daughter is getting married today, and I must share her now with the man she has chosen. This poem just says it all for me it is lovely, and so heartfelt I am going to share it...
On this day of marriage
You are watching from above
Along with all of us you are
Witnessing our love


text:
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Rio 2016: Can Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce Beat Usain Bolt to Olympic History?
CNN/Stylemagazine.com Newswire | 7/18/2016, 11:28 a.m.
By Ollie Williams
for CNN
(CNN) -- If she beats Usain Bolt to sprinting history, she will do it with her own porridge.
Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce is in a Jamaican supermarket when CNN reaches her. She's stocking up for her pre-Games camp in Italy. A full third of her baggage on the flight will be food from home.
"I have to make sure I'm not having too much pizza," the 29-year-old winner of two straight Olympic women's 100 meters titles says. "I carry stuff from here with me -- my granola bars, my porridge, my milk, my sausages, my crackers, my chips, everything.
"That way, I know what I'm eating."
Maybe it's the suspicious mind of a woman caught out once before, in 2010, when a banned (but not performance-enhancing) painkiller turned up in her urine sample and earned her a six-month suspension. But then, maybe she just really likes the food she makes in Jamaica.
The porridge sachets are coming to Rio, too -- where they could form the ultimate breakfast of champions, if Fraser-Pryce wins a third consecutive 100m gold.
She would be the first Olympian to do so, with her final the night before compatriot Usain Bolt hopes to complete the same feat. Make the final, cross that line in first place, and she will beat her illustrious Jamaica teammate to at least one spot in the history books.
"At least I'd have something over him!" she giggles.
At precisely five-foot tall, Fraser-Pryce is so firmly, literally, installed within the shadow of six-foot five-inch Bolt that journalists cannot get away from the comparison.
The winner of the past two men's 100m Olympic gold medals is a superstar, one of the world's most recognizable athletes. He makes a handful of appearances each year and retains the aura of the untouchable, even when the data suggests he is by no means certain to win again in Rio.
Fraser-Pryce, who also triumphed in Beijing 2008 and London 2012, matches Bolt medal for medal over 100m at the Olympics and world championships. Somehow, that isn't common knowledge.
"I'm over it," she sighs. "Usain is a tremendous athlete. He's the greatest athlete the world has seen -- he has that, nobody can take that away from him.
"But female athletes have also done great things."
Fraser-Pryce wants more recognition for her gender's sporting achievements, not just hers.
In the meantime, beating Bolt to a sprint treble will do. "We've never spoken about it, but of course I'd like to to have that," she chuckles. "So I can tell him I have something he wants."
Scoring that little victory over Jamaica's sprinting giant will require conquering a troublesome toe injury.
Fraser-Pryce is not used to dealing with this. In a decade of elite running, she has barely been injured: A small knee problem in 2014 and now this, more serious issue with a toe on her left foot.
"On a pain scale of one to 10, about an eight," she frankly admits. For anyone prepared to dismiss a toe injury as minor, eight out of 10 is a pretty high score coming from an Olympian.


text:
- surfwalrus's Activity
@_plaguelight_: when did i say i wanted less action? I said i would have liked more banter mid saber battle. not less action jackass. also Avatar wasnt a good movie. It was pocahontas retold with alie...
I loved the new star wars :D it was so good! Would have liked more dialogue during the light saber battles but overall the movie was awesome. Although they keep making death stars...is that the only ...
my ps2 still works fine so this doesnt really do anything for me. I was hoping theyd continue porting ps1 games so I could put them on my vita since the discs barely read anymore. Although whoever wa...
"attractive this holiday season!" aka we will include SOOOOOOO much free shit with it, please please please buy it! They did this last year. they included the system, a game and a 50$ gift card.
@johnymoskwich : I loved dark souls 2. Granted it was WAYYYYY WAYYYY easier than DS1. Like, no boss took me more than a few tries to kill unlike how I still havent beaten DS1 lol Took me so damn long...
Id love a controller that didnt have joysticks spaced a half inch wider apart than the ps3s. Cant aim for shit now in shooters but on ps3 im fine. Luckily the cronusmax helped alleviate it a bit but ...
Awesome game so far! Although its not really a beta considering its EA. BF4s "beta" was actually their final build lol Luckily this beta/final build is actually really good, smooth and playable. Got ...
if it goes past useless stuff like emotes or cosmetic shaders then a big old FUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!! will escape the mouths of every gamer.
soooo instead of them allowing games to run off the disc like they SHOULD, they install it all on your harddrive. so dumb
In other words: We want more money so we will make you pay for characters that should have been in the game initially bwahahahahahahhahahaaaa!!!
played it on ps4 and its a copy paste job
Why wont they stay dead!? RB and GH are wastes of money when Rocksmith straight up owns the music game genre. Playing a fake guitar with 5 buttons super fast will never be impressive compared to some...
The intro song to Crono Cross. its amazing
Can we have this version instead? Or at least an unlockable mode lol
Would You Kindly?
....I'd like to solve the puzzle Pat....is it...Money? Ding ding ding!
Soooooo, another cash grab from Capcom? Seriously they did this already on PS2 with both the X collection and the Normal Collection. If they wanted to appease megaman fans theyd put ALL of the games ...
User Rating 10
If you enjoyed any of the Baldur's Gate, Icewind Dale, Torment games, then GO GET THIS GAME NOW! The game is just simply perfect. The difficulty level is still there, the rewarding feeling after each...
User Rating 8
Ok, I see too many 1/10s and even 0/10s...really? Does the game not even turn on? Because that would be the only reason a game gets a 0 or a 1. So get over it all you drama queens who expected this t...


text:
Relax, originally uploaded by ~OM~ ॐ छाया चित्रालय.
What comes to my mind when I hear this word is
1. My jeans
2. My Kurta
3. Sitting in the park, under a tree, on a bench, lying down
4. Doing nothing
5. Staring at the sky
6 Counting the stars
7. Follow the leaves the wind blows
8. Have a cup of tea on a road side stall
9. Standing at the door of a train compartment when the train is moving and staring into space
10. Being myself...
Hope you have a "just what you like" relaxing weekend !!! Amen !


text:
I'm not talking about life's issues though that will sometimes happen, but that's another post for some other time. I'm referring when you hit a point in a story that sometimes is so emotionally draining for both you and the characters you just hit a roadblock. It could be because of what you just had happen, or sometimes with the added joy of getting wording right to make the entire point you are trying to make by this sequence of events be missed or seem less significant. Needless to say this just happened to me- my main character just went through something that to avoid spoilers until I decide to share this chapter if at all- left her pretty messed up and totally shook her confidence. Yeah I know cliche much? This event if I do say so – is pretty well written its the aftermath that is the cause my current block. The reactions of my other characters seem so disjointed and chaotic at times which would be somewhat true but trying to get the mess right is causing me many sessions of hair pulling and agonizing so much so I just had to stop for a few days and take a gaming therapy session. Then of course the fun part was trying to re buckle down and not get distracted to continue writing, needless to say this didn't work at first- I still had no idea how to get these reactions back to where they should be or where I feel they should be- and now even the main character is in on the act. Sigh.
Finally I gave myself no choice and simply eliminated the problem for now- I moved ahead in chapters instead working on the one to follow. I still have as story to finish after all and I can't wait for the day that magically this sequence to be come clearer and the reactions match up more. Besides maybe in time this will become clearer and I will find myself able to finish the chapter since I already have a clear outline/ idea of what finishes the chapter and leave it for someone such as my editor to deal with- after all that's partly what they're there for right? An outside source can do wonders for editing in my experience a fresh opinion that hasn't been bogged down by these woes of creation.
I mention this because I imagine its not a unique thing to just me and I've had it happen before since this is like draft 500 – I'm exaggerating of course but you get the idea. The only difference between previous drafts and now is that the roadblock happened much later in the story be caused me to stop writing for the period I did that I mentioned in the first post though the length was completely unintentional. Since then I learned I can't let one part of the story bog me down and cause me to stop- especially with this large of a project, but keep going you never know what might clear up or be revealed later on.
Now if you excuse me I'm off to write an add on to an earlier chapter- a random introduction that was kinda thrown in before now has a better transition that I thought of as I was typing this ironically. Gotta love unintentional living your advice.


text:
Being now cozily nested in a used/rare bookstore (and not having to worry at all about author tours) I can smugly sit back and recall my past--I used to manage a bookstore that was in a rural, but educated area, carried new books, and did author dealies sometimes.What I found (Eileen, are you listening?) worked for signings and readings and such was enlisting the help of the author in compiling a likely list of people who might want to come. Now, of course this works best if you are (or have) a local author who has local friends, but if the store does mailers (mine did) and you have an intelligent, sensitive manager (yes, I was) you can come up with such a list, based on knowledge of book preferences and so on. You send these nice people handwriten (2 t's? one? god, I hate spelling) invitations by mail. Need not be elaborate, but they must be at the very least hand addressed. And you put little articles in local papers, and posters, if you can, spots on the radio, and so on. But the real key is that personal touch. And then figure--if you are fortunate, unless the author is, say, a sexy movie star--that you will get about 10% of those you mailed to come to your event. Phone calls are also, sometimes, okay, but can backfire (you must know your clients).
Of course, if you are a blatant outsider simply come to enlighten the local yokels you will have to figure out how to seduce your bookseller (actually, or metaphorically). 'Tis an art. I did resent the persons who hopped in on a busy day and had a stack of their self published bad book that they wanted to sell me and asked if maybe they could have a signing. (now, if the books had been great, I might have been less sour--but even so, I would have appreciated a preliminary letter, and perhaps an arranged appointment to talk over tea.
Oh--in arranging an author appearance/reading/signing--give yourself at the very least a month's prep time.*
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. If you are going to promote yourself it takes time, effort and that personal touch. This means more than the gimmicks and the bookmarks and adds to the overall impression of your book. Yes, your book should be judged solely on its writing and content, but we're human and we form our opinions from a multitude of sources, so you have to be the driving force to make your books stick in the readers' minds.
Someone who does this (with results) is Joe Konrath, the author of the Jacqueline "Jack" Daniels mysteries. Here is a man who not only knows he has to represent himself, but goes out there and does it. His advice on having a sales pitch is dead on:
The secret to sales is to not make it selling.Huh?Concentrate on value, and what you have to offer. Focus on the experience you're giving, not the cost.Sales isn't about looking for buyers; it's about finding the people who are looking for your product even though they don't know it yet.Be funny. Be confident. Be genuine. Be memorable. Be enthusiastic.In person, I've found the best trick to sales is listening to the customer. Not only their needs and wants, but what they had for breakfast, how their brother in Duluth is doing, and what their favorite TV show is.
Whenever I sell a book, I always use the line, "You'll like this, I promise." This assurance takes the uncertainty out of a purchase, and makes the customer feel like I'm doing them a favor, rather than they're doing me a favor.
Let me make this clear. This isn't about being fake. This isn't about being schmoozy in a greasy used car salesman kind of way. This is about letting that enthusiasm that carried you through the writing process, that drive that got you to write those queries, mail those agents and publishers, and finish those revisions flow over to the person you are talking to your book about. You are your own best salesperson because you are the only person who intrinsically knows all the ins and outs of your books.
Because, you know, you wrote the thing.
And promising a person they will like it? That's not a lie, if they stayed through your presentation they probably will. If you've made a connection between the hi, hellos, how-are-yous and what-brings-you-in-todays then you are already in, but people need reassurances. That's why we have blurbs on book covers, that's why we have reviews and newspaper articles. People need to know that they are making the right choice, and telling them that you promise they'll like it works.
I tell customers all the time that if they don't like a book they can return it.
"Really?" they say.
"Sure, just don't drop it in the bathtub."
Suddenly that book they were on the edge about or that author that they weren't quite sure they would like becomes an attractive and desirable purchase.
"I have the right to change my mind," they think. "But it must be good because why else would this person offer."
I'm not asking for you to change your basic personality and become a loud, bombastic self promoter complete with bullhorn. Bookselling on any level is about listening and responding.
It's communication, a relationship, something that you're trying to build with your readers anyway through your book.
*Ron, there is a quotes button between the bullets button and the spell check button on my edit/create posts box. I simply highlight what I want quoted, hit the button and then fix any formatting errors that occur.


text:
Friday, July 15, 2011
What can we say about a really big hole in the ground?
When I was visiting the Salt Lake City metro area last month I didn't have time to see the amazingly large Bingham Canyon Copper Mine. People have been digging there for over a century, and now it is 2.5 miles wide by 0.7 mile deep. It's a National Historic Landmark that even is visible from earth orbit. There is a visitors center where you can look at the mine, and even see them blasting. That mine is a good example for examining how we can clearly describe something really big in a presentation.
Kennecott Utah Copper has a six-minute From Ore to More video about it. Each day they mine 500,000 tons of ore, which is described as being 10,000 50-ton humpback whales. Most of us don't see humpback whales in everyday life. They could equally well convert the 500,000 tons to a billion pounds per day.
The video also mentions that each giant truck they use for ore hauling has a capacity of 320 tons. How does that compare with a railroad hopper car or a semi-trailer truck? A ore hopper car holds 110 tons, so it would take three of them to equal a giant truck. A semi-trailer rig can only carry about 25 tons, so it would take 13 of them to equal one giant truck.
If we divide 500,000 tons by 320 we see that they fill 1563 giant trucks per day. There are 1440 minutes in a day, so if we waited by the rock crusher we would see slightly more (1.085) than a truck per minute drive up and dump. That's quite a procession!
They also said that their crusher has a capacity of 10,000 tons per hour. I think that is low by a factor of two. It would mean they only could crush 240,000 tons of ore per day. If they mine 500,000 tons per day, then half of it would just pile up beside the crusher.
How much volume is 500,000 tons per day? The ore probably is about 2.8 times as dense as water, which weighs 62 pounds per cubic foot. Then the volume per day is 5, 760,000 cubic feet. If we dumped that into a mold like a giant ice cube, it would be 179 feet on a side.
A football field is 300 feet long by 160 feet wide. If we could pile that ore up into a big block covering just the field, then it would be 120 feet high. We really couldn't do that because the pile would keep sliding out into the stands and form a gigantic cone. It eventually would bury a college or pro football stadium. Pick your favorite, and then estimate how many days that would take.
Posted by Richard I. Garber at 6:03 AM
Labels: numbers, speechwriting, storytelling
2 comments:
- cafedave said...
Thanks for the ideas - you're right: picturing humpback whales isn't easy to do!
One minor correction - there are 1440 minutes in a day, not seconds. So that's one truck per minute.
- July 19, 2011 at 2:55 AM
- Richard I. Garber said...
You are right. It should be 1440 minutes per day, So it's about a truck per minute not per second. I went back and corrected the text.
Roughly one giant truck per minute is still a pretty impressive procession, almost a Truck-mageddon.
- July 19, 2011 at 9:14 AM
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text:
Last Thursday we went as a school and did street evangelism. It was very interesting. About 60 of us went to downtown Perth and in a shopping/walking area we sang worship songs and gave testimonies. We started by all singing and worshiping for a while, then we would pause and one at a time some of us would jump up on a bench and shout out some sort of short testimony to anyone that was walking by.
Some people gave us annoyed looks, but we also got good reception from others. As we felt prompted, we went and talked to people that were watching us.
I was nervous to do it, but I jumped up and gave a quick 1 minute testimony that I had prepared. It was pretty cool; it felt good.
Thanks for reading!


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text:
this side of mortality (part two)
by renegadekarma
Tatiana had never been a coward. She'd gone plunging in to treat soldiers in the war when she was only sixteen years old. She helped with amputations. She was brave every single day that she was separated from the ones that she loved. Tatiana knew courage through and through – but no matter what, she always understood mercy better.
December 24, 1915
"It's Christmas, boys," the General said with a broad grin.
Benj's first question was how do you know? He'd only been back to war for two months, but already it was taking its toll on him. He was always tired (but what else could you expect when he was woken every few hours to take his turn to stand by the borders and keep watch?) always hungry, always exhausted and missing home. Nevertheless, Benjamin Gray had a job to do here and he was hardly going to abandon his post when there was still a war to fight in.
He'd been half asleep in the barracks; him and the four other men asleep there as well had also just finished up, but Benj was used to getting little sleep and being woken up urgently.
Nate Taylor stirred on the bunk beside him. "Did you get us a present, General?" he asked cheekily as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes.
"Sure did." The General made a big show of feeling through all his pockets for something.
"Unless it's the end of the war," whispered Nate to Benj, "I don't want it."
The General pulled out a bottle of rum.
"I think you're going to change your mind real fast," Benj replied back jokingly as he stood, his boots caked entirely with mud, and then went to the General with a grin. "Where did you get this from, Sir?"
"It's Christmas," General Jones informed him easily. "We can disregard rations for one day. The Germans will take it easy on us tonight."
"Are we going to take it easy on them?" asked Benj.
The General quirked a wry smile. "Just for tonight? Yes." He placed the bottle in the young man's hands and disappeared, presumably to reward the next shift of young men with the same thing.
Benj turned and showed the others in the bunk what he'd been given. "We're getting drunk tonight."
One of the older boys – he thought that his name was Max, scoffed at him. "We can't get drunk on this," he replied in his amused Irish tone, taking the bottle and surveying it critically. "We can, however, have some fun."
That was how the five of them ended up sitting on the floor without any regard for the muddy ground, passing around a bottle. It didn't take long for the effects to take hold. Benj had had wine only once in his life before, when he'd snuck a sip out of his father's glass once, and this was nothing like that. A warm, elated feeling spread through him.
"We should have a toast," he declared, lifting the bottle and nearly spilling it all over himself. Nate grabbed his arm to steady it, and then took it from Benj to put it to his lips again.
Max quirked a grin. "What are you going to toast to?"
Benj focused on him. He couldn't say that he knew the four men around him very well. One of them was Nate Taylor, another Seth Allen, and the other two were named Max and Danny. He didn't know their last names, and he hadn't wanted to ask. They must have been in the war for about as long as he had been, but they were older than he was; only barely nineteen or so themselves, but when he was only seventeen now and not even of age, he didn't want to risk asking them more about themselves.
With a little bit of liquor in him, however, all the soldiers were a little bit braver.
"To life," Nate decided, and took a swig. He passed it to Seth.
"To not being dead," Seth decided, and took a sip.
Nate frowned. "That's basically the same thing that I said, mate. Come up with something new."
Seth gave him a small shrug. "To living through a year of the war and still being here?" Without opposition, he took another sip and passed the bottle on.
Max was the next to take it. "To Christmas," he affirmed.
Danny took it from him. "To hopefully being back home with our families by this time next year," he said firmly, the gruffness in his voice almost hiding the Welsh tone, and then took a sip amidst the cheerful whoops of the other four in agreement.
Benj was the last to get the bottle. He was always a sappy person, and the spirit of the holidays and the warm feeling running through him set off into another such mood. "To love," he decided, and took a big swig.
Nate cut him off and took the bottle again, and Benj flopped backwards on the ground cheerfully. His curls were gone again; he'd been forced to cut them off the day that he'd been sent back to the trenches. For some time, he'd thought wistfully to how his girl had used to thread her fingers through the curls before he consoled himself with the idea that he'd grow them back by the next time that he saw her. If he saw her again; he wasn't a pessimist, but war had turned once idealistic Benjamin Gray into someone who was far more realistic.
"What kind of love?" Max questioned.
Benj pressed a hand to his lips to stifle a burp. "All kinds of love, I suppose. For your mums. For all your brothers in the war. For the girls you left behind."
Danny made a noise something between a groan and a sigh, and Benj turned to him. "What?"
"I remembered my girl again," Danny said, rubbing ruefully at his forehead. "She'll be livid that I haven't written in a few days, but I haven't had much time. Besides, there's not much to write, is there? Every day is just about the same. You wake up, you eat, you go on watch, and then you come back and sleep and start it all over in a few hours."
Nate let out a hiccup. "You could write her about the rats. They're fairly new."
The others chose to ignore this. "I don't think so," Benj said thoughtfully after he contemplated this for some time. "You never know, there might be things in her life that are new to ask her about. Besides, if you run out of room to report what you've done during the day, write about her, and how much you're thinking about her in this hell out here. Write about your feelings."
Danny was thoughtful. "That's true," he mused, and then his lips curved up into an amused grin. "Look at me, I'm taking love advice from a kid who probably doesn't know anything about it. Have you ever even kissed a girl, Benji?"
Benj felt a sudden surge of annoyance at the man, and he wasn't sure if it was induced by the insinuation that he had no experience or for the alcohol running through all of their systems right now. "I have," he declared haughtily, and when Danny laughed, he continued, "I have a girl too, you know."
"With all your romantic lines about feelings, I'm not surprised you've got a girl. I'm impressed." Seth put out an unsteady arm on Benj's shoulder.
"Thanks, Seth."
Danny looked less impressed, but he at least looked the tiniest bit sheepish. "Right, well," he cleared his throat, "Mia's still annoyed that I enlisted. She tells me just about every time she writes to me, and I don't know how to change it."
Benj's annoyance melted away into sympathy. "My Mum does the same thing. I think she'll come round eventually. Maybe when the war's won, but I think it's mostly that I enlisted without even giving her any warning."
"I did the same," Danny said with a small laugh. "My sister hated me for it. She wouldn't write back to me for a whole month after I joined until she finally got over it."
"Mine won't stop writing," Benj replied, "She gives me every tiny detail at home – Dear Benj, today Mum bought half a dozen eggs. She says we've got to stock up while rations are generous." He closed his mouth suddenly, awash in such a strong wave of homesickness that it gripped him tightly and made him remember all the comforts that home had provided him with. He had nothing out here but his memories to recall the better days with, and he closed his eyes to relive them; but soon they were replaced with dreams for the future instead of the golden-tinted events of the past.
"What does your girl write to you about?" Danny asked at last.
Benj opened one blue eye to peer at him. He wasn't sure if the boy was simply taking the piss out of him or if he was actually asking because he wanted to know. Benj decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"All sorts of things. She's a nurse in Italy, so she talks about the hospital a lot, and the other patients in there. Also about her best friend, who's another nurse. Sometimes she puts in a line of poetry that she really likes because she thinks that I might like reading it too," and he did, not because he had any real appreciation for poetry, but simply because the words were written in Tatiana's hand. "She asks about me a lot. I never know how much to tell her."
There's a sage nod from around the small circle. They know that there's plenty that they can't write to home about. The dead bodies buried in the trenches itself, the rats underfoot, the crushing and dismal realization that they might well die in this miserable, stinking hole without feeling as if they'd done anything for their country – all of those topics weren't to be spoken about. They weren't even to be written about. Not now, at least, when they're so fresh in their minds; they're still living in Hell. They can't talk about it now.
The mood had been set off somehow by those words, but Benj sensed this and tried to brighten up. "The rum's not all gone, is it?" he asked, effectively reminding the others that it was still there. He sat back up, feeling slightly less-lightheaded than before.
Danny shot him a sideways glance. "What's her name?"
Benj though briefly of how he'd met her so many times before she'd told him. Tatiana Penvrane was an easy person to get attached to, and he was already lost. He thought that he might save someone else from doing the same. "She doesn't share it easily," Benj said at last, "You have to earn it. I call her Nurse – or Darling, but that's less professional, and then the Matron always glared at me when she heard."
That earned him a laugh from the others, and Danny clapped him on the back. Benj grinned back and picked up the rum again – it was Christmas, he decided. If there was one day he was going to dwell on memories and dreams of the future instead of focusing on the present situation, then it was today.
December 25, 1915
"Alright girls, settle down," Matron Collins-Stroud said, but there was a small smile on her lips as the young women in front of her giggled, still pulling apart their Christmas crackers.
Tatiana pulled a little yellow paper crown out from the end of hers that she'd won from Lydia and placed it onto her dark chocolate locks. "Oh, two in one!" She pulled the second blue paper crown from the cracker and handed it to Lydia with a grin. Lydia placed it atop her own hair, and Tatiana admired her friend. "I always knew that you'd make a good queen."
Lydia let out a small, amused scoff, but didn't take off her crown. "After what happened to the Romanovs? No thank you, I prefer democracy." The words were delivered in the usual Lydia fashion, but the woman smiled over at the darker-haired one anyway.
Tatiana turned her chin up pointedly. "If you won't take the monarchy, then I will," she declared jokingly, "That way I could just decree the war over and make the soldiers come home."
Lydia's smile faded slightly. "If the queen could do that, she would have by now."
Tatiana knew she was right, but she couldn't help but feeling slightly crushed by the words. She placed her half of the cracker on the table and then turned her attention back to the Matron as she spoke again.
"I know that sugar is hard to come by with rations, but," she hesitated, and then left the room before returning with a small chocolate cake. The nurses cheered and clapped in glee. "It's Christmas," explained the Matron. "The soldiers will allow us just a few hours to celebrate."
Besides, Tatiana thought, the patients in the ward probably wanted their own privacy without the nurses to celebrate. She'd already seen one soldier smuggling in alcohol when he'd gone out to 'speak' to the ambulance drivers and had decided to turn a blind eye. Soon there would be raucous singing from the ward, but she knew that even the Matron wouldn't step in unless it got too rowdy. This was a day for them all to celebrate.
Lydia was already cutting the cake into enough pieces for all of the nurses. She handed Tatiana a plate with a slice and then kept dividing the remainder among the others. Tatiana picked at her cake absently. "What do you think the troops are doing right now?"
The rest of the small, crowded table was silent. At last, Ariel across from her leaned forward, resting her chin on her elbows. "I don't know," she said finally. "I expect that it's much the same thing that we're doing, except without the comforts of a proper shelter, or sugary cakes."
"They're probably getting jingled," Lydia said sagely.
"Lyds!" Tatiana turned to her friend in surprise.
"What?" Lydia shrugged. "If we're disregarding rations for a day, they probably are too, and I doubt that they're going to care about sugar as much as alcohol." She paused. "If it's any consolation, the Germans are probably doing the same thing right now, so they'll be safe for today."
The darker-haired nurse decided that she was right and plunged her fork into her piece of cake. "I bet that they're really missing home this time of year."
"So are we," Ariel pointed out as she scraped the icing off of her piece of cake. "But I imagine that it's worse for them. At least we're not in a dirty, wet trench with people constantly firing at us."
"That's enough," the Matron said firmly, and the three of them stopped talking about that subject and turned to another, currently more appealing one.
"Has your boy written back to you yet, Ariel?" Tatiana ventured.
Ariel didn't appear bothered by the lack of communication, even if Tatty and all the other nurses knew that she always waited anxiously for the post in the morning for any news. "Nate? No, not yet, but it's only been a week since his last letter. He's always been lazy, I expect that I'll hear back eventually." She always had an air about her of not caring what anyone thought of her, romantic or otherwise, and it showed now in her nonchalance.
Tatiana almost envied her for it. She herself was lovelorn, drooping at some times and blossoming at others whenever she was handed her post and saw a letter postmarked from Northern France. The other nurses always laughed at her when she ran off with a shriek to read the letter in her room or a closet somewhere as to keep her joy private.
Lydia looked between the two of them, amusement clear in her pale eyes. "Look at you two," she said at last, her tone colored in amusement. "You've both got it so bad."
"Just wait until it happens to you, Lyds," Tatiana replied, this time imitating her friend's wise tone, and then grinned sweetly at her friend when Lydia let out a small laugh.
"Unlikely. I think with my head, remember?" Lydia tapped a finger against her temple.
"It takes your head to fall in love, too," reminded Tatiana, and then grinned brilliantly when Lydia stopped to consider this. "Anyway, it's Christmas. It's the best time of the year to fall in love." Or to be in love, and luckily for Tatiana Penvrane, she already had that for herself.
January 2, 1916
Dear Mia,
I know that you're still angry with me. I would be too if you'd done the same thing to me, but our roles aren't reversed right now. This is the way that things are, and we have to accept them. I admit that I'm still scared out here. Being in war doesn't get easier, but it does make me number to everything I face – except death. Imagining my own is terrifying. Sometimes I think about how I'll go. Will I die in battle heroically? Will I be caught in a bombed trench? Will I end up eighty years old in a bed back at home with you and our children fussing over me as I take my last breath?
If there's one thing that keeps me going, it's you. I want to see you again, but I don't want it to be because I've been injured so badly out here that that they send me all the way back home to be treated in a hospital by you. I don't know if they'd ship me back to the UK, anyway. Maybe I'd end up at Tatty's hospital in Verona. I don't want some Italian nurse treating me, though. I want you.
You haven't found some English soldier to replace me, have you? I'll come back home and fight him for your affections again. Before you ask – no, I haven't found someone else here. Clearly not. My only love in these trenches are my boots that keep the water out. It's terrible in here, but we try to make it bearable somehow. I won a little spinning top off of one of the other soldiers in a game of cards yesterday, so I'm putting that in the envelope for you.
When I get home, I'll buy you a ring all properly but until now, will you take this in its place?
January 28, 1916
Josephine Penvrane ran her fingers behind her ears to brush her dark hair behind them. The Rookery was filling up quickly with beds and bodies of all of the patients that had overflown from the hospital, and now that she was not only the lady of the house and the last one remaining but also the nurse in charge of their small hospital, she found her hands quite full.
"Not much longer now," she chirped cheerfully to Ethan Swifte as she put on her brightest face. He was here after his trench had just about exploded, and though he'd been there for just a few weeks, he was about to be shipped back out again.
Ethan let out a light laugh. "Lucky me." He peeled back the bandages on his arm and Josie swatted at him until he moved his hand away and ceased picking at it. "You sure this will be healed by then?"
Josie wasn't sure, actually, but her bright expression was still on her lips and she nodded anyway. "It'll be fine," she said confidently. "Just don't mess with it now, and it'll be nice and healed up by the time that you're back on your way to France." She paused. "Actually, will you a do a favor for me?"
"What is it?" Ethan looked up at Josie curiously. She had nursed him back to health after he'd been on the brink of death. Anything that she asked of him was something that he would do without question.
Josie hesitated, and then she pulled something out of her pocket. "Mia wanted to get this to Daniel somehow. She wanted to put it in the mail, but I think she wanted it to be more personal than that." It was a single slip of paper (Josie had already checked), and all that it said was yes in embellished, beautiful calligraphy. Josie already had an idea of what the question was.
Ethan nodded and slipped it into his pocket. "I'll be sure to."
"And another thing," Josie added, and then gave the boy a grin, weary but affectionate, "When you see him, make sure that you give him a swift kick from me about how he didn't even tell his own mother that he was enlisting."
Ethan smiled back brilliantly. "I'll be sure to."
February 14, 1916
Darling, dearest, Benj,
I feel like a lovesick schoolgirl still when I'm writing letters to you. I guess that I would be a lovesick schoolgirl if it weren't wartime, wouldn't I? I'm not even seventeen yet; I'd still be getting an education. Although I suppose that if it were wartime, we'd have no reason to meet. You'd be in England and I'd be in Wales and we'd have no reason to cross paths. I'm so glad that we have, even if it was under the circumstances of making you well again after you nearly got torn apart in the trenches.
I hope they're not as bad this time, darling, but the soldiers I'm treating come in and tell me that they're even worse. I don't know if it's simply because they're injured that they're saying that because they're in so much pain, but if that's the truth, then please be safe. I don't know when I'll see you again, but I don't want it to be a question of if I'll see you again.
When do you next get leave? Surely it can't be that long, can it? You left four months ago and I don't know how long they can keep you out there. I'm not a soldier. I'll ask my brother the next time that I write. He might be out before you are since he's been serving longer and he also didn't take a hit that put him in a hospital for a while like you have (unless he has and just hasn't told any of us about it).
I've been treating dozens of patients, but none of them are like you. None of them even make good conversation. I know that I'm doing important work, but I'm so detached from the field and fighting that I can barely tell. I also miss you like an ache and I just want you back again.
It's Valentine's Day here. A few of the soldiers gave me daffodils that they picked from outside the hospital and three of them (jokingly) proposed to me, but I told them that I was taken. I've pressed a daffodil into this letter for you. Neither of us have much time for valentines, but will you be mine?
Love love love (because I could write it a million times to you, but I'll settle for three),
February 26, 1916
Darling, dearest, Tatty,
I can't even imagine that if it weren't for the war, I probably would never have met you. I don't thank the war for very much, but that's one of the things that I'm grateful to it for. Maybe I'd be a lovesick school boy too, even if I'd probably be in a school in England and in love with some other very pretty nurse. Before you get jealous, I'm joking. I've only got eyes for you.
Speaking of that, some of the boys have been asking how you looked like and I realized, like a complete idiot, that I didn't even think to take a small picture of you with me to carry around and look at whenever I wanted a reason to fight. I carry your letters instead. I know that you've said that you stick mine in your apron when you're working so they're always nearby, and I do the same with your letters under my uniform. They don't get wet this way, and I can carry them next to my heart and count down the days until I see you once more.
I expect that I'll get leave in a few more months. Nobody knows how long we're here for, not even the Generals even if they pretend that they do. Everyone said this war would be over two Christmases ago; here we are, February 1916, and it's still going. I feel lied to. As soon as I get leave, though, I'm coming back to Italy for you. Your brother might be out before me, though, but you said that he'll probably go home and see his girl and your Mum instead of going to see you in Italy, so you might end up seeing me first. One of the boys in my unit, Danny, says that when he was in a field hospital for a few days he didn't write to his parents or sister about it because he said that they'd worry, so there's a chance your brother has done the same thing.
I miss you as well. I think of our time together often when I'm sitting in the trenches, half buried in mud. I will see you again soon; I don't know how soon, but I know that it can't be much longer, and that's what's keeping me going through this.
You won't have taken up with one of your new patients when I come back to see you, will you? I can't give you daffodils or Valentine's Day proposals, but I can give you my heart. I already have, actually. Make sure you take care of it. I'm not actually worried, though. I've left it in good hands.
Love love love (why three times? Is this going to be your send-off for me? Do I get three times the normal amount of love anyone else gets?) ,
April 3, 1916
Lydia started at the sound of her best friend's voice and then plastered a smile over her lips. "Hello, Tatty. What do you need?'
Tatiana was more gullible than her friend was, but she could see the way that the other nurse's eyes changed when they saw her, how shifty she'd looked before Tatiana had spoken and broken her out of her reverie. She thoughtfully tilted her head at the other nurse. "I only came in to get another washbasin. Will you hand me that one over there?"
"Of course." Lydia smoothly slid one of the smaller ones off of the shelf and handed it to her friend.
Tatiana took it but she narrowed her eyes at her friend nevertheless. "I've got to go clean off the patient with that nasty cheek wound. Will you help me with it? He makes too much of a fuss every time I try to do anything, so I might need someone to hold him down."
Lydia smiled teasingly. "What, you're not just going to sit on this poor boy?"
Tatiana flushed. "I only did that once – er, twice. But that was only to one soldier, and that was for a good reason! Don't you start on me, you know that I got enough of a lecture from Matron Collins-Stroud after that."
"I think that that was more for the fact that you got into bed with a soldier," Lydia replied.
"Into a hospital bed next to one to keep him warm and make sure that he was being looked after," Tatiana defended.
Lydia let out a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh. "Alright, Tatty. At least you're not doing it again, or your boy will be jealous."
"He doesn't get jealous," Tatiana declared as she started out of the closet, Lydia at her heels, "and besides, I'm not doing that to anyone else."
"So you do admit that it wasn't meant to be a purely professional thing? That it wasn't just about sharing body warmth and looking after a soldier with a fever like you told the Matron?" Lydia quirked an eyebrow upward.
Tatiana opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it and closed it sullenly. Lydia smirked and walked ahead of her friend to tug open the door of her ward, but as she did, Tatiana could see the small pile of bandages sticking out of the hidden pocket in her apron (the one that the nurses often used to sneakily take army knives away from the soldiers that they thought were violent or volatile).
She didn't drop her expression, but Tatiana mad a note to keep an eye on her best friend.
May 29,1916
They had just finished their duty again, and now Daniel and Benj were sitting on their bunks, each of them writing letters.
"When's the wedding?" asked Benj idly.
Danny looked up and then shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said thoughtfully after a few seconds. "Her birthday's not for another two months so she's not even eighteen yet, but she's already agreed to marry me. I expect that by the time we're out on leave, I'll go home and marry her."
"Romantic," Benj said as he continued to write. "My girl's not eighteen yet, either, but her birthday is today so she's a year closer." He paused. "Of course, I'd have to get back first, and ask her to marry me, of course, but assuming all of that is done, we couldn't even get married until this time next year."
"What's the date?" asked Daniel idly.
"May twenty-ninth."
Daniel put a hand to his head so fast that he left behind a smudge of ink. "It's my kid sister's birthday! I can't believe that I almost forgot. This letter won't get to her in time if it's today, but at least she'll know in a few days that I've been thinking of her." He laid down his sheet of paper and picked up another before he began to write furiously.
Benj watched him with some amusement before he put his own pen back to paper and continued writing. He'd hoped that he'd be back to see Tatty before her birthday and to give her a proper present, but for now he could only settle for a letter. The daffodil she'd given him sat on his bunk, wilted and crumbling, but it still smelled fresh – or at least, anything smelled fresh when he compared it to the stale, terrible air of the trenches.
Seth entered then. "You'll never believe what I bummed from one of the officers." He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and Benj was so pleased that he laughed aloud.
"Seth, mate, you're the star of the show. Pass me one, will you? Have you got a light?" Benj lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a deep puff from it, relishing in the feel of it. He'd turned into a proper soldier out there in the trenches after several months; he drank when he could, he smoked, he swore, he watched for the enemy with narrowed and angry eyes – he was a proper soldier now.
Seth tossed one to Daniel as well and then sat on the bunk beside him. "I think the enemy line's getting closer," he said with a cigarette between his lips. "I heard some of the officers talking about it today when they thought that no one was around to overhear. They say that one of the sentries on duty last night saw people moving through no-man's land."
"That's a load of shit," Benj replied, "If anyone got through no-man's land, they'd be shot dead as soon as they got anywhere near us. We've always got a few boys with guns at the ready in case they tried to mount a sudden attack."
Seth shrugged. "I don't know, mate, that's all that I've heard. I don't know how much of it is true or not."
"What does Ethan say?" Danny asked nearby.
They both turned thoughtfully. Ethan had been back for a few months now, and his father was a general. If anyone was likely to know information on the strategies that the mere privates weren't privy to, it would have to be him. "I haven't asked," Seth said slowly.
"I will," Danny decided, putting down his letters. "But on the chance that they actually are preparing to mount an attack on us, you two should get some rest. We'll be up all night soon."
"After this letter," Benj decided, holding his cigarette in one hand and the pen in the other as he continued to write back to Tatty.
June 4, 1916
Tatiana had let this go on for too long. Perhaps she was too trusting; she believed that in the end, the truth would come out. Everyone that she knew was keeping secrets – hell, she was keeping secrets herself – but most of those would be revealed with time and trust. Already, she knew most of Lydia's, and Lydia knew most of hers. She'd hoped that she'd get to find out this one as well, but so far, Lydia hadn't told her anything, and she decided that she'd done this for long enough. Two months had passed, and though she knew there was something going on, she hadn't done anything about it until now.
"What are you hiding?"
Lydia jumped, her comb catching on her hair. She tugged it out and laid it on the bedside table. "What do you mean?" she asked, turning to Tatty.
The dark-haired nurse was not in the mood to play games or to run around in circles before they approached the point. "I know it's something," she warned her friend. "I just didn't think that you'd keep it a secret for so long. What is it? Why do you keep taking those supplies from the cupboard? Are you selling them to someone?"
Lydia had the decency to look sheepish. "You saw me? No, of course I'm not selling them to someone."
"Where do they go, then?" Tatiana asked, and lifted an eyebrow at her best friend.
Lydia gripped her comb and stared at it, and Tatiana could see that the other woman was having an internal battle of some sorts. The two trusted each other with their lives, with their secrets, with everything that they had. She hoped that the other nurse would trust her with this too.
At last, Lydia placed down her comb. "Alright," she said, her voice quiet, "but you can't tell Matron Collins-Stroud."
This condition surprised her. Tatiana blinked hazel eyes in surprise once before she nodded.
Lydia rose from her bed and took her friend's hand before she guided her out of the nurse's quarters. They stopped at the corner to make sure that the Matron wasn't nearby to see them slip out, and then they left the hospital premises altogether.
"Where are we going?" Tatiana asked under a whisper.
"Here," whispered Lydia, and then guided her toward an old, abandoned shack. Tatiana was sure that it had been some sort of place to hold grain before the war had begun; now it lay empty, as did the fields of crops that had already been taken to feed the soldiers. She gave her friend a perplexed look, but Lydia didn't look back at her as she went to the shack, rapped on it four times in a specific pattern, and then opened the door. Tatiana followed her.
"Derek," whispered Lydia, "I brought company."
There was a soldier lying on a makeshift cot made out of hay and an old bag. He opened one of his eyes warily at Tatiana. "I thought you weren't telling anyone," he said in exasperation.
"I had to tell her," defended Lydia. "She found out. Besides, she's another nurse. She can help."
Tatiana stepped forward carefully. "What happened?"
"Shrapnel," explained Lydia, "He's got it all over himself. I've been taking the supplies for him, so that I could try to treat him on my own, and I've been successful, but it's been slow. I only have one pair of hands, and I don't even have all of the proper equipment that the hospital has to do this."
"Why aren't you just treating him at the hospital?" Tatiana asked in confusion. "He's one of the soldiers like all the others. He'll get treatment faster there, and he'll be more comfortable on a real bed."
Lydia and Derek exchanged a look and Tatiana knew that they were communicating without speaking. Without either of their heads moving or their expressions changing, they seemed to have come to an agreement. "Here," Lydia said to Tatty, and then pulled her to another end of the small shack.
The blonde nurse dropped the volume of her voice. "Derek is my brother."
"Your twin brother, yes, I know," replied Tatiana in confusion.
"He's injured pretty badly not because his trench exploded or because of enemy fire," explained Lydia in a cool, quiet voice. Had Tatiana not known her, she would have said that Lydia was fine, but the quality of her voice betrayed herself to Tatty; she could sense the nerves under it. Lydia paused for a moment. "He was running from the battle when one of his own threw a grenade at him. He was really badly injured, but one of the other divisions discovered him and brought him in with their wounded. His name will have made the list right now, though."
Tatiana stared, and then blinked. "Are you saying that he's a deserter?"
Lydia gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, and suddenly everything clicked into face for the brunette.
"So he wouldn't get treatment if he were in the hospital," she concluded, "and that's why you won't tell anyone that he's here or that he's alive; he'd be executed for cowardice if he were."
Lydia nodded again slowly, and her jaw set. "I can't let them kill him. He's my brother. Other than Laura, he's the only sibling that I have left. I can't say that I agreed with what he did, but I have to keep him alive. I have to keep this family together." Her eyes had taken on a somewhat crazed look, but the rest of her features were smooth, impassive.
Tatiana glanced back at Derek. "He's really injured, isn't he?"
"Yes," Lydia returned. "He needs more medical attention." She paused. "Will you help?"
Tatiana had never been a coward. She'd gone plunging in to treat soldiers in the war when she was only sixteen years old. She helped with amputations. She was brave every single day that she was separated from the ones that she loved. Tatiana knew courage through and through – but no matter what, she always understood mercy better. She didn't agree with what Derek had done, but she couldn't turn away someone who wanted her care.
She nodded. "Do you have tweezers?"
July 31, 1916
"Mrs. Penvrane," Daniel said with a grin.
"Mr. Penvrane," Mia replied, matching his grin, "my husband."
Josie cleared her throat. "Alright, lovebirds, there'll be plenty of time for sweet talk later. Will you walk now? The patients have been looking forward to your wedding ever since they heard that you were coming home."
The newlyweds could scarcely take their eyes off of each other, but they did as Josie said. Daniel was at the Rookery for this weekend, and this weekend only; they'd married now to make the most of it and so that his mother could be present (even if most of both his and her families were absent), but at least they were together for now, and when he left again, she'd be Mia Penvrane, not just the girl waiting for him back home, but his lawfully wedded wife.
They grinned as they passed through the makeshift hospital in The Rookery and the patients through rice at them, calling out cheers and congratulations as Josie stood in the back, her hands clasped and her eyes shining with tears at the sight of her son and his wife, so grown up already.
July 31, 1916
"When will it get here?"
"You've asked me that half a dozen times already, Tatty," Ariel reminded the other nurse as they waited by the gate in front of the hospital, but she didn't look irritated; she simply seemed as impatient as her friend was.
The soldiers were due to come home on their leave that day. Tatiana knew that it was only for the weekend, a way to boost the morale of the soldiers as the war stretched deeper into the summer, but right now, it was more than enough for her. All she wanted was a sight of him and she'd be satisfied.
She perked up at the sound of a car only to watch it drive by the hospital instead, and her shoulders fell glumly.
"Excuse me, Nurse?" came a voice from behind them.
Tatiana absently waved behind her. "In a minute, Sir, I'm expecting someone. They should be here any minute now and I don't want to miss them."
"It's just that I've lost something," the voice behind her explained patiently. "I think that you might have an idea of where it is."
"Do I?" Tatiana's responses were absent, her hazel gates still past the gates and on the road.
There was the sound of laughter, distinctly another man, and then what sounded like the swat of a hand against fabric. The first man continued onward, "It's my heart, you see. I was thinking that you might be the one who had it."
She scarcely had time to exchange a look with Ariel before she was turning around and there they were; two soldiers, weary but beaming at them.
Benj winked at her, and before she knew it, she was running forward and leaped at him so suddenly that he staggered backward in surprise before he righted himself with a laugh, wrapping his arms around her instinctively as well. "Darling," he greeted her.
"Darling," she replied, lifting her face up to kiss him. They were clumsy at first, out of practice as she pressed kisses to every part of his face that she could reach and he did the same to her, and she found that she didn't mind her lipstick smudging all over her mouth or his when their lips finally crashed together and her hands wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.
They broke apart, breathless, not even minding Ariel and Nate nearby as he took her hand and led her back to behind the hospital to their little bench. Tatiana kept squeezing his hand, scarcely believing that he was actually there and beside her, and her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. Instead, she chattered the entire way and as they sat, filling him in on all of the details from the hospital before she turned to asking questions.
"Are the trenches terrible?"
Benj's smile slipped a notch. "They're the trenches," he replied with a shrug, "They're always going to be pretty bad."
"Have you met anyone new?"
"Oh, yes, I've met a ton of soldiers. I know guys named Max and Danny and Seth and Nate now – oh, that was Nate back there, but I guess you must already know who he is if his girl is your friend. We're all mates now; we're on the same duty shifts."
Tatiana watched him speak in some kind of rapture, her hazel gaze giddily fixed on him. The next question from her mouth was instinctive. "Did you miss me?"
"Of course," Benj answered without hesitation. "Did you miss me?"
"More than you can imagine," Tatiana replied without pause.
Benj laughed and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Oh, I can imagine exactly how much, believe me." He tilted to press a kiss to her forehead and then trailed a line of kisses down the bridge of her nose. He hesitated just before he got to her lips, gave her a cheeky smile, and as he was leaning in –
The two of them turned to see the Matron standing outside, and then Tatiana let out a small groan. "You're going to get me scolded for impropriety," she chided Benj.
He lifted an eyebrow. "Isn't it worth it, though?"
"Oh, of course," Tatiana answered cheerfully, and then let him kiss her this time, long and hard. She broke it only to call back to the head nurse, "In a minute!" before she turned her attention back to Benj and kissed him again, her hands grabbing at his shoulders to reassure herself that he was there, that he was real.
September 5, 1916
Cleaning bedpans was Tatiana's least favorite job. She suspected that it was the Matron's way of punishing her for her public displays of affection the month before, but she didn't understand why her punishment had to extend this long. Fortunately, Ariel was beside her doing the same thing.
"These smell horrible," Ariel said in annoyance as she picked up a dirty bedpan with a frown.
Tatiana put a freshly washed bedpan with the others in the pile and then tugged her gloves higher on her hands. "I can't believe we're on bedpan duty again. Why didn't Alice get bedpan duty? She was kissing that soldier a few months ago in the ward right in front of everyone."
"It's because he died two weeks later and she spent so much time crying that Matron Collins-Stroud took pity on her," Ariel said wisely as she dumped water all over the bedpan.
Tatiana groaned, but she couldn't help but feel infinitely luckier at the story. Her sweetheart was still alive; more than that, he was alive and well, and he loved her. The only drawback was that he was hundreds of miles away, but Tatiana had always been a romantic. Despite the war raging on, she knew that love would prevail. It was what kept her going, what kept him thinking about survival; it would reunite them again soon.
"I'm going to take these out," she said as she picked up the stack of clean bedpans, and had just left behind the washroom when she bumped into a figure being wheeled by. "I'm so sorry," she apologized as she gripped the bedpans tighter to keep her hold on them, but her hazel eyes blinked in startled shock as she recognized the patient.
October 12, 1916
"She finally sent me a picture of herself," Benj said as he shook out the envelope. He beamed at the photo, even if the subject of it wasn't there in person to beam back at him, and then he passed it to Nate next to him.
"I've already seen her in person," Nate reminded him with a chuckle as he passed along the photo to Seth, and then to Max, who handed it to Danny.
"I can't look, I'm married," Danny answered, lying down on his bunk and covering his face with the letter that he'd just been reading.
"You're married, not dead," reminded Seth, "You can look at pretty girls."
"I have my own pretty girl," Daniel reminded him, "I don't need to be looking at any other one."
"Well, you can take my word for it that she's beautiful," Benj said as Max passed him back the small photograph. He pulled out his compass, tucked the picture into it, and then put it back into his pocket. "And she's very much real, so I'm sure that you feel like a right ass for what you said to me on Christmas."
"You still remember that?" Daniel asked in surprise.
"I remember every grudge I have," Benj said mildly. "For example, Seth here took all my butter rations the first week that we were stationed here and he still hasn't compensated me."
"I give you cigarettes that I get all the time!" complained Seth.
"It's not butter, though," Benj retorted bitterly.
Max glanced outside their bunk as officers walked by in a tight huddle. "Why do they keep doing this?" he muttered in annoyance. "There have been reports of someone trying to breach no man's land for months. I wish they'd just tell us if they were true or not so that we could go about normal again instead of being on edge all the time."
Benj had to agree. The two-day reprieve that he'd had was far too short, and that had been a whole month and a half earlier. He was already aching for another chance to return to Italy.
"We should probably be getting ready for our shift," Nate said with a heavy sigh as he stood and buckled his boots back on, and all the men trudged after him.
Guard duty on the trenches was both terrifying and boring. Every time he stood at the border, Benj was reminded that he was right in the line of fire and could die right there and then, or he remembered the time when he'd been nearly blasted out of the trench and had injured himself. At the same time, however, he rarely saw movement when he was up there; it was only a constant reminder that the enemy was there doing the same thing on the other side, and that they were just waiting for someone to make the move.
Today, however, he almost regretted thinking of the trenches as boring.
There were shapes crossing the field. "They can't be this stupid," Seth said in wonder, "There are grenades out there." Sure enough, one went off, but the rest of the men weren't deterred. They kept running; in fact, more poured out of the trenches and began running toward them.
"Oh my god," Max breathed as Daniel let out a swear under his breath and ran to ring the alarms, "They're trying to ambush us! The officers were right – but they're going to make it."
"They don't need to make it all the way here," Benj said shortly before he saw one man lift a gun and the other's follow. "Heads down!"
The soldiers ducked simultaneously as bullets rained down upon them and explosions started and before he knew it, he was sucked back into the horror and thrill of war. He lifted his own gun as the other British soldiers swarmed out of the barracks, the generals screaming orders as they all scrambled to take down the invaders.
Benj raised his gun and shot round after round.
October 12, 1916
It was mass hysteria. A nurse had yelled that they were being bombed, and suddenly there was mass pandemonium. None of the nurses could stop it; neither could the matron.
They were all running around, gathering supplies, moving patients. Tatiana was helping them down the stairs before she was called up to help transport a man to a stretcher. It was normally a job that the ambulance drivers did, but they were frantically trying to evacuate the hospital as well.
Tatiana's heart hammered in her chest. This wasn't the same lovesick pitter-patter she got when she thought of Benj. This was pure, undiluted fear, and it was overwhelming her. Tatiana had never been close to the action before, and now that she was, she desperately wished that she wasn't. It was terrifying; at any moment, a bomb could come down and kill them – all the patients, all the nurses.
"Easton," she gripped the man's hand, "get the rest of the nurses out. I have to check that the next ward over is empty."
She ran out of her ward then before he could reply and then peered around at all the beds and found them empty. Tatiana was just running back to her ward when she saw Lydia running the wrong way.
"Where are you going?"
"Derek!" she explained. "He still can't move! I can't leave him there; if we get bombed, then he'll get hit too. He's too close."
"Lydia –" But the other was gone, and Tatiana was torn for a moment before she began to run after her down the stairs in the opposite direction from the rest of the evacuees.
The air whistled around them, and she wasn't sure who was shrieking or what was making that noise, simply that it was flooding her senses as suddenly the building shook with a giant crash.
October 13, 1916
The shapes above him were moving, shifting, turning amorphous and then not as they solidified and then liquefied again. Benj felt as if his head was on fire. He was lying somewhere very hard, and his back hurt and his sides hurt and his legs and arms and head and ears and everything hurt. He groaned in pain.
His vision blurred again before it solidified in shapes. The sun was high, and it cast a glow on everything. Someone was bending over him, long hair slipping over her shoulder. It looked angelic in the light, but Benj could barely see. He was screwing his eyes shut until a hand laid something cool on his forehead and stroked back his hair.
"Tatty?" he managed in relief.
He opened his eyes again. The nurse was blonde, her eyes wide as she wiped at his forehead. He didn't know where he was or who she was, but he didn't have the energy to form more than that one word. The woman lifted a glass to his lips and he took a sip before he slumped back into a fitful sleep.


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This week Governor Steve Beshear spends 1:49 discussing the Forbes list:
Month: September 2011
Student Assignment Plan Suffers Major Blow
A split Kentucky appeals court has struck down Jefferson County's student assignment plan, saying the law as written allows parents to register their children at the nearest school to their home.
Judge Kelly Thompson, in an opinion joined by Judge Thomas Caperton, overturned a circuit judge's decision upholding the plan, under which some students are taken by bus to schools across the county.
This is sure to be a crazy ass argument that's about to begin.
UPDATE — Here's what David Williams had to say:
"This ruling validates what I and thousands of concerned citizens in Jefferson County have long argued. This failed social experiment should be scrapped and replaced with a neighborhood schools plan, putting kids in classrooms closer to home and allowing for greater participation from parents and grandparents. Unfortunately, Gov. Beshear and his running mate Jerry Abramson have long opposed my plan for neighborhood schools despite overwhelming evidence that the current student assignment plan has done nothing to improve test scores. I hope the school board leaves this misguided policy behind and moves forward with a neighborhood schools plan that will accomplish what we all want – the best possible education for every child in every part of Jefferson County."
The paper will try to blame him for everything wrong in Louisville in 3, 2…
Of All The Things For Greg Fischer To Promote
Bridge Repairs To Take 6 Months, Cost $20 Million
Here's what John Yarmuth had to say on the matter:
"The Sherman Minton does not need extensive repairs which is great news for our community. A timeframe of six months is much better than several years, however, it is still a long time for commuters and local businesses. A bipartisan coalition has come together to make this a top national priority and we remain committed to doing whatever it takes to expedite the process and get traffic moving across the bridge again."
Guess the Indiana Mayoral Candidate bit off more than he could chew when announcing repairs would only take two months. Woops.
Hope You're Riding A Bike To Work Right Now
Some of those jobs Steve Beshear boasts about creating just do not exist. But you already knew that. Seriously – just read the second paragraph and laugh: Hundreds of specific jobs that the Democratic governor identifies on his campaign Web site actually have not been created since the initial press releases went out, or they were partially offset by subsequent layoffs at the same companies, or they were announced under Ernie Fletcher, Beshear's Republican predecessor. I predict Steve Beshear will try to get John Cheves fired as he tried to do with Ryan Alessi during the Kentucky Central story. [John Cheves]
Papaw Beshear will be at a presser in New Albany, Indiana today at 9:30 A.M. to discuss the Sherman Minton Bridge. [Press Release]
A mayoral candidate in Indiana is upstaging Steve Beshear and crew by announcing the Sherman Minton will reopen within two months. [WHAS11]
Mitch Daniels can't even manage his state's bridges. Of course he couldn't run for the presidency. [Slate]
The pre-application process begins on Monday for heating assistance. It's going to be mind-boggling to see how many people need help this year. [WAVE3]
Just a reminder that if you know someone who is committing disability fraud, report them ASAP. [Page One]
The Saint James Court Art Shenanigans are this weekend. Are you going to go spend all kinds of money? We hope so. Because it's why Louisville can have nice things. [FOX41]
Ford could add some 10,000 jobs but would any of them end up in Louisville? [Business First]
Steve Beshear is the biggest coal shill in Kentucky but no Democrats want to admit it or have a discussion about it. [WLKY]
Greg Fischer is riding his bike for the second time this year. We hope you're doing the same and we hope the city makes it easier and easier for you to do so. [Broken Sidewalk]
We stand by our assertion that Greg Fischer only ran for mayor to appear more frequently in the local party rags and to embarrass us on White House video. [WFPL]
Your Weekly Transportation Lady Video Update
This week the Transportation Lady discusses the Sherman Minton Bridge debacle:
A Thought On Metro Animal Services' Kill Rate
Let's say you're one of those alleged terrible pet owners Greg Fischer's office loves to blame for all of the problems at Louisville Metro Animal Services.
Do you know how many animals you'd have to kill in order to keep up with LMAS?
You'd have to kill one pet per day for 25 years to kill as many dogs and cast as LMAS kills in a year.
Jim King freaked out when people started calling his office a couple weeks ago. So be sure to be specific with your requests when you're speaking with Jim or his staff. And know your statistics and facts – don't play pat-a-cake.
Kids? Red Bull? School Buses? Voting? Hilarious
Everyone is freaking out over this anti-Steve Beshear ad that uses neighborhood schools as a scare tactic:
Sure, it's extreme but it resonates with a ton of Louisville voters with kids in Jefferson County Public Schools.
It's just too little, too late and a serious waste of money.
Don't Get In The Water With Greg Fischer
Maybe It's Best To Just Stop Driving Forever, Folks
Every T, D & H on earth – 16 of them – applied to get Judy Green's old Metro Council seat for the First District. Why some of those folks continue to run for every office they can get their hands on, we'll never know. [WFPL]
Oh, look, it's Greg Fischer trying to act like he understands legislation, government and the economy. [White House]
Grinstead Drive to two lanes? Yes please. Louisville would appreciate that. [C-J/AKN]
We've written about corrupt former Whitley County Sheriff Lawrence Hodge on Page One for years. He's finally been sentenced to 15.5 years in prison for his shenanigans. Seems like just yesterday he was trashing us for questioning him. [H-L]
Catholic Health Initiatives notorious for performing unnecessary surgeries? And the University of Louisville wants to be taken over by CHI? That sounds like a great plan. [WHAS11]
Really, Louisville Democrats (*cough* Jim King *cough*)? Trying to keep the cost of union contract negotiations secret? It's like Jim does every stupid thing people tell him not to do. Wow. If you can't be transparent, you shouldn't be in public office. [ More WFPL]
The Sherman Minton bridge can apparently reopen much sooner than originally expected. [WAVE3]
The premise behind this Parking Day thing is nice and all but what did it accomplish? Nothing. [Broken Sidewalk]
Jefferson County has established a new domestic violence program that could save valuable time and protect lives. [FOX41]
A new beer joint is officially opening on October 4 on Main Street. [Consuming Louisville]
Have you checked out this WWII ship that's landed in Louisville? It's pretty cool and you should do so. [Business First]
Construction on the Gene Snyder? Yes, Louisville, the world is coming to an end. [WLKY]


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4713 Reid Street, Vancouver MLS®: R2252912
This two level single house located at Rupert & Wellington. Close to school, shopping, bus. Only minutes walk to 29th Avenue Skytrain Station or Joyce Skytrain Station. House is well maintained and in good/clean condition. Some updates has been done in year 2010, including: electrical, furnace, double glazed windows, tiles/gleaming hardwood floor, kitchen cabinets/appliances, sun deck and driveway. New Insulation just finished 5 years ago. A 2 bedroom basement suite with separate entrance can easy be rented for $950 to be a mortgage helper.
Taxes (2017): $4,485.01
- ClthWsh
- Dryr
- Frdg
- Stve
- Fireplace Insert
Site Influences
- Central Location
- Private Yard
- Recreation Nearby
- Shopping Nearby
Similar Listings
Listed By: New Coast Realty
Disclaimer: Listing data is based in whole or in part on data generated by the Real Estate Board of Greater Vancouver and Fraser Valley Real Estate Board which assumes no responsibility for its accuracy.


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Brochure and Registration for Festival of Quilts posted on SMSF Website
An electronic copy of a brochure containing information and a registration form for the 2018 Festival of Quilts has gone live on the Shepherd Maple Syrup Festival website. Anybody who is interested in participating in this event should check out the brochure. Information can also be found on the site itself.