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Autumn is finally upon us and I am reminded of why I love this season SO much. The cooler air with some breeze. The crisp mornings with a surprising number of songbirds singing as though they are coming back for spring. This is the first year I noticed that. They are singing so much more than they did in the summer. If spring is the season of new beginnings, what is fall?
It is a spectacular season with majestic colors and the cool breezes are refreshing. The sun sets earlier inviting us to slow down and rest a little.
Today I'm content AND happy. I'm not fighting what "is". At least not today.
We are nearing the end of 2016 (no kidding, we are 2 months away from Christmas...almost) and I was reminded of my "word of the year". I wrote about this in January (like bloggers do). I'm sort of surprised by how fitting the word feels at the moment.
My sweetheart and I have been faced with a diagnosis that has changed our "normal". We are now living our new normal, which will continue to change as things progress. The diagnosis is unequivocal. Knowing is better than not knowing. I was surprised how much my heart ached as I tried to figure out what we do "next". What we do is..."lean in". Energy is too precious to waste on fighting with the fates.
There is an amazing peace that comes with acceptance. Acceptance does not mean giving up. This may sound like a contradiction. We are accepting what is undeniable and what is now. But, we are committed to doing everything we can to slow the progression. I believe that it is possible.
I leave you with a few quotes that do a fairly good job of summing up what I mean.

subset: commoncrawl


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Browsing Wells Lamont
The Wells Lamont Industry Group offers a comprehensive selection of hand and arm protection including cut resistant, critical environment, heat resistant, general purpose, liquid/chemical resistant, leather gloves and more. Since 1907 they have been manufacturing gloves with the finest materials and the most advanced technology and continue to be a leader in today's glove industry. They service many markets including: general industry, foodservice, meat processing, grocery, medical, laboratories, cleanrooms, and the automotive industry by providing unequalled technology, service, and support to both safety distributors and final end users. They place an emphasis on the "value-added benefits" of purchasing Wells Lamont Industrial gloves which include control of quality and design technology. They are the only glove manufacturer in the U.S. to upwind their own yarns and knit them into cut-resistant gloves.
All Day Cut Resistant Sleeve
Scepter Sterile Cut Resistant Liner
Disposable Cotton Liner
Spec-Tec Sterile and Stretchable Liners
Cut Resistant Liner
Critical Enviroment Medical and Reusable Nylon Liners
Metalguard Mastergrip
Metalguard Medium Weight
Metalguard Reinforced Thumb
Mech Pro Plus
FlexTech Palm Coated Gloves
Grain Goatskin Driver
Mech Pro Grip
Grain Leather Driver
Cut Resistant Sleeve


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Welcome to my website!
My name is Rachel Smith and I teach and coach at Herron High School in Indianapolis, IN. This site is intended for the benefit of students and parents. Please see class pages for course descriptions and other links. If you would like any more information, please contact me at:
Office Hours: Mondays/Thursdays 8-8:45 and by appointment


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Balasore, Hari Plaza, India, Rajdhani Express, trains, Travel John
Train 22824 to Bhupaneswar, the state capital of Odisha, leaves precisely on time at 5.10pm, and not a moment too soon for my nostrils. Luckily the experience of inhaling the various dubious aromas of New Delhi station proves to be the least pleasant experience of the trip. A little boy relieves himself off the edge of the platform while a stray dog on the track – well, never mind about what the stray dog does on the track. Nothing unusual in India of course, where the world is the toilet of everyone and his or her dog. In any case, the Rajdhani is supposed to be a cut above the average long distance train, and although my 3AC compartment isn't exactly luxury it turns out to be comfortable enough.
3AC means you get a berth in an air conditioned coach with two sets of three tiers of bunks in each compartment. A double tier of berths also runs on the other side of the corridor along the length of the coach, and I find myself in one of those on the top bunk. It is a tight fit, and there is no window, but I can pull the curtain and have total privacy. The bunk below is occupied by an unsmiling fellow with slicked-back hair that has just a hint of henna and who has the air of a slightly impatient schoolteacher.
The first thing I notice is the number of people with really bad coughs. Delhi's air quality is notoriously dreadful, and it manifests itself noisily throughout the 23-hour, 1,800-km journey to the town of Balasore, my destination. On the plus side, Finnish State Railways take note: orders are taken early on for dinner, breakfast and lunch, all included in the modest fare of around 23 euros. The hole-in-the-floor toilet is kept clean throughout the trip, and the staff are happy to make my trip just that little bit more dangerous by letting me open the doors to let the air hit my face.
A constant procession along the corridor of train staff bearing trays of foil-wrapped meals precedes dinner. This comprises chicken curry, rice, dal, yogurt and roti bread. Perfectly edible if a little bland, and better than the breakfast of omelette and plain white bread with a few rubbery potato chips. This follows a relaxing sleep, disturbed by a tiger growl which I eventually realise is the 'teacher' starting to snore in the bunk below. I am also woken up by own call of nature – but cannot bring myself to haul myself down to ground level and make for the hole-in-the-floor facilities. So I resort to a little gadget presented to me by my wife, who sometimes brings home samples of such things from her work, called a Travel John. I have forgotten to take this little solution to sanitary emergencies with me before, but now I determine to put this ingenious convenience to the test. It passes. So do I, behind my drawn curtain, quickly and quietly, before heading back to the land of railway nod.
In my dreams, I am on a train from Helsinki to Lahti, which in actuality is an hour north of the Finnish capital. It's a freebie press trip of some kind, but it all goes wrong when the train heads back to Helsinki instead of letting the passengers alight at Lahti, which is where we have left our shoes. So we arrive shoeless in Helsinki. What can this mean?
In the morning I venture to the hole-in-the-floor, having no more Travel Johns at my immediate disposal. When I return I find that the unsmiling teacher has picked up my notebook and is surveying my (thankfully) illegible scribbles. This strikes me as incredibly cheeky, and I wag my finger at him, suddenly looking more like a teacher than he does. I am confident he cannot read my entry describing him as grumpy and snoring like a tiger. He's smiling now as I gently retrieve my notes. "Story?" he says. "Yes," I confirm. "Story."
The train chugs through the states of Bihar and West Bengal, passing the monstrous Tata steel works at Tata Nagar, the land scarred and pitted, the chimneys spouting thick grey smoke. I think of the number of times I've been jammed in endless unmoving lines of Tata trucks on various Indian highways.
As we enter Odisha and my destination approaches, one hour and twenty minutes later than scheduled, a camaraderie starts to develop among the remaining passengers. People start asking me friendly questions. Where am I from? Why am I going to Balasore? A portly man gets out a microphone and speakers and starts to croon.
And of course no trip in India would be complete without being exposed, as it were, to advertisements for the very latest "inner wear":
A friend was on the platform to greet me and take me to my hotel, the oasis in Balasore's desert known as the Hari Plaza. Looks like they're warming up for a wedding later in the week. To be continued…


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Chris Jones
Chris first discovered his passion for software development after playing adventure games in the 90's and wanting to make his own. He has 15 years of commercial software development experience, starting from the days of VB6 and C++, moving on to .NET in 2004, and in recent years having a particular focus on ASP.NET Web Development.
Pluralsight Courses
Beyond ASP.NET MVC: Modern Web Development Demystified
Beginner 1h 50m Jun 13, 2017


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Twas the morning before Game Day and all through FayettevilleNot a student was stirring, they were all camped outThe Aggies were coming, by car and by planeBut the Razorbacks knew they'd defend their name!
Before y'all gear up for tomorrow night's game, check out what else is going on with your @ArkRazorbacks&teams!
#ARKGNOMEHey Razorback fans! Want two tickets to Saturday's sold-out @RazorbackFB game against Texas A&M? Today is the day to win them!!
Thursday's Clue to find the #ArkGnome and tickets to Texas A&M football … I am lively, bold, and full of spirit … some even say "saucy."
– Arkansas Razorbacks (@ArkRazorbacks) September 26, 2013
@RazorbackFB&Practice ReportHead coach @BretBielema spoke with media Thursday after the University of Arkansas football team practiced. To read the practice recap, click here.
@RazorbackFB Delivers Pizza To StudentsThe @RazorbackFB&team delivered pizza to students camped out for tickets Thursday night. Check it out!
Good photo of @KieroSmall36 delivering pizza to students already camping out for Saturday's FB game. #NeverYield pic.twitter.com/oR5catEFt2
– Arkansas Razorbacks (@ArkRazorbacks) September 27, 2013
Texas A&M Game InformationThe @RazorbackFB team opens SEC play Saturday in front of a sellout crowd at Donald W. Reynolds Razorback Stadium in Fayetteville. Get all the information you need for the game, which starts at 6 p.m. and will air nationally on ESPN2,&here.
@RazorbackSoccer&Opens Road SEC Season&At Kentucky&@RaozrbackSoccer hits the road this weekend to face two ranked conference opponents in No. 14 Kentucky and No. 20 South Carolina. The match at Kentucky will start at 6:30 p.m. tonight. For more information on the week's matches, click here.
@RazorbackBSB Continues To ScrimmageThe White team rolled to a 10-4 win over Red in the first game of the new scrimmage series.&Bobby Wernes had three hits and drove in two runs, while Clark Eagan, Dominic Taccolini and Krisjon Wilkerson each had a pair of hits to lead White to victory. For more information on the series, click here.
White wins game 1 of the 2nd Red-White series with a 10-4 win on Thursday. Game 2 is tomorrow at 2 p.m.
– Razorback Baseball (@RazorbackBSB) September 26, 2013
@RazorbackVB Begins SEC Play With Mississippi Road TripThe Razorbacks begin conference play Friday at 7:30 p.m. against Ole Miss before heading to Starkville to close the weekend at 1 p.m. against Mississippi State. Arkansas carries a 7-4 record entering the conference season. For more information, click here.
#TBT The program's first-ever SEC win (Sept. 30, 1994) was a four-set victory against Ole Miss in Fayetteville. #WPS
– Razorback Volleyball (@RazorbackVB) September 26, 2013
@RazorbackMBB&Mini Plans On Sale NowRazorback basketball ticket mini plans are now available, with two package options featuring five games each. For more information, please click&here.
Mini Plans are on sale! Get your tickets to see the #Fastest40 & celebrate the 20th Anniversary of BWA!&#NeverYield&pic.twitter.com/erOfro9fKH
– Razorback Basketball (@RazorbackMBB)&September 26, 2013
@RazorbackMTEN Heads To The Naval Academy@RazorbackMTEN senior Christian Lee, redshirt freshman Jacob Herndon and true freshmen Johan den Toom and Juan Marino begin play at the Navy National All-Conference Invitational at 1 p.m. today. For more information on this weekend's events, click here.
Good luck to @RazorbackMTEN who go to Maryland and to @RazorbackWTEN who go to Colorado and California!
– Michael Nott (@MikeNott3) September 26, 2013
@RazorbackWTEN Travel To California And ColoradoThe Razorback women's tennis team will split in two for the second weekend as student-athletes head to the Colorado Invitational or Riviera/ITA All-American championships. For more information on these tournaments, click here.
Too ambiguous? Know exactly what coverage we're missing? Have a general question for the athletic department? Tell us. Shout at email@example.com with suggestions of what you would like to see covered and what the column is missing. Interaction is good. Think of this as your portal to all things Arkansas.


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Hagerstown drivers are being asked to watch where they park on Wednesday.
If clear skies and low winds prevail, a plane will fly low over the city on Wednesday to photograph utility markings in city streets, said Assistant City Engineer Rodney Tissue.
If the weather is bad, the plane will take off on the next clear day.
Since many of the utility markings are along curbs, Tissue is asking drivers not to park over the white markings, which pinpoint utility components such as manholes, water valves, inlets, telephone poles, fire hydrants, street lights and transformers.
The symbols are in the shape of X's, plus signs, circles, brackets and ribbons, among others.
The area to be aerially photographed includes the city and some Washington County neighborhoods served by the city's Water Pollution Control Department. The neighborhoods involved in the work include Brightwood Acres East, Londontowne and near Wesel Boulevard.


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If there's one thing we know here at Hoffman Honda, it's that our customers from West Simsbury, Hartford, Avon, and Farmington have a lot on their plates, and accordingly, they expect a lot from their next new Honda. If you're looking for the go-everywhere, do-anything sedan, you owe it to yourself to shortlist the sophisticated and stylish 2017 Honda Accord Sedan. It's expertly crafted with the driver in mind, but it doesn't skimp on those convenience features, creature comforts, and safety aspects that have become synonymous with the Honda brand.
The 2018 Honda Accord Sedan arrives on the scene with seven different trim levels sure to delight drivers of all kinds. Each impressive performance options and a graduating set of features practically minded drivers will certainly appreciate:
The midsize sedan market has a lot of options for you out there, but none so sweet as the 2018 Honda Accord Sedan. If you're looking for all this but two fewer doors, there's also a 2018 Honda Accord Coupe version to check out. If you're in the greater Hartford area and you're looking for a stylish, safe sedan with a spirited drive and plenty of tech offerings, we invite you to come see us in our West Simsbury, CT showroom and take the 2018 Honda Accord for a test drive.
Interested in a different Honda? Click a link below and find the Honda that fits your lifestyle.
With so many great new models to choose from, how can you be sure which Honda model is right for you? We suggest starting with a look around our inventory and sizing up each model. The Honda Accord has been getting some great feedback, and we understand why.
The Accord is available in the following trim styles: EX, EX-L, EX-L V-6, LX, Sport, and Touring. The Accord LX offers drivers 185 horsepower, 181 lb.-ft. of torque, a rearview camera standard, and a very respectable fuel economy rating. With the style and comfort you deserve in a sedan or coupe, the Accord also offers the new features which make your driving experience a bit easier.
Ready to take it for a test drive? Come in to see us at 40 Albany Turnpike in West Simsbury. Our staff at Hoffman Honda is here for each step of your buying process, and we want you to get the most out of your shopping experience. So come in and see why the Accord is an optimal choice for your life.
Prices shown are manufacturer suggested retail prices only and do not include taxes, license, or doc fee. Manufacturer vehicle accessory costs, labor and installation vary. Please contact us with any questions.
**Based on 2014 EPA mileage ratings. Use for comparison purposes only. Your mileage will vary depending on driving conditions, how you drive and maintain your vehicle, battery-pack age/condition and other factors.
For 2014 Honda Accord Plug-In Hybrid, 115 combined miles per gallon of gasoline-equivalent (MPGe) electric rating; 47 city/46 highway/46 combined MPG gasoline only rating. 13 mile maximum EV mode driving range rating. 570 mile combined gas-electric driving range rating. Based on 2014 EPA mileage and driving range ratings. Use for comparison purposes only. Your MPGe/MPG and driving range will vary depending on driving conditions, how you drive and maintain your vehicle, lithium-ion battery age/condition, and other factors. For additional information about EPA ratings, visit http://www.fueleconomy.gov/feg/label/learn-more-PHEV-label.shtml.


text: At 08:29 AM 5/21/2008, Robert G. Brown wrote: >On Wed, 21 May 2008, Eugen Leitl wrote: > >>On Wed, May 21, 2008 at 03:36:24PM +0100, Kozin, I (Igor) wrote: >>> >>>>b) Laptops. I'd REALLY like a flash-driven laptop. >>> >>>Who wouldn't? But what's the typical lifespan of flash memory? >> >>Current SSDs claim >1 Mh MTBF, largely due to wear-leveling. > >A Mh is, lessee, 100 years? So one failure per hundred systems per >year? Or if it is truly due to wear, perhaps it is zero failures per >hundred systems for 50 years, then an increasing failure rate out to >100+? > >If it is wear, however, lifetimes may depend on usage, and using it as a >root fs and/or home directory may significantly shorten lifetime. Actually, not a big deal. The wearout is with erases/writes, not reads. What they do is not use the same physical location for a given block. That is, when you read/change/write a block back, it gets written to a different location. There's a systematic way to keep all this straight, but the net result is that writes are evenly distributed across the device. Clever cacheing with delayed writes is another aspect of this. By the way, erases have to be done in blocks, but writes can be done in little bits, so a journalling filesystem is a typical way to do things with flash. (See, e.g., JFFS2 or YAFFS) Another significant feature of Flash RAM is that writes/erases are MUCH slower than reads (even for the NAND flash that everyone uses these days) But, still, blindingly fast compared to waiting for a disk to rotate under the read/write head, so you can keep stuff in a cache, and blast it out to the disk when you shutdown, before the power supply goes away. (Most power supplies, for instance, can hold up for 8 milliseconds.. that's an eternity when your write time is measured in nanoseconds)


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The theme for September's 2017 challenge is
with an optional twist of "WARM COLOURS"
Hosted by Jackie
The DTs Choice prize of the $10 Gift Voucher is applicable to all entries. Remember to link your projects in the linky below.
with an optional twist of "WARM COLOURS"
Hosted by Jackie
Hello everyone and thank you so much for looking in. Here at Digistamps4Joy it is my turn to host the blog challenge this month. As Autumn will soon be with us in the northern hemisphere I decided to stick our usual theme of Anything Goes with a twist for those of you who love a bit more of a challenge. The twist is use warm colours. I look forward to seeing your entries.
I have used Ula
I have used Ula
The challenge runs UNTIL 30 September 2017
Don't forget you MUST use a digital stamp or rubber stamp - no clipart please!
ANY of the digis in the Store are perfect for this twist!
Did you know that you can find any one easily by typing in a NAME into the SEARCH box?
Did you know that you can find any one easily by typing in a NAME into the SEARCH box?
Design Team A members have created these stunning cards to inspire you!
ALL the images used by the DT are available in the STORE
Carla (digistamp = "Flower pickin' Flo")
Desire (digistamp = "Misteri - pretty kitty")
Eva (digistamp = "Daisy corsage")
GranMargaret (digistamp = "Phantasi 1 (coloured)")
Tertia (digistamp = "Apple Annie")
Wilna (digistamp = "Butterfly Hydrangea")
As usual, fabulous inspiration from my team!
Enter your paper projects (maximum 3 entries per person, each from a separate blog post) in Mr Linky below. The top prize - DT's choice - is $10 worth of digis from the store. One randomly chosen winner will win 2 digis of your choice from the store. Three Top 3 picks chosen by our DT host member can display our Top 3 badge with pride.
Please remember to link your POST and not your blog to the Link tool below.
Also, you must create a link on your blog back to this challenge post!
(The challenge rules are HERE)
A special request
This is a child-friendly blog, so we will appreciate it if you do not post goth, demonic, or sex-related entries. These will be removed.


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Home Page Photos
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These are images which are displayed on the home page.
These are images which are displayed on the home page.
Avatar is an Atlas Van Lines Quality Focus Award winning agent who provides household moving services for Long Island, Suffolk County, Nassau County and New York City families, businesses and corporations within the United States, or across the world. Our staff consists of professional managers and service coordinators, experienced packers, and some of the most highly qualified drivers and movers in the relocation industry.


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Paros Poetry & Translation Symposium
Now in its 12th year, the Paros Poetry & Translation Symposium is an annual meeting of poets and translators in Greece. During morning sessions writers work together in shifting groupings to translate each other's work and that of others. Evening sessions include talks, conversations, readings and performances on all aspects of translation writ large.


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December 11, 2013
David Thomas
The Best Season To Buy a Home
If you have a deposit and are ready to buy, it is important to do your research before making a final purchase decision. Different seasons for example can have an impact on the availability of real estate. Furthermore, prices tend to fluctuate as the seasons change. Let's take a look at the general trends that characterise buying factors in each quarter of the year.
Buying In Spring
Spring is an optimistic period that can instil a desire for a fresh start as the chills of winter fade. Spring weather makes both house hunting and house moving easier. While this sounds ideal, spring can also be the hardest time to find a house at a good price, as there is a lot of competition from other potential buyers who are also on the hunt.
Buying In Summer
Hot and humid summer weather can make house hunting stressful. That said, summer in Australia is potentially a time of opportunity. As the Christmas and New Year break occurs across December and January, the real estate market typically slows, leading to lower prices. Coastal areas which are most popular during summer can however see their highest prices of the year.
Buying In Autumn
After the slow market of summer and the holiday period, autumn sees an increase in the range of houses available, as more sellers place their properties on the market. While there are more places to choose from, the increased activity in the sector can lead to stiff competition and higher prices.
Buying In Winter
Winter can be a season of slow activity in the housing market as uninviting weather encourages families and couples to remain indoors. This diminished market volume leads to a dip in housing prices off the back of the autumn season of high demand and high property quantities within the market.
Buying In Any Season
While the seasonal analysis information discussed above indicates that there are some differences when it comes to buying real estate, these are usually quite minor. The availability of homes, the number of buyers in the market and the number of real estate transactions per season fluctuate only slightly throughout the year.One positive of buying in the current market, regardless of the season, is the fact that interest rates are at an all-time low.
Preparing Yourself To Buy a Home
People who are looking to buy a home should evaluate their personal finances to make sure that they're ready for such a big decision. Getting finances in order and making sure that you qualify for a mortgage prior to making an offer is best practice. This allows you to move quickly when you're able to start shopping for a place to call home.
Saving up a substantial down payment shows that you have the dedication and motivation to make this significant purchase, and keeping the amount that you'll owe on a mortgage under control helps you budget your household expenses in the future.
If you're only buying a home because you urgently need a place to live, consider stepping back from the market and evaluating this decision further. It is advisable to find a place to rent whilst you more comprehensively assess the market and your living situation.
For more information that can help you decide on your direction, check out our Property Investment Tips.
If you're ready to take the plunge and wish to learn more about gaining assistance with securing a home loan, contact your local Mortgage Choice broker on 07 3286 7711.-


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An interesting pushback against the trend to make a loss because that way we really stuff it to the shareholders.
Month: February 2017
Increasing entropy
So an item is a file, may be a file within a file as I have a lot of VMs, but 20m things?
And that's just me.
I choose restart
My previous blog is a dasBlog install and good it was too. I gave up muttering a long time ago for reasons of grumpiness and reasons that cannot be named.
The original blog started as an experiment in how to try and deal with knowledge shock, future shock and just the general overwhelming information overload such that we forget what we knew yesterday.
It isn't just newsprint whose fate is to wrap tomorrow's fish and chips.
The experiment didn't work but it is still a topic that interests me in a non-tautalogical and non-toroidal way and here we are again.
I pondered importing the old blog content to here but the code for that rusts and sleeps in GitHub and do I have the time to brush the rust off?
Then I realised; why not just keep the old one and start a new one.
Then I hit issues that my hosting service was purchased in 2009 and it too has not kept up with the times but the nice folks at Netcetera have hacked their way to a solution and here we are.
You are welcome.


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Inspirational Graduate Assistant in Music, Henley-on-Thames
Closing date:
Contract type: Part Time
Contract term: Permanent
Suitable for NQTs: Yes
24 hours per week, possibility of private lessons and use of recording studio for personal use at week-ends.
This is a superb opportunity for an enthusiastic, dynamic and passionate music graduate to join our dynamic and innovative school, rated 'Excellent' in all ISI inspection categories. Our state-of-the-art, purpose-built Music Department has a professional standard recording studio, bespoke practice rooms and two large ensemble classrooms. There is also a Lecture Theatre housing a grand piano. Each classroom is fitted with a suite of iMacs running the latest music software.
Music plays an important part in the life of Shiplake College, which is proud to offer music for all. From Chamber Choir to Orchestra, Covers Band to Big Band and from our male a cappella group (The First Eight) to the Lower School Orchestra (in which every boy in Year 7 and 8 plays an orchestral instrument), there are high-quality musical opportunities available to all pupils.
The role would suit a recent music graduate with an interest in sharing their love of music in a collaborative and innovative way. The successful candidate will be excited and enthusiastic about teaching dynamic lessons to KS3 pupils, aimed at encouraging and ensuring inclusion of all pupils, whatever their ability. In addition, the successful candidate be heavily involved in music ensembles also undertake administrative duties for the music department.
An ability to inspire young musicians is paramount and non-negotiable.
The right candidate will answer 'Yes' to the following questions:
- Are you passionate about music and have a wish to share your knowledge of teaching and learning?
- Will students leave your lessons inspired, enthused and wanting more?
- Do you have high expectations of pupils, and the drive to help them achieve their potential?
- Ideally you will have experience of teaching KS3
- Would you enjoy working as part of a dynamic and professional team of teachers and support staff?
- Excellent communication and organisational skills, utilising the latest in Music Tech and Google Suite
Shiplake College provides the following:
- Exceptional education delivered by a dedicated team of teachers and support staff with first-rate resources.
- The opportunity to become involved with a busy and varied co-curricular programme available to students.
- A beautiful working environment located on the bank of the River Thames, free lunch and evening meal when on duty, contributory teachers' pension scheme, gym facilities and open-air swimming pool during summer months.
- Excellent peer support and professional development opportunities.
- Inclusive and thriving community spirit.
- Mentor and Buddy system in place for all new staff
- Accommodation on site (for selected staff).
Music graduates and NQTs are welcome to apply alongside those with more experience.
Informal pre-application discussions and visits are welcome; please call Moya Flynn on 01189 405218 or 07739 345171. A job/person specification and an application form may be obtained from www.shiplake.org.uk/vacancies
Closing date: applicants are encouraged to apply as soon as possible.
Shiplake College is an equal opportunity employer, committed to safeguarding and promoting the welfare of children and young people and expects all staff and volunteers to share this commitment. All posts at College are subject to an enhanced DBS disclosure check.
About Shiplake College
Shiplake College is an independent day and boarding school for boys aged 11-18 and girls aged 16-18, situated in 45 acres of beautiful Oxfordshire countryside, just 2.5 miles upstream from Henley-on-Thames. Shiplake offers an o...
Contact Shiplake College
Thanks for your interest in this role.
Simply fill in the form below to ask any questions, request a call, or schedule a school visit.
This field is required


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ABUJA, Jan 12 (Reuters) - Nigeria's state oil firm said on Friday the supply of gas had not been affected by an explosion the previous day on a major pipeline.
The Escarvos-Lagos Pipeline was hit by an explosion in the Warri region of Delta state, the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC) said on Thursday.
The pipeline supplies gas to plants producing about one-sixth of Nigeria's power, as well as the West Africa Gas Pipeline System. (Reporting by Paul Carsten; Editing by Mark Potter)


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See what questions
a doctor would ask.
Hyperkeratosis of the nails: Hyperkeratosis of the nails is an abnormal thickening of the skin of the nail bed under the fingernails or toenails. See detailed information below for a list of 3 causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails, Symptom Checker, including diseases and drug side effect causes.
» Review Causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails: Causes | Symptom Checker »
The following medical conditions are some of the possible
causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails.
There are likely to be other possible causes, so ask your doctor
about your symptoms.
See full list of 3 causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails
» Review Causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails: Causes | Symptom Checker »
Listed below are some combinations of symptoms associated with Hyperkeratosis of the nails, as listed in our database. Visit the Symptom Checker, to add and remove symptoms and research your condition.
See full list of 501 Symptom Checkers for Hyperkeratosis of the nails
Review further information on Hyperkeratosis of the nails Treatments.
Some of the comorbid or associated medical symptoms for Hyperkeratosis of the nails may include these symptoms:
See all associated comorbid symptoms for Hyperkeratosis of the nails
Research the causes of these more general types of symptom:
Research the causes of this symptom in broader categories:
Research the causes of related medical symptoms such as:
The list below shows some of the causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails mentioned in various sources:
See full list of 3 causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails
This information refers to the general prevalence and incidence of these diseases, not to how likely they are to be the actual cause of Hyperkeratosis of the nails. Of the 3 causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails that we have listed, we have the following prevalence/incidence information:
See the analysis of the prevalence of 3 causes of Hyperkeratosis of the nails
The following list of conditions have 'Hyperkeratosis of the nails' or similar listed as a symptom in our database. This computer-generated list may be inaccurate or incomplete. Always seek prompt professional medical advice about the cause of any symptom.
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Medical Conditions associated with Hyperkeratosis of the nails:
Nail symptoms (391 causes), Toenail Symptoms (302 causes), Fingernail Symptoms (302 causes), Finger symptoms (1615 causes), Toe symptoms (1171 causes), Hand symptoms (2016 causes), Limb symptoms (3592 causes), Foot symptoms (2265 causes), Leg symptoms (2751 causes), Lower leg symptoms (59 causes), Arm symptoms (1619 causes)
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Vegetarian Bible (Penguin Original)
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text:
She dreamed that she was flying.
But it wasn't like a regular flying dream – she wasn't flapping her arms or soaring along on her own power or anything: She was actually sitting in a cockpit and working the controls of a prop-driven airplane by herself. Her dream had started with her getting bored and taking flying lessons on a dare, and now here she found herself, working everything instinctively, even though the controls were so old-fashioned that they consisted of a stick and rudder bars – not even proper pedals. The cockpit only held one person, too – the instructor was sitting somewhere behind her, and for god-only-knew what reason he was dressed like a pilot from a vintage postcard, complete with goggles and leather helmet. She was still wearing her lanyard with her identification badge from work, too, although when she tried to read it it was in another language, and they had gotten her name wrong: It said Emil Werner.
Things were going swimmingly until she heard a distant chuk-chuk-chuk and the entire airplane shuddered under her hands. Bullet holes appeared in the aluminum siding around her, and then suddenly she wasn't in an enclosed airplane at all: She was in an old open-cockpit biplane, and she was alone, no more instructor or anyone. When she glanced over one shoulder there was a dark green airplane with circles painted on the sides coming back around for her, and in that way particular to dreams she slowly realized that she was being shot at. Instinctively she attempted to turn the aircraft on its side to peel away to the left – even while she vaguely wondered how she knew to do that – but it was moving at snail speed, whereas the other 'plane had already turned on a dime and was bearing down on her from behind. She could distantly see the gleam of sunlight on goggles from behind the twin machine-gun barrels pointing at her, and any minute now they would start spitting flames, and didn't they say that if you died in a dream you died in real life?
Somehow she managed to sideslip and shake him at the last minute, but he was already flipping nimbly to one side and trying to get on her tail again, so she decided to make it hard for him: Instead of waiting for him to come back around she kicked the left rudder as hard as she could and nosed forward, simultaneously yanking the control stick to the side. Her airplane was still moving like it was stuck in molasses, though, and when she glanced back over her shoulder he was already on her tail again –
Again, at the last possible minute, her own 'plane caught up with reality and suddenly whizzed into an impossibly tight left turn. Once she had built up enough speed she abruptly pulled the nose back and climbed into a great arcing turn that almost put her on her side – when she glanced over the side of the cockpit she could see a brown and cratered landscape thousands of feet below.
But before she had time to really contemplate the scenery she heard the distant teeth-rattling chatter of machine guns once more, and again the entire airplane shuddered under her hands as their bullets made contact. She tried yanking the controls to the right this time, then diving, then zigzagging back and forth, but damn, if the man wasn't tenacious – nothing she did seemed to shake him. Suddenly she felt the controls go sickeningly slack under her hands, and when she tried to kick the rudder as hard as she could, nothing happened. She began swearing loudly – she wasn't even sure if it was English; it sounded like she was dreaming in German again, which hadn't happened in a while – while she tried to fight the controls, but she could already feel herself diving, and the most she could do was try to control it by yanking the stick as hard as she could to one side or the other, doing her best to fight a spin.
While she was trying to make the best of her power glide she heard the guns rattling again, and suddenly blinding pain ripped up her left side and through her chest, and holy hell if it didn't feel real. Her arm went numb and fell off the controls, and when she tried to pick it up and force her hand back on the stick, it simply didn't respond. She gritted her teeth as a fresh wave of pain washed over her and she tried to remain conscious, but she could already feel the world blurring at the edges of her vision – and now she could hear the distant roar of machine guns again …
Amelia Werner bolted awake sweating to realize that her left arm really was burning with pain. She flailed around in half-conscious confusion for entirely too long before remembering that she actually had dislocated her shoulder in real life – at a roller derby bout – two nights before, and she had accidentally rolled over on it in her sleep just now. What a way to dream about it, though. Maybe she should stop watching history programs before she went to bed.
Wide awake now, she managed to roll over onto her other side and provide some relief to her injured shoulder, which continued to throb indignantly at her. She lay in bed trying to get her breathing under control for several more minutes before reaching over and grabbing her phone off the nightstand to check the time – four-fifteen a.m. Great. She only had about two more hours before she had to get up for work. Hopefully she could actually fall asleep again before then – and hopefully her dreams wouldn't be as terrifying this time around. She almost wouldn't mind if she dreamed about work at this point. Anything would be less terrifying than having some kind of aerial duel to the death.
Sleep didn't come right away, though, so she flopped onto her back – mindful of her injured side – and propped her head up on her good arm, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling fan that buzzed loudly overhead made some noise uncomfortably like her airplane's propeller in her dream; occasionally the motor caught and with a loud chuk-chuk-chuk before settling back into the same steady drone. After it did that for the second time she found herself sighing with something approaching relief even as she distantly realized that she would have to ask the landlord about fixing it at some point.
In the dim light from the street lamps peeking around her curtains she could just make out the four walls of her room – and now, with her heart just beginning to slow to its normal speed and sleep still eluding her, she found herself taking inventory of the strangely reassuring memorabilia that lined the walls. Across from her was the enormous Dropkick Murphys flag that she had hand-painted with one of her friends for a concert during high school; on the wall to her left was a large poster of the Clash's Combat Rock album cover. Next to that was an even larger one of Rancid that a different friend had gotten signed for her by Tim Armstrong. Her entire room was covered in band posters, actually, scattered between which were various set lists, ticket stubs, and other bits of ephemera that gradually gave way to roller derby bout posters and smaller hand fliers. Somewhere in there – there it was, she thought to herself: not that far from the Dropkick flag – she even had a picture of her crashing shoulder-first into an opposing jammer that her mother had (somewhat surprisingly, given her initial disapproval of derby) blown up and framed for her as a birthday present. Filling in the blank spaces were pictures from high school right up through college – although even in the dark she could still make out noticeable gaps that hinted at a deliberate removal of certain persons from her walls. At some point she might actually bother to fill those in.
Her scan of her bedroom complete, Amelia found herself rolling over onto her good side again and watching the blue light on her laptop blink for some indeterminate amount of time. She didn't even notice whenever she finally fell asleep again.
At six-fifteen on the dot her alarm went off, interrupting dreams that were forgotten as soon as her mind reemerged into consciousness and causing her to flail around for a good minute until she found the snooze, at which point she immediately went back to sleep. Exactly eight minutes later the alarm began shrieking again, and this time she stifled a groan and actually forced her eyes open as she rolled over and reached for it, shutting it off once and for all. After several minutes of talking herself out of bed, Amelia finally managed to force herself upright and swing her feet over the side and onto the floor. Time to face another Tuesday.
The first order of business was getting dressed and getting her arm back into its sling, which involved quite a bit of effort and several well-placed swears. Once that was accomplished she stumbled blearily down the hallway to the bathroom, and from there to the kitchen, where she stood in front of the pantry and debated breakfast with herself for entirely too long before finally settling on a bowl of cereal. While she was chowing down on that she put a kettle on to boil for her daily mug of hot tea.
After breakfast it was back to the bathroom to make herself look presentable, which luckily didn't take too much effort – since she showered at night all she had to do was wet her hair down to make it behave. Most of it had been cut off on a whim about a month before, anyway; what little was left in the back was buzzed down to about a three with a pair of hair clippers, and in the front all that remained were her front bangs, which reached down to about her eyebrows, and her side bangs, which stopped at her chin. As she brushed them into some semblance of order she couldn't help but remember how her mother had been suitably shocked whenever she dutifully sent her a picture via text. But even she had apparently warmed up to it, much as she had with derby – although not that Amelia had really consulted anyone or even bothered to ponder their possible opinions before doing it. It was her hair.
Once she had won the Battle of the Bangs she dragged herself back down to the living room and watched the news until seven-thirty; when the magic half-hour struck she laboriously slung her purse and lunch bag over her good shoulder, crammed a book and her music player into her bag, and shuffled outside to her car. Luckily driving one-handed wasn't too hard, she found herself musing as she backed out of her parking space, because her parents lived a state away and her roommate Kathleen never woke up before ten a.m. God only knew what time she would arrive if she had to wait for one of her derby friends to come pick her up; she would rather not think about it herself – so she cranked up the psychobilly on her radio while waiting for the apartment gate to all-too-slowly open before tearing out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
As she pulled onto the entrance ramp to the freeway she found herself performing the daily ritual of asking herself just how she had arrived at this place. She had been out of college for nearly a year now: the beginning of May, which was about two months away at the moment, would mark twelve months exactly – twelve long months of not putting her Bachelor of Arts in foreign language studies (specifically German), coupled with a double minor in philosophy/religious studies and earned summa cum laude, to any use whatsoever. She and Kathleen had graduated at the same time, actually, but where Kathleen had opted to work two part-time jobs so she would have the flexibility to spend time with her boyfriend, the responsible adult that lived somewhere deep within Amelia's brain had heard student loans beckoning. That was how she found herself becoming a full-time claims processor at the local branch of a national insurance company the following summer; and that was where she found herself now – with her life having slipped into some vague undefinable blur that didn't even have time for existential crises.
The worst part of it was that her job wasn't particularly terrible; if it were then she might have worked up the willpower to leave by now. It was just … unsatisfying. She knew that if she stuck around for long enough she could probably move up in the company, but if she were being honest with herself she knew that she didn't even want to do that. The larger problem seemed to be that she didn't even know exactly what she wanted to do anymore.
And other people were full of ideas for her. Her mother, for instance, had been pestering her to get her emergency teaching certification and teach German somewhere, but the town she lived in now was just too small to have any schools that taught German – it was Spanish or nothing – and she didn't particularly feel like moving back to Oklahoma to live with her parents and try to find a job there. Other people had suggested translating, and she had even kicked the idea around in her head a few times – but not only did she not even know where to begin with such a career, in the meantime her language skills grew rustier with each passing day. She wasn't even sure if she could put a coherent sentence together anymore. The only time that she really broke into German these days seemed to be when she was drinking, which provided a laugh at derby after-parties but probably didn't constitute real language practice.
She was still running through the same internal monologue when she turned into the office parking lot. After pulling into an empty parking space she heaved a particularly heavy sigh before throwing the lanyard with her identification badge around her neck, gathering up her things, and beginning the long walk to her desk.
Tuesday was the worst day of the week, she ruminated as she passed rows of empty cubicles and tried to avoid eye contact with her coworkers. On Tuesday she was more tired than she had been on Monday, but it wasn't even halfway through the week yet. Tuesday was always the day when she called some doctor's office with a simple question about a claim and had to speak to the one person there with a bug up their ass. Tuesday was the day when she had nothing more to look forward to than going home, cooking herself dinner, drinking her single nightly beer, watching some television, and going to bed early. The outlook was always bleaker on Tuesday.
Within a few minutes of awkward one-handed typing on number one in an endless stream of claims, an instant message window from her friend Amy – who worked on the customer service hotline and who skated on the derby team with her as "Anna Skarenina" – popped up and began blinking urgently in the upper left-hand corner of the page: Morning, Scarlotte. How's the shoulder today?
Hurts like hell, she typed back after a minute of contemplation, pecking out her answer right-handed, but I guess at least they managed to get it back into place.
She sometimes wondered if anyone bothered to read their chat transcripts. She knew they were saved, so she was careful what she wrote, but it would be entertaining to see the looks of confusion at her being called "Scarlotte": It was part of her derby name, and since she and Amy had met at derby, Amy tended to call her that in real life as well – Scarlotte being short for Scarlotte Brawnte. She had wanted Apocalypse Frau at first, but someone else had already registered the name with another league, and nobody that she talked to seemed to get it anyway. Scarlotte, at least, was slightly more recognizable.
She went back to working on her claim, knocking out a couple before Amy/Anna managed to reply, presumably between calls: I imagine! They're letting you work like that? You're still in a sling right now, aren't you?
Yeah, it's in a sling. I'm stuck in it for another week or two. But somehow I talked them into letting me work one-handed since it's not some life-threatening condition or anything.
Several more minutes passed between replies, during which time she kept soldiering on, finishing a couple more claims until her chat window began flashing again.
You're more devoted than I am. I would take the opportunity to take some vacation time. But I guess that's just me. They don't keep you chained to the phones for eight hours a day, so I guess Claims is slightly more bearable. :p
Yeah, she finally wrote back, but she had to think about it for several minutes. I guess.
They chatted off and on throughout the morning – successfully bringing her to her mid-morning break as painlessly as possible – and afterward they continued the conversation until lunch. Luckily they both had the same lunch hour today, so they ate together, talking about derby and dislocated shoulders and after-parties full of loud music and louder women. After lunch the chat conversation resumed until her afternoon break, and after that came the increasingly-rapid downhill slide into the end of the day – until suddenly she found that it was five o'clock, at which point she clocked out and logged off as quickly as possible to make the dash over to Anna's desk.
They walked out to the parking lot together, chatting some more, until they began to run out of topics for small talk. Whenever they finally arrived at their respective cars they bid each other good-night, "see you later!," and both went their separate ways.
The apartment was abandoned whenever she got home. Kathleen must be working late tonight – well, either that or she was out somewhere with The Boyfriend. Amelia realized vaguely that she should probably remember his name by now, but she could never seem to – it was something like Cody or Cory or Colby that was too similar to too many other names to be distinguishable. Kathleen had been dating him since before they graduated, making it a little over a year now, but she saw so little of the man that he was still just The Boyfriend in her mind. It probably didn't help that the two of them had started dating only a couple months after Amelia had broken off her last major relationship, when she was in no mood to hear anything about anyone's boyfriend, period. Maybe that was why she had blocked his name from her memory.
After throwing her things down on the kitchenette table she flopped down on the couch and surfed the Internet on her laptop for a while, grimacing to herself as she saw picture after picture of smiling brides and grainy ultrasounds from people she had once known. She didn't know why she even bothered to look anymore; most of the time it only served to remind her of her own hopeless drifting. And she had reminders enough of that, thank you very much.
There were pictures posted of the last derby after-party, too – unfortunately. They included one of her with her arm in a sling and a very large beer raised over her head. She thought about it for a minute before un-tagging her real name from it and just changing it to read "Scarlotte Brawnte." Even being twenty-three years old and a state away, there were some things that she didn't want her parents to know about her weekend life.
Eventually she dragged herself off the couch and talked herself into making dinner, which consisted of a bowl of instant macaroni and cheese tonight, given that she could only use one hand – not that she was any kind of gourmet chef whenever she had both arms available, but she was a passable cook most of the time. On nights like tonight, though, she had to make concessions to derby injuries, or – sometimes – just sheer tiredness.
She plodded back over to the couch, bowl in hand, once her dinner was done cooking in the microwave and began watching television again. There was nothing on, of course, but she found herself staring fixedly at it all the same. At some point during the commercials she found herself repeating her litany from earlier that morning: Is this really what I've done with myself?
By the time she went to bed at around eleven she was still alone – Kathleen hadn't come home yet. Lucky woman. She could stay out as late as she wanted. If Amelia wasn't in bed by eleven-thirty at the latest she could barely drag herself out of bed at six-fifteen to get ready for work.
So by eleven-fifteen she had already changed into pajamas and was watching television from bed; and not too long after that she finally put out the lights and went to sleep for good, distantly hoping that she had slightly less unsettling dreams tonight.
The next day was completely uneventful. Normally she had derby practice on Wednesdays to break up the mid-week monotony, but there was no point in her going tonight – she couldn't skate after having just injured her shoulder. Practice would probably be rather light anyway, since they had just played a game about three days before. She probably wasn't missing much there.
Thursday went about the same as Wednesday, except that when she came home and got on the Internet she saw that one of the male referees from their league – a guy named James who was roughly her age – had sent her an entirely-too-public message: Hey, Scarlotte! How's the shoulder? Didn't see you at practice last night and wondered how you were feeling.
She stared at it for a long moment, torn between indifference and – well, she wasn't really sure what. She was definitely flattered by the extra attention, but she wasn't entirely sure that she liked him as much as he seemed to like her. Not that there was anything wrong with him; they just didn't – click. Their personalities were too different.
Then again, she mused bitterly to herself as she debated whether to write back right away, maybe she had an unrealistic view of dating. She had only had – oh, maybe two serious boyfriends between high school and college, with a handful of random dates with various people scattered in between. And she had been absolutely smitten with both boyfriends, at least while the relationships lasted. It was entirely possible that that had given her unrealistic expectations of how dating was supposed to work – how was she supposed find out if she liked someone if she never gave them a chance? – but here she found herself all the same. She felt that her life was too much of a mess right now to give even casual dating a try.
After several minutes of thought she finally reached some conclusion in her inner debate and wrote him back: Oh, it's fine. It hurts when I accidentally roll over on it in my sleep, but other than having to wear a sling for a couple weeks, it's survivable. Thanks for asking though!
She almost began to write And how are you doing? after that, but she stopped herself halfway through and deleted it, stopping the message after "though." She was trying to strike a balance between polite friendliness – the man was still a friend, crush or no crush – but without inviting him to start a never-ending back-and-forth posting spree.
She was still debating how well she had handled that whenever her phone began to ring. After glancing down apprehensively to see who it was, she breathed an audible sigh of relief when she realized that it was her mother calling. She scrambled with the remote to put the television on mute before answering it.
"Hey, Mom," she said, and from the distance of a couple hundred miles her mother answered: "Hey, Amelia. How was your day today?"
"Oh, same old, same old. Just another Thursday. How about you?"
"About the same. Thanks for asking."
"No problem."
"How's work going?"
"About as well as it can, given the circumstances," she replied, and after a second she thought to clarify: "I don't know if you saw the pictures online, but I hurt my left arm at my last game on Saturday. Nothing serious, although my doctor wanted me to keep it in a sling for a bit until it healed a hundred percent. Makes processing claims a bit difficult, but I've managed."
"Amelia. What did you do? Are you okay?" her mother asked, trying to hide the worry in her voice – and failing, Amelia mused somewhat grimly. She knew that tone entirely too well.
"Oh, it's not a big deal. I just got knocked out of bounds and fell weird and landed on my left shoulder. It's fine now. The doctor just put me in a sling for a couple weeks to make sure I don't re-injure it before it's completely healed."
"And did they say anything about it at work?"
"No, not really. I mean, they told me I could take a week off if I wanted to, but I didn't really feel like it." She almost shrugged one-shouldered for emphasis but caught herself at about the point that she remembered her mother couldn't actually see her.
"Well, I know you like roller derby and all, but you have some responsibilities to your job now, too. That's part of being an adult."
"Yeah," she finally replied, but it took her a second. "I know."
"So aside from getting knocked around and having to process claims with one hand, how is everything else going?" her mom joked at the other end of the line, and she had to think for a minute before finally replying, "Okay, I guess."
After another brief pause she added, "All the days kinda run together, honestly."
"Welcome to adult life, daughter of mine. You can't say we didn't warn you about it."
"Yeah, I remember," she said. "It's just one of those things that you have to experience for yourself to fully understand, I guess."
"Hmm, that sounds familiar. I think some wise old people who call themselves your parents might have said that before, too."
"Alright, okay, I'll admit it. You two might have been right about that," she said, feigning exasperation. When her mother laughed on the other end of the line it elicited a faint smile from her.
"I hope somebody's recording this conversation so that I can play that back for future generations. It's a great moment in a parent's life when their kid admits 'you might have been right about something.'"
"Hey, don't get too excited just yet," she rejoined. "I said might."
"'Might' is better than nothing. I'll take it."
She really did laugh at that, making her realize that much as she liked her adult independence, she still missed her parents sometimes. Maybe it was about time she took a Friday off and drove up to Prague to visit them. It would be her mother's birthday soon, anyway – it was on April the fourth. She was about overdue for a trip to Oklahoma.
"Hey, Mom," she asked abruptly, and her mother replied, "Hey, Amelia. What?"
"Are y'all going to be in town the weekend before your birthday? I might come visit you. It's been a while since I've been home."
"Well, I imagine we can be," her mom replied. "We don't have any plans that I'm aware of. That would be fine. You can come stay at home and say hello to all the cats."
"And the dogs, too," she scoffed playfully in response. Her mom made some thoughtful noise – Amelia could almost picture her waving one hand dismissively – before finally saying, "Eh, the dogs too, I suppose. Although you've always known that your dad is the dog person."
"I guess I just got the best of both worlds, then."
"Careful now, you don't want to get a big head," her mother teased in response. And Amelia laughed at that, because she could just picture her mom's expression right now. All of a sudden visiting home seemed like the best idea she had had in a while.
"Well, I guess I'll get that Friday before off and drive up there," she finished at last.
"I'll make a note to slaughter the fattened calf. The prodigal daughter, returning at last."
"Oh, you and dad are just flatterers," she returned easily, grinning the entire time. After a minute she asked: "Hey, have you heard about what's-her-name? Kaylee Springer's sister, I went to school with her …"
And then the conversation was galloping in a different direction once again. After that they talked about everything and nothing – the conversation pretty much followed their streams of consciousness, really – for another half an hour or so, until her mom said, "Oh, crap. I think I hear the cats fighting out on the front porch. I'm gonna have to let you go for now."
"Alright, Mom. I'll talk to you in a bit, once I have that day off for sure."
"Okay. Love you."
"Love you too."
She sat and stared at her phone for a minute after the call disconnected before finally putting it away. She would have to write a note to herself that she would see on her way to work tomorrow: Ask off on the Friday before Mom's birthday. Honestly, she should probably write it on a sticky note and attach it to the back of the door or something …
She settled for writing it on her hand after she took a shower and hoping it would still be there in the morning. That was probably her best bet.
At eleven-fifteen she crawled into bed, careful not to fall asleep with her face in her written-upon hand – wouldn't that just be great – and finally passed out sometime in the next twenty minutes or so.
It seemed like only a few minutes of a dream about getting lost in a foreign country (complete with a helpful, and maybe even cute, young man trying to offer directions in lightly-accented English) had passed before Amelia abruptly awoke to her alarm screeching in her ear. As always she somehow managed to find the snooze and fall asleep for another eight minutes exactly before being shaken from her sleep once again – although the second time around she remembered that it was Friday, at least, and all she had to do was make it through today to arrive at the weekend. That thought alone was enough to force her upright and out of bed and give her the energy to get dressed, work her injured arm back into its sling, and drag herself down the hallway to the bathroom.
Work, thankfully, passed quickly, and at least she had something to look forward to tonight: They had some derby appearance or another at a bar – always a good excuse to get out of the empty apartment. So on her way out of work she and Anna worked out a schedule whereby Anna would come pick her up at seven-ish and they would go together – and then one or the other could pretend that they needed to get back early if they needed to bail before the bar closed. It was a good arrangement all around.
When she got home she managed to change herself into something suitably derby-esque – well, really just her jersey with a pair of jeans, but it showed enough tattoos to make her look tough or something – and then sat around on the couch watching television until the doorbell rang. Kathleen was nowhere to be found. For a minute she wondered if that might be her returning, but then she remembered that she had actually been waiting for someone, and when she finally got up and answered the door she found Anna on the doorstep.
"Ready to go?" she asked, and Amelia shrugged one-shouldered in response.
"Reckon so. Let's do this thing."
Anna waited for her to flip the porch light on and lock the door behind her before the two of them headed over to her car. Amelia flopped lazily into the passenger seat and attempted to arrange the seat belt so that it wasn't hitting her bad arm as Anna backed out of the parking space and began driving towards the exit. As they were sitting there, waiting for the gate to open, Anna asked, "So how's the shoulder now?"
"Eh. Still hurts, though not as much as it did at the beginning of the week. My problem is that I keep accidentally rolling over on it in my sleep."
"Gotta love derby injuries," she replied, putting her blinker on and turning right out of the parking lot. Amelia glanced sideways at her and asked, "Have you broken anything yet?"
"Nope. Knock on wood," she replied, rapping on the completely-not-wood door panel of her car. "You be careful about jinxing me, though. Somebody rolled my ankle pretty well in that last game. Scared me when it happened."
"Lots of injuries in that last game," she mused in in reply, half to herself, as she turned to stare out the window. In addition to her shoulder – which had probably been the worst injury of the night – there had been several rolled ankles, two re-injured knees, and a mild concussion between both teams. Fun stuff. She never bothered to tell her parents about that because she already knew how much they worried, but to the players it was just a matter of course: One took time off to heal and then started skating again as soon as possible.
"Hey, so – different subject now. What's up with you and James? I always see him buzzing around you like a lovelorn fly. Is there something going on there?" Anna asked abruptly. That earned her something approaching a Look, but she just smiled back in response without taking her eyes from the road. Amelia made a face at her for a full half a minute before finally replying, "Well, I guess there could be, if I wanted there to. But I'm not really interested in him as more than a friend."
"Pshh, interested. Who needs to be interested? You need to get some action while the gettin's good."
That definitely did earn her a Look. When she glanced over and saw Amelia trying to bore a hole through her with her eyes, she protested, "What? It's true."
"Really?" Amelia deadpanned. Anna shrugged.
"I'm just sayin'. You haven't seen anyone – that I know of, anyway – since you broke up with what's-his-face back before I met you."
"Daniel. And let's not speak his name in my presence," she grumbled in reply, abruptly looking back out the passenger window. It didn't matter that she didn't really have feelings for him anymore – even hearing the name brought back a whole host of still-painful memories. Never mind that they had broken up more than a year before. Who knew, maybe she needed another year before she stopped caring completely.
"Anyway, in my defense, I wasted three years of my life on that man. It's hard to just pick up and find somebody new again," she added moodily, almost in afterthought. She was still staring fixedly at the city scenery sliding past whenever Anna replied, "No, it's not. Just get sloppy drunk and find somebody cute. You're on birth control, right?"
"Amy. Really?" she snapped, maybe a little more harshly than she intended, but her friend just laughed.
"Okay, okay, so maybe you're not into that. In that case, I probably have some single male friends that I could set you up with who would at least buy you dinner first."
"Well then. I suppose that might be alright," she replied sarcastically. Again Anna only grinned.
"Good grief, you need to lighten up. Maybe you should just let me set up you with somebody. You need to freakin' relax."
"Yes, well, on that front I haven't gotten laid since before I broke up with that asshat, so that's probably overdue," she shot back. "Except that I have this whole fear-of-strangers thing. Comes from getting stalked by countless strangers who apparently had a thing for the cashiers in my department store."
"Oh, yeah. You told me about that."
"Yeah," she snorted in reply, half to herself. "I don't know why life never throws any halfway normal men my way."
"And right when you think you get a normal one, you snatch them up as quick as possible – and then after two months of living together you find out that he pees in the bathroom sink and plays video games for over eight hours a day," Anna shot back dryly. That was enough to make Amelia crack a grin.
"Hey, though – I had this dream last night that I met somebody when I was lost in another country. Might've been Germany, they were all speaking German. Anyway – hey, no, it wasn't that kind of a dream," she protested as Anna shot her a sly sidelong glance. "I was just going to say, it was like my brain made up somebody for me to have a crush on. Kinda sad, because then I had to wake up. And it just made me realize that there's nobody right now that I feel that way toward."
"Kinda bittersweet then, huh?"
"Yeah. Kinda."
The conversation quietly died away; Amelia sighed and turned back around to glance out the passenger window again. Neither of them said anything.
"Hey, so, you gotta help me out if anyone super awkward is hitting on me," she resumed as the scenery began to hint that they were arriving at their destination, turning back around to glance at Anna again. "Like, if I'm trying to friend-zone James and he isn't getting the hint, you need to come rescue me."
"Same goes for you. Right?"
"Yeah, well, one of us in this car has a boyfriend. Usually mentioning that in casual conversation gets the point across."
"Has, might be had soon, god only knows. You just promise that you'll rescue me from any creepy bros or dirty old men who won't leave me alone."
"Done. I promise."
"Alright then. I promise too."
And she glanced over at Amelia, half laughing.
"We girls gotta stick together," she finished.
A few seconds later they were pulling into the driveway of the bar. There was already a pretty sizable crowd in here tonight – maybe she would get lucky and score some free drinks without having to get hit on too much. Every now and then someone got epically drunk and started buying rounds for the entire team. She had her fingers crossed that tonight would be one of those nights.
As soon as they stepped inside they were greeted by a mixed chorus of "Scarlotte!" and "Anna!" They paused to order drinks at the bar – something suitably cocktail-y for Anna and a pitcher of beer for herself – before dragging themselves over to the corner where half the team was already sitting in various groups. No James for now, she noticed, somewhat satisfied. He might turn up later, but at this point she could have a bit of girl time before the menfolk started showing up.
As she and Anna settled onto stools and began working on their drinks, somebody piped up, "Holy hell, woman. Are you really going to drink that entire thing by yourself?"
"Hey. Easy now. I got a designated driver," she shot back playfully, nodding towards Anna. "I can get as sloppy as I want. Maybe if you're lucky I'll give you a theology lecture in German later."
The people who were around them half-listening cracked up at that, and someone else added, "Only you, Scarlotte."
"Damn straight. And you better remember it too."
And with that the night began. Mostly she sat around and talked to Anna about everything and nothing; having a regular face-to-face conversation with her was far different from the ones they usually had at work, and it was a welcome change. Other people came and went, some sticking around longer than others, and occasionally she even had complete strangers come up and introduce themselves because they were interested in meeting the derby team – which was really the point of the evening, she mused distantly after about beer number three. She tried to talk some of the women she met into joining derby, but most of them just laughed and made excuses about not being tough enough for the sport. She just shrugged one-shouldered – like always – and replied that she hadn't been either until she started playing, which usually earned more laughs. She was only half joking, but they wouldn't know that until (unless?) they actually started playing themselves. Oh, well.
Eventually more people showed up, until finally damn near the whole team – including referees, coaches, non-skating officials and other general hangers-on – were crowded back into their corner of the bar. At one point somebody even put the Clash on the jukebox, and she slammed her good down on the table and exclaimed something along the lines of "now that's what I'm talking about!", before turning to the closest person and offering a lecture on the Clash tattoo on her left shoulder. That was about when she had killed off pitcher number one, as far as she could remember. The night began to blur together after that.
Sometime about halfway through pitcher number two – as she was treating a far-more-sober Anna to a lecture on Christian Universalism – she heard a voice break in with, "Hey, Scarlotte! How's the shoulder treating you?"
She glanced up entirely too slowly to see James's smiling face perched on a bar stool opposite her, apparently having just sat down. She worked up a smile in response – she didn't hate him; the man was still a friend, as long as he got the message – before answering, "Y'know, the rest of the time it kinda still hurts, but at this point I've rather stopped caring. How are you doing?"
"Oh, alright. Same old, same old. Just glad it's the weekend."
"Too true," she managed after a minute, followed closely by, "Und ist es nicht verdammt … wunderschön!"
At that she buried her face in her good arm and laughed hysterically for a full half a minute. When she looked back up Anna and James were shooting each other twin meaningful looks and smiling entirely too broadly at her.
"Something funny?" she challenged, feigning belligerence, before breaking into a fit of giggles again. Anna waited a minute before replying, "Maybe you should slow down, Scarlotte. You've started speaking German again."
"First it was the theology lecture, und jetzt schalte ich Sprachen. Gonna be an interesting evening for you two. Maybe you'll learn something."
"It's okay, I'm the sober one tonight," Anna cracked, glancing over at James. "I've only had one drink, and that's probably all I'll have. Some of us don't like waking up hungover."
That was directed toward her, Amelia was pretty sure, but it took her a second to catch up with it. She paused briefly to kill off her glass of beer and began pouring herself another one before thinking to continue, "Hey, in my defense, I put up with ten kinds of bullshit during the week. The weekend is my time to unwind."
"Lucky for you I'm here to make sure you get home in one piece."
"Much appreciated," Amelia shot back as she laughed for emphasis.
The conversation died down for a minute or two afterward, long enough to give her time to work on her drink some more. Finally – after having some time to think, she reasoned distantly – James ventured, "So what else are you doing this weekend, aside from getting viking-drunk tonight?"
"Nothing. Probably just going to crawl around my apartment hungover as shit tomorrow, then spend Sunday trying to recover from that," she scoffed, cradling her face in her good hand.
As soon as she said it, some panic switch flipped in her brain: She distantly recalled that every time she told James that she wasn't busy, he followed up with an offer to go on a date. For what felt like a full minute her mind raced in circles as she tried to think of some way to retract what she had said, but after entirely too long James just smiled and replied, "Sounds like a plan. If you get bored I'm always down to hang out, but I bet you'll probably be busy trying to recover all weekend."
"Oh yeah. You're definitely right about that, good sir."
She somehow managed to contain the relieved sigh that tried to force its way out of her mouth and settled on an inward one instead: Bullet successfully dodged.
"So how do you feel about the next game coming up?" James started after that, to both of them and neither in particular, and after that the conversation switched to derby. She could barely remember when the next game was – she had been too focused on the last one – but Anna did, and once she jogged Amelia's memory the three of them were going at lightning speed on stats and stories and conjecture, and it was not a bad conversation. Maybe she should give the man a chance at some point, she even mused distantly, while he and Anna were engrossed in conversation. He wasn't too bad.
Eventually she made it all the way through pitcher number two, and then things began to get really interesting – too bad she couldn't remember them. She played a bunch of old-school seventies punk on the jukebox, tried to talk to people in German, gave more lectures on more subjects than she could even try to remember … and she only knew that later because Anna told her. Apparently she was mightily entertaining to their corner of the room. And James wasn't even annoyingly clingy, as far as she could recall: He was fun to talk to and didn't even cling to her like a lovesick barnacle all night. All in all, it was a good night.
Sometime in the small hours of the morning – it might have been after last call; time was running together too much for her to tell – Anna glanced down at the clock on her cell phone and then back at her, then finally announced, "Well, I imagine it's about that time. You ready to split?"
"Yeah, sure. Lemme think. Ah …"
She stared contemplatively at her empty glass for a very long moment before finally finishing, "Yeah, I think I'm done. Have I paid my tab?"
"You didn't start a tab tonight. It's been cash the whole time."
"Ah, great. Verdammt … wunderbar. Do I have everything?"
"Phone's on the table. As far as I know, everything else is in your purse."
"You're a good friend, Anna," she announced loudly as she grabbed her cell phone from the table and stuffed it into the hand-knit purse slung over one shoulder. She managed to push herself into an upright position from her stool before broadcasting to their corner of the room, "Hey! We're leaving. See you crazy bitches at practice on Sunday."
"Are you two really leaving already?"
"Who you calling a crazy bitch? You looked in a mirror lately?"
"You two drive safe!"
"Sleep on your side!"
There were plenty more responses, but – drunk as she was – she could only pick out the ones closest to her. Everyone in their corner was treated to a series of ridiculous faces in reply, enough that she was treated to a chorus of laughs as she and Anna made the rounds and said their good-byes for the night. Somehow Anna finally managed to drag her outside and back to the car – successfully parrying her attempts to pester strangers for cigarettes that she couldn't give up a month's hard work of not smoking – and before she was really aware of it she found herself seated in the car, automatically buckling her seatbelt. About as soon as she realized it she also noticed that her head had immediately rolled back against the door post as her eyes tried their damnedest to close.
The drive home was a barely-recognized series of blurs streaming past her window. She was pretty sure she talked to Anna at least part of the way, but she couldn't recall exactly what was said – she was way too far gone for that. She barely recognized the apartment when they pulled up to the gate, and even then she only realized where they were because Anna had to ask her for the code (which she spit out in German before remembering to translate into English).
Before she knew it they were parked and Anna had walked over to her side of the car to retrieve her – at this point Amelia could barely walk on her own. After several minutes of awkward fumbling she finally had to give her keys to her friend to unlock the front door.
Anna waited around long enough for Amelia to lurch down to her bedroom before asking, "You think you got it from here?"
"Think so, madam. Thanks for the ride and all. I had a great night."
"No problem. Now you get some rest and make sure you don't fall asleep on your back. I'll talk to you later."
"'Night, lady."
"Good night."
She collapsed onto bed and closed her eyes for just a second – and when she opened them again Anna was gone. She barely managed to stumble down the hallway to the front door to make sure it was locked before dragging herself back into her room and flopping, full-length and fully-clothed, into bed once again Before she had time to further contemplate the events of the evening she was fast asleep.


text:
goat marketing made simple: the right goat, at the right weight,
on the right day, slaughtered the right way
One farmer's discoveries on filling
a cultural niche with food, and managing the expectations
that come attached.
By Sandra K. Miller
Ethnic Holidays
Here is a rundown of holidays on which goat
is traditionally consumed and the type of goats
customers look for.
• Roman and Greek Christian holidays are
a week apart (date varies in spring)
• Fleshy kids between 20 and 50 pounds
• Milk-fed
• Greeks prefer kids slightly larger and
• Jewish holiday (date varies in spring)
• 25 to 50 pounds
• Milk-fed and fat
Rosh Hashanah
• Jewish holiday (date varies in fall)
• 50 to 100 pounds
Cinco de Mayo
• Mexican Independence Day (May 5)
• 18 to 40 pounds live weight
• Milk-fed kid
• Goat is also served at baptismal dinners
Navadurgara (also called Navratra
Dashara or Dassai)
• Hindu holiday honoring the goddess Durga
(date varies in fall)
• Male goats only
• Size depends on the number of people being
Id al-Fitr (Feast of the Fast
Breaking signaling the end of Ramadan)
• Month-long fast practiced by Muslims (date
varies according Islamic calendar and the new
• Male goats
• 50 to 80 pounds live weight
Id al-Adha (Feast of the Sacrifice)
• Muslim holiday follows Id al-Fitr by 70
• Unblemished, fully intact male goats
• 60 to 100 pounds live weight
• Numerous ethnic groups
• 20 to 45 pounds live weight
• Milk-fed kid
Chinese New Year
• Occurs according to the Chinese calendar,
usually in either January or February
• 60 to 80 pounds live weight
Caribbean Holidays
• Several Caribbean holidays occur during
the month of August
• Large, smelly bucks preferred
Spiced Goat
(Serves 4)
1. Preheat the oven to 325°F.
2. Heat the oil in a large casserole, add the
onions and garlic and sauté until softened.
3. Add the goat and brown on all sides.
4. Add the spices, mix well and cook for 1 minute.
5. Add the potatoes, raisins, thyme, vinegar
and tomatoes. Season well and add stock.
6. Bring to a boil, mixing well then cover. Transfer
to the oven and cook for at least 1-1/4 hours.
7. When the potatoes and meat are very tender,
add the spinach. Mix well until the spinach has
just wilted and serve immediately.
For more information
To purchase the Halal poster from the Sheep &
Goat Marketing Program mentioned in the story
marketing.info) contact:
Northern states
Tatiana Stanton
Mid-Atlantic states
Susan Schoenian at
The posters are not laminated and cost $10 each.
June 8, 2006: Within our country, the debate
against immigration has been raging. Newscasters put the population
of people in America under less-than-legal-conditions in the
millions. Long referred to as a "melting pot,"
this nation has been a land of immigrants since it's
founding over 200 years ago.
Throughout the years, people from every country, cultural
group and religion have come to America searching for a better
life, many of them escaping poverty, war-torn homelands, political
and religious persecution. Despite the adoption of a new language
and the nuances of day-to-day life, immigrants often hold
fast to their culinary traditions. As ethnic populations swell,
their foods are often embraced within the internationalizing
U.S. menu.
Granted, most foreign foods have been Americanized to appeal
to the masses, but in ethnic homes authenticity remains a
priority, especially for holidays and special occasions.
It's estimated that 80 percent of the world's
population eats goat as a staple in their diet. My marketing
plan has always been simple—if someone has a foreign
accent, chances are they eat goat meat.
Sustainable farmers are finding that creating niche markets
aimed at ethic populations offers not only a steady stream
of customers, but ones who are grateful for the ability to
carry on their cultural and religious traditions that are
wrapped around food. An added positive aspect of this trend
for domestic meat goat producers is that ethnic consumers
are willing to pay more for locally grown fresh meat than
for frozen, imported meat, according to the Agriculture Utilization
Research Institute.
Kim T. Gordon, author of Bringing
Home the Business and a marketing coach, lists the three
cardinal rules for niche marketing: Test the market, meet
your customers' unique needs and speak in terms your
customers can understand. Regardless of whether you're marketing
goat or other products, farmers heeding Gordon's advice
can develop a strong and devoted customer base.
Test the market
Although goat is the most consumed meat throughout the world,
the USDA only lists milk, broilers, cattle, hogs, calves,
eggs and turkeys on its agricultural commodities roster. On
the weekly auction reports, goats are often lumped in with
An estimated 500,000 goat carcasses were imported into the
U.S. in 2004 to meet rising demand for goat meat. Over the
past seven years, goat meat imports have jumped 140 percent.
Richard Machen, professor and livestock specialist at Agricultural
Research and Extension Center at Texas A & M University,
estimates there are 35 million foreign-born residents in the
United States from countries in which goat is routinely eaten.
Despite a considerable existing and potential market, developing
an ethnic niche market still presents unique challenges and
requires that farmers do their homework.
Even before you sell the first goat, start examining the
local market. The best place to begin is by attending local
livestock auctions. For example, the New Holland Livestock
Market moves the majority of goats destined for slaughter
on the East Coast—as many as 2,600 the week prior to
Easter and 1,800 during the month of Ramadan, a major Muslim
holiday. By attending an auction during peak sales, producers
can get not only a feel for the price of goats, but also the
size and quality for which buyers pay the best price. Once
you've actually seen which types of goats bring the
best price, it's relatively easy to follow the market
through the USDA reports readily available online and published
by numerous agricultural weeklies.
Many people who get into meat goat production believe that
high consumer demand means they will receive a premium price
at auction—not true. The majority of goats purchased
at regional auctions do not go directly to customers, but
to middlemen and packinghouses. Often, animals exchange hands
several times before the final cut reaches the consumer, each
time adding on more profit margin to create a premium price
in the end.
Better goats support direct markets
Only in the past 10 years has the practice of raising goats
bred specifically for meat emerged. Prior to that time, goats
destined for the meat market were primarily a by-product from
goat dairies. However, the business model of raising and marketing
meat-type goats similar to dairy goats and selling them through
auction initially disappointed many early meat-goat producers.
For small- to medium-sized producers, the profit margin was
low. To increase the bottom line, meat goat producers have
turned to direct marketing and on-farm sales targeted at ethic
The demographic for my rural community in south-central Pennsylvania
is 98 percent Caucasian, mostly conservative Christians—not
exactly a haven for cultural diversity. But by taking a map
and drawing a circle representing a two-hour drive radius,
several major cities appeared. Using a telephone book and/or
the Internet, it's not too difficult to check out the
ethnic restaurants, markets, churches and mosques. If these
places are present in your marketing radius, you have potential
customers for direct marketing and on-farm sales.
It only takes one satisfied customer to spread the word,
but as a producer you need to continually promote yourself.
The tactic that has worked the best for me has been to keep
a good supply of business cards on hand. Don't be afraid
to talk to people you don't know or who speak broken
English. Word-of-mouth advertising includes your own mouth.
When going out to eat at local family-owned restaurants,
introduce yourself. Several of my customers are Italian immigrants
who own pizza shops. The good news for me is that the food
they cook at home is far different from what is on their restaurant
Know your customers' needs
The next step in ethnic marketing is to meet your customers'
needs. To do this it is imperative to educate yourself about
the groups to which you plan to sell goats. If you are going
to work with the Muslim community, it helps to understand
the basics of Islam. At first, many people from traditional
Christian backgrounds fear this step. Just remember that Christianity,
Judaism and Islam all came out of the Middle East, so many
of the traditions and stories are quite similar.
Ramadan is well known to many non-Muslims. It is months of
fasting, meaning followers do not eat or drink between sunrise
and sunset. The fast is ended with a three-day holiday called
Id-al-Fitr, Feast of the Fast Breaking (commonly known as
Eid). This occurs when the new moon is sighted signaling the
beginning of the new month, Shawwal. This year, Eid will fall
on October 24.
Many producers with a limited knowledge of Islam often sell
all their goats for Ramadan, missing another important opportunity.
Approximately 70 days after Ramadan falls the second Eid—Id
al-Adha (Festival of the Sacrifice), which represents the
Prophet Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his son,
Ishmael to Allah. Muslims in India and Pakistan also refer
to this holiday as "Goat Eid" as it is traditional
to slaughter a goat and give a third of the meat to the poor.
Similar to the Semitic and Christian teachings of Abraham
to whom God sent an unblemished ram for sacrifice instead
of his son, Isaac, Muslims seek out fully intact animals with
testicles and horns for this holiday. Some even consider an
ear tag as a blemish. Weights for premium Eid goats fall in
the range of 50-80 pounds, live weight.
Similar to the Hispanic tradition of serving goat at a child's
baptismal, Muslims also slaughter a goat to honor the birth
and naming of children.
Holy day niche issues
There are a number of advantages and disadvantages that
go with raising animals to meet this particular niche. No
disbudding, castrating and ear tagging represent obvious savings
in both time and money to the producer, but there are trade-offs.
Keeping a number of intact males for 6 to 9 months requires
better fencing, caution with aggressive behavior (leading
to possibe blemishes from broken horns and gashes) and, of
course, that fragrant musky odor.
A growing trend with direct marketing and on-farm sales to
Muslims is allowing slaughter on the premises to fulfill Halal
requirements. Halal food is defined by the laws of Islam and
is very similar to the Jewish kosher laws regarding slaughter.
For animals to be considered Halal, they must be humanely
treated prior to slaughter, have their heads turned to the
east, toward Mecca, and a prayer spoken while a very sharp
knife is used to cut the throat.
"This is so important for me to be able to do this,"
said Omar Taghe, a native Moroccan and Muslim who purchases
from a farmer who allows on-farm slaughtering.
Allowing on-farm slaughtering is not for everyone. For producers
comfortable enough to allow the practice, access to water
and a method to hang the animal must be provided. Farmers
catering to customers who want to do their own butchering
also provide additional services such as tables, electricity
and disposal of the offal. They may also sell live chickens,
lambs and beef.
Muslim families from New York and New Jersey often drive
several hours to farms for a day of halal butchering, toting
the meat home in ice chests to fill their freezers for the
coming year.
To further aid farmers wanting to allow on-farm butchering,
the Sheep & Goat Marketing Program—a joint venture
between Cornell University and the University of Maryland—sells
a poster outlining the techniques for Halal on-farm slaughter.
There are versions available in English, Arabic, Persian,
Spanish and Urdu (see "For more information"
Speak the language
To do business with ethnic populations you need to be able
to effectively get your message across as well as understand
what customers want to tell you. You don't necessarily have
to learn a second language, but you should be aware that people
for whom English is a second language may not use the words
you expect. For instance, "ram" is routinely used
to also mean male goat, what farmers in the U.S. refer to
as a "buck."
Thick accents need to also be taken into account. "Do
you have any biddies," is what an older farmer thought
the young Jamaican man had said to him when he called to enquire
about purchasing a goat. "No, I don't sell chickens,
only goats," the farmer replied. It wasn't until
the caller made the sound of a goat did the farmer understand
and was able to make a sale.
A hurdle often faced by Muslims when requesting the ability
to slaughter on-farm is the use of the word "sacrifice."
It's nothing more than their religious term for slaughter,
Marketing to ethnic communities can be interesting and rewarding.
Talk to your customers and find out as much as you can about
how they prepare and cook their goat. Ask for recipes and
try them yourself. Share them with other customers.
Most importantly, be respectful of your ethnic customers'
faith and customs, even if they differ greatly from your own.
Many immigrants are in the United States to escape atrocities
that have happened in their homeland. They are extremely grateful
for the opportunities to hold on to traditions—and tastes—of
home. If you can help them make these connections in their
new land, you're building community that will bring
rewards for everybody.
Sandra Kay Miller is a freelance
writer based in Newburg, Pennsylvania. She owns Painted Hand
Farm where she raises meat goats, pastured heritage turkeys
and organic vegetables with her family.