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#HERCollective Contributor: Violetta Leigh
Lorrie didn't even wait until Autumn passed out. He sat on the couch, legs hanging off the edge, in those bunchy jeans she found so unflattering. A half-empty beer clung to his ankle, teetering on the cheap carpet. His gaze remained fixed on the television, green eyes glazed. On the screen, hockey players swung around each other on the ice, connected, collided, and beat each other with poles. Blood marred ice. Men missing teeth screamed, silenced beneath the booming tone of the sports announcer.
She picked her way over his legs, shimmied past the coffee table, and slunk into the bedroom. She unrolled a navy canvas bag with leather handles onto the bed. Into it, she tucked three of her favourite ankle-length prairie dresses, bodices seamed with white lace. She packed spare underwear, a silver bangle set with a turquoise cabochan, brown lace-up loafers, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, and a sweater – in case it got cold. She plopped her cream wool hat with the floppy brim on her head and recrossed the living room. Later, reflecting on her exit, the details weren't clear in her memory. She couldn't recall if the room was dark and light flickered from the television screen, or if he was there, or if he wasn't there, if he turned his head to follow her movement as she kicked on her sandals and walked out the door – probably not.
At some point, she collected her jean jacket from the wire hanger in the closet next to the front door. At some point, the screen door slammed on her way out. At some point, she decided not to go back. Her house keys nestled in the carpet under the coffee table.
It's unfortunate men think their penis is a tether. Lorrie felt a smugness cultivating in Autumn for months. He never said anything, but it was the way his arm hung behind her, curved across the back of the couch, with his fingers brushing the nape of her neck. It was the way he savoured her watching the flex of his torso, as he dragged his favourite gray shirt up, while she sat in bed and waited. It was the curl of his smile when she slammed his dinner plate down after he cruised in, twenty minutes late again.
"I'm not going to keep cooking for you," she said.
He dug his fork in, took a mouthful of green beans sautéed with butter and almonds.
"It's good," he said.
He wasn't an asshole all the time. He said he loved her. He turned away from the television and touched her cheek with his fingers. He gazed at her, earnest, his eyebrows raised away from the sea glass green of his eyes. You know how beautiful you are? He said. You know how beautiful you are, right? He stroked the acoustic guitar he bought with the money he saved on his second semester after he dropped out of college during his first. He plucked the strings and read her body like he saw notes vibrating in the curve of her elbows or the rise of her clavicle. He took some introductory English courses and dropped out after he realized there's no money in poetry.
When Lorrie went to Autumn's apartment for the first time, he lived with a man he met in Introduction to American Poetry 1950s-Present. The roommate seemed faceless beneath the light brown scruff on his chin and cheeks. Lorrie remembered him clopping around perpetually in shorts, always playing a wooden instrument of some kind. He brewed chicory coffee replacement on the stove and murmured about the interconnected universe. He compared the spiral pattern found on the florets of Romanesco broccoli to the twirl of the galaxy.
Once, as they sat next on the couch, she sampled a joint he offered. He reached below the hem of her dress and touched the silver bracelets she wore on her ankle as she inhaled. Then, he touched the skin beneath the bracelets.
"All beings were made to fit together," he said.
What a line. If all beings were made to fit together, she wondered if he would fuck his dog. She tapped ash onto the floor, passed the joint back, and escaped to Autumn's room.
One of the first things that impressed Lorrie about Autumn was the book of poetry on his bedside table: required reading for his Introduction to American Poetry 1950s-Present class. They sat in bed, on top of sheets and blanket, and he read to her from The Pill vs. The Springfield Mine Disaster by Richard Brautigan. He read Gee, You're So Beautiful That It's Starting to Rain.
i want your long blonde beauty/ to be taught in high school,/so kids will learn that God/ lives like music in the skin
He told her that beat poets were the best ones, because anyone could understand them. They wrote to enunciate, to shout, to engage with an audience that leaned over tables in cafés and listened with their whole head tipped to the poet – ear a funnel for the tangled language to be spun into the brain. That day, she wondered if he saw sunshine woven into her ragged blonde hair. She wondered if he felt God stirring inside of him as he pushed the straps her dress of her shoulders and squeezed one of her breasts.
Later, she found out that he carried this one book of poetry around like a talisman. That he spoke poems about toilets and cups of coffee like they were mantras, words that invoked deep spiritual movement – lightning strikes of lust.
After Lorrie left the house, she walked down the quiet street of squat houses to the highway. Finally, a reason to be glad she lived close to the blast of speeding traffic. She set her canvas bag on the road-roughed gravel and stuck out her thumb.
Lorrie hitched from Colorado to New Mexico. She crossed the state border without much of a hassle. The driver didn't say much. His skin glowed red from years of sun. His hair, white as cotton balls, curled back from his shining forehead. A long mustache drooped over his stoic mouth. He said he painted and trucked a load of finished canvases to Santa Fe for an art show. She said, sure, Santa Fe sounds cool. Santa Fe sounds like a chill city. He grunted, made a noncommittal movement of his shoulders. She leaned back in the passenger seat and lost herself in the twanging country music wailing from the dusty radio. A crystal hung from his rear-view mirror, a faceted piece of quartz that jittered when the truck hit potholes. The crystal encouraged her to trust him. Anyone who wanted to split open clear sunlight and touch a spectrum of colours couldn't be bad, right?
When they stopped at a gas station, she waited until he headed inside to use the washroom and buy a sack of sunflower seeds. Once the door swung shut after him, she put her knuckles under the quartz-faceted light. She let indigo and violet colour her knuckles.
When the painter dropped her off, he unhitched the back of his truck to give her a look at his paintings: all self-portraits, nude, the images shining with the high gloss of oil paint The painter stood in his images, shriveled and naked, holding different animal skulls over his face. Bone shielded the rawness of his body. The skull offered an honest mask. She wished he would paint one of her.
The Silver Saddle budget economy motel was a Western-American stuccoed building built in flat geometric shapes. It rented rooms by the week. She started with one and promised herself to figure out a direction by the end of the month. She asked for a room at the back, near an exit, and the hotel clerk – a stout woman with powerful arms, a no-nonsense set to her features, and a single silvery braid curling over one shoulder gave her a skeptical look.
"You running, girl?" she said, passing Lorrie a ring with two keys dangling from it.
Lorrie shrugged and looked down. She wished she had an animal skull to hold over her face. She hadn't cried since leaving the house. Maybe the clerk could see something else in her eyes.
In the hotel room, Lorrie stepped over old stains in the carpet like puddles. She dropped her bag on the bed. It didn't bounce. The mattress sagged beneath the new weight. Lorrie let herself crumble for the first time since leaving.
The hotel room offered a desk with a plastic rotary telephone, miniature refrigerator, bed, bedside table, and window with curtains the colour of pumpkin pie and whiskey vomit. The curtains she pulled open. She contemplated the phone posed silent on the desk, plastic casing the colour of old skin. She took the handset from the base and laid it receiver up on the desk. Did Autumn still watch hockey on television? No. She left – two days ago? She pictured him picking up the phone from the cradle. Setting it down again. Picking it up, looking at the numbers, and having no set of digits to punch in.
The door of the mini-fridge held a line of amber liquors in tiny bottles. She swept them off the shelf and stole into the bathroom. The lightbulb guttered; the bathtub's lavendar enamel cracked. She stepped across the seamed, water-swollen linoleum and dumped the liquor bottles on the back of the toilet. She unscrewed each miniature lid and poured the few mouthfuls down the sink. The empty bottles she stacked in the fridge.
She unzipped her bag and pulled her sweater on, then grabbed her crumpled pack of cigarettes and lighter. Behind the motel, a single plastic lawn chair sat beside an overflowing glass ashtray. The chair faced an expressionless expanse of red desert. Lorrie plopped down, untangling her long dress from her ankles. She moved the ashtray so she could reach it without leaning, pulled a cigarette from the pack, and set the rest beside her hip on the chair. Thumb struck lighter. The flame wavered over the end of the cigarette. When the tip smouldered, she inhaled.
Back at home – no – the house, she abandoned the dining room set her grandmother willed Lorrie. A walnut table that expanded for guests and four matching chairs, all polished to the tone of arbor velvet. She inhaled again, held the smoke in her lungs. The table set receded. The smoke filled her insides and forced out everything that wasn't bone. She exhaled. Images of the house returned. Beer bottles cluttered the coffee table. Whiskey smouldered in Autumn's throat. Clung to his palms. He played his guitar and slicked the strings with drink. He stumbled out the door and returned hours later, with one of their friends. Maybe Jordan, young and vulnerable, with a dyed red bob haircut that accented her wide mouth. Jordan always placed her small hands on Autumn's chest when they chatted at his shows. She eyed his guitar like it could fuck her. Jordan was too young to see Autumn's drinking as more than partying. In Lorrie's black fantasy, Jordan followed Autumn home and he lowered her onto the empty sheets. Afterward, he reached over to the bedside table and picked up the book of poetry. He slid the pages open. Outside, it started to rain.
The next morning, she got up, showered, pulled on one of her lace prairie dresses, and headed to the continental breakfast. It featured eggs, rolls, a couple soft pieces of fruit, and strong Cowboy Coffee. Hot salsa on everything – green and red, like Christmas.
The woman from the front desk swung by her table with a steaming carafe of coffee.
Lorrie nodded and avoided meeting the woman's questioning stare. She refilled Lorrie's cup, then nodded to her cigarettes and lighter. They lay next to her left hand, ready.
"Heard of fireweed?"
"What?" said Lorrie, taken off guard and mouth full.
"It doesn't grow here," said the woman, "but I'm from a different desert. Well, semi-arid zone. Up there, in the Okanagan."
She gestured north. Lorrie hadn't heard of it and shrugged slow, chewing eggs.
"Fireweed only blooms after a forest fire. You think the whole forest is wiped out, tree trunks black and scarred, then these huge stalks with purple blossoms appear overnight. Remember, some seeds need heat to germinate. It's never over."
Lorrie swallowed. The bite stuck.
"O-okay," she said.
Lorrie gulped hot coffee to ease the eggs caught in her throat. The woman nodded and drifted away, giving her privacy.
After breakfast, Lorrie headed behind the motel. She dragged the plastic chair into the shade for the first half of the day. She smoked. At about five or six in the afternoon, she dragged the chair into the sunlight and soaked in the warmth. She wore her wide light-lensed sunglasses. She kept her floppy hat pulled over her blonde hair.
The desert unravelled behind the motel, dusky red and wild. Pocked pumice hills swelled into limestone cliffs that dripped different shades of rusty stone. Saw-edged Agave hunkered in the red dirt. Beaver tail cacti squatted between green sage brush and scrub grass. She watched. A brown and gray snake s-weaved its way from one bunch of sage to another. The frothy flowers perched on the long stalks of shaggy Yucca cactus shivered in a breeze blowing too high for her to appreciate. She traced rock formations with her eyes and created shapes in her mind. That one, a tall crisp bottle of beer. The one over there, two figures sitting together, hunched towards each other, murmuring secrets. The bottom bulge of red-gold stone formed the base of a banjo. A long pillar of rock stretched upwards: the neck of the instrument.
She smoked until sunset, lighting the new tip of one cigarette with the coal end of the old stub. In the hotel diner, she ordered a vegetarian burrito with lots of beans, rice, avocado, tomato, and lettuce. The woman at the front desk watched Lorrie as she crossed lobby from diner to rooms. With one thick arm propped on the counter, the woman turned her whole head to watch Lorrie pass. She didn't acknowledge the gaze. If all beings were connected, could the woman feel what Lorrie felt? She felt like a television set with its screen smashed in. Like a digital hockey player smashed into the boards. Like a series of screaming pixels. She returned to the chair at the back of the motel and resumed her ritualized chain smoking.
After three days, Lorrie felt delirious. It was sometime after nine at night and she was riding a nicotine high that crashed through her body like the desert wind. Her fingers hung so limp they barely clung to her smoke. Crumpled white cigarette packages cluttered the trash can in her room. They crept over the lip of the basket and tossed themselves over the stained carpet. Lorrie, took a drag, paused, and crossed her legs. She rested the hand holding the cigarette on her propped up knee. She closed her eyes for a moment.
he wants her long blonde beauty to be taught in high school. she sits on the couch and he storms back and forth in front of her. the coffee table is kicked beside the t.v. behind the t.v.? he wanted to play the music that god told him lived under her skin. no? you're too drunk. he's too drunk. we're too drunk. he shouted. the coffee table flipped over. she put her knuckles between her teeth. sat on the couch with her knees together. cried without really feeling the shudder in her breastbone. just warm water. salty lips. do you know what it's like when your father comes home so drunk he falls down? no. do you know what it's like when you're thirteen and your dad comes home so drunk he shits his pants and passes out and you're too small to pick him up? no. you don't know shit. she doesn't know what any of it is like. he kisses her. she kisses him. salty lips. he pulls her knees apart. she is crying. he bends her over the end of their couch and her dress is pushed up, but it isn't off. he leaves his favourite shirt on. he doesn't pull it off with one long flex of his body. her palms pressed to the couch cushion, poised with her hips hanging her suspended off the end of the couch. her knuckles are purple. her fingers dig into the fabric. he is hard and pushes into her. she isn't sure if she's turned on. after he comes, he pulls out and it drips onto their carpet. i'm sorry. he apologizes. i'm sorry. i have to go. i'm sorry. Somewhere, a door slams.
Lorrie woke up. Her knees smouldered. How long had she passed out for? Her knees felt too hot. Was the sun still out? Did she pass out and sunburn? The cigarette wasn't between her knuckles anymore. She reached down to brush ash off her knees and her palms encountered a wall of light. Asleep, the cigarette drooped and wicked fire from her dress. She was on fire. Yellow tongues of flame slid over her knees, up towards her hips. She screamed.
Up, not fast enough, she tore the dress over her head. Her back arched. The dress wouldn't come off. It seemed to be glued to her skin, grafted to her figure. She tore at the charred lace bodice, but the fabric stuck. She screamed again, but no one came – not even the desk clerk. Maybe no one cared. Maybe they couldn't hear her.
The flames ate through her dress. She rubbed her palms over her bare skin, but didn't feel scorched. Her skirt dropped off and fell with a sucking whoosh to burn around her ankles. The bodice burned and bared her chest. She rubbed the last blackened notes of fabric off. She tore away her hat before it caught fire. Naked and sooty, she hunched behind the motel.
Silence framed the desert. The grind of far away traffic faded. No birds whispered to each other, clinging to thick-skinned cacti between the spines, or rustling among the musky sagebrush. Lorrie thought she heard wind skipping across the dented surface of the pumice hills.
Behind her, the upturned lawn chair lay on its back, stiff plastic legs jutting upwards. A few bits of blackened fabric dotted a circle of scorched earth. Might as well keep going, she thought, ready to move forward in any direction. She uncrossed her arms from across her breasts and straightened her spine. Shoulders back, bare and smudged with ash, she stepped into the desert.
Violetta Leigh majored in creative writing and environmental studies at the University of Victoria in British Columbia. She is published by Minola Review, In Shades magazine, Situate magazine, and Active Fiction Project. She has upcoming publications with So to Speak and SAND. She coordinates events with Real Vancouver Writers' Series. She thinks perfection is ugly and in the things humans make want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion. Find her online at: www.violettaleigh.com
feature image from flickr


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What you may have missed
Friday, December 4, 2015
Here's a little slice of what you may have missed this week in the Wapakoneta Daily News.
Monday: The Cridersville Breakfast with Santa was a success.
Tuesday: A Wapakoneta Middle School student was elected 'governor' as part of the YMCA Youth in Government program.
Wednesday: A Wapakoneta High School senior was named the Daughters of the American Revolution Lima Chapter Good Citizens Award Recipient.
Thursday: The town will celebrate the ninth annual Children's Hometown Holiday this weekend.
Friday: The Wapakoneta City Council's Streets and Alleys committee met on Thursday to discuss street issues.

subset: commoncrawl


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It's already the end of month so I'm linking up with Mia and Kelli to share a few things I've been loving recently.
I'm a new tea drinker, and I think this green ginger tea might be my all-time favorite so far. On the subject of tea, I finally purchased a kettle we found at Home Goods, so that has also been a favorite.
In case you missed this foundation post, I'm still loving the Smashbox Studio Skin Foundation. I've recently been applying it with my fingers instead of a brush (#lazy) and I love the lighter coverage it gives.
The Smith's Strawberry Lip Balm made an appearance in my March and November favorites last year, but I'm mentioning it again because it's that good. My lips were insanely chapped all winter, and aside from regular vaseline this lip balm was the only thing that gave them any relief. I tried the rose & mandarin version and didn't like it nearly as much as the strawberry.
I love perfume samples, but rarely remember to use them, so I made it a habit to start using them up this month. I'm in love with Beach Walk- as I'm sure you can imagine, it smells like the beach in the best way possible. I've loved the Daisy Dream perfume bottle ever since it came out, but using the sample of the fragrance sold me on it even more- I would love a full-size of either of these fragrances!
Season 2 of Fixer Upper was just as good as the first and it's definitely one of my favorite shows to watch weekly. I can almost guarantee it will make you want to move to Texas so you can visit Magnolia Farms and have Chip and Joanne design your dream house.
I loved so many blog posts this past month but one that stood out was Lindsay's post on writing what you want when it comes to blogging and how important it is to not let other people make you feel like your posts aren't good enough or deep enough to be considered good blog posts. She also has a ton of really great beauty posts!
What have you been loving this month? Any new or old favorites?


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Donut Style Guide: SHOP 12 Ways To Celebrate National Doughnut Day
These tasteful picks have totally hit our sweet spot! Want to celebrate National Doughnut Day 2015? Simply SHOP these stylish finds and savor the day in style, long after you finished your tasty treat.
June 5 is officially National Doughnut Day — and we know just how you can indulge in the day without splurging on the calories! From bathing suits to bags, tees and even sleep sets and jewelry, there are so many ways you can suit up in the sweet look — simply check out our donut style guide right here.
Who doesn't love donuts? The day may be associated with free doughnuts from your fave sweet spots, but it actually dates back to 1938. During World War I women volunteered for the Salvation Army, making donuts for soldiers stationed overseas — and the morale booster quickly caught on! In 1938, the Chicago branch of the Salvation Army officially launched National Doughnut Day to raise funds and give back to soldiers — and we've been celebrating ever since!
We never need a reason to indulge in a sweet treat and National Doughnut Day certainly serves up an enticing case — and it doesn't get any better than combining our foodie interests with fashion. Whether you're heading to brunch or the beach, you can celebrate all weekend long with these fashionable finds. From tech accessories to jewelry, get ready to show your sweet appreciation for the tasty treat. They also make great gifts for the donut lover in your life!
This just might be our sweetest style roundup to date! So, what are you waiting for? Browse our picks and SHOP if you want to rep your divine donut style all season long — and be sure to check out our running list if you want to further satisfy your sweet tooth with a free tasty treat!
Are you loving National Doughnut Day as much as we are?
Katrina Mitzeliotis


text: Comic "Lite mycket begärt" 70 SEK "Lite mycket begärt" is a collection of my comics, mostly from 2016 and 2017 but also a few older ones. 60 pages, all in color except for the four pages I did to try out grey scale. Size: A5. Language: Swedish. Add to cart Tweet Return policy Terms & Conditions


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I am learning: GCSE Spanish is an entertaining and engaging game based revision and assessment tool, which is PROVEN TO RAISE RESULTS. 87% of teachers agree I am learning is an effective way to learn. Merging interactive games with official curriculum content and featuring over 450 unique...
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A parody of 'I Am Rich' and 'I Am Richer' applications. Displays a penny. Flip the penny over to see bit of wisdom. Shake to hear how much money is left in your piggy bank. Requirements: iOS 2.0 or later. Compatible with iPhone, iPad, and iPod touch.
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Creee en 1991, l'agence Immobiliere des Trois Gares, I.3.G, s'est specialisee dans la vente d'appartements et de maisons dans le quartier des Vallees, et assure egalement la gestion de biens locatifs. Le secteur "des Vallees" autour de la gare des Vallees, regroupe une partie des communes de...
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The Joe Chithalen Memorial Musical Instrument Lending Library (Joe's M.I.L.L.) has over 750 instruments and resources.
These include, but are not limited to, guitars, keyboards, drums, horns, violins, percussion, exotic instruments, amplifiers, sheet music, and much more – and they're all available to borrow ... free of charge!
Roger Eccleston, the coordinator at Joe's MILL, is happy to answer questions or help you find the right instrument to borrow. A skilled musician in his own right, Roger has vast experience in repairing, maintaining and restoring musical instruments of all kinds.
Run by volunteers, Joe's MILL is a registered charity in Kingston, Ontario founded by musician, Wally High, in memory of his friend and bandmember, the late Joe Chithalen, who was a talented bass player in several well-known Kingston bands. Joe's MILL operates in tribute to Joe's love of music such that everyone who wants to can enjoy playing music as he did.


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ShareASale.com connects advertisers and publishers who want to increase sales and drive leads through affiliate marketing.
No coupon codes have been listed for this site. If you find one please submit it (using the form to the right) for other QponCoupon.com users to view.You could also try posting a request from facebook discussion board.


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Life LatelyWednesday, September 09, 2015
+ The mornings have been cool enough lately to start eyeing the sweaters in my closet. Some mornings I'll give in and pull one on, only to rip it off a few hours later when the temperature tops 90° and reminds me that summer is most definitely still in town. Still, there are subtle traces of fall — even here in the steamy South.
+ I've been trying hard to meet my steps goal every day. I get so proud when I feel that vibration on my wrist and immediately go to show Mark...who then shows me his step count that is double and triple mine. #PartyPooper. I've also started trying my hand (and joints and every other muscle in my body) at yoga lately. I'm thinking of trying Yoga With Adrienne's 30 Day Challenge soon. Anyone else tried it? I love her videos and sense of humor!
+ I've started using Google Photos and, although I'm still learning all it's buttons and whistles, I love having a place to store my photos without using up all of my phone's storage. I can't tell you how many times I have gone through a rapid delete of photos in order to free up storage. This post has helpful step-by-step instructions for transferring your photos to Google Photo if you are interested.
+ I lit a candle the other night before bed and it instantly put me in the mood for fall decorating and cozying up this house of ours. There are boxes still stuffed in corners and empty spaces that we just never took the time to fix up this summer, but I think it's time for a change. One of my favorite parts of fall and winter is that period of time in the evenings when it's too dark (and cold) to do anything outside, but too early for bed. That's when the lamps get turned on, the candles get lit, the record player comes on, and we get to just chill. Except this fall, I don't want to chill while staring at a box full of clutter that never got unpacked and an empty wall with a lone screw in it!


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Afford-A-Bail Bail Bonds Derby
Derby, CT 06418
URL: https://affordabail.net/find-bail-agent/derby-ct-bail-bonds/
Do you know what a bail bondsman is, or does? Hopefully, you will never be in the situation when you need bail bonds because if you are in that situation, it means that you are in jail. Whenever a crime is committed the local police force may be in a position to arrest someone. Once arrested the alleged suspect will be put in jail and in many situations will not be released until a bail bond is paid. A bail bondsman provides the service of paying the bail for their clients, with the understanding that the customer will turn up at court on the designated day.
Hartford Police Department
Address: 125 Water St, Derby, CT
Phone: 203.734.1651
Derby Superior Court Clerk's Office
Address: 106 Elizabeth St Derby,CT
Phone: 203.735.7438
Also Serving
East Granby, Simsbury, North Granby, Bloomfield, and East Hartford bail bonds.
About Derby, CT
Living in Derby CT we are spoilt for things to do, places to go and venues to experience. For many people who live in the area, we can be guilty of taking our beautiful city for granted and not exploring some of the magnificent restaurants and bars that are under our noses. It can be so easy to get into a groove, always going to the same bars, or eating at the usual restaurants, that we can sometimes be missing out on incredible experiences, which are literally under our noses. Why not broaden your horizons a little this weekend, and try visiting somewhere new, you might just discover something amazing?
If you decide to partake of some alcoholic beverages on your adventures, there is always the possibility of an argument ensuing. If such problems do occur and you find yourself in the predicament of being arrested, then the good news is that Afford-A-Bail the leading bail bonds company in Connecticut, has an office in the heart of Derby. The team of local bail bondsmen is available 24 hours a day seven days a week to help resolve such problems and ensure that you spend as little time as possible in jail. Make sure to ask for Afford-A-Bail should you ever be arrested in Derby CT.
Why Prison Is Not Always The Solution
The law is always portrayed as black and white, and yet the people the law is designed to govern, and police are not all identical by any means. People can end up committing crimes for a multitude of reasons, and although there may be some perceived benefit to incarcerating them, prison is more about punishment than rehabilitation. Prison costs the authorities huge amounts of money which is why there is legislation covering bail bonds (say, in Derby, CT) and other solutions which enable people to get out of prison quicker.


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Pope Francis on Fear of the Lord versus the Lord on Fear of the Lord
by Christopher A. Ferrara
November 29, 2017
In his Angelus address of November 19, Pope Francis yet again (for numerous examples, click here) placed his own peculiar spin on Sacred Scripture, producing an interpretation very nearly the opposite of what Scripture actually teaches.
In discussing the parable of the unprofitable servant who, in fear of his master, buries the talent (gold piece) his master gave him instead of making it fruitful by investment (Matt. 25), Pope Francis declared that this servant "did not have a true idea of God. We must not think of Him as a bad master, harsh and severe, who wants to punish us… And Jesus has always shown that God is not a harsh and intolerant master, but a Father full of love, of tenderness, a father full of goodness."
Here we see an example of a technique oft employed in Modernist theology: hiding one truth by emphasizing another. In this case, the mercy and blessings of God are emphasized to the exclusion of His justice and punishments, as if the former negated the latter. But the whole point of Matthew 25 is precisely to warn of the divine punishment of eternal damnation that awaits the unprofitable servant who fails to do good to others with the gifts that God has given him. Hence Our Lord here describes the Last Day with the further parable of the separation of the sheep from the goats, with the former rewarded eternally but the latter eternally consigned to what Our Lord Himself describes as the "everlasting fire" of hell.
To quote the Haydock Commentary on this Chapter: "Thus not only the rapacious, the unjust, the evil doers, but also all those who neglect to do good, are punished with the greatest severity…. Jesus therefore naturally includes with these parables a description of that awful day which is to succeed the final reckoning, and which will unalterably fix our abode either in eternal happiness, or in eternal misery."
Indeed, as Father Haydock notes, the unprofitable servant calumniates God by accusing him of being "too severe and unbending," which is the excuse of the unrighteous for their lack of charity, for which excuse they are punished with the divine punishment.
Yet, for all this, Pope Francis somehow fails to note that the 25th Chapter of Matthew is all about the divine punishment and the Day of Judgment for those who fail to do good according to the talents with which God has endowed them. It is as if one were to talk about the voyage of the Titanic without ever mentioning that it sank in a disastrous wreck and carried many souls with it to the bottom.
The God without wrath, judgment or punishment is not the true God, but the God of Modernist fiction. On the contrary, as the Lord Himself has revealed: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." (Ps. 111:10) The opinion that the Lord must never be feared is the beginning, not of wisdom, but of the worst folly imaginable: the folly that leads directly onto the path that ends in hell.


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Impact Skates - Our Mission
The primary mission of Impact Skates is to support our skating community in our local rink. By supporting our skaters, we feel that we have made a real contribution to their success on the ice. We are proud to actively support all senior and junior ice hockey teams on the Isle of Wight as well as the Isle of Wight Figure Skating and Ice Dance Club. Whilst our support alone can never be enough - we are committed to supporting all skating disciplines in whatever way we can.


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Hardware & Software Solutions
Researching and obtaining product from several different sources can have its drawbacks often resulting in compatibility problems, increased labour costs and supplier conflict; all time consuming issues. With AMC as your single source of supply you work with a specialist company that has many man-years of experience integrating systems.
A single point of contact also means speedier resolution of any problems that may arise. Technical issues regarding integration and product interoperability are diminished and you benefit from AMC's economies of scale.
- AMC for Computers, Laptop, Printers, Scanner, Network Devices
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A change in the product mix due to component obsolescence can have unforeseen effects. This can be expensive in mission critical or revenue generating markets. Frequently, commodity suppliers do not offer long term product availability. Many of our products are supported by OEM supply agreements that assure long-term availability. We also work with our customers to manage change and will undertake type approval against our customer requirements. Any changes are signed-off by our customer before being implemented in production.
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Puigmolto Cava Brut Reserva
Pale lemon with fine mousse. Aromas and flavours of white peaches, apricots, apples and pears, with good acidity and medium weight on the palate. Macabeo gives added freshness and acidity, and Parellada lends floral delicate aromas. Creamy and well-balanced on the palate, with a long and delicate finish.
Price: £9.99
For free delivery please spend over £250
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Gal Gadot Refuses To Wear Heels To Her 'Wonder Woman' Premieres: See Her Affordable Flats
Gal Gadot is refusing to wear heels to her 'Wonder Woman' premieres & it is absolutely incredible. Gal has been rocking everything from flats to sandals to flatforms & you have to see her affordable shoes!
This is the greatest thing ever — Gal Gadot, 32, is us, and is refusing to wear heels to all of her Wonder Woman premieres! She headed to the LA premiere donning a stunning red sequin Givenchy gown, Tiffany & Co. jewels, and believe it or not — flat metallic ALDO sandals — how amazing is that? Gal's stylist, Elizabeth Stewart, posted a photo of Gal with the caption, "Wonder Women wear flats!," and it is so true! From then on, Gal has been taking the flats to a whole new level.
Her latest look was at the Mexico City premiere where she looked stunning in a custom silk black Prada gown with stunning beaded embellishments. She topped her look off with Anita Ko jewels, but the best part of her entire look was that underneath the gown, Gal was actually wearing a pair of Rocket Dog platform flip-flops!
Elizabeth posted the photo of Gal wearing the sandals with the caption, "our lil' secret @rocketdogfootwear !!" and we thought that was hilarious because you would have never known Gal was wearing a pair of the Rocket Dog Bigtop Webbing Platform Sandals from the '90s! We think it's so hilarious that she kept them hidden under her dress, and to be honest it's a brilliant idea because the sandals added height, but were also super comfy. Maybe now Rocket Dog platforms will make a comeback!
What do you guys think of Gal wearing flats to her premieres — do you think it's hilarious too?


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Our Own Mistress, A Novel
Introduction: Audio Recording
To hear the audiobook recording, please contact the author.
ADVISORY: The recording contains adult themes and language, and may not be suitable for everyone. Audio may not be of the highest quality.
Segment #1
After a lifetime of being held, after the drawn-out anticipation of defilement so unpleasant I couldn't possibly describe it accurately, they were gone. I curled my body and wrapped my arms around my knees, drawing myself in so no one could ever touch me again. I breathed in and my breath rasped in its effort to get to my lungs. I heard someone skid to a stop next to me, and I sensed that someone leaning over me. I felt a hand on my still-nude hip and I instinctively reacted by screaming and batting at the hand, simultaneously pushing myself away and crawling sideways to the nearest wall.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, darling. It's over. No one's going to hurt you."
I looked desperately at the end of the alley leading to the street, otherwise known as freedom. I would have jumped up and run, possibly until my legs couldn't carry me anymore, but I was still painfully aware of being mostly naked, and a breeze reminded me to pull my shirt as far around me as it would go. I felt for buttons, but they were missing. I curled against the wall, covering my face with my shaking hands, hoping the world would disappear.
I refused to look up when dirt crunched, the sound neared, and something brushed my ankle.
"There are your trousers. Take your time. I'll turn my back if you like."
I peeked through two fingers first. My jeans were there next to me, folded neatly. I glanced in the voice's direction, and a tall, somewhat broad-shouldered male figure stood facing away from me, stiff and uncomfortable, glancing in the direction my captors had fled. I snatched up the denim and pulled it on as fast as I possibly could. As I did, I stepped on something sharp and gave a whimper. He turned around. I backed up against the wall again and watched him wide-eyed.
He was very tall, and very concerned. It was expressed clearly on his face with furrowed brows. He had a sharp, masculine jaw and similarly sharp, high cheekbones. His mouth was somewhat small and his eyes were bright. They darted back and forth, searching the ground.
"Ah, here, your shoes."
He took less than two long strides and picked them up, and kept his distance as he handed them out to me, stretching his arm to do it. As I took them gingerly from his fingers, I continued to observe him. It was comforting, being able to see clearly enough to make out details. I felt myself regain the ability to breathe normally as I took in the physical signs of his strength, his discomfort, his worry. He was lean, strong, clean-cut, and very male. He wore a light blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the tail tucked into belt-buckled greyish pants. His gender should have disconcerted me, but I felt a warm sense of safety.
Though, I still didn't want him near me.
"Um, you want help with—?" He took a half-step toward me as he indicated an innocent desire to help with open, upward palms. I slid along the wall away from him.
"Right, right. Sorry. Just, take your time."
I finally managed to get my shoes on, and when I stood, still leaning against the wall, I saw two more figures appear at the alley entrance. I could only see that one was a man, the other a woman, and they were staring and waiting.
"They've called the authorities. They're only waiting to be sure you're alright."
He was attentive, to be sure. He had to be observing my expressions, watching for signs of fear.
"I have your bag here. Would you like it now?"
I turned to him. He held out my ugly leather satchel, still far enough away to need to stretch it out to me. He wanted to be helpful, but he was obviously uncomfortable. Why couldn't I speak? I couldn't bring myself to thank him, or even say, "yes." I considered these words, but it took effort to swallow, and I was still aware of every breath. He must have felt so awkward standing there, with me trying to find the will and energy to reach out and take my bag from him. He remained there, though, patiently waiting for me to move. I managed to push away from the wall with a hand. I stepped a little closer to his arm. I took the satchel from him and clutched it to my chest. I looked at him, directly in his blue eyes, for a brief moment. He must have understood that one look as a good sign, because he let out an audible sigh of relief. The whole circumstance must have made him nervous; he was trying desperately to help without frightening me further, or provoking an outburst of panic. I couldn't hold his eyes long, and I looked down and away. I glanced back and forth between him and the ground. I managed another glimpse up at him, and saw blondish curls.
"Is she alright?" A woman's voice called. I flinched.
He turned his head to respond, but kept his eyes on me. "She's shaken. She needs a bit more time."
I heard her quick, light footfalls as she came toward us. I threw a short look in her direction; she was dressed professionally in a black midi-length skirt, Mary Jane heels, and a white blouse. I didn't see any other part of her appearance because now I felt surrounded. More and more people were going to want to help. They were going to ask questions, want to touch me, and I wanted never to be with people again, much less touched. Sure enough, I felt her hand on my right shoulder. The touch was light, but it was enough for me to close my eyes and recoil.
"Steady on, Mary, I don't think she wants to be touched," the Tall Man spoke for me.
"I'm sorry, love," she spoke slowly and removed her hand. "We've called the police. They're on their way. We'll wait here with you."
I still couldn't bring myself to look another person in the face. I squeezed my bag tightly, and nodded, eyes closed. I stared at the ground as they spoke to one another.
"Did you see them?"
"No. Not clearly, anyway. There were several of them, though."
"Were they…did they…?"
I assumed her pauses were directed at me. When I still said nothing, he responded, "They were certainly going to. I don't know if they…well…exactly how far they got."
There was awkward silence for some time before sirens approached. They reached their peak, voices sounded, and the third person, whom I had yet to meet, waved them down the alley to us. I was then surrounded by men in uniform.
I vomited.
Segment #2
We sat in silence. I was tightly pressed to my side of the car, squeezing my satchel to myself, drawn in as far as I could go. I stared out the window at nothing. Blurred reflections of passing buildings, trees, and people moved in my vision like floaters. Will lived closer to where we had been than I did, and though we reached his apartment relatively soon, the ride felt awkward, drawn out, and endless.
The cab pulled to a gentle stop. I looked over at him. He was sitting back in the seat, his knees spread wide because the car wouldn't accommodate those long legs. His hands were intertwined in his lap, and his head was bowed. I could see enough of his expression to know he was thinking hard of what to say. I shifted my gaze down at the space between us. I had nothing to say that would make it less uncomfortable.
"I, um…" He stopped and looked out his window toward a building, presumably his apartment. I looked in the same direction. It was a nice looking place. In fact, the whole neighborhood looked very pleasant.
I suddenly dreaded going back to my place, my hole. The sensation almost knocked the wind out of me. He would get out of the cab, and I would be alone with the strange cab driver. I would be at the mercy of everyone out there. I felt a sense of desperate anxiety; I wanted to ask, no, beg him to stay, to let me stay, anything. But, goddamnit, I couldn't say a fucking thing. I fought to breathe again.
He lifted his backside up from the seat. He reached back into his pocket as he did, pulling out an old brown wallet. He slid his butt back into place, opened the wallet, and pulled out a white card. Dropping the wallet between his legs, he reached forward and tapped the driver, asking for a pen. The driver handed him one, and Will scribbled with the pen on the back of the card, using his right knee as a hard surface. He gave the pen a closing click, and slid the card with two fingers across to me.
"If you need anything."
I stared at it as he paid the driver and gave back the pen. He paused one more time before opening the door to get out, I assume to give me another chance to say something. I didn't look, I didn't speak.
But, then, just as he stepped the first foot to the ground, my head inadvertently snapped up and my breath drew in to speak. I felt it happen, but no thought entered my head as I did it. He heard it, and stopped so suddenly to turn back to me that he had to catch himself on the door. He leaned into the car, half in, half out, and looked at me with such hope and surprise.
His eyes were searching mine. He looked so expectant, so encouraged, like he was begging me to speak with his expression alone.
I met his eyes and felt tears roll down my cheeks. I wanted so much to fall to pieces. I wanted to weep and crawl across the seat. I wanted him to be as comforting as he seemed to want to be. I wanted him, anyone, to wrap me up warmly and let me die that way. It was all there, boiling in my chest, with hot tears as the only outward signs.
But, I sat there, open-mouthed, staring at him with wet, glassy, tired eyes.
His face steadily lost that look of eager suspense, and he seemed so disappointed, and then just troubled again. He sighed and turned to get out. When he stood he paused, holding the top of the door in one hand, with the other on the hood of the car. He bent down then, peering back in at me one last time. I leaned back into my corner.
"Please," he whispered. "Call."
The door closed with a sound that seemed to resonate in my ears.
"Miss?" The driver had been trying to get my attention.
"I'm sorry," I said hoarsely.
"Where to?"
I gave him the address. As I rode, I felt myself withdraw again. The overwhelming emotions faded, I stopped crying, and I drifted into a state of nothingness.
Perhaps, I thought, being alone is the key to survival.
The Treaty, a Novel
It was on a night, standing naked and physically degraded by battle and vagrancy, on that shore which stretched and lay as a view of the yet unknown expanse of the world, that he was approached. As he submerged a toe of the nine remaining on his savage feet into the gently sucking sand, and the waves periodically lapped against his shins, a cool hand, lighter than the foam of that awaiting sea, touched his broad shoulder gently. This being whispered promises in his ear of renewed strength and purpose. It told him of a new nation of individuals in need of one such as him, whose sole function was to combat the enemy, and take part in the campaign for survival, for existence. It swore power and vigor which could not be vanquished by any man, and which fell upon its victims with an unmatched swiftness and dexterity.
This desperate man was awakened from his suffering stupor with new optimism and anticipation. But, this was not a bargain to be made without great consideration. The stranger offered these features as a single opportunity, one which, if it was not grasped, would result in swift death. But the disintegrating man promised the visitor it would not, indeed, be swift. He would not forfeit his life lightly to one who approached an unarmed and dying man from behind at night. What greatness could one so cowardly possibly offer? He posed this question as he snatched the stranger's cold hand from his shoulder and twisted it to such an extent as to cause pain and threaten its removal.
The stranger merely smiled.
The power promised was demonstrated effectively as the man lay beaten and bleeding in the sand. He lay there some moments, finding it difficult to breathe, gazing into the heavens and contemplating his existence as an unknown and unloved individual. The generous stranger knelt beside him with a bellyful of the man's blood, reminding him of imminent death should he refuse the offer. What could possibly lie beyond this life, it remarked to the man, which would be more enjoyable, more meaningful, than an eternity leading a superior race of beings by performing those very duties to which one was born? Where were the gods when the battle ceased and death seemed imminent? Where was humanity when the purpose to one's life was stripped away and all that was left were the possibilities provided by others? Where was love, hope, kindness and a place in the world? Mankind did not offer these things as it promised. Once beaten, a man was forgotten and left to die by his family, fellow soldiers, and country.
But with this new life, this eternity on earth, a man could not be forgotten, because he could not die. His purpose was eternal, because his people were eternal. Their strength could not be defeated by the mere mortal's use of weaponry and tactics created by a leader so fattened on food and drink he dare not enter the battle himself.
No. This was life at its most tangible, most genuine. The feeble existence of man would be a memory only as long as the newborn adjusted and grew. Then one day that memory would become a flicker in the carrier's mind, a thought that perhaps he once knew another way of life, but it was a knowledge not worth retaining.
The man listened to the stranger's speech as he became weighted by death, and sank within himself to drift into that oblivion which only humans come to understand. He accepted the offer as his sight failed him, and his final breath sighed its way from his breast.
Average Men, a Novel
It was officially fall in Davis; the weather was perfect for a long walk, or bike as people were wont to do in the little city. Unfortunately, he did not have time to take in the picturesque glow of varying shades of orange leaves in the setting sun's rays, nor appreciate the comfort of the 79 degree weather. He hadn't bothered to ride a bike in years, or stroll in the attractive downtown area and listen to the weekend bands playing on the street and in the restaurant courtyards. He wondered why. Would his marriage have been better if he had done these things with his wife? Would he be able to enjoy them now that he was alone? He decided to park in the little lot across from the movie theater and walk the blocks to Isleman's house. It would make him late, but he didn't want to come across as actually caring about this "event" anyway.
The streets were alive for a Thursday night, he thought. But, then this was such a popular place. Students gathered in the cafés, yogurt places, and restaurants on a nightly basis, and out-of-towners from nearby cities, some from as far as San Francisco, came to enjoy the friendly, casual area, or walk the Arboretum near the university. The congenial nature of the place, the serene good humor, was almost tangible; everywhere were smiles and nods to strangers, and the only signs of traffic were the pings of bike bells and horns kindly making pedestrians aware of the approaching cyclist. All in all, it was a pleasant place. Its mellowness managed even to penetrate his miserable mood, and while he would not call himself happy, he felt a bit more relaxed. The world slowed, and for a moment he thought, perhaps, he still had some time left to live after all.
It wasn't until he noticed the couples that his mood shifted again. From teenagers to the elderly, men and women, some with the opposite gender, and some with the same, held hands and strolled down the sidewalks. They looked at one another, smiled, laughed, acted shy or coy, and occasionally paused for a moment of PDA. The evening breeze was suddenly a chill, and he put on his wrinkled blazer, rubbed his arms against the cold, and walked a little faster; he considered where the cold was really coming from.
About a half an hour later he was standing on the sidewalk in front of Isleman's house. It was a pretty typical little home; five small concrete steps with a thin, black railing led up to its slim front. All the houses in the neighborhood were placed closely, so the size of the house was in its length, hidden by its proximity to the houses next door. At any other time it would have been a boring, white, modest little home, but it was alive at the moment. The two front windows glowed yellow with bright light, and the occasional shadow moved over the thin curtains. He heard the gentle hum and thump of music, the buzz of discussion, and some laughter.
He didn't realize he had been just standing there, staring, until light burst forth as the front door opened. Isleman held a beer bottle in one hand, his other arm was outstretched in greeting.
Copyright © 2016 by Erin Dunbar
All rights reserved. No part of these publications may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.


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The Patagonia Men's Performance Straight Fit Jeans is a pair of jeans for the active guy. If you're the kind of guy that lives in denim, but is always ready for adventure, give these a try. With stretch built in, you can do a little bouldering, take a hike, pretend you know how to do parkour, all in the same jeans you put on in the morning. The COOLMAX® fabric helps manage moisture so you stay comfy even as you heat up. A durable water repellent finish allows a light rain to bead up and shed right off, so it won't soak in and you can continue on with all the outdoor fun.
So sorry, but only 4 items are allowed for comparison, so we're comparing the first 4. I blame the gnomes and so should you.
Would you like to compare the products you have selected now?


text: Does anyone know a good setup for a canon C300 markii to be used in a permanent studio setting? I am planning to get a few C300 markiis and canon 17-120 servos to go with them. I need a set up to constantly power the camera, lens, and a monitor that uses sony L batteries (probably an atomos flame). Since I will be using the SDI out to connect to my Blackmagic ATEM switcher I can run some other wires to power things, I just would like to not to have to use batteries I have to charge and replace.


text: bayindirh 0 Report post Posted January 31, 2016 Hello, I'm experiencing a repeatable bug (crash) on the latest version of CameraBag 2.8.01 on Mac. I'm reporting it according to your template, below.What the bug is: CameraBag is crashing (in a reliable way) while saving a file. I expected it to save my file and continue, but the application crashed with a crash report (Which is attached).Steps to reproduce the bug:Open CameraBagLoad a file using the big "Load an Image" button on the screenMake adjustments with love, see results with amazementGo to File, click Save As... Select any format (PNG and JPEG has guaranteed results), Click Save...Select somewhere you cannot save (e.g. select the root of your hard drive)Click save Boom.System details:CameraBag 2.8.01 (EP)OS X 10.11.3 "El Capitan"MacBook Retina 15", Mid 2014 (Complete system specs are here)System is formatted with case sensitive file system.Other details: Nothing to note. CameraBag 2.8.01 Crash Report.txt Share this post Link to post Share on other sites


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Kabul: The International Monetary Fund is
recommending that Afghanistan`s troubled Kabul Bank be placed
into receivership and then be quickly sold off.
The IMF made the recommendations in a statement late
yesterday, following a visit by fund officials. It says Afghan
authorities should put together a "transparent, credible and
fully financed" plan to settle problems at the country`s
largest bank.
The IMF says placing Kabul Bank into receivership "a
type of bankruptcy" is "the most appropriate mechanism" for
resolving problems at the bank.
Kabul Bank has been hounded by allegations of
mismanagement, cronyism and questionable lending.
Afghanistan`s Central Bank took control in mid-September,
following a run on the lender.


text:
Lady Gaga Heads to New York After Wrapping Tour in Paris
Lady Gaga looks ravishing in red while stepping out of the Bristol Hotel on Tuesday (November 25) in Paris, France.
The 28-year-old singer blew a kiss to her fans camped outside the hotel as she got into her car and headed to the airport.
"Goodbye Paris, Hello New York! Time to sing some jazz with my Tony!🎺❤" Gaga captioned a photo on Instagram.
Gaga is most likely about to start rehearsals with Tony Bennett for their New Year's Eve concert in Las Vegas next month. They will also have many shows throughout the next year!


text:
We help SME transporters become self-sustainable.
Our business offers equity through a new transport business model that empowers transporters with ownership, skills development and entrepreneurship.
This new model enables wealth distribution which empowers disadvantaged communities to compete with corporate companies that have been dominating the transport industry in South Africa for the past century.
Our tech-prototype in ten months distributed R700 000 to 15 SME transporters, thus impacting their employees and communities.
We are able to impact many more lives upon developing our technology and business model.


text:
Presidio Loop Trail is a 3.6 mile loop trail located near San Francisco, California that offers scenic views and is rated as moderate. The trail offers a number of activity options and is accessible year-round. Dogs are also able to use this trail but must be kept on leash.
dogs on leash
nature trips
trail running
This charming trail offers seclusion, natural wonders, and historic and cultural variety of the Presidio. Stunning views can be found on this short trip through forests and grasslands and along coastal bluffs. The Bay Area Trail and Anza Loop circumnavigate the Presidio Golf course
Great run. First time I've gone running in forever, but was able to run/jog about 60% and walked the other 40%. In all it took me about 45 minutes. Definitely a challenging run with elevation changes, but also really nice scenery. I'll for sure do this trail again in the near future.
Mostly paved, along roads. Starts strong, with views and wooded paths, but peters out quickly.
When turning into golf club and café head for the first right hand parking lot – the trailhead is on the right side of that lot. The hike was a bit longer than expected though well worth it. If you have a pet-the Park Trail shortcut is not possible due to Coyote warnings. Requires a little navigation to make the loop. Much of the trail is through-woods. You will cross a few roads and walk along the road a short way and through residential neighborhoods toward the end of the hike to pick up the last portion that goes through the cemetery. We walked slowly and took breaks with our dog and it took about two hours. A few minor uphill and down hills. Moderate hike is a good assessment. Views at the top...of the Marin headlands are outstanding! Bring a camera! Unexpected crossing underneath Presidio Boulevard which we have never done! Lots of other hikers along the way. The final 1/2 mile is uphill...behind Mountain Lake Park. If you are tired-take one of the set of steps on the right, to cut through the dog park at the top of the mountain lake park which puts you out at around 8th Avenue and Lake Street; for pick up by whomever you hiked with that parked at the trailhead. It's about 8 blocks from there;)
A good city trail to hike with my dog.
Great for an easy city trek!
Good trail, lots of people
This really serves as multiple trailheads in one. Beginning at a fitness course, you can follow the short loop for a great outdoor workout, or continue through and past Presidio Golf Course (great incline variation for runners) and all around. Lots of options from this starting point!
Nice walk in the woods.


text:
About us
Calling Romeo
by Alexandra Potter
Category: Fiction / General
368 pages; ISBN: 074347032X
Rating: 8/10 (Ratings explained)
Reviewer: Harriet Klausner
Calling Romeo
Alexandra Potter
Downtown Press, Feb 2004, $13.00, 368pp
In London, Juliet and Will have been seeing one another for over two years and have lived together for the past eighteen months. However, she is increasingly becoming disillusioned with Will's selfish tendencies towards his new landscaping business. Currently, she waits for him to meet her at a bar before they are to go out to celebrate Valentine's Day, but he fails to arrive. She assumes he forgot being preoccupied with his work rather than her, but instead unbeknownst to her he fell asleep. Juliet turns to her pal Trudy for a chick lit whine (no cheese).
Several drinks later, a drunken Juliet, vowing to never forgive Will, goes to the Gents room to take a leak. The stranger with the sophisticated voice offers her toilet paper and himself in that order. Sykes, the creative director of a rival company, takes Juliet to Italy while Will mopes over his loss. Sykes showers the love starved Juliet with attention that Romeo would envy, but though she enjoys every fun filled moment, Juliet wonders if like a Shirelle, is she a lasting treasure or just a moment's pleasure?
Though the ending seems phony due to an easy resolution, fans will enjoy this English contemporary romance filled with amusing acerbic comments about male shortcomings (physically and emotionally). Readers will feel for Juliet when she comes across insecure, but also be upset with her selfish outlook. Will seems pathetic especially when compared to his rival Sykes; so the former gets empathy. In all, the audience will enjoy the lighthearted CALLING ROMEO.
Harriet Klausner
Buy Calling Romeo at amazon.com
Copyright & Disclaimer


text:
Red Hat Bugzilla – Bug 68870
getca not working
Last modified: 2007-04-18 12:44:10 EDT
Description of Problem:
getca hostname not working. It returns error: "/usr/bin/getca: cd:
%SERVERROOT%/conf/ssl/certs: No such file or directory". %SERVERROOT%b is not
Version-Release number of selected component (if applicable):
Stronghold 4
How Reproducible:
Steps to Reproduce:
1. install SH4 for AS
2. use getca
Actual Results:
Error message As above
Expected Results:
Additional Information:
The getca problem is due to the openssl configuration file expecting more fields
than are being provided by genkey. /usr/bin/genreq and getcert and others also
have incorrect % expansions.
Change this bug to be for Stronghold 4.0 for Red Hat Advance Server instead of
Stronghold for Red Hat Linux.
An errata has been issued which should help the problem described in this bug report.
This report is therefore being closed with a resolution of ERRATA. For more information
on the solution and/or where to find the updated files, please follow the link below. You may reopen
this bug report if the solution does not work for you.


text:
Republican presidential candidate and former Texas Governor Rick Perry strongly criticized fellow candidate Donald Trump for his remarks about Senator John McCain (R-AZ) at Saturday's Family Leadership Summit in Iowa.
Perry's discussion began with Frank Luntz asking the audience who they would invest in the most between teachers, nurses, and veterans. Perry then expressed his desire to answer the question. He stated, "if you don't first keep this country free. If you don't first have the investment in the men and women who are willing their hand up and say, 'Here am I, send me,' You will never have the dollars to hire the teacher. You will never have the dollars to hire a nurse."
Perry then switched subjects, saying, "driving back in here, I heard something that was as disturbing to me as I've heard in this entire process, of running for the presidency of the united states. And there was an individual who stood, — or sat upon this stage earlier today, who doesn't understand or doesn't care about people who serve this country. To disparage a legitimate American hero like John McCain, you may disagree with his politics, and that's fine. I tell people all the time, it's okay to question your government, but don't question the men and women of the military who sacrificed, and sometimes pay a huge price for our safety and our freedom and our economics. As an individual who has worn the uniform of this country, I was highly offended by what Donald Trump said about John McCain and his years of sacrifice in a dirty, dingy, terrible prison in North Vietnam. Donald Trump owes every American veteran, and in particular John McCain, an apology. So, to finish that thought up, I think it makes Iowans very wise, in being able to identify that without a strong military, without our ability to defend and protect these values of this ordinary country that we live in, that America is lost. And I want to say thank you to every one of you who've worn the uniform of this country, that are wearing the uniform of this country today, or those of you who have helped raise great and extraordinary patriots. Thank you for your gift to this country."
Perry was then asked, "If Donald Trump does not apologize to John McCain, do you feel that that disqualifies him as a legitimate presidential candidate? He answered, "And as the commander-in-chief in this country, in one word, yes."
Trump issued a statement following his speech stating that he has, "great respect for all those who serve in our military including those that weren't captured and are also heroes."
Follow Ian Hanchett on Twitter @IanHanchett


text:
Echoes of the North
Hvaldi Blackfeather
Hvaldi Blackfeather is the chief character in the Echoes of the North
Hvaldi Blackfeather is quite large for a Dwarf. He is strongly built with muscle gained from hard toil and training. He is dark of feature with long brown, almost black hair and dark eyes. He tends to wear a helmet or a hood as he is unused to the full glare of the Sun. That being said, he has grown rather tanned due to his recent extensive travels on the surface.
His armor is rather heavy and his large, hexagonal shield has seen much use as evinced by the many carefully tended nicks, dings, knocks and all manner of blemishes. He wields a large one-handed hammer with an ornate wooden haft that seems to shine dully. His armor bears many artistic flourishes depicting Ravens and dark feathers. His crest is three black feathers upon a field of white.
Hvaldi is tired. Tired of constantly being berated by his fellow Dwarfs of the Lonely Mountain. Tired of constantly enduring the scorn attached to the name "Blackfeather." And exceedingly tired of having to work a never-ending stream of menial tasks and jobs while his skills as a warrior and a smith go to waste.
After one final argument with his father in which Hvaldi was disowned and barred from keeping in touch with his family Hvaldi left. He has decided to set out and see the world, hopefully earn some coin and most certainly escape the cloud that shrouds the name Blackfeather. His sister, married outside of the Blackfeathers, is his only contact and through her he still gets word to and from his Mother.
After taking up with Baern and friends, Hvaldi has been regularly engaged in trying to further the aims of pacifying and retaking the North, Baern's ancestral homeland and potential kingdom. He adventures with his friends while keeping a journal and sending the occasional letter back to his Sister in the Lonely Mountain.
Since his last adventures, Hvaldi has turned from adventuring and has become quite the homebody. He is married to Dumora, formerly of the Ravenheart clan from the Iron Hills. With her he has had a son, Khat and two daughters, Geerta and Charlotte. He is surrounded by family and friends and the settlement at Ravenhill is growing nicely. Dumora has even found time to play some of her works in Erebor and happily drives him mad when she is working on a new piece. She will not share it with him until it is finished but she will try it out with the Ravens in the great tower, much to their delight. Hvaldi has found happiness but it has been 15 years now and the storm-clouds of current events seem to gather.
He does not want to leave but it seems that the world is swirling towards some kind of climax and he knows that if his friends call, he will take up his hammer and shield once again.


text:
Animation that I love:
Mulan, Anastasia, The Lion King, The Prince of Egypt, The Road to Eldorado, Spirited Away, How to Train Your Dragon
If I could criticize anything about this film it would be the name. The name does not tell you that the movie is in fact a really funny and sweet story with excellent character dynamics.
The character dynamics really carry the story. The voice work of Emma Stone and Ryan Reynolds is absolutely fantastic.
The only drag on the film was the patriarchial father character, but past that it was a really enjoyable movie that I will watch again.
The Croods is truly funny and reminds us that the best movies have some of the best characters.


text:
Iguanas Forum
Click Here To Register and Become A Member Of The RepticZone Family
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Elements Cphill58 Elements Cphill58
View Profile
Iguana having Night terrors/Nightmares
Hey Everyone,
I figured asking on a forum would be a great idea before heading back to the vet. My other half is the primary care giver of our Red Iguana, we've had him or her for about six months. I think it's a "She" so going to continue with that....
She has been a great companion and very good little iggy, we let her roam free in our apartment and have the top part of a desk setup with a food and water bowl. We have a towel laid out with the Sun light thingy that cost way to much so she can bask. The iguana has really taken a liking to my wife and tolerates me and of course the dog... but she has crawled all over our pup so ... I think that should be fine.
Anyways the situation: the iguana has been sleeping in our bed, typically on our pillows or my wife. This has been constant every night event for at least the last four months if not five. About two weeks ago we were woken up to the iggy "freaking out" and I'll explain. She would come out of a deep sleep in total panic race around the blanket and pillows jump onto the bed table slamming into things... truly running aimlessly as to get away from a predator. When my wife tried to get her and calm her down she wouldn't stop and left some gnarly scratches on her hands and arm. We watched her run into a corner of the next room and slowly calm down. After that was a good thirty minutes of my wife trying to calm the iggy down talking, offering food, the towel from the desk... ( Also noting the iguanas color went from red to white all over her body ). Around 30 minutes after this started the iggy did calm down and return to her natural state of jumping on my wifes shoulder and staring at random objects without a care in the world.
This morning will be the third time this has happened in the past two weeks, again repeating the above steps.... around 30 minutes and back to normal....
There hasn't been any changes, no friends over or family or pets.... the temp has been the same.... The nightmares however do seem to be a little random they start from maybe two hours after she falls asleep to 6 or more hours.
Any advice or direction would be great, and to clarify we took the iggy to the vet maybe the second or third week we owned her for a swollen jaw - turned out to be an abscess tooth which was treated and fully recovered. ( This was about 5 months ago ) every thing has been great up to this point.
|09/06/15 08:36am
View Profile
Message To: Elements In reference to Message Id: 2314833
Iguana having Night terrors/Nightmares
This is certainly a first...never heard of this before in my 10 years of experience.
It's possible that is having a recurring memory of abuse or maybe off chance...a neurological disorder that is or can be life long.
I don't suppose your wife will consider putting it in an enclosure at night?
Might be safer...you could try and see for a few days / week.
Iguanas are more intelligent than many assume...so who knows what it might be thinking. A stuffed animal and a soft blanket may be the answer also.
Don't be boxed in by conventional thinking.
|09/16/15 01:13pm
View Profile
Message To: Cphill58 In reference to Message Id: 2314906
Iguana having Night terrors/Nightmares
Thank you very much for your feedback,
We've been trying to rule a few things out and sadly we think the issue is known. A few hours before each of these episodes
there has been a traumatizing event. We trimmed his/her nails which it really really didn't care for we would have to wrap him in a shirt and do it quick and smooth, but we would reward em with a treat afterwards. Since then we stopped cutting his/her nails and it sleeps like a baby... in fact today I woke up with the dog and lil iggy sleeping on my wifes side of the bed. So now we are trying to line up his/her walk way with sand paper and bricks for climbing on our furniture so that will widdle his/her nails down.
Thank you very much for the advice if it happens again we are going to try an enclosed area.
|09/16/15 01:55pm
View Profile
Message To: Elements In reference to Message Id: 2314909
Iguana having Night terrors/Nightmares
Well I must say that is interesting and I am glad the event is over... Must be extremely cute to see wife, dog, and iggy all cuddled up to say the least. We also trim the nails, fortunately we don't have to wrap and restrict the movement.
If you are on facebook c'mon over to IGUANA OWNERS and click the join button...pictures are always welcome
|09/17/15 12:43pm


text:
42' 2013 Marquis Sport Bridge
Twin Volvo IPS 600 435hp, 160 Hours, Aggregio Metallic Hull Color, IPS Joystick, Raymarine Autopilot, Twin Raymarine E127 GPS/Fish (Bridge), Twin Raymarine E127 GPS/Fish (Lower Station), Raymarine Super HD Open Array Radar 4kW, Hydraulic Swim Platform, Cockpit Refrigerator, Teak Cockpit Decking Package, Forward Sunpad w/ Cushion, Premium Stereo Upgrade, Bridge Stereo, High Gloss Cherry Wood Interior, Kohler Generator 13.0 kW.
For more information contact
Greg Terraglio | email@example.com | 772-214-2393
The Marquis 420 Sport Bridge is designed by the noted firm of Nuvolari-Lenard Naval Architects of Venice, Italy, the 420 is a highly styled, ultra premium quality vessel that features a sleek, spacious and comfortable bridge.
This open bridge is the perfect feature for people who love to operate their yacht surrounded by sunshine and sea breeze and it complements the open concept of the yacht's galley, salon, cockpit and swim platform. If open spaces, fresh air and sunshine are at the top of your list, the Marquis 420 Sport Bridge was designed and built with you in mind.
The décor is very stylish and contemporary and it's constructed from the finest wood and yacht building materials available. Construction quality is impeccable because the yacht was built by Marquis, America's most experienced and meticulous yacht builders.The 420 Sport Bridge bulkheads and cabinets can be constructed from a variety of hardwoods and décor can be chosen to reflect an owner's personal taste and style.
The 420 Sport Bridge reflects the present state of art in contemporary yacht design and construction. Thus, the hull form and construction has been specifically designed to maximize the benefits of twin pod drives. Power is provided by dual Volvo Penta diesel engines affixed to integrated IPS pods. At maneuvering speed these pod are controlled by a single joy stick at the helm and provide precise, intuitive control.
250 SW Monterey Road
Stuart, FL 34994
United States


text:
Blacksmith Cellars
2004 Alexander Valley
Composition: 91% Cabernet Franc; 5% Cabernet Sauvignon; 3% Merlot; 1% Petit Verdot
Harvest: September-October 2004; Sugar: 24.5-26.5 Brix; Total Acid: 0.54; PH: 3.97
Fermentation: 16-day small batch fermentation; Punched down four times daily
Alcohol: 14.5% by Vol
Aging: 100% French Oak; 70% new oak; 30% 2-year old white wine barrels
Bottling Date: March 2006
Release Date: May 15, 2006
Production: 50 Cases (750 ml)
Vineyard: The fruit for Blacksmith Cellars Alexander Valley Adamantine comes from the Skipstone Ranch Vineyard. This small secluded patch of hillside produces low crops with small berries for great varietal intensity. The Cabernet Franc from this vineyard is truly amazing. The entire Cab Franc block produces about 1.5 tons of fruit.
Cellar Practices and Winemaking: Fermented in 1-ton bins and gently punched down by hand to ensure high-quality tannins. The Cabernet Franc is stored in 100% new Oak for 3 months to reduce vegetal character. It is then transferred to 2 year old white wine barrels allowing it to achieve perfect varietal expression. The final blend is developed using the best barrels of each varietal. The wine expresses highlights of tobacco, licorice, and lavender. The mouth feel is rich and lush with a lingering finish.


text:
Starbucks: We want to hire more refugees
January 31, 2017 by norman lebrecht
From a Howard Schultz message to Starbucks partners:
We have a long history of hiring young people looking for opportunities and a pathway to a new life around the world. This is why we are doubling down on this commitment by working with our equity market employees as well as joint venture and licensed market partners in a concerted effort to welcome and seek opportunities for those fleeing war, violence, persecution and discrimination. There are more than 65 million citizens of the world recognized as refugees by the United Nations, and we are developing plans to hire 10,000 of them over five years in the 75 countries around the world where Starbucks does business. And we will start this effort here in the U.S. by making the initial focus of our hiring efforts on those individuals who have served with U.S. troops as interpreters and support personnel in the various countries where our military has asked for such support.
More here.
Next Article Previous Article
Comments (4)
Alleged refugees are not "citizens".
Sorry, but didn't Starbucks go belly up? Nice metaphor. Their politics might be impeccable but their coffee is TERRIBLE.
"Impeccable politics" ??? Their politics are typical US imperialist/corporate; new work force to pay low 'wages'
.Does Starbucks pay commensurate taxes?
Because they're cheap.


text: Oxymetholone 50 mg , a synthetic testosterone derivative, was orally administered to 3 women 28 3. 1 2-Methyl and 2-hydroxymethylene-androstane derivatives Ringols J et al J Am Chem Soc 1959;81 427-32. ongoing ear drainage. Chemical Name 17 hydroxy-2-hydroxymethylene-17-methyl-5 androstan-3-one. Complete blood count CBC. winstrol and prohormone Too rapid infusion could result in loss of amino acids through the ciclo de winstrol stanozolol kidneys, and thus, to the amino acid imbalance. any side that you ever heard of steroids maybe having, you can expect with anadrol, the stuff is the ciclo de winstrol stanozolol devil But works great for some. Anabolic Androgenic Ratio 62 25. Anadrol-50 Side Effects. Builds Lean Muscle Mass. Masteron also is useful in combination with ciclo de winstrol stanozolol testosterone for self-prescribed hormone-replacement therapy HRT For example, 100 mg week each of Masteron and testosterone can be superior for physique benefits to 200 mg week testosterone alone, while being milder in side effects due to lower resulting levels of estradiol estrogen and DHT. THE IDEAL CHOICES FOR THE STACKING OF ANADROLE. Anadrol has the side winstrol v anavar effect of making its pairing with other bulking hormones more effective The Anadrol compound does a very poor job of binding to the androgen receptor As a result, there will be a lot of free floating molecules in your system This winstrol v 30ml stanozolol 50mg is great as it will provide benefits without taking up all the space that other bulking agents could use While this makes it absolutely fantastic for bulking, it also makes it a terrible choice for cutting..


text:
Available in 3cc, 5cc, 10cc, 30cc, and 55cc capacities, Nordson EFD syringe barrels are molded from a proprietary blend of polypropylene, to provide exceptional clarity and chemical compatibility.
Nordson syringe barrels and pistons are manufactured in EFD's own certified silicone-free facilities in the United States and are certified for industrial use.
Types of EFD Syringe Barrels
Clear Syringe Barrels
These industrial-grade syringe barrels made from a clear polymer are manufactured to precise tolerances for general purpose use, making them ideal for all assembly fluids except light-sensitive materials.
Amber Syringe Barrels
These UV blocking barrels block UV and visible light wavelengths up to 550 nm, while allowing fluid levels to be monitored.
Opaque Black Syringe Barrels
These syringe barrels provide complete light blockage for light sensitive fluids.
Green Syringe Barrels
Nordson EFD's syringe barrels are produced with transparent green color in order to provide a visual aide to identify different materials in production environments making them perfect for packaging lead-free solder paste.
ESD-Safe Syringe Barrels
Made from a non-carbon, inert material, our ESD-safe syringe barrels prevent static buildup when dispensing assembly fluids used in manufacturing electronics, such as mobile devices, medical devices, fiber optics, and more.
Unity™ HiTemp™ Syringe Barrels
These 30cc capacity disposable barrels are designed for use with hot melt adhesives at temperatures up to 180° C (356° F). They are compatible with Nordson's Unity IC Series and Unity PURJet™ 30 systems, as well as with standard industry hot melt dispensers. Unity barrel benefits include more reliable, repeatable dispensing in addition to reduced downtime and cost of ownership.


text:
Dear users and visitors,
this website has been migrated to a new one hosted by EURO.
Please, visit our new website for updated contents:
Soon this website will be not available anymore.
VeRoLog team
Please find here the call for applications for a position of Research Assistant /Post-Doc
at the Chair of Logistics Management of the J. Getemberg University of Mainz, Germany.
more details are in the attached pdf or can be obtained by Stefan Irnich and Michael Drexl.
Special Issue of
International Journal of Production Research on Transportation in Supply Chain Management
Guest Editors
Teodor Gabriel Crainic (email@example.com)
Chair in Logistics Management
Université du Québec à Montréal, Canada
Gilbert Laporte (firstname.lastname@example.com)
A call for applications is now open for 8 PhD fellowships in the PhD program 'Analytics for economics and business (AEB)', co-organized by the Universities of Bergamo and Brescia. Operations research is one of the areas the winners may choose to specialize in. The deadline for applications is August 20, 2014. For details on how to apply, follow the link
Job title: 2 Postdoc and 2 PhD-positions in Managing Cash Supply Chains
Fte:1.0 each
VU unit:Faculty of Economics and Business Administration Vacancy number: 14220
Date of publication: June 19, 2014
Closing date:July 31, 2014
for more detail see the attached document
The 2014 edition of the VeRoLog Doctoral Dissertation Award has been assigned to
Magnus Stalhane
The final results of the First VeRoLog Solver Challenge, sponsored by PTV, have been communicated by the jury during the closing ceremony of the Oslo Conference.
The final evaluation was conducted on two new large instances with three variants each and the score considered for each team was the average score obtained with four different runs of the code.
The winner team resulted which was awarded a diploma, a thropy and 1000 Euro
1st place: Team n. 1, KU Leuven, Belgium, leader J. Christiaens
The podium also included
Sixth International Workshop on Freight Transportation and Logistics
June 1-5 2015, Ajaccio, Corsica, France
url: http://odysseus2015.sciencesconf.org
Dear Friends,
this is to remind you that the dealine for the early registration for the Verolog 2014 conference expires on April 30, 2014...
further details can be found at the conference website!
Don't miss this excellent opportunity to join the VeRoLog community and to enjoy the fantastic work done by the orgnizing team !
The winners of the Verolog Doctoral Dissertation Prize and of the Verolog Solver Challenge will be announced at the opening ceremony !
I Look forward to see you in Oslo !
AIRO the Italian Association for Operations Research has launched a prize for application-oriented papers.
please find the details at the following link:
looking forward to see a routing paper as award winner !
Due to an incredible success with tens of participants from all Europe we are forced
to close the registration some days in Advance !
the origanizers
VeRoLog is happy to announce a two-day mini School on VRP to be held in Bologna, May 5-6, 2014.
Lecturers are Olli Braysy, Roberto Baldacci and Daniele Vigo.
No registration fee but registration required before April 5, 2014.
more details in the attached document
Daniele Vigo


text: HAGERSTOWN — Led by Josh Barron's four goals, the Washington County Northstars blew Linganore out of the Hagerstown Ice & Sports Complex on Monday, 13-1. Barron wasted no time in making his presence known, earning a hat trick in the first period. Barron later scored with 2 seconds to go in the second period. He also had two assists. Linganore (2-7-1) got on the board with 9:08 left in the first on a Colin Maggi goal, but from there it was all Washington County. Drew Brooks led the second period with two goals while Travis Biggs and Michael DiMercurio each added one for a 7-1 lead heading into the third. "They've really been picking up the pieces and putting together good games, even with some players out," said Northstars coach Jamie Blackwood. "Sean Kreps has been out with an illness along with a few other guys, but they're still stepping up to play hard." The third period was Arizona Zervas' time as the senior forward came alive with a hat trick in the final frame. Brooks also registered a hat trick, scoring with 14:14 left in the game. "The last two state championships have really kept us going," said Zervas. "We just want to keep playing to be the best team we can be. I have great teammates. Even when we're not doing so well or dealing with injuries, we find a way to pick it up." Biggs and DiMercurio each finished with two goals. Alimzhan Yakhuzov also scored for Washington County. "Overall they overachieve. They find ways to win. And tonight they played well for our guest, school superintendent Dr. Clayton Wilcox," said Blackwood. "We're still hoping the county will consider hockey for a varsity sport." In action earlier Monday, the Northstars defeated Walt Whitman, 9-1.