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Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Lets Talk Marinara
We never ate Marinara in my house. Mom always ridiculed any cook's sauce that did not take three hours or more to cook. This is funny because our island traditions do not really lean toward very long cooked sauces. This is more distinctly Sicilian. Northern versions would be like a Bolognese sauce. That does not mean that it does not exist elsewhere, but it is most commonly found in those places. When I describe Mom's sauce, Italian-Americans of southern origin generally say,"Oh, yeah, we call that gravy." Hurray for the Italian-American traditions and names. Grammie did do simple sauces. It is one of those little tragedies that I talk about so often that I was not old enough to remember her cooking on a grand scale. When I was a kid and she lived upstairs from us, she had the little apartment stove, perhaps cooked sauce in tiny portions for herself, but often ate with us. It was not necessary for her to cook sauce that often. I,like a loyal Momma's Boy did not taste her sauce ever, that I remember. (IDIOT)
I have listened to many recipes from friends, read dozens of cookbooks, seen dozens of TV shows and eaten hundreds of pounds of other people's pasta dishes over the years. This is what I have gleaned from those sources, a simple Marinara sauce.
I would love to hear about your variations on this theme. I will include a few suggestions for variations at the end.
Chop one large onion into medium dice
Fry in plenty of olive oil at a very low temperature till the onions clear and then just start to brown.
Just before the caramelizing begins add two or three finely chopped or crushed cloves of garlic.*
Add one tablespoon of sugar(to taste), salt (to taste), black pepper(to taste) and one 28 ounce can of crushed tomatoes. I would prefer chopped or diced tomato, but usually these contain Calcium Citrate. The problem with this is that the preservative does not allow the tomatoes to break down as they cook in the way that a fresh tomato would. Italians use mostly canned tomatoes, just as we would. Fresh tomato can be out of season there just as here. San Marzano tomatoes, both fresh and canned, are the best to use. Substitute fresh chopped tomatoes if you prefer, but cherry tomatoes are sublime.**
Bring the sauce to a boil and reduce the temperature so that the sauce just simmers. Simmer for ten minutes or so. Longer cooking will reduce acidity, but may not be traditional.
In the last few minutes of cooking, add a handful of whole, chopped or torn Basil leaves. You may use dried Basil(earlier in the cooking), but this is absolutely inferior. The Basil should cook only enough to release the oils from the leaves.
Serve in any application you like with Parmesan, Ricotta Salata, Grana Padano or Pecorino Romano cheese. This might be a good opportunity to use the grating cheese you often see in the Salumeria with peppercorns all through it. The sauce is so simple, it may show up well.
Melt two anchovy fillets in the oils as the onion finishes cooking.
Add black olives or possibly even green if you are serving the sauce with fish.
Add capers, also particularly good with fish.
Add ground almonds.
Add mushrooms to the sauce as it begins to boil.
Stir in fried or grilled eggplant, Zucchini or other cooked vegetables.
Bake fish fillets or Sardines or Italian Herring under a layer of the sauce or just cook in the sauce as it simmers.
Drop in whole peeled shrimp, mussels or clams in the last few minutes of cooking, but cover tightly to steam.(try grated lemon peel and pepperoncino flakes with it)
Stir in Pepperoncini before you add the tomato.
Dry bread crumbs or fresh, sauteed in oil (with or without pepperoncini) sometimes top the final sauced dish instead of cheese.
Fry cuts of meat, pepperoni or sausage in the pan. Remove the meat, and make the sauce on top of the pan brownings. Scrape the brown bits into the sauce as you cook it. Serve the meat separately, or return it to the sauce during the simmering time. Remove the meat and serve as a secondo. Salami does not make a good meat for sauce unless you find salami Piccante from an Italian grocer. This is actually a pepperoni.
Many of the above or combinations of the above have specific names in Italy such as: Puttanesca, Norma, Arrabiata(mad sauce), Con Sarde, Cacciatore etc.
* Just a note about cooking garlic. Use fresh garlic cloves whenever you can. The longer you hold the garlic, the more likely they are to sprout a bit. If you cut the garlic cloves, you may notice the green sprout in the center of the clove. This sprout will be a little more bitter than a fresher clove. If you must use it, remove the sprout before you cut it any further. You might like the sprout minced very fine, fresh, in a dressing or just to eat. If you do want to cook it, it should be just barely wilted at a very low temperature.
** Prepare your fresh tomatoes by cutting a tiny X in just the skin of the tomatoes at the flower end. Plunge the tomatoes a couple at a time into a pan of rapidly boiling water. The skin will split from the X and loosen slightly from the tomato. Lift the tomato out with a slotted spoon, and plunge into cold water, or pick them up with a fork stuck in the stem end. Peel them with your thumb and the edge of a knife. Put the tomatoes aside to cool in a bowl. When cool enough to handle, cut the tomatoes in half horizontally and clean out the seeds with your finger. You may wish to put them into a soup or stock to be strained out later. If they have not cooked too long in the hot water, you might also spread them out in the sun to dry for planting later. The amount of heat will determine the viability of the seed though.
Now the flesh of the tomatoes may be chopped and used for cooking. Include any juices that can be saved.
I like smooth sauces. I do not like big chunks of slimy tomato in my sauce. I use canned tomato as most Italians do, but I crush the tomato so that the sauce does not have tomato slugs floating around in it.(Stewed tomatoes are the worst! However, if you mash them up they can be OK.) On the other hand, I do not mind the tomato in big chunks if it is not cooked to that slime consistency, and retains some of its fresher tomato character. You must decide for yourself how you like the finished character to be and what you remember from home. I think that the bottom line for me is that if it is on pasta, I like it smooth...if it is on a slice of grilled bread, topping a cutlet, slab of grilled zucchini, eggplant or something like that, chunky is great. I hate eating a plate of spaghetti and finding the chunks of tomato on the bottom because it did not stick. The whole point of the pasta is to make a uniform dish, so how does it work if all the chunky tomato slides off. That is not to say that it is no fun to mop the left over sauce with a piece of bread...one of food's greatest pleasures.
So here I am...on a diet...there is a big pot of vegetable stew on the stove. Now, all I can think about is a big plate of spaghetti and a chunk of bread dipped in olive oil and pepperoncino with Parmesan!!!!!!! Now where is my bread recipe?...Maybe I can burn off some caolries if I bake some bread.
Posted by Bill Mitchell at 8:59 AM
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How Not To Rewrite Nigeria's Music History
For a lot of millennials born at the onset of the internet explosion, especially those whose sense of Nigeria's past is shaped by social media, an accuracy of the past, the little they know of it, is sometimes shaky.
And for Generation Z'ers and those before them, who were schooled by grandparents and parents, through traditional lores and history, the need to educate errant 'children of nowadays' is a task that must be undertaken.
The reason is not far-fetched. Allowing those with a distorted sense of history rewrite the very history they do not understand is tantamount to burying the past under the dust of ignorance.
So when famed culture critic and journalist Molara Wood recently corrected the notion that Wizkid is the first Nigerian music act to sell out shows in the United Kingdom, her message on Twitter was clear- "the ignorant kill their own god."
Wood's poignant, yet realistic statement, reflects how the popularity of Afrobeats, itself welcomed by the bastardisation of Fela's Afrobeat, has limited young people's appreciation of the Nigerian music legend that put the country's name on the map of world music before the present band of music stars.
"It was impossible in [the] UK a few years ago for a Naija act to headline a festival", a Nigerian @moelahjr living in the UK tweeted on March 27, along with a poster of The Ends Festival featuring Wizkid as one of the headliners.
That the tweet was retweeted 726 times and got 280 likes showed that many agreed with his sentiment. That is why Wood's three-tweet thread was (and is still important).
Before Wizkid, Davido and Olumide became a few of the biggest exports Nigeria gave to the world, I.K Dairo, King Sunny Ade, Ayinde Barrister and Fela Kuti headlined festivals and played in multiple cities in single tours.
While Fela's oeuvre and lifestyle are still influential in present-day Nigeria – perhaps because of the accessibility foisted on his music by the Nigerian Pidgin – King Sunny Ade's impact and records have gone largely underappreciated.
Unjustly so.
KSA Syncro System fetched him a Grammy nomination in 1983, seven years before Wizkid was born, nine before the birth of Davido and three years after Tiwa Savage was born. That made KSA the first ever Nigerian to be nominated for the award.
That album was named among "Albums of the Year for 1983" by a British publication NME.
More importantly, KSA is credited by the New York Times with "starting the World Beat movement in the United States."
Like the Yoruba people would say, it is easy to boast of the mightiness of your father's farm if you have not seen anything bigger than it. To claim that the likes of Wizkid and others in his category were the best thing to ever happen to Nigerian music is rewriting the history upside down. That's not to discount their importance in expanding the frontiers of Nigeria's soft power in Africa and beyond.
The new generation might be selling out concert venues. But before them, others, in spite of the language barrier, did that, too.
The records are there for all to see – no amount of social media ignorance can erase them.

subset: commoncrawl


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How to Get the Most out of Your ParentTeacher Meeting
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Cruz 640-15
The Cruz 640-15 is a 15μ pixel pitch and 640x512 pixel format using an InSb (from SCD USA) detector and FLIR 0002 ROIC. This camera has an NEΔT of 30 milikelvin. This camera is ruggedized and tested to Mil-STD-810G and is qualified for gimbals and pan and tilt applications.
click here to download a datasheet


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Hotels in Hildesheim
20 Accommodations in Hildesheim
Novotel HildesheimHildesheim 699 m from city centre 337 reviews
Located in the heart of the city, the Novotel Hildesheim hotel is housed in a historical listed building and features a peaceful...
Van Der Valk Hotel HildesheimHildesheim 236 m from city centre 439 reviews
With a stay at Van der Valk Hotel Hildesheim, you'll be centrally located in Hildesheim, steps from Historic Market Place and Butchers...
Pension Landgasthof Zur Scharfen EckeHildesheim 4.3 km from city centre 0 reviews
With a stay at Landgasthaus zur scharfen Ecke in Hildesheim, you'll be close to University of Hildesheim and St. Mary's Cathedral. This...
Hotel Am SteinbergHildesheim 2.5 km from city centre 0 reviews
On the edge of the young city with ancient history, we want you in our 3-star hotel which has a total of 6 single and 22 double rooms,...
Hotel Ibis Styles HildesheimHildesheim 566 m from city centre 0 reviews
Hotel ibis Styles Hildesheim is in the heart of Hildesheim, walking distance from Hildesheim Town Hall and Butchers Guild Hall. This...
Hotel Deutsches HausHildesheim 571 m from city centre 0 reviews
We would like to warmly welcome you to the Deutsches Haus Gollart`s Hotel. Guests arriving by car are welcome to use the hotel's...
Hotel Itzumer PassHildesheim 5.1 km from city centre 0 reviews
Property Location With a stay at Hotel - Restaurant Itzumer Pass in Hildesheim, you'll be close to University of Hildesheim and St....
Parkhotel BerghölzchenHildesheim 1.8 km from city centre 0 reviews
Our entire staff would like to gladly welcome you to the Parkhotel Berghölzchen. Our hotel features plenty of parking spaces for its...
Hotel 1891 Hildesheim BoutiqueHildesheim 1.1 km from city centre 0 reviews
With a stay at 1891 hildesheim boutique hotel in Hildesheim, you'll be convenient to Hildesheim Town Hall and Church of St. Michael. This...
Concorde Hotel Schweizer HofHildesheim 240 m from city centre 0 reviews
The hotel offers 48 rooms (including a 45 m2 suite). They are all equipped with ensuite bathroom, hairdryer, telephone, cable TV and...
Berghotel BrockenblickHildesheim 3.5 km from city centre 0 reviews
Our whole staff would like to gladly welcome you to the Berghotel Brockenblick. Parking is not a problem at our hotel, we have lots of...
Osterberg-Restaurant & HotelHildesheim 3.1 km from city centre 27 reviews
Hotel zum Osterberg consists of 10 single bedrooms and 20 double bedrooms. Each one features a shower, sink, and a toilet. To make...
M&A CityhotelHildesheim 236 m from city centre 0 reviews
Business hours of reception: 24 hours The M&A Cityhotel Hildesheim is situated in the centre of the Cathedral town Hildesheim and in the...
Hotel Michaeliskloster TagungsstaetteHildesheim 624 m from city centre 0 reviews
We would like to proudly welcome you to the Tagungsstätte Michaeliskloster. Guests arriving by car are welcome to use the hotel's...
Hotel LindemannHildesheim 2.4 km from city centre 0 reviews
The three-star hotel is centrally located in Hildesheim. All major institutions, as well as the city's attractions, are easy to reach on...
Parkhotel BerghoelzchenHildesheim 1.7 km from city centre 55 reviews
Quiet first class hotel with 80 rooms located in a nature area near tourist attractions. Hotel offers quiet locationlarge conference...
Accommodations in HildesheimEnjoy your stay in Hildesheim. Make your visit to Hildesheim an unforgettable experience by staying in the hotel you deserve. Still don´t know where to stay? At Destinia we offer you a wide variety of hotels in Hildesheim, Germany, so you can choose the one that´s right for you, depending on your expectations and your budget. There are numerous hotels in Hildesheim that are ideal for a business trip, a family holiday, a weekend getaway or an outing with friends in Hildesheim. No matter the reason for your trip, at Destinia, you´ll find the greatest variety of hotels and hostels, always at the best prices, guaranteed. Are you looking for a deluxe hotel in Hildesheim city centre with a spa, Internet access or a pool? Perhaps a hotel that accepts pets or that has a child-care centre? We have that, too. Why not give our hotel finder a try? It´s quick, simple and the most effective way to find the best lodging in this part of Germany. Whether you need a single-occupancy room, double-occupancy room or even a suite, with Destinia´s search engine, you´ll always find the best deals, so all you´ll have to worry about is packing your bags and enjoying your trip to Hildesheim.
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In Hildesheim we will have moderate rain, warm clothing is advised. There will be a gentle wind which may cause the sensation of being cooler than 7°C.
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Searching for the optimum refrigerant with BITZER
Users are spoilt for choice when it comes to refrigerants. With its extensive product range, BITZER offers just the right solution for any application
Users are spoilt for choice when it comes to refrigerants. With its extensive product range, BITZER offers just the right solution for any application
Refrigerants: A conversation with BITZER Technical Programs Manager Hermann Renz
BITZER readies its customers for the challenges of the future with a diverse array of training at the SCHAUFLER Academy in Rottenburg, Germany
The day had finally arrived: it was 5 February, and the Year of the Pig had begun. Many hundreds of...
Australia's largest retail chain, Woolworths, has been committed to environmental protection for many years. In its supermarket near Sydney the company relies completely on CO₂ as a refrigerant and on BITZER reciprocating compressors
The eight ECOSTAR condensing units belonging to the dairy product manufacturer ensure that yoghurt and similar products are cooled perfectly, making Pulmuone Danone the first company in Korea to rely on ECOSTAR
More services and new training opportunities in northern Europe: the newly founded subsidiary, BITZER Nordic, helps customers in the north with all refrigeration-based issues
More than 120 BITZER compressors cool two of the largest malls in China with a cooling area of 600,000 tonnes
With its ammonia compressor packs, BITZER has launched a highly efficient and reliable compact screw compressor unit already used by customers around the world
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Join in and win: do you know what the following three pictographs mean? If so, send us an email with the right answers and win a BITZER softshell jacket
Protection from counterfeit products: BITZER will be printing QR codes on the packaging of its spare parts
25 years of BITZER and China: once again the refrigeration and air conditioning specialist was present at this year's China Refrigeration fair with a stand
Users can look behind the scenes at BITZER in seven new videos featuring video tutorials for new compressors, mounting instructions and interviews from Chillventa 2018
At the beginning of January 2019, BITZER and the automation expert Wurm paved the way for a successful future together
Nearly twice as much space as before: the BITZER Japan team has been working at a new office in the centre of Osaka since December 2018


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New Year's Eve is one of everyone's favorite holidays of the year. People look forward to sharing the moment with friends, family and even strangers. We look back on the year just coming to an end; all the good times and bad. Maybe we're feeling nostalgic about it, or happy to see it go. Either way, we all look forward to the hopefullness and possibilities with the coming of a the new year.
It's no different for all of us at Phare, The Cambodian Circus. We're feeling pretty good about all the awesome things that happened in 2018, and we look forward to what 2019 will bring.
There are many ways and places you can join the Phare artists to ring in the new year. By all means, start the evening in the iconic red big top at Phare, The Cambodian Circus for either the 5pm or the 8pm show on 31 December. There's no better way to cap off 2018.
Phare artists will also be on hand at a number of venues around Siem Reap to bring their unique vibe and energy to those New Year's Eve celebrations. Take a look at the options!
Sofitel Angkor Phokeethra
SOFITEL GARDENS – Our luxurious gardens and poolside will be transformed for a grandiose garden party. A truly memorable setting to celebrate new year's eve dinner offering Fine de Claire Oysters, Alaska King Crab, and a large selection of imported cheese.
Performers from the internationally acclaimed Phare Circus will provide incredible entertainment throughout the evening with theatre, music and live performances.
Park Hyatt Siem Reap
Adorned by the beautiful Banyan tree, illuminated by fairy lights, Park Hyatt Siem Reap's courtyard is the place to welcome the year 2019. Executive chef Theam Pisith creates a 5-course set-menu fit for the occasion. All dining guests will be given a glass of Champagne as we toast the new year.
Adding excitement to the occasion are performances from Phare, The Cambodian Circus, Apsara & Bokator, and to dance the night away are songs from the BatBangers headed by Sao Sony.
Celebrate Christmas and New Year amid outstanding beauty at Amansara, Siem Reap. Explore the fascinating history and culture of Cambodia through special performances as you indulge in fine festive fare.
For New Year's Eve, feast on fine fare as we take you on a journey through Cambodian performing arts. From traditional to contemporary, the country's ancient artistic heritage will be celebrated amid 10th century temple, Prasat Kravan
Phum Baitang
Phum Baitang − or 'the green village' − is a 5-star luxury resort near Siem Reap in Cambodia. Set within 8 acres of lush gardens, lemon-grass meadows and rice paddies, this elegant retreat is a gateway to the Angkor World Heritage Site and numerous natural and cultural wonders.
Phum Baitang will welcome you in lush green rice field and garden and a dinner to remember.
Song Saa Private Island
Created with sustainability in mind, Song Saa Private Island reflects the beauty of the Cambodian coastline. It's a place that breathes in time with nature, built from local materials, by local hands, and infused with local art and soul. An evolved tropical getaway with a pristine private beach, spacious wooden villas, heavenly spa sanctuaries and a preserved coral reef, Song Saa Private Island lets you detach from the world and tune into simple luxuries.


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weeks but I am so excited about it so I bumped it up!
I ordered Tattooed, Phyrra, Jessica Harlow Collection
Have you tried Glamour Doll Eyes?
If so, what are your favorite pigments?
What colors are must haves??
Thanks for reading!
You look beautiful! <3 I love this review and will definitely be checking out their products when they are accepting orders again!ReplyDelete
I love Electric Lemonade, Schizophrenic, and Recruit the most :DReplyDelete
One of my very favorite makeup sellers - thanks for doing a review and giving them some love! I have yet to post my own reviews, but I've accumulated about 35+ sample jars (which I was very excited about, as they come with a decent amount of product for a sample, compared to most places, and for a super low price). Out of the colors you have, I have Glam Girl, Phyrra and Electric Lemonade, and I love all three. However, my faves over all are Jailbreak, Family Secret (from the Twilight collection), Boyfriend Sweater and my #1 choice, Prankster. Prankster is AWESOME - versatile and totally unexpected in color payoff. Very multidimensional and looks different on than it does in the jar. Like a metallic gold-brown, but not too crazy metallic or 24K gold-ish. Glamour Doll Eyes is always the first company I recommend. :)ReplyDelete
I''ve been looking at ordering from them for a while now...this makes me want to do it moreReplyDelete
Jailhouse Jumpsuit looks gorgeous! I love the look you made :)ReplyDelete
This was a great post! I really want to try this brand. I am also having a giveaway that is sponsored by one of my fav. Etsy brand, but now a Artfire brand, Madd Style Cosmetics, and she is letting me give away her new collection! Check it out here: http://beingyourownbeauty.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-drop-dead-fred-collection-by-msc.htmlReplyDelete
Wow I havent bought anything from them yet but those swatches make it oh so tempting!! Love the looks you created beautiful.ReplyDelete
I bought a bunch of stuff a while ago and loved the colours but I had some application problems with several of them. I am planning on doing a review soon. It just goes to show that some products work well on some people and not so well on others. I do agree with you on the fabulous colour payoff, they are super bright!ReplyDelete


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One of the most life-changing Scriptures in the entire Bible is,
"According to your faith, be in done unto you." Matthew 9:29
Notice that it didn't say, "According to your HOPE be it done unto you…"
There is a reason for that.
Faith and hope are two completely different things. Did you know that? I just preached this a few weeks ago, LISTEN HERE, WATCH HERE, and I was astonished to find out how many good Christian people did not know this. I believe this is one of the reasons we have so much "unanswered prayer".
Now hope is critical. The reason is, without hope, faith has nothing to attach itself to.
But without faith, hope will never become a reality.
This verse says it plainly:
"Now faith is the assurance (title deed, confirmation) of things hoped for (divinely guaranteed), and the evidence of things not seen [the conviction of their reality—faith comprehends as fact what cannot be experienced by the physical senses]." Hebrews 11:1 Amp
Hope is always in the future. Faith is always in the now.
Hope wants it to happen. Faith causes it to happen!
That is why Jesus said,
"Therefore I say to you, whatever things you ask when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them." Mark 11:24
The opening Scripture in this post was in the context of Jesus talking to two blind men who wanted their eyes opened. Let's read that passage and recognize the difference between hope and faith;
"When Jesus departed from there, two blind men followed Him, crying out and saying, 'Son of David, have mercy on us!' And when He had come into the house, the blind men came to Him. And Jesus said to them, 'Do you believe that I am able to do this?' They said to Him, 'Yes, Lord.' Then He touched their eyes, saying, 'According to your faith let it be to you.' And their eyes were opened." Matthew 9:27-30
Do you see that what they were hoping for was brought to pass by their faith?
In another account of Jesus healing two other blind men, (Matthew 20:29-34) Jesus literally asked them what they wanted, that is, what they were hoping for. Then He told them the same thing, that their faith had healed them.
Can you see that their desire, their wish, their HOPE was that they would see, and how FAITH is what made it a reality???
So, if this is true, then the most natural next question is,
"How do I get more faith?"
I remember the day this question was answered for me and it changed my life forever.
I was meditating on faith and healing Scriptures (This does not mean shaving your head, putting on a white sheet, climbing a tall mountain and mumbling to yourself. It simply means memorizing Scriptures and then thinking on them deeply, saying them over and over again so the Holy Spirit has time to illuminate them to you).
I was meditating the Scripture, "According to your faith, be it done unto you", which I had read a hundred times. Then, all of a sudden, BOOM! It was as if Someone had flipped a switch on inside of me and I SAW it for the first time! I've been living on that truth ever since.
This is called revelation, and that's what you need to go for.
Definition of revelation. 1a : an act of revealing or communicating divine truth. b : something that is revealed by God to humans. 2a : an act of revealing to view or making known. b : something that is revealed especially : an enlightening or astonishing disclosure shocking revelations. (Merriam-Webster)
LISTEN HERE or WATCH HERE for a message I recently taught on, "What Is Faith and How Do I Get More of It?
Dig into the Word. Read it, memorize it, meditate it, get it into your spirit and allow it to carve away doubt, fear, and unbelief, and FAITH WILL ARISE! Then you will pray, and speak BY FAITH, and many of the things you have been HOPING and praying for will begin to come to pass.
P.S. Join the FASTING CALENDAR for a day or two in the month of February to help cultivate your faith. "This kind does not go out except by fasting and prayer." Matthew 17:21


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When it comes to finals, sleep is nonexistent and the work is without end. Sometimes we need a little caffeine buzz to help us out. Lucky for you, this ranking is here to answer all your coffee-related questions.
If you want to know what'll keep you up and at work, or maybe what's best suited for that last stretch of studying, turn to this definitive ranking of the Free Speech Movement Cafe's drinks based on caffeine levels.
8. Coke/Diet Coke
Like any soda, Coke has a minimal amount of caffeine, but those that are very sensitive to it may turn to soda to keep them up.
7. Tea
Tea provides us with a variety of options, from the non-caffeinated chamomile meant to help induce sleep, to the English Breakfast that's tailored to get us rolling. Some teas offer a caffeine rank on the back, but a classic rule of thumb is the darker the tea, the more caffeinated it is.
6. Chai Latte
As a black tea, chai tends to be more potent in caffeine, however the milk used in the latte will dilute the amount per ounce.
5. Americano/Latte/Cappuccino
All espresso drinks at FSM are double shot, and therefore will all have the same amount of caffeine. This is what people usually tend to order, but it's actually less potent then you may think.
4. Dirty Chai
A chai with a double shot of espresso, this drink features additional caffeine and is best suited for those who like sweeter drinks or dislike the taste of coffee.
3. House Coffee
While most people tend to think espresso drinks have more caffeine, due to the amount of coffee you actually have in a house brew, turns out there's more caffeine there. House coffee is almost always the cheapest option, doubling it as the most practical.
2. Red Bull
Ah, Red Bull. If you hate coffee and tea, but still need a kick of caffeine, energy drinks are an easy option. FSM tends to stock different flavors on hand too, but it may be harder to find these in the midst of dead week.
1."The Spider"/ Red Eye
When we're in desperate need, a Red Eye is what we at the Clog turn to. It's a cup of house brew with a double shot of espresso. This provides the highest amount of caffeine and definitely packs a punch.
Good luck with finals, Bears!
Contact Emma Sayiner at [email protected].


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|Today is Wednesday and I'm looking forward to this evening's service as we "Walk through the Bible". So many are enjoying the overview of Scripture and I believe that they will gain a working knowledge of the Bible if they are faithful to this series throughout the year each Wednesday.
I finished up Deuteronomy and went into Joshua, and here are some nuggets:
1) EBAL & GERIZIM- These were two mountains mentioned in Deuteronomy 27 and Joshua 8. Six of the tribes were put on Gerizim (the mount of blessing) and six of the tribes were put on Ebal (the mount of cursing). Moses would read the blessings of the law and promises of God, and the six tribes on Gerizim would say "Amen". Then he would read the curses of the law to those who neglect to obey God's Word, and again they would acknowledge it. (although they did not say Amen to the curses). This was a way to drive home the reality that God had put before them both Blessing and Cursing, and told them to choose Life not Death. We too should choose the blessed life, which is the life of obedience!
2) THE SONG OF MOSES- In Deuteronomy 31, we see that Moses wrote a song and taught it to the children of Israel. In chapter 32, we see the song that Moses wrote. What is interesting about this song is that in the book of Revelations it speaks of it. Revelation 15:3 "And they sing the song of Moses the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying, Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints." And this has to be the same song mentioned here and recorded in chapter 32. This makes it a very special song! For your consideration.
3) TERROR IS FALLEN- In Joshua 2:9 it says: "And she (Rahab) said unto the men, I know that the LORD hath given you the land, and that your terror is fallen upon us, and that all the inhabitants of the land faint because of you." This is a fulfillment of what God told Israel in: Deuteronomy 11:25 "There shall no man be able to stand before you: for the LORD your God shall lay the fear of you and the dread of you upon all the land that ye shall tread upon, as he hath said unto you." Rahab knew that the "terror is fallen" upon the men of the area. God had indeed instilled the fear of His people into the hearts of the people of Canaan. God kept His Word.... He always will!!
Well, time to go. Hope you have a blessed day! Pastor Mike Mutchler


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All members in good standing are free to post here. Opinions expressed here are solely those of the posters, and have not been cleared with nor are they endorsed by The Miniatures Page.
For more information, see the TMP FAQ.
Back to the Wargaming in General Message Board
31 Jan 2018 7:03 p.m. PSTby Editor in Chief Bill
1,184 hits since 26 Jun 2017
©1994-2019 Bill Armintrout
Comments or corrections?
True or false?
Only if they aren't longer because of players playing slowly… :)
My attention span is about two hours. I need to go from set-up to clean-up in that time.
The exact opposite I think. I'm with Coyotepunc!
Not sure about the length of a battle. But a campaign battle is more satisfying.
It takes 30+ minutes to get to the game, so at least 3 hours of game time is needed to make it worth the trip.
Two to three hour sessions.
The group I game with can go from 2-6 hours depending on the scenario.
I used to like all scensrios. Getting more into 1/2 day games. So both…
Having a table you can leave set up is a nice luxury. Many of our games run over 2 or 3 evenings.
Generally true. As always there are exceptions.
I have very fond memories of some two-day games from long ago, but these days I tend to see long games as a sign of something gone wrong. Two hours solo or at a convention is what I shoot for. Up to four hours with friends. The easy way to produce a 6-8 hour game is to take a four hour game and use the wrong rules.
True. If the game doesn't last several hours, depending on scenario and context, then it isn't worth setting/planning. I will always make time for my hobbies.
1 Corinthians 13:11
I used to believe in proving my manhood by commanding 1200 figures in TSATF games that dragged on for hours. Now I realize that such games remove all tactical finesse. What can you do besides pushing masses forward?
Now I have rediscovered the charms of small games. Like I had before I bought those thousands of figures.
Our game night runs from 6 to 10. Giving the first 1/2 hr. to greeting and talking until everyone arrives. So the game is about 3 hrs. long. However, I have played games that last a few days because I can leave everything set up. These are usually with only a couple of people who really can invest the time and are focused enough and enjoy the detailing of each move. These are usually much larger games with many more figures and the ability to bring in re-enforcements.Both are fun.
Only if there are sufficient decision points to fill the time.
If I can only make a meaningful decision once every hour or so, then definitely no.
Any length of time for a game can be enthralling. Or appallingly boring. Depends on a well designed scenario, workable rules, verisimilitude, and camaraderie. Have all of that firing in sync and a long game is great. Time permitting – and the honey-do list status.
That's what she said.
Yes, I like everything to do slowly and long time. ;-)
Not necessarily. I played in an all day Battle group Kursk game recently, it was like pulling teeth. Having lots of decisions to make is what makes for a fun game, length doesn't matter really.
Generally speaking, not true for me.
A game can easily be long because, the system is not adapted to the size of the scenario.A short, lively, skirmish that GOT to the END, is good.
On the other hand besides dumping most features of the period and edging towards a DBA type of rules, a proper napoleonic battle with 50-200000 men involved cannot be done in a few hours.
>1/2 h less checking uselessly " smart" phones a day and doing something needed instead and you have 3-4+ more for your hobby on week ends.
Games need to reach a coclusion, need not be rushed, need be good loking ( takes time to set up and back) not to be frustrated with.Well all tastes…
False. We play a lot of scenarios with One Hour Wargames, and it's much more fun to play 2 games of a scenario, changing sides, than one game taking twice as long.
Good rules must kick things along fast – time is a luxury not always available, and slow, over-fiddly rules are a real pain.
3 hours is about my limit, satisfying or not.
In general, I would say false.
As most have pointed out a tactically complex several hour game is fantastic – something like the 2 days of Aspern or Quatre Bras – Ligny would be great for that. The use of your reserves, gradual arrivals and grand tactical decisions would be a real treat (this is why my club still loves campaigns).
Long for the sake of long no – long to try something very big that has lots of decisions yes. Having said that we usually game 3 hours on an evening and 4 during they day due to family and other pressures.
It was true thirty years ago. Not so much any more. Too much going on to spend a couple of days or 12 hours on a game. I do have some fond memories, however.
We try to do games that can be completed in about 2 1/2 hours, but I can leave my table set up if it needs to go longer.
It amazes me that so much ink has been spilled about the "greying of the hobby" and yet a lot of older gamers like massive, complex, lengthy games.
I am a millennial. I can play longer games, but find 1 hour or less to be ideal. If I want to play for three hours, I'll just play multiple games. My attention span is fine, I just hate wasting time with overly complex or needless rules. Abstraction is our friend.
Like legs, a game should be long enough to reach the ground, i.e. suitable for what the game is. A short intense Ganesha Games family of rules battle is satisfying, so is seven hours of Waterloo using another rules set. So I like oysters and snails.
OTOH, seven hours for a skirmish of ten figures against ten figures doesn't work for me, nor is Waterloo getting a decision in an hour.
My weekly group plays a game in 2 to 3 hours ( 6 to 9 PM). Rarely do we play to a real conclusion. We do know who won.
Convention games usually go about 4 hours. Many times it is hard to keep everyone into the game for longer than that.
It all depends on the rules used and the scenario.
As long as things are moving at a reasonable pace and the time is available, long or short are both satisfying.
Depends on the game. But in general, yes they are. Prefer 5 to 6 hours. But it depends on the game.
Considering all the work I put into my games, it had better last five or six hours. Otherwise it is a waste of time.
Sometimes I want a 5 course meal, and other times a light snack. Gaming is the same.
False. Fun games are more satisfying.
I've had 8-hour "first stage" games of a campaign whizz by with enjoyment and I've spent an eternity and a half slogging through 90 minute games.
A two hour game spent sitting idle waiting for your turn, or because you can't get your command to activate, is far more tedious than a four hour game in which you're fully involved for its entire duration.
A vote for longer games. Travel time is a problem however where I live so shorter games are growing in popularity.
We will be looking for a new house this fall and I am defiantly going to look for a space that I can leave a game set up for as a long as I want.
I like both, but if pushed the most memorable take several eveings to play. The long games we play are in general not bigger individual games, some are smaller, some are bigger but they have CONTEXT, you are fighting for a reason bigger than the current engagement. This forces a different complection on your approach to a game, you have a much more convincing set of of goals. Victory points are nothing compared to your own set goals where all of the engagements are part of "hopefully" of your master plan. It generates "Senarios" you could not make convinceing if played in isolation.
Small games are more of a social interation, pleasant but not the great games.
However big games need experts in tactics of the period and preferably experts in the rules, which need to be effectively invisible so that copeing with the more coplex nature of a big game is possible. Long games with inexpert players and complex rules has to be the worst sort of game.
"Longer Games Are More Satisfying" That's what _she_ said….
Sorry - only verified members can post on the forums.


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Review – Bose QuietComfort 35 wireless headphones
I received the Bose QuietComfort 35 wireless headphones for my birthday/Christmas last December (see what other travel gifts I received here!) I've been using them on every single trip I've taken ever since and I don't really know what I did without them. Basically, they're absolutely amazing and have had a significantly enhanced my in-flight experience. As I've now had time to use them regularly, I wanted to put up a review, particularly for those of you who have any long haul travel coming up, as this is where I get the most use out of these headphones.
- Acoustic Noise Cancelling technology, which significantly reduces background noise
- 20 hours battery life
- Wireless when you're connected to your phone
- Bluetooth connectivity
- Microphone to allow you to take calls over the phone/Skype/whatsapp
- Plane adaptor and wire so you can use them when watching movies and don't have to suffer through the terrible quality free plane headphones
- Protective hard case so they're easy to transport without getting damaged
- USB charging cable
Where I use my Bose QuietComfort 35 headphones
There are two main places I use these headphones:
- On the plane. Literally the second I'm in my seat when I'm travelling alone, the headphones go on. Even if I'm not planning on listening to my music or watching a film straightaway, the headphones both cut out most of the background noise and deter my fellow passengers from speaking to me (sorry not sorry, the plane is not really a social space for me).
- In the gym. Although I'm by no means a gym buff, I kind of got over this when I realised how amazing the wireless feature is in the gym. I hate cardio so often do weights when I'm away and the fact that the Bose Quiet Comfort headphones are wireless makes them a no-brainer for my workout.
A must-have for frequent flyers
I'm not joking when I say these headphones have genuinely enhanced my flying experience. The sound quality is excellent, whether you're listening to music on your phone or watching an in-flight movie. Which is saying something, as previous headphones I've used sometimes just can't cope with connecting to plane headphone jacks properly at all.
The battery life is perfect. I was a bit concerned about this before I started using these heaphones but quickly realised I had nothing to worry about! I always make sure they're fully charged before I set off and they've made it through some of my longest trips to South America without any problems. This is also considering the fact I'll sometimes just sit with them on to get rid of background noises (particularly the sound of the plane engine!), even if I'm not listening to anything. And the best thing is that the Acoustic Noise Cancelling technology still allows most announcements to cut through the background noise (if you're paying attention).
Carefree design
So moving onto the actual design of the Bose QuietComfort 35 headphones, I can't fault it. They just look so slick and the silver colour that I have is beautiful. The padding used on the headphones is super soft and comfortable, which means I can wear them for a whole long-haul flight without any discomfort. I used to get by with just ear buds, which can be excruciating after a couple of hours, so this really is a headphone revolution for me! When you want to put them away, you just flick the switch to turn them off and fold them down into their hard case, which you can then put away in your carry-on without worrying about your headphones getting damaged.
Final thoughts
The Bose QuietComfort 35 wireless headphones are honestly incredible. My boyfriend is a bit of a technology wizz and had tried them out already from a friend so he had asked me if I wanted them as a gift and I wasn't 100% convinced – until I experienced them. I would highly recommend these for anyone who, like me, relies on a lot of music and movies to get them through long-haul flights (especially the dreaded night flight). Even if you just want to use them to cut out background sound to let you get some more sleep, it's worth considering. They're lightweight, comfortable and an extremely well-designed piece of technology that I wouldn't be without anymore. They are quite expensive, but if you travel regularly these headphones are a great investment.
The Bose QuietComfort 35 wireless headphones cost £329.95. Get yours now on Amazon by clicking here.


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Video Game Trader LLC
$ 16.99
Sorry, this item is out of stock
Xtreme Sports is a multi-trial sports game that combines different sports in one race. Snowboard, ATV, Delta-plane and Mountain Bike are available from the beginning; Base Jump and Bungee Jumping need to be unlocked.
Four game modes are available: Championship, Race, Time Trial, and Practice. There are three tracks available right away, and six more to unlock. In all the modes, the gameplay is somewhat arcade-oriented, requiring the player to react quickly. A special boost gauge can be filled by doing specific actions, increasing the player's chances of victory.


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1. Nike One | for Nike Lab | SS18
Nike One tech parka
The first women's RUN TRAIN LIVE collection in Nike incorporating all three categories in one, offering her layered looks of her choice.
The Idea And The Making
Nike One is a collection for Nike Lab that had been launched in Fall 18. The main idea was to incorporate all three categories Running, Training and NSW in order to create diverse looks for her. With the main signature elements and styles from Nike Lab, we played with layering, graphics and accessories. The collection consisted of three running pieces: short / tank / tee ; three training pieces: bra / tight / bodysuit; four NSW pieces: culottes / parka / vest / FZ knit hoodie.
001a pocket detail on parka
001b - layering detail
001c - back embroidery
Accessories, graphics and details
The main driver for the visual cohesion was the iconic swoosh chain that we embroidered, printed and engineered into the pieces.
Additionally, three accessories were created to support the line: socks printed with Nike swoosh chain / deconstructed cap / soft belt with the signature pocket.
002a - half cap
002b - half cap
Looks | Illustrations
Product shots


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Peruse This
If Lowell had known anything about corporate culture or management, he never would have hired me.
That's because in most big companies, Human Resources professionals screen employment applications and perform résumé triage, putting each into a pile: Meets minimum qualifications; doesn't meet them; maybe. Usually only the first pile goes to the interviewer.
I did not then have a bachelor's degree, as the job required, so my application should have gone on the second pile, thence to the shredder.
But Lowell told HR he wanted to see all 200-plus applications. He found mine, with tear sheets of published picture stories and magazine articles, and barely glanced at my resume.
The job was associate editor of a profusely illustrated monthly employee magazine for a financial services company. Lowell was its editor.
My interview went well: We both smoked Borkum Riff in our pipes; we were both recently discharged from the Army, and both our wives were Asian. Lowell said this was "propitious." (I didn't mention that I was getting a divorce.)
On my first day Lowell explained that we would write four pieces each per issue, then edit each other's stories. All copy then went to HR to check name spellings, and to Richard,a vice president and Lowell's boss.
Lowell then handed me six pages. "Peruse these," he said. "Edit as you go."
I wasn't sure what "peruse" meant. Not wanting to seem stupid, I looked it up in my office dictionary, then went to work.
Carefully reading each page, I examined each word, each line, each paragraph, every comma, period and colon. I perused it.
An hour later Lowell stuck his head in my office. "Have you finished perusing my piece?" he asked.
"Not yet," I replied.
He asked twice more, and twice I replied as before.
Just before lunch he marched into my office and snatched the pages.
"What is wrong with you!" he shrieked. "How long does it take to read a short story?"
"A few minutes," I replied. "But you told me to 'peruse' it."
"Yes, peruse it. Read it over quickly."
"No," I said. "Peruse does not mean to read quickly."
"It certainly does," he insisted, his face flushed.
"I looked it up," I said. When I showed Lowell the dictionary, he stomped off in fury.
Lowell's stepfather was chairman of a Fortune 500 manufacturer. Lowell attended prep schools and then a pricey private university, a campus better known for its football teams than academics. Then he was drafted into the Army; afterward, with his wife, he toured Europe trying to be a freelance writer. When his family shut the money tap, they returned.
Tally and rangy, Lowell was 25 but looked at least my age, 33. He favored tweeds and elbow-patch jackets and used $50 words, sprinkling his conversations with literary allusions and gratuitous wine commentary.
This was his first real job. A week after coming aboard as associate editor, the old editor left and Lowell took his place. Two weeks later, he hired me.
The company operated nationwide; each month one of us traveled to a different state, where we spent a week interviewing staff, doing research and shooting photos. I wasn't making much money, but I enjoyed the travel.
I needed this job, so from the first day forward, conscious of Lowell's pretensions, I humbled myself to him. He seemed satisfied with my work; when it began winning awards he found ways to share the glory. I didn't mind. I was trying to put my life back together and learn enough to prepare myself for my next move up the career ladder.
Lowell was on a different journey. A few months after I started, his pretty wife gave birth to their first child. He soon moved out, took a bachelor pad and entertained a succession of girlfriends. He began locking himself into his office until lunch, taking no calls. He claimed to be working on his novel, but everyone in the office knew he was sleeping. Once a janitor found a pair of women's panties in his waste basket.
Meanwhile he gave me first one, then two, of his stories to write each month, in addition to my own four. Claiming that my expenses were excessive, he cut back my travel schedule. On the road I usually ate hamburgers and always took modest lodging, so I wondered if he was using our budget to fund dinner dates.
But I said nothing.
By then I was again single; after years in uniform and classes at eight colleges, I was anxious to finish my degree. From HR I learned that the company reimbursed tuition, books and expenses for work-related classes, so I enrolled in university editing and graphic design courses.
Reimbursement required Lowell's signature — but he refused to give it. Why spend department funds when I could get GI Bill education benefits, he said. HR told him that education reimbursement came out of their budget, but as usual Lowell wouldn't back down.
My graphic design class required that I turn in a camera-ready piece project. I created a fold-out brochure; it needed type, so I called Frank, the vendor whose company set our magazine's type. When I asked the price, he said "Not much — I'll bill you."
Soon after that, Sherry, Frank's saucy, irreverent, 20-something daughter and his company's messenger, flashed our office secretarial pool to display her new breast implants.
Lowell caught a glimpse of the new Sherry and invited her to dinner. They went to a fancy restaurant; as the vichyssoise arrived, he made it plain that he expected her to spend the night with him.
Sherry laughed at him.
Lowell gauchely mentioned the price of the meal they'd just ordered.
Sherry threw her soup in his face and called a cab.
Around then our corporation bought a credit card firm, a competitor of American Express. Lowell was told to interview Ken, its president, and write a profile. That required a long, rush-hour drive back from Los Angeles in brutal heat — but Lowell had a dinner date, so he sent me instead.
While I was writing this profile, Lowell obsessed over Sherry's humiliating rejection, which she had, of course, shared with our secretaries. To punish her and end the buzz that accompanied her messenger visits, he fired her father. We were Frank's biggest account; trying to change Lowell's mind, he reminded him of past favors, including several weekends that he'd allowed Lowell and various girlfriends to use his hideaway beach cabin. Frank also mentioned my school project; he'd never billed me for the type.
Lowell ignored him and hired a new typesetter.
When my profile was published, Ken was so pleased that he asked our CEO to promote me. The editor-in-chief of his company's magazine, a rival of Travel & Leisure, was old, ailing and due to retire. Ken wanted me to come over, and after a six-month apprenticeship, take over for him. I'd get a small pay raise immediately and a big one when I became editor.
This was a terrific break: a leap from the employee communications backwater to the glamorous cosmos of a consumer travel publication.
Lowell was furious. The next day he berated me for misspelling a name, the sort of trivial error that we'd both made and that HR always caught. "If you spent less time perusing dictionaries, maybe you'd have time to check names," he growled.
He'd never forgiven me for revealing his ignorant pretentiousness!
"That's hardly fair, Lowell," I replied. "I'm writing almost the whole magazine now, and —"
"You're not a captain now," he said, seething. "I tell you what's fair."
I saw then that bossing me around compensated Lowell for the indignity of having had to take orders from men like me while he was in the Army.
Then Lowell bypassed Richard, went to the CEO and demanded that Ken interview him for the position I'd been offered.
He got his interview. But Ken still wanted me.
Two days before I was scheduled to start, however, while working on a special issue commemorating the tenth anniversary of our Australian division, Richard sent for me. He shut his office door behind me.
"I'm sorry about this," he said. "Lowell went directly to the Legal Department, so there's nothing I can do."
I had no idea what he was talking about.
"You accepted a vendor's gratuity worth over $20," he said.
"I don't understand."
"That's grounds for termination," he said.
"What exactly did I do?" I asked.
"Typesetting. Some kind of fancy résumé you were having printed. So you were planning on leaving anyway?"
"That was for my graphic design class. Frank said he'd bill me."
"It's out of my hands," said Richard. "Sorry."
"What about my promotion? I was supposed to go to work for Ken."
"Out of the question," said Richard.
I was in shock. A security guard escorted me from the building.
At home I found a message on my answering machine: Jim, another company VP, was appalled at what happened. He'd found me a job with a competitor. The new position was considered management, offered a flexible schedule and paid much more than my former one. The only downside was a 75-mile daily commute.
I took it, of course.
A week later Lowell left a message on my machine: He, too, had been sacked. That was all — no explanation, no apology.
Then Richard left a message. I ignored it until he called twice more and begged me to meet him that night.
He got right to the point: "The special Australia issue — it's imperative that we publish on schedule," he said.
"I have a new job," I said. "Staff of four, expense account, managerial title and much more money than I was making."
"Can you work nights for us? Put out one magazine? And hire a new staff?"
"I accepted a vendor's $20 gratuity. How could you trust me?"
"Our mistake," he said. "But you're the only one — and if you don't, the Australians —"
"Let me get this straight," I said. "You break my sword over your knee, cut the buttons off my tunic, pour out my canteen and chase my camel into the desert – and now you want to say, 'oops'?"
"What's it going to cost?" he said.
I thought about my long daily commute and my plan to start night school full time. I'd need a new car soon.
So I worked double shifts for a month, including weekends, to put out the Australia issue, and hired two friends to replace Lowell and me.
In return, my former employers bought me a new car.
Lowell vanished from my life. But more than 20 years later, by chance, I encountered the woman who actually took the job that Ken had offered me and that Lowell so desperately wanted. She'd spent three years as an apprentice editor at a beggar's wages before she quit.
"The editor was old and sick," she said. "But he was never going to retire. He wanted to be carried out on his shield."
Despite his perverse intentions, his pretensions and his inflated opinion of his own talents, it seems that Lowell's intervention saved me from a depressing career detour; getting fired put me on the right path.
All these years later, I remain in his debt.
Damn him.
© 2000 Marvin J. Wolf
Lie Detector
The elevator slid open and a man in handcuffs and blue jail coveralls stepped forward. Behind him came a uniformed officer, who pointed to the bench next to me. "Back in a minute," said the cop, and parked his charge in an alcove deep inside Parker Center, LAPD's Downtown headquarters.
I noticed that the inmate was cuffed in front and that his hands and nails were clean. Then I looked away. "Whatcha here for?" he said, and I turned to peer at him again, a slender man, probably in his twenties, clean-shaven, with short reddish blonde hair. I inspected the floor tiles and stifled my urge to reply.
"I'm down for receiving stolen property," volunteered this prisoner. "Bought some copper wire off a guy, turned out he stole it," he added. "What about you?"
I had lunched with a private investigator, who shared an anecdote about recovering funds ripped off in an insurance scam. He bragged that he had cracked this case after a police captain sold him confidential documents.
I hardly knew this PI, and I had grown up watching "Dragnet" and "Adam 12," believing that the police are my friends, that in Los Angeles, as perhaps nowhere else, the men in blue are above graft and larceny, that they are the finest citizens among us. And so later, chatting with someone whom I had known since high school, a man who had made a fine career in the LAPD, I had asked if such a thing was possible.
A week later a pair of detectives knocked at my door. They were from LAPD. From Internal Affairs. They wanted the name of the captain who had been bribed.
I didn't have a name. I didn't know which department the captain worked for, or even if he was LAPD or another force. And I didn't even know with certainty that there actually had been a bribe. But when I said as much, and explained that I had been talking to a PI about a book that I might write, these police who police the police began to float scenarios: Maybe I was the guy doing the bribing. Maybe I hired the guy who bought the documents. Maybe I had tried to bribe a police officer, but he refused.
Biting back my anger, I told them, again, what I knew, and what I didn't. They were not satisfied. I was invited to take a polygraph.
I had heard and read about polygraph tests, and knew just enough to be wary. The instrument measures blood pressure, respiration, and galvanic skin resistance — sweatiness. Those who favor it insist that these phenomena reflect the liar's inner anxiety, and that measuring them while responding to questions reveals deception, when present.
Those who don't believe in the machine say that while it may be that bodies scream "no, no, no," when their owners say "yes, yes, yes," interpreting the data is more art than science, that the real purpose of the "lie detector" is to frighten a suspect into confessing, and that as science its product is worthless.
I respectfully declined the LAPD's offer to prove my sincerity.
A week later, one of the detectives telephoned to offer me a chance to change my mind about the polygraph — and about what I had recounted about the cop captain on the take.
I declined again.
Later I started to think: I had done nothing wrong, committed no crime. I knew nothing that I hadn't shared with police. But how often does a writer get to experience a polygraph test? I dreamed of writing novels. Perhaps someday I might find such an encounter useful. Even if I never wrote about it, it would undoubtedly be an interesting experience.
When the detective called back yet again, I agreed to the test.
And so I was at Parker Center, listening to an inmate talk about buying stolen telephone cable. And going into shock: Many years earlier, my father, a junkyard owner, had been arrested for the identical crime. I was in Vietnam then, and never knew much about that incident. Dad had hired a lawyer. The matter evaporated.
Suddenly I was afraid.
My only previous brush with the law was a misdemeanor: Selling encyclopedias door-to-door without a license in a small town that wouldn't issue said permits. But surely my father's felony arrest remained in some cop shop file. Could it really be coincidence that the first person I met at Parker Center was up on exactly the same rap, the only charge that my father had ever faced? I turned it over in my mind, realizing at last that what he was telling me, chapter and verse, was probably right out of Dad's case file.
I was getting the full treatment.
My mouth stayed shut until the Internal Affairs detective beckoned to me.
While I will never qualify for sainthood, I have never been much good at lying. No matter the temptation, I am quite unable to tell a woman that I love her if I don't. I am equally unable to withhold professions of sincere sentiment, even when I know that the object of my affections would rather not hear them. In ordinary conversation I tend to say whatever comes to mouth, without considering it for the merest instant, and so later I am often unable to recall my exactly words. Until well into middle age, when I learned that it was often better to be quiet than right, I found tact a challenge.
I feared no lie detector.
The room was small and worn, with faded lime-hued walls, the requisite one-way mirror, and a rumpled, balding operator who explained how things worked as he affixed a blood-pressure cuff at my biceps, a galvanometer sensor on my finger, a strap across my chest to measure how quickly and often my lungs filled. The detective read me the questions that he would ask and we began.
After preliminary queries — my name and age, used to establish a baseline of body responses, came the main event. And an unscripted question: "Your only reason for being here today is to help this investigation, is that correct?"
Not quite. I was there partly so that the police would stop bothering me, and partly for the possible literary value of the experience.
"Not exactly," I replied.
"Yes or no," said the detective. "Answer yes or no, please."
"But I--"
"Yes or no!"
Yes," I said. My body temperature rose. Perspiration oozed from my every pore. My heart beat wildly, and my blood pressure rose so rapidly that I grew dizzy. I fought for air.
The polygraph needles etched arabesques across the chart.
I have slogged through rice paddies with bullets snapping and hissing past my ears. I have spiraled down toward a landing zone while fountains of green tracers searched for our chopper as it jinked and side-slipped and zigzagged and shuddered from hit after hit. I have taken the witness stand in open court and had my motives and mores and credibility gnawed by a pit bull in a thousand-dollar suit. I have been about as afraid as it is possible to be, yet kept my wits and did my job. But in that small green room I was suddenly overcome with dread. Panic seized my body and refused to release it until the questions ended and the polygraph was turned off.
"Anything you want to say?" asked the sneering detective afterward. "Are you ready to give us the truth now?"
I tried not to be sore. The police were just doing their job, I told myself, and in their world everyone is a suspect, a sleaze ball who lies to save himself. But then, a few months later, the lid came off the LAPD toilet and I learned about cops manufacturing evidence, "testilying" about crimes that never occurred, shooting an elderly homeless woman who waved a screwdriver at them — whole barrels of bad apples ruining innocent lives in the name of blue power solidarity.
The more I think about those cops, the less sure I am of my feelings toward them. My only certainty is that I will never take another polygraph test.
And that is the truth.
© 2000 Marvin J. Wolf
Poster Girl
Rachel rapped on my screen door. "Hello!" she called. "Anybody home?"
Just back from my Sunday afternoon run, I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to see Rachel again, let alone now, when I was sweaty, thirsty and tired.
"Please," she called. "I need your help."
We'd met through the Personals. She was everything I'd ever wanted in a woman: pretty, sexy, sassy and smart. And responsibly employed. For me it was pretty much love at first sight. It took Rachel several dates, until I clicked with her young daughter and charmed her mother. We became a couple. Heaven!
For all of two weeks.
She dumped me with a message on my answering machine.
"This isn't working," she said. "I'm sorry. I met someone…. "
She wouldn't take my calls. Was never home when I rang her doorbell. Didn't respond to my letters.
Rejection is every writer's companion and far from my worst enemy. I was hurt, of course, but at 35, with a terrible marriage behind me, I knew I would recover. I'm not the stalker type, so I moved on.
Now, two months later, she was at my door.
I gave her a can of soda and took a seat on the couch next to her, admiring, as always, her alluring yet modestly attired figure.
"It's good to see you, Rachel," I said, putting an arm around her.
She pushed me away.
"I didn't come for that," she said.
I gave her an expectant look.
"I'm married now."
"Why are you here, Rachel?"
"I wanted to say I'm sorry. I should have had better manners. I should have told you in person."
"Told me what, exactly?"
"That you weren't the man I needed. I need someone with a regular job."
"I have a regular job."
"You're a free-lance writer."
I gestured expansively. "I own this house. Me and the bank. My car is paid for. I eat regularly, pay my bills on time."
"It's a townhouse. Your Toyota is three years old. You always wear jeans. And you know what? That's smart, because you never know one month to the next how much you'll make. I really admire you. You're very talented and you work hard. …"
Yadda yadda yadda.
"… but I need — "
"Somebody with a lot of money," I said.
"No, no, that's not right. I just need… more stability. And then I met Michael, and he was…."
"He's in sales — and he does very well."
"Let me guess. Drives a Mercedes. Lives in Beverly Hills."
"Newport Beach. And it's a BMW."
She fumbled in her purse for a photo.
Michael seemed to have stepped out of a GQ ad: tall, movie-star handsome, immaculately groomed in Armani.
I've never owned a suit that cost more than $100, and I bought that one in Hong Kong. I'm average looking…if there isn't too much light. And short. Very short.
"And now you're living happily ever after?"
"I need to borrow some money," she said.
I laughed. Surely some revelation was at hand. "Surely the Second Coming is at hand," I said.
I was thinking Yeats. She was thinking something else and shrank from me.
"Michael's in trouble," she shrieked.
"What kind of trouble?"
"He's kind of…. behind in his child support."
"'Kind of behind'?"
"A year or so."
I beamed her my tell-me-more. She began sobbing.
"So he owes his ex-wife a bundle?"
"Three ex-wives! Five children!"
"You dumped me for a deadbeat dad—now you want me to pay his back child support?"
"It's not what you think! Anyway, I didn't know about all that until…."
Rachel wept uncontrollably. Tissue was inadequate. I got her a towel.
I let her cry, trying to savor the irony. It didn't make me feel better about myself. Or about her.
When Rachel was cogent, I prepared my lance, then jabbed.
"Tall, dark and handsome, Beamer, lives in a waterfront mansion and dresses to make your heart go pitty-pat—but too cheap to support his own flesh and blood?"
Round two. Rachel cried for another five minutes, long past the point where I regretted my cruelty.
"The house— the car— the furniture— everything's leased," she murmured. "He got behind… I had to make last month's payments—He's in real estate and he hasn't closed a deal since…"
"How much do you need. And what's it for?"
Dabbing at her eyes, Rachel told me that police arrested Michael for failing to pay court-ordered child support. He told Rachel that one of his listings was about to close escrow; once out of jail, he'd get an advance on the commission. In a few days he'd pay everything.
Bail was $10,000; 10 percent to a bondsman in cash, non-refundable. So, two days earlier, on Friday evening, she'd written a check for $1,000 to get Michael out of orange coveralls and back into Armani.
"Then what's the problem?"
"All my savings went for car payments and rent!"
I nodded to show that I understood. I didn't.
"I couldn't let him stay in jail," she wailed. "I took $1,000 in cash from the posting drawer."
Rachel worked for a large bank; she supervised "posting," ensuring that each deposit or withdrawal was debited or credited to the proper account.
"Before we closed for the weekend, I wrote a personal check," she explained. "To balance my books. Tomorrow I'll have to deposit that check, but there's not even a hundred dollars in my account."
"Why would you do that?" I asked, incredulous.
"Michael said that he had emergency cash hidden in his office. He said he'd pay me back right away."
"And you believed him?"
Round three of the waterworks show. I waited until she dried her eyes. She looked more vulnerable, more appealing than ever.
I despised myself for still wanting her.
"Where's Michael now?"
"Showing a house," replied Rachel.
"So—a divorce? An annulment?"
"I love Michael and he loves me. We'll get through this ."
"He lied to you, manipulated you into embezzling—what's wrong with you?"
"It's really more of a misunderstanding," she said. "We'll work it out."
You can't make this kind of stuff up.
"And if you don't return the cash tomorrow,?" I asked.
"They'll call the police," she said. "Even if I don't go to prison, I'll never get another good job."
That kind of a misunderstanding. But I didn't say it aloud.
"Why come to me?" I asked, relishing the moment. "Surely your mother could help?"
"Mom hates Michael. Says she always knew he was a phony, that I was a fool to fall for his act and that I should have married you."
Oddly, this did not make me feel better.
"Your mother would let you go to jail?"
"She said she'll help with a lawyer, but she wouldn't give me the money because I deserve to be punished."
Wow, I thought. Tough love.
"I'm only a free-lance writer," I said. "I live in this crappy townhouse, wear jeans and drive a crappy old Toyota. A thousand bucks is a lot to me."
Actually, at that moment it wasn't: I'd just scored a major reprint sale and landed a lucrative brochure project. I was flush.
Rachel worked the ring off the third finger of her left hand. The stone was easily three carats, its myriad facets refracting sunbeams as tiny rainbows.
"Take this for collateral," she said.
I didn't have the heart to tell her it was a zircon. No pawn shop would give her as much as $50 for it.
"I don't want your ring," I said.
"I'll open a savings account for you and deposit $50 a month."
I thought about it for a long moment, then wrote her a check.
"I can't let you go to jail," I said.
"Thank you! I'll pay you back! Every cent, with interest. Thank you!"
I didn't think she would — but I was curious: Years earlier, my then-wife committed a serious crime; although I knew nothing of it until her arrest, she tried to wriggle free by blaming me. Though shocked and horrified, I still loved her. I couldn't let her go to prison, so I naively offered to sacrifice my freedom for hers; improbably, this became the twisting path to my own subsequent liberation.
All this cost me my savings and a promising career as an Army officer. And of course, I couldn't be married to someone that I couldn't trust.
Now I was watching a replay, gender roles reversed: Michael betrays Rachel; she risks her freedom for his. It almost restored my faith in womanhood.
It was worth a grand to see how things worked out.
A week later the mail brought a bank book with a balance of $10. Not $50. A month later Rachel deposited another $10. She was trying. Ten more the following month and ten the next.
Then nothing. Her phone was disconnected. New tenants occupied the Newport house. Rachel left the bank, though why, how or when they wouldn't say. I never heard from her again.
Many years later, when I wrote my first movie– the first that was produced – I made my villain a tall, good-looking, well-dressed serial killer with a flashy car. He seduces a needy woman, manipulates her into embezzling, murders her for the loot. Then he does it again. My screen lothario's last victim supervises accounts posting for a large bank. She takes cash on a Friday afternoon, believing that her lover will repay her before Monday's reckoning. Right.
At the climax my hero swoops in, shoots the killer, saves the woman — and turns her over to the cops for embezzling.
That screenplay brought way more than $1,000.
I love being a writer: Nothing in my life goes to waste and every story ends as I choose.
Writing well is the best revenge.
© 2000 Marvin J. Wolf
Steinbeck in Vietnam
On a stultifying October day in the Central Highlands, I sought refuge from the swarms of tiny flies and the pitiless midday sun in the almost airless shade of the press tent. Perched on a footlocker while pecking out a news release on my dusty portable, a sudden shadow fell across me. Looking up, I caught the silhouetted figure of a tall man easing past the mosquito curtain. He paused in the entrance while his eyes adjusted to the murk, and I saw that he was in late middle age and bearded—and therefore must be a civilian. He wore hiking boots and cargo pants, with a tailor-made jacket resembling the old style of Army fatigue shirts, but in a different shade of green.
Obviously, he was new to Vietnam.
"Hello," he said, spotting me and taking a step forward. "I'm John Steinbeck."
I had met Winston Churchill's grandson. I had dined with six Pulitzer Prize winning newsmen, played bodyguard, driver and factotum to S.L.A. Marshall, America's most respected—and feared—author of military histories. I had escorted actor Robert Mitchum around the division and in the field, chatted at length with ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and ran interference for pop superstar singer Bobby Rydell. At 25, with three stripes on my sleeve, I was no longer in awe of celebrity.
Even so, I was startled. John Steinbeck, the Nobel Prize-winning novelist? In Vietnam? In An Khe? In the First Air Cavalry Division press tent? In my office?
"The John Steinbeck?" I said, getting to my feet.
"Oh no," he chuckled. "John Steinbeck the Third. There must be quite a few John Steinbecks."
I giggled. Steinbeck sat down on a rickety field chair, and soon I was telling him where I was from, and about my duties. That I was a combat photographer who had recently been promoted into a job that required writing and editing, and that I was still feeling my way. So disarming was Steinbeck's manner that I soon tucked away all awe; we were merely two guys, one very young and the other aging, worldly but unassuming, sharing bits of our lives with each other. I offered him water from my canteen, and as he sipped I finally asked what had first came to my mind: What was he doing in Vietnam?
"I'm with Newsday," he said, and when I looked blank he said that this was a daily newspaper serving Long Island, New York.
"I never knew that you were a reporter, too," I replied.
"More of a special correspondent," he explained. "Came out mostly because Mr. Johnson asked me to have a look around," he said, and then my boss, Major Phillips, arrived to whisk him off to meet the commanding general.
Half an hour later the phone rang: Nick Palladino, calling from Saigon. Until a few months earlier, he had worked for me. Then Nick volunteered for another six months in Vietnam for a chance to work for Armed Forces Radio & Television in Saigon. Nick was my personal back-channel to Saigon's rumor mill, and he was calling now to share another, more interesting reason for Steinbeck's sudden appearance: The novelist's eldest son, John IV, an Army broadcaster on Armed Forces Radio, was in hot water for smoking dope. Nick explained that young John had gone on the air, "stoned out of his gourd," to rant about his unit commander and various other individuals whom he identified by name. He had taken the precaution of chaining the door to the studio shut; to get him off the air, the Army had to shut down the transmitter.
Scuttlebutt on the senior Steinbeck, said Nick, was that he had come to Vietnam to remind the brass that it was his son that they had arrested. (Many years later, the younger Steinbeck would write a salacious, self-indulgent book about his Saigon experiences in which he bragged about using marijuana in Vietnam but omitted mention of his arrest. He died in 1991.)
Steinbeck returned the next morning in the general's jeep, and Major Phillips told me that I was to show the novelist around, take him anywhere he wanted to go, arrange for helicopters, meals, billets, if available, answer his questions to the best of my ability, and above all, not let him get killed.
The general's driver took us to the Golf Course, as our enormous grassy helicopter landing field was known, and as we waited for a pilot, Steinbeck moved close. In a low voice, he said, "Two things. Don't introduce me by my last name. People don't recognize my face, but they will know my name. I didn't come all this way to talk about myself. I came to hear what they have to say about themselves, and the war."
I nodded, yes.
"And remember what I said yesterday about Mr. Johnson?" he asked.
"You said that he asked you to have a look around."
"Right. Now please forget that I ever said that."
Only then did I realize that the Mr. Johnson he'd mentioned was Lyndon Baines Johnson, the 36th President of the United States, and the one then in the White House.
If I never knew with certainty what brought Steinbeck to Vietnam, his visit to the Air Cav was easy to divine: We had pretty much invented helicopter warfare and thanks in part to Phillip's predecessor, Major Charles Siler, and his wise guidance, we were the most publicized outfit in the war and arguably the most glamorous. In the Pentagon view, as our fortunes went, so would go the war. And just then, things were going well.
The first thing Steinbeck wanted to do was go on an air assault. He hopped a Huey with as much spring in his 65-year-old legs as the mostly teenaged grunts we rode with and we roared into the sky, headed for a jungle clearing hacked out of a mountain shoulder. We rode the third ship in; for once I was not playing door gunner. The operation was a dry hole, no enemy contact. Only Steinbeck seemed disappointed.
I soon realized that he was a brilliant interviewer; few of his subjects fully grasped that they were being ever-so-gently interrogated. He guided conversations with a few deft questions, listening carefully, saying little. He took notes, but usually later, rarely in view of a subject. I never saw what he wrote, but I suspect that he was out for atmosphere, looking to assess the moods and motivations of those fighting the war. Like the best reporters, he preferred the company of privates and noncoms, men whose occupations brought them the greatest risks. Back at base camp, he often joined a battalion or brigade commander for an evening of off-the-record conversation, an enterprise from which I was, alas, excluded.
I was still very much a novice writer; most of my published work was heavily edited. Nevertheless I clung to the expectation that I'd eventually learn better techniques. So one day, riding next to Steinbeck in a twin-engine Caribou, I screwed up my courage and asked him about writing. I found it terribly hard, I said. I was intimidated by the blank page. I feared making stupid mistakes. I knew that I should edit my copy more, that I should rewrite stories again and again before submitting them, but I wasn't sure how to proceed. Worse, by the time I finished a piece, I was mentally exhausted by the whole process, sick of the material and anxious to move on.
He grinned. "It's not brain surgery," he shouted, over the roar of the twin turboprops. "It's a craft. Not much different from carpentry."
I frowned, not getting it at all.
"Carpenters make all sorts of different things," he explained. "Forms for pouring cement. Tables. Cabinets. Boxes. Even violins. Each requires a different kind of wood. Sometimes more than one kind."
I shook my head, still not there.
"Think of words as wood. Choose different kinds of wood—words—for different kinds of writing. Short, simple words for news. Longer, more complex words for maybe a critical review or an essay. Get it now?"
Comprehension slowly dawned. I nodded, yes. But then what?
"Carpenters use all sorts of tools. Different saws for different kinds of cuts. Different planes, files, sandpaper, depending on the job, the finish required. Different kind of sealants—varnish or shellac or paint. Different types of nails, different kinds of hammers to drive them.
"Writers tools are techniques. Read different writers—many, many different riders. See how they use their craft to handle similar situations. Think of yourself as a carpenter, not an artist. If you make a mistake, fix it. Throw a sentence away, like it was a piece of wood that you'd ruined. So what — it's just a piece of wood! Get another piece and go back to work."
I sort of got it. It was a lot to think about. I wanted to talk more, to ask more questions, but I never again found the right moment in our time together.
When Steinbeck was ready to leave, I drove the section jeep to the Golf Course. Baking in the late morning sun, we watched his plane float down. Steinbeck shook my hand. "Thanks for everything," he said. "I mean it."
"Just doing my job," I replied.
"Then thanks for never asking me what I meant on page thirty-seven of Tortilla Flat or the last paragraph in Of Mice and Men. I appreciate your discretion."
I inspected imaginary mud on my boots. "I had to read The Red Pony in the ninth grade," I said. "Aside from that…"
Steinbeck threw back his head and roared. "They told me you'd been chosen specially for this job," he said. "I didn't understand how that worked, but I do now!"
My face was a boiled lobster. "I haven't been to college yet," I protested, and then the twin-engine C-123 taxied up, its fierce turboprops making conversation impossible.
We stood watching as the rear hatch slowly opened.
The first man off the plane wore a cream-colored safari suit, a bulky redhead who looked around anxiously, then approached me, the only sergeant not scurrying about.
"I've got to wee-wee!", he bellowed—just as the near engine shut down. Heads swiveled toward his famous and unmistakable baritone.
I pointed at a cluster of four-foot-long gray plastic shipping tubes angled up from a gravel patch. Once they had held aerial rockets. Now they served as a pissoir. A grimy strip of canvas, intended for user privacy, lay crumpled nearby, long since blown over by prop blast.
"There?" objected the redhead. "But everyone will see!"
Steinbeck hefted his bag and started toward the aircraft. He came back to shake the newcomer's hand. "John Steinbeck," he said.
"Arthur Godfrey," returned the redhead, unnecessarily.
Godfrey was the host of a variety show syndicated nationwide on radio and television, a man more famous, in that era, than many movie stars.
"And I've really got to wee-wee," he added.
In the months to come, safely stateside, I hunted up a copy of Steinbeck's The Log From The Sea of Cortez in a used-book shop. I found it fascinating; to this day its imagery lingers in my mind. As the years went by, I read Steinbeck's novels, one by one, losing myself in the sweep of East Of Eden, feeling pity and outrage through The Grapes of Wrath and weeping over Of Mice And Men. I learned much about my craft from Steinbeck's lean, careful cadences and his use of apparently simple language to convey fine subtleties. Every now and then I came to a phrase or a thought that conjured up a moment that we had shared in Vietnam, the way he cocked his head to listen to somebody, or the look in his eyes when he contemplated a mangled body in black pajamas.
And when I came to some particularly humorous line, I often flashed on my last glimpse of Steinbeck, climbing the steep ramp of the C-123 as the pilot restarted the engines, then shaking his head in mirth while dozens of soldiers and airmen gaped at a fleshy, red-headed man standing at a piss tube, his clothing soaked by a propeller-driven hurricane of his own essence, a surreal vignette that became my personal metaphor for a war that I still struggle to understand.
© 2000 Marvin J. Wolf
FROM Marvin J. Wolf
On this page are true stories, magazine articles, excerpts from books and unpublished works, short fiction, and photographs, each offering a glimpse of my life, work and times. Your comments welcome. © Marvin J. Wolf. All rights reserved.
November 2018


text: Labour Day at the NB Museum Back to Calendar 4 September Monday: Labour Day. The NBM Exhibition Centre will be open 9am-5pm. Free admission. Time September 4 2017 -5:00 am - 1:00 pm Location New Brunswick Museum Website http://www.nbm-mnb.ca Organized By New Brunswick Museum Cost Free Admission Latest Activity August 30, 2017 Add To A Calendar + Google Calendar


text:
Harrison VFW Newsletter December 2016
MERRY CHRISTMAS Comrades and friends. Christmas for me is a time of giving and remembering this great birth that changed the world. Whatever it is for you, feel safe that the members of the VFW and their families sacrifice for you to do whatever. Thanks to ALL our wonderful volunteers who donated items, gave money and came down and helped pack the 32 STUFFED boxes. Also, thanks to the Boy Scout troop 693 who came down both nights to help us. There will be happy troops somewhere far off and that is good. Some troopers will say they don't need it, but they do. I know I enjoyed opening up random boxes and getting something new in it, especially when I was in some remote areas. Thanks again for supporting this effort. I hope this Christmas season will bring you joy and happiness. I know for some of you there are struggles and I pray for your speeding relief. There is a lot of activity at the post this time of the year, so come and hang out and get involved. I will have to travel to Louisville for work this December a few times, but my thoughts are with you guys.
On Friday, December 16th, we will be going to the VA hospital to take presents and have a Bingo with veterans there. We will be leaving the Post at 5pm, or you can meet us there. See Booger if you have any questions. I should be at the final VFW member meeting. Let's have a big turn out, so we can look forward to a New Year. If I don't see you, Merry Christmas, Happy New and God Bless.
Michael W. Jones, Commander
Click Here (for pdf version of newsletter)
CANTEEN Open Mon. – Fri. at 3pm / Sat & Sun. at 8am
Canteen Open at Noon on Sun, 12/18
LOV-S Monthly Breakfast on Sat, 12/10: 8am-11:30am $7.00
Dance with Max & Joe –Sat., 12/10, 7:30pm
VFW Executive Board Meeting: Wed, 12/7, 7pm: All members (VFW, LOV-S, and Auxiliary) invited to attend to share ideas.
VFW Regular Meeting: Wed, 12/21, 7pm.
Max & Joe Line Dance every Wednesday in the Canteen (no cover) No on Dec. 21 and Dec. 28.
Line Dance Lessons every Monday, beginners at 6pm; regulars at 7pm $5. No on Dec. 26th.
Canteen Entertainment: Fri. 12/2: DJ John Summers; Fri, 12/9: Biggin; Fri. 12/16: Terry Collins and VFW Christmas Party; Fri. 12/23: Juke Box Nite; Fri. 12/30: Juke Box Nite
CANTEEN: NEW YEARS EVE: New Years Eve Party – Details to follow
Trip to VA Hospital: Fri., 12/16: Leave Post at 5pm
Jack Long, Trustee
Friday $5.00 Drawing: John Neal (100%); Larry Schlager (n/p); Susan Vaselevic (50%); Hazel Schuck (50%).
Happy Birthday John Jonas (85), Joe Blust, Jack Long, Wayne Bolington, Beth Crawford, Shannon Laug, Darrell Smith, Dee Robinson, Janet Rabenstein, Tony Jonas. Birthday Party is Sat, Dec 17, starting at 6pm with happy hour prices for Birthday Person til 9pm, birthday cake, juke box. Bring snack to share and invite some of your friends.
We have a long list of friends that are ill they are: Carl Bain, Joe Laugle, Joe Ecklar, Darlene Johnson, Tilly, Mary Reed, Judy Brown, Barb Bowling, Fay Mergenthal, Ann Hughes, Duffy Vines, Sandy White and Hilda Kober. Please keep these members and families in your prayers.
As always, please keep our service men and women, POW's & MIA's in your prayers.
Joe Eckler, Chaplain
We are doing a 50/50 raffle every Friday night. Our next meeting is Thurs, 12/1 at 7:30pm. I encourage all members to attend. There will be an update on the Auxiliary changes.
God Bless America.
Dave Wendell, President Men's Auxiliary
Thanks to all volunteers who volunteered for the Veterans Dinner and the Care Package Mailings.
LOV-s All You Can Eat Breakfast Saturday 12/10/16 8AM – 11:30AM. Lov-s Xmas party 12/15/16 6:30PM, bring a $10 gift for the gift exchange and a snack/appetizer to share. Breakfast with Santa is Saturday 12/17/16 9:30AM – 11:30AM – $3.00 for children 2 years +. Pancakes, sausage, milk, juice is included. Santa will arrive and he will bring gifts for each child that signed up, face painting, cookie decorating & Christmas music. Reservations are to be made no Later than Sat. 12/10 with the bartender or call Mary Ann 513-407-7090. We need the child's name, gender and age when you make your reservation. We will not have a LOV-s meeting this month due to the holidays. I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy & Healthy New Year.
God Bless Our Veterans
Mary Ann Callan, President LOV-S
The Post has helped in November: 170 Veterans and families with VA assistance, driving to Veterans facilities and assisting with paper work and finances. People helped thru Charitable Events using the Canteen, Event Center. Every Thursday at noon AA meets here. We have given out over $6,145.31 for our veteran members, local area needy, etc. It was a busy month month and that's what we are here for – to help! Post needs your help to step up and get active a few hrs. Each month!
Always looking for volunteers to help with the maintenance of our Post.
Thanks to all who donated items and money, we were able to send 32 packages to over 500 soldiers. The cost of shipping was $640 this year. A special thanks to Judy Brown (our fabulous shopper), Bev Hilmer, Janet Keifel, JoAnn Bill, Patty Vines, Pam Kerns, Jennifer Niehaus, Sue Sonderman, LeeAnn Buskirk, Linda Dole, Joey, Ken Fohl, Nancy Huck, Dave Wendel and Boy Scout troop 693.
PLEASE NOTE: If you want your newsletter mailed, please leave your address with a bartender at the Post. Otherwise, the newsletter is being e-mailed only. Extra copies are at the Post for you to pick up.
Sponsored by VFW Ohio Charities


text:
serves : 4
280 ml (1/2 pint) tinned mango pulp
Juice 1 lemon
1 tbsp clear honey
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
140 ml(1/4 pint) unsweetened orange juice
140 ml (1/4 pint) water
1 small piece of fresh root ginger (optional)
Orange slices to decorate
1. Put the mango pulp, lemon juice, honey, spices, orange juice and water into a blender or food processor and blend until smooth.
2. Put 2 or 3 ice cubes each into 4 glasses and divide the mango juice equally between them.
3. If using the fresh ginger, put this into a garlic crusher and squeeze a few drops of ginger into each glass.
4. Decorate with a slice of orange on the rim of each glass and serve.