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Last year, Jacqueline Guidry's stories appeared in Compose Journal, the Cumberland River Review, China Grove, and Still Point Arts Quarterly. Other works have appeared in the Arkansas Review, Rosebud, Southampton Review, Spitball, and elsewhere. She is addicted to KenKen, chocolate, and baseball, not necessarily in that order.
By the end of my first month of piano, Miss Harry pretty much pronounced me void of rhythm and close to tone deaf but tried to be tactful in laying out my faults, not wanting to offend my mother. She would've gladly forfeited me as a student. It was those planned lessons for my sisters, also marked for music when they reached fifth grade, she didn't want to lose.
No matter my miserable abilities, every Thursday found us at her piano and wishing we were elsewhere. She was taller than me but not much heavier so there was plenty of room on her bench for both of us. Her wrists were thick and bony, unlike her skinny arms and the rest of her skinny self, and her fingers were as narrow as mine but longer, stretched from being made to reach across nearly two octaves, a trick Alice, fourteen months younger than me and up next for lessons, refused to believe without seeing for herself.
I don't know who suffered more, Miss Harry or me. She clapped and demanded I strike the keys in that same pattern. She played five notes and looked to me for the sixth. The key I selected almost always produced the same rapid click of tongue against the roof of her mouth. Not that she intended insult, but when you've been clicking most of your life you don't hear yourself any more.
"How's the family?" She started every lesson that way and maybe really wanted to know whether Alice had gotten in trouble again for ignoring another critical fourth grade assignment, whether my youngest sister still hated our cousins, whether I'd gotten another perfect spelling score. More likely she was grabbing at any excuse to delay my hands touching her piano, a sensitively tuned instrument, she'd explained on my first day, responsive to the most delicate of strokes. Not how anyone would ever describe my playing.
"Fine," I always told her. My family wasn't lively these days. Boring really.
"Your daddy?"
"Fine." I drew out the word just short of her calling me on it.
"Still in Houston, I suppose." When I had nothing to say to that, she reluctantly let me start the scales. My family was as much a disappointment as I was and she probably regretted taking us on as a musical project.
. . .
We weren't a family who could afford many luxuries and I would've gladly sacrificed my lessons, an unnecessary expense if ever there was one. My daddy and I were of the same mind on that, but Mama had always wanted musical children. With luck, she might get that with one of my sisters. Why she couldn't skip over me to get to Alice, I couldn't say, but when it came to those lessons my mama was dug in deep.
Daddy, especially after he snagged the Houston job, got credit for a big share of the money Mama used to pay bills, piano included. She wasn't selfish when it came to giving credit and there was never any arguing on that score. "The check arrived," she'd say during a weekly phone call and then say whether she used the money for clothes, gas, or something else. When the something else was food, I chewed extra slowly at the next meal, reminding myself every bite came courtesy of my daddy. Alice chewed regular and gave me the look that said we'd eaten fine before Houston. She was right, but I liked finding reasons to think about our daddy, off in that new state of his.
"We'll be rolling in dough soon," he'd said as he packed for the crossover from Louisiana to Texas and the job that promised life on easy street. I'd been in third grade then and even now, two years later, had yet to see anyone rolling in dollar bills in our house. The only changes were the rented spinet and my lessons. That plus lots of ordinary days with my daddy gone missing most of the time.
If he'd still been with us, I'm sure Miss Harry would've been more pleased with my weekly reports because he was a fine one for kicking out ideas. There was the time, back when it was just me and Alice, that we filled the tub with ice from the Winn-Dixie and took turns cooling off. Mama got home from work and declared this his most ridiculous idea ever. Didn't Glen realize how dangerous summer pneumonia was? Did she always have to be the one taking care and watching out? That was his cue to say no family needed more than one ferocious watchdog, eyes glued to every misstep, and weren't we lucky to have Bea doing that job?
What she'd missed was that while everybody else complained about the August heat, we three took turns, naked except for our underpants, cooling in a bathtub filled with water, ice cubes floating all around us. Anyways, Alice and I didn't get sick. Daddy neither.
There was also the time he came home with chicks someone from work was giving away. Four yellows and a black. We were going to learn responsibility raising those babies into full-fledged chickens. Mama pointed out we didn't have a fenced yard or a coop and she was not having chickens in the house. She didn't raise her voice when she told him this and that told us the chicks would be gone by morning. They were. I hoped she found a good home for them, but when I asked, she refused to say.
My mother got like that sometimes. Ask the same question a million times over and if she didn't want to answer, she didn't.
. . .
Within three months, most of my lessons were punctuated by a ringing phone. I didn't think I was paranoid to suspect a plot afoot, Miss Harry arranging for someone to call. "Keep playing, Penelope," she said before leaving me for the caller she'd roped into dialing today.
If I were lining up Miss Harry's virtues, calling me Penelope would lead the list. My first grade teacher had decided no student in her class had any business with such a long name and I was going to be Penny in her room. I was too young and dumb to object, so that became my name at school and, soon enough, at home too because my mother decided she liked it, said she wished she had a cute nickname and I was lucky to have found one so early in life. Her own name and my daddy's didn't lend themselves to shortening and she seriously regretted that, as if finding nicknames might've made all the difference.
Anything at all was liable to get labeled "cute" by Mama. Alice and I rarely agreed with her, the exception being our baby sister with her curly brown hair and two dimples any doll would envy. "She came up with that curly hair all on her own," Tante May, Mama's sister, liked to say. "Didn't you make that gorgeous hair all on your own?" she was always asking. According to her, our baby sister's first word was "own." Mama disputed that, certain no child ever said "own" as a first word, but May insisted.
Kathleen wasn't quite four, yet already her name had been whacked to Kay-Kay, a much worse nickname than Penny. If someone threw Al or Ali at Alice, she'd throw the name right back and that would be the end of that. I liked to think I would've done the same if I hadn't been caught off guard. That's the burden of being oldest: You're the first to catch everything. The sisters who follow, duly warned, can ready themselves unless, of course, that sister is a baby still in diapers. By the time I realized the Penny mistake, I was in third grade, Daddy in Houston, and the chance for grabbing back Penelope gone, likely forever. But Miss Harry reminded me who I'd started out being and I appreciated that.
I wondered whether anyone ever called her Harriet or whether her full name had also been lost for good. Did she wish someone called her by the name that carried more possibilities than plain Harry? I'd oblige if I could think of a good reason to say her full name out loud.
"Can't talk but a minute," she said after the initial phone greeting. "Penelope is having her lesson," she explained as if the caller didn't already know.
I stopped playing as soon as she got past "hello." She was in the parlor, the room where most people kept their pianos, but hers was in what had been her front bedroom. With her son grown and her husband dead, she had no need for a second bedroom and plenty of need for extra cash, or so said my mama.
Miss Harry's sister came over most days around noon and the parlor was where they watched their favorite shows. Some days, when no one called to interrupt my lesson, Miss Harry had me doing finger stretches and while I stretched—anything to keep me off her piano—she told me what she and Donna had eaten that day and caught me up on the latest goings-on in her soaps where everybody had messy lives but good jobs that paid plenty. Neither of us could figure out how any of them found time to practice law or medicine or run a business given the state of their home affairs, complicated enough to keep a person occupied morning to night.
Today's call covered one of my favorite topics. Eloise Gautier, president of the Ladies Altar Society no less, spent more time with Father Murphy than any of her predecessors. Never one for daily Mass, she'd been spotted at six o'clock services every morning since the start of last summer. With this being the end of March, that was too much devotion to be considered normal. She'd been widowed close to four years and that much time alone just naturally gave a person ideas. Miss Harry and her caller knew all about this and I waited for an explanation, but none came.
After services, Father Murphy greeted parishioners at the door. He asked about a grandmother's arthritis, a son's deployment, a baby's due date, a lady's new hairstyle and sounded interested in all of it. A priest interested in actual lives was a new one on us. Our former pastor, an elderly German, had wanted as little to do with his flock as possible. No wonder a number of church ladies found themselves with greater need for spiritual guidance, though Eloise looked to be the only one robustly pursuing her interest.
None of the other ladies approved her bold tactics and there'd been talk of asking her to step down as president. She was giving the Altar Society a bad name. The problem was the by-laws made no provision for kicking out a duly elected president. How could the by-laws committee have anticipated this?
That's where things stood when my mother pulled up and Miss Harry trotted back double time, calling, "Play, Penelope, play."
I banged those keys for all I was worth, guaranteeing another check for her and another installment in the story for me. Here's what I was wondering as I let my fingers choose their keys: Were Eloise and Father Murphy thinking of running away? Where could a priest run and not be found? People's troubles always interested me. Too much so, according to my mama.
I didn't think I could be the only student who needed phone breaks and was certain there was all manner of interesting news getting dished out when I wasn't around. I hoped Alice proved as tone deaf as me, though I knew that even with both of us listening, we'd never learn everything.
. . .
On Thursdays I walked from school to those lessons and about half the time walked with Yvonne Lunde, the Swedish girl in my class and worth knowing if only because she was so different from the rest of us. She took violin at the music studio a few blocks past Miss Harry's but only twice a month.
"Miss Harry says the studio charges too much." I shifted my book bag from one hand to the other. I was ready to be done with school and wished summer wasn't a full two months away.
"Mother doesn't mind." She spoke with an odd accent and never said Mama, though by now I was used to that.
"No one wants to pay extra," I said. "We pay twenty a month even when there's an extra Thursday. Twenty for four Thursdays, twenty for five, depending on the month."
"Good deal, okay." Yvonne was always okaying things. I didn't know how she'd decided it was the best English word, but she had. When you asked how she ended up in this country and made it all the way down to our tiny southwest Louisiana town, not a single Swede to be found, she said her mother decided. Okay? Okay by me.
"Miss Harry doesn't know violins." I pointed at the case she carried in one hand, book bag filled with the same dull assignments as mine in the other. The best part about piano was you didn't have to lug the instrument everywhere you went.
"If you want to stick with violin, you have to stick with the studio." Like my daddy, I didn't like the idea of paying too much for music or anything else. Once, in Ashe's hardware, he'd pulled me and Alice aside, pointed at a set of screwdrivers, the most expensive on the shelf, and demanded to know who'd choose that overpriced item over its cheaper sister products. "Fools," Alice and I called out at the same time and that had gotten all three of us hee-hawing like donkeys on the loose, loud enough to earn us suspicious glances from the clerk dawdling in the aisle.
"If you switched to piano, Miss Harry could give the lessons," I told Yvonne. "Twenty a month," I added to remind her what a good deal she'd be getting.
"Mother says violin is best."
I'd never met this mother of hers. She never brought treats for a class party, chaperoned a field trip, acted as parent monitor on the playground, or even went to the Christmas concert, which most parents and grandparents knew they were obligated to attend. I imagined her as a stretched out version of Yvonne, tall and big-boned, blonde and blue-eyed. But whatever she looked like, she was more extravagant than I could imagine my family being. Mama was set on music but if drum lessons were cheaper than piano, I'd be a drummer.
"Violin is a good instrument," she said.
"Piano's not bad."
"You hate piano."
"I never blamed the piano. I just have no talent." How could I forget Miss Harry's pronouncement back in the fall?
"No talent." She'd never heard me play and I didn't appreciate this quick agreement.
"Hear from your daddy lately?" While I'd never seen her mother, I had no doubt as to her existence. Jessie Domingue had spotted her registering Yvonne for school last September and had said good morning and received a good morning in return. Jessie wanted to be a game show host and was always practicing her greeting skills. At least she didn't pretend to have had an actual conversation with the lady.
Yvonne's father? He was a horse of a different color as my daddy, the Texas man, might say. When he first left us for Houston, Alice and I were united in our demand that he come home every weekend. "All that driving? You girls crazy? All by myself with no one to pass the time, mile after mile? That's not like hopping to the grocery store and back. What you have here is a horse of a whole different color." When he said that, we were equally confused over what horses had to do with his coming home. Later, we came to understand that was Texas talk.
He'd rented a studio, though he never mentioned having Texans over to practice Texas talk with him. Except for the bathroom, closed off from the rest of the apartment, he lived in a single open space. I was sure I wouldn't like that, bedroom and kitchen and parlor squeezed together, but my daddy thought different. "You can hardly imagine the quiet when I walk into my place," he'd told me over the phone.
How much noise had we made? Not that much, not really. Even if we'd been loud some days, didn't he remember how much of the noise had been coming from him?
I had a list of things to say when anybody pushed me about my daddy, but if you asked Yvonne about hers, all she did was speed up until words tumbled out of her mouth faster and faster as she raced away from your questions and, I was pretty sure, away from the truth. Father? No one knew whether she had one.
According to Jessie, a know-it-all like most game show hosts, lots of kids in Sweden don't live with their fathers. They have them, of course, just don't have much to do with them. If we were in Sweden most of our class wouldn't be living with their fathers, she told the group she'd gathered around herself soon after Yvonne's arrival. No one gave me sideways glances when she said that and I was grateful they were too absorbed in her story to think of Houston. "In Sweden, fathers disappear," she said. "Nobody knows where they go. They just disappear," she said again, leaving the rest of us to imagine a caravan of Swedish fathers buried under an avalanche or skiing smartly across the country, eluding detection in the wily manner of Swedish fathers.
While I'd never been to Houston, I knew exactly how far it was from Ville d'Angelle. At the start of the school year, I'd checked Mrs. Joubert's atlas during a free period and kept the number in my head. Ville d'Angelle to Houston: 218 miles. That might be off by a few miles, 210 or 225 being the number from our house to Daddy's apartment, but I saw 218 as close enough. I doubted Yvonne knew the same about her father's whereabouts. If a father was in Houston, right around 218 miles away, he didn't count as disappeared.
We were only a couple of houses from Miss Harry's when I asked the father question and felt bad as soon as the words left my mouth but couldn't come up with anything to pull us away from what I'd said.
"My father, he is well. Working hard. Important job. Not Houston. Okay?" Each word fell out of her mouth faster than the one before.
"Okay," I said and turned up the walk to Miss Harry's.
My playing was especially poor that afternoon, my fingers landing on one wrong note after another, Miss Harry's tongue clicking more desperately than usual. When the phone finally rang, we were both relieved.
"I won't be but a minute." She didn't tell me to keep playing and I took that to mean either she thought I needed a break from the noises I was making or that even from the parlor, the disjointed notes would be too much for her to bear.
As soon as she left, I slipped off the bench to stand near the doorframe between piano room and parlor. I didn't recognize the person she mentioned. Addie was someone's cousin in Bunkie. A shortened version of Adelaide? Adeline? Or was Addie as much name as she'd ever had? Would an Adelaide have moved away while an Addie was doomed to a humdrum life in Bunkie?
Alice said I wasted too much time thinking about nicknames, but she'd never had one foisted on her. No telling the girl I might be right now if I'd held on to Penelope. Somebody with rhythm and tone? Somebody who wasn't always poking her nose into other people's business? Somebody whose daddy didn't move to Houston where people talked funny and probably acted that way too? Maybe yes to all of that and more.
I wandered to the end table, where Miss Harry stacked her True Confessions, and flipped through the pile. The issue from last week was gone and that was too bad. Cindy, whose lesson usually followed mine, had a doctor's appointment so we'd switched times. I'd sat on the rocker, the room's only seat besides the piano bench, grabbed a magazine, and read about a lady who didn't realize she'd married a serial killer until his hands were around her throat and tightening. Lucky for her, right then her sister walked in and put a stop to matters. I pictured Alice in the role of savior, the matter-of-fact way she'd put an end to serial killing.
"Doesn't she play nicely?" Miss Harry said. There hadn't been a single click the whole time Cindy played.
As soon as I struck the first note, the clicking started. I wasn't sure I could finish a piece at her piano without that accompaniment. I wanted to urge Cindy to finish the story, which I'd left open on the table. Was the woman set free or shackled to a jailbird because she loved him no matter his serial killing ways? But each time I glanced at her, she was watching out the window, ignoring the magazine. Mama says not every child feels compelled to read any old thing that presents itself and Cindy proved her right about that.
. . .
When weather permitted, Miss Harry waited for me on her red porch glider. A person who didn't know better might think she was eager for my arrival, but I knew any eagerness was all about getting on with the lesson so she could be done with the lesson.
Until this afternoon, she'd never given any sign of noticing Yvonne but now clapped twice the way she did when she called her toy poodle, Madame, to her side. That was a really obedient little dog. Smart too, Miss Harry said, and I didn't doubt it. If Madame had fingers instead of paws, I'm sure she'd play a fine piano.
But today there was no Madame and I didn't need a special summons. Those claps could only be meant for Yvonne.
"Okay, okay," Yvonne said to calm herself before turning with me and walking up the short walk to the porch.
Miss Harry stood as if we were guests, not children rarely greeted by adults. "Penelope, I thought you'd like to introduce me to your friend."
I looked over at Yvonne standing so close, our shoulders touched. We stayed put, didn't climb the single step needed to get us on the porch. The thought of an introduction had never occurred to either of us, but I straightened my back and tried to look the way an introducer should. "This is my friend, Yvonne. This is my piano teacher, Miss Harry." When I called out their names, both of them gave quick little nods and I decided I'd do the same if I ever got introduced, though I couldn't imagine when that might happen since I pretty much knew everybody.
She pointed at Yvonne's case. "A lovely instrument the violin. My favorite next to piano."
"Okay." She was shy with adults and that favorite word of hers might be the only one Miss Harry was getting this afternoon.
"There wasn't any music studio when I was your age. If you had talent, it was the piano or the church choir. That was it." She glanced my way and I was sure we were thinking the same thing: A no-talent like me didn't need a music studio in her town.
Yvonne grabbed the chance, with Miss Harry focused on me instead of her, to take a baby step closer to the curb.
"I imagine you're past the squeaking stage." Her eyes were back on Yvonne, probably wishing she was already at her lesson, though she'd skipped practice three days these past weeks and knew she'd be in trouble. Like Miss Harry, Yvonne's violin teacher was a fiend for practicing. If I practiced half as much as Miss Harry wanted, I probably would've found myself some rhythm. "Beginning violinists always squeak." She covered each ear with a palm to demonstrate what she'd do if a violin started squeaking nearby. Point for piano. Even I couldn't make it squeak.
"Yvonne's from Sweden," I said, thinking we'd spent more than enough time on instruments.
"That right? I'm sure Sweden's a lovely country."
"Okay," Yvonne said.
She waited to see if Yvonne wanted to add more, but I could've told her the chances of that were slim. "You don't want to be late for your lesson, Penelope," she said and opened her front door, pointing me inside as if I'd been the one causing the delay.
With Miss Harry right behind me, I didn't have a chance to say goodbye but heard Yvonne's footsteps hurrying away.
After our telephone break, Miss Harry settled back on the bench and decided we'd spend the last several minutes reviewing sheet music. "Think the notes," she said. I couldn't play them so how she thought I could think them was beyond me. Then again, thinking notes was a big improvement over hearing them.
"Your friend, she looks like the violin suits her."
Did pianists also carry a certain look, one I most definitely lacked? "Sometimes her teacher says she plays well, but I've never heard her." Neither of us was much interested in thinking notes.
"It's just her and her mother. That's what Donna says." Her sister, also widowed, knew just about everything there was to know in Ville d'Angelle and what she missed, Miss Harry caught. Between the two of them, Tante May said, they had the town covered. "No father in the picture."
I stared at the sheet music on the stand, frowned to show how hard I was concentrating on thinking the sounds, on not thinking about anything else.
"Nobody knows what happened to him," she said.
I could've shared Jessie's take on Swedish fathers but kept quiet. The less said about fathers the better.
. . .
The next day, Yvonne and I were partnered for math. We zipped through the first two worksheets and would've done the same with the third, but then we'd have no blanks to show Mrs. Joubert when she leaned over us and she'd throw more work our way. Instead, we took turns tapping our pencils on the edge of the table we shared and looking puzzled over those blanks.
"Keep thinking," Mrs. Joubert said, buying our message of being stumped. "You'll figure it out."
When she was past our desks and stooped next to other partners, Yvonne and I exchanged grins. Math was easy for both of us, but this wasn't something our teacher needed to remember every second of every day.
"Miss Harry. You like her?" She spoke in a low voice. During partner work, you had to be quieter than regular indoor quiet. Otherwise, there'd be a racket and if there was one thing Mrs. Joubert hated as much as idle hands, it was rackets.
"I don't mind her."
"Me neither," she said, though she'd only met her that once.
I bent over worksheet three when Mrs. Joubert glanced over.
"She calls you Penelope." She tapped her pencil twice to underline how challenging the worksheet was proving. "Your long name, it's okay."
"She waited twenty years for her husband to get back from war."
"Twenty? Miss Harry?"
"Penelope. She was Greek and spent twenty years waiting."
"Twenty is many years."
"I don't think I'd wait that long for anybody," I said.
"Not for anybody?" she asked as if not waiting could be a big mistake.
Were Swedish fathers known to reappear after absences of twenty years, even longer? Did a family, children graduated from high school and working regular jobs, look up from the supper table one night to see a father slipping into his chair as casually as if he'd never left back when they were in third grade or second grade or even still in diapers?
. . .
Alice plopped next to me for the bus ride home. She usually sat with Nora, but her friend had been off sick since Wednesday and the only other fourth graders on our bus were three boys Alice didn't like and a girl who didn't like Alice. My own usual bus companion must've caught Nora's disease. According to Alice, that consisted of a sore throat, stuffy nose, and temperature. Since getting the information, I'd been monitoring my throat, testing my swallows every so often to see whether I detected the start of pain. So far, nothing.
"Nora's better, but her mama still made her stay home," Alice said.
"Lucky for her." We both knew our mother would have us back at school as fast as a fever broke or one nostril opened enough to let in the thinnest stream of air.
"She'll be back Monday."
Nora was the only girl Alice liked in her class. There were several others she tolerated, but who wanted to spend recess with someone no better than that? "She'll have a lot of make-up work," I said.
"Sometimes you don't have to do it all." Alice hated worksheets and her teacher used them much more than mine did. She was looking forward to fifth if for no other reason than to escape those worksheets. The bulging book bag at her feet was close to overflowing with them, some blank, others half completed, many with dragon drawings instead of the answers her teacher wanted. Dragons, the more savage the better, had been her specialty since Daddy left. Unlike Alice, I understood how to fill out worksheets, avoid trouble, and not let boredom drive me crazy.
Tante May had declared Alice, poor student that she was, the smartest of our entire family, adults included. My mother had said she was certain all three of her daughters were budding geniuses. May said nothing to this, but the look on her face told the world what she thought of Bea's idea and told me, in particular, that good grades weren't the final word on smarts. We all agreed on Kay-Kay being the prettiest and if Alice was the smartest, where did that leave me?
I had no musical ability and suspected other shortcomings and that made me ask Mama to set out my special gift. I was looking to balance my failings with a virtue, but she didn't see it that way. The first time I asked, she said she didn't know where I came up with these questions, no answer at all. By the end of the day, when even I knew I'd asked too many times, she told me to stop fishing for compliments, meaning she couldn't come up with my special gift any more than I could. If my father came home more than twice a year, a week at Christmas and another in late July or early August, I would've gotten his opinion. But if my mother, who saw me every day, couldn't come up with an answer, how could he?
. . .
When we got off the bus, Kay-Kay sat cross-legged at her regular spot at the end of the drive, looking as if she'd spent her entire day there. Not so, we knew. She'd been two doors down with Tante May and her twins, identical boys six months older than Kay-Kay and so alike even their mother had trouble telling them apart.
"Fudge bars," Kay-Kay called out. An announcement of the afternoon snack waiting in the kitchen was her standard greeting. She jumped up and ran into the house, eager for first dibs at those snacks. Today that was a waste of time because one fudge bar tasted the same as another, but my baby sister had her routines and if you tried to talk her out of them, she burst into screams or tears, depending on her mood. Unless something serious was at stake, Alice and I left Kay-Kay to her habits and avoided the commotion.
Mama would arrive in about an hour from Prejean's Pharmacy where she wasn't a pharmacist but more than a cashier or clerk. If a customer asked, she was ready to dispense advice. What was best for acid indigestion? Was this pain reliever better than that one? Did she believe generic tissues were as good as more expensive brands? Although her answers to medication questions changed as new products rolled out, she always said the same about tissues. Brand names were much softer than generic and worth the extra nickels. My daddy kept his eye on price, my mama on quality. Sometimes their views met but oftentimes not.
Though she'd been at the pharmacy for as long as I could remember, stopping for only a few months when Kay-Kay came along, all those recommendations she handed out never stopped annoying Daddy. What gave her the idea that working in a drugstore made her an expert in anything? She could have an opinion, couldn't she? Not if the opinion was garbage, based on rumors and nothing scientific. What did he know about scientific? As much as she did. No one needed a degree to name the best kind of tissue or the pain medication customers preferred. Eventually, they grew tired of drugstore arguing, but he still stuck to his position as she did to hers.
They should've done the same all the other times he said yes and she said no, just mutter about certain people being blind to plain facts then let it go. But most times neither my mama nor daddy could resist the temptation to let the world know how right they were.
On those nights, Alice and I sat on our beds, faced each other, and hoped for the latest upset to settle. If that didn't come soon enough, one of us called out, "Fools." The other answered with the same word and soon the room was too full of our voices to leave space for any competing sound. We were usually loud enough to distract them and either they called to us to get quiet or else turned quiet themselves. When they turned quiet we didn't know what was happening in the parlor. For a girl like me, who liked to know everything, not knowing was the most worrisome of all.
When too many minutes of quiet passed, I asked Alice, "You hungry?" We might've just finished supper, but I still asked and she still said yes.
"You want to split a banana?" I asked.
"Might as well."
That's when we stepped into the hall and headed to the kitchen though getting a single banana didn't need two of us. We pretended we weren't checking on Mama and Daddy, were just set on that banana and that was all. The TV was on low so it wouldn't wake Kay-Kay. They needn't have bothered because the girl had proved she could sleep through dynamite. Some of those nights, they'd be cuddled next to each other, Mama's head tucked under Daddy's chin. On those nights, Alice and I forgot all about the banana and joined them on the sofa to watch whatever was playing. Soon, Daddy would say he sure wouldn't mind a bowl of popcorn. Mama'd say she wouldn't mind a bowl herself. Then they went to the kitchen, Daddy's hand on the small of Mama's back or across her shoulders, to cook up that popcorn, more complicated than grabbing a banana but not complicated enough to need two people.
Other nights, TV on, Mama and Daddy, faces stiff and hard from struggling to hold back on what they wanted to yell out, hugged their separate corners of the sofa. Banana nights for me and Alice. We went back to our bedroom but didn't bother peeling the fruit until the next morning.
Since Houston, Mama's reports about the pharmacy advice she was handing out had expanded considerably. Alice and I weren't sure what to make of that. Had she been promoting toothpaste brands and mouthwash, this type of bandage instead of that, honey lozenges over cherry all along, preferring not to goad Daddy with all she knew? Or had his departure expanded her expertise in a mysterious way we didn't understand? If Daddy stayed in Houston twenty years, who could guess how much she'd end up knowing?
. . .
As soon as Alice finished her fudge bar, she was on the phone. Every day after her snack, she called Nora and they spoke for exactly ten minutes, all Mama allowed. What if there was an emergency and someone was trying to call? No one had ever called to report an emergency of any kind, but Mama thought this might be in our future and wanted the phone line free to receive it. She never inquired whether Alice exceeded her allotted time because when my sister promised, you could count on her. Those few times her teacher wrangled a promise out of her to finish one of those worksheets, my sister did as she'd said she would. A promise from Alice was gold, Daddy said. That was why if she did go past her ten minutes, she promptly reported both the excess and the explanation for why extra talking had been necessary.
While Alice talked, I listened to Kay-Kay's complaints about the twins. The litany was the usual—pulling her hair when she refused to give up the only dump truck in the sandbox, grabbing more than a fair share of chips from the bowl Tante May set out at lunch, refusing to move when she asked politely and told them they were blocking the television. "Jack and George," she said and shook her head with disgust in the way that made her look a lot older than three going on four.
"Jack and George," I repeated to let her know I understood exactly what she was dealing with every day.
After she got done complaining, Kay-Kay set up the three dolls she'd selected for today's styling, lining them on the parlor floor in front of the set. She combed and watched cartoons while I did homework, getting rid of the weekend's obligation.
Alice hung up then went to our room to work on her dragon village. When Mama'd brought home a three-pack of posters, damaged by an out-of-control child and given to her by Mr. Prejean, Alice had claimed the whole package for herself. Since I didn't have any use for the things, I didn't raise a fuss. She'd been needing large sheets of paper for a village of dragons, she said, but posters were even better. I asked how long she'd been wishing for those sheets, which she'd never mentioned before that afternoon, and she said close to five weeks. This made me wonder what else my sister wanted but never bothered saying out loud. She might have a long list of wants and the first I'd know of it would be when another gift fell into her lap.
If Daddy walked through the front door right now, declared himself done with Houston, would Alice's wishing be the reason? Maybe the dragon pictures she mailed him were reeling him back to us. I wouldn't mind giving her credit and neither would our baby sister who was out of sorts for days after one of his visits. She hadn't celebrated her second birthday when he moved to Texas, so how could she miss him that much? Alice and I decided Kay-Kay was somebody who didn't need to hold a fluffy chick against her cheek or spend a hot afternoon in a tub of ice water for love to plant itself.
Days like today, when she'd had an especially trying time, she closed her beauty shop early, left the dolls on the floor, and curled next to me on the sofa. Fighting those cousins took it out of her. She sucked a thumb and snuggled closer while I read a science chapter.
. . .
Next Thursday, Yvonne and I walked slower than usual. If we were a few minutes late for lessons, who cared? The sidewalk took us past the pharmacy where Mama, busy advising a customer, waved from her window. Most of the yards we passed had flowers, this being April, and I called out the names I knew—Easter lily, azalea, rose, pansy—and then Yvonne called out the names she knew but those being Swedish, nothing she said made sense.
When we reached Miss Harry's block, Yvonne slowed even more. "Miss Harry," she said. "She might clap for me?"
"I don't know."
"Okay." She didn't sound okay.
Unless Miss Harry stepped off her porch and walked down to the sidewalk, she couldn't see us at the far end of the block. I stopped and Yvonne did the same. The fenced yard in front of us had two willows and a myrtle but no flowers. We exchanged tree names then went quiet.
"Everybody wants to know my father," she said after a while and reached a hand over the picket fence to touch the bark of the myrtle, the tree closest to us.
"Some people want to know everything." Didn't I know this too well? Jessie at school. Miss Harry and her sister. Who knew how many of her regular callers? When's Penelope's daddy coming home? I had no trouble seeing the topic regularly featured during other kids' lessons but liked to think no one eavesdropped as carefully as I did.
"My father working important job, I say. Okay?"
"Even after they know my daddy's in Houston, they keep asking."
"Your father coming to see you? They ask and ask."
"Soon. That's what I tell any busybody who won't leave me alone." I put my hand next to hers. The myrtle's bark was rough but not painful.
"That is true?"
When too much time passed without my answering, she said, "Okay." The single word told me there was no need to ask whether she expected her father in Louisiana any time soon.
Only two days earlier I'd discovered the postcard and nothing seemed to have changed. Here was Yvonne still okaying the world. Alice had her dragons, the village growing bigger every day. Kay-Kay had her cousin feud, Mama her advice giving, Daddy his Houston life. I was sure I looked the same to everybody else too, but when I closed my eyes, there was that postcard, the Texas longhorn staring straight at me with evil intent in its eyes.
The night table drawer in Mama and Daddy's bedroom had been hanging open and all I'd planned to do was shut it. Mama liked things neat and in order. But when I saw the longhorn ready to stampede off the card, I had to pick it up and then I had to turn it over and then I had to read what my daddy wrote with his loopy letters, loops squeezed together to fit all the words in the small space. The postmark showed he'd sent the message only a week after leaving us the first time and I wished I'd found it earlier. Either that or not found it at all. Not as much money as I expected. He started without a greeting as if this was the continuation of a long-running exchange.
Jumping in the middle of someone else's conversation should've been a warning, told me to put down the card, close the drawer. But I've never been a girl to heed every warning. Alice and I are true sisters in that way and maybe Kay-Kay will be the same when she's older.
I looked up from the card, but no one was at the door, come to get me.
It's all best this way, Bea. Okay? That last reminded me of Yvonne. Okay? Okay? For you, for me, for our little fillies. Already he'd turned into a Texas cowboy with new ways of thinking about his daughters. Did Swedish fathers announce their departures this way?
I thought about showing Alice the card then decided against it for now. When you're the oldest, you have to warn your sisters about what's coming, but sometimes you can't expect them to carry as much as you do. Sisters can be the smart ones or the beautiful ones or the ones who see the world exactly as it is. If you're that last sister, no matter how hard you hope for something different, the world doesn't change shapes for you.
Maybe Daddy would be back in twenty years. Maybe not. Twenty years was a long time to wait and I wasn't sure a girl called Penny was up to it.


text:
Flavorah is food grade flavouring made for vaping.
It is 100% tobacco and nicotine free. Flavorah cannot be used directly in an e-cigarette. It is intended for further processing by vape manufactures in the crafting of vape liquid.
Unlike other concentrated ejuice flavors that were formulated for candy, beverages, and baking, Flavorah's high potency and unique flavor profiles makes it the real choice for vapor. We put the power into your hands to blend and customize your vaping experience by making the same undiluted flavors available for DIY that are used by many commercial ejuice manufactures.

subset: commoncrawl


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I woke up feeling a little anxious. I'd gone to sleep in a worried state of mind about my website, of all things. I'm in the process of re-writing a lot of the content to better reflect how I see my work following the profound shifts and insights I've had over the last year. However, I've been in that process for months because the insights just keep coming and part of me senses that I simply need to wait.
But there's that part of me that's hooked by the drama out there. The "need" to have a perfect website, with perfect copy and perfect photos. And when I get hooked into that drama, not having my website up to date feels like possibly the most important thing in my world.
And the more I get hooked, the more anxious I feel.
So I woke up feeling a little anxious. Feeling as though I absolutely must, finally, today, figure out the website.
And then as I walked into the bathroom, I remembered:
No, my website isn't causing me any anxiety, but my thinking about it in this moment is. I'm feeling my thinking in the moment. And although the anxious feeling didn't disappear immediately, it lost its grip as I moved behind it and saw that my anxiety was a collection of thoughts about a situation that was also a collection of thoughts.
Many people write and tell me they suffer from anxiety or tell me they're an anxious person. And I absolutely feel the limitation and suffering involved in that because "being anxious" is something I told myself for years too. But the beautiful, wonderful thing I see now is that the only thing any of us are ever suffering from is our thinking in this moment.
I wake up one morning and feel anxious. I take note of that feeling and recognise it's uncomfortable. I also have a sense of it not being a "good" or "right" thing to feel so I generate more thinking that says I should try and stop feeling anxious. This seems to do nothing but make me feel more anxious.
Before long, I've had a thought that anxiety is now part of my life and part of who I am. Next time the anxious feeling comes back I use it as proof and I create a belief about who I am out of what was nothing more than a feeling coming from some thinking in a particular moment.
Now I walk around with the story of myself as an anxious person. Now I'm someone who suffers from anxiety. And that story limits and affects my life in all sorts of ways. I also believe I have a problem I need to fix. Or worse, I believe I need to fix myself, since I've decided anxiety is who I am.
But imagine for a moment the ocean on a stormy day. The waves are crashing and rolling. They rise up and collapse again in great mountains of spray and deafening smacks.
And yet travel down beneath those waves and you'll find stillness. The further down you go, the more you experience a calm, peaceful ocean that lives and goes on unaffected by the waves rolling around up there.
And so it is with you.
In every moment, no matter what surface level disruption appears to be going on in your life, there exists a deep ocean of calm beneath. This peaceful stillness is always with you. In fact, it's your very nature. It's who you are. It can't be removed, broken or damaged and there are no human beings made without it.
Your anxiety is the storm of your current thinking. It's here so we must accept it. Would we expect the ocean to reject a stormy wave? How could it, even if it wanted to? So the ocean embraces it all, knowing that sooner or later the storm will pass, leaving it free to experience more deeply its innate peace and stillness which is always just below the surface.
You're not an anxious person any more than the ocean is a stormy wave. Anxiety is just one more thing you get to experience from time to time as a human being. And as you begin to see and raise your awareness that the anxiety you feel is coming from you thinking in the moment, you can allow it to be there without it being the problem it was before. Because now it's not something you need to fix or get rid of, it's just a passing storm that's part of your experience. You can literally feel the anxiety that's happening right now and at the very same time know that you're totally ok.
And the more you remember this and sit behind the anxiety whilst the anxiety is going on, knowing that the deep ocean of calm and stillness is right there where it's always been, you'll find that over time, without you having to "do" anything at all to rid yourself of anxiety, you actually start to experience it less of the time.
The most profound, life changing shifts are often so imperceptible we can't even say what's happened. We just wake up one morning and notice how life feels different.
Love and courage,


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This is the sixth piece for my ongoing series called 'Four Line Tries', where I release four line poems. If you wish to submit your own four line poem, let me know at firstname.lastname@example.com. The imagery here comes courtesy of Miyazaki's Ponyo (2008).
earthing for an earthquaking,
my ladder to the moon will be done
in four centuries, but if you'll wait
in line over there, we can get started


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No one likes double standards, especially when those in power blatantly apply them.
The USPTO's Patent Trial and Appeal Board judges make the case that parties should put forth their best arguments in the initial filings. This avoids the potential gamesmanship of purposely holding back arguments, watching how the decision maker responds, and then re-tooling the arguments and evidence accordingly. In LG Electronics, Inc. v. ATI Technologies (IPR2015-01620, challenging US 7,095,945), LG attempted to remedy deficiencies for some of the challenged claims in their first petition by filing a second petition for review, and then moving for joinder (as without joinder, the second petition was time-barred). The PTAB explained that giving LG a second bite at the apple would encourage holding back arguments and create extra filings and delay:
"A decision to institute review on some claims should not act as an entry ticket, and a how-to guide . . . to challenge those claims which [the petitioner] unsuccessfully challenged in the first petition." ZTE Corp. et al. v. ContentGaurd Holdings, Inc., Case IPR2013-00454, slip op. at. 5–6 (PTAB Sept. 25, 2013) (Paper 12). The Board is concerned about encouraging, unnecessarily, the filing of petitions that are partially inadequate. Id. By "[p]ermitting second chances" the Board needs to "be mindful not only of this proceeding, but of 'every proceeding'" when exercising its discretion, for such cases will inevitably "tie[] up the Board's limited resources." See Samsung Elecs., et al. v. Rembrandt Wireless Tech., LP, Case IPR2015-00555, slip op. at 8 (PTAB June 19, 2015) (Paper 20) (exercising discretion under 35 U.S.C. § 325(d) to deny institution and finding motion for joinder moot).
If only this logic was applied by the USPTO officials policing actions of Examiners. Consider re-opening prosecution after the PTAB reverses an Examiner. The Examiner reviews the PTAB decision noting the deficiency upon which the decision was based and then simply forms a new rejection addressing this deficiency (e.g., by adding a new reference). This is precisely the same approach LG hoped to follow. While re-opening prosecution after reversal requires approval of the Technology Center director, MPEP § 121.04 does not set forth any threshold standard that must be met. In contrast, the panel in the LG case noted that LG presented "no argument or evidence that" the newly cited references were not known or available at the filing of the first petition. This burden is in the context of other PTAB practices of discouraging multiple sets of "redundant" arguments, where no such limit is applied to Examiners at all.
As another example, consider petitions against restriction requirements. There are numerous examples where an improper petition is recognized by the reviewing authority, only for the reviewing authority to communicate ex parte directly with the Examiner as to how to remedy the restriction (discussed in a previous post). Or sometimes, the reviewing authority remedies the Examiner's deficiency directly. Consider the example from US 13/307,532.
While it may be true that there is a difference between petitioners at the PTAB and examination before an Examiner, this does not change the fact that the same general policy arguments apply. One could argue that the policy considerations are actually more applicable to the Examiner situation since we should be less concerned with a private party opting to waste their own time in filing extra petitions before the PTAB as compared to Examiner's causing wasted effort on the part of both the Office and private parties with no control over the situation.


text:
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text:
How To Buy A Prom Dress Online
It is fair to say that almost all of women love fashion and carrying stunning clothes. One of the most important advantages of the net purchasing for clothes is that you could buy your garments regardless of what time it is. If you normally are engaged with work at the office until late, take care of your youngsters during day, having classes at the university and it seems that you do not have sufficient time for purchasing, buying your apparel on-line is the proper resolution.
Please don't purchase any jewelry set(specialy a pearl) in INDIA TIMES SHOPPING as a result of they miss out many units and my they give you bad quality on this and again they wont change it and even they know that any Currier guys they wont take jewelry item so Times people they ask as to send it our personal and they preserve give up till we fed up and stop asking.
India's new online shopping website has been launched in Bangalore with the class shopper electronics, pc, servers and more. For a extra informal look you can workforce your costume with flats, a sling bag and some enjoyable accessories, all really helpful to you by your private stylist! I agree some of the shopping sites are becoming fashionable day-to-day, for his or her enticing gives and quick and environment friendly companies. Just like ebay this also brings various sellers at one place for handy and cheap shopping. I additionally do a little bit of shopping Online, but extra comfy with conventional methods of buying. Junglee is an internet comparison shopping website which provides handy and straightforward alternative for buyers.
Companies akin to Flipkart, Amazon, and Snapdeal have gotten big funding and generated gross sales extra sooner compared to different procuring malls These companies have develop into billion dollar entities with their ability to deliver something and the whole lot that a consumer needs. Beyond the robe, there are various types of casual costume, such as the mini-dress, the sheath gown, the shift dress, the sweater gown…a lot so, in actual fact, that girls are spoilt for selection. If you want to promote your personal products then that is also attainable and changing into a seller is very straightforward compared to another online buying site. Amazon India is headquartered in Bangalore and giving its rivals a hard time. Ebay was the primary major corporations to enter the e-commerce market in India and must say it is nonetheless going nice with thoughts-boggling gross sales figures. On deserves and demerits of online buying I will say that deserves outnumber demerits.
I do some on-line buying, though I really wish to feel issues with my fingers before buying! Bodycon Dresses – Bodycon clothes online is tight fitted, determine hugging and stretchable in nature. If you're in Australia attempt to find a retailer sending their packages out using the Australia Post Express community, or through a reliable courier firm.


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Travelers have been waiting a long time for the Saudi Arabia e-visa. The initiative was first discussed in 2006, but only now the last details are being talked about, and the bylaws are ready for adoption. So, what changed? The answer is oil prices. The Saudi Arabia government needed new sources of revenue. That is how they came up with the electronic visa. It is supposed to give their tourism a boost and bring in more cash. It makes sense if you think about it. People have more access to a visa, which should make a visit more appealing. Then, they go to Saudi Arabia and spend money. It is a win-win kind of scenario.
As you may very well now, Saudi Arabia is a very religious country, which means that some restrictions are imposed on female travelers, for example. Other than that, people who will apply and obtain a Saudi Arabia e-visa will not be allowed to enter the holy city of Mecca. Medina is off limits as well. While an electronic visa comes with restrictions, most people are happy about the upcoming online application system. It makes things a lot easier for them. Surely you can understand that.
What do we know about the Saudi Arabia e-visa duration?
At the moment, we have no details on almost anything. The Saudi government has not adopted the bylaws yet, which means that the official guidelines have not seen the light of day either. Apparently, the officials are still discussing these matters, but since the bylaws are scheduled to be adopted at the end of April 2018, we should know more about it soon. The only requirement we know of is the passport requirement. All applicants must have a valid passport that maintains its validity for at least another 6 months. Things like Saudi Arabia e-visa duration, processing time, cost, and other guidelines will be released in just a few weeks, and we will be able to tell you more. You should check legitimate sources of information, such as iVisa.com, for the latest updates. We will let you know as soon as we know anything.
What is the usual Saudi visa duration?
Just to paint a picture, the Saudi visa duration depends on what type of visa you apply. Keep in mind that the duration mentioned in the next few phrases does not refer to the electronic visa but to the consular visa. As previously stated, the duration depends on the visa type. For example, the Saudi business visa can have a duration of 30 or 60 days, depending on which one the Saudi issuing authority decides to give you. However, each of those two visas allows a 30-day stay at a time. The facts mentioned above may not apply to the Saudi Arabia e-visa duration, but we do not know for sure, and it is best if we do not speculate. All we can do at the moment is wait and see what the Saudi government has to say about it. You can check reliable sources from time to time for the latest updates, but iVisa will implement the online application system for the Saudi Arabia e-visa as soon as it goes live, so you do not have to wait long.


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Dating acronyms cctv
04-Jul-2017 23:05
In writing the book, Goldman says his thesis was "If you want to understand the culture of medicine, you should pay attention to how doctors and other health professionals talk." Basically, he says, if you listen to their slang you will learn a lot about doctors' attitudes towards patients, situations they find frustrating and problems they have with each other.He rightly credits Samuel Shem, author of the seminal as the person who brought medical slang into the open.The purpose of argot is twofold: to prevent outsiders understanding what you're talking about, and to create a bond between team-mates or colleagues.As an informal nomenclature, argot is used in sport, hobbies and particular occupations.
Provided the cameras are well positioned, you can keep tabs on every aspect of your business.
How would you feel about being referred to as a "horrendoma" because of some horrible illness?
Or if your loved one was a relatively young and morbidly obese person admitted to hospital with a pressure ulcer on her buttocks and a doctor referred to her as a "beemer"?
Second, most CCTV feeds don't just capture live images, but record activity, as well.
This gives you a video record of what happened and when.Each is advantageous in its own right, but together they can really make a difference in how well protected your workplace is.


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We run Tabletop Gaming Events at both our stores:
The Geek Home: Shop no. 22, Water Glen Shopping centre, Corner of Garsfontein and January Masilela, Waterkloof Glen, Pretoria.
Outer Limits: Shop no 6, Java centre, 285 Lynnwood street, Menlo Park, Pretoria.
We Run Gaming Events at Both locations as follows:
Monday night:
- Wargaming at Outer Limits. (Booked through the Cabal club)
Wednesday night:
- MTG Modern at The Geek Home.
- D&D league at The Geek Home.
- Boardgaming evening at Outer Limits.
Thursday night:
- Boardgaming and Wargaming at The Geek Home.
- D&D Campaign night at The Geek Home (Preregistred campaign)
Friday night:
- Friday Night Magic at both locations. The Geek home and Outer Limits. (Starts 7pm)
- Yu-Gi-Oh! Friday night tournament at The Geek Home. (Starts 7pm)
- Boardgaming at The Geek Home.
Saturday: (From 9:30am to 5pm)
- Special events at both locations.
- MTG Standard and Commander at Outer Limits.
- Pokémon casual league.
- Yu-Gi-Oh! Sunday Tournament at Outer Limits.
- MTG Commander and Pauper at The Geek Home.
- Wargaming tables also available on prebooking.


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Physiotherapists are skilled medical professionals that are trained to help athletes relieve pain before and after a race. In fact, Brampton physiotherapy can serve as an alternative to medication and surgery. Some states allow you to seek the services of a physiotherapist without a referral from a doctor. Physiotherapists are skilled doctors who have doctorates in physical therapy. Note that working in collaboration with your physiotherapist makes the whole process smooth and successful. Here are five things to consider before going to see a physiotherapist.
1. Wear Comfortable Clothes
Wearing comfortable clothes makes it easier for the physiotherapist to access the area that hurts. Long sleeves and jeans are not advisable when visiting a therapist. Such clothes can make it difficult for your therapist to evaluate the stability of your joints.
2. Keep Track of Your Symptoms
Provide your physiotherapist with details of when you started feeling pain, how long it has lasted, and what you do to relieve it. Identify any symptoms that are related to any activity or exercise that you do. Moreover, keep note of any symptom that gets relieved with rest. Let your therapist know the cause of your pain and what aggravates it.
3. Make a List of the Things You are Unable to Do
Let your therapist understand the goals that you would want to achieve with the therapy. That way, the therapist will be able to serve you with customized services. You could also let your therapist know about any supplements or medication that you are taking. Moreover, provide information about any of your past medical procedures such as surgeries. Perhaps certain procedures may not be related to your current condition; however, it is crucial to keep your therapist in the loop.
4. Make a List of any Questions You Would Want to Ask the Therapist
It is essential to have a list of questions regarding your current condition or your past diagnostic tests. Let your therapist know if you have any diagnostic report about your current condition. In fact, you can ask a friend or family to accompany you as you go to see your therapist. Your cousin or friend may remind you any questions that you might have forgotten. Moreover, they may help you remember the instructions given by your therapist after the visit.
5. Collaborate With Your Therapist
Keep in mind that you and your therapist work toward a common goal. Collaborating with your therapist will ensure you recover as quickly as possible. Perform your home exercises exactly as instructed and never miss any appointments with your therapist to ensure you reach your goals. You may also need to arrive a few minutes before the appointment especially if you are required to fill some forms.


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The contrary forces of innovation, Thomas Hoholm, Palgrave, ISBN 978 0 230 28366 4, 2011
Reviewed by Tudor Rickards
From time to time, a book for reviewing produces the response "Yes. That's how it was for me too!" For me, this is one such book. It describes in rich detail and analysis a case study of the processes of innovative new product development. The environment of research and development (R&D) is beautifully captured.
Norway's Blue/Green Strategy
The story has been described as a spin-off from the "Green Blue" strategy in Norway, which backed research into fisheries (blue) and agriculture (green). The specific innovations are traced to the research of a Professor Erik Slinde who was interested in industrializing Norway's fish harvesting.
With entrepreneurial flair he hit on the idea of producing a fish-based salami. If you think that's crazy get the book. If you think it's a great…
View original post 285 more words


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If you aren't a natural writer blogging is hard. Really hard actually. The downside of blogging is coming up with content frequently enough to keep readers engaged and not lose them the first time you miss your publish window or don't post for a little extra longer than usual.
You want to create content of value but you need to know what people want first. It is a vicious cycle of finding people, sharing what they want to know more about, and using that content to hopefully gather more people. While trying to figure all that out I realize I share a lot of shit no one cares about. That's ok, that content is part of my brand as Ross Wickman, but it might lose people that were interested in the other stuff.
The bad thing is you have to create content to be found and provide value to keep readers coming back. And that is when we're back into the vicious circle. A depressing cycle.
In the past could never stay motivated to write about things I thought provided value cause even when you feel like you provide value, it feels like no one is paying attention. That is why blogging (and blogging frequently) is so hard.
The people that don't know you can't find you easily.
The people that you are writing for don't realize they need you yet.
And the people who care about you most won't listen to you anyway.
But I've finally decided no of that matters. I will keep creating content now. I realized in the past I was so impatient. Being prolific is my new plan. Podcasts, videos and blog posts all for content creation.
A big push for me to do the Technically Living podcast is it has really helped me find a new way to put myself out there and generate multiple streams of content.
Creating content that provides value (for someone at least), patiently waiting, and building a community is the only way to get the life I'm striving for.
So in order to better understand what the people who are following me want to know about, I have created a Technically Living Facebook Group and Technically Living Slack Channel that you can sign up for here and engage with myself and the community we will build together
Any of your feedback is helpful and I really appreciate. I look forward to seeing in either location or both.
Also, if you haven't already, please check out my new podcast - Technically Living on iTunes, Overcast, Stitcher, or Google Play.


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This is one of Ireland's best kept getaway secrets
Taking a boat on Ireland's inland waterways was something we had always wanted to do. However, when I got the chance to cruise the Lough Erne in Co. Fermanagh, I never could have guessed what an incredible adventure awaited the family.
When it comes to holidays in Ireland, we automatically think of the coast, and we are blessed with extraordinary coastline and the Atlantic Ocean, however, some of the island's most breath-taking scenery is found along our inland waterways. For so long I had wanted to discover the rivers and lakes of Ireland by boat but with a busy work and school schedule, it was something I kept putting off.
After a long, hard winter and with spring attempting to push through, we decided to try something different and set off for a weekend on Lough Erne.
Arriving in Belturbet in Co. Cavan, we picked up our boat from the Aghinver Boat Company, a 31-foot 4/6 berth cruiser with flybridge. The boat was in pristine condition and seemed almost new. There was ample space for my wife Sandra and I in the double bed at the stern and my children Zoe, 11, Aran, 8, in the two single beds at the bow. Although the couch in the main area of the boat folded out to a double bed, Rua, 3, the youngest, came into bed with the grown-ups (he was always going to end up there anyway).
After half an hour orientation and instruction from Sean Grennan at Aghinver, off we set along the River Erne and out onto the expanse of Lough Erne. The boat is really very easy to drive, and I, with no previous sailing experience got the hang of it immediately. Navigation through the labyrinth of islands takes a little getting used to, but once you stay within the markers on the water you're absolutely fine. Of course as soon as we hit the open water of the lake we got caught in torrential rain and hail and got completely lost. That's all part of the adventure though and we found our way soon enough.
Our first stop-off was the fabulous Watermill restaurant at Kilmore Quay just meters from where we moored the boat on the shore of the upper lough. The restaurant, run by renowned chef Pascal Brissaud, is pretty close to a perfect dining experience. A warm, relaxed and welcoming atmosphere, with staff from France, the food is exquisite. Sometimes you have the pleasure to eat in an establishment where the care and attention to detail is evident in everything around you.
We were to push on to Naan Island and moor there for the night, but we were enjoying ourselves so much we decided to stay at the Watermill. As we made our way back to the boat we were treated to one of Lough Erne's famous sunsets. The air was warm and the water still like glass, the North Star shone low in sky and a full moon rose amid the deep and delicate colours of dusk. It took our breath away.
The next morning we woke early to a breezy, sunny day. We breakfasted on board on the move as we made our way northward across the lough to Bellanaleck where we moored and took a taxi a short distance to the Marble Arch Caves. I've visited quite a few cave systems all over the world and can honestly say that the Fermanagh's Marble Arch Caves is among the very best I've seen. It's an extensive network of chambers, beautifully lit, with stalactites and otherworldly formations all linked by an underground river. Access to the caves is by boat which adds to the feeling of entering 'the underworld' on the tour.
Unfortunately, my youngest Rua, fell asleep in my arms during the tour and I had to carry him for the majority of the tour as well as up the 150 steps to see daylight, whereupon he promptly awoke. It didn't take from a most extraordinary experience in the Marble Arch Caves. It's not to be missed.
We'd worked up an appetite so we took a taxi back to Bellanaleck and had some lunch at the Sheelin Kitchen, a quaint café in a two-hundred-year-old thatched cottage. The children still had enough energy for an hour in the playground before we boarded our boat and set off northwards for Enniskillen.
You can see you're approaching the town of Enniskillen as the rural countryside slowly gives way to more settlement and bigger and plusher marinas. We went straight to Enniskillen Castle - an imposing 16th century fortress that now houses the Fermanagh County Museum. There you can find a fascinating collection relating to the turbulent history of Fermanagh. The Museum has curated an impressive collection of artefacts and an informative exhibition that had the whole family enthralled. The castle is the heart of this town and there's an atmosphere of great and terrible history that seems to echo in its halls. Leaving the castle, we were caught in more heavy rain so we made a dash for the boat where we cooked our own meal on board. We spent the rest of the evening relaxing, a cup of tea, listening to jazz on BBC Radio 3 and the rain pelting against the window. I did my first crossword in months.
Again we woke to sunshine. It seems dawn is the best part of the day here and the hundreds of fishermen on the banks and on the water would agree. We took a slow start to the morning then set off south back towards Bellanaleck and on to the Crom Estate weaving through the islands of the Upper Lough Erne. By that time navigation and handling of the boat was second nature.
We docked at Crom Estate and immediately saw that we were in a very special place indeed. The wetlands that surround the area paint an evocative picture of the life of the gentry that ruled this estate through the centuries. The National Trust Visitors' Centre tells you all you need to know about a turbulent history of conquest, through the Plantation to the aristocratic life of the Crichton family that made the estate their home. The Crom family estate is still sitting splendid on among the ancient oak and yew.
We walked the short distance down to the ruins of the old castle on the lake shore where the view left us speechless. The whole weekend we had encountered every kind of weather imaginable but when the sun came out, the beauty is stark and very much unique to this part of the world. The waterways of Ireland have their own unique history and their own special identity, it's an as yet, still undiscovered world for the Irish tourist.
Talking to Sean Grennan, of the Aghinver Boat Company, the majority of his customers are from Europe. Every year, the same tourists from Germany, France and Switzerland return to cruise Fermanagh's waterways. The Irish have yet to really discover and appreciate this area and with the incredible work that Waterways Ireland do to maintain this incredible resource and make it accessible to all, for sure, they'll only need to experience it once and they'll come back again and again.
Leaving Crom Estate, we set out on the last leg of our journey, to return the boat to Belturbet. Sitting on the upper deck, with the family below, I can hear them singing as the boat chugs easily on its way downriver. All along the banks there are scenes of rural idyll. New born lambs bound in the fields, cattle lift their heads to watch us pass. The birdlife is everywhere, all around you –herons, brent geese, moorhens and coots and of course the swans who rule the lakes. We even saw a buzzard flash its wings across the bow of the boat. The waterways have their own pace of life and even a short weekend trip along them forces you to slow down.
We only scratched the surface of what you can experience in this part of Ireland. What an adventure it was. Now that we've seen it, we're already planning our return trip to Ireland's waterways.
To find all Waterways special offers for Cruising and Blueways adventures, click here.
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#092 - Lungkin
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#092 - Lungkin
Name: Lungkin
Aliases: Long, Lung, Eastern Dragon, Sky Serpent, Wave Serpent, Ancient Spirit
Sphere: The Black Sea (officially, though they wander in the skies whenever they feel like it)
Tier: The 5 Elder Lungkin are Elite, the rest are regular and unnamed
- Spoiler:
There is a race, a legendary race, of demons that once found a way to imprint their image upon the hearts and minds of mortal men. All of Asia revered them, the Orient worshipped them. They were described as benevolent beings, creatures who served as the spirits of the land and water, sky and clouds. The Chinese and Japanese even revered them as Gods, placing them in equality with the divine Emperors of their lands. They were the greatest of beasts in existence, and so great were they that none dared question their divinity and benevolence.
Not so their true forms lurking in Inferis. Within that realm, these beasts are anything but benevolent. They are in fact quite violent, territorial, and seek only their own pleasure in this dark world. They see perfection only in their own forms, and so perfect did they believe they were that their master imprinted his vision upon the known world as that of a God. They are the Lungkin, the rivals of the Dragokin.
The Lungkin are without a doubt the stereotypical Eastern Dragons in every appearance, but they are powerful, evil creatures at heart. With a few exceptions who are neutral gray, seeking a balance throughout themselves besides just their own desires, the vast majority of them are self-centered and sadistic, much like their Dragokin cousins. They are wingless, but can fly through their own power (likely through Soul Energy), and most have very reptilian appearances, making them almost serpentlike. Many bear multiple pairs of legs, though only the 5 Elders bear the five-toed claws of the Imperial Line.
All Lungkin also bear a single pearl, which is similar to the Dragokin's crystals. Unlike Dragokin, the pearl isn't physically attached to their bodies, though it's their source of Soul Energy. They are rarely far without it, for if they go to great distances in separation they become weakened as their body runs on reserves. Many of the higher-ranking Lungkin fly without their pearl out of paranoia of what would happen if it got stolen or broken.
Long ago, the Lungkin and Dragokin fought in an epic war for dominance, a war that likely was not the start of their rivalry but rather the final result. Their leader, Tianlong, fought ruthelessly against their master Fafnir, fighting to the bitter end. When the battle reached its crescendo, Tianlong succeeded in driving his middle claw into the Dragokin leader's crystal, slicing it in two...though the resulting backlash damaged the casing of his pearl. As a result, the Lungkin were forced to call upon a truce, a truce the Dragokin gladly agreed to. Since then, Tianlong has remained in his island home deep in the Black Sea, where he has remained in a trance and has been sacrificed souls by his children in order to keep him alive. His four eldest children (Shenlong the Thunderer (female), Fucanlong the Guardian (male), Jialong the Sea Serpent (female), and Huanglong the Imperial (male)) have since ruled in his stead, acting under his will.
Abilities: All Lungkin bear the ancient abilities of standard Eastern Dragons. These are amplified or activated when in the presence of their Soul Pearl, which they can either carry in their forelimbs or plant in a harness around their chests in a similar fashion to the Dragokin's crystals. Lungkin are covered in a natural armor of scales similar to those of fish, though this armor pales in comparison to the Dragokin's natural armor. Instead they rely on their agility in combat, attacking with their claws and dodging out of the way with serpentine grace. Their Soul Pearls amplify this natural agility, making them almost impossible to hit by normal means.
When they are away from their Soul Pearl or if their Soul Pearl is stolen, they become much, much weaker. Their armor is not as strong, their agility is only half as great at best, and they cannot fly. They can still use their elemental abilities, but they are forced to use their natural reserves of soul energy, which makes them vulnerable and likely to exhaust themselves. They can only rebuild that soul energy either through long periods of time or through consuming the souls of others, which they transfer either to their reserves or their Soul Pearl.
Soul Pearls are the primary source of a Lungkin's soul energy. It swirls with the energies of Inferis, a natural refinery built into their systems. It's also the source of their existence; if broken, the Lungkin effectively dies and its body remains for those who wish to harvest it. However, if a Lungkin is 'killed' and its Soul Pearl left intact, its body will disintegrate into a natural, base substance (often mistaken for flower petals). Lungkin can restore their bodies in this state so long as their pearls are kept in a safe place, though this takes a very long period of time.
All Lungkin can breathe a base element similar to Dragokin, though their base elements reflect more upon nature and flowing forces rather than raw elemental energy. They can breathe "Divine Wind" (a form of loud, sonic roar), "Harmonious Fire" (a heat-based attack similar to breathing fire, though it's hot air at such a degree of heat things spontaneously combust), "Yellow River" (water, usually a certain color), and "Imperial's Wrath" (a type of acid that eats straight through biological matter with ease).
Miscellaneous Notes: - They are weak against magic, but strong against material weapons, a polar opposite to Dragokin
- Surprisingly harder to spot than Dragokin (they like high altitudes)
- Very sadistic at times
- Have a lust for "pretty things," which includes precious metals but is not limited (paintings, sculpture, certain plants; anything that has artwork, really)
- Tianlong is rumored at having a fifth child, Panlong (The Traitor). He was a Lungkin that went rogue and was the first of the neutral-gray Lungkin. Is believed to be hiding deep within the Black Sea
- Panlong is believed to be in league with Pan Weilong, though this is not confirmed...nor denied, allegedly
- Have a race of panda-men who worship them regularly
- Really, really, REALLY enjoy riddles and storytelling; you can spare yourself a terrible fate just by talking about the outside world long enough to distract them
- Fucanlong, the Guardian, is rumored at having a crush with Fawn, one of Fafnir's children
- All Lungkin have an affinity for elemental and weather control, though their strengths vary
"Better to be a dog than a man..."
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Diogenes the Cynic
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A recollection of murals and other projects
La Juanita
Mural for El Tunco surfing community.
El Salvador. CA
Brooklyn Boulders Climbing Gym.
"Ofrenda" de flores al mar, mural en honor a todas las personas que, al igual que las flores ofrecidas al mar como vehículo, se van en busca de algo mejor, en una corriente casi a la deriva, donde no se sabe dónde o qué deparará, pero ofreciendo siempre las mejores y más bellas intenciones.
La Casa Tomada
San Salvador, 2016
Homenaje a Berta Cáceres
Gallery543 in the Urban Outfitters headquarters.
here is an interview made for the Urbn Community blog.Brief description of you, your work, and how you got into art:I try to recreate the urban-tropical culture of where I grew up, in Central America. I'm from El Salvador and I've lived and worked in Philadelphia for 2 years.I got into art through my family; my grandfather is a graphic designer and a painter, my dad and uncle are graphic designers, too. I guess I grew up with the tools and with that incentive to make art. I remember playing at my uncle's studio, I remember my dad staying up all night to work, always with music playing, and I remember smelling the old coffee, cigarettes, PrismaColor markers and Tempera paint.My mom is a pastry chef, she makes amazing cakes in any shape possible, I honestly think she makes Cake Boss look like an amateur. At one point, we were all working to bake cakes with my mom, making fondant figures and airbrushing. Both my parents still make art today.I was born during the civil war--not a good time for art--but despite everything I was very lucky my family encouraged me to keep doing it.My art has been influenced by revolutionary propaganda, I guess that's why I feel very attracted to street art and its accessibility. I studied fine art in the National Art Center CENAR, and graphic design in UDB University, but I ended up doing graffiti and street art with my friends. For me, it's about going to surf very early in the morning, painting all day, and playing music in the city at night.Can you tell us about the piece you created for URBN, including the inspiration, process and Installation?The urban piece is inspired by a volcanic eruption.In El Salvador in 1932 there was a cultural genocide, where the government tried to exterminate indigenous people, their language and their culture.The ones who survived fled; people said "se enmontañaron," "they went to the mountains." To me, they went to the mountains not only physically, but spiritually—they became the mountains and volcanoes. Their culture survived there, hidden from "progress."From time to time the mighty volcanoes wake up trembling, and they shake the land. They spit lava and big clouds of smoke, helping us to remember where we come from, and what are we made of as a country.How did you describe your aesthetic?I find beauty in nature and people, and the underlying connection between people and nature. It's that simple.Do you have a mentor or have you ever had one?My family and friends are the best mentors.what are you working on now?I'm working on illustrations of obsidian stone. The highly traded stone was used in Mesoamerica for daily activities, ceremonial sacrifices, and war, because it made knives, blades, arrowheads, and ornaments.El Salvador is considered one of the most dangerous countries in the world. Despite the violence, Salvadoran people and land are incredibly beautiful and volatile. I'm trying to show that El Salvador is going through a process not unlike the obsidian:"A naturally occurring volcanic glass formed as an extrusive igneous rock. It is produced when felsic lava extruded from a volcano cools rapidly with minimum crystal growth."calo1.com@calobsone
San Salvador 2015
Paula, Santo Domingo de Guzman
Going back to my Nahuat roots, we traveled to the town of Santo Domingo de Guzman in Sonsonate, El Salvador, to paint a mural honoring Paula Lopez, a poet, teacher and keeper of the Nahuat language and culture.
Waterfalls, sopa de gallina india, hot chocolate in the mountains, friends and familly.
(Paula habla siempre, Paula canta todavia)
Big thanks to Colectivo Tzunhejekat for doing this possible.
Weccacoetropical wall
Niña con chiles
Bainbridge Street in collaboration with HAHAxParadigm and Friends of Bainbridge Green in Queen Village, Philadelphia. Find out more about the project on www.HAHAxParadigm.org
Tellar de Cintura
Veggie Kids Mural
Connestoga-pearl Gardens
Urban tree connection
Brooklyn 2015
Philadelphia 2014
Graffiti Pier
Philadelphia 2015
4 am Party
Los Acmes Wall
La Gloria
El Salvador 2012
San Salvador 2012
Montreal 2014
La Malaga Mural
La Malaga Memorial.
San Salvador 2013
El Cielo Abierto Cartel
Mural and design for the movie "El cielo abierto"
San Salvador, 2012
El Cielo Abierto Mural
Los Bichos
Amando Lopez Community, Usulutan.
Area 503 graffiti Festival
"Neto y rubén" and "Lupe"
San Salvador 2010
San Salvador 2011
"Legibilidad por falta de espacio" show
"El oficio alegre"
Alegria, Usulutan.
El Salvador 2011


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Below you will find a list of the major scholarships and fellowships you can apply for through ONSA. We also assist students interested in other nationally competitive awards. Each scholarship contains a further link to important resources and application tips.
After exploring the scholarship links, visit our Preparation Tips web page. From there, you can navigate to Preparation Toolsl, which also provides help on most of the major scholarships below.
We invite you to fill out our Start the Process Today form, to let us know what scholarships you're interested in and what your goals are.
|Who Should Apply?
|Fields of Study
|What It's For
|Application's Campus Deadline
|Beinecke Scholarship
More ...
|Juniors, U.S. citizens, with documented financial need
|Humanities, Social Sciences
|Graduate degree (up to 5 years)
|January 22
|Boren National Security Education Scholarship & Graduate Fellowship
More ...
|Undergraduate & Graduate students, U.S. citizens
|Field of study must be relevant to U.S. national security
|Study abroad (one semester or full year) in specific geographic areas and languages
|December 3
|Churchill Scholarship
More ...
|Seniors & recent graduates, U.S. citizen
|Science, Engineering, Mathematics
|One year at Cambridge University for graduate degree in science, engineering, or mathematics
|September 30
|DAAD Scholarships and Grants (German Academic Exchange Service)
|Undergraduates and graduates
|Any field
|Research and study opportunities in Germany
|No campus deadline; national deadline varies according to funding (visit daad.org/en/find-funding)
|Fulbright Scholarship
More ...
|Seniors, graduate students & alumni, U.S. citizens
|Any field
|Research, study (research and study grants require host country language proficiency), or English language teaching abroad
|August 31
|Gates-Cambridge Scholarship
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|Seniors & graduate students, non-U.K. citizenship
|Any field
|Graduate degree at Cambridge University
|August 29
|Goldwater Scholarship
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|Sophomores & Juniors, U.S. citizen or permanent resident
|Engineering, Mathematics, Natural Science (student must be planning a research career)
|Undergraduate study in natural sciences, engineering, mathematics
|November 2
|Marshall Scholarship
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|Seniors & graduate students, U.S. citizen
|Any field offered at U.K. institution
|1–2 years of graduate study in the UK
|August 29
|Mitchell Scholarship
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|Seniors & graduate students, U.S. citizen
|Any field offered at an Irish institution
|One year of graduate study in the Republic of Ireland
|August 29
|Rhodes Scholarship
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|Seniors & graduate students, U.S. citizen
|Any field
|Graduate degree at Oxford University
|August 29
|RISE (Research Internships in Science & Engineering)
|All undergraduates
|Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Earth Sciences, Engineering
|Undergraduate summer internship in Germany
|No campus deadline; for national deadline, visit daad.org/en/find-funding/undergraduate-opportunities/research-internships-in-science-and-engineering-rise
|Schwarzman Scholarship
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|Rising seniors, recent graduates
|Any field
|One-year master's degree at Tsinghua University in Beijing
|August 29
|Soros Fellowship
|Seniors & graduate students, only first-generation or newly naturalized U.S. citizens
|Any field
|Graduate degree in any field, including law and medicine
|No campus deadline; for national deadline visit pdsoros.org
|Truman Scholarship
More ...
|Juniors interested in public service
|Any field
|Graduate degree in public policy or service field
|November 26
|Udall Scholarship
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|Sophomores & Juniors
|Environmental Science, Healthcare, Native American Tribal Public Policy
|Undergraduate degree for students dedicated to career in the environment, or to Native American students dedicated to Native public policy careers
|February 8


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Bermuda Relay For Life
The fourth annual Bermuda Relay For Life took place over the 12th and 13th of May. Relay For Life has become a one of the largest fundraising events in Bermuda. The 24-hour-long event brought together 4,200 community members across 125 teams.
Colonial Account Manager and Business Developer, Ron Spencer III, founded the event in 2014 after working almost 5 years to have Bermuda approved as a Relay Country after losing his Mother to Cancer in 2008. The Mission of Relay For Life of Bermuda is to raise awareness and funds to support cancer prevention and detection and to improve access to treatment with the local establishment of radiation therapy.
To date, the event has raised over $2.2 million. 95% of the funds raised from this year's event and past events, go toward Bermuda's first Radiation Therapy Facility. A ribbon cutting ceremony was held on May 17.
With an on-island treatment facility, patients will no longer need to travel long distances to receive the care they need. This will also allow them to remain close to their family and support systems during the treatment process.
The 2017 Relay For Life of Bermuda has raised $544,000, and counting.


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Shameless wetlook dress by Noir Handmade. Elastic wetlook fabric, matt shiny black with flashy red contrast zips at strategic hot points. Sleeveless, little stand-up collar, skin tight cut, hidden back zip. A really hot dress for all the bitches out there.
Colour: Black
Material: 80% Polyester 20% Elastane
Available sizes: S, M, L, XL
The fabric is very elastic.
(See pictures for size table!)


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Kaity shares her complaints with Overwatch's new competitive mode, Allen talks all things Game of Thrones following the end of the show's 6th season, and Ryan reflects on their journey of watching every Wachowski film before the group discusses Jupiter Ascending for their shared experience.
Discussion of Jupiter Ascending begins at 38:06.
Works Discussed:
Alice Glass
Game of Thrones
The Matrix
Speed Racer
Jupiter Ascending
Our break music this episode is "Home" by Toby Fox.
Our podcast theme is "April Elsewhere" by The Orchestral Movement of 1932 found via Opsound.org.
Other music used:
"Stressed Out" by Twenty-One Pilots
"Smell Yo D*ck" by Riskay, Aviance, Real
"II. Anonymous" by Weezer
"Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba
"Illegal Alien" by Genesis
"Candyland" by Blood on the Dancefloor
"Kazoo Kid - Trap Remix" by Mike Diva
"I Like Your Hair" by Scotty Vanity


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We have the BEST prices on lighting…
You might think that a full service lighting store would have premium prices, but ours are competitive or better priced than big box or internet stores. It's because in most cases, we discount the manufacturer's IMAP (Internet Minimum Advertised Price) in our stores.
The Lite House: 2 Showrooms In Columbia SC
3521 Bush River Rd.
Columbia, SC 29210
8401 Two Notch Rd
Columbia SC 29223
3521 Bush River Rd.
Opened March 1973
Store Hours:
Monday – Friday 9:000am - 6:00pm
Tuesdays 'til 7:00pm
8401 Two Notch Rd
Opened July 1982
Store Hours:
Monday – Friday 9:00am - 6:000pm
Wednesdays 'til 7:00pm


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Short documentary about a "Giants and Big-Headed's masquerade" at Zaragoza streets. . You can read more in Google, Youtube, Wiki
Gigantes y cabezudos
Short documentary about a "Giants and Big-Headed's masquerade" at Zaragoza streets.
- Category:Short
- Stars:,
- Uploader:Chich1Phat
- Country:Spain
- Director:Ignacio Coyne,
- Writer:N/A
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Bradley W (kr) wrote: Barbershop really surprised me with how fun the cast and comedy was. While it's nothing truly unique, it's certainly a fun time.
Amelia M (es) wrote: I love this movie!! It's corny but it's the begining of what a wonderful actor John MalMalkovich is.
Alisson P (ag) wrote: Um bom drama, destaque para Edward norton
Daryl K (us) wrote: Claude Rains' patient Caesar and Vivien Leigh's haughty Cleopatra are the performances that manage to carry this picture for me. George Bernard Shaw's adaptation of his own play is otherwise indulgent, overstuffed, and even a bit dull in spots -- a breezier adaptation with the same actors might've made for a better film. Director Gabriel Pascal manages an epic scope in exterior scenes, but some of the interiors still feel a bit stagey.
Maximiliano D (ca) wrote: I could say that Blue Valentine is an "elegant" autopsy of a failed marriage. The simplicity of the scenario makes the rare emotional intensity of the film. The best point about the movie is the contrast between the giddy beginning and the sad-ending of the couple. I think this kind of movie should deserve a wider audience but it's probably too authentically tragic for some that I could chock them ...
Pablo G (nl) wrote: 3.6/5The payoff, in comparisson to its development leaves a ton to be desired, but Deliverance still manages to have a very serious and hostile tone that very few movies ever manage to achieve in its simplicity.
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Perhaps I just enjoy a larger canvas or like to pretend I'm from a time when women boldly and unapologetically wore their jewelry as a statement of who they were, what they loved and how they saw the world and themselves.
Either way, VAN LEE DESIGNS is statement jewelry that is handcrafted by me, from start to finish.
From the seeds of inspiration to stone selection and final design, I love handcrafting each piece from rough to final polish.
At times, inspiration is as simple as connecting to the stones while I hold them, marveling at their colors and patterns, their energy and thinking about the elemental forces and millions of years it took to create them.
The 'unearthly glow of moonstones', seeing the 'Aurora Borealis' in a Labradorite and the images of fire and lava in a perfect fire agate draw me to these remarkable stones. From them, I forge bold, statement making pieces that merge the energy and aesthetic of raw materials with inspiration and symbolism.
My goal is to create beautiful, wearable jewelry that is both meaningful and personal to the wearer.
As I have grown as a designer and as a person, it has become increasingly important to make more conscious decisions about the stones and metals I use and their origins. The environmental and human cost from the demand of certain minerals means that I try to make choices that are more in line with my values and vision.
When possible, I use recycled silver and gold in my designs. Though I have plenty of stones from years of collecting, I try to search for responsible sources for my new stone purchases. I prefer to purchase stones mined and cut in places such as Canada, the U.S. and Europe and other locales where human and environmental costs are more transparent and minimized.


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Health is a life long journey; for some, it can be more complicated. I was fortunate to grow up in a household that emphasized the importance of healthy (and tasty!) food as well as regular exercise. I haven't always made good choices though; my road has veered down into the valley of illness at times and my efforts to correct my imbalances have given me a passion for health and wellness.
The prolific shiatsu therapist Skizuko Yamamoto says;
"Carefully observe your activities of thinking, breathing, movement, diet, sex, and sleep, for these are the six fundamentals of health. Within this realm lies success or failure in your physical health and emotional happiness."
By exploring these areas of our lives we seek to enter the realm of wellness in the wholistic sense and tend to all the facets of our mind and body.
If our bodies are our vehicles, then consider the massage therapist as a mechanic. After a certain amount of wear and tear, it's time for a tune up.
Massage therapy works to increase circulation and lymphatic flow, decrease sympathetic nervous system firing, reduce muscle tension, dissolve adhesions in the tissues of the body and create a general sense of relaxation.
I love being an MT, whether I am helping someone work through an injury, easing the discomforts of pregnancy or helping someone unwind from a stressful day, massage is my passion!