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Some people have an innate ability to be continually and devotedly in tune with their surroundings; grounded, authentic. You feel instantaneously comfortable in their presence, as though you've been there hundreds of times before… sitting across from each other in a dimly lit bar, elbows on the table, body language leaning forward; familiar, at ease. Most of the time, these people also have what I would describe as the glow, but I use that word not in the traditional sense or by typical interpretation, not as a way to identify a 'brightness of colour,' or 'a warm flushed colour of the cheeks,' but more as a means to explain their contagious energy, their all consuming aura. You can get lost in people with the glow. And then, there are the really special ones, the ones who on top all else, also have one of the best laughs you've ever heard!
Jasmine Gescheit is one of those magical anomalies.
Over glasses of red wine (for her), Hendricks, (for me) and Wolf of the Willows XPA, (for Dean) we laughed… a lot, declared our mutual, if not guilty, love for the greatness that is 'The Devil Wears Prada,' and spoke in length about the importance of being grateful, of knowing what a gift it truly is to be able to make a life out of what you love and the responsibility of awareness and consciousness that simultaneously comes with that. A true ambassador for the industry, and someone who is fearlessly chasing her dreams, the first collection from Jasmine's new label, Jasmine Alexa, remains untitled, but the inspiration and depth behind her brand, speaks far deeper than a simple title ever could.
Here's a little more from Jazz…
Tell us about your day…
Hello, my name is Jazz, from Jasmine Alexa. Today the most interesting thing I heard was at Australian fashion labels, I was having a chat with one of the girls there and we both realised that every Summer while we were growing up, we went to the same little country town in rural Victoria, and it made me think that I need a holiday and would like to go up to Yarrawonga. At the moment I am missing Nick because he's overseas, but dreaming I was overseas too! The first thing I thought when I woke up this morning was how blessed I am to be in the position that I am and then I had a hot shower and got ready for the day. My ultimate goal in life is really simple, just to be happy and my goal for today wasthe same, to just be happy. My star sign is Gemini and I feel the happiest when I am creating, in my studio sewing. If I could live anywhere in the world, I would live either in New York City or Amsterdambecause both cities just have this real vibe about them, there's a really cool creative scene in both place and they feel familiar, almost like home. My favourite person in the world is my twin sister Daniand the person who is most inspiring to me is my mum. When I look up at the sky I search for clouds, the shapes in the clouds.
Finish these statements…
My work life balance is…. I guess, my work is my life and my life is my work and I don't mean that in a bad way, I'm really happy with that.
The most important life lesson I've learnt is… You should never be afraid to dream too big, my Mum always said that to me.
My relationship with the kitchen is… yeah a good one! I love cooking; it is such a creative thing.
I feel most comfortable… um, when I'm in my studio doing my thing, by myself, listening to music.
My job has taught me that beauty is… on the inside.
Attention to detail is… imperative.
If I weren't a designer I would… probably be a psychologist!
My favourite kind of evening is… a quiet night in, glass of wine, surrounded by the people I love, with a nice home cooked meal.
My workspace could be described as… ha ha ha, umm very clean at times, but also very much an organised mess at times, and that's often more so the case. Usually one or the other, there's no in-between.
The first piece of clothing I ever designed and created was… umm, these really hideous purple dupion pants! I made them at uni and still have them today, I'm not sure why I've kept them ha ha.
Inspiration should be… really meaningful; it should resonate with you personally.
I would love to learn… a language, probably French or Spanish.
When I'm procrastinating you'll find me… probably just fluffing around online.
This interview is… fun! Probably the most relaxed interview I've ever had.
My favourite street to walk down is… where I grew up, Monckton Rd in Templestonwe.
My favourite word is… sophisticated, I like the way it sounds, it's nice to say.
2AM is for…. sleeping.
Pick a Side…
Books or podcasts
Print or digital
Records or Spotify
Converted warehouse or a Caribbean hut
Pizza delivery or Brunch
Documentaries or Reality TV
The XX or Jamie XX
AM or PM
Now let's get a little bit professional…
In your own words, tell us a little bit about Jasmine Alexa and the first collection…
The initial idea for Jasmine Alexa, came about two years ago and it was actually a really personal thing. I'd often go out looking for sportswear and I was really uninspired by what was available. And I thought to myself, I'm going to create a range of sportswear that's comfortable, really cool and functional, but that can also be worn throughout the day time. The first collection is minimal, with a strong focus on texture and fabrication. I've tried a lot, where possible to use natural fibers and that's really important to me. I was inspired a lot by Japanese culture and aesthetic, so it's all very minimal, there's purpose behind everything and it's all really thought out and precise. I want people to know this label is a dream of mine and a really personal journey has gone into this first collection, but at the same time, I want it to be relatable, something that people can really see themselves wearing and can connect with.
How would you describe your aesthetic in just five words…
Minimal, clean, textural, monochromatic and relatable.
What were the promises you made yourself when starting the label…
The other day, I was doing an interview for a school magazine, and the lady said to me, "I noticed a lot of your models are not your conventional stereotypical looking models?" And, you know, I didn't really pick the girls who were super tall and thin, I picked the girls who I could actually envision wearing my stuff, the girls who were real. I based the choice on personality. And she said to me, "I really respect that, because I've got three daughters and body image is such a big issue," And I said, you know, it's funny you should mention that, because I actually struggled a lot with that when I was younger, and deep down I never… with this collection, I would never want to push or promote a negative body image. It's not something I consciously wrote down, but I think I was thinking about it subconsciously and made those decisions for that reason. When I first began working on Jasmine Alexa, I always promised myself I would stay true to myself and not get pushed around by other factors and that's definitely key for me and something that I've followed through with so far.
Who is the Jasmine Alexa girl…
She's a health conscious, fashion conscious, professional… so she's always on the move and she likes to wear things that are comfortable, look cool and that she feels confident in.


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Wyboston is a village in the English county of Bedfordshire.[1] The eastern part of the village is dominated by the A1 Great North Road which at this point also carries the traffic of the A428 east–west road. The northern junction of these roads is grade-separated, while the southern junction is a roundabout. This causes frequent delays at the junction, and to users of both routes.
Wyboston is in the civil parish of Wyboston, Chawston and Colesden.[2]
The remainder of Wyboston is horticultural and agricultural as a result of the proximity of the River Great Ouse.
Wyboston Lakes Resort is located on the edge of the village, and includes a golf course, hotel, spa, serviced offices and conference & training facilities.[3] Wyboston is also the location of a conference centre owned and operated by Cambridge University's Robinson College. There is a public house 'Wait for the Waggon', and a service station which includes a BP garage with a Londis shop attached, Subway and a 24-hour McDonald's.
- ^ Ordnance Survey: Landranger map sheet 153 Bedford & Huntingdon (St Neots & Biggleswade) (Map). Ordnance Survey. 2013. ISBN 9780319231722.
- ^ "Ordnance Survey Election Maps". www.ordnancesurvey.co.uk. Ordnance Survey. Retrieved 18 February 2016.
- ^ "Wyboston Lakes Resort". www.wybostonlakes.co.uk. Retrieved 23 March 2016.
External links[edit]
Media related to Wyboston at Wikimedia Commons
|This Bedfordshire location article is a stub. You can help Wikipedia by expanding it.

subset: commoncrawl


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Fashion is cyclical, which is wonderful because it means that classic silhouettes like the midi dress come back in style every few years! The midi dress is a powerful staple that every woman should embrace and have in her closet. The shape in undeniably flattering: a cinched waist emphasizes feminine curves, while the skirt hits mid-calf, thereby assuming the name "midi".
While some people have historically argued that midi dresses should be avoided by both short and tall women alike, we are here to tell you that anyone can pull off a midi dress–and look fabulous doing so! The key is finding a midi dress that hits slightly above mid-calf, like the one in the pictures. That way, you're showing off the slimmest part of your calf (right below the knee), as well as the rest of it. A classic midi will cut you off at the thicker part of your calf. There's a lesson to be learned from this: fashion and style is all about finding which shapes suit your body the best, not which styles are trendiest at the moment.
Another midi dress tip is to pair it with a cropped jacket, which will again highlight your waist. The secret to pulling off a midi dress is finding the right proportions for yourself. Once you do, you'll be able to effortlessly incorporate the midi dress into your wardrobe. Take this look from the office with a cropped blazer or short cardigan to a night out on the town by switching to a cropped leather jacket!
Photography by Laura Gedeon Photography.
Browse our selection of midi dresses and find your perfect one here.
Also, follow our Instagram here.


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Urban wetlands
Through the ages, urban wetlands have been the lifeline of most cities in India. They were preserved and looked after by the people as their main source of water supply for drinking and irrigation. These wetlands are found all over the country and are either natural or built by people. Over the years, they have gradually depleted, leading to a number of problems in urban areas such as flooding, water scarcity, and water logging.
Tanks were constructed in the catchment areas of cities that were not located near a river or a large lake. Rainwater or run-off would collect during the monsoons and be stored for the rest of the year in these tanks and lakes. The city would get its water supply from these.
In southern India, the towns were built around a temple, which always had a tank at the centre. Wells were located in the tank, which served as a link with the aquifers. There were innumerable tanks dug by the rulers, most of which have been destroyed. In fact, in some areas tank building by the ruler was considered a noble deed.
In Karnataka, the Hoysalas built tanks all over the state. Some of these still exist. Festivals were organized around tanks; cleaning and de-silting the tanks were a part of the rituals. But over the years, human activity steadily destroyed these wetlands. In Bangalore, the city bus terminus has been built on the Dharmambudhi tank. A part of the Sampangi tank has given way to the Kanteerva stadium and the remaining to a housing colony. Another lake was filled up to house the city market.
Once upon a time, these urban wetlands maintained a steady supply of water for the city, recharged the groundwater, cooled the city, and prevented flood as they were a natural drainage system. Over the years, these very tanks and wetlands have been neglected, encroached upon either to accommodate more houses or to dump waste. This has caused large-scale water crisis and monsoon flooding and water logging, leading to misery and disease. These wetlands that have been protected for centuries are now being ravaged and destroyed in the name of development.
People in the urban areas must learn to live in harmony with nature in their own habitat. The wetlands, the green belts, and the flora and fauna of these areas have to be preserved for urban areas to survive and remain healthy.
For more information on Urban wetlands


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(born 1929)
Iskander Fazil Abdulovich (born in 1929), writer, poet.
Born March 6 in Sukhumi in the family of an artisan. He graduated from high school, received a library education.
In the 1950s Iskander comes to Moscow, enters the Literary Institute, which ends in 1954. Already in his student years begins to be published (the first publication in 1952). Writes poems. He works as a journalist in Kursk, then in Bryansk. In 1959 – editor in the Abkhaz department of Gosizdat.
The first poetic collections – "Mountain Trails" (1957), "Kindness of the Earth" (1959), "Green Rain" (1960) and others – get good reviews of critics and recognition of readers.
Since 1962 his stories begin to publish the magazine
However, the publication in the "New World" of the "Constellation of the Goats" (1966) brings a really wide popularity to him. Heat was met with stories and novels: "Summer Day" (1969), "The Tree of Childhood" (1970). A special interest in his work was caused by a cycle of short stories "Sandro from Chegem" (1973).
In 1979, for Metropole, Iskander gave the satire "The Little Giant of Big Sex." Peru Iskander owns children's stories – "Chick's Day" (1971) and "Protection of Chick" (1983), which formed the basis of the book of stories "Childhood of Chick" (1993). In 1982, the magazine "Youth" published a work of the writer – "Rabbits and boas", which had an extraordinary success. In 1987 he published a book of poems "The Way"; in 1990 – the story "The Parking of a Man"; in 1991 – the book of journalism "Poets and kings"; in 1993 – "Poems" and the novel "Man and his surroundings." In 1995 in the magazine "Banner" was published the story "Sofichka." F. Iskander lives and works in Moscow.
A short biography from the book: Russian writers and poets. A short biographical dictionary.


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Today is Halloween, which means the last day of my Halloween-themed posts. (Except for Christmas-time, but that's another tale.) Fret not; I will continue to cover the weird, freaky stuff of our planet.
I wanted to make this last October post somethin' special, a razzmatazz of rollickin' rowdy writin'. I wracked my brain all week and all today, searching for the right whatever. I already covered, briefly, the origin of Halloween. Did a fair bit on serial killers. I even blogged about sharks and James Dean's car.
I came up empty, though.
Disgruntled, I watched Food Network. Then it hit me. Chopped wasn't on, but when it was, they had Halloween themes. The competitors had to cook black chicken, and chicken feet, and other wacky stuff. And the Chopped logo, when they cut away to commercials, had a black cat running across it.
I would blog about black cats. Why they are associated with witches, why they are bad luck, etcetera. I was settling in for an hour or so of research when my own black cat, Smudge, hopped on my lap. She bumped my hand so I'd pet her head. And I lost the desire to read about the shit cats have had to put up with through the centuries.
I chose a different type of horror post for today: How I came to adopt Smudge. I didn't get her on Halloween, but the tale is scary, nonetheless.
It was a week before Memorial Day, 2010. My ex-husband, who at the time was not my ex, was employed with the Department of Transportation, and that particular hot day, he was part of a crew sent to the Veterans Memorial Bridge in Port Arthur. (Need to add that I briefly told the story of Smudge in a past post, but I got the name of the bridge wrong. I said it was the Rainbow Bridge, which is the bridge that runs parallel to Veterans. The traffic only runs one way on each bridge, so that is why there are two. I confuse them a lot. Do not take directions from me. You will regret it.)
I don't recall what bridge stuff they had to do; they had a couple of work trucks out there, so I assume checking to see if anything needed repairing. Ex was sitting in the driver's seat of his pickup when he happened to glance in the rearview just as a car passed his truck. Ex saw what he first thought was a small piece of rubber from a tire of the passing car bouncing along the narrow shoulder of the bridge toward his truck. Then the small piece of rubber stopped bouncing and got to its feet. It was a tiny black kitten.
Ex got out of his truck and the kitten scrammed across to the opposite side of the bridge. Fortunately, traffic was light. He and the rest of the crew chased the terrified little cat until finally, one of them caught it by the scruff. (All those burly guys–and one burly woman–running around in hard hats and orange vests after this tiny cat . . . it always makes me smile.) They put the kitten in a plastic pipe, as they had no AC in the trucks and no other way to contain it. It was, as can be expected, freaked out.
Ex called me 15 minutes before my lunch break was over. Back then, I worked for a veterinary clinic. He told me what had happened, and asked if I could pick the cat up. He couldn't leave, not for another 3 hours, and it was hot out there. I said I couldn't; it would take me about an hour just to get there, but I told him I'd call my dad and see what he could do. My dad's retired, and a cat lover. Bonus bonus.
The future Smudge's luck continued that day: I literally caught my dad as he was walking in the door. He and my mom had just gotten back from cruising on their boat. I explained things to him, and he agreed to pick up the kitten and bring it to the vet.
Two and a half hours later, they carried in the 6 week-old kitten, wrapped in a beach towel that smelled strongly of coconut sunblock. The vet examined it–her–and, other than a broken hind leg and some road rash (there's a spot on her hind leg where the hair still won't grow), she was fine. Her tongue was poking out, and there was road rash on her jaw, but her jaw wasn't broken. She just likes sticking out her tongue. She sometimes does it while she sleeps.
I badly wanted to believe that she had just hitched a ride aboard the car's chassis and had fallen off. I got my last cat, Mackerel, that way. I saw her drop out from under a parked van in front of an Office Depot. Mackerel, though, had been covered in engine oil and grime and smelled like exhaust. The black kitten was clean and smelled like milk and pee. Someone had thrown her out of his or her car. I guess they were aiming for her to go over the bridge railing.
We did a test for feline leukemia and FIV (the feline equivalent of HIV). She came up clean. Ditto for parasites in the fecal test. She got her first kitten shots, and a cage in the back. I wrapped her up in the beach towel, bid farewell and thank-you to my parents, and checked in on her during the rest of the day. She didn't seem interested in solid food, so I heated up some kitten formula in a bottle. She didn't want to nurse it, but when I squeezed out a few drops, she lapped them up.
The vet didn't want to put a cast on her leg until the next day; she wanted to give it a chance to swell, if it was going to. (It didn't.) I took the kitten home in a carrier and fixed up the spare bedroom for her, some place she could chill out and not be bothered by my other 2 cats and dog. I even plugged in a night-light and turned off the overhead light. I checked in on her every hour, which didn't exactly thrill her. The last time, about 9:30, before I went to bed, she was out of the carrier. When I opened the door, she took off and hid behind the futon and hissed when I reached to get her. I left her alone. At 2 the next morning, I woke to her meowing. She bolted when I came in with her bottle, and spat when I picked her up. She calmed down when she got a whiff of the formula, though.
I brought her in to work at 8 at that morning. The doc put her under (major heart-stopping moment for me; putting a little kitten under is risky, but holding her down so the cast could be applied would have been riskier) and put a soft cast on her leg. Befitting a black cat, the bandage color was orange.
It was two days before she stopped running every time I opened the door, and another three before she finally purred when I picked her up. She quickly learned to use the litter box and adjusted to her bulky cast. I fed her solid food after about 2 weeks–before that, it was kitten chow mixed with formula. I guess her jaw bothered her too much to crunch the chow.
Other than her cast, she was a normal, happy kitten.
I slowly introduced her to the others; short trips, about 10 minutes in length, four times a day for about a week, always supervised. At night, she had the run of the spare bedroom, and I was expected to get up at 2 or 3 in the morning to bring her food.
I lengthened the trips out of the bedroom. Mackerel, to my surprise, loved her.
She's the sweetest-natured cat I've ever had; a ying to Mackerel's moody, hissing yang. She's not fond of strangers, however, and most of my friends have never seen her in the flesh. Can't say I blame her.
(there's a blog here on WordPress dealing with rescuing black cats. check it out: http://blackcatrescue.wordpress.com/ )


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Riddlegee is a Weegee that likes to ask people riddles. He writes down all his riddles on a notepad.
- What has four legs and never walks?
- What's white as snow but a liquid?
- Beyond the door you will find, in the heart a treasure inside.
- Where are you when everything is at waist level?
- I am comfy, sometimes stuffed into a bag for more delight. What am I?
- I can make you cold or hot. What am I?
- I can change stuff on screens. What am I?
Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.


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2016 Hyundai Tucson Review
- Elite Turbo 1.6T
- | $38,990
- | Ancap : 5/5
the verdict
- Very refined, with a sweet turbo engine
- Best ride quality in its class
- Great looks with the right proportions
Cc rating
- Base 2.0L engines a bit breathless
- No CarPlay on the top models
- Turbo's pricey six month servicing
Tuned extensively here in Australia, the Hyundai Tucson is the Korean brand's best-ever car.
Hyundai's significant investment in engineering – poaching talent from well-regarded brands, and generously funding research and development – is paying dividends.
The Tucson name has returned and this new model slots into the chaotic medium SUV field, taking the place of its predecessor – the ix35.
The new model looks good, drives well and is still decent value to buy – three factors which have already put it in third place among this field of 14 competitors.
Only the sportier Mazda CX-5 and stalwart Toyota RAV4 stand in the Tucson's way – and the Hyundai is, in every way, a better buy than the Toyota.
The question is really 'should I buy a Hyundai Tucson or a Mazda CX-5?' Well, depending on how much you've got to spend, the answer may well be in the Hyundai's favour.
While it's not a particularly sharp handler, the Hyundai has the upper hand under the bonnet. With a superb turbocharged petrol and a refined diesel available, the Tucson drives like an expensive European.
It also looks right. The Tucson is a handsome and well-proportioned little truck, particularly in the trademark blue metallic or in the deep brown option. It isn't fussy or overdone. It feels up-to-date against the Mazda, whose design is starting to age.
Pair these virtues to a solid, comfortable interior and the Tucson starts to look like a pretty smart option for smaller families.
Four engines are offered on the Tucson but the standouts are the two flagship motors – a 130kW turbo petrol and a 136kW turbo diesel.
A pair of naturally aspirated two-litre petrols are the standard engines in the cheaper Active and ActiveX models. They get the job done in town, but they are torque-poor, and show a tendency to fuss through the gears when driving uphill.
It is smart money to upgrade to the Elite or Highlander grades, bringing more equipment and a choice of the upgraded turbo engines.
The 1.6-litre turbo petrol is a sweetheart, producing 130kW of power. The 265Nm of torque is delivered from 1,500rpm through to 4,500rpm – making the Tucson feel really muscly on the highway, and nippy in town.
With a fluent seven-speed double-clutch automatic gearbox – more than reminiscent of a Volkswagen setup – the engine remains quiet and smooth, intelligently moving through the gears to keep the Tucson in its healthy torque band.
Where Hyundai have Volkswagen bested is in the behaviour of the double-clutch auto: the Tucson rarely slurred or rolled around town, unlike older VW DSG transmissions.
The turbo petrol is pretty economical, too, claiming 7.7L/100km and returning just under 9L/100km. However, the most frugal is the two-litre diesel, promising under 7L/100km.
Plenty of top-spec Highlander models are being fitted with the diesel, and with a hearty 400Nm of torque, it's not hard to understand why.
Unlike the base petrols, the turbo motors are fitted with all-wheel-drive. The Tucson won't get you far off-road but the occasional trail or light snow will be dispatched easily.
But the real story here is the Tucson's Australian handling and suspension tuning. The local Hyundai division won freedom from Seoul to tune the range for our unique conditions some years ago, and the results are quite spectacular.
The Tucson has the best ride quality in its class, soaking up poor roads, speed bumps, potholes and corrugations with the fluency of a car twice its price.
The cabin is a little noisier than we'd like, but it is a dull wind noise rather than a loud tyre roar that is allowed in.
Buyers looking for a sporty SUV won't go past the CX-5 – Mazda still have the upper hand when it comes to steering feel – but the Tucson isn't embarrassed by a spirited drive on a twisty road.
There's some body roll, for sure, and the seats could use stronger side bolstering to counter the effect of that – but the Tucson never feels ponderous, communicating what's going on at the front wheels to the driver.
Older Hyundai interiors were fussy, but the current crop of cabins show that the designers knew when to put their pens down.
The Tucson has a simple and classy interior that emphasises a high driving position and a clean, touchscreen-based dashboard.
Elite and Highlander models receive a big, crisp eight-inch touchscreen that runs Hyundai's in-house navigation system. The base Active models have a seven-inch version that uses Apple CarPlay for GPS, but you'll need an iPhone.
CarPlay is brilliant and it's confusing that more expensive Tucson models currently don't have it, but we think it's likely this disparity will be rectified by a later software update.
Even if it's not, Hyundai's navigation and audio software is among the easiest to use. But the standard stereo – a premium one isn't available at all – is average at best, making our music sound a bit dull.
Most materials in the cabin are soft and yielding to the touch, including the small steering wheel, dash top and doors. However, Volkswagen continue to win on getting all the little details right, like lining the door bins in soft material to stop clutter rattling around.
Taller members of the Chasing Cars team were comfortable straight away in the Elite model's cloth driver's seat. However, shorter drivers struggled to find a perfect driving position immediately – but after a period of adjustment, that problem faded away.
The cloth seats on the Elite feel great but both the lower ActiveX grade, and higher Highlander get leather.
Back seat passengers will be comfortable, with a generous bench. For a six-foot passenger, there is good headroom and adequate legroom. However, these are not large SUVs, so three people will be a squeeze, not a breeze.
Hyundai makes the larger Santa Fe if a third row is needed, but it's worth noting that two competitors in the Tucson's class – the Mitsubishi Outlander and Nissan X-Trail – offer a (quite tiny) third row.
Open the Tucson's light tailgate – it's electric on Elite and Highlander – and you'll find the boot is middle-of-the-pack of space.
With 488 litres back there, the Tucson falls right between the Mazda's smaller 403 litres and the Toyota's class-leading 577 litres.
Despite having an all-wheel-drive system, the Hyundai's boot floor is low, making loading heavy objects easy, but the rear wheels intrude slightly into the lateral space.
The Tucson's back seats fold completely flat, which is a boon for buyers that need to load longer objects easily. Once the second row is down, 1,478 litres are available.
In the cabin, it's a roomy experience for four though five is a possibility.
Up front, there is adequate room for storing everyday clutter, with a central storage bin, two cupholders, medium-sized door bins and a couple of trays around the gear shifter.
If you buy the Elite or Highlander, your back passengers benefit from air conditioning vents – Active and ActiveX models lack this convenient feature.
Both turbo models offer 1,600kg of braked towing capacity, and 750kg of unbraked capacity.
All Tucson models have a standard reversing camera, making for safer backing up.
Increasing quality has gone hand-in-hand with Hyundai's investment in new car development.
The company is one of the few that has achieved a brand-wide JD Power 'among the best' rating.
On an individual level, the new-shape Tucson has been awarded a top reliability rating by JD Power, though the model is really too new for any conclusive judgments. But this all bodes well for low ownership costs.
The upper-level Tucson trims are built by Hyundai's European operation in the Czech Republic, with cheaper specifications coming down the production line in South Korea.
There's negligible difference in quality between them, with Hyundai running a tight ship on quality globally. Cars from both lines feel solidly finished and well-built.
Hyundai offers capped price servicing for the lifetime of the car. The actual cost of servicing depends on the engine, and ranges from very affordable to relatively expensive.
Unsurprisingly, it's the more complex and superior turbocharged engines that are the pricier to maintain – in particular, our favourite – the petrol. That requires servicing every six months, which is too frequent, at a cost of $1,434 over three years.
The other engines only need annual servicing and are considerably cheaper to maintain: the diesel costs $1,137 over three years, and 2.0L petrol just $807.
It's the turbo petrol that is the outlier, with Mazda service pricing otherwise lining up for their CX-5 base petrol and turbo diesel engines.
More regular running costs at the bowser are more consistent, with all Tucson engines slotting in between $1,250 and $1,500 in annual refuelling costs on average.
Hyundai has a strong warranty programme with the 5 year, unlimited kilometre coverage longer than all competitors but sister brand Kia's seven years.
Predicted Tucson depreciation is average for the class. After three years and 42,000km—the average—Glass's Guide indicates that the Tucson Elite will retain about 56% of its value. That's notably worse than the Mazda CX-5's outstanding 62%. The Toyota RAV4 keeps 58% of its value in that time.
There are four models in the Tucson range and each represents good value in the medium SUV segment.
The Active base model ($27,990) is a real price leader with manual cars driving out of the showroom for under $30,000 on road.
However, it's worth spending more on the next model up, the ActiveX ($30,490), which adds durable leather trim, electric folding mirrors, a leather steering wheel and shifter, and a smarter design outside with larger wheels and fog lamps.
The Active range relies on an iPhone to have navigation, though, and many buyers are opting for the particularly good value at the upper end of the Tucson range.
The Elite model ($35,990) comes standard with the two-litre petrol but it is worthwhile to switch into the turbo engine ($39,750). Otherwise, the Elite adds a larger screen with navigation – but it loses CarPlay and leather, substituting blue-flecked cloth. It adds LED headlamps, an electric driver's seat, powered tailgate and dual-zone climate control.
But the Elite is a bit of an odd model to buy given its cloth interior and smaller, more pedestrian wheels. That's why our recommendation is the Highlander model, which can be had with the turbo petrol ($44,490) or the turbo diesel ($46,490).
The Highlander looks great, with LED taillamps and large 19-inch wheels. It also exclusively adds advanced safety technology – which should be optional on the other grades – plus heated and ventilated front seats, and a sunroof.
The sole option is metallic paint ($595), which you'll want in order to get one of the best colours, like our car's Ara Blue or the handsome Arabica Brown.
The medium family SUV market is chaotic, with most mainstream manufacturers offering a model. Overall, there are 14 competitors and a few smaller models that are also quite comparable.
We have listed ten below that are worthy of consideration alongside the Tucson – but most will cross-shop this car with the Kia Sportage, Mazda CX-5, and the Toyota RAV4.
Volkswagen will be launching their new Tiguan in September, which will be worth waiting on if you are looking to spend upwards of $40,000.
We have matched competitors on price, which means some include a turbo engine and all-wheel-drive, and some miss out.
- Ford Kuga Trend 2.0T AWD ($36,890)
- Honda CR-V VTi-S 2.4L 4WD ($35,290)
- Jeep Cherokee Longitude ($42,000)
- Kia Sportage SLi Diesel AWD ($38,990)
- Mazda CX-5 Maxx Sport Diesel AWD ($38,990)
- Mitsubishi ASX 2.2T Diesel AWD ($36,490)
- Nissan Qashqai Ti Diesel ($39,990)
- Subaru Forester 2.5i-S 4WD ($39,490)
- Toyota RAV4 GXL 2.5L AWD ($36,990)
- Volkswagen Tiguan 132TSI 4MOTION ($36,990)
|Single turbocharger
|130kW at 5,500rpm
|265Nm between 1,500-4,500rpm
|Power to weight ratio
|79kW / tonne
|Fuel consumption (combined)
|Fuel capacity
|62 litres
|Average range
|805 kilometres
Transmission and Drivetrain
|Double clutch
|All wheel drive
Dimensions and Weights
|4.48 metres
|1.85 metres
|1.66 metres
|Unoccupied weight
|1651 kilograms
|Cargo space (seats up)
|488 litres
|Cargo space (seats down)
|1478 litres


text:
Photo: The cube measures 4 inches in all directions, which makes it the world's smallest genetic testing device. The company says it can yield results in less than half an hour.
The Guinness World Records world record for the largest model of DNA measures 43.5 m (142 ft 8.4 in) long and was created by Ryerson University – Faculty of Science (Canada) in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, on 7 May 2016.
Guinness World Records also recognized the world record for the largest human DNA helix; it involved 4,000 participants, achieved by the Medical University of Varna (Bulgaria), in Varna, Bulgaria, on 23 April 2016.
The machine can test for a range of human diseases, and can also be used to detect infectious bacteria in foods, find harmful microbes in water, or see if your dog has kennel cough.
The company says it can yield results in less than half an hour.
The device's simple design enables anyone to quickly perform DNA testing. It connects wirelessly to a tablet or laptop that displays test instructions and results with an intuitive touch interface.
In addition, the Cube goes from sample to result in a fraction of the time compared to traditional lab-based testing. Doctors, patients, and other users can get immediate results rather than waiting for a lab to run a test.
Paul Lem, M.D., CEO of Spartan Bioscience, says the Spartan Cube is taking the complexity out of DNA testing.
"The Spartan Cube is a revolutionary molecular diagnostics platform. It enables rapid DNA testing with a device so portable, you can literally hold it in the palm of your hand," says Dr. Lem.
"Whether you want to quickly test a sick patient in a doctor's office or run a genetic test for drug response—the Spartan Cube will provide results when and where you need them."
After releasing the Cube last spring, Spartan launched its first three commercial applications: unregulated tests that allow anyone to determine if they have strep or carry a genetic mutation that increases their risk of developing Alzheimer's disease, and for building managers to test their heating, ventilation and air-conditioning systems for toxic bacteria.
Users collect a DNA sample by doing a cheek swab, which is inserted into the top of the Cube. Inside, using a Nobel Prize-winning chemical process called polymerase chain reaction, the machine breaks open the cells, releasing the DNA and copying it a billion times.
Special chemicals in kits sold separate from the device, depending on the test, glom on to DNA in specific parts. The machine then uses fluorescence to determine if the targeted condition is present, sending results to a tablet computer.


text:
RACO is one of the oldest brands in the electrical industry and its name is synonymous with quality and innovation. RACO continues to be a leading manufacturer of steel electrical boxes, covers, and fittings. It's product portfolio also includes a complete line of nonmetallic boxes and covers, floor boxes and switches. RACO is dedicated to providing innovative, cost effective product solutions to the commercial and residential markets.
TayMac Inc. was acquired by Hubbell in April of 2012. TayMac was a perfect bolt-on to the industry leading Bell brand. The TayMac brand is synonymous with the "while in use cover." In fact, the founder of TayMac invented the first while in use cover solution. Now with Hubbell's backing, the TayMac brand continues to flourish by setting the standard with industry leading innovation in while in use cover technologies.
Bell was founded in 1946 in south Chicago, Illinois. The Bell brand is synonymous with weatherproof. In fact, the term "Bell Box" is a generic term used by electricians nationally. Bell is THE leader in commercial and residential weatherproof product solutions. The Bell product portfolio includes an expansive offering of weatherproof boxes, covers, and outdoor lighting solutions. Bell is dedicated to producing quality and innovative weatherproof product solutions for years to come.


text:
I do character and
SFX work for Oscar-nominated and numerous award-winning films.
From Snapchat to Deliveroo, I have worked on television commercials for some of the biggest brands around.
I work with photographers and creative directors to create polished, creative, and bold looks for in print or on the runway.
In the fast-paced environment of music videos, I create unique and unforgettable looks.
Hair & Makeup Artist | Sydney · London · LA
While being raised and trained in the U.K., I have been fortunate enough to work on projects that have taken me to the Academy Awards and all around the world - including to Sydney where I am now currently settled. I specialise in media makeup artistry for film and television, but I am also trained in special effects from simulation wounds to creature design. My passion in life is makeup and anyone in my chair can rest easy knowing that my kit is stocked only with ethical, cruelty-free products.


text:
"We started to introduce mindfulness-based programs into primary schools in Israel since year 2000, focusing on whole-school involvement (classes, teachers and parents). The mindfulness-based classes are part of the curriculums on a once a week basis, for a minimum of 1-2 years and up to (currently) 15 years. In order to enhance motivation, engagement, insights and application, the model integrates specific imagery, movement, playfulness, journal management, circle and inquiry techniques, "tested" during the last 15 years with thousands of children (and teachers). Specific feedback forms, capturing children's perspectives, became our most valuable resource for shaping, changing and improving the integrative model.
Our collective data analysis shows specific contribution in many areas, including self awareness and concentration skills, inner resilience, emotionsl intelligence, mind-body healing, self image, and interpersonal relationship (and academic aceivement)."
- Become sensitive to the four needed dimensions of a long-term program.
- Explore the six ingredients that enhance mindfulness and resilience with children.
- Learn about some of the mindfulness scripts that children love the most.
- Learn about imagery principles that enhances mindfulness and learning from within.
- Try the inquiry questions that we found the most useful as feedback.
Date: 15th October 2015
Time: 6:15pm – 7:30pm
Location: NTI Wollongong Campus
Address: 231 Nolan Street Unanderra 2526 NSW
Cost: Free
See more at: http://www.nantien.edu.au/content/integrating-mindfulness-and-mind-body-skills-children#sthash.IMREW7vu.dpuf


text:
UCLA Staff Assembly is looking for volunteers for this year's All-Staff Picnic on Thursday, Aug. 2. The volunteer schedule is designed in 30-minute increments, so that everyone helping will also have an opportunity to enjoy the picnic.
Volunteers should sign up here by Friday, July 20. Kelly Shedd, president-elect of Staff Assembly, is coordinating volunteers this year and will contact those who sign up in the next couple weeks to confirm shifts and provide additional information. People with questions are encouraged to contact her at firstname.lastname@example.com.


text:
"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid." -Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
I'd like to dedicate today's post to the magic that is books.
My friend and I browsed through Barnes & Noble yesterday, and I couldn't have been happier.
There was a moment in which I literally just walked through the stacks, running my hands across the spines. Pure bliss.
Then I came across this:
And this:
Aaaaaaand this:
If you haven't experienced the amazing euphoria of a bookstore, I
will may or may not refer you to the above quote. More importantly, find a really good book and read it. Right now. You won't be sorry.


text:
Every time he turned his red and runny eyes to the papers on his desk his vision swam and the voices started whispering all around his head. Voices, high and hushed, jabbering in excited tones,droning and incessant. When he lifted his eyes, all was silent.
He tried to remember if he'd maimed Breda or not. He knew he had wanted to, had mapped it out in exact detail just how he was going to strangle him with his own intestines. Had he done that? If he had, he hoped the General had pictures.
When he could actually focus on the boys, they were usually staring right at him. But they were smart, they knew when he was under the weather and likely to be at his most vicious, so they were very well behaved.
He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned his cheek into his palm; elbow on desk. He wished he could remember more details from the night before. Something seemed different. Roy seemed different. He'd been all smiles this morning, more than willing to coo over his sick and hung over lover. Not that Roy was particularly vindictive or spiteful when Ed had a few too many, but he wasn't usually so accommodating. There was usually a sternness to his affection when Ed was a bit to carefree for work the next day. But that was all absent this morning. Roy had been sunshine; it had been annoying.
He sighed and abruptly burped before he could catch it and cover his mouth. He heard many failed attempts to smother snickers and he relented, because really, he had no one to blame but himself.
"I should be an object lesson to you all," he said, "take this warning and carry it with you into your adult lives."
Since the Professor was demonstrating he wasn't going to leap over the desk and sink his fangs into the first student to make a breach of protocol, the room lightened up a bit.
"Why did you shave off your beard, Professor?" Seth asked in the silence.
Shave off his beard?
He slowly slid his hand from his cheek to his lips. His fingertips probed under his nose, the palm of his hand caressed his chin.
They were both naked.
It took a few minutes of wiggling his hands back and forth to confirm this, but he still needed visual recon to correctly assess the situation. He lept to his feet making his chair tip over backwards and strike the blackboard before falling to the floor. There was a collective gasp in the room and then everyone looked at each other and the whispered conjecture began.
"SETH! You're the room monitor, I'll be right back!" the Professor yelled, then he ran across the floor and slammed out the door and it swung shut behind him.
"What do you think that was about?" Duffy asked, his eyes still fixed in their saucer like 'startled emergency' mode.
"He acted like he didn't know it was gone," Eric chimed in.
"He went on a bender last night and someone shaved him as a joke, sweet!" Daniel crowed.
"Poor Professor," Seth sighed. "He really thought it made him have less of a baby face."
The other three boys looked a him.
"What? You know he has age hang ups! Look how he reacts whenever someone thinks he's a student!" Seth flailed around. "If you really observe the Professor the way I do, you'd know."
"I think you observe him to much," Duffy said.
"Yeah," Eric chimed in, "that's a lot of observing."
"It's like you want to date him or something," Daniel said, mouth pulling down at the side.
"There is nothing wrong with being observant," Seth said indignantly. "I want to be an alchemist, too. So if I watch one of the greatest alchemist of our time, then I might pick up some pointers."
"Oh yeah," Duffy snorted a laugh, "like how to lose your temper and screech a lot."
"Or how to assign lots of homework because you're in a bad mood," Eric pointed out.
"Or how to have long girly hair and have other guys crush on you," Daniel leered.
"You're a bunch of morons," Seth huffed. "Shut up."
The Professor saved Seth from further teasing by slamming back into the room, stomping over to his desk and throwing himself into his chair. There were those in the room that swore the desk itself actually tried to cringe away from him. The entirety of the class took this well known mutual signal from their professor to be as quiet as possible and try not to move around much lest they attract his attention. At one point they all tried to breath in shifts so as to make less noise that way, and hopefully stay out of the line of fire.
Every now and again the Professor scowled up at the big wall clock as if to intimidate it into ticking by faster.
One of the boys made the horrible faux pas of actually coughing and everyone in the class room gripped the edge of their wooden chairs and steeled themselves for the hurricane force bellow that was sure to follow, but the Professor merely glanced up, then down and wrote furiously in his ledger. This made a few students bolder, and they risked glancing at each other. They, too, then glanced at the wall clock, pleading with it instead of trying to intimidate it.
"Chapter 18, 19 and 20!" the Professor suddenly exploded. "Read them! There will be a test, a long, involved written test with essay type answers expected," he snarled. "Or maybe," he continued, not looking at them but at some point outside the window in the direction of the main military offices, "I'll just have you write an essay, how many words should it be?" he hissed.
Daniel was then aware of many eyes trained upon him; 'Save us!' they pleaded. He shifted around in his seat and in doing so attracted the very thing he wanted to avoid.
"Do you have something to say, Mr. Stanton?" the Professor-creature asked in a low, scaly voice from behind his desk. His forked tongue whipped out once and he pinned the boy with his gaze as one might pin a butterfly to a board.
"We didn't shave off your stupid beard, it ain't our fault, you shouldn't take it out on us!" Daniel cried, realizing, belatedly, he should never just speak what's on his mind but not being able to help it.
The Professor turned an interesting shade of red, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and let it hang there a moment before finally closing it a second time. He whipped his gaze away, instead fixing his glare of doom on his ledger and made a few more furious notes. The whole room writhed in tension and now the pleading looks of 'Save us!' Daniel received turned into accusing stares of 'Way to go jerk! Now you've doomed us!'.
"This isn't about my beard," the Professor finally said, but it was obvious that it was, you could almost read it burned into the blackboard behind him. "Ok, three chapters is excessive, read chapter 18 and we'll have a multiple question pop quiz on it," he finished out.
There was a collective gasp and then a collective sigh of relief. Daniel allowed himself a small half smile and basked in being the hero of the class once again.
"Well just have a thousand word essay for our semester final," the Professor noted and there were several thunks of heads hitting desks around the room.
Daniel wasn't upset, after all, he wouldn't want the man to lose face so soon after losing his beard.
"I don't want to call you Gluttony, don't you have another name?" Luludja asked as they sat huddled in the back of a truck. "Gluttony isn't a proper name, it's a sin," she said.
"But it's my name," the fat man moaned and fretted with the brim of his bowler hat. "It's always been my name. I use to have another name but I'm not allowed to use it anymore, because it's not my name anymore, it's dead."
Luludja put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palm and mulled this over.
"I don't understand why it's dead," she said. "If it was your name it's always your name, it's better isn't it than being named for something no one wants to be."
Sometimes talking seemed to complex a task for him, but at other times he would gush and tumble words. They made sense in the strangest ways; like reading a sentence backwards and they were no less elegant from the careless way they were dropped. This strange 'either or' with him was as fascinating as it was frustrating and she hadn't grown tired of it yet.
"You should go by Lust," he offered timidly and she snorted.
"I think not," she grumbled, even though the idea secretly appealed to her a bit. Lust was a sin, this was true, but in it's context wasn't it connected to beauty? That wasn't so bad, as far as sins were concerned.
"When we get to Central we have to go to church," he explained. "We have to go to church and down the bottom to find the truth. We'll need an alchemist."
He kept saying these cryptic things. Alchemists were only people she read about in the papers, she'd never actually met one. Most of them were people who were in the military, and that was like the police, and they should stay way from them. There were questions she never wanted to answer and places she never wanted to see again. She turned her minds eye away from empty houses and family pictures that were not her own. She never asked, he never volunteered and they houses were always nice, just like she liked them. He was good at that, she didn't need to know why he was good at what he was.
"What is the truth?" she asked him, "And why do alchemists know it and the rest of us don't?"
"I can't do alchemy, I have no gate," he answered cheerfully, being as unhelpfully helpful as always.
It was like chasing her tail to have these discussions with him. She should really just ditch him, and maybe in Central she could. There would be opportunity there with so many people and so many things all around them. He was scattered within and there he would be scattered without and it would be easy to slip away. Never mind he was powerful in ways she couldn't understand and devoted in ways she didn't realize.
But he was kind of helpless on his own, that much was plain.
And he was powerful, no one could stand up to him, even if she'd never actually witnessed this, she knew it to be true.
And he liked her, and he did what she told him to do.
She tapped her lip with the tip of her index finger and sighed.
She would just wait and see what happened in Central; there would be plenty of opportunity to make a decision there.
It was a wonderful, lavender scented cloud and he was curled up, warm and snug right in the middle of it. He lifted his eyebrows, smelling the sunshine that filtered in and lay dappled across his nose. Oh yes, life was a good place to be.
But then of course, he woke up.
Most notably his bed companion was no where to be seen. He pushed himself up on one hip and looked around the room. Her suitcase was open, but of her there was no sign. He reached up to push his bangs back, the sheet slipping into down to pool on his waist and that is when he noticed he was naked.
And he was naked because...
And suddenly life was a stupendous place to be, because good just didn't cut it anymore.
But then he remembered the actual act instead of the imagined act. He mulled it over for a good three or four minutes, sizing it up next to his 'great sex checklist'. As he tallied the scores he felt his stomach start to sink. There were several glaring and obvious omissions to what he wanted to do and what he actually did. And what he actually did was hair-trigger. Here he was in the prime of his life with the woman he'd dreamed of all his life and his love life had lasted perhaps...five seconds.
He was so miserably incompetent and undependable sexually, he wasn't even sure if he should even masturbate himself anymore; and that was likely all he was going to get considering he'd blown his whole sexual future on the good old 'wham-bam-thank you ma'am'.
He ran to his mental file cabinet and looked under 'emergency mortification in case of sexual incompetence', but the folder was empty and he wasn't sure what to do. He staggered around in his brain looking under rocks for answers that weren't forth coming. He was so paralyzed by not having an answer (because he always had answers), that he didn't completely register the door of the rooming opening or the sound of the door closing again.
"Good morning, Alphonse," Riza said with a smile on her face and Al looked at her hands to see what caliber weapon she was likely to pistol whip him with, (because surely, she wouldn't shoot him for that, although, he probably deserved it), and she spoke again.
"You look pale, what's wrong?" she asked, crossing to the bed. Her hair was damp and loose and she was in her bathrobe and slippers and Alphonse whimpered slightly. Immediately her hand was on his cheek, then her fingers sliding into the hair at his temple.
"Before you say anything, just know you don't have to say anything. I have to admit, after I thought it over, I was rather flattered," she said, her smile still soft, her voice reassuring and her manner not suggesting she was going to pull a concealed weapon from her robe at any moment.
"But...," Al began miserably.
"But," she stated firmly, "we all have to start somewhere and will make a confession to you. I think I will rather enjoying being your instructor. I can be a hard task master, I warn you now, but I think the lessons might turn out to be rather enjoyable."
Alphonse carefully schooled his expression, and licked his lips once. She was rubbing slow circles on his temple and her smile was still soft, but her words shot straight to his groin and he grabbed a pillow to hold in his lap even as her soft petting held him captive.
"You don't need to hide that now," she said, gently tugging the pillow from his grip. "You should always come to me with your needs. That is what makes a couple; sharing, don't you agree?"
Alphonse nodded and wondered what had run off with his voice, because no matter how hard he tried he could not summon it. She leaned forward then, lowering her face, covering his mouth with her own and he was pressed back, into the pillows, her weight coming down on top of him. When she released his mouth, miraculously his voice had returned.
"What if I...?" he started.
"You won't, I'll be here to help you," she reassured.
"I still want to apologize for last night," he said.
"Not necessary, but accepted anyways," she told him.
Al had his arms around her now, he was rubbing up and down her back. She kissed him again, then rolled to off to the side, looking up at him, smiling but expectant. Al wet his lips, squared his jaw and moved over her.
Roy heard him before he saw him and braced himself. He briefly considered making a makeshift barricade out of the trash can and Breda, not that Breda would provide much in the way of suitable cover. There were footsteps approaching quickly, closer and closer to the flimsy door that was the only thing that stood between him and 5'2 of nasty fate heading his way.
The door slammed back on it's hinges just as he expected it to and he caught himself just before he dived under his desk. Better to face death sitting in his comfy leather chair, after all, he was a General now and he finally got the damned comfy chair, better to die on his ass then on his knees.
Ed didn't say anything right off the bat, but he charged the desk and pointed at his face, fangs bared and eyes blazing. Roy almost broke and dove for the window, but he managed once again to check himself.
"How was your day?" Roy managed to ask and clasped his hands nervously on the desk before him. "You're looking gorgeous this afternoon," he added hopefully.
Ed kept pointing at his face with one crooked finger and his fangs grew longer and he was turning really red and huffing like an engine building up steam.
"You want a kiss?" the General ventured. "Ok, but we're at the office so no funny stuff from you, ha ha," he tried.
Ed shuddered all over, then he was on the desk, then he had Roy by the ears and then his teeth had Roy by the nose.
"GAHHHHH!" the General said then, in a rather pleading for his life fashion, and he jerked back and his comfy chair helpfully tipped right over bringing the blond wolverine, (who had yet to release his nose), right down on top of him. So his end was assured by the very chair he'd fought so long to sit his ass in, it figured.
"I already gave an eye!" the General shrieked.
"Equivalent exchange demands I eat your nose!" the monster howled, releasing his nose long enough to howl it. The General immediately clapped his hands over his nose to try and keep it attached.
"Maybe I'll just give you a new look by YANKING YOU BALD, HAIR FOR HAIR, HUH? MAYBE THAT'S A BETTER EXCHANGE!" His demon-possessed lover grinned down at him with a look that made demons shrink back into the depths of hell.
"Mercy my love, mercy," the General whimpered from somewhere under him. "It was a moment of weakness, actually you were messy having puked in the car and then passed out and while I was attempting to scrub you clean some of it rubbed off and was lop sided so I tried to trim it up to make it even and make you more grown up and dashing but the more I shaved the shorter it got and then it looked funny...I couldn't help it! I'm not a barber!"
Ed sat back, straddling the General and looking down at him, one eyebrow cocked.
"You rubbed some of my beard off?" he questioned.
Roy nodded and still held his hands up to shield his nose.
"Ok, so then, because you wanted to even it out, you shaved it off?" Ed said.
"It was an accident," the General murmured.
Ed wrinkled his nose and purses his lips and moved them back and forth.
"I threw up in the car, huh? No wonder it smelled funny the this morning," Ed said.
"Right in the floorboard," Roy confirmed.
"Well, I give you points for creative bullshit and I have to give you points for not bitching me out about throwing up in the car," Ed sighed.
"Points for letting you get drunk in the first place and then cleaning you up even though you were covered in puke," the General added tentatively.
"Ok, ok, I'll call this even," Ed sighed and looked down at him. "Anything less? No sex for a month."
The General's eye got very wide.
They arrived in Central in the night and he immediately sought out a place for them to stay. She waited outside as she always did, detached and ignorant, (but less ignorant lately), of what he was doing. He beckoned to her from the doorway of a small house, back lit by the kitchen light and she hurried inside and tried not to look around and tried not to wonder where the previous occupants had gone.
Such thought did her no good, she shouldn't even have them. She should just be thankful that there was always somewhere to stay wherever they went.
"Tomorrow the church, we'll go down and down," he grinned, bustling about the small living room just off the kitchen. She didn't join him there, preferring to sit at the small table.
"You don't strike me as a god-fearing man," she said. "So why are we going to a church?"
"It's just another gateway, to another place where we need to go," he stopped and looked back toward her, "when we get there you'll see," he said.
"What is it you want me to be?" she asked him, really studying him as she hadn't in a while. "Will it be like you?"
"Oh yes," the jolly man nodded emphatically. "You'll be like me. You'll never grow old, you'll never die, unless they make you. You'll have everything you ever wanted and the power to take it, just wait," he said.
She found his moments of lucidity far more disturbing than his normal insanity.
"All we need is an alchemist," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"Where will we get one of those?" she asked, propping her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand.
"The military has them to spare," he nodded. "I knew one, once. He was full of metal and just this high," he held his hand up. "He made a lot of trouble. That is when she left," he added sadly.
"Who left?" Luludja asked.
"You," he said brightly. "But it doesn't matter, I have it inside of me and he can have it to use on you and then we'll be together again."
"But we're together now," she said.
"We are, but we aren't," he sighed. "But when I am there and there is an alchemist, you will be there, too. It will be like you never left."
"I don't understand, except to think you think I'm someone else," she gave a shrug of her shoulders and glanced at the ice box, wondering what might be left behind to eat; if she could stomach to eat.
"I know you're someone else," he replied. "You're just not here yet."
She got up and crossed to the icebox, looked inside and shut his babbling out of her mind.
"We really should make an appearance," she murmured against the hair at this temple.
"Why?" he yawned. "We're paid up for two more days, by terms of contract the room is ours and if we want to make use of it, who are they to question?"
"Decorum and the need to eat," she laughed softly, before lipping his earlobe.
"I'm not worried about decorum, food on the other hand might be nice," he conceded.
"So we really need to get up now, and take a shower," she said. He could feel her breath on his neck behind his ear.
"You'll have to show me the way to the bathroom, I'm not sure I can find it on my own," he grinned and stretched a bit.
"I need another one anyways," and with a show of reluctance she rolled away. He gave a mournful sigh; watched her don her robe and kicked his foot lazily in the sheet.
"Food," she coaxed and fished his robe out of his suitcase and he kicked the sheet aside and got out of the bed.
"You know what work has done for me?" Ed asked after they'd come home for the evening and were stuffed with deli food and sitting in the living room being R.D. entertainment.
"Give you self esteem? A feeling of accomplishment? A sense of pride in doing a good job?" Roy asked from the couch where he was reading the evening paper.
"Made me look forward to weekends," Ed said, lazily sliding his socked foot back and forth, inviting R.D. to attack it.
"Aren't we lucky then, that today is Friday?" the General said, amused.
"I think you're more lucky you still have a nose, actually," the Professor returned.
The General reached up and felt his facial extremity again.
"You know, I really felt for a bit there it was another one of your bids to control my life," Ed said, letting R.D. worry the toe of his sock on his automail foot. "I mean, I wanted the beard and you didn't, so you waited and took advantage of me when I was defenseless and took matters into your own hands. Don't give me any of your 'it rubbed off' nonsense, we both know that's total bullshit you came up with to save your nose."
Roy lowered his paper and looked across the room to Ed, slouched in one of the recliners, a terrier hanging off his foot.
"Am I allowed to have no opinions now, Ed? Are you going to take everything I do adverse to your desires as my means of controlling your life?"
Ed glanced up at him, mouth pulling down in a frown and snorted.
"Well you just make it feel that way, maybe I'm am a bit sensitive to it. But that was really low, even for you. I was drunk and dependant on you, and look what you did."
"I don't regret it," the General said, flipping his paper back up. "I think you are too lovely a man to hide your face with that coarse, mismatched hair."
Ed tried not to let Roy's flattery go to his head or soften his need to make the bastard feel guilty; but it did anyway.
"Stop buttering me up," he murmured and slid R.D. back and forth on the hardwood by the toe of his sock.
"I wouldn't dream of it," the General said behind his paper screen.
"You're a bastard," Ed said half heartedly. "I think you should make it up to me by taking me out to eat tomorrow."
"You leave me little choice," the voice behind the paper said. "Your impeccable logic and razor repartee have put me in my place. Where are we going?"
"I miss Brio's," Ed sighed.
"My guilt isn't strong enough for a train ride to east city, guilt me into something closer," Roy said.
"I wonder what Al is doing?" Ed said. "He hasn't called me even once."
"That's a pretty good indication of what he is doing," the General murmured. "I can give you a practical demonstration, only I don't think you'd like it if I pretended to be Al and you were having to pretend to be Hawkeye."
"You are one sick fuck, you know that?" Ed growled. R.D. released his automail foot and went over to the oval rug and rolled onto his back and wiggled around, getting the itchy places.
"Not only do I know it, I list it on my resume," the General said in his distracted, 'I'm reading' tone of voice.
"We have to go to the market tomorrow," Ed informed him.
"We always ruin our Saturday morning with shopping, why don't we do it on Friday nights?" the General complained.
"You're always in a hurry to rush home and do nothing, like we're doing now, on a Friday night. I'm a young man, I should be out having a good time, you're dragging me down. You're a old, sick fuck bastard, and you're devouring my prime years of party going. Any other young man my age would be out drinking..."
"And barfing," the General threw in.
"And having a good time," Ed continued on, louder to drown out any heckling. "But me? I get to come home and sit around and watch a dog chew holes in my socks. Lucky me."
"Very luck you," the General agreed while missing what he was actually agreeing to, eyes still glued to his paper.
"Actually," Ed said with a small smile, watching R.D. crouch and wiggle his haunches for another attack, "Yeah."
That morning he woke her early with a tentative touch to her shoulder, and she complained softly the entire trek into the city on foot. He was going slow now, being less conspicuous, (as if he could be appearing as he did), much more methodical and careful. He actually seemed to be thinking, and that in itself, made her shiver.
The church was old and stately, but churches tended to hold a monopoly on those conditions and gaining entrance was as easy as walking through the front doors. Religion made you so open and vulnerable, hell could walk right in. And it did, if it could be counted as such and he went right to the altar and shoved it aside like it was nothing and turned and held his huge hand out to her.
"This is it, you will be back soon," the said in a tone and way that sounded nothing like him and when she hesitated he jerked his hand downward and his small eyes hardened. Intrigue and fear pushed her forward, after all, she'd come this far and there was no going back now. Not with everything that had happened between here and there; not with all his macabre courtship getting in the way. He quickly closed his fist over her wrist and pulled her and she saw the small archway then, the stairs leading downwards.
Though they stared in inky blackness there was soon a tiny light in a sconce on the wall, it was linked to another light a few feet ahead and then another; all interconnected by a wire that was draped loosely between them, looped over nails driven into the stone.
Down and down, just like he'd said. Beneath a church was a tunnel to hell and it was conveniently lit so that hell could eat them alive instead of take them dead after they'd tumbled to their death on the stairs.
The came out on a balcony and a vista opened before her and she knew the church above their heads only won the monopoly on old and stately because it had gone to great lengths to conceal this. A city inside the earth.
"What is this?" she whispered. "Is this the city of the damned?"
"Yes," he said and she jerked, because she had not really expected that response. "It is a city of the damned and it continues to be one. Let's go to the opera house, she will not be there now, none of them will. We'll wait for an alchemist there."
"How do you know one will come?" she asked as he lead her off the balcony, along a hallway at the end of which was another set of stairs. They descended this much shorter set, stepping out onto what appeared to be a messinine. She could still see the city, lurking below them.
"No one comes here," she says, "we'll sit here till we rot!"
"Halt! Who is that?" came a voice from the other end of the hall. She froze. She could see a figure approaching them, he passed beneath a light, dim and domed overhead and she saw the blue of his uniform, the shape of the gun he was carrying.
"Don't worry," Gluttony said in the voice she was accustom to. "I will make it so they come, so they take notice," and he headed for the man slowly at first, then with gathering speed. The man raised his weapon, got off a choked scream or two and his cries brought the voices of others. Luludja pressed herself against the wall, ducking beneath the staircase they'd just come down and tried to ignore the shouts and shots, but most of all, she tried to ignore the content hum of someone being well fed.
The phone was ringing the next morning when they came in the door manhandling grocery bags. Roy dumped his on the floor by the hall phone stand and Ed continued down the hall and turned into the kitchen. The General picked up the receiver on the fourth ring.
"Hello? Yes, this is he," then he went silent. Ed poked his head out of the doorway and watched, then came back down the hall and retrieved the bags Roy had set down.
"I see, and what time was this reported? Who is on duty there now?" the General said, one hand fisted and resting on his hip, the other on the receiver. He turned his back to Ed and Ed snorted and carried away the rest of the groceries.
Ed stopped in the kitchen doorway and stepped back into the hall when he heard the General say: "I'll be right there."
Roy hung up the phone and looked down the hall at him, gave a helpless shrug.
"The first weekend you haven't had political crap and now this? It's the military's conspiracy to keep me from getting a nice meal out with my lover!" and Ed threw himself back into the kitchen and Roy sighed and started down the hallway.
"Ed, it's not like that. This is an emergency. There is a missing squadron that was on patrol int the old city," Roy said, leaning in the doorway. "And even telling you that is telling you to much, but I think you deserve to know why I'm abandoning you tonight."
"Old city, you mean, the one beneath Central?" Ed said, halted in mid bag unpacking.
"I have to report in, that's my jurisdiction by design," the General said, and he gave Ed an meaningful look and turned to head toward bedroom and uniform.
"Ok fine, I'll just stay here and put away the groceries," Ed said to his retreating back. Disappearing soldiers were an emergency, as much as Ed hated to admit it. He couldn't really blame Roy for going to his post to check on his men, he'd do the same thing in the same shoes. Roy had done it for him when he use to hurl himself headlong into the field.
Ed tossed the potatoes in the bin under the cabinet and looked out into the hallway again. If he volunteered to go with Roy, that would be met with resistance. Roy seemed happy Ed was no longer involved in the military beyond his civilian teaching role. Ed certainly expressed his dislike of his service during the time he was a member, enough so that Roy had taken it quite to heart and was determined to shield Ed from any further involvement. It was nice, it meant that Roy wanted to protect him and make him happy; therefore he was blocking Ed from something Ed had resented in the past. It was frustrating because Ed would sometimes feel excluded from Roy's life. But he couldn't have it both ways and so he tried to console himself with the fact he was happy to no longer be involved, and even happier that Al was now officially a civilian as well.
He carefully set the eggs, one by one, in the small indented tray made for holding eggs in the door of the ice box. Roy kept talking about going to look at one of the new 'refrigerators', but his schedule prevented them from doing a lot of things. If he wasn't smoozing he was embroiled in some mission. If he wasn't campaigning, he was reviewing field reports. At least he'd managed to wheedle down the late nights to one, maybe two nights a week. But more often than not their weekends were shot by a dinner party or a function or some other way for Roy to ingratiate his way into political power. After the incident with the Prince, he and Roy had talked long and hard about his bid for Prime Minister. Ed knew, just as it was with his drive to restore Al, this is what made Roy tick. This was what he promised himself he would do. And even though Ed had told Roy he didn't need Roy to make the world a better place, but just to live in it with him, the need was a thing that did not die.
Hughes had believe in him, and Ed knew that Roy missed the man every day. Ed missed him as well, especially when he got a letter from Elysia or saw a photograph Gracia sent. Roy had seen to many bad things. Roy was a man who knew what could happen, had lived what has almost happened, and he didn't want anyone to have to experience it again. Least of all Ed and Al, who Ed knew were the closest things to his heart.
All of that was why Roy Mustang was so achingly easy to love.
He appeared then, as if summoned by thought in his uniform. It was such a part of him that Ed wondered, if Roy ever did retire from military service, would he still wear it?
"I know you are tired of hearing me say I'll make it up to you," Roy started and Ed gave a half smile, shook his head and walked over to him.
"A wise man once said to me; 'it's all part and parcel of the whole Roy Mustang gig', and I understand what he meant now," Ed said, reaching out to touch Roy because he was close enough to touch.
Roy gave him a confused look and Ed gave a little laugh, leaned up and Roy leaned down and in the middle their lips met.
"You think you may be very late? Stay overnight?" Ed said with a small sigh.
"Depends on the situation," Roy said, reaching up to run his fingers through Ed's bangs. "I promise to call you. I'll send a car in the morning to get you to school if I have to."
Ed wasn't happy and he wasn't going to lie about it and not let it show on his face.
"I'm sorry," Roy said again, kissing his forehead. "I was looking forward to dinner out this evening."
"Don't beat yourself up about it, I can get some class room planning done. I just hope everything is alright an you're home before midnight?" Ed gave him a half hopeful smile.
"Me too," the General said and kissed him once again before turning and heading down the hall. Ed watched him open the front door, block R.D. with his foot and give a wave.
Ed waved back then leaned against the kitchen door jamb and sighed when R.D. ran back to him, insulted to have been pushed back by the General's boot.
"I know," he told the small terrier. "He's keeping me indoors, too."
"More of them are coming," she whispered. She could hear voices, outside, along the streets. Calls from men, searching and seeking. She knew all they would find would be scraps. Just scraps, guns and other things. Lying alone in the mezzanine, scattered in the streets.
"I want them to come, I want them to keep coming until they bring me what I need," her companion said. His voice was calm and confident; his small eyes fixed on the window outside the small house where they were hiding. But they weren't hiding, were they? They were laying in wait.
"How did you come to be like this?" she asked, because now it was starting to really sink in, just what she might be involved in. There was no easy deniability, there was no excuse to latch onto. There was only this, and him, and what he had done. What he had always done. But she could ignore it before, pretend it wasn't there. She never had to watch and she never had to hear, until they came to his place.
"I was born," he said. "But not of man and woman. I was born of desperation or need. I was born to be what I am with no choice in the matter. I was born to carry a sin inside me, even though I had not committed it." He turned to look at her then. It was at times like these he was a horror. These times of rationality, (if it could be called that), when his voice was lucid. And even though he still spoke as cryptic as he always did, his tone was more self assured, more authoritative. She could feel her stomach flutter when he spoke this way. She could feel her skin almost crawl.
"You had a choice, you have none now, but you did," he said. "Even when this was young, before you came so far, you had a choice. But now, you've seen to much, you know what is at stake and you're hungry. You can feel it, can't you? This gnawing inside? I have the power to consume everything, but for all that, I know that even if I did? I would never be satisfied, because I am Gluttony, not just in name. Do you know my hatred? Do you know what it is I hate the most? It isn't this never ending craving. It is what it is, and that is just life, we all have burdens. What I hate the most is that in my own weakness I can never truly realize what it is to be Gluttony, for if I devour everything, then I will be alone. And I am far to weak to be alone."
He went quite after that and Luludja just hugged herself. She could hear the running of feet on the cobblestones outside the house.
"I see no silver chains," he sighed. "I guess I'll just have to provoke them again." He went out the door and Luludja covered her ears. But really, the fresh screams did nothing to drown out the stale ones still echoing in her mind from earlier.
The news arrived almost as it happened.
There was a monster underground.
The General would risk no more regular troops, because he had his fears and his suspicions. He hand picked his team and ignored the objections of those to be left behind. He went over strategy and maps at the site of the disturbance. He stationed men at the entrance armed with heavy weaponry to prevent it's escape. He took Havoc at his back and pulled on his gloves before giving the orders to the rest of the squad accompany them. He gave firm orders and timetables to be followed, just in case. Just in case.
Ed woke from where he'd fallen asleep on the couch. He fumbled to the den in the dark and almost knocked the phone from the desk before he got the receiver to his ear. He couldn't make out the time on the desk clock from the cloaking blackness and he grunted into the phone before he realized he was doing it.
"Roy?" he asked, sleep hoarse and pushing errant hair from his eyes.
"Ed, it's me, Cain Fuery," said a voice on the other end of the line.
"Cain?" Ed asked in confusion. While they were good friends, it was true, Cain had never called the house to Ed's knowledge before.
"I'm breaking protocol to do this, hell I'm breaking all kinds of rules and going directly against his orders, even though he didn't give them to me," the man said.
"What..what the fuck has happened?" Ed said quietly, his stomach sinking low.
"The General has disappeared, along with Havoc and several men into the underground city," Cain said on the other end of the line. "They are talking about sealing it up if nothing is heard from them in a few hours time."
"He's in there; they know it? They can't seal it up...like hell," Ed all but screeched into the receiver.
"That's why I'm calling you," Cain said. "Breda and I, we want to go in, we need your help."
"You got that backwards, I'm going in and I need yours," Ed snarled. "I'm fucking stranded out here, come and get me!"
"There is already a car on it's way to you, Breda is really good at forging the General's signature, he's done it enough times," Cain said. "We have to keep this low profile, they've set up perimeter's now, it's really tight down there."
"I'll get in," Ed all but panted. "No one else has more rights to that fuckin' hole than me! I'm the one who died there, I'm the one who..." he gritted his teeth and ground the receiver against his ear. Roy had disappeared, along with Havoc and several other men.
He couldn't think and he could think and he didn't want to think.
He was terrified.
The old city, that person, the array, the sins, the stone and the gate.
They were nothing; but Roy?
He was everything.
"Ed?" Cain said, sounding far away and scratchy, like an old record playing over a microphone.
"Get me a uniform," Ed hissed, "and think up some good cover. If we can't sneak past..."
"I'm on it, the car should be there soon," Cain said. "If anyone can find him, you can," the man ended softly.
"Or die trying," Ed said and rubbed his forehead. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Right," Cain said and hung up.
Ed sat the phone back in the cradle of the receiver and sunk down into Roy's desk chair.
The old city, that person, the array, the sins, the stone and the gate.
They weren't real terror.
This? This uncertainty and the possibility he might be spending the rest of his happily ever after alone?
That was true terror.


text:
Headquartered in Plano, Texas, Atlantic Aviation operates the country's largest premier network of fixed base operations (FBO). With over 65 FBOs in 31 states, Atlantic provides a wide range of aircraft ground handling services. Our dynamic growth and outstanding customer service continue to set us apart in the aviation industry.
Atlantic will be the finest chain of FBOs in the industry. Atlantic is dedicated to delivering the highest quality of service in a warm, friendly and professional manner. Atlantic will accomplish this mission by fanatical attention to detail and consistency at all locations all the while providing the safest, and most secure environment for business, commercial and personal aircraft.
Atlantic Aviation announced several major renovations and expansions across its network, including a new hangar at Los Angeles (LAX) and renovations at Teterboro (TEB) and Stewart (SWF).
"When it comes to improving our facilities, Atlantic is all in," stated Louis Pepper, CEO of Atlantic. "In addition to improving the surroundings, new construction is also efficient and helps our customers fulfill their mission. That's why we're here in the first place."February 25, 2014
Atlantic Aviation has entered into an agreement to acquire certain assets of Galaxy Aviation, including substantially all assets of five fixed base operations (FBO) and one new hangar that is currently under construction at West Palm Beach. The FBOs include Orlando, Fla. (MCO), Stuart, Fla. (SUA), St. Augustine, Fla. (SGJ), West Palm Beach, Fla. (PBI) and Hayden Colo. (HDN).
The 75,000-square-foot hangar is forecast to be in service late in the first quarter of 2014 in West Palm Beach.
"The acquisition of Galaxy Aviation adds the strategic Florida market to Atlantic's footprint of FBOs," said Louis Pepper, the CEO of Atlantic. "The Hayden (Steamboat Springs) location, complements the existing Atlantics in Aspen and Rifle Colorado."
The transaction is expected to close in the first quarter of 2014, subject to the receipt of consents from the relevant airport authorities.
About Atlantic Aviation Atlantic Aviation, headquartered in Dallas, Texas, provides a wide range of aviation services, including a premier Fixed Based Operations chain and dedicated concierge service across the United States. More information about Atlantic Aviation can be found at www.atlanticaviation.com.
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text:
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text:
Tara Tyler, tell us where you were born and where do you live now.
Born: Plymouth, MA; Now: Cincinnati, OH
What makes you passionate about writing?
I want to encourage kids to read and get the message to them that they can succeed as long as they don't give up
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
about a month
Who or What inspired you to write this book?

The IWSG anthology contest with the theme: Time
What is the title of your book?
Could you give us a back cover blurb?
Twelve-year-old Casey has no time for her quirky family. Mr. Zander has been searching for the perfect specimen to save his. When Casey walks into Mr. Zander's clock repair shop, he sees her as a prime contender and coerces her to help him. Hopefully, the machine will work this time.
What genre does your book fall under?

Sci Fi Thriller
Do you have a favorite character, why?
I like Mr. Zander – he's dementedly dedicated – he spent his whole life building a time machine to go back and start over
What kind of impact do you expect your works to have in the reader's lives?
I'd say the message is to deal with what happens in your life and make the most of it
What else might pique the reader's interest in your book?
The prospect of time travel has consequences – and the relationship between the girl and her captor
Where can we find your book?Â
Tags: adult, adults, Anthology, C. Lee McKenzie, Christine Clemetson, Cincinnati, crime, Dancing Lemur Press, Fantasy, fiction, MA, mystery, Oh, Plymouth, Rebecca Douglass, RESET, Sci-Fi Thriller, science fiction, Stitch in Crime, thriller, Tick Tock, time travel, ya, Ya fantasy, young Adult, young adult book, young adults