text:
Planning my daughter Sophie's fifth birthday party started out as a bit of a nightmare. I had my heart set on having a big blowout and inviting all her little friends, their parents, and our family members. I wanted it to be the perfect occasion for all the special people in her life to gather and celebrate while enjoying the Northern California sunshine. But very quickly I realized that this party was going to take a lot more planning than I had originally anticipated!
I soon found myself setting up appointments to see venues, pricing out caterers, and researching entertainment. From what I could tell in those early stages, the cost was going to be astronomical and planning the party was becoming my full-time job. Then, something wonderful happened.
I was having lunch with a girlfriend who's son is in Kindergarten with Sophie. She told me that she'd thrown an amazing birthday party for her son Xander last year at an all inclusive venue in the Bay Area, and went on and on about how simple and stress-free it all was. I was sold. I drove out to the beautiful venue surrounded by majestic redwoods, met with a special events planner, and booked it right then and there. From then on it was smooth sailing.
As a busy mom, I can honestly say that choosing an all-inclusive venue for my little one's birthday bash was a great decision. I saved myself so much time, so much stress, and in the end, the birthday party was a massive success for both the kids and the adults. Whether you're planning a special sweet sixteen or a fantastic fifth birthday, here's what I learned about planning a fabulous kids birthday party in the Bay Area.
Why Choose All–Inclusive for a Kid's Birthday Party in the Bay Area
My first tip for planning a great birthday bash for your child in the Bay Area is—you guessed it—to hold it at an all-inclusive venue. This is especially important if you plan to have a lot of guests like I did. Of course, you have to make sure to ask the right questions to make sure the party venue is a good fit.
As I said before, you may not realize just how much work goes into planning a big shindig until you actually start. Guest lists, invitations, gifts, decorations, and goodie bags will give you enough to worry about without having to stress about renting equipment, arranging catering, and bringing in activities or entertainment for the kiddos.
For me, the best part about booking an all-inclusive venue was having the support of a coordinator to help with every aspect of the planning and be there on the day of to make sure everything goes smoothly. It was such a weight off my shoulders to not have to worry about running around and picking up rentals or setting up for the big day. I actually got to enjoy my little girl's birthday and visit with friends and family while watching her frolic outdoors with her little pals.
Fresh Air Bay Area Birthday Party Activities
For the kids, the best part about the all-inclusive venue was most definitely the activities. My tip is to make sure that you choose a venue with lots of outdoor space and plenty of fun things to do. The beautiful venue, nestled in the Santa Cruz mountains, offered so many kid-friendly activities, from rock climbing to nature hikes to swimming, that it was hard to choose an activity for the party. In the end, Sophie decided that she wanted a pool party, so the kids played in the gorgeous outdoor pool for almost the entire afternoon. We basically had to carry them out when it was time for the birthday dinner!
Another activity that the kids loved was the campfire we had after the meal. We all gathered around the fire when it started to get dark and sang songs, told silly stories, and even played a few rounds of charades. I think the adults loved this just as much as the kids! Of course, the highlight was toasting marshmallows over the campfire and making birthday s'mores. After the first bite of her s'more, Sophie looked up at me with wide eyes and chocolate all over her face and said that she never wanted another birthday cake again—she was going to have s'mores from now on.
Customizable Kid–Friendly Menus that Adults Will Love Too
I'm really glad we waited to have s'mores until after dinner because otherwise, Sophie would have been too full of marshmallows and chocolate to enjoy any of the delicious party food. The venue allowed us to totally customize the menu to accommodate Sophie's dairy allergy, so everything from the kid's buffet was safe for her to eat. Making sure that the caterer offers customizable menus is a great tip for any parent of a child with allergies. I was really pleased that everything was so fresh and healthy—from fresh fruit skewers to veggies and dip platters—while still being totally kid-friendly.
At Kennolyn, the venue we chose for Sophie's party, they offered special food pricing for children, which was fantastic. Children under the age of two ate for free, meals for kids between ages two and four are 50% off the adult package price, and for kids ages five to twelve years old the price is $10 off of the package price. Thanks to this special pricing for kids, the food costs were very reasonable. Plus, it was a huge relief to not have to rent dishes, tables, and chairs—thankfully, these were all included in the price of the venue.
We all want to create special birthday memories for our kids, but so often we miss out on those special moments because we are too busy doing all the behind-the-scenes work that throwing a party takes. This was honestly the first birthday of Sophie's that I actually felt present for, and now I'll have wonderful memories of the special day for years to come.
At Kennolyn, we believe in making special events, like kids' birthday parties, extra special for kids and parents alike. We offer all-inclusive special events pricing and packages that will help make party planning a breeze. To find out more about special pricing for children, contact us today.
Photo source: Unsplash user Anna Vander Stel
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Truly A Grand Affair - Hyundai Grand i10
In a nutshell, Hyundai Grand i10 is a complete compact car. Good pickup, superb looks, easy to drive, manoeuvre and park. Fully functional dashboard with all functions easily possible from the steering wheel. Smooth drive and reverse camera for easy parking. Comfortable seating with rear AC controls. Safety features like airbags and ABS system on the Sportz model are a welcome feature. Overall I am very satisfied with my choice of a car and driving it is a breeze. Thanks, Hyundai, this is my 4th car from your stable.
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Best in its segment, but misses on some features.
I purchased the Sportz model in titan grey color. It is one of the best in its segment. If Hyundai improves the mileage of this car, then there will be no competitor of t...Read More
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Good choice in a price range between 6 - 7 lacs
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On Hyundai Grand i10 :- Cash Discount up t...

subset: commoncrawl


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May-August 1998
I was in the dying room. You know the one. It's quiet. People slip in and out as though they were never there. Festering in a bed for three months, I had grown tired. My arms were the shape of soft baguettes, peppered with freckles like sesame seeds. Lips, a permanent shade of blue. Colourless fingers and toes – lily matchsticks, sans red ends. My hair had been falling out and I had forgotten how to use my legs. Twenty-one not out. For every year, I had lived four. I was a pale vintage just short of eighty-five. But I was sick.
Sick of white sheets. Sick of fluorescent lights. Sick of ward vagrants hobbling into my room, bottles full of piss hanging from petechia stained fingers, begging for my help; their gowns askew showing either flat and wrinkly bottoms or saggy, hairless balls.
Friday 21 August, 1998 8pm.
I watched Burke's Backyard and said goodbye to my family for the night. Said hello to a morphine bolus. Like a little death itself, that pause from pain. I would feel every drop spread through each cell of my body; like someone had cast a hot blanket over me. It would anchor me to the bed, carving out a grave in the hollow of my mattress. Interweave me, you two thick threads, I would whisper; one flame licking the other in need of a partner. Show me mercy.
Saturday 22 August 1998. Midnight, or just after.
In rushes Daisy, my midnight oriental muse. She injects drugs into my chest to buy me another day's grace so that one life may be taken and given to another.
Tonight it was to be my turn. Eight months and twenty-two days I had waited for the beeper to beep. But instead of its rapid fire chirp, it was a phone call, shrill and cutting. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I hang up the phone and nurses keen in and carry me into the toilet where I piss blood for the last time.
With my possessions gathered – my Auden and my Heaney, my copper bookmark and a sputum cup – the room looks like I have never been there. Flowers on my bedside table hold me to ransom – the colours having taken on a death hue. I winch my wasted legs into a pair of jeans, my flat bum loathe to fill the denim mould. Daisy finds me a shirt that disguises my barrelled chest, breasts having shrivelled long ago, but ready to be full again. I try to wedge my blue feet into my stinking blue converse while another nurse succours me with another jab of morphine.
The ambulance sits in one of the emergency bays like a glorified hearse waiting to transport the living dead. But what of the person whose lungs were going to be settled into my body tonight? Was it a man or a woman? How did they die? Was it a car crash? It couldn't be. The lungs and heart get squashed like soft fruit between over eager fingers. Could it have been a brain bleed? How old were they? What of their family? What of their children? I wonder if it was a woman. Who would she want me to be? One woman dies for another – I didn't want to disappoint. Responsibilities weigh on my wilted head, soon to be fat from steroids.
My mind peels off, focusing on the next breath. Anything of consequence, outside that esky with my or her or his lungs in it, worsted with each breath and I think 'I don't know how to be with this'. What I did know what that there were going to be chains pulling my ribcage apart. Pulling my ribcage apart so my sternum could break. Breaking my sternum so surgeons could push past muscle, sinew, bone, veins and nerves to get to my lungs – those blackened masses like giant mussels having sat in stagnant water; lips covered in downy fur, shell white and slimy, but like bedrock where no knife could pierce. My empty treasure chest. I likened the surgeons cutting through a dense back wood to find a decomposing body. They were going to uproot the trees poisoning the forest. Make the forest clean again.
Wet roads prompted thoughts of car crashes. Absurd conversations about public holidays and the road toll had been a primitive form of optimism. Easter was a pensive time. Then we're told that hearts and lungs are squashed on impact. I would feel self-disgust mixed with equal parts of hope, but you learn to live lighter when you've been dying for nearly nine months, and friend after friend has breathed their last waiting for their second chance that never came.
The night I coughed up a cup of blood, my father said he'd find a triathlete and hire a hit man to save me. Is it selfish to hinge onto the notion that someone must die so that I can cease to exist and begin to live?
I sit up in the ambulance and spit out what looks like a brown slug, flecked with red. The cup is soon flooded with molasses – fatter and far blacker than any leech – and I rattle like a bag of marbles.
One-thirty am.
My red and white hearse clogs two emergency bays while the rain swathing the city has has evaporated. The sky is smudged with patchy clouds and the moon hangs with its silent lull, while winds fat with caution slap my cheeks; the warp and weft intangible in their bearing. Squalls skirling down from the ranges sprint off lands edge and the thumping blades of a helicopter unnerve me and I turn on myself; questioning whether my new lungs were being hauled across sticky linoleum in a store bought esky.
I'm then hankering for food. Hadn't eaten a solid meal in six months, but I'm hungry. My boyfriend had dropped in at a late night store to buy me flowers and chocolate that I couldn't eat. How I loved him.
People stood on the kerb – drunk boys and grieving girls. Grieving for what was, what may be, what may not come to pass.
Father chain smoking. Sister crying. Nuns praying. Mother's hands wringing. Friends mouths twisted into concern. Thirty-six of them lashed together; spine against spine.
I'm taken up to the ward to an onslaught of questions and a nurse Ratchet type who tells us to be quiet – 'other patients are sleeping'. She makes us feel like impish school kids until Chelse spits back, 'she's only having a fucking transplant.' My doctor sits next to me, his hair and glasses askew. Dog tired and skittish, he tells me that 'it's not going to be easy'. The heck I cared. Just cut me open and do your dirty work.
Eight-thirty am.
Thick knots of shit slink down my middle. Dead skinks, their tails unmoving in soft peaks as slow, thick cramps cling to my bowel. A bowel collapse would make me feel less of a stranger. Instead, I am in the bowels of the hospital. Visions of dancing and having sex without a tank of oxygen suffuse my thoughts, then the rusted cogs begin to shift. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, and time starts to slip until I am all death throes and thoughts of 'my-god-what-if-die-on-the-table?'
The sun had climbed out of the shadows of rain. A cloth cap is placed on my head and I am wheeled away to my very own green mile. The payload of valium dissolved, I look to see the congregation of thirty odd. The thirty odd I might never see again. What of my mother, my father, my sister, my partner? What would I do? I'd be dead. Shame it be that way.
Screams echoed through the halls and I didn't know how or care where the breath was coming from to fuel them. My mother would later tell me she didn't know how I made such a noise, but we wagered that it was my death cry.
I didn't want to lay down in the room with lights as big as satellite dishes, because I was afraid that once my body was supine, I would die. The room was checkered with strangers in masks and gowns and after some soft words, the collective theatre voice bade me good night.
'Save me, for I am the Sex Goddess', I retorted. A nurse stroked my face and said, 'yes, yes you are.'
I surrendered myself to the milk in the syringe; lily white, liquid purity. The kind of death reserved for prisoners on death row who would never wake. The anaesthetic was such a flooding wave of orgasmic joy, it was almost agony.
My armour is cut open so hands and tools can busy and bury themselves in my torso. My breasts are peeled up to my neck, and I am literally off my tits. In the photos I see four days later, I notice that breast tissue looks not dissimilar to a cerebrum – just more finely textured; the patterns more intricate.
While scalpels excavate masses of scar tissue and bloody holes are packed with gauze, I sleep. My 'native' lungs – like dead, shrivelled bats – are dumped into a plastic bucket, then surgeons ease in the donor lungs one by one. They stitch and wire them into my chest whereupon they are met with oxygen and inflate in a great rush of life.
My chest is candle wicked with such care; sewn up with silken loops only to be released with the flick of a blade and the pull of a string, for my lungs were swimming with blood and needed to be plumbed. After a couple of hours, the clam-shaped hole resembled a scar once again – my armour back on.
Sunday 23 August, 1998. 9.30am.
I open my eyes to tubes and lines down my throat, up my nose, in my chest, up my vagina and in my neck. A machine breathes for me and would for the next three days. My chest is raw and puckered, and four tubes the size of garden hoses stick out of my chest at even angles like badges on a soldier's lapel.
I was going lose my breath, I was going to lose my dignity and I was going to lose my cheekbones. But I was coming away with my life – armour on, sheltering my fall.


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The Condo Game examines the forces at play behind the fastest moving condo market in North America – Toronto – and discovers that the glittering glass hides a sea of troubles. The condos come in Suites, two- and three-bedroom units, and each one has a large marble bath, a cozy gas fireplace, a living room, a kitchen and a dining table that seats six. Allow our concierge to help with additional tickets, directions and suggestions on what to do while enjoying your Branson, Missouri Condo Rental.
But in the summer of 2011, when faulty panes of glass repeatedly fell from brand new condos onto busy city streets, people began questioning whether this was a safe bet – for individual homeowners and for the city. More likely, however, the new version of the G.I. bill will take the form of, say, providing the adult offspring with the first two months' rent for an apartment, plus security deposit, rather than the much heftier cost of a down payment on a home.
This makes condos ideal for retirees, young adults without kids, or anyone who would like to own property in more densely populated areas where detached single-family homes just cost way too much. Membership of a condo is obtained by buying the shares on the open market, most often through a real estate agent.
Mondev's Montreal condos for sale in these locations can accommodate many types of people looking for a better way to live. Each of our condos are owned, furnished and thoughtfully decorated by owners who care about your comfort. Reserve your Branson Condo Rentals today and when you check in you will receive FREE vouchers for Tanger Outlet Mall coupon books worth hundreds of dollars in extra shopping savings!
There are a couple 2 bedroom 2 bath condos with 1188 square feet ranging from $1250 to $1500. Our buyer satisfaction rate promises a fresh experience for new and existing condo buyers. With its proximity to the Naval Air Station, an added perk to the Harbour Pointe Condos is a frequent, free Blue Angels performance.


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200ml USB Installation essential oils electric diffuser with 7 Color Lights, GH2137
Product feature:
1. The only USB-powered aroma diffuser with the largest water sink up to 200ml.2. Ultrasonic diffusing feature ensures the integrity of the essential oils' beneficial molecular structure and allows for ease of healthy bodily absorption.3. Ultrasonic water-oxygen diffusing produces healthy anions. 4. Timer allows you to set and choose your length of consistent operation.5. LED light provides 7-color-changing lighting effect(Design1) or soft illumination(Design2).6. Combines the benefits of aroma-therapy, aqua-therapy and light-therapy.7. Unit may also be used as a non-aromatherapy humidifier.
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1.Power supply: Input AC100-240V 50/60 Hz; Output DC5V 1.0A 2.Power consumption: Max 5W3.Water sink capacity: 200ml4.Mist output: Around 15ml/h5.Unit weight: 280g6.Material: PP/ABS7.Accessories: 1 x USB power cord (Included) 1 x Home adaptor (Excluded)8.Color box size:165*165*205mm
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OEM/ODM orders are welcome!


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Libby Live: Novak Two
NOTES: (1) This is not a transcript — It's the blogger's approximation, and no one really knows what that is yet! But I do know you shouldn't quote anything not in quotation marks. (2) I'll timestamp the updates and will update about every 15 minutes, servers willing. The hamsters that run the servers will appreciate it if you don't refresh excessively in the meantime. (3) If you're not having enough fun just reading along the liveblog, consider buying my book on this case.
F Just to be clear, your story is not generally available for non-subscribers. AP distributes it to subscribers, who are embargoed, they print it on the date
F First meeting with Wilson
RN On MTP. The day of his op-ed.
F You did not become fast friends.
RN We did not exchange words. Most people in the green room quietly read. He was giving his opinion at some length about how things were done in the Clinton NSC, in a very loud voice, I thought that was an obnoxious performance.
F Did you share that experience with Rove that week.
RN I might have.
F Did you discuss 1999 trade delegation with Rove
RN Yes, that was related to Niger and uranium
F No specific recollection of talking about Wilson's wife.
RN I'm sorry.
F You have no specific recollection of talking about Joe Wilson's wife.
RN No
F But you did talk to him that week.
W: Fitz asked questions about column being sent on AP wire and being embargoed. To your understanding, reporters would be able to read the article.
RN I presume so.
W Some of your customers some of the largest newspapers. He starts listing them, Says Boston Globe
RN [corrects him] Boston Herald.
NO further questions.
We're going to jurors questions.
Novak looks like he's comfortable that he's gotten through this. His is now doing his nose up in the air arrogant look. and rocking gently back and forth in the chair.
Still in sidebar
Now Novak sitting with his hand in front of his face looking at the screen, presumably the column.
Now Novak leafing therough the paper copy of his op-ed.
Libby's been storing his water bottle on the floor. Now he's drinking it.
Walton: Without relating what someone would have said in response to what you said. Did you, once you learned about Wilson's wife and the fact that she worked at the CIA, did you discuss it with anyone prior to your article.
Novak: yes, I spoke to Bill Harlow.
Fitz–just the names.
Walton: Harlow
RN Spokesman for CIA. I testified that I might have asked Libby about, but I don't have a clear recollection bc I don't have a clear response.
W Rick Holt. Who is Rick Holt.
RN A lobbyist and a close friend. I talk to him every day.
W did you have conversations with him about it. Did you give him a draft of the article.
RN Yes.
W Mr. Holt had the article in his hand by 4:00 that day. And Holt is a lobbyist about town. Would you describe him as a gossip.
RN He talks to a lot of people, even me, he's a good news source.
W He talks to a lot of media people.
F Did you have an understanding about what he could do with the copy of the article
RN No sir. I didn't have an understanding with him. I had assumed he would not share it, there was not an agreement made between us.
Fitz, one moment.
F Did he ever tell you he had shared it
RN Vague recollection that he had told the WH that there was an interesting piece coming out.
RN In those conversations I had with him on Friday.
F Your belief is that he told the WH on Friday that an interesting piece coming out.
RN Yes
Thank you.
10 minute break.


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Posted Sunday, September 16, 2007
Allan and Margaret have much pleasure in inviting you to their house concert featuring Mothers of Intention.
Mothers of Intention are a dynamic four piece folk band, reinterpreting the classic Celtic folk songs and tunes. Lush three part vocal harmony, driving guitar, fiery yet soulful fiddle ,lilting recorder and the steady bodhran heartbeat define the Mothers sound. The Mothers of Intention also perform original songs, tunes and eclectic covers off their recent CD 'Watersong'.
Mothers of Intention are:
Rosie McDonald - lead vocals & rhythm guitarThe Mothers of Intention perform regularly and have played at numerous folk clubs and festivals including St Alban's for the past 5 years, National Folk Festival ACT where they launched their new CD - Watersong, Majors Creek, Coast Fest, Kangaroo Valley and Turning Wave festival, Gundagai. They play Beechworth Festival, Vic in Nov as well as Illawarra and Peats Ridge Festivals in Jan '08.
Lainey Balsdon - recorders,whistles & percussion
Penny Rankin Smith - vocals & bodhran
Antoni Pyrzakowski - fiddle, viola, mandolin, vocals
Look forward to seeing you all . . .
Bookings essential
$15 (afternoon tea provided)
Contact: Margaret Bradford (02) 9520 6180
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A small dinosaur with a parrot beak, and teeth like a vampire was found in a South African rock in 1983 has left it 29 years to tell the world about his find because other projects sidetracked him. The two-foot dinosaur is the latest new dinosaur to be identified. The report was published on Wednesday online journal ZooKeys, Paul C. Sereno, a paleontologists from Chicago University. The Pegomastax africanus scampered around the earth 200 million years ago. A Pegomastax skeleton had been sitting in a drawer in Harvard for the past 50 years, Sereno, explained that he had only recently analyzed the chunk of red rock where the bones were embedded. The rock was unearthed during a dig in South Africa in the 1960s.
He described the strange anatomy as a member of the heterodontosaur family and gave the new species the name "Pegomastax Africanus," or "thick jaw from Africa." During the interview he also apologized for not getting around sooner.
When he first viewed the specimen at a Harvard laboratory, Dr. Sereno said, "My eyes popped, as it was clear this was a distinct species."
The volcanic ash in which the skeleton was buried has preserved hundreds of bristles that spread from Pego's neck to the tip of its tail.
"I'm embarrassed to say how many years ago that was — 1983," he said. "But I was an enterprising graduate student then at the American Museum of Natural History. All the while since then, I wondered if anyone else might spot the creature hiding among the lab drawers."
His close examination showed that behind the parrot-shaped beak were a pair of stabbing canines up front and a set of tall teeth tucked behind for slicing plants. These teeth in upper and lower jaws operated like self-sharpening scissors, Dr. Sereno, said, with shearing facets that slid past each other when the jaws closed. The parrot like skull, he noted, may have been adapted to plucking fruit.
Dr. Sereno, concluded, that the poky fangs tucked behind the beak – unusual in herbivores – were likely used for sparring and mating competitions. Sereno's hypothesized that the fangs were used mainly for nipping, in the manner of today's fanged deer. ®
Another possible characteristic of the new species, Dr. Sereno said, is that its body might have been covered in quills, something like those of a porcupine. If so, he pictured that in life Pegomastax would have scampered around in search of suitable plants, looking something like a "nimble two-legged porcupine."
Despite the dinosaur's small stature, it was very fast for a two-legged creature and used bursts of speed as its main defense against the many predators of the time.
He, also nicknamed a "vampire" dinosaur because of its sharp canine-like fangs, the Pegomastax apparently used to dig around for a variety of fruits and plants, as well as for defense.
Enthusiasts can now see the Pegomastax in great detail in a vivid 3D reconstruction.


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"Kentucky Waltz", "Cabin on the Hill", "White House Blues" and "Under the Double Eagle" – these are some your most favorite Bluegrass songs that make you want to dance to the strumming of the acoustic guitar.
Like other genres, bluegrass music has a very rich origin and history and has been an iconic symbol of American musical heritage. There are hundreds of Bluegrass artists and bands that showcase the uniqueness of bluegrass music.
What is Bluegrass Music?
Bluegrass music is a form of American country music that is influenced by Irish, Scottish, and English traditional music. Later on, it was incorporated with jazz elements influenced by African-American music. Bluegrass music can be subdivided into three – traditional, progressive and the neo-traditional.
How did Bluegrass Music Start?
The earliest forms of musical genres were considered to be the roots of bluegrass music. In the 1600s, people from Ireland, Scotland, and England migrated to America and brought dance music and ballads. Settlers began to create music about their daily life experiences. This music is called "country music" or "mountain music". With the invention of the phonograph in the 1900s, this country music had been showcased all over the United States.
Between the 1920s and 1930s, Monroe brothers were one of the most popular acts. Bill Monroe played the mandolin while Charlie Monroe played the guitar while they create music. However, they parted ways in 1938.
In 1939, Bill Monroe created a band called "Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys". Blue Grass Boys were Monroe's companions from his home state of Kentucky known as "Bluegrass state". This band created a new form of traditional country music. They experimented with mandolin, banjo, fiddle, guitar, and bass. They also explored various vocal selections. Their unique and powerful sound set their music apart from other musical genres.
Their first appearance was on the Grand Ole Opry stage in 1939. From then on, they became one of the most famous touring bands. In 1945, Earl Scruggs, a banjo player joined the band. His style complemented the music of Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys and widely known as "Scruggs style". From then on, "bluegrass" music was invented. Bill Monroe was considered "the father of bluegrass music".
However, Scruggs departed from the band and joined Lester Flatt to create their own group called "The Foggy Mountain Boys". They added the musical instrument Dobro into their band format. Dobro was invented by the Dopyera Brothers in the US and was widely known to be a major instrument in bluegrass music.
From 1958 to 1969, Flatt and Scruggs introduced bluegrass music to the whole United States through radio, national television, and major appearances in schoolhouses, coliseums, and universities.
In 1960, the "bluegrass festival" was created. In 1965, Carlton Haney, from Reidsville, North Carolina initiated a week-long bluegrass music festival held in Fincastle, Virginia.
Since then, bluegrass music was widely accepted by the people of the United States and has gained instant popularity around the world. Now, there is the International Bluegrass Music Association with bands and artists from over 30 countries across the globe.


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"Mom, I have an idea for your blog."
Were any sweeter words ever spoken?
My 11 year old came to me last week with this nifty concept: Freeze chocolate milk in an ice cube tray–then use the cubes to flavor plain white milk.
Fun, right? And it adds flavor to milk but far less sugar than straight-up chocolate milk contains.
A quick Google search revealed he wasn't the first to invent chocolate milk ice cubes. But I didn't tell him that.
Instead, I put him to work freezing a tray of chocolate milk. When the cubes were ready, he added a few to a glass of white milk. Then my husband dropped one into his hot coffee. I've been tossing one into my morning smoothies (particularly this Chocolate Peanut Butter Smoothie). You could blend them into milkshakes and cold coffee drinks. You could cover the tray with plastic wrap, push popsicle sticks through the wrap and into each cube, then freeze into mini chocolate ice pops.
I may just need to add chocolate milk to the list of ingredients I freeze to make meal prep easier.


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During the past decade that the MS Monster has been living inside of me, it has left me with numerous unwanted presents. Surprisingly, the most distressing aspects of this Monster are the things it has taken away.
Lost Sense of Control From a Haircut
During my career, I worked in a profession that emphasized a clean-cut appearance. Accordingly I wore a traditional hairstyle. After the MS Monster forced me out of the workforce, I rebelled by growing long hair with a full beard. The dramatic change became part of my new self-identity.
Recently, pain from Trigeminal Neuralgia has become more intense. Having anything irritate the nerves, including strong wind and my own long hair, can set off new bouts of discomfort. The burning and stabbing also attack without provocation. Despite my protestations, I knew that there was an easy solution. Yet it was so very hard to come to terms with the decision. I went ahead and got a short haircut. It appears MS won that fight.
Playing Games With My Memory
My short term memory and multitasking abilities have been steadily eroding for the past decade. It's not only problematic to remember an event, but also to place it into the proper time line. Apparently, they are some of the disabling invisible symptoms of MS that are often misunderstood by the general public. I have lost accuracy and speed in decision making. It is worse when tired or overheated. Confidence with my ability to make rapid decisions is a friend I dearly miss and don't know when we'll get to meet again.
The Energy Crisis
The carefree life, which I foolishly took for granted, was snatched from my grasp by the MS Monster. How easy it was to head out for an entire day. Extreme fatigue, my ever present nemesis, is a hallmark symptom of MS. I also experience Hypothyroidism and Narcolepsy. Since I am living with all three of these stamina-sapping conditions, it is hard to decide where one ends and the next one starts. In reality, it does not matter. There are medications that promote wakefulness and are prescribed for all three.
The difficulty is in trying to convey to others the challenges of extreme fatigue. It is not simply feeling sleepy. Instead, it resembles pulling an all-nighter while having the flu and then attempting to run a marathon.
The craziest part is that it's not just physical fatigue, but mental as well. It starts insidiously, with wave after wave of mental fog rolling in. At first, with a little extra attention to the task at hand, things can move along. But when competing stimuli vie for your attention while the fog continues to thicken, you can no longer compensate. The tasks take longer, accuracy declines and frustration peaks at unhealthy levels.
How to Return Your "Gifts"
Fortunately, there are some ways to reconnect with some of the long-lost friends MS has taken away. Scientists are rapidly working upon ways to repair and restore damage the Monster has left in its path of destruction. By practicing fatigue management along with prescribed stimulant medications, the MS energy crisis can be tamed. Speak with your neurologist about cognitive rehabilitation training.
Lastly, since I no longer wanted to be confused with the legendary mountain man, Grizzly Adams, I actually needed the haircut!


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House and Senate lawmakers this week proposed legislation to retroactively pay the roughly 800,000 federal workers who are furloughed because of the partial government shutdown that started Tuesday.
The House back-pay measure could be up for a floor vote as early as Saturday, according to Rep. Frank Wolf (R-Va.), who introduced the bill on Tuesday along with sponsor Rep. Jim Moran (D-Va.). As of Thursday, 120 lawmakers, including 18 Republicans, had added their names to the measure.
"Everyone I've talked to about this bill seems to be for it," Wolf said Thursday of his colleagues in the House.
All of the Republicans who co-sponsored the House measure are from Virginia, a state with a high concentration of federal workers. They include Wolf and Reps. Rob Wittman, Scott Rigell and Randy Forbes.
On the Senate side, Sen. Ben Cardin (D-Md.) has proposed nearly identical back-pay legislation, with 15 Democrats, including Sens. Barbara Mikulski (Md.), Mark Warner (Va.) and Tim Kaine (Va.), co-sponsoring the bill.
"Hardworking federal employees did not cause our fiscal crises, nor did they contribute to the legislative gridlock," Cardin said in a statement. "It is our responsibility to assure these public servants, mostly middle class and struggling to get by like so many other Americans, will be made whole again when it finally ends."
No Republicans had co-sponsored the Senate measure as of Thursday.
Labor groups have commended the two back-pay measures. National Treasury Employees Union president Colleen M. Kelley said in a letter to the sponsors that federal workers are "unsure when they might be able to return to their federal offices, unsure whether or not they will be able to make their next rent or mortgage payment and frustrated and scared about their future."
Several other GOP lawmakers this week expressed reservations about the back pay because of the national debt.
"I think it's way too early to even consider that, but again, we're $7 trillion more in the hole now than we were [during the shutdowns in fiscal 1996]," Sen. Richard Burr (R-N.C.) told the Huffington Post on Wednesday. Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa) voiced similar concerns, according to the report.
Neither of the lawmakers' offices responded to requests for comment on Thursday.
Congress has granted back-pay to furloughed federal workers after each of the past 16 shutdowns that have taken place since 1976.
Congress found itself at an impasse this week as the government's previous temporary budget was about to expire.
Democrats refused to consider the last spending bills that House Republicans put forward because the legislation would have delayed the start of certain key provisions in the new health-care law, commonly known as Obamacare.
Wolf supported the GOP measures but said Thursday that he is pressing for a short-term budget without health-care amendments now that the shutdown has taken effect. He said he has no regrets about backing the proposed Obamacare delays.
Wolf furloughed all but three members of his staff this week, even though members of Congress can exempt their employees from time off by designating them as "essential" workers who must remain on the job during shutdowns.
"Everybody in my office is essential, but I felt that if that was what was being done by other agencies, we should follow it too," he said. "It's a very difficult thing."
On Monday, President Obama signed a bill guaranteeing that members of the military and some of the civilian workers who support them would be paid during the shutdown.


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Short Or Long Hair? How Do Lea Michele & Anne Hathaway Look Better?
Lea Michele and Anne Hathaway have both recently experimented with short cuts. Do they look cuter with their bobs or their longer tresses?
Thinking about cutting your hair? For anyone that's contemplating going for a cute cropped 'do, take a look at Lea Michele and Anne Hathaway. Both brunette starlets were spotted out recently with short, chin-grazing bobs. Lea Michele wore her hair short to the 26th Annual Television Critics Association Awards at the Beverly Hilton Hotel on July 31. The Glee star must have tucked her hair under to create the illusion of a bob because just two days later at the FOX 2010 Summer TCA All-Star Party in LA on August 2, her hair was back to its usual long flowing length. In fact, I think it looked extra good with some serious volume and waves.
Anne was on the set of her new film, One Day on August 1 in Edinburgh, Scotland sporting a much shorter, curly cut. It's quite a difference from her usual, retro-inspired long looks.
So, which cut do you like more on each of these gorgeous gals?
For more red carpet photos of Lea Michele, click here!
– Marta Topran
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Read more on Lea & Anne HERE:
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- Your Friday Date Night Inspiration: Lea Michele's Subtle Golden 'Glee' Glow!


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The summer of 2008 – happy days for Russell T Davies. Or should that be Lord Russell Of Daviestown OBE, given that in mid-June it was announced that he would be joining the august ranks of Tim Henman and Bill Oddie by being appointed to the order of the British empire.
Following the news, the cynics were out in force, given that at the time, Rusty's last written contribution was Partners In Crime, a story that's not regarded with the warmest welcome from fans (although I still like it). The day after the announcement of the OBE, Davies' next writing assignment was due to be broadcast. Would this be another New Earth fiasco?
As luck would have it, Davies, over the course of the next two weeks, would produce two of the best NuWho episodes in the shape of Midnight and Turn Left. Interestingly, they are the Lite stories of this season after the production team finally found a way to lessen the workloads of the two leads. The first story would largely follow the mishaps of the Doctor, while the following would largely concentrate on Donna. Both are interesting polar examples. While Turn Left looks at how the Doctor's a badly missed force for good, Midnight takes the opposite tack by making him the target of an alien invader and a small mob of terrorised passengers aboard a travel liner shuttle.
Midnight is a relatively unique story in Doctor Who's long and rich tapestry in that the action is largely confined to one place and one time. It takes the form of what's regarded in some quarters as the Bottle Episode. Basically, in various sitcoms, events are played out in a lone setting with minimal characters, minimum sets, and of course, minimum budget. It's the perfect way of balancing costs – if you've spent buckets of money on designs, actors and sandwiches, then the Bottle Episode is the TV producer's lifeline. Doctor Who once had a stab at this back in the foggy mists of yore with an odd two-parter called The Edge Of Destruction. The action was confined to the TARDIS, as it hurtled to its doom because of a loose spring. Factor in Barbara screeching at a melted clock, and Susan going all Norman Bates with a pair of scissors, and it doesn't quite hit the heights.
Midnight, on the other hand, nails the Bottle Episode in a big way, and makes the most of its potential. It achieves a high drama quotient with only one setting, a handful of actors and a healthy dollop of claustrophobic terror to achieve its maximum impact.
Claustrophobia. That's what Midnight's all about. It was inevitable in the first place. A confined space and a group of squabbling people is a marriage that's made in hell – just think of trips on public transport, with the smells and the noise and the annoying little habits of people who aren't averse to picking their nose or chewing gum noisily or discussing the latest episode of EastEnders at the top of their voice into a mobile phone that has the ring-tone of Macarena. There's a ready-made setting for a terrifying Doctor Who, and in fact, it's debatable as to what the real evil in this story is: A being that invades meek 'n' mild Sky Silvestry? Or the evil that men and women do?
So who's checked in to sample the delights of the planet Midnight? Well apart from Sky (who's initially quite a shy, retiring sort who looks like she's on her way to audition for The Apprentice), we have pompous old academic Professor Hobbes and his swotty assistant Dee Dee, the type who would probably leave an apple on the teacher's desk. Then there's the Cane family, a dysfunctional bunch comprising dad Biff (who resembles Bluto from the Popeye cartoons), mum Val (whose party trick is to habitually pull sour faces in moments of crisis) and eye-rolling teenage son Jethro (who looks strangely like that Merlin guy from the BBC1 show).
And don't forget the dedicated staff, the nameless Hostess (whose super-cool efficiency could put out a bonfire with just one breath), and the two truck drivers Claude and Joe – well, mechanic and driver if you want to get technical. Initially, they all seem like reasonably OK types after the Doctor's insisted that they all forget the in-house entertainment and chinwag amongst themselves. The Doctor's become the sort of attention-seeker who thinks that it's a jolly wheeze to get everyone to sing along on the train – when in fact most people just want to chill out and not have to put up with forced socialising.
Despite this initially amiable meet 'n' greet, as soon as the shuttle hits trouble, the passengers don't turn out to be quite as friendly as they first appeared. An unseen force from outside the ship decides to go all Pink Windmill by knocking at the door. But rather than repeat "There's somebody at the door!" in a campy whisper, the passengers naturally start panicking and arguing amongst themselves. The crisis only gets worse. Not only are Claude and Joe vaporised after the cabin's reduced to nothing, but meek old Sky is now behaving rather oddly, eyes darting around like a cornered mouse, and proceeding to repeat everything that the Doctor says, like a parrot learning to talk for the first time. Or Adric in Logopolis.
Unfortunately this isn't a tighter ship, and the entropy's increasing by the millionth of a second, since the possessed Sky not only learns to adapt to the Doctor's speech, but starts to talk at exactly the same time, and then pre-empts what the Doctor's going to say. Modern Doctor Who has a habit of taking innocent childlike games and habits and turning them into something more sinister. Remember when you were a kid and you'd mimic everything that the other person said until they tutted in weary resignation at best or throttled you at worst. It's a childlike game that's given the Doctor Who spin to become something very scary indeed. In the real world, this means bucket-loads of dialogue to learn for both David Tennant and Lesley Sharp (playing Sky), who not only have to remember the reams of lines, but say them in a precise, pitch-perfect manner. The tension ramps up slowly until Sky has the upper hand, taking over the Doctor and leaving him as a helpless puppet at the mercy of his by-now vengeful fellow passengers.
The whole concept's a simple one, but at the same time it's very effective, and is possibly one of the most chilling ideas in Doctor Who. It helps that both Tennant and Sharp are absolutely on the ball. Lesley Sharp first – one of Davies' commonly used actresses (she's the lead in Bob And Rose) and a fine one at that. As Sky, she's superb, portraying one of the most sinister aliens in the history of Doctor Who. There's something genuinely alien in her sudden, sharp movements and expressions as the new visitor learns to adapt and take in her new surroundings. In the hands of a lesser actress, this could have gone the way of Let's Pretend, but Sharp injects a jerky, off-kilter realism into her performance, and the way she acts in total synchronicity with Tennant is a marvel to behold. A superb bit of acting, and an inspired bit of guest casting.
Tennant shows that he's no slacker either. Having shown just what he can do with the right script in the previous season, he goes on to deliver yet another blistering performance in Midnight. It's interesting – The Doctor actors always seem to be at their best in stories where the Time Lord's worst character traits are dramatically turned against them. Think of Jon Pertwee in Planet Of The Spiders as his Doctor finally acknowledges that his know-it-all character is responsible for the spider invasion from Metebelis 3. Or think of Colin Baker's Doctor in Mindwarp, as he's forced to witness his brash abrasiveness causing the apparent death of poor old Peri.
Ditto David Tennant in Midnight. The Tenth Doctor's worst aspects are brutally turned against him. His smug cockiness. His glib wisecracks. His superior attitude. He takes it upon himself to be the leader of the passengers and attempts to solve the problem of the alien invader, but in fact achieves absolutely nothing. "I'm sorry, but you're a Doctor of what exactly?" splutters Hobbes, as he starts to doubt the credentials of a man who seems suspiciously clued up as to what's going on – even adding that "You do seem to have a certain glee". Val chips in naturally by growling "You've been looking down on us from the moment we walked in." The passengers view the Doctor as some of the Tenth incarnation's detractors would regard him – as a shouty but insubstantial clot. That's a brave bit of writing, but what's even better about this is Tennant's performance. It's totally on the button, taking the Doctor into some very dark waters indeed. Like Lesley Sharp, his synchronised dialogue is performed to perfection, as are the chilling scenes in which he's taken over by the Sky alien.
This is as dark as Doctor Who gets. The Doctor always seems to dread being taken over and losing his identity – think of the recent 42, for example. But unlike all the screaming and shouting that takes place there, this is even more alarming. The Doctor's reduced to a wide-eyed ventriloquist's dummy, blankly repeating Sky's phrases (and even his own – have "Molto Bene!" and "Allons-Y!" ever sounded so eerie?) with just a suggestion of pant-wetting hysteria under the surface. It's all in the eyes – that helpless terror is there for all to see, thanks to some top-class facial acting from Tennant. The Doctor's rarely been as helpless before, and the scenes in which the passengers attempt to throw him off the ship are very unsettling. Even after events have been returned to normal, the Doctor's shattered by what's just happened. One of the greatest Tennant performances in Doctor Who, and probably one of the greatest performances in Doctor Who, period.
For a Doctor who always seems to love the human race, this incarnation is left with a cold slap in the face by the story's conclusion. It's also interesting that while Davies is often quick to champion the resilience and decency of humans, some of his stories take a cynically different tack. Following the revelation of the Toclafane's identity in Last Of The Time Lords, Davies takes this harsh reality of humanity one step further in Midnight, by showing what happens when they get scared and panic en masse. The results are brutal, with the passengers refusing to listen or think – by the story's conclusion, they are even prepared to advocate murder without any regard of the consequences.
For an old cynic like me, this story is gold dust, and what's great about the characters in Midnight is that they are quite a multi-faceted bunch. The initial character expectations aren't really met, and that's the secret of any good story. Take Professor Hobbes – initially he's a stuffy academic whose pomposity knows no bounds. Now the average viewer expectation is to say "Ah! But he'll be on the side of the Doctor because he's clever and swotty and can empathise with the Doctor's concerns!" In fact, he does nothing of the sort, and instead shows himself up to be no more than a bag of hot air – all academic supposition and zero empathy with the problem at hand. He starts on at his assistant Dee Dee when she starts to make sound points about the cause of the invasion, basically as a smokescreen for the fact that he knows very well that he can't offer any insightful clue as to how to deal with the problem. Mind you, it's possible that he'll learn from the experience since at the story's conclusion, he seems just as shaken as the Doctor, almost on the verge of tears as he realises what he's nearly done – a good man who can't deal with the real world, basically. Welcome back David Troughton, who turns in another outstanding guest performance hot on the heels of Peladon and Private Moor – another strong example of this actor's versatile range.
Even more terrifying are the Canes, in particular, vengeful Val. Val showcases the worst sort of human being – the judgemental bully. You know the sort – the one who is quick to assume the worst of people and who takes it upon herself to act as some sort of crusading vigilante without even thinking about the true facts. Biff is just as bad, but for all the opposite reasons. It's clear as to who wears the trousers in the Cane household, and it sure ain't Biff, a man so spineless and brain-dead, he'd probably let you sell him his own watch for £9000. Biff randomly goes along with whatever his wife says while trying to do so in a big and tough voice. "Well, you can help her," he whimpers when asked to deal with Sky. "I'm not going near!"
Again, the expectations are reversed with the Canes – we think that Biff is going to be the decisive family member, when in fact he's blindly acting under the influence of his wife. Even Jethro, the bored teen confounds expectations by shunning all that teenage excitement and hunger for action by being even more cowardly than his father. At the end of the day, Jethro just wants out. More fabulous acting here – Lindsey Coulson could play this sort of part in her sleep (see Carol Jackson from EastEnders as proof) but there's no denying that she does it very well. Daniel Ryan adds solid support as the cowardly Biff, as does Colin Morgan who's gone on to greater acclaim with Merlin and Humans.
And don't forget the Hostess, a woman who overcomes her detached passenger care training to ultimately save the day. At the beginning, there's no indication that the Hostess will prove to be the story's salvation. She's purely there to serve the drinks and deal with the customers' whims. But maybe it's that detachment that allows her to see the problem from the outside looking in. Look at her in the background of the argument scenes – she's constantly weighing up what to do, sizing up the situation and quietly working out a best course of action. At the end of the day, she's the unsung heroine, the woman without a name. That's a mystery that's left hanging in the air after a shell-shocked Doctor is left to muse on her identity in the aftermath of the skirmish. A thoughtful performance from Holby City actress Rakie Ayola, who delivers a sensitive, clever turn as a woman who's forced to think outside the box and overcome her usual routine to help defeat the intruder.
Even with such a small amount of sets and practically one long half-hour scene, Midnight is Doctor Who at its most compelling. The action barrels along, and while it could conceivably work on the stage, the fantastic direction from Alice Troughton makes this story rock like a daddy on the small screen. She pushes the boat out with some exemplary direction that pushes the tension button to the top level. Just the small things like the quick cuts between characters, the film-noir camera swoops and the moody lighting. They all make you forget that this is a story that doesn't hang on big blockbuster effects or monsters. It's done with the minimum of resources, and effectively proves that as long as you have the right story, right actors and right director, that's all that matters. Even Murray Gold's creepy, piano-driven cues add to the mounting tension.
Davies and Doctor Who were enjoying good times in the summer of 2008. The fourth new season was reeling off a string of modern classics, and all to some seriously impressive rating figures – despite the warm weather outside. With stories like Midnight, Doctor Who proved that it could still keep the kids away from the ice cream vans and barbecues – even with just the basic essentials.
* Stuck on public transport? Don't get bored, download my Doctor Who ebooks to your Kindle gadget!
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Wrecked By Tech
Your Hosts
Dan Betcher
Dan Betcher has hosted 117 episodes.
Full-time web developer, part-time podcaster, and sometimes critical thinker. I tend to over-punctuate.
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I've been dreaming about a creamy coconut curry lately, so I picked up some pollock today. Any kind of relatively firm, mild fish will do, and this cooks up quite quickly. The flavours are towards Goan or South Indian. I was given a mystery spice, but have no idea what it's called. I'm hoping I'll have a local reader who can identify it. Please drop me a line, and I'll reward you with an amazing nicotania sylvestris! See pic below. If you're not local, maybe we can negotiate something?
This dish takes less than an hour, and serves four.
1 tablespoon canola oil
|What's this 1/4 inch long spice called?
1 teaspoon cumin seed
½ teaspoon mustard seed
10 curry (sweet neem) leaves
1 small cinnamon stick
1 mace flake
1 teaspoon cumin seed
5 seeds of mystery spice (please help me with this, if you can!)
1 small red onion, diced
1 inch fresh ginger, sliced into matchstick pieces
3 Thai chilies, or to taste
3 cloves garlic, diced
½ cup powdered coconut milk
4 fillets Pollock
1 long sweet red pepper, diced
10 asparagus spears, trimmed and sliced into one to two inch lengths
1 cup arugula
|Powdered coconut makes a creamy, fast gravy.
Heat the oil in a non-stick saucepan on high.. Add cumin, mustard seed, cinnamon and curry leaves. Within a few moments, the mustard seed will splutter and turn grey. Add onion, ginger and chilies, stirring. Reduce heat to medium.
Put the next batch of cumin into a spice grinder, along with the mace and mystery ingredient. Attempt to pulverize. (I will confess that my mystery ingredient didn't pulverize, and had to be plucked out of the dinner while we were eating. I used my mother's method of cooking trickery, claiming any recipient of a strange lump was lucky, indeed.)
|Asparagus and arugula cook fast!
Anyway, add the garlic and let cook for a minute or so. Add the ground spices (including weird lumps) and let cook for another minute or so. Add the coconut milk powder, and stir. Add water till you have a fairly thick gravy. Stir well, so the coconut powder is dissolved. I like using coconut powder because you can control the thickness of the gravy, not having to wait for it to reduce.
Asparagus cooks fast, and must be bright green but tender when eaten. Arugula only needs to be heated through in this dish.
Served with a nice saffron rice, this is a quick but delicious meal.
Nicotania Sylvestris anyone? Please, please help me with this!


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To keep the play and creativity alive in the project we started with some physical warm-ups, and moved around the whole space getting into our bodies a bit more. After playing a little bit with some juggling balls just to get our awareness into our hands and coordination, we played a short game called the prey and the predator, which involves 2 people and a blindfold in a circle of people. It's about 30% competitive, 40% improvised play, and 30% witnessing of each other as a whole group.
We then played with a line of opinions also known as line of agree/disagree.
We asked the Team to stand on an imaginary line along the length of the room with one end agreeing with a set statement and the other and disagreeing.
The statements were:
- It is possible to solve the problem of climate change
- Climate change, money and power are all interlinked
- I can make a difference to the challenge of climate change
The students were really happy to get involved and came up with questions and ideas related to each of the statements. For example:
- They discussed the difference between the agency of an individual and the agency of a group or collective
- They explored the idea that addressing issues of inequality of money and power is part of addressing the issue of climate change
Next we had an update from each of the students about how their individual project work is going. For this we used the theatrical device of standing at the front with a large papier-mâché pig (-this was something Keith spotted in the vicinity and decided to use as a prop! – ) and using this as a embodiment of their project as they presented their work so far. Although none of them readily took on a character or fictional space for this it certainly added some fun to their thinking about the process.
The students are now comfortable with the idea of creatively responding to climate change and are in the process of generating and developing some content such as posters, leaflets, PowerPoint, poems, stories, comics and presentations.


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Caitlyn Jenner, a stranger among us.
Exodus 23:9- "You shall not oppress the stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourself been strangers in the land of Egypt." This commandment guides us in the ways of empathy. So how do we become open, curious, kind and empathetic to those who we see as strange and who are different from us? We remember what it has been like for ourselves to be on the outside, scared and alone. We've all been the stranger at some point in our lives, and so it was with the Israelites. God calls each of us to treat those "other" than us — you know, those "freaks" — with consideration, dignity, and respect.
I use the word "freak" because often times that's how people view the "T" in LGBTQ. I've seen the look in the faces of some of those whom I've come out to — the shock, the distancing. And while they might have found a way to stomach that I could love another woman, they can't seem to wrap their mind around a person being born with male genitals having never felt like a man, identifying as a woman. And visa versa, a person born with female genitals, feeling much more like a man.
Speaking of definitions…
Gender Identity: Is a person's sense of their gender. The feeling of being a man, or a woman. For example; I feel female in the deepest places of myself and when I think about myself think in terms of "her".
Gender Expression: Is the way we express, or make clear our gender identity (masculinity, or femininity). Many times we do this in the kind of clothing we wear and pronouns used in talking about ourselves. For example; my gender expression is female so I'm not going to grow a beard, but I also like wearing baseball hats.
Sexual Identity/Orientation: Is how we think about ourselves in who we are romantically, or sexually attracted to. For example; I am a woman who is sexually attracted to women and so my sexual orientation/identity is lesbian.
Transgender: A person's gender identity does not match their assigned sex at birth. For example; my sisters story of being assigned a male gender at birth, but the gender identity of male does not match her sense of herself. She feels and experiences herself as very much female, even though she has the physical body of male.
I want to point out one quick thing here; they are people who are transgender, not transgendered. I was actually taught that in a most gracious way by a trans person I knew. You see, no one can be "ed". I'm not lesbianed, you're not straighted, and neither is a transgender person. They are people, nouns, not verbs. And certainly not "freaks." In fact, all of us can grow tremendously from truly considering and listening to those who are transgender. Even someone like myself who might be considered an expert on the LGBTQ community has much to learn. The absolute best way to learn is by getting to know someone personally. Let yourself open your heart and life and build a relationship with someone who is other than you. It's been humbling, but wonderful for me.
Here's a great article with a list of 6 ways you can be supportive/understand it when someone comes out to you as transgender.
So if I don't think people who are transgender are freaks, what do I think of them? To start I must go to my own family. In my life I've had two younger brothers. One whom I shared the same parents with and the other came from close family friends. My family was close with another family at church even before I, or him were born. They moved away before having children and so I didn't connect with them much until I went away to a college near their home in the mid-west. They quickly became my family; my home away from home and one of their sons became my brother. I grew close with the whole family, but especially with my new found brother—we had a special bond; neither of us could imagine that some day we would share such a place of understanding as in our sexual orientations as we eventually both come out as gay.
I liked having two brothers; in fact my "new" brother even performed a beautiful poem he had written for my wife and I for our wedding. So when he called to say he was transgender…. it rocked me. Of course I loved him, supported him and wanted him to be happy, but I didn't know how to make the transition of starting to call him, "her." I was confused at how to relate to this new person and I felt a bit awkward in it. Not to mention it was completely unfamiliar to call her by another name – not the one I had known my whole life. I had so much anxiety that I would hurt her by accident. Before picking up the phone to call her, I would remind myself to call her by her selected name and to use female pronouns. I'm not very good at change, just ask my wife and she could give a list of all the ways I rebel and pretty much fall apart when change comes my way; so for this to change was challenging for me, but I was determined because of my love for her. Seeing her for the first time after her coming out I had lots of questions. Would she be the person I've grown to care about? What would we talk about? What will she look like, I wondered? What if I have feelings, or thoughts I feel ashamed of? But when I saw her, and I know this will feel anticlimactic, it felt so much simpler than all of that. Of course the first few minutes of conversation I didn't hear much of what she said, I was taking-in the newness. I was processing that this person before me was the same and yet different. There have been times when I have missed the brother I had previously known, but that's in a small proportion to the gratitude, admiration and love I have for my sister now. The simplicity that I found as we shared lunch that day and on the days since is that she is still herself – in fact she is a better version of herself. I hadn't realized how much she had held back and parts that had been wounded because of the holding back. But it's been amazing to witness the fullness of personhood that has come about as she's allowed herself to live into who she fully is. She is strong, she is beautiful and she is my sister.
This is one of the reasons why I perked up when I heard about Bruce Jenner coming out as transgender. Not that all trans people are the same, but because I felt a connection to this story, the journey. After his interview with Diane Sawyer I quickly Googled images, looking for photos of Bruce as a woman. There was something that I desperately wanted to connect with, an image to integrate the idea of him being a her. The transition felt hard to do in my mind without an image. But alas there was nothing on Google that really helped. However I quickly became glad that there wasn't a physical image available because what I realized is that it gave me time to think of her in deeper terms than just her physical appearance. She was a woman no matter what she looked like and I needed to figure out a way to integrate that into my mind. It was actually kind of a deep process and I'm grateful for where it took me. To a deeper place of connecting with what gender truly is, beyond appearance. It wasn't too long after this that Vanity Fair came out with their cover story on Caitlyn Jenner and it took my breath away! She is beautiful and so very herself. I cried.
So why are so many Christians, conservatives and people treating transgender issues and people who are trans, like Caitlyn Jenner, like my sister and those who reach out to me for support in therapy with violence, with such distain and lack of common decency? I see and hear stories of people yelling violent slurs, posting hateful comments and purposefully calling them the wrong pronoun simply to de-humanize and shame them. It's times like this that I find myself going to stories like Sodom and Gomorrah.
I won't go into the theology and exegete the passage found in Genesis, actually Daniel Helminiak does a wonderful job of this and you can see a summary of his work here. What Helminiak and many others have discovered when looking at the language, historical context, literary context of the story within scripture, as well as comparison with other passages found in the Bible that discuss the story of Sodom and Gomorrah is that this story is actually about the need for radical hospitality. In other words, caring for the needs of, being generous with, and behaving kindly towards those we see as foreign to us. And when I say "foreign" I don't mean those people sitting at the table next to you at IHOP who are visiting from Germany. I mean foreign like those who are so different from you that you get a twinge of anxiety thinking about it.
You see, the men of Sodom felt this way about the visitors. They wanted to keep their power, wealth and prestige and felt angry and anxious when considering someone from the outside. Because of this, they intended to ridicule, harm with violent acts and shame the visitors. Yes, the way they were going to do this was by raping them through anal sex, but that's not the point of the story. Anal sex was the vehicle of violence they chose. A violence just like those who drive by and yell profanity and scary threats to my little sister (who is trans) when she's riding her bike, churches who turn away a person who is transgender from taking communion, police officers who beat up a person who is trans for "resisting" arrest, or news casters who attempt to belittle and shame Caitlyn Jenner by calling her "him" on purpose. What is the difference between all of this and what occurred in Sodom? There are also people in the Church, Christian communities, and political powers who use violence, manipulation, pressure and fear to make the visitors (the other) they encounter feel scared and unwelcome. Sound like anyone you know? If you plan on voting for someone who calls themselves a Christian, but belittles people who are transgender and makes fun of their "way of being", you can be sure that there is nothing less Christ-like than that.
When I think about stories of church members doing forceful exorcisms, even ministers trying to do this to other ministers who identify as a different gender than the one they were assigned at birth, even kicking them out of the denomination when after the exorcism or "deep inner healing prayer", they report still having gender identity issues. Those who picket funerals of service members with signs that say, "Fags are going to Hell", or pastors unwilling to baptize a dying baby because her parents are two gay men. The church leader who loses her job because she comes out as a lesbian, or the junior high student being asked to never return to youth group because he's too flamboyant, or a minister refusing to perform a funeral for someone because they were gay, or, or, or.
I want you to know these are not stories I've made up; these are actual stories of real people. And I could go on, but alas my heart can't bear the heartache. Even as I write it, I see the faces of those harmed by such experiences and I see the look of devastation, exhaustion and sadness and I ache.
God isn't just asking us to feed those who are hungry who happen to knock on our doors, God is calling us to a radical kind of love, care and way of being with the other. We are being called to see and hear of Caitlyn Jenner's story and ask how we can affirm her humanness, personhood and beauty. We are being called to notice when someone is transgender and be willing to ask them with openness what their preferred pronoun is and call them by it, even if we disagree with their decision. We are being called to provide churches where every single person no matter what their sexual orientation, or gender identity is can go, receive the blood and wine, serve, become members at and have a safe place to worship God in. I dream of a world where Caitlyn Jenner, my sister and all those I've had the privilege of working with will feel safe walking down the street, loved as a child of God and beautiful just as they are.


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Merry Christmas and a happy New Year from our family to yours.
Kane Hodder is Fucking Dead*
On the road - Lockhart, Texas.
Jim Thomsen.
I first met Jim when I was the staff photographer for The Bainbridge Island Review, oh, so long ago.
It was a small, twice-weekly paper with a tiny staff, a storied past, and a boatload of Washington Newspaper Publisher Awards. A great number of those awards were taken home by Jim for news and business stories, but the majority were for his elegant, eloquent sports writing.
One thing that's been stuck in my head for the past 10 years, is that Jim once used the word-pair "somnambulant wave" in the description of a shot on goal in a men's water polo game. Yes, yes. Bainbridge High had a men's water polo team. Pretentious? Perhaps. And could writing about a men's water polo match in such a manner be just a little bit pretentious as well? You betcha. I guarantee 98-percent of that wealthy, erudite Seattle-bedroom-community island went for their dictionaries that day, and I guarantee Jim had a broad grin (with just a hint of a smirk) when he picked up his WNPA award for "best sportswriting" that year.
Another thing I liked most about working with Jim was that he never, ever sat up in the press box at football games, even if it was 40-degrees and pissing rain sideways, which it usually was. He'd be pacing the sidelines, watching and listening with a bent ear, scribbling notes, squinting, occasionally throwing up his arms at a call he just couldn't believe. You never got a rote, play-by-play account of the game from Jim. You always got a well-tempered story.
I am also truly thankful he also never uttered the dreadfully possessive and supremely insulting words for a photojournalist, "my photographer."
When Jim got in touch with me to shoot some promotional portraits for his first nonfiction crime book, all I needed to know was when and where. These are a few of my favorites.
I had Jim write a quick bio for this:
"Jim Thomsen is a newspaper editor in Bremerton, Wash., who is hoping to transition to becoming an author of nonfiction crime books. Photos from this shoot will adorn his still-under-construction Web site (jimthomsen.com when it's ready) and the back cover of his still-under-construction first book, "Everybody Here Gets Out Alive."


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11.00 Mass – St Paul's Pro-Cathedral
11.00 Mass – St Paul's Pro-Cathedral ( not during the month of August )
11.00 Mass – Sacred Heart Major Seminary Chapel, Victoria, Gozo
Feast Days and any changes to these times will be shown on the weekly notice sheets and on the notice boards.
Holy Communion and Pastoral visits are happily fulfilled on speaking to Fr Simon or a Locum Priest
It is possible to be married in the Anglican Chaplaincy in Malta in St Paul's Pro-Cathedral, Valletta.
Please contact the clergy to discuss a potential wedding.
It is also possible to arrange marriage blessings where there has been a civil ceremony and these too take place in either of our churches.
The Anglican Church is also happy to arrange services of thanksgiving or renewal of vows for those who have been married for some time; this can take place during one of our normal services or as a special event.
Please contact : The Chancellor The Reverend Canon Simon Godfrey 00356 7991 3521
Wedding Fees in Malta
Weddings and Services of Dedication and Commitment following a Register Office Marriage : €1250 for non-residents €650 (or Sterling equivalent) for Malta residents on the Church of England Electoral Roll paid as a Donation and Gift Aided if UK Tax payer. (Fees do not include Organist, Choir, Bells, Flowers etc)
Renewal of Vows and Anniversary Services of Thanksgiving please ask the Chancellor
( See 'Finance' section above for Gift Aid information )
The Chaplain will gladly help anyone who seeks their assistance.
Please contact them with requests for baptisms and confirmations, blessings, funerals or other services.
They are happy to answer questions about any of the above.
For more information on these subjects see the Church of England web site
WEDDINGS: http://www.cofe.anglican.org/lifeevents/weddings
FUNERALS: http://www.cofe.anglican.org/lifeevents/funerals
BAPTISMS: http://www.cofe.anglican.org/lifeevents/baptismconfirm


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Our team of six Intel Education Service Corps volunteers (Noel, Lisa, Marne, John, Abdul and Nara) worked for two weeks in Kenya to help two local organizations deploy Intel-powered classmate PCs for the benefit of their teachers and children. We spent the first weekin Thika with Orphans Overseas, and set off on Saturday, March 6th for the Kageno Project on Rusinga Island.
Getting to Rusinga was a bit of a journey. Back to Nairobi, then a flight over central Kenya, a two hour car ride, then onto the waters of Lake Victoria on the last ferry of the day (crowded!). Making landfall at Mbita we finished the final few miles in darkness, our overloaded taxis occasionally scraping bottom in deep ruts.
We arrived with eight new classmate PCs we picked up in Nairobi, and a week's worth of remote installation and support experience. Although we had shed a few layers of our naïveté during our work in Thika the week before, we all had a feeling that there would be a few more opportunities to understand what it means to deploy and use PCs in a remote location. In places like this, remote takes on a whole new meaning. Remote means limited, intermittent and costly connectivity. Remote means 'if you brought it, we have it.' Mostly, remote means figure it out on your own!
We went straight to work the next morning, gathering with teachers from four schools served by the Kageno Mobile Computer Lab. We got to know each other and mapped out a plan for the week under the bird-filled trees of the Kageno Community Center on the banks of Lake Victoria. Our host, Kageno Kenya Project Director Alphonce Okuku, helped shape the plan and occasionally kicked trees to dislodge the noisiest birds. We set out to integrate new computers into the project, help teachers understand how the classmate PCs can help deliver their curriculum, repair some ailing desktops at various schools, and help teachers improve their knowledge and use of PCs.
The classmate PCs spent the night in their custom made rack in the back of a small SUV. When the car pulls out of its overnight shed, the equatorial sun hits the four large solar panels mounted on its roof (this thing looks like an aircraft carrier!) charging the two massive 200 amp-hour batteries which continues through the day. An inverter produces 220V AC, powering the router and the classmate PC power converters. A network signal is broadcast to classrooms by a big antenna mounted on the outside of the SUV.
This week, we went with computer teacher Arphaxad Nguka on his weekly rounds to 20 classes. He arrives before class time and, with student assistants, disconnects computers from their battery chargers and carries them into the classroom. At Uya Primary School the classroom is often under shady trees with incredible views of Lake Victoria. The classmate PCs are opened, logins are entered, and the tell-tale chime of students connecting to the teaching session start to sound around the classroom.
The students are clearly focused–almost entranced–as they maneuver the touchpad and keys to repeat the steps in the lesson. This week's lesson started off with inserting pictures and clip art into documents. Passing the PC in turn is the norm, but sometimes the temptation to turn on the camera and make faces is just too much, and quiet fun may happen until Mr. Nguka restores decorum. We also installed a new learning program provided by the Maendeleo Foundationwhich the students learned quickly, having fun while improving their touchpad and keyboard skills.
Early in the week, some classes had eight or more students crowding around each classmate PC. Taking turns to repeat the lesson meant slow progress. Happily, we were able to fulfill the students' #1 request: add more computers! The new classmate PCs doubled the installation, and the group sizes dropped to a more manageable three or four. Now as we assisted in Mr. Nguka's classes, the pace was faster, and students had more keyboard time, and more topics could be covered. At first, Mr. Nguka coached them through the lessons and we were classroom helpers. But as the week went on, Nara began to occasionally take the lead, and the students enjoyed his humor and encouragement.
Students strive to meet the national education standards and preparation for the national exams is rigorous. When we quietly entered a classroom to see a practice exam being conducted, their concentration was absolute — no one looked up even for a moment. But in these schools, we saw additional burdens. Class sizes were large. Classrooms frequently had dirt floors, open doorways and windows devoid of glass or shutters. Three or four students sit in each desk, with plank seats and desktops. Grid power is miles away and technology support and expertise is minimal. Can a few computers make a difference here?
Yes, it can. One principal told us, "Our schools are of modest design, but we are constantly learning to challenge ourselves and provide the best for our students." Attitudes and aspirations of teachers and students compare more to the expansive views of Lake Victoria outside their schools than the confines of their small classrooms. Here, the idea of computers in the classroom is more than learning to paste clip art into a report. It is about a future that the computers represent, and what is possible.
Of course there were problems. The earlier versions of the software and operating system worked fine. But our systems arrived with some updates, and we had to go through the painful process of rolling them back. Abdul served as chief brain surgeon, and by mid-week Marne had lead the charge to have a uniform installation on all 15 classmate PCs. Most importantly, Mr. Nguka learned how to keep the software installation consistent. Throughout the week we also had opportunities to work with teachers and repair some other PCs as well.
A project like this can only happen when there is dedicated and influential local support. Our thanks go especially to Alphonce, to Nguka, to Herma and Irene, to Dominique, Justice and Raymond, who helped us, fed us, drove us, taught us, told us funny stories, built bonfires, came to visit and made us feel at home.
Most memorable ?
– Getting to be in class with the students. Not only to help deliver the classes, but getting to interact with them after class. Lisa was mobbed by curious students more than once as she showed photos of family and home on her laptop.
– Working with the Mobile Solar Computer Lab – one of only a few we know about. What a great way to bring technology to off-grid locations.
– Seeing John telling his story to the students. Time and time again, students were riveted as he shared his story of growing up in Kenya, going through the same education system, and entering college to becoming a computer engineer.
– Our long after-dinner discussions with Alphonce. We learned how HIV has devastated this community. 18% occurrence sounds high until you hear it is actually an improvement from 42% a few years ago. The impact to families, education and livelihoods will weigh on the community for years to come. He led us to closely examine our own ideas and motivations about development and sustainability, and how they may fall short in the face of the pressing needs of communities like this around the world.
Slowly and with purpose, rebuilding from the HIV devastation goes on. And the idea of kageno, meaning hope, is at its core. Something like this just doesn't happen every day, and we are very grateful to get to have a small part in it.
IESC Kilimanjaro Team on Rusinga Island, Kenya: Nara Sundararajan, Lisa Depew, Marne Dunn, Abdulai Sei, John Kariuki, and Noel Durrant.


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