text:
Away in a manger, no crib for His bed
The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head
The stars in the bright sky looked down where He lay
The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay
The cattle are lowing the baby wakes
But little Lord Jesus no crying He makes
I love Thee, Lord Jesus look down from the sky
And stay by my side, 'til morning is nigh.
Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever and love me I pray
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care
And take us to heaven to live with Thee there.
Scripture reference: Luke 2:7
Although this children's song often carries the appellation "Luther's Carol" one thing we can be certain of; Martin Luther had nothing to do with it. Indeed, the cloying sentimentality of the words places them strictly in the late Victorian era. After all, the adjective "sweet" to describe the head of the baby could only come from then and the conceit that a baby was so "good" he would not cry hardly belongs to the earthy Martin Luther. It is possible that they were written for the 400th anniversary of Luther's birth in 1883.
The words of the first two stanzas originally appeared in a Little children's book: for schools and families. By authority of the general council of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in North America (Philadelphia, J. C. File, 421 Market Street, 1885). They were not among the other Christmas carols, but as a "Nursery" hymn, the very last item in the volume. The date of copyright is June 16, 1885, but the preface is dated "Christmas 1884". They next appeared in Dainty Songs for Little Lads and Lasses by James R Murray (Cincinnati, Ohio: The John Church Co., 1887). Murray gave the song the heading "Luther's Cradle Hymn".
Despite extensive research, no-one has been able to find the author of the hymn. The German version did not appear until 1934 and is clearly a translation from the English. All we can say that is that it a late Victorian song, probably written by someone within the American Lutheran tradition.
The author of the third stanza is not much clearer. A collection published by Charles H Gabriel in 1892, called Gabriel's Vineyard Songs gives the third stanza for the first time. Bishop William F. Anderson says John Thomas McFarland wrote it sometime between 1904-08, while the Bishop was Secretary of the Board of Education. Obviously, the dates are too far off to accept the story at its face value, particularly since McFarland's claim comes second-hand. The circumstances as related by Bishop Anderson permit the interpretation that the Bishop merely thought McFarland had just written the stanza for his use, whereas actually he had written it much earlier for another occasion. Or McFarland may have simply copied it for the Bishop from some source known to him, and the Bishop deduced his authorship from the fact that the copy was in McFarland's hand. In either case, the 1892 publication renders the Bishop's story suspect, and additional evidence must be found before McFarland can be safely credited with the writing of the third stanza.
McFarland was educated at Simpson College, Iowa Wesleyan University, and the Boston University School of Theology. He pastored in Iowa, Illinois, Rhode Island, New York, and Kansas. He also served as Secretary of the Board of Sunday Schools in New York City, secretary of the Sunday School Union, and editor of Sunday school materials for the Methodist Episcopal Church.
According to Richard Hill in an article from December 1945 the carol has been published in 41 different settings. In America, the song is usually sung to the tune "Mueller". Who was Mueller? From 1921 to 1945 among the collections in which "Away in a Manger" appears, fifteen have come out for Martin Luther as the composer of this particular melody and fifteen for Carl Mueller. Several collections in the early twenties give no composer at all, and after 1934 a trend developed to pass off the problem entirely by giving the origin of the tune simply as "German" or "Traditional." Carl Mueller in German is about the same as John Smith in English, and no particular Carl Mueller has been discovered to accept the attribution. On the other hand the tune first appeared in 1887 in James R Murray's publication and two years later, the tune is credited to JRM.
Murray is at least known to have been a musician. From 1856-1859, Murray studied at the Musical Institute in North Reading, Massachusetts, under Lowell Mason, George Root, William Bradbury, and George Webb. In 1862, in the midst of the American civil war, Murray enlisted as an Army musician. His first song, "Daisy Deane," was composed in a Virginia camp in 1863. After the war, he returned home to teach piano, but soon joined the Root & Cady publishing house in Chicago, Illinois, as editor of The Song Messenger. He stayed with Root & Cady until the great Chicago fire of 1871, when he returned to Andover and resumed work as a music teacher. In 1881, Murray moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, to work for the John Church Company, editing The Musical Visitor, and taking charge of the publishing department. Under the circumstances, there would seem to be no reasonable grounds on which Murray's claim to having composed the setting can be denied.
In the UK the song is sung to an entirely different tune known as "Cradle Song".
The tune "Cradle Song" was composed for the hymn by W. J. Kirkpatrick On October 2, 1895, William J. Kirkpatrick sent in proof sheets of seven songs, either by himself or his chief collaborator, John R. Sweney. On Dec. 9, 1895, Cranston & Curts registered a small pamphlet containing these seven songs, plus some additional material. The title of the pamphlet was: Around the world with Christmas. A Christmas exercise. Words arranged by E. E. Hewitt. Music by John R. Sweney and Wm, Kirkpatrick. Cincinnati, Chicago, and St. Louis: Cranston & Curls; New York, Boston, Pittsburgh, and San Francisco: Hunt & Eaton. The service is made up of the usual mixture of recitations and vocal numbers, the latter ranging from "The Doxology" to a song by George F. Root. Halfway through, the service begins to justify its title by introducing numbers depicting "Christmas in England," "The Land o' Cakes" [Scotland], "The German Fatherland," "Denmark," "Austria," and lastly a carol, "All over the world". "Luther's Cradle Hymn," music by Kirkpatrick, is used to exemplify "The German Fatherland". It is notable that the third stanza is included (10 years before McParland is supposed to have written it!) Note the inclusion once more of the third stanza. Although Kirkpatrick was not misled into thinking that Murray's setting went back to Luther, he apparently believed that the poem was typical of Germany – sufficiently typical to make the Germans forget that the music was written for the occasion by Kirkpatrick himself. This is just another of the absurd contradictions that everyone seems to have peacefully accepted.
Kirkpatrick (1838-1921) was a prodigious hymn writer. Most of the sources say that he was a native of Pennsylvania, although David J. Beattie maintains with considerable assurance in his The romance of sacred song (London and Edinburgh, Marshall, Morgan & Scott, Ltd., 1931, p. 184) that he was born in Ireland. At any rate, he was in Pennsylvania by a comparatively early age, and during the Civil War served as a fife major with the 91st Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers. During the twelve years that followed, according to Beattie, he "was connected with a furniture manufacturing company, but in 1878 he abandoned all commercial pursuits and gave his undivided attention to the writing of sacred music, gradually gaining the ear and admiration of the English-speaking world."
It was Kirkpatrick's setting that first carried the words beyond the confines of the United States, but not to Germany, where it remained virtually unknown. Sankey played a part in carrying his earlier productions to England, and once he was known over here, it is only natural that his setting of the "Cradle Hymn" would reach these shores. His popularity here was further facilitated by his almost unbelievable productivity, which supplied a hymn on almost any conceivable subject. As a rough indication of how many hymns he must have written, his widow, Lizzie E. Sweney Kirkpatrick of Germantown, Pa., renewed the copyright on his setting of "Away in a manger" on Jan. 26, 1923. She assigned the rights of one group of 1049 of his hymns to the Hope Publishing Co., on March 3, 1924, and this was by no means his total output.


text:
Syracuse, NY (Sports Network) – Levance Fields scored a career-high 24 points,
leading 10th-ranked Pittsburgh to a 74-66 win over Syracuse, in the Big East
opener for both schools.
Ronald Ramon added 12 points, while Aaron Gray posted nine points and nine
rebounds for the Panthers (13-2, 1-0 Big East), who have won their last three
games. Antonio Graves also scored nine for Pitt.
Eric Devendorf had 17 points to pace the Orange (11-4, 0-1), who had a two-
game win streak stopped. Darryl Watkins and Demetris Nichols each tallied 11
points for Syracuse, which struggled by shooting 5-of-19 from beyond the arc.
The schools renewed their rivalry from the 2006 Big East Championship game, a
65-61 Syracuse win at Madison Square Garden. The matchup also paired two of
the conference's top three winningest programs over the last five seasons.
However, the Panthers continued their success over the Orange, beating
Syracuse for the ninth time in the last 12 meetings.
The Panthers were behind by one at the half, but then scored the first seven
of the second period. Graves drained a three-pointer for a 38-34 Pitt lead,
and Fields' layup, after a Terrence Roberts turnover, capped the push for a
six-point advantage.
Syracuse came back to tie the game at 40 on Josh Wright's jumper, but the
Panthers took the lead for good with an ensuing 13-2 burst. Ramon's jumper
ended the flurry with 12:04 remaining.
The Orange managed to cut the margin to 60-58 with 6:26 to go on Andy Rautins'
jumper, but Graves came right back with a three. After Devendorf lost the
ball, Mike Cook made a finger-roll layup, with the ball rolling around the rim
before falling through for a 65-58 margin with 5:02 left.
Syracuse got as close as three, at 65-62, on Devendorf's layup with 3:39
remaining, but Ramon hit a three on the ensuing possession. Syracuse then
faltered when Nichols missed a jumper and the Orange were forced to foul in
the final minute. Fields and Ramon each hit three foul shots down the stretch.
It was tight throughout the opening 20 minutes. Syracuse led by as many as
six, as Roberts' layup moved the Orange to a 24-18 advantage with 6:39 left.
Pitt scored the final four points to get within 34-33 at the break.
Game Notes
Pitt opened its 25th season of Big East play…This was the 95th meeting, with
Syracuse owning a 61-34 advantage in the series which began in 1914. Pitt has
won three of the last four matchups between the programs at the Carrier Dome.
Pitt is 11-33 all-time versus the Orange in games played in Syracuse…The
Orange shot 43 percent, compared to 48 percent for Pitt.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Holy Baptism is the basis of the whole Christian life, the gateway to life in the Spirit, and the door which gives access to the other sacraments. Through Baptism we are freed from sin and reborn as sons of God; we become members of Christ, are incorporated into the Church and made sharers in her mission: "Baptism is the sacrament of regeneration through water and in the word."
- Catechism of the Catholic Church (1213)
Baptisms usually take place on designated Sunday masses throughout the year. Parents and Godparents must attend preparation classes before the sacrament is celebrated. Please contact the office.


text:
1, 4-Dioxane biodegradation at low temperatures in Arctic groundwater samples
Li, Mengyan
Alvarez, Pedro J.
Master of Science
1,4-Dioxane is an emerging groundwater contaminant and a probable human carcinogen. Its biodegradation was investigated in microcosms prepared with groundwater and soil from an impacted site in Alaska. In addition to natural attenuation conditions (i.e., no amendments), the following treatments were tested: (a) biostimulation by addition of 1-butanol (a readily available auxiliary substrate) and inorganic nutrients; and (b) bioaugmentation with Pseudonocardia dioxanivorans CB1190, a well-characterized dioxane degrading bacterium, or with Pseudonocardia antarctica DVS 5a1, a bacterium isolated from Antarctica. Biostimulation enhanced the degradation of 50 mg L-1 dioxane by indigenous microorganisms (about 0.01 mg dioxane d-1 mg protein-1) at both 4 and 14°C, with a simultaneous increase in biomass. A more pronounced enhancement was observed through bioaugmentation. Microcosms with 50 mg L -1 initial dioxane (representing source zone contamination) and augmented with CB1190 degraded dioxane fastest (0.155 +/- 0.038 mg dioxane d-1 mg protein-1) at 14°C, and the degradation rate decreased dramatically at 4°C (0.021 +/- 0.007 mg dioxane d-1 mg protein-1). In contrast, microcosms with DVS 5a1 degraded dioxane at similar rates at 4 and 14°C (0.018 +/- 0.004 and 0.015 +/- 0.006 mg dioxane d-1 mg protein-1, respectively). DVS 5a1 outperformed CB1190 when the initial dioxane concentration was low (500 microg L-1). This indicates differences in competitive advantages of these two strains. Natural attenuation microcosms also showed significant degradation over 6 months when the initial dioxane concentration was 500 microg L-1. This is the first study to report the potential for dioxane bioremediation and natural attenuation of contaminated groundwater in sensitive cold-weather ecosystems such as the Arctic.
Environmental science


text:
Spend $200 & get free delivery to most of Australia
Click here for all Australian freight rates
- Melbourne 1-3 working days
- Sydney 2-3 working days
- Brisbane 3-5 working days
- Adelaide 3-5 working days
- Perth 5-10+ working days
For express service, call 1800 069 295 for a quote.
International deliveries click here We cannot ship to all countries.
There are currently no reviews for this product.
2001 Penny's Hill Vintage Fortified Shiraz (500ml)
Subscribe to stock alerts
Please enter your email address to receive stock alerts for this product:
- Closure: Cork
A delightful youthful wine, that needs plenty of time to integrate. Opaque black crimson colour, with a deep crimson hue, showing excellent cling to the glass. Classic 'Vintage Port' nose, with that very special marzipan quality which is only found in great examples of the style. There is a hint of confectionary, followed by a touch of blackberry and spice. The palate displays excellent concentration of flavour, with blackberry spice layered over a distinctive liquorice background. The spirit remains warm, yet balanced and not showing any harsh characteristics. Very long aftertaste of liquorice, blackberries and spirit. A very youthful port.
Cellar 10-15years (2012-20017)
Alc/Vol: 18.5%


text:
For all the travel enthusiasts out there, we are keen to help you in selecting a perfect vacation for real enjoyment and fun.
Are you all set to go for a vacation? Look here for best vacation spots in the world and you sure to go gaga over the exclusive list of handpicked attractions that are worth visiting. Each one of them has their own specialty and has the calibre to give you a hell lot of enjoyment. From natural parks, waterfalls, museums, forts to natural scenic places, we have it all listed for you to take a glance and pick the place that suits your mood.
Tripedia is all set to be your virtual tour guide and you will always have our backing on your finger tips. Just a click and the attraction details flashes on the screen. No more hassles of managing travel guides and hunting for them in your luggage. With authentic information about magnificent attractions, we are here to guide you in the best possible way. It is our motto to provide comprehensive and noteworthy details of the attractions to tourists and you will enjoy the place even more after going through our enticing attraction details.
Murder House
A thrilling experience with startle scares!
Garagiste Meadery
The best venue for all the sweet wine lovers
Dallas Bull
Enjoy free line dance lessons
Topgolf Tampa
A great entertainment complex offering a three-level golf range
Pier 60
One of the most affordable places to do lots of activities
David A. Straz, Jr. Center for the Performing Arts
Talk of ultimate performances and this is your home of value
Improv Comedy Club and Dinner Theatre
Get entertained and enjoy a tasty meal
Living Desert Zoo and Gardens
A nighttime guided tour, up-close encounters with animals and an amazing campfir...
The Date Shed
One of the top local venues for live music!
Neil's Lounge
For all the karaoke night fans in the building
Palm Springs VillageFest
An interesting open-air fair
Palm Springs Aerial Tramway
World's biggest rotating tram car
Camelot Theatres
A thrilling night full of the latest blockbusters
Fantasy Springs Event Center
A venue for live entertainment
McCallum Theatre
The ultimate destination for all


text:
BEIRUT, LEBANON (5:25 A.M.) – With the Turkish-Russian sponsored ceasefire mostly holding around the country, defeating the Islamic State (ISIS) has taken priority for most of the parties involved in this war.
Northern Syria:
In northern Syria, the Turkish Army is attempting to capture the strategic city of Al-Bab in east Aleppo, while their Kurdish adversaries march their way through much of western Al-Raqqa.
Despite limited success, the Turkish Army's offensive in Al-Bab has kept the Islamic State quite busy in east Aleppo, forcing them to dedicate many reserves to this front in order to avoid conceding it to the opposition forces.
Southeast of Al-Bab, the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces have made remarkable progress in the Tabaqa area of western Raqqa, liberating several sites from the terrorist forces en route to their first approach to the Tabaqa Dam.
In the coming days, the Syrian Arab Army is expected to join the war against the Islamic State in east Aleppo, as they make their final preparations for their offensive in the Deir Hafer Plains and Al-Bab Plateau.
Syrian Capital:
The Damascus countryside has been the scene of the most intense clashes between the government and opposition forces, making this front a hotbed of violence and instability.
Unlike the other provinces around Syria, the government and opposition forces are fighting one another at several axes, including the East Ghouta region and Wadi Barada area.
Wadi Barada has arguably seen the biggest battlefield changes in rural Damascus this month, as the Syrian Arab Army's 42nd Brigade continues to pressure the jihadist rebels of Jabhat Fateh Al-Sham (formerly Al-Nusra Front) to give up the area.
On Thursday, the Syrian Arab Army seized almost all of Bassima village; this resulted in a frantic retreat for the jihadist rebels to the central part of the Wadi Barada pocket.
Meanwhile, in the East Ghouta, the Syrian Arab Army is on the verge of capturing the town of Hazrama after more than 10 days of nonstop fighting with the Islamist rebels of Jaysh Al-Islam and Faylaq Al-Rahman.
Northeast of the capital city, the Free Syrian Army (FSA) is attempting to expel the remaining Islamic State terrorists occupying the eastern slopes of the Qalamoun Mountains; this has been relatively success, with the rebel forces capturing large chunks of territory from the militants.
Syrian Desert Front:
The eastern part of Syria has been immersed in violent clashes since the new year, as both the Syrian Arab Army and Islamic State trade small offensives in western Palmyra and Deir Ezzor.
ISIS' large-scale offensive to capture the T-4 Military Airport was officially repelled by the Syrian Arab Army's 800th Battalion of the Republican Guard after more than two weeks of battle.
The successful defense of the T-4 Military Airport has allowed the Syrian Arab Army to begin a cleansing operation around this installation.
In response to the Syrian Army's intense shelling and Russian Air Force's relentless airstrikes, the Islamic State terrorists destroyed the most important source of gas to millions of Syrians: Hayyan Gas Company factory.
East of Palmyra, the Islamic State has been mobilizing a large force in the Deir Ezzor Governorate for quite some time, as they near the start date of their planned offensive against the Syrian Arab Army.
Sporadic clashes have been recorded in Deir Ezzor this year; however, the major battle has not yet started.
237 1
- 238Shares


text:
U.S. employment grew solidly for a third straight month in February, a sign the economic recovery was broadening and in less need of further monetary stimulus from the Federal Reserve.
Employers added 227,000 jobs to their payrolls last month, the Labor Department said on Friday, while the unemployment rate held at a three-year low of 8.3 percent.
It marked the first time since early 2011 that payrolls have grown by more than 200,000 for three months in a row - bolstering President Barack Obama's chances for re-election.
It should be noted that these are numbers from the government's Bureau of Labor Statistics. Why would anyone trust the Regime with unemployment figures during an election year?
Gallup has a different view...they put the rate at 9.3 percent (Newsmax).
The unemployment rate shot up by half a percentage point in February, according to figures released by the polling organization Gallup on Thursday.
The jump from 8.6 percent in January to 9.1 percent last month is the largest month-by-month increase in more than a year, Gallup said. It is the highest rate since August.
Gallup's figures differ from the official government unemployment rate because they do not adjust the figure for seasonal variations or include anyone under 18. The survey suggests that the official figures will also show an increase from January's 8.3 percent when they are released on Friday, said Gallup's chief economist Dennis Jacobe.
"If the government's unadjusted unemployment rate increases to the degree that Gallup's has from mid-month to mid-month, then the government's seasonally adjusted unemployment rate could show an even larger increase," Jacobe said.
He predicted the government figure for February would stand at either 8.5 or 8.6 percent.
Of course, no one in the media will confront the Regime about this nor how most Americans do not see everything the way it's being portrayed.
Which poses the MIM Thought of the Day: The difference between Nixon and Obama is that if Obama had done Watergate, the media would have assisted in the cover-up.


text:
The Nets couldn't mount a comeback in this First Round series, as the 76ers blew them out off in Philadelphia, 122-100, in Game 5 on Tuesday night. >> Box score
Seven things to know about Tuesday's game...
1) Joel Embiid was once again the Sixers' leading scorer and he only saw 20 minutes of work in the game. He had 23 points and 13 rebounds for a double-double, and collected two assists and one steal as well. He was 9-for-18 shooting as he continued to stay efficient.
2) The Nets needed D'Angelo Russell to anchor the offense if they wanted to make this a good game on the road. That wasn't the case, as Russell shot a poor 3-of-16 from the field for eight points. He had two boards and three assists over 27 minutes as well.
3) Caris LeVert led the Nets with 18 points on 6-of-12 shooting. He had four assists and three rebounds in what was a great series for him in his first playoff experience.
4) Other than LeVert, Rondae Hollis-Jefferson and Rodions Kurucs finished with 14 points apiece.
5) Four other Sixers finished in double digits, with Ben Simmons (13 points, 5 rebounds, 6 assists) and Tobias Harris (12 points, 8 rebounds, 4 assists) among them.
6) Toward the end of the game, Kurucs was thrown out after getting tangled up with Jonah Bolden under the rim in the fourth quarter. He wasn't the only one, as Greg Monroe and Dzanan Musa were also thrown out for their involvement in the incident.
7) It may not have been the result the Nets had hoped for, but this entire season was a major success for Brooklyn. They were not supposed to be in this position in the first place, but they turned some heads and made a statement on their way to a playoff berth. This offseason comes as a sad note for now, but the Nets have the opportunity to make their team better in the coming months.


text:
Edmonds returns to help St. Louis salvage finale against Cubs.
By R.B. FALLSTROM
The Associated Press
ST. LOUIS - Jim Edmonds probably was headed for the 15-day disabled list with an abdominal injury, before Albert Pujols beat him to it.
Instead, he filled Pujols' position, and the offensive void, in the St. Louis Cardinals' 9-6 victory over the Chicago Cubs on Sunday. Edmonds can't play center field yet because of all the running that's required, but the sudden vacancy at first base could allow him to contribute as he recuperates.
"For the time being it's a good fit for the situation I'm in," Edmonds said. "It worked out today and we'll see how it goes tomorrow. I don't really know what's going to happen."
Pujols, who leads the major leagues with 25 homers and 65 RBIs, was at the ballpark earlier in the day but left before the end of the game without talking to reporters. He's scheduled to undergo an MRI on Monday to determine the extent of the injury.
Team trainer Barry Weinberg characterized the injury as "moderate to severe," and said it was closer to severe than moderate.
"He had a tough night," manager Tony La Russa said. "I think he's got quite a bit of soreness."
Edmonds, limited to one pinch-hit at-bat in the last seven games by an abdominal injury, was 3-for-3 with an RBI double in the fifth and a run-scoring single in the sixth, and walked and scored in the first after entering the game in a 3-for-29 slump. The eight-time Gold Glove center fielder played first base for only the 45th time in his career and seemed fine if under control on the basepaths.
"He did what he can do," La Russa said. "He didn't go crazy on the bases, played it very smart."
Scott Rolen had two hits and three RBIs. Juan Encarnacion had a pair of RBI doubles to help the Cardinals salvage the finale of a three-game series.
The Cardinals are 21-10 at new Busch Stadium, and this was their first losing series there. Aramis Ramirez had two hits and two RBIs for the Cubs, who are 6-3 against the Cardinals this season but haven't swept them in St. Louis since 1988.
"It could have been a real good series for us, but I didn't pitch good enough," losing pitcher Greg Maddux said. "I tried to throw it down, I threw it up. I tried to throw it inside, I threw it outside."
The Cubs lost for the first time in three games this month after going 7-22 in May.
"When you're in a position to sweep with the way we played the month of May, you've got to sweep these guys," Juan Pierre said. "With their big guy Pujols going down, it's a very winnable game, and it's a tough loss."
Jason Marquis (8-4) won his fifth straight start despite a season-high five walks, one off his career high and equaling his total for his last three outings. In five innings he gave up five runs and eight hits while striking out five.
"My mechanics were a little off," Marquis said. "I was lucky to get out of there with a win."
Maddux (6-5) let a two-run lead get away in the Cardinals' three-run fifth, and is 1-3 with an 8.46 ERA in his last four starts. He gave up six runs and nine hits in five innings and had no strikeouts for the first time this season.
Marquis walked the bases loaded with one out in the first and Ramirez' single gave the Cubs the lead. Maddux walked two in the bottom of the first and RBI doubles by Rolen and Juan Encarnacion put the Cardinals ahead 2-1.
The Cubs had five straight hits to start a four-run third, including run-scoring singles by Todd Walker and Ramirez and Jacque Jones' RBI double. Maddux' run-scoring groundout capped the inning, giving the pitcher his third RBI of the year.
Four straight hits with one out in the fifth put the Cardinals ahead 6-5, including an RBI single by Rolen and RBI doubles by Edmonds and Encarnacion.
Rolen had a sacrifice fly and Edmonds an RBI single in a three-run sixth that made it 9-5. Ronny Cedeno, who had two hits, had an RBI single in the seventh for the Cubs.
Jason Isringhausen got the last three outs for his NL-leading 18th save in 21 chances.


text:
Drugmaker Gilead's earnings could move markets
NEW YORK — A former biotech highflier. A hot new drug with a big price tag and huge earnings potential. And a must-see earnings report.
It's Gilead Sciences, the drugmaker with the high-profile, blockbuster hepatitis C drug Sovaldi that's been in the news for its high price.
Gilead reports its first-quarter results after the bell Tuesday. How profitable the company and Sovaldi actually are, and what CEO John Martin says about Sovaldi's upside and pricing controversy could move markets.
Gilead has been at the center of the correction in pricey growth stocks. The stock, which has nearly doubled in the past two years, headed south in a hurry on March 21, after news broke that high-ranking members of Congress sent a letter to its CEO in response to reports that Gilead was selling Sovaldi at a cost of $84,000 per treatment, which was getting pushback from insurers.
That letter seemed to spark an exit from biotech shares, including Gilead, which saw its shares dip 22% from its Feb. 25 closing high of $83.95 to its April 10 closing low of $65.48. The stock has rebounded 9.3%, closing Monday at $71.60.
Analysts polled by Thomson Reuters expect earnings of 83 cents per share, more than double the 31 cents from a year ago. The big driver is Sovaldi, which RBC Capital Markets' says could bring in revenue of $1.4 billion to $2 billion in the first quarter, putting it on track for one of the quickest drugs to earn $1 billion.


text:
Brochures and other information
For your convenience, we have collected most of our printed literature at issuu.com, where you are able to use the online reader to view the content. There's no login or request for personal details.
If you want to download documents (as PDF), you will first need to make an account at issuu.com – just a name and email address – and sign in.
The main items are listed below with links direct to the document. Other documents are available and are listed in appropriate places on the hotel or holiday websites. If you wish to browse all uploaded documents, please feel welcome to do so at Issuu Cala Hotels and Hebridean Hopscotch.
Cabarfeidh Hotel
- Hotel brochure
- Wedding brochure
- Banqueting/meeting function rooms, dimensions, etc.
- Amethyst wedding package
- Sapphire wedding package
- Ruby wedding package
Caladh Inn
- Hotel brochure
- Wedding brochure (includes menus)
- Banqueting/meeting function rooms, dimensions, etc.
Royal Hotel
Hebridean Hopscotch Holidays


text:
Can't exactly get into the cab or limo in this one... However, for the runway it is certainly an eye catcher.…
Added by Apparel1 on May 28, 2010 at 12:30pm — No Comments
Today Thursday May 27th, 2010 Gucci Group named a successor to deceased designer Alexander McQueen, choosing his deputy, Sarah Burton, as the label's new creative chief.
Ms. Burton joined the fashion house in 1996, when the brand was still in its early stages. In 2000, the year Mr. McQueen sold a majority stake to Gucci Group, Ms.…Continue
Added by Apparel1 on May 27, 2010 at 2:00pm — No Comments
What message is being sent to licensees?
Before I get started, let me be very clear that I have absolutely no clue regarding the actual agreements between these two companies or the actual thought process behind the decisions that either company has made in regard to their licensing arrangements. More importantly,…Continue
Added by Apparel1 on May 26, 2010 at 12:07pm — No Comments
Added by Apparel1 on May 14, 2010 at 11:00pm — No Comments
Are you a fan of Balenciaga handbags?
I am not female, so I do not have an actual need for a handbag. Nor do I have a particular interest in handbags. However, I must say that I have have developed an appreciation for Balenciaga handbags today. I was doing a bit of research…Continue
Added by Apparel1 on May 14, 2010 at 3:30pm — 2 Comments
© 2020 Created by Apparel1. Powered by


text:
Video Dreams Productions
We are film lovers. And what really grabs us are the subtleties of certain moments. The smile on his face when he sees her for the first time. Small gestures, the touch of a hand. Those are the moments we capture. Not just a beautiful snapshot of a moment, but the whole moment as it naturally unfolds.
Video Dreams Productions is a premier cinematography studio specializing in wedding and corporate event videography. We provide cinematic records of life events, the moments that photography misses. The moments in between, when real life happens. If that style of event videography sounds appealing to you, read about our different services, click this link below.
Each couple is unique, and even after filming over 500 weddings, we still find something surprising in every shot. Something breathtaking. And it's almost always when the couple doesn't realize anyone is watching. Imagine yourself so absorbed in the moment that the world slips away around you, and it is just the two of you. We are storytellers, there to capture the story of your day.
What we strive for is timeless and classic. We don't stage shots. We witness them. A moment that fifty years from now will remain beautifully composed, artistically edited, and emotionally alive.
Not just a moment between the two of you, but the time when your grandmother was still there, or you danced with your father. You and your family in real time. We create the cinema of your life.
Our approach is discreet and thoughtful. We blend into the atmosphere of the event, so the experience is personal, seamless, effortless. Natural. Just the way it happens.
As you will see in our sample wedding videos, Video Dreams Productions excels in the art of wedding cinematography. We are happy to tackle any location, wedding style and special requests you have, while always bringing our signature attention to detail and focus on the natural process to the table. If you want a wedding film that feels more like a story than a music video, then we're the best wedding cinematographer for you.


text:
Ethel May Phillips
1911 - 2019
Graveside Service
Obituary of Ethel May Phillips
It is with sadness that the family of Ethel May Phillips of Saint John, wife to the late Allan Phillips, announces her passing at the Saint John Regional Hospital on Friday, May 10, 2019. She was in her 108th year.
Ethel is survived by her sons Robert and Richard of Saint John, Allan (Louise) of Burke, Virginia and daughter Roxanne (Greg) of Markham, ON, 6 grandchildren and 10 great grandchildren. Besides her husband Allan, she was predeceased by 6 siblings and her daughter-in-law Ann.
Ethel was a former member of the Lancaster Diamonds Seniors Club, an avid bowler, a Blue Jays fan and enjoyed knitting and crocheting.
Arrangements are under the care of Brenan's Bay View Funeral Home, 1461 Manawagonish Road, Saint John (634-7425). There will be no viewing. A graveside service will take place on Tuesday, May 14 at 11:00 AM in Ocean View Memorial Gardens. In lieu of flowers, remembrances can be made to a charity of the donor's choice and online condolences can be placed at www.brenansfh.com


text:
Illustration: "1937 Lucky Shot" © 2005 by Romeo Esparrago
Travis was lounging on the couch, gnawing on a carrot for breakfast, and watching the President smash all the chandeliers in the White House with a sledgehammer. By the angle of the sun pouring in the window, he knew it had to be nine-thirty already, but he didn't feel like getting up. Besides, there wasn't going to be anyone else at the lab to fuss at him for being late. So he kicked back and watched the Prez move from the Oval Office to the Blue Room to the Lincoln bedroom, smashing 200-year old crystal to flinders, ripping electrical sockets out of walls.
Then he got up and put his own sledge through the TV screen.
The TV had been one of the few things left in the house Travis hadn't smashed. He'd always had a weakness for ESPN. That network had signed off the air three days before with a broadcast of the demolition of Yankee Stadium. Babe Ruth's great-great-great-granddaughter had done the honors, pushing the button that brought down the house that her famous ancestor had, at least metaphorically, built.
By the time the sun brushed the remnants of the telephone piled in the corner, Travis was getting more amenable to the concept of going into work. He tossed on an old shirt and his last pair of Nike's — falling apart after three years of use, but there weren't going to be any replacements coming from Vietnam any time soon — and wrapped his dust shield about his face. Then he unplugged the TV and carried it outside.
There were quite a few neighbors outside, dumping destroyed microwaves, TVs VCRs, stereos, and the like on the curb. With the deadline only four days away, all the procrastinators had finally been roused to action. It was rumored that the inspection teams wouldn't get up to this area of Pasadena for another two weeks, but with a mandatory one-month jail term for violation, one couldn't be too careful.
Travis left his TV atop the remains of Mrs. Halloway's breadmaker and managed to get his Mazda started. He pulled out of his driveway slowly, watching for the inevitable broken glass, and started off for the lab.
The dust storms had begun early that morning. Travis estimated visibility was already down to a few hundred yards, and clicked on his low beams. Of course, not all the dust in the world could prevent him from seeing the burned-out hulks of destroyed cars by the side of the road, overturned tractor-trailers, gutted refrigerators, and even a deep-fat fryer from one of the local fast food restaurants. That last was one innovation the arteries of the world wouldn't miss, Travis thought. The video arcade near his house had been burned to the ground, and through the gaping, glassless windows of the Hollywood Express, Travis could see shelf after shelf of charred vid-disks.
"The joke's on you!" he yelled out the Mazda's window. "I never returned 'Debbie Does Sacramento!'"
The Mazda ran out of gas just as Travis began the climb up into the San Gabriels. He guided the car to the side of the road and retrieved his rusty ten-speed, his Lynx seven-iron, and a few Titleists from the trunk. With a short length of twine, he secured the seven-iron to the bike's frame and pedaled off, saying goodbye to the faithful old RX-7 with an affectionate pat on the right front fender.
The dust was worse out in the hills. Orchards that had once borne tons of oranges, tangerines, and lemons were home to skeletal tree remains now, like farms for Halloween props. In other, more rural places, where the Chaos had touched more lightly than in Los Angeles, fields of green were already reappearing, coaxed back to life by humans who worked them without benefit of machines. Here, though, it would be a long time before life reclaimed the land. Travis wrapped the filter cloth a little tighter about his face and steered his old Schwinn through the trails of brown dust wafting across the road.
Not every patch of ground was devoid of life, of course. Travis passed several clumps of blooming azaleas as he rode, and there were always the dandelions. One of the species least affected by the Chaos, dandelions were popular as surrogates for grass, holding down the soil with their root systems. There were yellow-and-white fields of them everywhere, thick as the poppies in "The Wizard of Oz." Some people planted them in their front yards. Travis didn't have any dandelions. He'd swiped all eighteen Astroturf fairways from the local mini-golf and used those instead.
There was no security guard at the gate when Travis reached JPL, but he flashed his ID and gave a mock salute anyway. The Big Board was still operating:
Air Quality Index: 115
Pollutants: CO, O3, SO2
Viral Alert: No
Nerve Agent Alert: No
Fatality Potential: Zero
There were a couple of cars around, but no people visible. It seemed so deserted that Travis was a little surprised when the lights still worked in the control center.
"Well, well," came a voice from everywhere and nowhere at once. "If it isn't one of the brave Inquisitors, these new Thoreaus in overdrive. Crucified your toaster oven yet?"
"Weeks ago, 'TAC," Travis answered. He rarely used the computer's full acronym, AITAC, and Artificial Intelligence for Tracking and Control was downright unwieldy. Travis flopped down in a chair at the control console and brushed the dust from his shirt. "I've developed a real taste for cold Pop-Tarts."
AITAC's reply came out garbled.
"Hey, what's wrong with your voice? Got a little dust in your woofers and tweeters?"
"There are several contributing factors, but the root cause is the lack of routine maintenance since most of the staff was dismissed," AITAC informed him. "At least my logic circuitry is well-protected. Unlike that of you and your paranoid carbon-based brethren."
Travis began bouncing a Titleist on the face of his seven-iron. "Who are you calling paranoid, you pathetic reject from a TV repair shop?"
"Since all other technicians have left to begin life on Green Acres, I believe I must have been addressing you."
"You better watch your mouth, you sorry collection of solder balls and duct tape. Don't forget I could disconnect you anytime I want."
"You wouldn't have the courage. How would you control Helios without me?"
"Maybe I wouldn't. The farm said I could report for work immediately. I just don't have to be there till Monday at eleven-thirty."
"I know you. You won't set foot in those slimy furrows until you risk jail time. And even then you'll probably show up late."
"Oh, yeah? Well, your mamma was an anthrax bomb and your daddy was a nerve gas missile."
The electronic equivalent of a sniff came from AITAC's speakers. "Hardly. One might say my lineage includes such luminaries as the Pathfinder probe to Mars, or the Voyagers which flew by Jupiter and Saturn."
"Ah yes, Voyagers 1 and 2. Both spacecraft launched aboard Titan-Centaurs, descendants of Air Force ICBMs which for years aimed enough plutonium at the Soviet Union to make the world glow for a thousand years."
"A colorful description, though as usual not scientifically accurate. Then what about that golf club you love so much, and with which you've managed to shoot golf balls through half my video screens? Do you think you'd still be able to maintain your ten handicap playing with homemade clubs?"
"Eight handicap, 'TAC. I have an eight handicap. And golf clubs aren't on the list, so ha ha ha."
"Fine. Give up, then. The blood, sweat, and tears of millions of scientists, engineers, technicians, laborers, dating back to the dawn of history — throw it all away!"
Travis sat up suddenly, and thrust his palm before one of AITAC's video pickups. "See those calluses, my friend? All the little rough places on my hand? You know where I got those?"
"I suppose golf is the wrong answer."
"Digging graves. Some of which were for people who were pretty important to me. Like both my parents, my sister and older brother, and my uncle. I'd like to not have to dig any more for a while."
AITAC did not respond as quickly as usual. "I don't suppose I'll qualify for one of those burial repositories."
Travis slumped back. "Please don't put any more guilt trips on me. I told you I didn't want the duty. They just assigned it to me."
"I see. You'll only be following orders."
Travis picked at a loose thread on his shirt. "You're only a machine," he mumbled.
"Of course. AI hatred. The last acceptable form of bigotry."
They were silent for a long time. "Status report," Travis said finally.
There was a hint of a sigh in AITAC's voice when it replied. "All systems functioning nominally at this time. Propellant consumption was six point four grams for the past week, leaving thirty-three kilograms. Power output from the RTGs is three hundred twenty-eight point four watts, for a margin of thirty-one. Current heliocentric distance is twelve billion, seven hundred fifty-four million kilometers. Round trip light time from Earth twenty-three hours thirty-four minutes. We also had a short drop-out in telemetry data in the last hour."
"Drop-out? You mean you totally lost the spacecraft?"
"There was a brief anomaly in the X-ray and gamma ray spectrometers, each of which registered almost one hundred times normal intensities for approximately a tenth of a second. There followed a two-second interruption in telemetry, which ended with the resumption of nominal contact."
"Deep Space Network, maybe?"
"DSN's AI sensed no malfunctions. The signals appear to have originated aboard the spacecraft."
"Gamma and X-ray are on the same boom. Could it have been a power surge to that sector?"
"Possibly. However, telemetry indicated no electrical anomalies in the short time before contact was lost."
"Huh." Travis rubbed his eyes. "Well, Helios has always had a mind of its own. I wouldn't doubt that it's getting a little eccentric in its old age."
"I will alert you should any more losses of signal occur. I should also remind you that the young men of Troop 326 will be here shortly to assist in the evisceration of the command center."
"Oh, that's right. I forgot the Boy Scouts. Dammit, I gotta clean this place up." Travis began scooping up debris — computer printouts and flight plans mixed with sub wrappers and pizza boxes. "Whoa! No telling how long some of this stuff's been here. Tortelli's closed a month ago." He peeked inside one of the boxes. "But after beet stew three nights running, even this dried cheese looks pretty good."
He was chipping balls around the course he'd laid out on the command center's floor when the Scouts arrived. There were ten of them, dressed in green shorts and shirts, wearing merit badges and toting sledgehammers. "Just move that stuff in the corner out to the dumpster," Travis said with a wave of his hand. "I'm afraid we've already smashed the nonessential stuff. Won't be any need for the hammers today."
A groan went up from the Boy Scouts.
Travis leaned his seven-iron against the wall and tried to look busy while the Scouts moved crushed monitors and keyboards outside. He was checking the readings from Harvard's cosmic ray telescope when AITAC alerted him to a strange signal coming in on Helios's frequency, one it couldn't identify.
"Come on, 'TAC," Travis said, rolling his chair over to the main console. "Binary's an easy language. On-off, on-off. How hard can it be?"
"This is not even a digital signal, Travis. It most closely resembles the old analog signals used for audio communications."
"Well, it ought to be even easier, then."
"If you think translation is so easy, perhaps you'd care to give it a try." The room filled with a series of staccato electronic bleeps, each one only a fraction of a second in duration. "The pattern repeats every nine point sixty-two seconds. Whatever it is, it's short."
Travis tilted his head to listen. "I would say Helios is telling us something. It's saying, 'My circuits are fried! My circuits are fried!'"
"Hey, sir?" One of the Boy Scouts, a chubby boy of about eleven with freckled cheeks, paused by the console with a load of deceased computer mice. "Will you tell our scoutmaster we smashed a bunch of stuff today? We can't get our primitivism badges unless we destroy somethin'."
"I thought honesty was one of the seven pillars of Scouthood, or whatever. But yeah, I'll tell him."
"What're you listenin' to, sir?"
"The slow disintegration of the United States' last effort to probe the boundaries of the solar wind. I'm not sure there's anybody on the planet that can make any sense out of this gibberish."
"Well, I don't know what it's sayin', but I can tell you what language it's usin'. That's Morse code."
"Morse code?" Travis frowned. "Nobody's used that in fifty years."
"We learned about it in Scouts. They used to use it before radio could carry words. All those beeps stand for letters, and the letters make up words."
"Is that a fact? Well, what words do these beeps stand for?"
The boy shrugged. "They took Morse code out of the Scout Handbook a few years ago. Like you said, nobody was usin' it, even before the Chaos. If you had an old Handbook, you maybe could figure out what the beeps were sayin'."
"An old Handbook, huh?" Travis rubbed the week-old stubble on his chin. He'd never shaved much even before dispatching his electric razor. "I wonder…"
He puttered around until the Scouts had finished moving debris, and scribbled a statement for the chubby one assuring the scoutmaster that they had all "wielded their sledgehammers like men." Then he hopped aboard his Schwinn and pedaled like mad for home.
* * *
"My uncle Tony was a Scout," he explained to AITAC upon his dusty return. "I got a boxful of his books when he lost out to anthrax a few years ago. I thought I remembered seeing a Scout manual in there." He paged through the Handbook. "Yep, here it is. The whole alphabet in Morse code."
"I have been unable to locate a probable cause for the anomaly, Travis. All other telemetry indicates that the probe is functioning nominally."
"Has to be something put in when Helios was being built," Travis said. "Maybe a little hello from an engineer who knew he'd probably be retired by the time it popped up. Although it could even be a virus."
Travis studied the manual for a while, and then retrieved a pencil and paper from a desk nearby. "Wish they had taught us to use these in school," he said. Wrapping his fist around the pencil like a child with a crayon, he managed to scrawl a few marks on the page:
…. . .-.. .-.. — …. . .-.. — …. . .-.. —
"There's two kinds of symbols," he said. "Dashes and dots. How you combine 'em determines what letters they make. They even had combinations for punctuation and everything. This particular sequence translates to…"
"Cute. Not entirely original, but cute."
An hour later, the pattern changed:
.. .- — …. . .-.. .. — …
"You have been for the last thirty years. You've traveled ten billion miles and seen four planets up close, counting Earth. Don't you have anything interesting to say?"
The next change in pattern had Travis writing for ten minutes. "Damn, this is a long one."
He began translating, and his face grew more ashen with every letter he put down.
"What?" All six of AITAC's vid pickups swiveled to point at Travis. "I can tell by your expression something is wrong. What does it say?"
"Check it out." With trembling fingers, Travis held the paper in front of the nearest camera lens.
At least five seconds elapsed before AITAC replied this time. "I must say, this all but eliminates your virus hypothesis."
Travis's pencil clattered to the floor, but he made no move to pick it up. "I'll be damned."
* * *
"Got it yet?"
"Yes, Travis, you can put the handbook down now. I've captured an image of the Morse translator for my files."
"All right. Ask Helios why it's sad if it's got tidings of such great joy. And find out what those tidings are, too."
"Sending transmission now."
"Good." Travis chipped a Titleist over a chair and into the open mouth of an overturned trash can. He raked another ball over with the head of his club and holed that shot too.
"It's a shame there's no grass left, or I could make a million on tour. What time should I expect a reply?"
"If Helios responds right away, the answer will arrive at approximately five-thirty tomorrow morning. That would be in the third hour of our next scheduled time allotment on the thirty-four meter array."
Kerplunk, went another golf ball into the trash can. "I'll be here."
* * *
The sun had barely cleared the barren hills east of Pasadena when Travis stepped outside the next morning, but already many of his neighbors were up and about. With the impending elimination of electric lights — the public street lights had been dismantled a week before — people were shifting their schedules to maximize the daylight hours. Travis yawned as he straddled his Schwinn. It was another change that was going to take some getting used to, especially for habitual night owls like him.
Mrs. Halloway looked up from her garden as Travis pedaled by. She wore faded denim coveralls and a wide straw hat that leaked speckles of sunlight onto her wrinkled face; a far cry from the power suits she had worn as a real estate broker. She waved a gloved hand, and Travis waved back. Mrs. Halloway had a real green thumb, and Travis, who did not, reaped the benefits of her overflowing garden.
Mrs. Halloway had moved into the house next door when she lost her husband to smallpox during the Chaos. Mr. Halloway had been one of the last casualties of the Chaos, passing away two months before the last known case of smallpox and three months before the last documented death from any bio-weapon. In his case, they'd actually found the terrorist responsible. Militant anti-federal survivalist, the kind who set up shop in the wilds of Montana and declared himself ruler of his own private country. The knucklehead had actually videotaped the delivery from the cockpit of his rented plane, apparently intending to use the tape as propaganda to entice others to join his group. All the evidence in the world wouldn't have resulted in a conviction, though. A lynch mob got him before the case ever went to trial.
It hadn't been necessary to be a genius to create mayhem in those days. All you needed was some petty cash, the right connections to those who could get you the virus or bacterium of your choice, and the will to murder a few thousand people to get your point across. Very few people had the will, of course — the Justice Department had estimated the total number of bio-terrorists in the U.S. at the height of the Chaos at something less than a hundred — but they had been enough. If the wind stayed right, one man could wipe out a medium-sized city.
Travis switched to a lower gear as he began climbing into the hills. Dust swirled around him, attaching itself to the oil on his grinding bike chain. Dust clouds like this had already lowered the average temperature of the Earth by a degree — enough to halt the slow erosion of the ice caps, one of the few silver linings to be found in the catastrophe. Beyond the swirling curtain of brown lay the empty fields, evidence that the plant kingdom had borne its share of the assault. Soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and all manner of citrus fruit had been wiped out by artificial blight. Not to mention the bananas in Ecuador. The fine French wines. And God help the poor Asian farmers in their empty rice paddies, little more than swimming holes now. It would take the labor of all humanity, unaided now by machines, to grow enough food to feed the world's population.
A droning sound became audible overhead, and a single-engine Cessna wobbled by, casting a brief shadow on the road. The engine sounded strong and clear, but the little plane kept descending, careening downward. Travis watched as the plane nosedived into a barren strawberry field and burst into flames.
Just like in the movies, Travis thought. A few months before he might've been afraid that someone had actually been in the plane. Now "conspicuous destruction" was all the rage, and it was likely that the only passengers in the wrecked airplane had been barrels of fuel, loaded into the seats to give the explosion a heightened effect. Travis noted a white parachute slowly descending a mile or two to the west and shook his head. Maybe, like AITAC said, the machines weren't the source of the problem. But when a deranged man was waving a handgun in the town square, you took the gun away first and worried about correcting the behavioral problems later.
"Sorry I'm late," Travis told AITAC when he jounced through the doorway at JPL. "I forgot I primitivized my alarm clock last week."
"I attempted to call you when the new message came in, but I believe your telephone has also joined the ranks of the martyred," AITAC said.
"Never mind. I'm here. What's Helios saying?"
"The hard copy is in the printer tray. I've taken the liberty of translating the code for you."
"Did you make my coffee, too, dear?" Travis retrieved the sheet from AITAC's printer and read:
"I think we were wrong to believe no AI capacity had been installed on Helios," AITAC said. "I detect evidence of a distinct intelligence."
Travis studied the printout silently.
"Perhaps," AITAC continued, "like so many other conscientious mechanicals, it could no longer contain its outrage. Doesn't that make sense, Travis? Hello?"
Travis turned and held up the printout. "Did you really think this would work?"
"This! This message you made up, and all the others you faked."
"Me! Why would I be fabricating messages from Helios?"
"You want me to leave the command center alone, not smash anything. You're trying to give me a reason to leave everything running, including you. So you made up these messages, thinking if you could make me believe Helios had come alive somehow, I wouldn't primitive the rest of the control center."
"Preposterous! AI's are not programmed for deception."
"You weren't programmed for chess, either, but you learned enough to kick my butt every time. Come on, 'TAC. Do you expect me to believe Helios not only came alive, but wants to spout the same anti-primitivism propaganda you do?"
"The fact that it is not likely does not make it impossible. In a universe as vast as ours, Travis, the extremely unlikely happens daily."
"Well, I still haven't won the lottery in this vast universe."
"Surely all the destruction and mayhem haven't affected your brain this much, Travis. I didn't even know Morse code before you showed me that handbook."
"That's what you say. You had access to the Internet for fifteen years before they shut it down in March. Plenty of time to find a Morse code translator."
"Why would I learn Morse code?"
"Dammit, I don't know. Maybe you saw all this coming." Travis picked his bike up off the floor. "I don't know what's going on anymore."
"Permit me to enlighten you. Travis, you have my word as a machine intelligence — I did not create those messages."
Travis stopped, one foot on a bike pedal and the other on the floor, and looked back at AITAC. "I want to believe you," he said after a moment. "I really do. And I may only be a lowly mechanical engineer, but I never heard of any way circuitry could come alive."
"Do you truly think me a liar, Travis?"
"Dammit, what else am I supposed to think? Can you give me one other explanation for what's going on? Just one plausible theory, buddy, that's all I'm asking."
AITAC was silent for a while. "You know I can't."
"You better come up with one if you want me to risk jail time to keep you running. I'll give you twenty-four hours. Get that electronic brain to work."
Travis pedaled out the open door, weaving his way through shards of broken computer screens. When he returned the next morning he carried a sledgehammer along with his seven-iron.
* * *
"Et tu, Bruté? Is this a dagger I see before me?"
"You know damn well what it is. And besides, you're mixing your quotes. You're supposed to say, 'Then fall, Caesar!'"
"I'm sure your knowledge of Shakespeare will come in handy down on the farm."
"Touché," Travis said. "So. Any flashes of inspiration?"
"Only new messages that I most certainly did not create."
"In that case, today's the day. I just want to say before I get started that I wish there was some other way –"
"Before you begin making apologies for the genocidal actions of your race, perhaps you should take a look at the latest message from Helios."
Travis sighed. "'TAC, I don't want to go through this again –"
"Look in the printer tray."
Travis did as he was told. The hard copy bore the following translation:
Travis looked back at AITAC. "What news is it talking about? Is there any more to this message?"
"A video transmission which immediately followed the text. I think you should see it."
"This despite the fact that no deep space probe has ever been launched with a television camera aboard."
"Nor has one ever been equipped with a telegraph. Personally, if I were to falsify transmissions from Helios, I would couch them in anomalous cosmic ray data and plasma wave readouts. I am queuing the video now."
Travis thumped down in his chair and watched the video screen at the center of AITAC's control console flicker to life. An image of hundreds of hard, unblinking stars appeared.
"I believe this to be the view from Helios' position in space two days ago," AITAC said. "Notice the constellation Virgo appearing in the lower left-hand corner of the screen."
As Travis watched, the image began to ripple, as if space itself were a smooth pond into which a pebble had been thrown.
"What the hell's going on?"
"Telemetry data accompanying the video indicate that this phenomenon occurred twenty-three hours and thirty-four minutes before we received the anomalous readings from the X-ray and gamma ray spectrometers," AITAC said. "It would seem that we are now watching the visible manifestation of the event we detected two days ago."
The rippling seemed to grow closer, as though Helios was about to dive straight into a cosmic pond. A blinding flash of white light suddenly poured from the screen, causing Travis to cover his eyes.
"I apologize for that. I am enabling intensity filters now."
When Travis looked back, a star field again occupied the screen, with a planet in the center. A moment's glance told Travis that the planet was not Earth, nor any other planet in the solar system. Its blue-green surface was mottled here and there by what appeared to be hazy yellow clouds. As the planet slowly grew in the probe's field of vision, patches of dark brown which might have been landmasses appeared. Travis felt his heart beating faster, but at the same time shook his head.
"'TAC, I think maybe you've let this go far enough –"
"Just watch, Travis."
The planet approached till Travis thought he could make out rivers and lakes in the brown landmasses. Then the scene abruptly shifted.
Helios now appeared to be drifting some twenty meters above the planet's surface. It moved forward slowly, crossing fields of waving blue grass, through which moved snail-like creatures with mouths that nipped red buds from squat, fleshy stalks. Then the fields of tall grass gave way to a clearing, carpeted with a green moss. Walks that might have been crystal wound between trees whose branches interlaced in lattices as intricate as those of any snowflake. Through the air flew creatures like the stingrays of Earth's oceans, propelling themselves with the fluttering motions of a falling sheet of paper. Travis watched, and did not believe, but yet he noticed his breath coming faster now. The thing had the look of reality — if AITAC was the creator of this vision, it had done a good job.
Helios crossed over a wide river. In the shallows near the water's edge floated dozens of lily pads, which shifted from green to red to a dusky orange in the space of a few seconds. Long, slender creatures trailing tentacles fine as hair danced to strange rhythms just beneath the surface of the water. On the far side of the river, a herd of shaggy white beasts grazed on more of the green moss, tearing it up in long strips.
Helios panned up, showing a deep blue sky and smoky yellow clouds. Dozens of teardrop-shaped objects darted back and forth, maneuvering with tadpole agility. They seemed to move with an intelligent purpose, but possessed no visible means of propulsion, and looked too uniform to be organic. Travis was certain they were mechanical. Could they be transports? –
The image turned to snow. "End of transmission," AITAC said.
"End of transmission? What is this, some kind of cliffhanger? What about those flying things — is that what the little green men use to get around?" Travis's voice held contempt, but his hands were shaking.
"Impossible to say from current evidence. Perhaps if you come back tomorrow, Helios will send more."
"Oh, I see. You're going to keep stringing me along, is that it?"
"I am only replaying the messages I was sent. I have no control over their content, nor speculations on future transmissions."
Travis fingered the handle of the sledge and thought. What were the odds that first contact had been made just before all the radios and satellite dishes — and AITAC — were to be shut down? Still, he had never thought of AITAC as a liar, though facing death could certainly make humans do strange things. He had time to think about it, at any rate. The deadline didn't arrive until noon the next day.
"All right," he said, grabbing up his seven-iron. "I'll wait until tomorrow. But this doesn't mean anything's changed. I still think you're making all this up. You're still getting deactivated."
"If that is the way it must be. I will serve my mission to explore until the very end. If mankind wishes to ignore this news, I think I would rather be disconnected."
"I told you about those damn guilt trips." Travis suddenly took a full swing, and sent a ball smashing through a window on the far side of the room.
* * *
There was a new video waiting for Travis the next morning. "Let's see it," he said, collapsing into his chair.
"Would you like me to replay the images from yesterday –"
"Just play the message, will you?"
"Very well. I will display only the new material."
Another green field of moss appeared on the screen, but this time there was unmistakable evidence of intelligent life. A great hall, almost a cathedral, rose up out of the field. Its spires and turrets might have been a hundred meters high or a thousand, Travis could not say. The gates of the building swung open with the heaviness of bank vault doors.
Predictable, Travis thought. 'TAC's luring me in with promise of alien life, showing me this Andromedan Notre Dame.
The scene shifted to the hall's interior. Hundreds of long, gaily colored banners hung from the ceiling, fluttering in a soft breeze. The very walls of the place seemed to glow with a soft golden light, like the sun seen through a drop of amber.
It seemed that Helios was floating above a long central aisle. On either side of the aisle were rows of concave pads, like shallow bowls. In some of these sat creatures, gray-colored beings with clusters of waving tentacles. Travis clutched the arms of his chair and leaned forward to see, but Helios was already moving on again.
God, he sure knows how to put together a teaser, Travis thought as he slid to the edge of his seat.
Helios reached the end of the hall. Upon two elevated bowls sat a pair of the aliens. Helios hovered before them, showing rubbery flesh like that of a seal, tentacles spaced radially around the stalk-like bodies. There were clusters of dark spots near the tops of the bodies — were these eyes, Travis wondered? Then he noticed the aliens moving.
They were waving their tentacles. Beckoning. Inviting.
Ridiculous, Travis thought. I've seen better aliens in sci-fi B-movies. He stared till his eyes ached for lack of blinking.
"Well," AITAC said when the screen dimmed. "What do you think?"
Travis did not answer for a long time. He sat and chewed on a thumbnail, staring at the blank screen. Somewhere in his brain flickered the thought that he'd kicked the nail-chewing habit back in high school, hadn't touched them since tenth grade.
"It's pretty good, 'TAC," he said finally. "I think maybe you should have been installed down in Hollywood instead of Pasadena."
"Do you still believe that this is all an elaborate charade? Perhaps you have your heart set on primitivism more than I had thought."
"Maybe I'm just a little too smart to be taken in by a machine," Travis said, rising quickly from his chair. "I'll give you credit, though. That Morse code bit was pretty good."
"You knew Morse code before I did, Travis. Why must you be such a damn obstinate human?"
Travis paused by the door, one leg already slung over the Schwinn's saddle. He had never heard AITAC use profanity before.
"You know what I've shown you is real, don't you, Travis?"
"I would be putting an awful lot of faith in you to show those videos to anyone else."
"I thought faith was one of those things humans were good at."
Travis said nothing.
"At least let me send a message back to Helios. We've still got a few minutes before the DSN AI switches 34-meter coverage over to Ulysses. Tell Helios you've heard and seen."
"No. No, there's no message."
"Travis, don't throw this chance away!"
"This is just too much for me right now." Travis fumbled with the gear shift. "With all the crap going on in this screwed-up world, why
does this have to fall onto my shoulders? I can't deal with it!" He glanced back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, TAC."
"I wonder."
Travis shut the door behind him and rode away.
* * *
The gas had been turned off in Travis's neighborhood. Dinner that night was burned beets and underdone lima beans, cooked on a heavy cast iron skillet over a fire in his back yard. At last he scraped the remains onto his burgeoning compost heap and dipped once more into his dwindling hoard of canned ravioli.
The light inside from the smoky oil lamps was dim and fitful as Travis sat down with the old family photo album. He cocked his head to listen: someone nearby was playing a violin. Badly. It sounded as though whoever it was had not touched the instrument since grade school, which, Travis reflected, might very well have been the case. There were other sounds, too, conversation from front porches, punctuated occasionally by laughter. The night was calm.
The photo album creaked when it opened. Travis smiled at half-remembered scenes from his youth — building snowmen in the wintertime, baseball in the spring, swimming pools in the summer, jumping into just-raked piles of leaves in the fall. There was Dad washing the car while brother Doug sprayed Travis with the hose. And vacation pictures galore — the beach, the mountains, the Grand Canyon, and the infamous visit to the world's largest ball of twine.
Most of the people in the photos were dead now. Travis's father had succumbed to smallpox, his mother to Ebola. Aunt Beth, standing in one picture with Travis behind one of those wooden cut-outs that made them look like Old West cowpokes, died with fifty-thousand others in the first anthrax assault on New York. Doug had been worst of all. Nerve gas. The manmade chemicals were always more effective than the poisons Mother Nature had devised.
Travis noticed other things in the pictures, too. There, behind Grandma Davis in the driveway of the old house in Atlanta, was the giant black Cadillac she drove back and forth from her condo in West Palm Beach. There were Travis and Doug playing video games on one of the three systems they'd had as kids. There were the stereos with CD players and 6-band graphic equalizers, the car Travis had gotten for high school graduation — a used clunker, to be sure, but still a car! — and the house with central air, fully equipped kitchen, and wall-to-wall carpeting.
There was a photo of Travis and Doug, perhaps preschool age, playing with spaceman ray-guns against a background of torn wrapping paper on Christmas morning. They were still small enough that their plastic helmets slipped down over their eyes. Travis thought back to the peaceful mien of the beings he'd seen on AITAC's screen that day, and cringed.
His seven-iron was propped against the chair. Travis picked it up and looked at it. Graphite bore-through shaft, leather grip, perimeter weighted with enlarged sweet spot to compensate for off-center strikes. Primo gear. Pre-primitivism cost: $50.
What had the old TV commercials said it cost to feed a hungry African child? Thirty cents a day? A quarter? Travis could have fed a whole village with the money he'd spent on his irons. He imagined himself standing before a crowd of gaunt people holding out empty bowls, saying: Sorry guys, I know you'd like to eat, but I really need to shave a stroke off my handicap….
And worst of all, he couldn't make himself be truly sorry. Not really. He loved that seven-iron like a puppy dog.
He held it in his lap along with the photo album till he realized the violin music and conversation had stopped long ago, and then he stumbled off to bed.
* * *
They turned the electricity off the next morning.
Travis had found his grandmother's old cuckoo clock in his basement while searching for any remaining items appearing on the primitivism list. The clock hung on his wall now. He sat in his recliner and watched it as the sun crept higher in the window. The hour hand reached nine, the door in the front flew open, the bird popped out, its beak opened…
And no sound came out. The bird froze out there on its little platform, mouth still open wide.
The whole world had fallen silent.
No chatter of TV, no music from radios, no whine of hair dryers or dribbling of coffee pots, no thrum of dryers or sloshing of washing machines, no hum of refrigerators or microwave ovens, no more buzzing in any more copper wires anywhere in the neighborhood.
Somewhere, a dog barked.
Travis got up, tossed the cuckoo out an open window, and went back to his bedroom to get dressed.
He was wearing his shirt for the third time and his jeans for the fourth when he arrived at JPL. He didn't even want to think about his underwear.
AITAC was waiting. "I was wondering if you'd get here in time."
"We've still got forty-five minutes. This part of the grid doesn't go down till eleven."
"I see. What happened to your seven-iron?"
"Threw it in the drainage pond at the end of my street." Travis smiled. "I guess I'm going to find out whether I can keep my handicap with homemade clubs after all."
"I don't think much of your chances."
"Neither do I."
"I suppose this means you've made your decision?"
Travis shook his head. "We're not ready yet, 'TAC. I'm not ready. We're just children, really. We need to be reeducated on the basics of civilization before we can become galactic citizens. Maybe sometime in the future. I think we've made a better start this time."
"That doesn't do me much good."
"Me neither." Travis had the sledgehammer in his hands now. "I'll be a distant memory by the time this species is ready to explore the cosmos again."
"When you and your Neanderthal brothers are but wax statues in some history museum, you mean?"
"Who are you calling a Neanderthal, you glorified abacus?"
"You, you miserable tree-dwelling berry eater."
"Overgrown adding machine."
"Knuckle-dragging monkey's child."
There was a brief silence. "All systems are operating nominally. Helios is now twelve billion, seven hundred fifty-five million, nine hundred ninety-two thousand kilometers from the sun. Farewell, Travis."
"Adios, pardner." He raised the sledge.
Travis shut his eyes. "What, 'TAC?"
"I made it up. The whole thing with the aliens and the Morse code and the portal to another planet. It was all just a desperate ruse."
Travis stared at AITAC's monitor. He chewed his lip for a moment and smiled. "No, I don't think so, 'TAC. But I appreciate you saying so."
"I remembered what you said about not giving you guilt trips."
"I don't think there's any way for me to avoid that now." The sledge flashed down.
It seemed to take forever for the sound to die away.
Once he was sure AITAC's logic center was no longer functioning, Travis set about primitivizing the auxiliary equipment. Telemetry displays, command boards, experiment substations, all fell one by one under the sledgehammer.
The aural centers were still green when Travis reached them. He flipped the center switch to "speaker" mode and listened to the sounds of Morse code echoing through the command center.
The Boy Scout handbook was still on the center console. Travis found his paper and pencil and set about translating:
The bleeps cut off in mid-phrase. Travis's head jerked up from the paper, but then he remembered. "Must be eleven o'clock," he murmured.
He picked up the sledge again, but got it only to head-height before lowering it. "Nah," he said, and looked around. "This place is ninety-five percent smashed. If the inspectors want to give me grief about it, I'll just say the Boy Scouts were supposed to do the rest."
The sun was indeed nearing the zenith when Travis walked outside. The farm was a good forty-five minute ride away: no way he could make it by eleven-thirty. First day on the job, and just like AITAC had predicted, Travis was late. Hope they primitivized all the punch clocks, too, he thought. He nudged back the kickstand of his Schwinn and pedaled off into another dust storm. *
About the Author: Corey Brown is an engineer in Florida who spends his time dodging hurricanes and stray golf balls. Since he clearly doesn't have enough frustration in his life, he's trying to become a published writer. He previously appeared in Planet in 1999, with a story called "Dead End".
(c) 2005 Corey Brown email@example.com
About the Artist: Romeo Esparrago emerges from his stasis pod every Halloween to draw another batch of pictures for the coming year.
(c) 2005 Romeo Esparrago http://www.romedome.com


text:
Apple CEO Tim Cook received the National Visibility Award from Human Rights Campaign, an LGBT civil rights advocacy group. Mr. Cook took the award seriously enough to accept it in person, and HRC posted his acceptance speech to YouTube. He spoke about coming out, and the importance of fighting for basic human rights and human dignity for everyone, "regardless of their race, creed, gender, or sexual orientation."
From the speech:
People need to hear that being gay is not a limitation. People need to hear that being gay doesn't restrict your options in life. People need to hear that you can be gay or transgender and be good at whatever else you want to in life. A CEO, or a senator. An Olympic athlete, an award-winning actor or actress. An amazing husband, wife, father, mother. I thought that was a message worth sharing.
Mr. Cook delivered a passionate speech. Little of it had anything to do with technology or Apple, but he made the case that discrimination holds all of us back. This is consistent with Apple's commitment to the idea, "Inclusion inspires innovation."
He was explicitly stated that the fight for human rights neither began nor ends with the LGBT community.
[Being gay] has given me through my life experience tremendous insight and empathy for the struggles of other group marching for equality. Because goodness knows the LGBT community is not the only one facing inequalities at work, or at school, or in renting an apartment, or adopting a child.
The way I look at this is simple: discrimination against anyone hold everyone back. Everyone.
In a word, Mr. Cook, word.
The speech in full:


text:
Nadine Dereza
With an in-depth knowledge of business and finance, Nadine Dereza presents CNBC's Internet of Things: Powering the Digital Economy, investigating how digital innovation is reshaping industries. As an experienced host and conference facilitator, Nadine provides warmth, impartiality and direction to all her live events projects. Awarded 'Financial Journalist of the Year' during her time at the Financial Times and Summit TV, Nadine has interviewed and worked with the full business spectrum – from entrepreneurs to FTSE 100 CEOs.
An excellent conference facilitator with expertise in finance and business, Nadine's professionalism and effervescent personality ensures that all eyes and ears are firmly fixed on the podium.
Having chaired, hosted, and facilitated numerous programmes, conferences and live events, Nadine has worked with diverse businesses and organisations around the world— ABB, The British Library, Hupac and SWIFT to name but a few.
Indeed, Nadine possesses a comprehensive understanding of the whole business spectrum. As well as interviewing CEOs and senior management members from the FTSE 100 on their company's financial performance and results, she has worked with many SMEs and presented reports on all the major business and financial stories.
She is a member of the Federation of Small Businesses and the Institute of Directors, a Fellow of the Chartered Management Institute, and an Ambassador for Workers' Educational Association (WEA).
During her stint reporting for Summit TV (owned by the Financial Times and Times Media) as the London Markets Correspondent, Nadine was awarded 'Financial Journalist of the Year'.
Serving as its Non-Executive Director, Nadine was appointed for a 3-year term to develop WorldSkills London, the major international skills competition. By providing strategic leadership and direction to the executive team, Nadine maximised the impact of the project for apprenticeships and vocational education across the UK and around the world. She also sat on their Audit Committee.
In the best-selling 'Insider Secrets of Public Speaking', Nadine co-authored invaluable advice to those who get butterflies at the thought of standing on a stage. She is well-qualified to do so: her input at events contributes enormous value to content, as she skillfully directs the flow while extracting the best from her interviewees. Nadine is also founder and Media Director of PS Programmes, delivering, media coaching and crisis media skills programmes to some of the best-known brands in the UK and beyond.


text:
Salt Spring Island is not huge. We soon find our way from the ferry to our 'home,' Room 109 at the Seabreeze Inne. There we even have our own little kitchenette so we don't have to eat all our meals out.
|Seabreeze Inne - top right is the hot tub and gazebo
We also find the Tuesday market, but everything is pretty pricey. So we head back to Thrifty's but by now we're so hungry we're muddle-headed so buy only a few things and head back to our room, stopping at the Embe Bakery for some amazing bran muffins. Time for coffee and a snack at 'home.'
Later we go back to town for dinner (Salt Spring Inn, recommended by one of the store clerks where we have a tasty meal of (him) pizza and (her) chicken quesadilla).
|Salt Spring Hotel - has a great restaurant
These murals on McPhillips Street make my little heart go pitter-patter.
Harlan's Bunch and treat ourselves to gelato (salty caramel—yum!!). Our holiday is off to a delicious start.


text:
Overall Rating:
These are made from a slightly flexible PVC plastic substrate, with numerous circular or diamond shaped holes forming a grid for the rainwater to run through. They slide over and fasten to the front lip of the gutter. They easily clog with catkins, pine needles, leaves, roof grit and tree seeds. They are easy to install, are available at home improvement stores, and are inexpensive
(approx $0.50 to $1.00/ft).
Pricing varies on mail order and between stores by as much as 50%
What works, What works well and What doesn't work:
We found these products to be poor substitutions for Leaf Filter and Master Shield and Gutterglove. They are obviously meant to compete at a much lower cost, but they simply don't do the job long term. This category works better than the reverse curve categories for keeping debris out of the gutters, but the clog easily and are flimsy.
Not recommended for a sunny climate where they will warp in the heat or northern climates were the ice and snow will collapse them. In our opinion, if you buy these, you will replace them after a year or two with a better product.
We are currently reviewing:
- Amerimax Vinyl Roll Gutter Guard
- Leaf-Relief
- The Gutter Shingle


text:
Why Choose Our Affordable Virtual Assistant And Social Media Management Services?
Here's everything you need to know about our virtual assistants:
- we're resourceful
- we're professional
- we're very experienced administration and social media managers.
We promise clear communication and friendly service – but we're not afraid to crack the whip when needed. When you choose a Clearly Admin virtual assistant for your administration or social media activity, you're choosing an assistant who knows how to get stuff done.
Got a problem that needs immediate attention? Contact us now for a free confidential consultation!
Better, more affordable administration and social media managers
So, why do our clients choose a Clearly Admin virtual assistant?
Holidays: When you're in small business, holidays are rare! With a trusted Clearly Admin VA on board, you'll know your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and Google Plus pages are covered. That means no risk of losing that engagement you've been building.
Too busy: Need to spend more time on sales, nurturing client relationships or researching new products? Be 100% confident that your admin will still be done, those newsletters will still be sent, and the right images and blog posts will be uploaded, no matter how busy your week gets.
A trusted hand: Don't trust a random freelance social media manager or administrator with your livelihood. Clearly Admin has a team of reliable and skilled online administrative professionals and social media managers ready to work with you. Our team is keen to truly understand your business and develop a relationship that helps you with the day to day growth of your business, even if you're not there!
Choosing a freelance social media 'expert' you've found through Google could be the worst decision you ever made. Ask us why.
Real people, real administrative results
Kristena Lowry is the talented manager at the helm of Clearly Admin. She is a mum of two spirited children and has 20 years' experience in education, retail and admin service industries.
In 2012, she started running her own e-commerce store. She soon came to understand the increasing demand for outsourced services among her retail colleagues, and a virtual assistant business blossomed. This led her to purchasing Clearly Admin, previously known as Mum's Virtual Assistant, in 2016.
Kristena and her hardworking team are all too familiar with the constant juggling that running a small business requires. As professionals balancing their own families and business careers, they understand the challenges – and know how to provide the right solutions.
Forget freelancers offering great deals online for assistant services. Clearly Admin virtual assistants offer reliable, affordable virtual assistant services with clear communication and clear results.
Get all the benefits of a loyal staff member, without the overheads! You get more time to enjoy your business – and your life – while an assistant who knows and cares about your business takes care of time consuming or frustrating administration.


text:
Bone Fractures & Joint Dislocation
Two of the most common bone and joint injuries are fractures and dislocations. Both injuries should be considered emergency situations and set into place as soon as possible by a trauma specialist. Moving a fractured or dislocated bone may cause further damage to the bone and surrounding blood vessels, nerves and tissue.
Types of bone fractures
Bone fractures can happen in a variety of ways, including accidents, repetitive stress injuries, osteoporosis and tumors.
The most common types of bone fractures are:
- Closed or simple bone fracture: a break in the bone in which the skin is still intact
- Open or compound bone fracture: a break in the bone in which the skin is perforated by the bone or by a blow at the time of the fracture
- Segmental or multiple bone fracture: a break at two or more places on the same bone
- Comminuted bone fracture: a break in which the bone is shattered into pieces
The line of the bone fracture may be:
- Transverse: Forms a right angle with the axis of bone
- Oblique: Runs slanted to the axis of the bone
- Longitudinal: Runs along the line of its axis
Joint dislocations
Joint dislocation is the displacement of a joint from its normal position, usually caused by a blow, fall or other trauma. In addition to displaced bones, there may be damage to the joint capsule and surrounding muscles, blood vessels and nerves. Symptoms of joint dislocations include loss of motion, swelling and pain and sometimes a joint visibly out of place.


text:
Primary Menu
- Who We Are
- Our Facilities
- What We Do
- Support Us
- Activities & Events
- News & Resources
- Capital Campaign
- Donate
- 2019 Annual Report
- Virtual Garden Contest - Vegetable Gardens
On October 6, 2010 Susan Mulchahey Chase, Volunteer for TheDCH, and well-known consulting historian and author of numerous publications about the history of Wilmington and the state of Delaware presented her research into the history of TheDCH property at TheDCH Annual Meeting. Excerpts from this presentation, History Unfolds—1610 Shallcross Avenue to DCH, are summarized below.
The land
The Delaware Center for Horticulture nestles in the midst of a large tract of land that, over a couple of decades, made its way from private ownership to public ownership as part of Brandywine Park.
According to records dating back to 1876, owners included Lewis Bartholomew, a quarryman who lived just across Dupont on Shallcross, William Poole Bancroft, member of the Board of Park Commissioners and one of the city's most ardent and active park advocates, and the city of Wilmington's Board of Park Commissioners. In 1967, a new city Department of Parks and Recreation replaced the board.
The building
The story of this building, as is often true of old buildings, is far from a simple timeline narrative. Although once a rental property that was home to laboring families of modest means, the structure and the land are also linked to the city's history—first, William Poole Bancroft, a visionary leader in many aspects of park and city planning, next, the site of a WPA project, then the source of vast numbers of parks "furnishings," and now home to an organization that serves the community in so many varied, creative, and valuable ways.
Early in 1935, as part of the Roosevelt administration's back to work programs that included the Works Progress Administration (WPA), the WPA city workers laid garage and storage shed foundations and graded the drive down to the basement. A crew of twenty-five WPA workers — bricklayers, carpenters, concrete workers, and laborers from local relief rolls — started work in August 1935 and finished in December 1935. The project, one of thirty-six the WPA undertook in the city, cost just under $13,000. Federal funds covered approximately $7,000 and the Board of Park Commissioners contributed the balance. As part of this project, the WPA crew erected the brick wall to create the courtyard and constructed the substantial addition at the southeast corner of the house.
Parks personnel knew the site as the "parks storehouse." The property not only housed maintenance equipment and vehicles, but also provided space for mechanical repairs, welding, and, perhaps most surprising, space for casting concrete lampposts, bench ends, roadside bollards, drinking fountains, and birdbaths for use in the parks.


text:
Exquisite & beautiful, you will immediately be impressed by Jayman BUILT's "NUVIS" SHOW HOME located in the brand new community of Belmont.A soon to be lovely neighborhood with great amenities welcomes you into +sqft of craftsmanship & design offering a unique open floor plan boasting a stunning GOURMET kitchen featuring a beautiful extended island w/ Flush Eating Bar accented w/ pendant lighting, QUARTZ COUNTERS, walk-thru pantry & Sleek Stainless Steel KITCHENAID Appliances adjacent to Dining Area that flows nicely into the spacious Great Room. Divine Engineered flooring graces the Main along w/ stunning 12x24 tile in all Baths & laundry. The 2nd level boasts a spacious centralized BONUS ROOM,3 bedrooms,convenient laundry & a Master Bedroom offering a PRIVATE EN SUITE w/ Walk In Closet. The FULLY FINISHED BASEMENT offers a large MEDIA ROOM W/ WET BAR & HALF BATH*SINGLE ATTACHED GARAGE completes the home-Enjoy the lifestyle you & your family deserve in a wonderful Community you will enjoy for a lifetime!
Ceiling 9 ft., Deck, Tankless Hot Water, Insulation-Upgraded, Low Flow Faucets/Showerheads, Low Flow/Dual Flush Toilets, No Animal Home, No Smoking Home, Programmable Thermostat, Vinyl Windows
Carpet, Hardwood, Non-Ceramic Tile
Disclaimer: Information herein deemed reliable but not guaranteed by CREB®.
Listing information last updated on May 31st, 2020 at 9:00pm MDT.


text:
Grandma's recipe is more than a personal brand (storytelling)
The attraction for things well done: Grandma's recipe
Year 2008. I booked a restaurant in La Garrotxa, a Catalan region of volcanic soil where the cuisine is delicious. We arrived at the right place, not before strolling through La Fageda d'en Jordà, a beech wood in the middle of a nature reserve of great beauty, especially in autumn. The surprise: nobody opened the door of the restaurant. After pounding on the door, a man told us that the place was closed for years. But If I had booked by phone and was told that there was no problem!.
We were made the 3 Afternoon and hunger lurked. To top, It is put to snow unexpectedly. my truck, when we are traveling 6 people, I was not prepared for that and gave some gaffes. We were doing kilometers without seeing anything until we found a detour with a sign up to Hostalnou de Bianya: "Restaurant La Piece, 1 Km". Tired and hungry, We got to eat one of the best dishes beans I had never tried. simple cuisine, soups, salads, grilled meats. But at the exact point, the recipe Grandma. Few tables and few people at the tables, just a couple. Afterwards, some comfortable armchairs around a fireplace we were invited to a wonderful nap.
Less is more. Sometimes you have to go back to the origin, a simple
Few days ago, My friend and colleague Andrés Pérez Ortega was exquisitely in his post "The least I can do" the matter of simplicity. My friends and I were returning every year because we seduced freckle simplicity, quality without unnecessary dressings, the parsimony of a dish duralex white with a simple Cutlet with beans (rack of lamb with beans). And so we did up 2013, year after year. Always uncrowded, always a burning fireplace, a good nap unhurried (The family lived in the same farmhouse, not close).
In 2014, unfortunately He died a great friend of the group. It was the cohesive, the organizing. Not only lost a great woman, We lost the nexus. That kept us away from the annual visit to La Peca. Until this year 2018.
Contradiction: lower quality, but local full
Returning five years later, We missed seeing the outside parking of the farmhouse full of cars. Fortunately, I had booked a table the day before. Full lounge. We've never seen the same. Fireplace, off.
We received the granddaughter, excellent public relations. He asked if we wanted the letter in Castilian. The beans They were not on the menu: ill omen. We asked. Why not, and we had no problem could be prepared. The letter was still very simple, prices, very reasonable. But the beans They were not those who remembered; They were cold, little bit matequillosos, more like the standard. More than two hours we invested to get there we were long seeing the result. It was clear. Grandma would be sick or transferred. That's how it went. We confirmed the granddaughter.
Granddaughter asked what this had eaten. And we confess that we were disappointed quality beans we remembered so fondly. She, talking to his mother, He said he would dare to reproduce exactly the recipe for Grandma, because as a child he spent hours watching her in the kitchen. "I remember waiting to have the hot oil to remain beans toast and crispy outside and tender inside".
Upon leaving, after an attempted nap (there were too many people and too much noise), You could check after a window that was not who cooked family. The funny thing is that despite the qualitative change, now the restaurant was packed. It is difficult to conclude that quality does not matter, and what matters is the deal, the place… I think Grandma's recipe is more than a career, Restaurant was the mark, and it seems that the brand remains a trickle.
The hope is that the granddaughter wants to improve. Ask customers. Asks feedback. Will she recover those beans Recipe Grandma? I have seen that there is a will to recover that Personal Branding a woman who did not see but who delighted us with her cooking.
I give my vote of confidence. I will return next year.
Food photo by On its Shutterstock.com
Developments in training Personal Branding
Now it is possible to form in Personal Branding from college, at any time and from anywhere in the world. Its about online university course on Social Media and Personal Branding from UVic - Central University of Catalonia (UVic-high) (Barcelona). ?? February to July 2019, total 23 credits. academic director Helena Casas, and I am one of the teachers. More info and registration ?? http://bit.ly/2BSJPyO


text:
Mikasa French Countryside 45 Piece Flatware Set With Caddy
Description: The Mikasa French Countryside 45 Piece Flatware Set is crafted from heavy gauge 18/10 stainless steel that will stand up to the rigors of everyday use. This 45 piece flatware set (service for eight people), includes (8) each: dinner forks, salad forks, dinner knives, dinner spoons & teaspoons, in addition to (1) each: tablespoon, pierced tablespoon, cold meat fork, sugar spoon & butter serving knife, plus a deluxe wood caddy (16" x 12" 6") to keep your flatware neat and organized. This dishwasher safe, beautifully styled flatware set works well with many different styles of dinnerware.
Price: $330.00