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I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don't like this story or me, please don't spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…
Chapter 42—The Ties That (Should) Bind
"Thank you, Jason," I say when we return to Grey Crossing on Saturday evening. I had a little errand to run and with good intelligence, the right staff, and a little cooperation from the right people, it went off without a hitch and I'm back before dinner.
So I guess I never really understood the draw of the hookah bar. You go into this dark place. There might be loud music or no music; you have fruit bowls or tea or soda or whatever; and you all puff on this peace pipe that has fruity smoke in it and ponder life.
Yeah, okay… whatever floats your boat.
Whatever the case, dressed like a couple of black-clad ninja beatniks complete with sunglasses and baseball caps, Jason and I park a few blocks away and travel to one such locale on Saturday evening while Chuck continues his visit with his parents. We are floating surprisingly unnoticed through this establishment looking for one melon-clad bitch who may or may not be melon-clad this evening. It doesn't take long to spot her. I seriously set my sights to find the tackiest girl in the room and zeroed in on her in seconds.
She's wearing an oversized tan sweater that has truly seen better days. The sweater actually looks like it's been frayed on the sides—like someone took a perfectly good cable-knit sweater and destroyed it… and she's wearing it as a dress with a pair of army green, over-the-knee, fishnet, peep-toe boots. Somewhere, I'm sure this outfit is supposed to be stylish, maybe on the runways of Paris or something. However, I didn't get the memo. Ana would ignite my twitchy palm if she dared ever leave the house in this catastrophe.
I prepare to settle in and wait for her to move, but as luck would have it, before my butt could find a seat, she's on her way to the restroom. Perfect! I gesture to Jason, who nods and falls in a few feet behind me as I follow this bitch to the bathroom.
I wait for a second before I enter the facilities, much to the dismay of one shocked redhead touching up her lipstick in the mirror. I don't say a word. I don't remove my glasses. I just stare at her reflection in the mirror for a few seconds.
Needless to say, she thinks it best to leave.
After checking the other stalls and ensuring that only the hideous peeptoe army boots remain, I lock the door and wait.
After a respectable amount of time, I hear a toilet flush and Ms. Wilson emerges from the stall.
"What the…?" She's clearly startled to see a man in the ladies' room. She digs in her purse for something, but I don't give her the chance to find it. Her horror is compounded when she finds her purse and its contents splayed all over the bathroom floor with a quick swipe of my hand. She opens her mouth to scream and I put up my finger.
"You don't want to do that," I growl, employing my most menacing Domme voice. I could swear I see her tremble. I remove my hat and glasses so that she can see who I am.
"Mr. Grey… Christian!" she says, in disbelief.
"You were expecting someone else?" I ask, sardonically.
"You don't think it's odd that you're in the ladies' room?" she asks. "There are cameras everywhere."
"First of all, nobody knows that I'm here. Nobody has a clue. There's just some guy in all black that followed you into the bathroom. With your reputation, one of your admirers, no doubt. Second of all, there are no cameras in the ladies' room. It's against the law. So it's my word against yours and who the hell do you think anybody is going to believe, especially since none of my cars are anywhere on the premises? As far as anybody knows—my staff, my wife, anybody—I'm entertaining out of town guests at my home. And speaking of my wife, exactly what people do you know… bitch?"
The color leaves her face as she ascertains the purpose of my visit. I made it clear to her that she wasn't my favorite person when she was in my home, but apparently, she didn't get the message. Let's try again.
"I could break your scrawny little neck right now and walk right out of here."
"But you won't," she says bravely.
"Oh, I won't?" I say, employing my Dom voice as I begin to walk forward, backing her against the wall. "You came on to my wife," I growl. "Do you have any idea how much I love her? How much I worship her? How obsessed I am with her?" I hiss. "Is it unhealthy? Probably so. Do I care? No! You came on to her, to my wife! To my goddess! So that makes you Public Enemy #1, but what's worse… for you… is that you threatened her. That was a grave mistake on your part, little lady, a grave mistake." I put one gloved hand around her neck and squeeze just enough to cause discomfort.
"Don't be so sure that I won't break your neck," I breathe into her face, "because if the wind blows the wrong way in her direction, I'm coming for you, and nothing on Earth will be able to save you. Do you understand?" Glassy eyes focus on mine as she nods her understanding and I slowly release her neck. I take a few moments to breathe, count, and pop my neck.
"You may not believe this, but she made me a better person. If she hadn't, you'd probably be dead by now. She taught me a lot and that's why I'm so protective of her. I can lay down that better person at will, as you just saw. She can teach you to be a better person, too, if you allow her. She has the ability to bring out the best in people and unless you're just a flaming whore who wanted to fuck another man's pregnant wife, you saw that when you first met her. You have the opportunity to have her help bring out the best in you and help you grow. If you can't do that, then walk away before it costs you more than just your goddamn trust fund!" I lean in close to her and put my finger on her lip in a "shush" position.
"I was never here," I breathe in her face. "Are we confused about that?" She shakes her head, whimpering slightly. She's terrified. I almost feel sorry for her, but she should have thought of that when she threatened my wife. "Good." I smile and wink at her before exiting the same way that I came in.
I only need to remove the hat, sunglasses, and sweatshirt to look like a normal human being again before I enter the house. I saw that Lawrence was in the booth when we arrived, so Butterfly is already here. I wonder how long they've been here and I don't bother stopping to ask him. We enter through the mud room and come in through the back of the house. As I walk through the lower level of the house, I see my wife staring into Atlantis. I take a deep breath and approach her.
"Hey, Baby," I say, walking up to her. She looks at me and frowns. She looks back towards the elevator and back at me.
"Where are you coming from?" she asks. Shit, busted. She must have already known that I wasn't down here.
"Truthfully?" I ask, as I slip my arms around her.
"No, lie to me," she says sarcastically. I sigh.
"I paid a visit to the young Ms. Wilson," I say. It takes a moment to sink in before she says, "Courtney?" I nod. She shakes her head.
"How did that go?"
"I think she's all hot air," I say, "but let's just say she's on notice." She shrugs.
"Well, this should be interesting," she says. "I saw Addie today and she was none too pleased about the information that I gave her concerning her beloved granddaughter."
"Ew," I say.
"Exactly. It escalated quickly and at one point I thought we might come to blows." My eyes narrow.
"You're not serious."
"Yes, I am," she tells me. "But no worries, crisis averted. I just think young Courtney might be in for the surprise of her life."
"She might need it," I say.
"'Might' is not the word," Butterfly says. "Keri had a little breakdown."
"Really?" I ask, furrowing my brow. She nods.
"She's lamenting over when she has to leave," she says. "Apparently, she and Chuck have had the 'coastal relationship' conversation at some point, and hearing him tell Maddie that one day they may get married, just not now, made it very real to her that in a month and a half she's going to have to leave. She was on the covered lounge again, but I made her come inside." Oh boy. I know she told me that because of the whole spanking thing.
"Butterfly…" I lament.
"I just wanted you to know that I wasn't in the cold, okay?" she says, beseeching and dismissing at the same time.
"Okay," I concede. "Where is she now?"
"She's gone to their suite to take a nap. She had a cry out and I suppose she won't be back before dinner."
"Speaking of which," I say, putting my arms around her and my children and kissing her on the temple, "how about we go see how that's coming along and get you and my family fed?" I sigh.
"I'm going to need a nap myself, Christian. I'm mentally and physically exhausted. There's been quite a bit squeezed into this little day." I pull her close to me.
"Then I guess I'll just have to tuck you in, but no sleeping through dinner for you, young lady."
"Yes, sir," she says with a salute before I take her hand and walk her to the elevator.
After Butterfly's nap, we have a very cheerful and jovial dinner, full of laughter and stories of Chuck's childhood. Surprisingly, he and Joseph were good friends as young boys. Unfortunately, Chuck's drinking put the kibosh on that, and we get the feeling that Joseph never forgave him for it. However, that fact that Joseph's bitterness has carried him well into his adult years and cause him to blame Chuck for all of his woes is unreasonable and a cross that Joseph has to bear all on his own.
Keri does eventually join us midway through dinner looking refreshed and vibrant, and she clings to Chuck for the remainder of the evening, much to his delight. Mrs. Davenport often throws inconspicuous smiles and glances in their direction when they exchange affectionate gazes, tender kisses, or gentle strokes of the other's hand. Keri seems to have recovered from her melancholy and appears intent to seize the day with her man. I, of all people, completely understand that concept.
We've all retired back to the family room where Chuck and his parents have spent most of the day. Chuck, Keri, Mrs. Davenport, and my wife are all looking at pictures of Chuck's extended family projected onto the television screen from Mrs. Davenport's email on Butterfly's laptop. Mr. Davenport, however, is not in attendance. I decide to go in search of him, but didn't have to go far. I locate him on the patio just off the family room. After retrieving my bomber jacket from a nearby coat closet, I go out and check on him.
"Are you okay, Mr. Davenport?" I ask. He turns around and I notice that he's smoking a pipe.
"Surely, by now we should be on a first name basis, don't you think?" he says with a raised eyebrow. I shrug one shoulder and walk over to him standing between the crick beams. "I never smoke indoors," he continues. "I don't think anybody else should ever be subjected to my bad habits unless they choose to."
"It doesn't bother me," I tell him.
"I can't thank you enough for what you've done for my boy," Nelson says leaning over that banister.
"He's done far more for me, sir… for my family. He is family now. My wife considers him a brother." I snicker to myself. "I fired him once," I say. His father looks over at me. "My wife and I had a falling out—a bad one—before we got married. She left me. I'm a hothead. I called off the wedding."
"Oh, that one," he says. "We've all had that one."
"So I've heard," I continue. "I fired him for losing sight of her, like it was his fault that she was gone. He took off after her, found her and stayed with her until she decided to come back. They're inseparable." His brow furrows.
"Does that ever worry you?" he asks. I shrug.
"It did, only once, but it's only too clear how they feel about each other. Besides, I have no doubt that my wife adores me as much as I worship her, and Chuck is madly in love with Keri."
"Yeah… Keri," he laments. "Anguilla—she's not a citizen." My brow furrows.
"No…" I say expecting.
"She's going to have to go back. She's going to leave him." Oh, yeah, that. I sigh.
"Yeah," I concur, "none of us are looking forward to that, not even Keri."
"Isn't there something that can be done?" he asks hopeful. "Naturalization or something?"
"There's a lot of things that can be done," I tell him, "but we won't do them unless they say so. Chuck can keep her here on his own if he wants. He has no expenses—besides his little house in Bainbridge. He's paid very well, so most of his money is his own. That's not an issue, but even if it were, we love Keri. We wouldn't hesitate to help them with anything that they needed if that's what they asked, but we won't interfere if they don't." he nods.
"I understand that," he says. "My boy. My boy is alive and doing very well. He has friends and a great life. I've felt so guilty for so many years, that I couldn't help him, that I couldn't save him. It hurt so bad. Joe tried to say that he was protecting us, but he wasn't. He's bitter. He blames Chuckie for everything that went wrong in his life and I have no idea why. Yes, Chuckie ruined the cake at his wedding, but that's the only thing that Chuckie did to Joe… the only thing. The condition of Joe's life before and after Chuckie left was completely Joe. We hurt because we couldn't help him, because we couldn't fix the problem, but the person most hurt by Chuckie's drinking was Chuckie.
"We wanted to help him. We wanted to fix what was wrong, but he went and fixed it on his own. He tried to tell us, and Joe headed him off all these years. All these years we lost…" His voice cracks. "All the pain… We're mourning the death and loss of our son and he was alive all this time." He shakes his head. "I won't ostracize Joe. I don't hate him, but I'll never forgive him for keeping Chuckie from me." I look over at him.
"Try not to hold the grudge too long, sir," I tell him. "The pain will eat you up and it can destroy you." He looks back at me.
"You sound like you speak from experience, son." I nod and look out at the water.
"Unfortunately, I do, sir," I confess. "My wife saved me, taught me a lot, but that kind of pain will make you shut the world out," I add looking over at him. He nods and turns to the lake.
"I'll keep that in mind," he says, with a sigh. "I wish the family could see him. We're close—my siblings, my wife's sisters, Sunny and the kids… They'd be shocked as shit to find out that Chuckie's still alive." Of course, I get an idea as soon as he says that.
"How hard would it be to get them to Seattle?" I ask. He looks at me.
"They don't have money like me, son… or time. They can't just pick up and leave like that," he says somberly.
"Well, what if money wasn't an issue? How many of them do you think we could get here by, say, Christmas?"
"That's four days, Christian!" he exclaims. "Finding flights for these people would be a nightmare! Accommodations this close to Christmas?" He's thinking like a civilian.
"No offense, Nelson, but money talks," I tell him. "I have a private jet that can seat up to sixteen on short notice—more, with slight renovations, but we don't have that kind of time. If we need commercial flights, they're not hard to find as long as you're willing to pay for them. There's not a hotel in Seattle that won't empty every room they have for me. Even down to calling the members of your family and making the arrangements, I have staff for that. All we need is a list and a phone number for everybody that you want to come. You would have to compose a group email and shoot it out to everybody so that they know we'll be contacting them. We can have arrangements for everybody that can make it by the 23rd. Everybody that can't, we'll Skype them in." His eyes grow large, then his shoulders drop.
"I can't ask you to do that," he says.
"You're not asking," I interject. "I'm offering. With everything that you've been through and Chuck's been through, this would be the perfect Christmas gift for him. There's no way I could repay him for what he's done for my family. There's no dollar amount in the world. To me, this is a very small thing to show him what he means to us… how much we appreciate him." His lips form a thin line. He's a man's man and he doesn't like to let his emotions get away from him.
"My son is one lucky fella," he says, smiling a tight smile at me.
"Thank you, sir, but we're the lucky ones."
Nelson and I stand on the patio banging out the details of "Operation Davenport Family Reunion." He's quickly firing off emails to key members of his family that can help contact others while I notify Andrea and Luma that we have a massive undertaking on our hands that involves possibly getting upwards of fifty people into Seattle with accommodations along with a ballroom and a Christmas meal in four days. And this is Saturday night.
Andrea wants to kill me.
We had no idea that we had been standing in the cold for over an hour until Maddie comes outside to ask us what the hell we're doing. My wife is trailing behind her, wrapped tightly in an afghan.
"My phone is going insane, Nelson. Vivian is texting me from Chicago talking about coming here for Christmas! What's going on?" Maddie inquires.
"Ssshhh!" Nelson chides. "Did you say anything in front of Chuckie?"
"No, I came out here to find out what the hell is going on."
"Christian?" My wife says my name in that expecting tone.
"Yes, Butterfly, I'm trying to get his family here for Christmas… the whole family. And it's a surprise," I reveal. Maddie's eyes grow large.
"Christian, that's very nice, but that's a lot of family!" she says. Nelson scoffs, and Maddie looks over at him.
"That little phone in his hand," Nelson begins, pointing at my blackberry, "that little piece of machinery… magic! Magic, I tell you. Mere mortals shouldn't have that kind of power. Get ready, Momma. Christmas is coming to Seattle." Maddie's mouth falls open and Butterfly gingerly places her fingertips over her lips and giggles.
"Santa Claus," I hear her say softly under her breath…
Maddie and I have to occupy Chuck and Keri for another hour while Christian and Nelson conspire to get the Family Davenport to Seattle for Christmas. Magic, indeed! By the time we're saying Goodnight to Mr. and Mrs. Davenport and turning in for the evening, Christian has reserved a block of 25 rooms at the Fairmont Olympic along with the Garden—a 5100-square-foot, multi-level, botanical ballroom—for the main event, including conference Skyping capability for those who won't be able to make it.
The main event will consist of a re-meet and greet for Chuck to get reacquainted with his family followed by a traditional Christmas dinner and dance where the Family Davenport will have a gift exchange. Those who are able will exchange gifts and those who are not will find that Christian has taken care of that problem for them. The morning after Christmas will bring a spectacular brunch—again, in the Garden—before the Davenport family begin to make their way back to their various destinations. The GEH jet and three pilots will leapfrog over the next two days combined with various first-class commercial flights to make sure that everyone that wants to attend will be able to get to Seattle.
Nelson and Andrea have tag-teamed most of the family and those members are in the process of tag-teaming others. Special instructions have been given not to contact Joseph by any means as this is a surprise for Chuck and if Joseph gets wind of it, he's likely to let the cat out of the bag just to be spiteful. By Monday morning, we will have official head counts, travel arrangements, and final preparations for the family reunion. By Tuesday evening, most of the family should actually be in Seattle with the remainder of them arriving on Christmas morning. Christian is so excited that you would think it was his family coming together.
I'm very anxious to get over to the Radcliffs on Sunday afternoon to find out why the deliveries are being denied. This visit is much different than our visit to the Martins last year. It's not a bad neighborhood, but the house is so run down, I don't know how anybody lives in it, much less a newborn. It's my understanding that Mr. Radcliff does have a job, but he just started working, so it's very rough on the family right now, as evidenced by the fact that their phone is disconnected. Christian has to help me up the walkway to the very small stoop that leads to the front door. I have to knock a few times to get an answer. Just as we are about to leave, the door snatches open abruptly and a man in a work uniform with dark hair just stands there looking at us—no greeting, he's just looking at us.
"Mr. Radcliff?" I ask. He narrows his eyes at me.
"Yeah, who wants to know?" he replies, gruffly.
"I'm Anastasia Grey. This is my husband, Christian…" He silences me by putting his hand up.
"Whatever you're selling, we're not buying," he says and begins to close the door.
"Mr. Radcliff!" The force of Christian's voice stops him from closing the door completely. I knew without looking at him that Christian didn't appreciate the tone that he was taking with me. "We're not selling anything. You were chosen by the Greater Seattle Adopt-A-Family Coalition to receive assistance this year for your family. It's our understanding that you have a newborn baby…"
"Anastasia Grey?" I hear Thelma's voice in the background. She comes to the door. My God, I thought I was small. She's a waif of a woman… and she just had a baby?
"Thelma?" I acknowledge her.
"Yes! Hi! It's nice to finally meet you in person." She tries to open the door, but her husband stops her. "Jim, don't be rude. They're here to help."
"You called them?" he asks, anger hidden in his voice.
"I signed up for help with the Coalition months ago. I didn't know that we were still on the list, but thank God we are. We can get some help with food and clothes, maybe get the phone turned back on and some help with the gas bill…"
"You don't have any heat?" I ask.
"Yes, we do, ma'am!" Mr. Radcliff snaps. "I just need to make payments on the bill, that's all." I can feel the tension oozing off of Christian.
"Your wife indicated that you needed help with food," I press.
"We're fine. We don't need your help!" he snaps again. Thelma is trying to silence him, but Christian has had enough.
"Mr. Radcliff," he says through his teeth, "I haven't once disrespected your wife, so I'm going to have to ask you to watch your tone with mine." Mr. Radcliff's eyes narrow again, this time at Christian.
"We can alleviate that problem right now, Mr. Grey!" he hisses. He slams the door so hard in our faces that all of the windows in the front of the house shake. Thelma can be heard yelling at her husband, asking why he would turn away help that was right there in front of them. He just barks that he doesn't need help and he can take care of his own family. Christian and I stand on the porch and listen to them argue back and forth about how they're starving and soon will be in a cold house. He's still trying to convince his wife that they just need a little time and they'll be back on their feet again. We hear the baby start crying and Thelma's voice gets faint as she goes to the back of the house to try to calm his cries.
"What kind of man is that?" Christian asks enraged. "They're starving! They have no way to call for help if there's an emergency! Pretty soon, they're going to be in the cold and he just slammed the door on the answer to his troubles!"
"You don't know what's happening, Christian. We don't know the whole story," I try to defend.
"I don't need to know the whole story. I know pride and ego when I see it! I wrote the goddamn book. He's willing to allow his wife and child to die in there if it means that he doesn't have to accept help from someone else. What kind of husband and father would let his family starve and freeze to death so that his pride can stay intact?" There's a loud bang on the wall from inside the house.
"Get the fuck off my porch! You're trespassing!" Mr. Radcliff's voice reverberates through the paper thin walls. Christian response with a louder bang of his own that causes the windows to vibrate again.
"You got it, you selfish asshole!" he yells back.
"Christian!" I scold. He turns his glare to me.
"You're a doctor. There's a child suffering in there. You have to do something about it." He silently turns and walks off the porch. Jason walks up to the porch and holds his hand out to me. I take his hand and he helps me down the stairs.
"You know he's right," Jason says, matter-of-factly.
"I know," I respond as he helps me to the car. This is a topic that is very near to Christian's heart and he can't tolerate seeing a child suffer in any way. Neither can I, but I'm tormented by taking a child away from his mother—especially one where I can see that his mother is trying to get help.
The rest of the day is fitful. I'm trying my best to find another way to help Thelma and the baby even if her husband won't allow it. There's no way to do it as long as she's in the house with him. I even ask Grace for help, for some kind of guidance that won't result in Thelma losing her baby right before Christmas—or ever, if it can be avoided. Grace and I both regretfully come to the same conclusion. If James Radcliff won't allow his wife and children the help they need to survive, one of us will have to contact Child Protective Services. Dealing with a man with such a volatile temper, we may have to call the police as well.
Monday morning, I'm sitting in my office at Helping Hands still pondering what—if anything—I can do to spare Thelma from the heartbreak that I'm about to bring upon her. I still have SUV's full of clothes for her and the baby. I have gift cards that they could have used for appliances or even to pay the bills. I brought the food here to the shelter since I didn't want it to go to waste. I have the furniture deliveries at the Crossing and at stores just waiting to know where they should go. I was supposed to be her savior and now, I'm going to be her worst nightmare. I screw up my courage and dial the number for child services.
"Anastasia, you're needed in the community room."
I'm both perturbed and relieved for the interruption over the intercom. Maybe I can wait until after Christmas… no. No, I can't let that baby suffer another day. I've already allowed this to go on one day too long. Christian's right. I'm a doctor and I'm bound by my oath and profession—not to mention my conscience—to report something like this when I see it. I won't stall another second… well, maybe just one more second while I see what's going on in the community room. My heart is heavy as I travel the short distance down the hallway. When I get to the community room, I see a sight that nearly brings me to tears.
"Thelma!" I nearly shriek.
She turns around to face me. She's shivering and she looks more sickly than she did yesterday… and she's been crying—still not battered or beaten, but tired and peaked. Her frail little boy is sucking hungrily on a bottle, one that came from the pantry here at the center.
"I… I…" She can barely get her words out. I lead her to a seat and she nearly falls into it. I take the baby from her weak little arms and continue to feed him.
"My… my milk stopped," she weeps. "I couldn't feed him anymore. J-Jim wouldn't listen to me. Is my baby okay?" I look over at Marilyn.
"Go get Grace. Now!" She's gone is two seconds.
"I'm so hungry," she says through her tears.
"When is the last time you've eaten?" I ask her.
"I don't know," she says at first. "Potato chips… yesterday for breakfast."
"Rachel!" I call to the relief worker that paged me.
"Yes, Ana?" She comes over to us, a concerned look in her eye.
"Please, go quickly. Get a bowl of soup and a turkey sandwich for Thelma." She nods and runs off to the cafeteria. "Thelma, why wouldn't he let you get help? Are you being abused?" She shakes her head.
"No," she says. "He doesn't hit me. He's just proud—very proud. I couldn't take it anymore. I'm hungry and sick all the time, and now I can't produce any milk for my son."
"Because you're not eating enough," I warn her. "You can't feed him if you don't eat." Marilyn comes back into the room with Grace. She looks from Thelma to me and then at the child in my arms.
"Grace, this is Thelma Radcliff and this is…"
"Jimmy," she says softly, her voice almost gone. Grace looks at Jimmy slurping hungrily on the bottle and holds her arms out for him. I put him in her arms and she continues to feed him.
"Well, hello, Jimmy," she says sweetly. "How old is Jimmy, Thelma?"
"Four weeks," she says weakly. Rachel finally comes back with the food I sent her for.
"Eat slowly, Thelma," I tell her. "Take a bite of the sandwich and then some of the soup." She nods and takes a small bite of the sandwich, then some of the soup.
"He's a little light, Thelma," Grace says, "but other than that, he looks pretty healthy." She nods. "Do you mind if I sit down and take a closer look at him?"
"Not…" She clears her throat. Her voice is barely there. "Not at all. Please, do," she replies. Grace smiles kindly and sits at a table, unwrapping the baby and looking closer at him.
"I did what I could until… the milk stopped." Thelma takes another bite of the sandwich, almost too weak to chew. I listen to her as I watch Grace give instructions to Rachel. I hope the baby is alright.
"What are you going to do now?" I ask her. I need to know what's going to happen to this baby. She shakes her head.
"I don't know," she says. "I can't take Jimmy back there." A single tear falls from her eye. "I can't feed him anymore. If you can't take me, will you please take Jimmy? Don't let him die."
My heart breaks immediately. I was just about to call Child Protective Services on this young mother who now sits here willing to give her child away to strangers if they just feed him and don't let him die. I want to find her selfish, proud husband and beat his ass with a baseball bat. Rachel returns with Grace's doctor bag and one of our baby starter kits—fresh diaper, wipes, onesie, bib, sleeper, cap, and receiving blanket.
"We'll take you both, Thelma," Grace says, from across the room while she's examining Jimmy. "We'll take care of you, okay?" Thelma breaks down into heart-wrenching sobs.
"Thank you…" she chokes, "thank you…"
"I need you to calm down and eat. Get something in your system. Maybe we can get your milk flowing again, and if not, then don't worry. There's plenty here for you and for Jimmy, okay?" She nods gratefully, continuing to eat her sandwich and soup. Grace has finished changing his clothes and is now burping little Jimmy since he has finished his bottle. She has checked his stomach and his diaper area. His clothes were tattered and stained, but all in all, he looks pretty good.
"You've done a wonderful job not to have had many resources, Thelma," Grace tells her. "Jimmy is not sickly or malnourished. He's a little small, but we'll get him on a regular feeding schedule and he'll be right as rain… and you, too." She gives Thelma that kind smile that she gives you that makes you know all will be well in the world.
"I still have all those things Christian and I bought for you, Thelma," I tell her. "The food is here, but I still have everything else. You finish eating, we'll get you guys settled and you can decide what you want to do from there." She smiles a deep sad smile.
"When I saw you on TV, I thought that they were just using you to get donations. I even saw you in that abuse commercial. I didn't think it was real. I thought this place was front for… whatever. I was going to just ask you if you could just take my baby and…" She chokes up again, but quickly composes herself. "But now, I see you're real. You're a real person, not just some rich housewife looking for some camera time."
"Yes, I'm real," I tell her. "And I was really abused. I'm a psychologist if you need to talk, and I need you to know that being abused doesn't always mean that you have to be hit. It could be a harsh word, or living in fear, or being deprived of basic necessities like food." She shakes her head.
"He's not a cruel man," she says, "but I trusted him. He said that he would take care of us and I trusted him. I followed him, I did what he told me to do. I didn't cross him, but when things got rough, he wouldn't let me get help and I don't know why. I was pregnant… I was eligible for everything, but he wouldn't hear of it. We're swamped in medical bills because he wouldn't let me apply for medical assistance for me and the baby. We were eligible for food stamps, monetary assistance, housing assistance, everything, but he wouldn't let me apply."
"Well, you're going to apply for all of those things now," I tell her. "You have to, Thelma. You've got to take care of Jimmy. Once you're approved, the state will retroactively pay your medical bills associated with your pregnancy." Her eyes widen.
"They will?" she asks. I nod.
"Yes, they will, and they'll help you with housing and food and child care and to get a job or go to school."
"School? They'll help me with school?" Now we've hit a nerve. I nod.
"Yes, they will. And once you find a place, we still have a boatload of furniture that needs to be delivered." Her bottom lip starts to tremble.
"He told me that if anything was in the house from you guys when he got home, he was throwing it all out," she says sadly. "He would have let us die rather than let me get help for us." She looks down at her food and defiantly takes a huge bite of what is left of the sandwich. Good for you, Thelma! Gobble it up!
"He's clean," Grace tells me in a soft voice, gently rocking a now sleeping Jimmy, "really very healthy for her not to be getting the nourishment that she needs."
"Please," Thelma calls out to us, "don't keep anything from me. Tell me the truth. Tell me all of it. If you have to call the police, I understand." I frown. This woman has been through physical and emotional hell. I've just inherited a patient.
"No, Thelma," I say, sitting down and taking her hand. "The truth that we need to tell you is that we need to get you well. Little Jimmy there is just as healthy as he can be, and I have no idea how you did it in the conditions that you were in. It's amazing, but you… Thelma, you're pale, your skin is dry, your hair looks like straw, your nails… You had a baby less than a month ago. What's your normal pre-baby body weight?" She shrugs.
"Um, 140, 145, I think," she guesses.
"You might be 120," I tell her. Her eyes widen.
"That's impossible," she says.
"Totally possible," I tell her. "When is the last time you've had a full meal?" She thinks about it. The fact that she has to think about it disgusts me. Thank God Christian isn't here to see this. I have a feeling that there would be a certain husband unconscious in the snow right now.
"It doesn't matter," I tell her. "A drastic dieter can lose 15 pounds the first month of dieting. Don't underestimate the body's ability to lose weight." She looks over at her sleeping baby, then down at her empty bowl.
"Would you like more?" Grace asks. She looks at her like a grateful child.
"Yes, please," she says, softly.
Marilyn and Ben correspond with security to get a few of the items for Thelma and the baby delivered to Helping Hands so that they can have some fresh clothes, toiletries, and personal items here. I got her and the baby settled in one of the dorms tell her to relax for a while. We'll get her paired up with the social worker later in the afternoon to get the ball rolling on the state services that she would need. If I thought that would be the most dramatic thing that would happen today, I was sorely mistaken.
"So what do I have to do to make this all go away?"
I get back to my office after getting Thelma and Jimmy squared away only to find Courtney standing defiantly in front of my desk.
"What are you doing here?" I say, almost forlorn. I thought I was done with her. She doesn't want my help… or guidance… or whatever it is that I thought I was trying to do. So why is she back here?
"My grandmother's not speaking to me. At all! She hasn't spoken to me for two days! I figure this must be your doing." My doing? My doing. This couldn't possibly be anything that you did, huh?
"Then you send your husband to accost me in the ladies' room at the Hookah Bar on Saturday night…" The ladies' room? Does my husband have a thing with the ladies' room? I frown at her.
"Look, I don't know what they're putting in hookah these days, but my husband and I were entertaining out-of-town guests and planning a massive Christmas party on Saturday night," I tell her. It's not a lie. That's what we were doing.
"Yeah, he said you'd say that," she says, folding her arms and leaning on my desk. "So like I said, what the hell do I have to do to make this shit go away?"
"I don't know," I say, walking around to my chair. "Maybe you should talk to your grandmother, but the very first thing you should do is get the fuck off my desk!" She stands up at my sharp tone, her brow furrowed.
"You won, Ms. Do-Gooder," she mocks. "I'm at your beck and call. Now all I want is to get this shit over and get you off my back, so what do you want?" I put my hands on my desk.
"I don't know what you think I want, but I want the same thing that I wanted the last time that you stood in that doorway and that's for you to get the fuck out of my office," I say with a frown. She looks at me gaped-mouthed.
"This is a joke, right?" she says, and she looks and sounds appalled. "You wanted me to heel, so I heeled! You conspired with my grandmother and I don't know what your plan is now, but she's never given me the silent treatment, so it has to be you! Then your husband shows up like some kind of henchman and traps me in the bathroom against the wall with his hand around my neck telling me what I can learn from the all-seeing, all-knowing Anastasia Grey…" My God, Christian can be so dramatic. "… And now I come here trying to find out the purpose of this goddamn exercise, and you act like you have no fucking clue what I'm talking about!"
I sit down and fold my arms. Apparently, Adelaide has had enough of her spoiled granddaughter and whatever she plans to do, if she plans to do anything, she's going to do it in utter silence. The not knowing is driving Courtney up a wall. Couple that with the fact that Christian cornered her in the bathroom—no doubt to school her on the woes of threatening his wife, something that she hasn't even mentioned in this conversation—and the only things she garnered from any of this is that this entire exercise meant that she needed to come to me and be my indentured servant for an undisclosed period of time until I tell her grandmother that she's being a good little girl. What's worse is that if that were the case, she doesn't have the decency to be contrite about it.
"What in the name of all that is good and holy is it going to take for you to understand that the world does not revolve around your ass?" I scoff at her. "I'm done with this. I've had enough of you. If you want to be a useless sack of water with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, then so be it. I washed my hands of you last week. You say that my husband mysteriously slipped away from our company and party planning and visited you in the restroom at the hookah lounge…" I say the last part in a very mocking and disbelieving tone, "… well, what did he say? I have a hard time believing that he told you to come back here and see me after I told him that you threatened me! I don't see him telling the person who wants to cause me harm to come back to me so that I could possibly do them some good, but that's neither here nor there at this point, because it's not like I would believe any fucking thing that came out of your mouth!"
"It's true!" she wails. "I'm not making this up!"
"Yeah, and I'm secretly a biker chick at night," I say sarcastically. Close… a Domme, not a biker chick… and only for one submissive. "What will it possibly take for you to see that human suffering does not begin and end at your feet? That you don't have the fucking answers to every goddamn equation in the world? That rainbows and sunshine don't originate from your eyeballs and terminate at your asshole? What is it going to take, Courtney? Is it going to take you having to get your ass on a bus back to Pawsawacky or whatever hickfuck town you came from back east, because that's where your grandmother is headed, I can guarantee you. That's probably why she's not speaking to you. She's probably tired of you knowing every goddamn thing and having it all figured out, being so fucking rebellious that nobody can tell you shit."
Her eyes grow large at the revelation that Addie is considering sending her back to her parents. I never knew exactly where she came from because I'm not really interested, but apparently, returning to her hometown is a fate worse than death.
"You're lying!" she exclaims. "She would never really send me back to that place!"
"I don't give a flying fuck what you believe right now!" I shoot, my eyes blazing. "Go! Be free! Live your life! Do what the fuck you want! Inherit your millions; spend them; bathe in them; burn them, for all I care! Or go back to East Whereverthefuckyoucamefrom and flip burgers and fries in some obscure corner of the world. I don't care! Just take your self-centered, broken, irreparable ass out of my sight! I don't want to be around you. I don't care what you do. I don't give a fuck anymore! I don't know why you're here! This is not a conspiracy. This not a trick, a plan, or a plot to try to get you to behave. I don't care, Courtney Wilson! I really don't care! I want you to go the fuck away, and don't come back. You're not needed or wanted here. Go away!"
I'm screaming at her now. My voice brings Grace to my office door and she falls into stunned silence when she sees who I'm talking to. Courtney gazes at me and I swear she looks like she's hurt, but I can't feel her pain. She's selfish and wicked and evil and I just want her out of here!
"You don't have to talk to me like that…" she says, her voice small.
"Shut up!" I scream. "Just shut up! Your voice hurts my ears! Just leave! Just go! Go now! Tell Addie whatever you want. Tell her I failed. Tell her I'm useless. Tell her I had a nervous breakdown. Tell her my head exploded. Tell her whatever the fuck you want, just get the hell out of my office and don't come back." She stands there stunned, looking at me like she doesn't know what to do. "Get out, now!" I scream, standing from my chair and pointing at the door. She bolts for the door, crying like I had hit her.
Good fucking riddance!
I stand at my desk, breathing like I've just run a marathon. I hear something sounding like it's banging against something, but I don't know what it is. My head is thumping and I immediately know that my blood pressure it up. Dammit! Right when Dr. Culley cleared me…
I hear the banging, rumbling sound again, but it must be my head. I can hear Grace tell someone to get me some water.
"Are you okay, Ana?" she asks.
"I'm fine," I say, taking deep breaths. "Whoever's bringing that water, have them bring me some gold compresses and ice water in a bowl." After a few moments, some cold drinks and a few cold compresses, I finally manage to get the inner heat down a bit, but I'm still worried about what that rumbling I hear in my head until Grace says, "What's that noise?" I look at her.
"You hear it, too?" I ask. She looks at me and immediately goes in search of the noise. Just as she points to my locked desk drawer, Marilyn and Ben both bend into the office and ask simultaneously, "Ana, where's your phone?"
As I fumble to get the desk drawer open, I realize that the rumble was my phone. Somehow, it had been inadvertently set on vibrate, which is why I couldn't hear it ringing. When I pull it out, eight missed calls from a certain copper-haired god. Oh, boy. Just as I'm about to dial him back, the phone starts vibrating again.
"Hello?" My voice is strained.
"Jesus, Ana, what the fuck?" My husband is not pleased.
"It was on vibrate. I didn't know," I whine. "Where's the fire?"
"Yours first, I know you had one."
"Mine was Courtney. She's gone now."
"Okay, that's a fire, but we'll discuss it later. Mine is bigger."
"What's your fire?
"James Radcliff."
"Boy, that Keri is a godsend," Nelson says. "She knows what Chuckie needs before he even asks for it. He's been wobbling around here on those crutches all day. I'm thinking about hiding that wheelchair from him. I don't think he needs it anymore. I know it's not for me to say, though. He needs to hurry up and marry that Keri, though. He's gonna be lost without her."
"I can't argue with you there," I tell him. "How the operation coming along?"
"Fine so far. Nobody's let the cat out of the bag yet. Joe's sulking because we're spending Christmas with Chuckie and not him. He'd better be lucky we're not moving to the west coast after this stunt!"
Nelson is very angry with his son, but then again, I would be, too.
"Anyway, we've got a few coming in tonight, Chuckie's aunts and uncles and a few of his cousins. The rest should be here tomorrow. No contingencies yet, so here's hoping."
"And Chuck is none the wiser?" I ask.
"Not for a second," he says. "He just thinks his mom and the old man are sticking around for a week to catch up on old times." Jason sticks his head in the door, frowning. I know this can't be good.
"Well, that's good to know. It's looks like something just popped up her, Nelson, so I'm going to have to cut this conversation short. Make sure you call me if you need anything and if you can't reach me, call Andrea, again."
"Oh, no problem, Christian. Thanks again!" he says and ends the call.
"What's going on?" I ask Jason.
"I was on my way to the cafeteria for a soda and I got a call. The police are in the lobby." Fuck! Are you kidding me? Which one of my catastrophes is blowing up in my face now?
"Why?" I say, coming from behind my desk, intent for the elevator.
"That family we visited yesterday," he begins, falling in line behind me.
"Ramsey?" I step into the elevator. Jason gets in and presses the lobby floor.
"Radcliff. He's down there raving something about his wife?"
"Shit. What the fuck?"
The elevator doors open and Jason and I step out find Radcliff and two flatfoots standing in the lobby. Shit, I fucking hate cops and they don't like me, either.
"That's him!" Radcliff rants, pointing at me. "Where's my wife, you asshole?" I frown hard at them. What the fuck is this?
"Mr. Radcliff, please," one of the officers says calmly. He turns to me. "Forgive the intrusion, Mr. Grey…"
I'm immediately taken aback. Kindness? From law enforcement? Towards me? Jason is equally shocked. Okay, I can cooperate… with him.
"Can you please tell me what this is about, officer?" I say as politely as I can.
"You know what it's about, fucker. Where the fuck is my wife?" Radcliff demands.
"Mr. Radcliff, I won't ask you again," the officer says, his voice calm and he stares at Radcliff, who only glares at me. "Mr. Radcliff!" He finally turns his glare to the officer. "Do you want to leave here in cuffs?"
"Why are you treating me this way? He's the criminal!" Radcliff barks.
"Because you won't listen, you're acting irrational, and we haven't established that he's done anything wrong. Now are you going to be quiet and let me do my job or do want to leave here in cuffs?"
Radcliff is not the type of man who likes to take down to anyone. I can respect that in a man, but if you choose to be cocky, know when to use it; and by all means; have the authority and the power it back it up. This asshole has neither.
"That's not a rhetorical question, Mr. Radcliff," the officer repeats waiting for an answer.
"I'll let you do your job," he says begrudgingly, under his breath. We all notice that he didn't say that he was going to be quiet.
"Thank you," the officer says. "After all, you did call us." He commands this bully with a quiet authority, and I know almost immediately that although we saw no immediate signs of abuse on her yesterday, this man's wife has left him.
"Again, Mr. Grey, our apologies for the intrusion. I'm Officer Lockhart and that's Officer Santiago. Mr. Radcliff here says that he came home from work for lunch and his wife and child were missing. He seems to think you may know something about it."
"I assure you that I don't," I tell him. "The last time I saw this guy or his wife, I and my wife were trying to bring them food and clothing for Christmas and he turned us away!" I say, throwing my hand at the bullying bastard. "No offense, but do you normally take someone's word who just blindly accuses someone of something like this?"
"This is very serious, Mr. Grey. We have to follow every lead, sir." I kind of nod.
"Well, I guess you do. Let me call my wife and see if she knows anything." I pull out my phone.
"Probably calling to tip her off," Radcliff says under his breath. I frown at him again. What does he think, that someone has his wife and kid tied up in a basement somewhere? I look bewildered at the Lockhart, who just rolls his eyes. I can tell that he knows this is a useless endeavor, but he has to follow through.
"Call your wife, Mr. Grey," Lockhart says. I shake my head and dial Butterfly. It rings and goes to voice mail. I end the call and dial again—same thing. I look up at Jason as I'm calling a third time.
"What is it, Boss?" he asks.
"She's not answering," I tell him as I call her a fourth time. "Call upstairs and have Andrea call Marilyn." He's dialing Andrea and I'm getting more and more agitated as I try to reach wife. This is not the time to play hide and seek, Butterfly.
"Ben, where the hell is Ana?" I hear Jason say as I'm dialing Butterfly again, and again. "Well, go fucking find her. The boss is about to have a conniption." He ends the call. "He says she's been at the center all day. He's going to get her now. She's in her office with Grace."
"Shit, Mom!" Why didn't I think of Mom? "Call Mom!" I say, dialing Butterfly's number again.
"Hello?" Her soft, strained voice answers and I'm both relieved and pissed off.
"Jesus, Ana, what the fuck?" is all I can say
"It was on vibrate. I didn't know. Where's the fire?" she defends, sounding like a petulant child. I ask about her fire first and she tells me that the Melon Bitch showed up. Okay, we'll have to cross that bridge later. Right now, I've got an angry bully, selfish ass husband in my lobby and I'm trying not to end up in front of Judge Hammer-Ass again, so we need to cut to the chase.
"He's in my damn building with the police and he's under the impressed that I know where his wife is."
"Is that so?" she says. She's not surprised. "He's there with the police you say?"
"Uh, yeah." She knows something.
"Put me on speaker, please." Oh, hell. This is going to be good. I put the phone on speaker.
"You're on, baby."
"Can you hear me?" she asks.
"Loud and clear," I respond.
"Can everybody hear me? Officers?" The cops look at each other, at Radcliff—who shrugs, and at my phone.
"Um, yes ma'am," Lockhart says. "To whom am I speaking?"
"My name is Dr. Anastasia Steele-Grey," she begins. "Thelma Radcliff came to my Center this morning, begging me to take her child because she is living in a house with no heat, no electricity, no phone, and no food. She's been doing the best that she could for as long as she could, but this morning, her milk stopped producing so she couldn't feed her baby anymore. Both I and the director here are doctors and have established that both Thelma and James Radcliff Jr are undernourished and Thelma's case is severe. Her body has started to break down muscle tissue for food, she's dangerously small to have just given birth and she should really be in the hospital."
"So you took my wife?" Radcliff accuses.
"Do you have wax in your ears?" I ask. "Didn't you just hear her say your wife came to the center because you kept her in a house with no heat, no lights, no phone, and no food? Was I the only one who heard that?" Lockhart starts taking notes.
"So your wife is affiliated with a charity?" he asks.
"Helping Hands," I tell him. "She's the assistant director." He looks and points his pen at me.
"Oh, yeah," he says, "I know who she is. She was in a really bad accident a little while back." I nod.
"Yes, sir, but she's much better now."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. So this charity—is that how Mrs. Radcliff found you?" Lockhart asks.
"Not initially," I say. "We're members of the Greater Seattle Adopt-A-Family Coalition. Families in need apply to be adopted each year and the members and the chosen families are matched randomly. Mrs. Grey and I were matched with the Radcliffs."
"I called Thelma a couple of weeks back when they still had a phone to arrange for the deliveries—furniture, appliances, clothing, food—even gift cards for department stores and cash cards for necessities… like heat!" Butterfly chimes in. Every man in the room throws a dirty look at Radcliff, but he's oblivious to everything anyone says or does and is convinced that one of us kidnapped his wife. "When I spoke to her, I gave her my contact information at Helping Hands. That's what led her here. It turns out that Mr. Radcliff turned away every delivery that we sent to the house and when we showed up yesterday to personally bring food and clothes, he turned us away, too."
"Thank you, Dr. Steele-Grey. That's what we needed," Lockhart says.
"I'm coming down there to get my wife and son!" Radcliff barks. I clench my fist. Who the fuck is he yelling at?
"That's completely up to Thelma, Mr. Radcliff. She came on her own free will and she can leave on her own free will," Butterfly retorts.
"Well, I'm coming to get 'em now, and you better have 'em ready for me when I get there!" One… two… three…
"I'm not going to have anything ready for you, sir!" she hisses back at him. "I don't know who you're accustomed to speaking to that way, but you don't order me to do anything because I am not your child. I'm glad you're bringing the police with you, Mr. Radcliff, because if you come down here causing a disruption in this Center, I will not hesitate to have you arrested!"
"You talk all that shit now, but…" I immediately take the phone off speaker and bring it back to my ear, never taking my eyes off Radcliff.
"I'm on my way, baby," I tell her.
"I know," she says calmly. "I'll see you when you get here. Love you."
"Love you, too." I end the call and glare at Radcliff. "I told you already that I didn't disrespect your wife and you will not disrespect mine. Now, do you have anything that you need to say to me, Mr. Radcliff?" I say the entire speech through clenched teeth and growl his name at the end.
I don't know what my voice, stance, or demeanor says, but there are four other men in this room—not including the guards at the security desk—and none of them move a muscle. Nobody breathes waiting to see what this fucker is going to do or say. He pushed my hot button and I glare unblinking at him. You used the wrong tone, the wrong words, and the wrong demeanor with my goddess. I will fuck you up and leave you for dead.
Hammer-Ass, here I come.
I see a once tall-standing, loud-mouthed, bully sweating at the end of a tunnel. He's not saying a word, but buckets of water are rolling off his brow. Through the haze of red and heat and anger, I hear Jason's voice floating towards me.
"Boss? Boss? Boss? Boss?…" He's going to keep calling me until I acknowledge him.
"What?" I say, barely recognizing my own voice—low, grumbling… like a bear.
"Let's go, Boss. Anastasia is waiting." He says her whole name. He did that on purpose. It calms me a bit, but not much.
"Officers," I growl. "I'll take you to my wife." My eyes never leave the sweating, blinking bully. I hear a soft voice behind me.
"Mr. Grey?"
I finally break my gaze to see Andrea standing there with my black wool coat and briefcase. Jason takes my coat from her and helps me into it and I take my briefcase.
"Thank you, Andrea," I say, my voice softer and walk out the front door with Jason without making eye contact with Radcliff for fear that I might leave him face down in the snow.
A/N: Ana's "Santa Claus" comment was a memory recall moment, in case you guys missed it. If you recall, Christian bought Ana a tiara in Paging Dr. Steele and when she opened it, she said, "Oh my God, I'm dating Santa Claus." I like to throw those in every now and again.
Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc., can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/becoming-dr-grey/
You can join my mailing list on the "Contact Me" page. Just click the link and it will lead you to a form to join the list.
Love and handcuffs 🙂
Lynn X


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The Legend Of Stiffy GreenLocal folklore has it that Highland Lawn Cemetery is haunted by a dog nicknamed Stiffy Green. According to legend, when John G. Heinhl died in 1921, his loyal pet bulldog refused to leave his side, even after Heinhl was placed in the family mausoleum. The dog growled at anyone who approached, and stood guard by the burial site until his death. The bulldog was then stuffed and had green glass eyes added (real eyes dry out) and placed inside the mausoleum so that he visible through the entrance grate. When curious visitors shined flashlights through the door, the dog's fake green eyes would light up. This earned the dog the nickname of "Stiffy Green". Stories also abound of people who have heard a dog barking in the distance when they approach the Heinhl mausoleum. A little research indicates that the Stiffy Green legend is just that. The truth is that the dog in the mausoleum had merely been a concrete statue that belonged to Mr. Heinhl and had stood on the front porch of his home. Don't bother looking for old Stiffy Green if you happen to visit Highland Lawn Cemetery. He's not there anymore. He was moved to a replica of the Heinhl mausoleum at the County Historical Museum in Terre Haute after teenagers shot bullets into the actual mausoleum in the 1980s and shot out one of the statue's green eyes. Still, if you want to have a look at the Heinhl mausoleum, it's picture #5 in the set below.
Martin Sheets And His TaphophobiaBefore he died in 1910, Martin Sheets, a Terre Haute businessman, had a phobia of being buried alive. Thanks to the invention of the telephone, Sheets was able to somewhat alleviate this fear by arranging to have a phone with an active line placed with his mausoleum once he passed away and made arrangements in his will to pay for the line for many years after his death. His tomb was also constructed in such a way that that he could open it from inside if he needed to. The phone was also set up that a light would turn on in the Highland Lawn Cemetery office when the mausoleum phone was lifted, even if no words were spoken. Of course, the light never came on and the direct line to the cemetery office was eventually removed. However, the actual phone line remained live as long as the money from Sheets' will paid the bill. Legend has it that several years later, Sheets' widow was found dead laying on her bed with a telephone receiver clutched in her hand and a look of terror frozen on her face. She was placed in the mausoleum next to her husband and, when the cemetery workers entered the tomb, they noticed that Martin's phone was off the hook. You'll see a picture of the Sheets mausoleum in picture #4 in the set below.
Highland Lawn Cemetery, a set on Flickr.

subset: commoncrawl


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September 30, 1951 - February 15. 2017
Monticello, NY
Barbara Anita Johnson of Monticello, a former housekeeping employee of the Concord Resort Hotel, died Wednesday, February 15, 2017 at the Orange Regional Medical Center in Middletown. She was 65.
The daughter of the late Samuel Merillo and Anita Gols Merillo, she was born September 30, 1951 in Staten Island.
Barbara was known for her tenacity. Everything she had she fought for. As a widowed mother of three rambunctious boys she could not afford to let any opportunity for a better life pass her by. That fighting spirit served her well and set a high standard for her family to follow. Barbara also never turned down a chance to lend a helping hand; from stray pets to lost souls no one was ever turned away. You would be hard pressed to find someone who has met Barbara and was not inspired by her.
She is survived by three sons: James Johnson, Jesse Johnson and Gunner Johnson; grandchildren: James Johnson, Dominique Johnson, Destiny Johnson, Kathlynn Johnson, Jesse Johnson and an unborn grandson, Gunner Dominick Johnson; her companion: Paul Sands; brothers and sisters: Samuel Merillo, Tony Merillo, Anita Merillo, George Merillo and Annie Bell. She was predeceased by her husband, James Johnson; brother, Victor Merillo; and sisters Rosemary Merillo and Wilma Merillo Primont.
Visitation will be held on Saturday, February 18 from 12 to 2 p.m. at the VanInwegen Kenny Funeral Home, 401 Broadway in Monticello with a funeral service starting at 2 p.m. Cremation will follow the services.
Memorial contributions can be made to Orange Regional Medical Center www.ormc.org/charitable-giving/online-donations.aspx
Arrangements are under the direction of the VanInwegen-Kenny, Inc. Funeral Home of Monticello NY; for additional information or to send an online condolence, please visit www.kennyfuneralhome.com


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I have a tendency to pronate my feet and have my arches collapse down a little when I'm fatigued. Luckily, my trainer Donnie and I have worked very hard to make all my stabilizer muscles stronger so that doesn't happen over the last year of continuous training. But over 20-30 miles? Yeah, that's tiring for all those little muscles. Basically... I end up running a little knock-kneed when I'm tired!
|See, this zebra probably just ran 30 miles. Look at his poor knees!
So with that background, here's what taper and race preparations for shooting for a big time goal have been like this go-around, for this race (because I do race quite a lot compared to a lot of runners), for the two weeks leading up to the race...
- I'M INJURED - That darn aching knee!
Emotionally: Here's the place to emotionally freak out and fall apart. And it sounds a little something like this... I race a lot more than other people. People like to watch others fail. Everyone's sitting around waiting and begging for an overuse injury from me, from everyone, it's not even personal to me, and then they can all point fingers and say "See? She was doing too many races. See! I told you so. See! That wouldn't happen to ME."
Yeah, that's so NOT pretty to say.
Analytically: This is about me. Not about other people's hang-ups about themselves. And the whole thing is... I don't have an overuse injury. I'm hyper-sensitive to things that feel off, and I'm catching this before it gets bad. I'm not actively running through uncomfortableness these last 2 weeks. 3 chiropractor visits in the 2 weeks leading up to race day. Support kinesiotaping on Thursday to head into Saturday's race. I'm foam rolling (which is painful with my fibromyalgia but good to know on my anterior tibialis to help the knee get better) and using contrast heat and icing. I'm doing everything to get 100% by race day.
- I'M OUT OF SHAPE - I ran right around 6 miles last week. I haven't run yet this week. Oh, nevermind that part where I ran 31 miles 10 days ago.
Emotionally: I'm obviously completely out of shape - my lungs have shut down, my heart's filled with slow-moving sludge, and my muscles have evaporated.
Analytically: No one loses significant fitness in 10 days, and I'm actually letting my posterior tibialis recover so I DON'T go into this race risking injury.
- I'VE TURNED TO FLAB - I'm up 4 pounds from a month ago. When I direct a race, I tend to throw myself 100% into it the last 3 weeks and my stress reactions naturally are not to eat, drink, or sleep. Rather than "stress-starve", I tried to focus on eating through preparations for The Showdown Half Marathon. So instead I was stress-eating.
Emotionally: There's no way I can hold PR pace carrying a WHOLE EXTRA FOUR POUNDS for 31 miles!!! And that 4 pounds gained is 100% fat, while the rest of my body in the last 10 days has also been turning completely to fat, so now I'm this big flabby mess.
Analytically: It's really hard to fight the numbers (said the mathematician). So I demanded my trainer Donnie take body fat measurements on Monday. And while he knew there was no rational reason, he sweetly did it anyway. 7 point skinfold measurements with the caliper and my body fat % hasn't really moved, and in fact, Donnie continues to notice that it's easier to get the pinch for each measure, to "pick the skin off", which is a sign of continued fat loss.
- I CAN'T DO THIS! Yes, taper brings out the big wimp in me. A total lack of confidence.
Emotionally: A big part of me still thinks my race where I had a big 50K PR at a month ago must have been 4 miles short! ;-)
Analytically: I did a 7:18 in very rooty terrain with hot and humid racing conditions. Rocky should be better terrain and conditions. To regain confidence, my trainer Donnie, who has a degrees in sports psychology I'll add, has had me bench-pressing the last two weeks. You know, since you might have to lay flat on your back and push something away with your chest muscles in the middle of the race. Uh, no! It's a visible strength marker. Seeing the plates, the heft of the bar, and then getting it done at 75, 85, or 95 lbs... it makes me feel strong, in a way that's so much less obvious in an endurance event like ultramarathons. It has been such good medicine for me that I think I want it to always be a part of my taper plans!
- I SHOULD BE ABLE TO RUN THIS IN MY SLEEP. My "A" Goal for this race will have to mean that everything's going right. There's no room for error, for things to be a little "off", or for hesitations.
Emotionally: When pushing and in pain, life becomes one big "just get to the next aid station" in an ultra. So shouldn't you know where the next aid station is? And when you want to wimp out, you want to be able to turn back on yourself and say, "Look, this is the hardest part of the course. There's a nice worn non-rooty Jeep fire road coming up!"
Analytically: Preparation makes perfect. I know that approximately 80 25K runners will probably catch me and pass me in miles 12-15 so I'll lose time there. Rereading last year's race report reminds me to be sensitive to the uphills in the dark in the first hour because I'm not so great at perception of an uphill in a headlamp's view only. With preparation, I can take the "get to the next aid station" feel and break it down further into "get to the Jeep road", "get to the marshy section", etc. On multi-loop courses, I've even broken it down to "get to that flagged marker by the big tree" and other crazy things.
So there's some insight into how these last 2 weeks have been. I blog things like this because it's fun to reflect a year or two down the road, and I have no doubt this post will be interesting, very interesting, to me later!


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Know more about this business than we do? Cool! Please submit any corrections or missing details you may have.Help us make it right
Christian schoolelementary schoolhigh school
Be the first OregonLive.com user to add photos or videos of Community Bible Church Ifca
Community Bible Church Ifca can be found at Caves Hwy 113. The following is offered: Preschools. The entry is present with us since Sep 7, 2010 and was last updated on Nov 12, 2013. In Cave Junction there are 3 other Preschools. An overview can be found here.
Pre K-12, Pre K - 12, Nursery Provided, Individualized Curriculum, Community Christian Academy


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Are you looking for affordable gifts? Let us take care of all the gifts and floral services for your loved ones. Our highly experienced florists make sure you get the right flowers and gifts for the right occasion. You can depend on us for any flower arrangement service. You can choose from our wide range of gifts, including chocolate gift boxes and teddies.
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You can now choose from a variety of gifts to send to your loved ones. You can rely on us as we have over 49 years of experience in the business and over this time have been providing excellent services from funeral flower arrangements to Valentines flower delivery. We provide our comprehensive service in Leeds, Castleford, Normanton, Ossett and Pudsey. Contact us today!
Get high quality floral arrangements with J & D Marsay Flowers. Call us on


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Do you want to start your own business?
Yes I know….it's the entrepreneurial bug.
You want to become your own boss.
Starting up a business is a huge deal. It's not an easy task because a business is not a hobby. It is an income stream. There are laid down rules, principles and tips before the returns starts coming in.
Every year, new businesses keep springing up, people are stepping out to have their own business.
In the light of new startups, one of the most difficult part of having your own business is knowing where to begin. Most solopreneurs start up without arming themselves. No wonder every year we see new startups opening and closing. Statistics as published by Forbes has it that,approximately half a million small businesses get started each month but more shut down than start up.
What are they not doing?
These statistics is not intended to discourage you from starting your business, rather, it is to encourage you to be smart before you launch your business.
These 7 powerful tips will help you startup and sustain your business
1 .Have An Idea: Every great business began with a great idea and without an idea, there will be no business. Your idea is the major drive of starting your own business. An idea is simply the first milestone in the process of growing and sustaining a business. Your business idea should revolve around your passion.
Why am I saying this?
Your passion is the driving force that will help you pursue and sustain your business. Your passion can be identified by what you love doing, what gives you fulfillment and happiness and trying out ways to monetize it.This is where you turn your passion into a business.
2. Do Your Research: As reported by Fortune, startups fail because, "They make products no one wants." This is where research comes in.It will be totally out of place to start up a business without a background research. Research is an essential tool for all businesses that wants to flourish and be sustained.
Doing a research has a lot of benefits.
- You will know if there is a demand or need for the product or service you want to launch. It is very necessary that you deliver what consumers need, not what you offer.
- It will help you to redesign or repackage your product or service to satisfy the needs of customers.
- It will help you to know the market trend and come up with a unique selling point to make you stand out and be ahead of the crowd.
With research, you have a knowledge of what other competitors are doing and not doing, how they are offering their services, branding and packaging.
3.Have A Business Plan: A business plan is a written guide describing the future of
your business. It is a road map for how a new business will achieve its goals and objectives' business plan is not only meant for sourcing fund for your startup, with it, you can run and sustain your business. A business plan tells you what you plan to do in your startup and how you plan to do it.
4. Have A Business Goal: Your goal should help answer the question 'why am I going into business?' Every business in operation have a goal and mission statement. Having a goal is vital to the success of your startup business. A business goal will keep your startup in track and also give you something to walk towards. It serves as a tool to measure the success of your business. A business goal will help to provide guidance, direction and keep you focused.
5. Be Prepared: You probably would have heard about the 5p's.The 5p's says that, "proper preparation prevents poor performance."
Now, you don't intend to start up a business that will not grow and flourish, do you?
Before you start up your business, you'll have to be fully prepared to face the challenge of owing a business, mapping out strategies and sweating it out in the market place. To be prepared is half of the victory because a startup without proper preparation is a disaster waiting to happen.
6.Check Out For Clues: According to Anthony Robinson (business and motivational coach),"success leaves clues".
Nothing is new under the sun. There are entrepreneurs who are into your intended startup business before you. They have experienced the up's and down's of your intending niche, product or service line. There is nothing wrong in picking up one or two things from their experience. Experience is after all a great teacher. Their experience will help provide you with valuable strategy and approach for your startup. Have them in your radar.
7. Have An Online Presence: Everybody is on Facebook, let's start there. Do not limit Facebook to be a channel where you chat and have new friends. Make it your advert board. Create an awareness there. Many startups are taking advantage of the social media to expand their target market, business and boost sales and productivity. An online presence will allow you to reach your target market easily and faster with every possibility of connecting to more clients. Tell your Facebook friends, Twitter followers or your LinkedIn connects what you are offering in your new startup. The world is now a global and technological village, go global with your startup business.
In conclusion, anybody can start up a business but not all can sustain it.The world of business today is all about value, knowing and doing the right thing and your capacity to sustain that value in the market place. Your startup business doesn't have to be hard. Not after you have known and worked with these startup tips
Did you find the post helpful? Do you have any tip for startups?Use the comment section and tell me. Don't forget to follow my blog for great and interesting tips.
To Your Startup Business!


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Written on: 13/02/2013 by olivia_jones (4 reviews written)
I really enjoy my coffee and usually I am rather picky…..because near my office there isn't a single decent place to get a nice cup of coffee (!!!!) I decided to try and find a nice one from the supermarket. As I was searching through the different types and varieties I came across Nescafe's Azera product. The packaging looks nice and rather unique, additionally the product is advertised as a "Barista Style Instant Coffee" (as stated on the tin below the product name!) I should also add that the packaging also states that this specific coffee blend is "finely blended, has a roasted coffee flavour, intense aroma, and velvety coffee crema". After all this promoting effort I thought that it might actually be nice and I bought it - by the way the cost for this small tin was 2 pounds. The only point in which I agree with the company is that the coffee is finely ground. The coffee taste as bad as any instant coffee and has nothing to do with the way a barista would make a coffee. In all I would say that I was disappointed by the product, I would not recommend it and I will not buy it again.
As rated by our community of reviewers
" Qaulity Coffe " Read More
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" Recipe Changed - Recipe for Disaster! " Read More
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" Getting weaker " Read More
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Written by Sovka11
" Very comfortable coffee cup in which coffee don't spread down at th... " Read More
Written by Cesar89


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What we do?
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The responsibility for implementation of this policy rests with the partners of Xtol Development Services.
All staff have a responsibility for ensuring that the policy is implemented and monitored and that
customers, contracting organisations and stakeholders are aware of the company's commitment to
equal opportunities and all procedures for achieving this commitment.
Every employee / candidate is entitled to a working environment that promotes dignity and
respect for all. No form of intimidation, bullying or harassment will be tolerated
The commitment to equality and diversity in the workplace is good management practice and
makes sound business sense
All staff are encouraged to recognise their own and the company's responsibilities in
implementing positive diversity and equality policies, practices and procedures
Staff and customers are encouraged to identify that diversity and equality go beyond age, race, disability and gender
Breaches of our equal opportunity policy will be regarded as misconduct and could lead to disciplinary proceedings
This policy will be monitored regularly and reviewed annually to ensure that all documentation and procedures remain free from unlawful or discriminatory practices.
It is our policy to provide a safe and comfortable environment where staff and customers are free from:
- Discrimination
- Harassment
- Victimisation
It is also our policy to ensure that all staff and candidates are treated fairly and are able to use their talents and abilities to their full potential irrespective of their:
Gender Reassignment
Marriage & Civil Partnerships
Pregnancy & Maternity
Religion & Beliefs
Sexual Orientation
Equality & Diversity
It is our policy to monitor information to ensure that as a company we uphold the statements we set out to achieve. The results of the monitoring process are used to improve working practices in line with the policy requirements.
Email us for more info


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Bug fixes
A number of small memory leaks and file descriptor leaks in uncommon situations have been fixed.
A potential remote buffer overflow in ssl_read_record() that has been independently found by both TrustInSoft and Paul Brodeur of Leviathan Security Group) has been fixed in this release. More details can be found in Security Advisory 2013-04.
Who should update
Our advice for users of the PolarSSL 1.1 branch is to update!
This release is still vulnerable to a remote timing attack that can recover the RSA private key (Security Advisory 2013-05). Please update to PolarSSL 1.3.0 or PolarSSL 1.2.9 to mitigate this attack!
Download links
Get your copy here: polarssl-1.1.8-gpl.tgz
The hashes for polarssl-1.1.8-gpl.tgz are:
SHA-1 : 618be4acfbfdfbf0a7f79bb7ca3945b54a8a4c91
SHA-256: ff128277e866549be9223135f6135c6ebb6fd4d57693f0896b5bf6b98d53d26f


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Monthly Archives: August 2011
Congressman John Larson's Visit
U.S. Congressman John Larson visited Horst Engineering as part of his weeklong push to discuss the health of the manufacturing sector in Connecticut. Larson is an East Hartford native and resident. Our company has been located in East Hartford since 1950. We … Continue reading
Posted in Front Page, General News


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Earthling, this is the last but certainly not the least welcome message to IUOMA you receive. I'm a celestial mail artist living in a heavenly corner of the faraway universe called Republik van Patland. When you joined IUOMA on january 17th I was unable to welcome you on board. At the time I was in a Celestial Journey far beyond the Milky Way. Now, back to planet Earth, I´d love to be the other end if you wish to trade mail art with a celestial mail artist. If this is the case at the time your envelope should read as follows:
The Celestial Scribe
Terrene Embassy
Republik van Patland
Caixa Postal 24827
I look forward to see a piece of yours in our terrene mailbox. I will do my homework after receiving your artwork. This is nothing less than a Celestial Promise. I'm Patricio, Celestial Scribe & Republik van Patland Official Envelope Provider.
Thank you Starling!
Hi Annie!
Thank you so much for the fantastic card! Finally got it from the PO box :D! A real nice surprise at the end of a hard week!! :D :D
And now your mail art arrived in Greece, too!
thank you so much, beautiful, beautiful!
I blogged it here:
You're welcome :D
© 2020 Created by Ruud Janssen. Powered by


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Are you running a WordPress blog not hosted at wordpress.com?
You're running the latest version (2.8.4), right? No?
There's a nasty worm making its way through older wordpress installs, taking advantage of old security shortcomings to fill your site with spamlinks and other garbage..
It doesn't just happen to "other" people, so right after reading this post, and just before you go back to reading that "How to make money on Twitter" book :
- backup everything now
- Make time to upgrade WordPress.
It's a long weekend for a lot of us, take advantage of it to upgrade your WordPress installation.
I did 14 wordpress installs last night. I'm ashamed to say I had some pretty old versions on some of the sites..(Really! – 1.5? yup) Out of 14 , only 1 didn't go smoothly, and it's because it was a REALLY old theme – that needed to be dumped anyway..
If you know about this exploit, and still choose not to upgrade, good luck with that..


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For those who crave the intense, complex flavors of raw cacao and brazil nuts, just a tiny touch of sweetener is perfect. Our low-temperature stone-grinding process releases all the taste in raw cacao beans and nibs, while leaving them truly raw. The brazil nuts are ground in the same way, so the result is a creamy-textured spread with extremely concentrated organic nutrition and flavor. A dash of xylitol gives just a hint of clean-tasting, mellow sweetness. This is strong stuff! Use it in milkshakes, cakes, or sauces, as a decadent substitute for peanut butter, or enjoy straight from the jar.
Ingredients: Organic raw cacao, organic Brazil nuts, and birch tree Xylitol. To preserve the flavors and health compounds in raw cacao, we stone-grind small batches of beans and nibs for 30 hours to create a smooth, fine-particle spread. Then we mix the freshly ground chocolate with our own Rejuvenative brazil nut butter, and sweeten it with xylitol. Xylitol, an organic product derived from birch sap, allows for natural sweetness without sugar. Raw Bittersweet Brazil Nut Chocolate Dream with Xylitol is a "treegan" product, which means all ingredients come from trees. Raw Bittersweet Brazil Nut Chocolate Dream with Xylitol is a 100% vegan organic food: sugar-free, dairy-free, GMO-free, and Gluten-free. Raw Bittersweet Brazil Nut Chocolate Dream with Xylitol should be refrigerated to preserve freshness. All jars are individually date-marked; for best flavor, consume within 8 months.
Xylitol is a naturally occurring sweetener which can be derived from many sources including corn husks, mushrooms and berries. We use an organic Xylitol product derived from birch sap. Xylitol is a "sugar alcohol" which is about as sweet as sucrose, but with 1/3 less calories and a much lower glycemic index. Unlike sugar, Xylitol does not ferment. Xylitol does not promote tooth decay or bacterial growth; in fact, a diet high in Xylitol has proven benefits for dental health. Xylitol can actually "starve" harmful bacteria! (Note that Rejuvenative Foods' products do not contain enough xylitol to produce this effect.)
Because of its low glycemic index, Xylitol is safe for consumption by some diabetic patients with poor sugar tolerance. If you are diabetic, confirm with your doctor that chocolate with Xylitol is a good choice for you.
The Brazil nut is celebrated for its rich flavor and creamy texture when ground. These delicious qualities result from the Brazil nut's high content of healthy unsaturated fat; among the highest healthy fat contents of any nut. Even small amounts of unsaturated fat in the diet can reduce bad cholesterol and increase good cholesterol, leading to a healthier circulatory system. Brazil nuts are rich in vitamins including vitamin E and B-complex vitamins. Finally, Brazil nuts provide important minerals including potassium, copper, magnesium, manganese and selenium. Brazil nuts provide the highest concentration of selenium of any food. Selenium protects cells against free radicals, and is crucial to thyroid health. Selenium consumption has been strongly linked with cancer cell reduction. Raw cacao has all the same health benefits as cocoa (roasted cacao), but with even higher concentrations of nutrients and antioxidants. Magnesium helps to balance brain chemistry, build strong bones and joints, reduce risks of diabetes and hypertension, and support heart health.
Raw cacao also contains sulfur compounds that strengthen hair and nails, improve skin condition, and help to detoxify the liver. The antioxidants in raw cacao help to improve circulation and regulate heartbeat and blood pressure, leading to reduced risk of stroke or heart attack.
Raw chocolate is also an excellent "mood food". Besides the uplifting flavor, raw chocolate contains endorphins that create a natural "high". Raw chocolate also contains neurotransmitters such as serotonin, which promote relaxation and feelings of well-being.


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You know guys, I heard a lot of news about Facebook in this week.Still, you're in doubt and a lot of queries crawling on your mind like What happened to Facebook? And What is Cambridge Analytica? All people are thinking about it.Even Donald Trump interfere in this Facebook data scandal.Don't worry guys, I'm here to roll this news with you.
What happened to Facebook?
Two days back, Facebook shares have been fell down by 5% as CEO Zucker Berg, agreed to present evidence in front of Congress about the corporate scandal.
The story began with Cambridge Analytica's firm, who has collected information on about 50 million Facebook profiles as a part of its bid to influence 2016 election.They just used quiz app spams that harvested millions of peoples data.It is reported that the data analyst firm had helped Donald Trump during elections, was able to collect users information illegally.This made Facebook's market value has come down by almost $50 billion since Friday.
Talking about this issue, Zuckerberg claimed that "It was a breach of belief, and I'm sorry we did not do much at that time.We are taking steps to ensure that it does not happen again."
Many companies have stopped their advertisements on Facebook, after which it has been found that data firm Cambridge Analytica has made unfair use of millions of peoples data from Facebook. Also, Mark Zuckerberg returns the blow to Donald Trump's claim that Facebook is completely against him.
Also read: Facebook introduced new privacy tools
What is Cambridge Analytica accused on Facebook?
Cambridge Analytica is coming from British analytics firm who helped Donald Trump in targeting online voters in political campaigns of US presidency.The explosion of Cambridge Analytica scandal occurred when WhilstleBower Wylie accused of collecting information from Facebook users and used this data for manipulating their opinion in favor of Donald Trump.
Also read: How Cambridge Analytica stole data and sent to Donald Trump
What is the issue on FacebookDelete campaign?
There was a hashtag on Twitter, "#DeleteFacebook" which is a campaign rolling out on all the social platforms.Facebook users are already in hurt due to losing their personal info from FB.And they are trying to disconnect in droves.The company also introduced a new tool for deleting an account permanently with saving data in offline.
Facebook receives the blows it deserves for its surprising negligence by allowing Cambridge Analytica to use undemocratic and liar sleazebags to collect date from their company.Most of its users are run away from Facebook in a completely justified disgrace.
Those who left Facebook are worried about possible abuse of heir data-certainly a practical disquiet.When we talk about others, leaving Facebook, primarily prohibit their services.
Also read: How to Delete Facebook account permanently?
After the encounter of such fraud injury, Facebook changes some rules to counter the current developments.
Here are some decisions are taken by Facebook authorities :
- No longer to allow third-party apps for advertising
- Complete protection for users data
- Auto-deleting fake accounts
Further updates of Facebook include easy access to user settings and tools to easily search, delete personal stored info.Also, menu with shortcut privacy is going to emerge incoming updates.
Read this: 9 Tech predictions that change world technology in 2018


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EPA-Estimated MPG
Cargo Space
5600 Division St
Directions Evansville, IN 47715
The RAV4 has long been a favorite among shoppers, maintaining a stellar reputation for style, functionality and reliability. A top choice for commuters and adventurers alike, this compact SUV shows off a smart design with highly-rated performance credentials. This model year, the 2017 Toyota RAV4 in Evansville offers shoppers more standard safety features and premium creature comforts. Continue reading our review below to learn more!
Following last year's refreshments, the sleek and sporty RAV4 has a lot to love. A quiet and comfy cabin with up to 73.4 cubic feet of cargo space is just the beginning. On the base LE trim, passengers are treated to great tech features like Bluetooth audio connectivity, a touchscreen media player interface and voice recognition. The next trim level, XLE, upgrades the audio to Entune Audio Plus with navigation, as well as more comforts like a sunroof, dual-zone automatic climate control and a leather-wrapped steering wheel. For more in the way of luxury, 2017 Toyota RAV4 reviews recommend the new Platinum trim. Entune Premium with JBL Audio, a motion-activated power liftgate and a 360-degree camera system are just a few of the premium features this trim boasts.
Both gas-only and hybrid models of the 2017 Toyota RAV4 in Evansville are powered by a 2.5-liter 4-cylinder engine rated at 176 horsepower. With an electronic six-speed automatic (gas-only), driver-selectable modes and optional paddle shifters, the RAV4 seamlessly blends practicality and fun for a thrilling drive experience. The fuel-efficient RAV4 Hybrid also offers exciting power with a net total of 194 horsepower and a continuously variable transmission. All-wheel drive is available on gas-only models and standard on hybrid models.
Many 2017 Toyota RAV4 reviews have praised the compact SUV's new standard safety equipment. The Toyota Safety Sense package, which includes automatic high beams, lane departure alert, automatic cruise control and a pre-collision braking system with pedestrian detection, is now available to every buyer. Additionally, the RAV4 is equipped for a variety of driving situations with a backup camera, hill start assist, stability and traction control, brake assist, and smart stop technology.
Don't just look at the 2017 Chevy Equinox, Ford Escape and the Honda CR-V when searching for a new car; also remember to check out the 2017 Toyota RAV4 near Evansville. Chances are that it fully complements your every demand, with its plethora of features and winning exterior design from front to back. After you are concluded with our 2017 Toyota RAV4 review and try the comparison tool, view finance incentives offered at Kenny Kent Toyota.
As your resident car dealer, we're the destination to go if you want to find the crowd-pleasing Toyota RAV4. We hope our 2017 Toyota RAV4 review is useful when you're prepped to make your eventual buying decision. Use our online form to schedule an appointment to test drive the Toyota RAV4 in Evansville, IN, and explore the brand-new model upfront. Would you like a chance to see it preceding your visit? No problem - watching the enclosed video will give you a glance at its cabin and exterior from all ends.
Purchase prices do not include tax, title, license and $199.00 doc fee. Prices include the listed factory rebates, incentives. Pricing also includes dealer ads. Please verify all information. We are not responsible for typographical, technical, or misprint errors. Inventory is subject to prior sale. Contact us via phone or email for more details. *MPG Based on 2017 EPA mileage ratings. Use for comparison purposes only. Your mileage will vary depending on driving conditions, how you drive and maintain your vehicle, battery-pack age/condition, and other factors.


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It's just me here. Me, the earth and sky, and these here four walls. I have grown to know them all very well. To know every scratch and dent of their features. It brings me a great deal of pleasure to know them so intimately. Ever present they are – through the dark night, the morning light, the sun so bright, the evening twilight and again the dark night. The sun, the moon and stars in the sky - and these four walls, which I take wherever I go. Boundaries to my world, limits beyond which I rarely go. Stepping beyond the known, I will fall off the edge and into the abyss. So it might seem.
When moving the walls become thinner. As they become thinner one might take the opportunity to look through them. Look out and beyond our own cosy little circle of familiarity. Looking beyond our area of activity and out into the world and its endless multitude of things. But we must be be quick, for as we slow our movement and stop, those four walls will appear once again. They appear around us and grow dense so that nothing else can be seen. Nothing but this life reflected as all things around us. A reflection of a reflection of a reflection of life. Reflected onto these four walls.
We could tilt our head back and see the everyday Fatima sun. Look at the world beyond our own petty concerns. But alas there are not many who would make the effort to look that way, or even think of it. Instead it is so easy to let the head sag and see only the ground directly in front of the feet. With diminishing effort taking in a view of the stomach, the gravelly ground, the feet and everything that happens to be directly ahead. The small bit of path before us. That and the great earth that holds us up and catches us when we fall.
Those who didn't feel the calling to see the twirling Fatima sun might just hold their heads level of their own accord. Eyes horizontal and nose vertical – that alone is adequate and quite enough for the truest of true views. The clear face of life before us. Eyes horizontal and the back straight. As straight as straight can be. It will suffice and is in fact preferable. To be precise it is the recommended way for the clearest view of life. The wholly recommended way. The turning sun will shine out from all and any things. Even from these four walls.
If it is not the case already, one might consider ways of lessening the impact of the appearance of these four walls. Lessening the belief that they are solid and unyielding.
Lessening the belief of their being complete and unchanging. An investigation, of sorts, to reveal our response to them and any beneficial or deleterious effects that they might have on us.
These four walls, this magic circle, this ball and chain. To notice how they become lighter, more transparent, more clear as we move the most, but also when most still. To notice that there are other ways of making them transparent. Noticing how habitual patterns make them thick and dense and impenetrable. So too the how habitual moments make life less comfortable than it seems.
The observed life becomes lighter than the lighest hour of the day, and darker than the darkest hour of the night. One might let the mind withdraw its daily pattern for a minute. To fill the eyes with novel things, and to forget for a while ones cares and concerns. To look at so many of the other things that can be seen in life. Things that we might usually not notice. To take our usual way of not noticing things and hurl it far into the churning sea of life. To look and see everything even if it has been hidden by one wall or four.
When that is done, wandering without aim for a while and letting the walls languish. Wandering to and fro and filling onesself with the simple beauty of life. Letting life speak with no interference. The ponds and the weeds and the ducks and the sky. All quietly playing their part in the drama of life. When one has had enough of wandering then stopping. Gathering at a single unified point. The four walls might buckle and melt away at any time. With only the most gentle of coaxing. Indeed without being acted upon in any way.
Adding to this life a few ingredients as if a magical recipe. Mixed together like a stew, or any of the ingredients on their own will suffice. They appear as the stage on which life appears to play itself out, in its many scenes. Go and visit the blue dragons cave. Spend a season or two there. Get to know it well. After doing that, go and visit hell. Have a good look around while you are there. Meet its residents and watch how they operate and what motivates them. Look from outside and spend some time considering why it has always been so popular. You might even see your own shadow there. Catch it, hold it close and get to know it well. Meet its friends and enemies, for everybody is represented there, and usually they arrive together. Have pity on their ways and your own ways and mine. Meet the intent of life. Ride it life a horse and get to know your part. Then go out and meet time. Not merely the tales from the past or fables from the future. Meet the speed of life. The speed of lifes many players. The speed of the grass growing and the wind blowing and the stars that wander across the sky. Most of all, meet time as it is happening now. In everything encountered in the field of life at any given moment. If that is not enough, step outside of the flow of time. Find a spot beyond times domain. Or create a situation where you can grab a big lump of it, and let it pass by as slowly as you like.
While doing that listen for the voice of truth calling out from within. The voice of truth and all the other voices whose imperative is to call out their case. Brace yourself and, of the many voices calling out, start with the loudest. Let it call out as much as it likes. Give it as much time as is necessary to exhaust itself. One day it will fade, and when it fades follow it. Don't lose sight of it because it will lead you to a place that is not hell. Take a good look so that you know what it is like. It is not hell and there there are no four walls to be found anywhere. Follow the others as they arise and follow those that seem to come from someone else. Follow them until there are none left. Follow them and notice the ease with which you might stride across the universe and the equal ease with which you might stride back.
Saturday, July 16, 2016
These four walls
Beamed from the Saucer Pod by firstname.lastname@example.com at 08:26 0 comments