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December 1, 2015 · 2 comments	· Categories: Stories
Thanks to Carolyn at Nuggets of Gold for contributing a story prompt: hurricane, chameleon, and jellybeans.
(Creative Commons image via flickr)
Ronda struggled to latch the storm shutters as the gusty winds came close to ripping them from her hands. Shut inside the cabin, her cocker spaniel Trevor barked once, a nervous yelp. "Just one more window to go, and then we're done," Ronda said loudly, to reassure herself as much as the dog. Fat drops of rain, just beginning to fall, spattered the hood of her nylon jacket. Sunset was still an hour away; but with a hurricane blowing in from the Gulf Coast, already it had gotten so dark that it looked like night.
Spending the winter in Florida had been her husband's idea. Nolan was a traveling salesman, and Ronda had a small online business, so they didn't have to stay in their little Indiana hometown but were free to live anywhere they wanted. Getting away from the snow and enjoying the sunny days and lovely wildlife of Florida had seemed like a great idea. But as it turned out, there hadn't been much sun—three strong storms already, and it was only December.
Getting the last shutter fastened, Ronda hurried inside just ahead of a colossal downpour, hoping she hadn't let any of that lovely Florida wildlife into the cabin with her. She didn't mind the birds so much because they really were pretty, even though they often kept her awake late at night with their nonstop chirping and squawking. But all those scaly, beady-eyed reptiles, ew! Lizards and snakes everywhere, and the occasional alligator by the roadside—they gave her the creeps.
"We'll be okay if the power goes out," she said to Trevor, who wagged his tail as if he could understand her. "There's plenty of fuel in the generator, food in the pantry, and a flashlight on the kitchen table."
She took a quick glance in that direction while hanging up her jacket. Yup, there was the flashlight, next to a green plastic bowl full of jellybeans. All of a sudden, Trevor launched himself toward the table, barking furiously! Jellybeans flew everywhere, and the bowl hit the floor. Fortunately Ronda already had eaten most of her favorite flavors, and many of the spilled jellybeans were lime green, which she disliked.
Just then, the power flickered and went out. It came back on a second later, before Ronda reached the table. And that was a very good thing, because when the lights came on again they revealed a lime-green chameleon perched on the flashlight handle, right where Ronda had been about to reach—staring at her with its big bulging eyes.
Trevor growled, Ronda shrieked, and the terrified chameleon leaped off the table and ran for its life! Opening the front door to shoo the chameleon out, Ronda grabbed Trevor by his collar so he wouldn't go tearing after it. Rain splattered all over the hardwood floor before she could get the door closed, which was okay because the floor needed mopping anyway.
"You can't have candy, it's not good for doggies. But you were a brave guard dog, so you can get a treat!" Ronda gave Trevor one of his favorite Bacon Cheddar Biscuits to console him for not being able to eat the spilled jellybeans as she started sweeping them up in a dustpan.
She fervently hoped the chameleon hadn't been hiding at the bottom of the bowl when she ate jellybeans earlier! And what was it doing here anyway—chameleons weren't native to Florida, were they? Oh, well, people said all kinds of escaped exotic pets were breeding in the Florida swamps, and Ronda was definitely ready to believe it. Some harmless Indiana snow would be just the thing right about now, she thought, as a huge thunderclap shook the cabin.
"There's no place like home!" she declared. Trevor wagged his tail agreeably.
October 6, 2015 · 4 comments	· Categories: Stories
Carolyn at Nuggets of Gold kindly provided me with a story prompt: Candy Corn, French Vanilla Coffee and a rainstorm.
A chilly October rain clattered against the windows when Irene woke up. She had been dreaming about work, hurrying to finish a project while evil giant corn stalks sprouted from an overturned bowl of candy corn in the break room. At first she thought she'd overslept; but no, it was Saturday, and she didn't have to go anywhere! Even if the rain turned to snow, she would be nice and cozy here at home with the heat on. She could stay in bed all morning if she wanted.
But then she remembered the new romance novel she'd been wanting to read. This would be a perfect morning to curl up on the couch with her Kindle and a cup of French Vanilla coffee. Quiet and peaceful, with no distractions. Just what she needed after a hectic week. She imagined she could smell the coffee already.
As soon as she opened the bedroom door, the coffee smell got stronger. Not French Vanilla, though it seemed familiar. And what was all that noise coming from the living room? She turned the corner and found her husband Rick sprawled on the couch in his shorts, watching mixed martial arts.
Every inch of the coffee table was totally covered with donuts, crumbs, candy bar wrappers, the morning newspaper, and a cup of that weirdly familiar coffee. The aroma left her thinking of Halloween parties, and something else—what was it that she had been dreaming about earlier? On the TV, some big tattooed guy was choking his opponent into unconsciousness on a bloody mat while the crowd cheered.
"Yeah! Awesome guillotine choke!" Rick grinned cheerfully and scratched his unshaven chin as the referee stopped the match. He moved over to make space on the couch. "Irene, you're going to love this coffee! The supermarket was out of your favorite French Vanilla when I got the groceries yesterday, so I bought the latest seasonal K-cup variety instead—Candy Corn flavor!"
The rain and wind rattled the windowpanes even more, as if it might indeed be about to change over to snow, or at least freezing rain.
"Actually, I don't feel much like drinking coffee today. I'm just going back to bed." Irene pulled her robe more tightly around herself; she had been standing near the window where it was drafty. "And this afternoon, I plan to clean out all the junk that's been piling up in the spare room. After that I'm going to paint the walls and buy some new furniture so that I can use it as a sitting area. A couch with a nice floral pattern would be just the thing, wouldn't you say?"
Rick scratched his chin again, looking quite baffled. "Okay," he mumbled after a while, turning his attention back to the TV as the next fight started.
September 29, 2015 · 4 comments	· Categories: Stories
This story's prompt, contributed by Noelle Vignola, is from the poem Emerald Spider Between Rose Thorns by Dean Young: "Imagine, not even or really ever tasting a peach until well over 50, not once…"
Young people in Texas are supposed to be adventurous, so I wasn't at all surprised when my brother Davey grew up to be an oil worker. I never had a clue what got into him three years ago, though, when he moved to Alaska to work in the oilfields of the Arctic Circle. He had plenty to say about the beauty of the midnight sun, the aurora borealis, and the caribou herds thundering across the tundra; but as for me, well, I wouldn't take all that in trade for one perfect peach from Gran's backyard tree.
Davey got married last year. He met his bride Rosa, an Alaskan Native who grew up in a small village, when she started working for the oil company as an industrial nurse. Just before the Fourth of July, he brought Rosa and her mom Celeste here to Amarillo for a week's visit. Both mother and daughter smiled a lot and were short and plump; they had lovely smooth complexions and big, dark, alert eyes. Celeste hadn't ever traveled outside Alaska before. When I gave her a fresh-picked peach, she closed her eyes in delight after the first bite, with the juice running down her chin unnoticed.
The week went by all too fast. After we took our visitors (and how strange to think of Davey as a visitor!) to the airport for the return flight, Gran shook her head in pity as we started walking back across the parking lot. Her steel-gray curls drooped in the waves of heat rising from the asphalt.
"Just imagine, Lori Beth—imagine, not even or really ever tasting a peach until well over 50, not once. Oh, I suppose they must have grocery stores in Alaska, but really," and Gran waved a hand dismissively, making clear that she wouldn't count rock-hard peaches in grocery stores as real fruit or anything close to it.
I was just about to agree with her, and then I started thinking about when I'd first come here. Davey and I were born in San Diego. The first time we ever saw snow was when Mom brought us to Amarillo for what she said was a Christmas visit, just as a ferocious winter storm blew in off the prairie. We gleefully ran around building snowmen and snow castles, never thinking about why Mom crammed the old Ford's trunk full of all our clothes if we were only staying for Christmas. Every time one of us asked when we'd go home, Gran just said, "Well, bless your heart, child," and sent us out to play. We had no idea what was going on until some kids at our new school explained what a divorce was.
"I never saw snow till I was five," I said, watching a plane's takeoff as it circled around to the west, its long curved trail streaking into the setting sun.
Davey had told me that Rosa and Celeste's ancestral language had dozens of words for different kinds of snow. Heavy and wet, powdery and light, a soft fresh snowfall on bare ground, old snow half-melted and then refrozen smooth as glass—when I thought about it, I saw how there could be so many words. But living in Texas, I'd never had occasion to think about it before.
Following my gaze toward the departing jet, Gran shook her head again. This was a different motion—a quick, impatient tossing of her curls as if to shoo away unwanted thoughts, like a mare plagued by flies.
"Well," Gran finally said," bless your heart."
July 7, 2015 · Write a comment	· Categories: Stories
This is the final story in a series of three. Click here to read the first.
One tiny dot at a time, the daylilies are taking shape on the sun-splashed canvas, their yellow and orange trumpets vivid against the green-shadowed background. Serra can almost imagine herself in the long-ago tranquility of Monet's garden—that is, if she ignores the skyscrapers on all sides, the rumbling traffic, the chattering pedestrians, and the buzzing of an edger as one of the park's groundskeepers comes nearer.
After she finishes the painting, she'll walk back to the tiny apartment she has reluctantly called home since her divorce three years ago. Serra never cared much for city life, but it's not as if she has much of a choice now. After losing her middle-management job in the recession, she ended up stuck in long-term unemployment hell, and that was when her husband left her. No kids, thankfully. By now she has given up her car, her jewelry, and her collection of antique jewelry boxes, while trying to convince herself (without much success) that a minimalist lifestyle suits her better anyway.
Last week she'd had a particularly awful interview for an office assistant job that was far below her qualifications. The hiring manager, an older man with deep creases around his mouth that gave the look of a perpetual smile, hadn't even gone through the usual checklist of questions before stopping mid-sentence to ask her, not unkindly, "Do you really want this job?"
Taken by surprise, Serra had been about to stammer a response when the manager had told her, even more gently, "You should have said yes already."
Now as she's standing at her easel, the hot sun on her face reminds her of the shame she had felt, stumbling out to the bus stop with her briefcase full of useless resumes. Of course she didn't really want that crummy job, but the rent wasn't going to pay itself, was it? She tries to focus her attention back on the painting, but there's no hope for this latest effort at mindfulness: Monet's imagined garden is long gone.
The nearby edger whines like an overgrown mosquito, loud and annoying. Serra turns her head to locate the sound, flipping a long braid back over her shoulder as she does so. She'd prefer to get her hair done in almost any other style, having been raised by a single mom named Rainbow who grew up on a commune and always had braids hanging down to her jeans pockets; but going to the salon every few weeks is another luxury Serra has given up.
A spot of white in her peripheral vision resolves into a man's shirt. Serra realizes in annoyance that some guy she doesn't know has been standing behind her, quietly watching her paint. He looks harmless enough in a business suit, and he's kind of cute, with dark curly hair and a Latin complexion. She has no intention of letting some random guy waste her time, though. They always vanish when they find out how long she has been without a job, and she certainly doesn't need any more of that.
She's about to scowl and tell the guy to shove off; but then she notices the young woman with the edger, cheerfully waving hello to her. Before Serra knows it she's smiling in response, feeling mysteriously lighter, as if she just put down something much weightier than the paintbrush she'd been holding. Two robins sitting in a purple plum tree chirp smugly, like they were in on the secret all along.
The man standing behind her smiles, too, a flash of bright white in a smooth bronze face. In a pleasant baritone, he introduces himself as Ricardo and says he's the second-shift manager at the coffee shop across the street. This morning he's been meeting with bankers about a loan to finance buying out the shop's owner, who recently decided to change careers.
Serra knows he doesn't mean to put her on the defensive. It's just the usual conversation of people who have a place in the world—a category that doesn't include her anymore. She feels the familiar tension creeping back into her jaw and shoulders as she gives her name. What else is there to say? But this time, something feels different; the stress doesn't quite take hold. There is still a bit of a smile on her lips, a touch of the moment's lightness.
"Serra is a nickname, it's short for Serendipity," she finds herself explaining, without the usual self-consciousness about having a silly hippie name. Ricardo compliments her on its uniqueness—he's being sincere, as far as she can tell. When he follows up by asking if she is a professional artist, she figures that's got to be nothing but flattery. Still, there doesn't seem to be a reason to let this conversation bother her; so she goes ahead and tells Ricardo that she paints as a hobby and doesn't have a job at present.
She expects he'll make himself scarce quickly enough after hearing that. Instead, he asks what sort of work she does. Then, much to her surprise, she finds herself telling him the whole miserable story, which she generally never mentions at all. She has kept it bottled up all these years because the last thing she wants is anyone's pity. Once it starts spilling out, though, Serra just can't manage to put the lid back on.
Ricardo listens calmly. After a while he asks, "Have you ever waited tables? One of the servers at the coffee shop just quit."
"Yes, when I was in college," Serra says. She thinks back to those days, not all that long ago, when life was still an adventure full of shiny new possibilities. Somewhere along the way—she still doesn't quite know how it happened—life turned into a restricted-access highway fenced in all around by plans and expectations, with ever-narrowing lanes and traffic moving so fast there was no way to slow down.
She never had time for painting after she got so busy. As much as she told herself she'd find a few hours on the weekend, there was always something else to do. The notion of spending a gorgeous summer day at the park, contemplating a bed of daylilies and slowly bringing them to life by way of tiny dots in the pointillist style, wouldn't even have crossed her mind.
Maybe it was not her choice to travel the side roads and the detours, but Serra realizes she has learned something from them. As with the dots on her canvas, every moment of experience has its place in the picture. She finds to her surprise, when she tells Ricardo she'd be interested in the job at the coffee shop, this time she really means it.
May 15, 2015 · 2 comments	· Categories: Stories
This is the second story in a series of three. Click here to read the first.
It's always so pretty in the park when the sun is shining straight down at midday. Julie has been working for the park district as an assistant groundskeeper since she finished high school, and she loves it. Even though the park is in the middle of the city and there are tall buildings all around, Julie can hear birds singing and see the green grass and trees, just like when she lived on the farm with Aunt Kathie and Uncle Hank.
She has a mom and dad, too, but they live in another city far away. Aunt Kathie once told her it was because taking care of a sick baby had been too scary for them. Julie had to have heart surgery when she was very little because she has Down syndrome. That's also why she needed extra help in school.
"It was never that they didn't love you, bless their hearts," Aunt Kathie had said, as her long, callused fingers busily snapped the green beans for supper. "Sometimes people have a hard time dealing with their fears."
The park's concrete walkways sparkle as the sun blazes down from a cloudless sky. Julie's edger hums along, trimming back the grass. She imagines that maybe the grass is afraid it will get hurt, like when she was a little girl and cried about getting her hair cut. Bits of grass are scattered all along the concrete behind her, breaking up its flat white sameness.
"All safe," she chants softly to the grass, her voice blending with the edger's low vibration. Somewhere off to her left, there's a car horn blaring. "All good, all safe."
Julie knows she's talking to herself as much as to the grass. Moving to the city and learning how to live in an apartment had been scary. Uncle Hank had told her she would be safe and there was no need to worry. Uncle Hank is a reverend, and he preaches at the old wooden church down the road from the farm. This year he's been talking a lot about Providence, gratitude, blessings, and things working out for the best. Julie likes that word, Providence—it has such a pretty sound to it.
She also likes the word "reverend," and once she looked it up in the dictionary, finding that it was part of a set of related words. Revere, reverential, reverence. Sometimes words can be fun. Math, well, not so much; but Aunt Kathie helps with the shopping and bills.
"Rev-er-ence," Julie chants even more softly, feeling that she is now in perfect tune with the hum of the edger. She's getting close to the end of the walkway, where orange and yellow daylilies spread out along the side of the park. A woman has set up an easel beside them and is dabbing with a small brush at her canvas, filling it with bright dots of color.
Just beyond the daylilies there's a sidewalk and street with people busily going by. Most of them aren't looking this way—they're watching the traffic or talking on their mobile phones. Only the artist painting the lilies seems like she's fully here. A pigeon grabs a crumb and hops out of the way of the edger.
Two robins are chattering to one another in the grass. As Julie comes closer they take flight, landing on a low branch of an ornamental plum tree. The thick purplish leaves almost glow in the brilliant sunlight. Looking up farther, above the trees, the sky rises into a clear blue vault full of sparkling treasures—wide open for anyone to reach, and so beautiful.
The artist turns her head, tossing a long dark braid back over her shoulder. For a moment the two women's eyes meet, and Julie waves a hand before she even thinks about what she's doing. Overflowing with joy, she imagines that it's radiating from her in all directions, like the sunlight.
"Reverence," she says one last time, in a whisper so low that she can barely hear her own voice. She feels certain it's a blessing from Providence that she has shared.
Click here to continue to the third and final story in the series.
April 29, 2015 · 6 comments	· Categories: Stories
The city park with its neatly maintained flowerbeds and ornamental trees always looks like a small square of dark chocolate in the morning, when it's shadowed by hulking office buildings. Lily can't complain, or at least she feels that she shouldn't; for many years she has made good money from her first-floor coffee shop, across the street from the park.
By now the morning rush is just about over. A few cars go by, their daytime running lights soft and glittering like fireflies in the shadows. But mostly everyone is at work now, settling into their cubicles for another day of ringing phones and clacking keyboards. Global commerce is an impatient master.
Lily always thought she'd had it easier with the coffee shop, where she could be her own boss. She hadn't seriously questioned that assumption, nor had she realized how much stress had crept into every part of her existence, until last year when she got the breast cancer diagnosis. That had left her even busier than usual, of course, what with all the medical appointments and making sure she could keep the shop properly staffed when she wasn't there. But all those weeks of lying on a hard table getting radiation treatments every day had given her plenty of time to reflect on things.
She smiles at a regular customer who just came in. Gunther is retired, like most of her midmorning clientele, and he walks here every day from the senior citizens' apartment building a few blocks to the north. Sometimes he plays chess or checkers in the park, if the weather is good and he can find someone interested in a game. He has kindly blue eyes behind his trifocals and a short white fringe encircling his mostly bald head.
"So, Lily," he says, in a voice that's still gravelly from decades of smoking, though he gave up the habit a few years ago after a heart attack. "I heard you're selling the coffee shop and going to work for a cruise line."
"It's true," she answers, bracing herself for a Love Boat joke and wondering who blabbed. She still hasn't said anything to her parents or brothers about her plans, even though she now has a definite start date on a South Pacific cruise ship next month. She comes from a practical Midwestern family descended from Eastern European shopkeepers. No doubt the first thing they'll do is get on the phone to everyone they know, gossiping about how she has totally lost her marbles.
Much to her surprise, Gunther promptly declares, "Good for you!" His big white head bobs emphatically as he settles into his usual booth with the red-checked tabletop; Lily favors retro décor. As always, he puts the brown carrying case for his chess/checkers set beside him on the bench seat, just like the briefcase he carried to work for so many years.
"I always wanted to be a cowboy," he confides, lowering his voice as if he's afraid to say it out loud, even now. "But that was just a foolish thought—everyone would have said so. Instead I did the sensible thing, got my degree and became an accountant, putting aside enough savings for a comfortable retirement. Now my wife is dead, my kids all moved away long ago, I sold the big house in the suburbs because I couldn't stand the emptiness, and what use is the money I saved? I should've followed my heart and trusted that the Lord would provide, just like for the birds and flowers. Isn't that how it goes?"
He blinks earnestly up at Lily through his glinting lenses as the young waitress Samantha, blonde hair pulled back in a waist-length ponytail, brings his usual coffee and blueberry muffin to the table.
"Yes, 'consider the lilies.'" She smiles again, wryly this time. "I haven't been much good at that myself, for all that my name is Lily. But at least I feel that I'm heading in the right direction now."
After picking at his breakfast a little, Gunther speaks again, this time not looking up. "If I were younger I'd move out West and start a new career just like you, but it's too late even to think about that."
"Not necessarily." Lily can't imagine what's gotten into her to start giving advice like this. Usually she is all friendly chatter, just a lot of meaningless words, nothing that could ever upset a customer or make her sound pushy. She had more than enough of busybodies when she was growing up, and she vowed long ago that she would never become one herself.
But maybe that also had been doubt and fear keeping her silent, in a different way.
When Gunther looks up again, Lily goes on talking, her words feeling solid and right even though she'd had no idea what she was going to say. "Ranchers need accountants just like anybody else running a business, don't they? You could keep the books part-time on a ranch, learn the business, and then maybe buy your own ranch after a few years."
Across the street, the park comes to life in vibrant colors as the sun finally rises above the office buildings. On clear days like this, Lily always has felt drawn to the brilliant sunshine like a moth; and now she imagines that she's seeing the tropical ports and ocean vistas of her longtime dreams. She knows, even before looking back, that Gunther has followed her gaze. When she glances at him again, she sees in his blue eyes the wide-open skies of the West's mountain ranges.
This is the first story in a series of three. Click here to read the second.
January 20, 2015 · Write a comment	· Categories: Stories
The high school football field's bleachers bustled with activity as late-arriving spectators found seats after the opening kickoff. Down on the field, the players lined up… [This is Part 18. Continue reading this installment, or read the story from the beginning.]
January 6, 2015 · Write a comment	· Categories: Stories
A fire crackled cheerily on a wide brick hearth, sparks rising and popping as a log settled farther down into the pile. Snowy hills and bare, icy branches gleamed in the moonlight… [This is Part 17. Continue reading this installment, or read the story from the beginning.]
November 4, 2014 · 2 comments	· Categories: Stories
A dream filled with whining mosquitoes gave way to the equally unwanted buzz of the alarm clock as Aurora, still more than half asleep, smacked the off button. Something plastic clattered to the cold hardwood floor in the dark—she'd bumped Darrell's photo off the dresser again. She switched on a light, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Darrell smiled up at her from a cheap frame in a dusty corner, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners and sandy-blond hair falling to his shoulders.
She would have plenty of time for dusting after work, alone in the apartment as usual. The photo was about all she saw of Darrell most days, since he'd taken a truck-driving course last year—not long after their marriage—and gotten a job as a long-haul trucker. He was always talking about how much he loved the job: driving the big rigs, seeing the country, being part of life's adventures rather than just watching life go by.
Aurora could understand that feeling. After all, they had met while working at a McDonald's just off the interstate. Last month, she had been promoted to first shift manager. The job was mostly okay, but some days she felt like it would be great to jump in a truck and never look back. Darrell had ambitious plans, saving up to buy his own truck—he had in mind that Aurora would learn to drive it and they'd be an owner-operator team.
But for now, all she drove was a beat-up old Chevy sedan, which at present was sitting in the parking lot covered with about three inches of snow—as she discovered when she looked out the bedroom window. The forecast hadn't predicted snow overnight, and Aurora hadn't thought to set her alarm clock earlier. Now she'd have to hurry to work, especially since she was responsible for unlocking the restaurant to let in the morning crew.
She dressed quickly and went outside, putting on thick gloves to keep her hands warm while she brushed snow off the car. A bitterly cold wind blew from the north, and the predawn sky was still pitch black. A city truck had just gone by, plowing up the snow into big dirty heaps. Aurora drove the few blocks to the highway and got on the ramp. There wasn't much traffic yet this morning. She passed a semi, noting a Bible verse on its trailer. 1 Corinthians 16:14, it proclaimed: Let All Your Work Be Done with Love.
Well, that certainly hadn't been the first thought in her mind, after waking up in the dark on a morning like this. And there was a slowpoke ahead in the exit lane, crawling down the ramp she needed to take. Some people had no idea how to drive in the snow. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the usual list of complaints ran through her head: dreary, dull, dismal, dark, depressing winter. The sun wouldn't rise for a long time yet. It was no wonder ancient people had made up myths about it, telling stories around the fire on the long, dark nights.
In the story from which she got her name, a chariot pulled the sun across the sky. Every morning as dawn approached, the celestial gates had to be opened to allow the chariot to pass. That was the goddess Aurora's task. The myths had seemed silly, learning them in school; but at least they had enough simple, realistic details that it wasn't hard to imagine being in the stories. Even goddesses had to wake up before dawn and trudge off to work.
She pictured her mythical namesake on a chilly Mediterranean morning, wrapped tightly in a wool cloak as she made her way along a windy mountain trail. From somewhere far below came the sounds of the sea. The moon had just set, and she had only the stars to light her path. She took a deep breath that tasted of pine and of the snow on the high peaks.
In the east, a pale glow brightened—the sun! Excitement rose within her as well, and she started running, the path coming clearer at each step. Her sandals slapped against the stony earth, in harmony with the hoofbeats echoing through the sky as the chariot approached. There they were before her, the golden celestial gates, shining in perfect glory! She lifted the bar, letting the gates swing wide as the chariot thundered through, feeling the thrill of its passage as it rumbled by…
The only rumbling as Aurora parked the Chevy outside the McDonald's came from a semi on the interstate carrying cold rolled steel. The imagined hoofbeats still echoed in her mind, all the same, and the unexpected joy lingered. It wouldn't be long—one of these days, she and Darrell would have their own truck, driving out of the east like the chariot of the sun. For now, though, her place in the world could be a meaningful one, right here where she was. Opening the gates.
Aurora found herself smiling as she unlocked the door of the restaurant, doing her work with love.
September 30, 2014 · Write a comment	· Categories: Stories
Woods had been sitting in the dining hall for a few minutes, mostly just looking at his hot oatmeal rather than eating it, when Mastroianni walked in from the galley… [This is Part 16. Continue reading this installment, or read the story from the beginning.]


Low-Grade Metamorphism explores processes and transformations in rocks during the early stages of metamorphic recrystallization. There has been little analysis and documentation of this widespread phenomenon, especially of the substantial and exciting advances that have taken place in the subject over the last decade. This book rectifies that shortfall, building on the foundations of Low-Temperature Metamorphism by Martin Frey (1987). The editors have invited contributions from an internationally acknowledged team of experts, who have aimed the book at advanced undergraduate and graduate students as well as researchers in the field.
Contributions from internationally acknowledged experts.
Documents the substantial and exciting advances that have taken place in the subject over the last decade.


Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt (FUD) has long been a strategy for getting people to believe false information in politics, public relations and marketing.
But it's also used by people internal to a company as a way of maintaining their interests and combatting change.
Perhaps the last part of the workforce to go through its digital transformation, HR is experiencing its digital moment. And for a large proportion of people working in the space, FUD is more important than ever.
New, transformative technologies are pushed aside as other infrastructure projects and initiatives (the known) are prioritised. Some departments will claim not to have the time to focus on tech adoption because they're busy with performance-management that month, completely ignoring the idea that tech could save them huge amounts of time.
Meanwhile, outdated methods such as annual staff surveys and subjective appraisals are still given precedence over continuous real time feedback.
Yet, the benefits of adopting more sophisticated methods are obvious. Evidence-based management is on the rise. We no longer need 'people persons' in HR but instead, require strategy-focused leaders who are able to use new technologies for workforce forecasting, attraction and retention strategies, mobility and succession planning.
But this transformation of the HR function is no secret. So why the continued resistance?
Breaking down FUD is more complex than merely outlining the benefits of introducing new technologies. To any serious HR professional, these would be obvious.
But for the sake of simplicity, let's split FUD into three main groups,!
Much of HR's inertia is born out of a fear of being responsible for botching the implementation process. This means that technology vendors need to produce a slick, seamless launch & onboarding process which ensures adoption doesn't come in the way of other high-priority projects and tasks.
Extensive "roll outs" shouldn't be a part of any technology vendor's playbook. Instead, new technology should cascade effortlessly through the business, inflicting as little pain as possible on management teams as possible, and leaving employees' calendars relatively untouched.
How have you launched platforms in the past?
What will be expected of employees that use the platform?
Who are the most influential stakeholders in the company & how could they help us launch?
What are your expected timelines from pilot to full roll-out?
HR departments aren't necessarily used to having a budget for tech spend. They may not have any independent budget at all.
That's why it's so important to demonstrate the business value to their company through case studies and ROI models. The HR department should be able to picture themselves using the product successfully, and often need to feel like they're a late adopter of the technology.
Essentially, they're looking for a bet that's safer-than-safe.
Although that doesn't exist, technology vendors can offer something that more-than-helps justify the purchase. By providing insight on how engaged, motivated, happy, or likely to leave employees are, HR can measure the impact of their campaigns & bring figures to the boardroom.
For many business leaders - inside and outside the HR department - this will justify the cost of the technology.
What's your retention rate for employees?
Do you know how much disengaged or absent staff cost your business each year?
How do you report to senior management?
Of all the categories of the Big Five personality test, HR people are most associated with agreeableness. It's natural, when you work in the people department, to be a 'people person', and therefore be conscious of how others interpret your actions.
The same applies when you're asking an entire organisation to use a tool. What will they think of it? Will they use it? Will they feel like it's an invasion of privacy?
What's the risk of not introducing the tool?
What do you think employees will think of the tool?
Is there any risk employees won't understand why they're trying to use the tool?
At Motivii, the best way to ensure those questions are answered well is by clearly communicating why the platform is being used, which information can be seen by HR & which is anonymous, and what employees are expected to do with the software.
But most importantly, employees should see some value from using the software themselves. They should receive insights personal to them, to help their experience of work. They should be the focus of the software, rather than the HR department. At Motivii, we found by giving employees access to their own insights has been an important part of encouraging them to complete their weekly update.
By taking this approach, and focusing on giving value to individual employees and managers, uptake of technology will be natural within the company you work at. Meanwhile, for vendors, to ensure HR isn't left as a technological dud, your business development needs to overcome the FUD.


text:
AUTO UPDATES, BAJAJ, BIKES
Bajaj Auto has brought the electric avatar of its iconic Chetak scooter. Bajaj has introduced the Chetak electric scooter under its Urbanite brand at an event held in New Delhi on Wednesday. It is Bajaj's first all-electric scooter. Indian market Bajaj's electric scooter Chetak will compete with Ather 450 and Okinawa Praise.
Range will be 95 km in Economy Mode
Bajaj's Chetak electric scooter will offer 95 km range in Eco mode. At the same time, in Sport mode, this scooter will give a range of 85 km. There are many premium features in electric scooters. The Bajaj Chetak electric scooter will have a Fully Digital Instrument cluster. Also, scooters have a phob like premium motorcycles. The scooter has keyless ignition and will be fully connected via the app. The front of the scooter has an oval LED strip close to the headlamps. The scooter will be available in 6 color options.
Bajaj Auto is going to launch its new electric scooter on October 16, the company itself has confirmed this by sending a press Invite clearly saying "Our tomorrow", in which the word 'Our' addresses Bajaj Chetak while 'Tomorrow' means the car of the future, and we all know that the coming time will be electric vehicles. Let's take a look at some special things related to this launch.
Bajaj Auto launches 216-cc 'Quadricycle' Qute in Maharashtra for ₹2.48 Lakh
Chetak Electric will have fixed type battery
Road Transport and Highways Minister Nitin Gadkari and NITI Aayog CEO Amitabh Kant also attended the launch event. Bajaj's electric scooter is being produced at the company's Chakan plant. The Bajaj Chetak electric scooter will be launched in January 2020 and the company will then announce its price. The Chetak electric scooter will have a fixed type battery, which is not portable. The company does not have any swapping stations planned for the scooter. Bajaj's Chetak electric scooter will have a Li-Ion battery, which can be charged from a standard 5-15 amp outlet. Buyers can also opt for a home charging station.
Bajaj Qute, World's Cheapest Car expected to launch on Indian Roads this year
The ceremony will also be attended by two special guests, Union Minister of Road Transport and Highways, Nitin Gadkari and Neeti Yoga CEO Amitabh Kant. Now that these two dignitaries are present to launch all major electric and alternative fuel powered vehicles in the last few years.
According to the source, Bajaj has re-registered the scooter brand 'Chetak'. There are also frequent reports about Bajaj Auto's most popular scooter Chetak. The upcoming electric scooter will get modern features and a retro design. It is also believed that the new model of Bajaj can be named 'Arbanite'. By the way, many of its pictures can also be seen on the social platform.
Harley-Davidson Livewire Brand's First-ever Electric Motorcycle Unveiled in India
Bajaj Chetak Electric will be launched nationwide in a phased manner. The electric scooter will initially be rolled out in Pune and Bengaluru and will be sold through a pro-biking network. Without disclosing the price, Rajiv Bajaj, managing director of Bajaj Auto said, "We will keep Chetak Electric's price competitive."
Bajaj Auto stopped production of Chetak in 2006. Bajaj's focus shifted to making bikes instead of scooters. But now scooter is more popular than bike in the market. It is believed that the new Chetak can have a glimpse of the old Chetak but it will also be designed according to the modern era.
Updated: November 26, 2019 — 12:27 pm
Tags: Amitabh Kant, auto, Auto Headlines, Auto Latest News, Auto News, BAJAJ, Bajaj Auto, Bajaj Auto New Scooter, Bajaj Chetak Chic, Bajaj Chetak Electric, Bajaj Chetak Electric Price, Bajaj Chetak Electric Range, Bajaj Chetak Electric Scooter Details, Bajaj Chetak Scooter, Bajaj Chetak Scooter New Model 2019 Launch, Bajaj Chetak Scooter Range Details, Bajaj Urbanite Chetak, Bike News, Car news, News Bajaj New Product Launch, NITI Aayog, Nitin Gadkari

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


Trademarks and copyrights provide valuable protection of certain kinds of intellectual property. The rules, including time limits, are administered by the United States Patent and Trademark Office and the United States Copyright Office. There are important differences between the duration and maintenance requirements for trademarks and copyrights.
Trademarks are registered symbols, including words, phrase and designs. They serve to identify goods produced by a particular party and to distinguish those goods from similar items produced by others. Copyrights protect creative works, meaning texts, audio and video recordings, music, images and even the right to perform music and plays. A copyright legally exists from the time a created work is put into a "tangible form" such as a written document. The legal protection of a copyright is limited unless it is made a public record by registering it with the Copyright Office.
The author of a creative work has a copyright for her lifetime plus 70 years. For works created on a "for hire" basis, the copyright is good for 95 years from the date of publication or for 120 years from the year of creation for unpublished works. For-hire work typically means works created by employees on behalf of their employer. The 95/120 year rule also applies to works published anonymously or under a pseudonym. Once a copyright is registered, you do not need to renew it to maintain copyright protection for the applicable time period.
According to the USPTO, you can register ownership of a trademark and maintain it for any length of time. However, the registration must be renewed periodically to remain valid. To maintain active registration, you must file required documents and pay a fee. The fee was $100 per renewal as of 2013. If you don't file on time, the trademark registration will lapse and may not be renewed. Your only recourse then is to reapply for trademark registration.
To renew and maintain your trademark registration, you must file a Section 8 Document of Use and Application for Renewal. The first filing deadline is between the fifth and sixth years following registration. You must renew the trademark again between the ninth and tenth years and every 10 years thereafter. There is a six-month grace period for late filers. However, late filing during the grace period incurs an additional $100 fee as of 2013.
United States Copyright Office: How Long Does Copyright Last?


text:
// Copyright (c) 2009 The Chromium Authors. All rights reserved.
// Use of this source code is governed by a BSD-style license that can be
// found in the LICENSE file.

package org.chromium.sdk.internal.v8native.value;

import java.util.concurrent.ConcurrentHashMap;
import java.util.concurrent.ConcurrentMap;

import org.chromium.sdk.internal.v8native.protocol.input.data.SomeHandle;

/**
 * A map for storage and retrieval of special type handles, those not covered
 * by {@link ValueMirror} class. Special types are defined in {@link #isSpecialType(String)}
 * methods.
 */
public class HandleManager {

  private static final String SCRIPT_TYPE = "script";
  private static final String CONTEXT_TYPE = "context";

  public static boolean isSpecialType(String type) {
    return SCRIPT_TYPE.equals(type) || CONTEXT_TYPE.equals(type);
  }

  private final ConcurrentMap<Long, SomeHandle> refToHandle =
      new ConcurrentHashMap<Long, SomeHandle>();

  void put(Long ref, SomeHandle smthWithHandle) {
    SomeHandle oldObject = refToHandle.putIfAbsent(ref, smthWithHandle);
    if (oldObject != null) {
      mergeValues(oldObject, smthWithHandle);
    }
  }

  public SomeHandle getHandle(Long ref) {
    return refToHandle.get(ref);
  }

  private static void mergeValues(SomeHandle oldObject, SomeHandle newObject) {
  }
}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Oxford Reference Browse
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Aaron Quick reference
A Dictionary of Opera Characters (2 ed.)
Music, Opera, Performing arts
1 (Aron) (Schoenberg: Moses und Aron). Ten. Brother of Moses, who asks him to use his powers of oratory to convince the Israelites to follow Moses out of bondage. Aaron is ... More
1 (Aron) (Schoenberg: Moses und Aron). Ten. Brother of Moses, who asks him to use his powers of oratory to convince the Israelites to follow Moses out of bondage. Aaron is unable to accept the idea of a god which he cannot see in person. While Moses is away collecting the tablets of stone from the Lord, Aaron builds a golden calf for the people to worship. When Moses returns, he smashes the stone tablets in frustration and chides his brother for being so sceptical. Aaron, having been put in chains, is released on Moses's orders, but dies as soon as he is freed. Created (...
(Moses und Aron—Schoenberg) by Philip Langridge I have to confess that the first time I looked at the part of Aaron with a view to singing it, I thought it much too difficult to ... More
(Moses und Aron—Schoenberg) by Philip Langridge
I have to confess that the first time I looked at the part of Aaron with a view to singing it, I thought it much too difficult to learn. It was not so much the rather angular vocal writing—I had seen music written in a much more aggressive way than this—it was more a question of tuning. The flow of the vocal line in many places is very lyrical, but when you look at the detail of the accompaniment, the chords written beneath almost every note, you find that some notes fit exactly with that of the singer and some absolutely do not. I began by learning each phrase, one note following the other, so that each note was exactly in tune. Then each of these notes had to be sung, whistled, or hummed while playing the notes of the chord underneath it. If there was an exact match with the note I was singing, I put a ring round it. On the other hand, a note which was 'challenged' in the accompanying chord was very firmly crossed out. I know it sounds very long and laborious, but actually it did save time in the end because I was aware of the sounds around me when I sang it and that gave me a great sense of security....
Abaris Quick reference
(Rameau: Les Boréades). Ten. Son of Apollo. Brought up by the High Priest Adamas, his identity has remained a secret. In love with Queen Alphise, he is only able to marry her when his ... More
(Rameau: Les Boréades). Ten. Son of Apollo. Brought up by the High Priest Adamas, his identity has remained a secret. In love with Queen Alphise, he is only able to marry her when his royal blood is revealed. Created (f. stage p. ...
Abbadia, Luigia Reference library
Elizabeth Forbes
The Grove Book of Opera Singers (2 ed.)
(b Genoa, 1821; d Milan, 1896).
Italian mezzo-soprano. She studied with her father, the composer and teacher Natale Abbadia...
Abigaille Quick reference
(Verdi: Nabucco). Sop. Elder but illegitimate daughter of Nabucco. She is in love with the Hebrew Ismaele who rejects her in favour of her younger sister Fenena. She attempts to replace ... More
(Verdi: Nabucco). Sop. Elder but illegitimate daughter of Nabucco. She is in love with the Hebrew Ismaele who rejects her in favour of her younger sister Fenena. She attempts to replace her father as ruler of Babylon, but later, as an act of remorse, commits suicide. Aria: ...
Abimélech Quick reference
(Saint‐Saëns: Samson et Dalila). Bass. Satrap of Gaza. He taunts the subjugated Hebrews for praying to their God who is not helping them in their distress. Their leader, Samson, slays him. ... More
(Saint‐Saëns: Samson et Dalila). Bass. Satrap of Gaza. He taunts the subjugated Hebrews for praying to their God who is not helping them in their distress. Their leader, Samson, slays him. Created (...
Achilla Quick reference
(Handel: Giulio Cesare). Bass. General and Counsellor to Tolomeo, who cheats him. Achilla defends Cleopatra against Tolomeo and is mortally wounded. Created (...
Achille(s) Quick reference
1 (Gluck: Iphigénie en Aulide). Ten. Greek hero betrothed to Iphigénie. Defends her against her father, Agamemnon, who is about to sacrifice her. Created (...
Acis Quick reference
(Handel: Acis and Galatea). Ten. A shepherd, in love with Galatea. Killed by the giant Polyphemus. Galatea transforms him into a stream. Creator (...
Acis and Galatea Quick reference
The Grove Book of Operas (2 ed.)
Masque or serenata in one act (later two) by George Frideric Handel to words by John Gay and others; Cannons,
(Handel). Lib. by John Gay and others; 2 acts; f.p. Cannons, Edgware, nr. London, 1718, possibly dir. by ...
Adalgisa Quick reference
(Bellini: Norma). Sop. (but often sung by mez.). An acolyte of the temple. Pollione's love for her makes him reject Norma, the High Priestess. Adalgisa is horrified to realize that ... More
(Bellini: Norma). Sop. (but often sung by mez.). An acolyte of the temple. Pollione's love for her makes him reject Norma, the High Priestess. Adalgisa is horrified to realize that Pollione was Norma's lover and determines to send him back to her, but fails. Duet (with Norma): ...
Adam, Theo Reference library
Alan Blyth
(b Dresden, 1 Aug 1926). German bass-baritone. As a boy he was a member of the Dresden Kreuzchor, and he studied in that city and at Weimar before making his début at the Dresden ... More
(b Dresden, 1 Aug 1926).
German bass-baritone. As a boy he was a member of the Dresden Kreuzchor, and he studied in that city and at Weimar before making his début at the Dresden Staatsoper in ...
Adamas Quick reference
(Rameau: Les Boréades). Bass. High Priest of Apollo, entrusted with raising Apollo's son Abaris. Created (f. stage p. ...
Adamberger, Valentin Reference library
Thomas Bauman and Paul Corneilson
(b Rohr, nr Rothenburg, Bavaria, 22 Feb 1740, or Munich, 6 July 1743; d Vienna, 24 Aug 1804)....
Adams, Charles R. Reference library
H. Wiley Hitchcock and June C. Ottenberg
(b Charlestown, MA, 9 Feb 1834; d West Harwich, MA, 4 July 1900).
American tenor. He studied singing in Boston and in ...
Adams, Donald Reference library
(b Bristol, 20 Dec 1928; d Norwich, 8 April 1996). English bass. He was a chorister at Worcester Cathedral and later became an actor. After singing in the D'Oyly Carte Opera ... More
(b Bristol, 20 Dec 1928; d Norwich, 8 April 1996).
English bass. He was a chorister at Worcester Cathedral and later became an actor. After singing in the D'Oyly Carte Opera chorus, from ...
Adams, Rev. Horace Quick reference
(Britten: Peter Grimes). Ten. Rector of the Borough. Suspecting Grimes of being responsible for the death of his apprentices, he leads the men as they march to Grimes's hut to investigate ... More
(Britten: Peter Grimes). Ten. Rector of the Borough. Suspecting Grimes of being responsible for the death of his apprentices, he leads the men as they march to Grimes's hut to investigate his treatment of his latest Apprentice, John. Created (...
Adelaide Quick reference
(Strauss: Arabella). See Waldner, Gräfin Adelaide.
Adele Quick reference
1 (J. Strauss II: Die Fledermaus). Sop. The Eisensteins' maid. With her sister Ida, she goes to Prince Orlofsky's party, wearing a dress she has 'borrowed' from her mistress. ... More
1 (J. Strauss II: Die Fledermaus). Sop. The Eisensteins' maid. With her sister Ida, she goes to Prince Orlofsky's party, wearing a dress she has 'borrowed' from her mistress. At the ball she meets another guest—Eisenstein. Later that night she visits the governor of the local gaol, whom she has also met at the ball, and again bumps into Eisenstein. It all ends good‐humouredly. ...


text:
Last edited by Shazshura
2 edition of Last to Know found in the catalog.
Last to Know
Dee Armor
Published July 1997 by Partners Pub Group Inc .
IBM Tivoli Storage Resource Manager
Getting the most out of the client-agency partnership
The Gnostic Gospels
A tectonic reconstruction along the Grenville Front / by James Hilary Bourne
guide to the contents of the Qur'an
In Quest of the Holy Grail
Selections from A star is born
human exploration of space
Analytical Troubleshooting of Process Machinery and Pressure Vessels
Gimp 2.6 for photographers
Star Wars Super Collectors Wish Book
How Ireland voted 1989
Last to Know by Dee Armor Download PDF EPUB FB2
"Last To Know" was definitely a divergent style from her previous books that I have read. In the beginning she achieved suspense, but the plot became too predictable too early in the book.
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Normally I love darker books with more angst and drama but Maddox Wade just pulled me in. He was sexy, swoony and god did he give me all of the feels/5().
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Despite I Know What You Did Last Summer being one of the '90s most successful teen slasher movies, the author of the novel that inspired the film absolutely hated what was done with her original material. Releasing inright after Wes Craven's Scream changed the template of '80s slasher movies for a modern audience, I Know What You Did Last Summer took an old urban legend, Author: Jack Wilhelmi.
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The last chapter depicts peoples from all over the world coming to worship God, who desires that all people follow Him. This is not the doctrine of universalism, i.e., that all people would be saved because it is God's nature to save.
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gloryland-church.com - Last to Know book © 2020


The adage goes that we eat first with our eyes. It's no surprise, then, that the food industry spends countless hours creating the ideal shades that we will see when we open a package.
Everyone from the chefs to the marketing department want the food to look appealing and uniform, but color specialists understand how much more goes into ensuring a bottle of soda has the brand's signature hue. Food industry color control is a detailed process that includes tracking from the test kitchen to the final production line and can determine how a product is received in the marketplace.
A prime example of how important food industry color control is measuring the color of peanut butter. Peanut butter is one of the many products regulated by the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), and the color of the final product is an important component of the final grading each batch receives. The USDA guidelines include the lighting, conditions, product application, and other minor details to be maintained during the batch's inspection, and provides sample cards similar to paint chips to use as a comparison. Measuring the color of peanut butter involves creating the perfect set-up, and then hoping that the assembled reviewers all agree on the slightest variations in tans and browns -- all of which can be time-consuming and, in turn, expensive. And if the batch is off, the entire vat is lost. Colorimeters have made the tedious task of food industry color control much simpler by allowing manufacturers to quickly scan products at multiple steps in the process and instantly know if the color matches the shade they were aiming for. New products can even allow the USDA specifications to be loaded into the instrument, making measuring the color of peanut butter a treat.
Bakeries also utilize colorimeters for food industry color control to keep everything from cookies to burger buns the right shade of golden brown. In order to keep line workers in quality control from relying simply on their eyes and a photo of an ideal color, easy-to-use hand-held units allow companies to set their preferred color right into the device and quickly know if the goodies on the line match up.
Colorimeters, are ideal for helping manufacturers ensure their products have the right visual appeal and doneness perception. They can even help in sorting products to determine if produce is ripe or has begun to spoil. And like with the peanut butter, they can help measure the USDA grading and other standards on products like coffee, french fries, and tomatoes.
Such devices have the power to save hours of time monitoring food industry color control in one simple step, allowing consumers around the world to enjoy their groceries at first sight.


A client contacted Clark Engineers to check the design of a restaurant/truck stop under construction. The existing building consisted of two buildings built at different times with two cables each of different construction types. The client desired to replace the two cable roof with a single cable. The contractor attempted to do this without proper design and it was rejected by the local building code inspector. Based on a thorough investigation and analysis, it was found that this did not satisfy the building code and was inadequate.
Clark Engineers designed modifications to bring the building up current to code while using as much of the existing structure as possible to help control the costs.


WASHINGTON (AP) -- U.S. companies added the fewest jobs in four months in October, as construction and manufacturing firms continued to shed workers, a private survey says.
Payroll provider ADP said Wednesday that businesses added 147,000 jobs, down from 202,000 in September, a figure that was revised strongly higher.
October's hiring, while below last year's healthy pace, is enough to lower the unemployment rate over time. With the U.S. population aging, not as many jobs are required as in the past to keep up with population growth.
The data adds to signs that the economy is growing at a slow but sustained pace. Growth accelerated to a 2.9 percent annual rate in the July-September quarter, up from just 1.1 percent in the first half of the year. Americans are spending more, spurring healthy auto sales in September and last month.
Job gains have declined from last year's average of 230,000 a month. But monthly hiring of about 150,000 "is still a good, solid number," Mark Zandi, chief economist at Moody's Analytics, which compiles the ADP data, said. "The labor market continues to close in on full employment."
The hiring was led by hotels, restaurants and entertainment firms, which added 38,000 positions, followed by health care, which gained 34,000.
Manufacturers shed 1,000 jobs and construction companies cut 15,000. Factories have been slowly recovering from the impact of a stronger U.S. dollar, which makes their goods more expensive overseas. A report Monday showed that factory output and employment rose last month, but that may not translate into official job gains in Friday's report.
The ADP data cover only private businesses and often diverge from the official figures. Economists forecast that the government's jobs report, to be released Friday, will show a gain of 170,000 jobs, according to data provider FactSet. The unemployment rate is expected to decline to 4.9 percent, from 5 percent.


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hypostyle hĭp´əstīl, hī´pə– [key], the chamber in Egyptian temples in which a number of columns supported a flat stone roof. Forming the chief and largest inner space of the temple, it was entered from the outer courtyard and, in turn, gave access to the holy of holies and the small inner sanctuaries occupying the rear of the structure. Its columns were arranged to form a wide center aisle flanked by two or more side aisles, the center one rising higher than the others to permit clerestory lighting. The ruined temple of Amon at Al Karnak shows the most celebrated hypostyle hall, constructed in the XIX dynasty.


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The blue engine in Chuggington is Brewster. Brewster is the sensible and levelheaded trainee. Brewster is quite strong and is very disciplined and considerate.
We has a massive selection of products featuring Brewster from Chuggington.
We has a massive selection of books featuring Brewster from Chuggington.
This entry was posted in Boy's Party Ideas, Brewster, Cartoon Characters, CBeebies, Chuggington and tagged blue engine, Brewster, Brewster Chuggington, Cartoon Characters, CBeebies, Chuggington, Kids birthday parties. Bookmark the permalink.


We have such a focus on the benefits of exercise in terms of the appearance changes that take place on the outside of our bodies. However, do we ever think about the internal physical or mental changes or benefits that take place when we add physical exercise into our daily routine? For example exercise does not just help us lose weight or trim up, it also exercises one of the most important muscles in the body the heart. Exercises been shown to help with depression and anxiety. People who exercise regularly get endorphins after exercise, which can help decrease feelings of sadness or even minor depression.
Exercise also gives us the ability to create and form habits. The more habits that we establish, the more routine our life is, and so the less stress is actually on the body from everyday decisions.
Exercise usually leads to healthy eating. In combination with healthy eating. exercise can help reduce the risks of high blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, obesity, and arthritis just to name a few.
Exercise also gives us the opportunity to try new things. You may find inspiration to run a 5K, or join an exercise group, or even one day become an instructor to inspire other people. Group exercise is a great way to get into a exercise routine. The classes are at a set time and you will eventually get to know the people who attend. The personal connections you can make may be invaluable to your fitness journey, as you may find that the people in your life don't enjoy or understand your new love for exercise.
If you find that you have trouble starting your exercise or have trouble sticking to your routine, I suggest that you to find a friend or an exercise buddy; or even hire a personal trainer to get through those first few weeks until it's a habit.
Find ways to make exercise fun join a dance class or if you really love bike riding on find a trail or new route around your home that is easy to navigate on just a 10 speed bike. The easiest way that I have found to start an exercise routine is to simply start moving! Maybe you can start taking a walk at lunch every day or walk your dog after work every day.
Exercise doesn't have to be high impact or weight training or stressful moves. In fact when I started my fitness journey, I could barely run a hundred yards without getting out of breath. Slowly, I was able to gain endurance and with that I became interested in other forms of physical activity. I went on from there to join a Zumba class and I eventually got certified to teach. From there I got interested in Boot Camp and continued my journey in teaching with spin. I continue to find new ways to challenge myself. None of this would have happened had I not started my journey. There will always be someone better, stronger, fitter, but I don't compare myself with others. I exercise to become the best version of me and I encourage you to as well!


Don't be left behind in the paradigm shift from procedure coding to risk coding.
From concept to application, you'll learn about the complexities of HCC coding, diagnoses codes and risk codes, the interplay of quality all the way through to revenue.
Apply the reasoning to eliminate areas of ambiguity and potential confusion by using allowable elements from past medical histories, other areas of the medical records, as well as queries, to arrive at the optimal codes and documentation.
Prepare and execute on a contract level RADV audit, whether for Medicare Advantage or ACA / HHS marketplace.
1 * Advanced HCC Auditor.


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Great Point seeks to raise £200m to bankroll TV streaming boom
An investment trust dedicated to independent film and television finance aims to raise at least £200m in London to rouse a sleepy market for listings with optimism about streaming. The Great Point Entertainment Income Trust would be the first to float in London with a remit to bankroll content made for broadcasters and streaming services such as Netflix and Amazon. Jim Reeve, Great Point chief executive, intends to raise £200m-£250m and eventually up to £1bn, despite doubts over investor appetite for new offerings. Great Point, which was involved in financing disaster movie Greenland, is one of a number of groups aiming to tap investor interest in media content, including Guernsey incorporated US music publisher Round Hill Music Royalty Fund, which is seeking to list in the UK to raise $375m. Non-executives directors of the fund include Tamara Howe, a former executive at Vice TV and the BBC; Stephanie Mills, the former group financial controller of Channel 4; and Askandar Samad, a veteran media finance lawyer.
Make a complaint about Apple by viewing their customer service contacts.
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Two nights ago, I noticed that my boys, ages 10 and 13, looked—there is no other word for it—depressed. Two weeks ago, I wrote about their obsession with/addiction to Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, including this: "for all the seeming fantasy, what the game—most games?—embodies are the very same strictures surrounding American school and work life. Playing the game must be fun, too, I guess, but the real joy seems to be advancing to the next level—only to work toward surpassing that one, ad infinitum." But they didn't look happy now. My younger son should have been especially happy, because my older son had helped him beat a tough part, much to my chagrin—I've told them repeatedly that they should not play each other's turns or games, since the playing, not the winning, was the point. You wouldn't ask someone to eat your ice cream for you. They persisted anyway.
But now, they weren't down because they had lost.
They were down because they won. It turns out that they beat the game.
And with that victory, a kind of defeat: my doctorate of philosophy calls for a diagnosis of Existential Crisis, one that usually doesn't set in for another few years, the nagging, gnawing, corrosive question that sets in at adolescence and, in some cases, never ceases: Is That All There Is?
It turns out that once you get to the last level, beat the last villain (in video game parlance, "Boss," which seems weirdly Marxist to me), and rescue Zelda, the credits roll (Dear Fellow Old People: video games have credits), and play simply starts over at the beginning again.
I asked them: what did you think would happen? The point of the game was, as always, to kill monsters, beat bosses, acquire money ("Rupees," which seems weirdly Asian Subcontinent), and move one level closer to finding Zelda. It couldn't go on forever, could it? Did they think victory would reveal a secret code for a secret club or secret game? That a crisp $20 bill would pop out of the Wii? No, but—and here I paraphrase—they didn't think that winning the game would feel so much like losing it. Not just emotionally—really, all that happens after you win is that you go back to where you started, same as when you lose.
The nature of the character in a novel cannot be presented any better than is done in this statement, which says that the "meaning" of his life is revealed only in his death. But the reader of a novel actually does look for human beings from whom he derives the "meaning of life." Therefore he must, no matter what, know in advance that he will share their experience of death: if need be their figurative death—the end of the novel—but preferably their actual one. How do the characters make him understand that death is already waiting for them—a very definite death and at a very definite place? That is the question which feeds the reader's consuming interest in the events of the novel.
In other words, as human beings we can never understand the full significance of our own lives, because we must live them, from our perspective, and can't reflect on our own ending, because we're, ya know, dead. But we can contemplate the full life, objectively, of a fictional character, because the beginning and end of the story delineate the full beginning and end of their existence. And so through fiction—the figurative deaths that are stories and the more real but still fictional deaths of characters, we may understand something big—Death!—that, by its very nature, eludes our grasp, and therefore we may take comfort. As Benjamin concludes, "What draws the reader to the novel is the hope of warming his shivering life with a death he reads about." It's uplifting. Really. So we think that we're sad when our favorite characters die or our favorite stories end, but we also, on another level, feel good, or, if you're Aristotle, experience catharsis, a purging of the bad emotions, once you're through.
But video games seem not to provide Benjamin's comfort, Aristotle's catharsis, or Kermode's closure at all. There is no Once Upon a Time or Happily Ever After, only the grim, relentless Middle—just like our own real lives. As I wrote in the other blog, main character Link looks and seems a lot like Peter Pan. But it's not just the pointy ears and pointy weapons, the green clothes, or the shock of hair. Like all video game characters, and like Peter Pan, Link is, for all intents and purposes, immortal and eternally youthful. You could make the same case, I guess, for all fictional characters—that they revert to being alive and young when you start the book or movie again. But that's symbolic. Thanks to endless "lives"—the word gamers use—and concomitant reincarnation (a word no one uses) with each reset or replay, Link lives, and dies, again and again and again. As a father, I find no sentence weighs heavier on my heart than when one of the boys tells me, when their game time is over, that "I'll just play until I die." He'd like that, I suppose. The shift to first person—"I" die, not "Link dies" or even "my game ends"—makes clear that the games are about defying death, but they also focus relentlessly, discordantly, on death itself.
You thought you had it rough?
Time: It looked like I was gonna finish in 50 minutes, but then I decided I wanted to find the Benjamin and Kermode quotes that you probably didn't read anyway, which took me overtime to 75 minutes. I'll finish faster the next time I play.
I missed my chance to get into Legend of Zelda when it first appeared. And—heresy!—I'm more a fan of the Lord of the Rings movies than books. I did have two big Dungeons & Dragons years, when I was 11 and 12, before discovering heavy metal, which in retrospect wasn't that big a jump. And I've reread Peter Pan again and again—JM Barrie's, not Walt Disney's, little egomaniac, the one who brags about all the pirates he's killed and thinks that "to die would be an awfully big adventure"—notions that would be sociopathic coming from an adult but seem naive, even endearing from a child. And I'm really enjoying Adventure Time.
Finn's name was Pen in the pilot. Too close to Pan?
The similarities in description and appearance between Zelda's Link, LoTR's Legolas, Peter Pan, and Adventure Time's Finn are plain enough, even down to recurring greenleaf jammies (with Finn alone feeling blue). Real-life Orlando Bloom stands on one end of the realism spectrum, and Finn—whose head is pretty much a Have a Nice Day button in a pillowcase—seems barely more than a sketch (and his flowing golden locks appear only once, as far as I know, as a kind of punchline). Yet I'm more interested in what they suggest about the intersection between coming of age and morality, to say nothing of coming of age and mortality.
As a videogame character, Link is the least ambiguous. After watching my kids play Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword and asking them a battery of increasingly annoying questions, it seems a pretty standard quest narrative. While it looks more interactive than good ol' Super Mario Bros.—which is culturally where my familiarity with video games ends—the plot, as usual, boils down to: Save the Princess. In fairness, it looks like 25 years of progress has revised the plot a little—Link and Zelda are now looking for each other, rather than the straightup damsel in distress scenario. But there's still the jumping, the shooting and slashing, the accumulation of life and money toward the possibility of advancing to the next stage. So it's interesting that for all the seeming fantasy, what the game—most games?—embodies are the very same strictures surrounding American school and work life. Playing the game must be fun, too, I guess, but the real joy seems to be advancing to the next level—only to work toward surpassing that one, ad infinitum. The kids are hooked, but this is surely someone's version of hell. Yes, the levels advance, but the methods of advancing seem limited to killing monsters. This is not so different from Legolas, whose job in the film is also, it seems, to kill monsters, tally the points, and, like Link, look like a Pantene model in the process.
On Adventure Time's episode "What Have You Done," Princess Bubblegum—whom Finn, needless to say, saved in the Pilot but with whom he has since had a more or less egalitarian relationship—tells Finn that he has to make the Ice King—a kind of cartoonish, buffoonish Saruman voiced by SpongeBob—scream and cry. Finn sees the request as cruel and uncharacteristic. In what seems like a throwaway line, Finn says, "I can't just beat up the Ice King for no reason. That's against my alignment!" And with that, we see the sly, subversive morality at work that makes Adventure Time the true link—as opposed to Link—and legatee—as opposed to Legolas—to Peter Pan.
As geeks everywhere remember, in Dungeons & Dragons players chose their characters' moral category, called alignment, as casually as they chose their accessories, another option of many, ethics as capricious option. In the Basic version of the game, there were three alignments—Lawful, Neutral, and Chaotic. In retrospect, the choices are more interesting than I thought at the time, since they eschew the obvious binary of Good and Evil. Alignment here seems more akin to how well and closely people hew to rules—which, given that D&D was, in fact, a game, seems fair enough. The Advanced version of the game, though, introduced more, and more complex, alignments, and thereby created more trouble. You now had two categories, with one from column A and one from column B, Chinese menu morality. The Category A remained Lawful, Neutral, and Chaotic, but now you had to add the B of Good, Neutral, and Evil. This creates the possibility, first, of the redundant Neutral Neutral category, which seems to encompass only Switzerland. But it also creates seemingly contradictory categories like Chaotic Good and Lawful Evil.
But anything was possible—a Chaotic Good character was Machiavellian, capable of breaking rules for the greater good, while a Lawful Evil character was law-abiding but in the service of dark forces. As a kid, I never thought much about Alignment and just had the characters behave as I would, which was, obviously, Lawful Good.
Yet the purpose of the game, as it borrowed from Lord of the Rings and as Legend of Zelda would eventually borrow from it, was to move the quest forward and advance to the next, escalating challenge. And the only ways to do that, as it was for Legolas and would be for Link, were acquiring gold and killing everything in sight. In D&D, nothing you fought could ever be innocent. Only the characters—and the human players hiding behind those avatars—could be. What Finn alone realized is that the world, and its concomitant quagmire of morality, is complex. One obvious good, loyalty—here, following the orders of a trusted friend and Princess—directly contradicted another, equally obvious good, justice—not harming someone without known cause, even if that someone was a total creep like the Ice King. Adventure Time, for all its often satirical, winking references to a post-Peter Jackson/George Lucas/Stephen Spielberg world of stories, nevertheless transcends its cartoon morality.
Carl Jung was pretty thorough in his archetypes, but he left out forest-dwelling towheaded swashbuckling perpetual-adolescents. Taken together, they represent an interesting combination of Jung's Hero and Innocent, a counterintuitive combination. [UPDATE: see Comments section!] For Jung, the Innocent (or Child) must undergo an Initiation. But unlike the folkloric tradition, these four blondes never move on; like their model Peter Pan, they remain youthful and ready to repeat neverending initiations—adventures. By the end of "What Have You Done," everything works out for Finn, and the moral universe makes sense again. His Lawful Good remains untarnished. Peter Pan is gleefully Chaotic, but against the unambiguous evil of the pirates, he is positioned as still Good. But can Legolas or Link truly be called Lawful without any sense of legality's labyrinths? Morality, unlike games and archetypal plots, is rarely linear or sequential. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then its mortar is moral certainly.
No wonder these characters, despite whatever age they may be, all personify youth. No wonder they never age. No wonder there is never a final level, last episode, concluding installment. It was easy for me to be sure I was Lawful Good when I was eleven, too.
Time: 60 minutes. This was a tough one to write, maybe because I don't know these topics as well as previous ones.
UPDATE 1/31/12: I wrote a followup to this entry, about Link, death, and video games, called Game Over: When Bad Things Happen to Good Video Game Characters.
When is the last time you've been chased—not figuratively, not tag, not because you had the ball, but because someone was actually after you physically, legs whirling arms pumping heart readytoexplodeinyourchest? When you were a kid, bullies after school, or maybe a neighbor's dog? Once? A few times? Or were you the one doing the chasing—you were the bully, or the dog? For me, the answers are never and never.
Let me ask you something else. When is the last time you saw a movie involving a chase? Unless you like subtitles, chances are that it is, in fact, the last time you saw a movie. I just saw Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. Just as action sequels have abandoned Roman numerals for the academic paper style of Title-Colon-Subtitle, MI: GP has also ditched any pretense of plot or character in favor of adrenaline uncut by the tedium of story. A maniac wants to start a nuclear war to protect our precious bodily fluids. Or not. This maniac's reason was… I forget. It's really not that important. It's only there to get people chasing each other.
The characters are aforementioned Maniac, as well as Tom Cruise (Tom Cruise), The Girl (Paula Patton), Comic Relief (Simon Pegg), and The Other Guy (Jeremy Renner). Don't get me wrong—I liked the movie, a lot. But if a Modernist like Proust and contemporary novelist like Don DeLillo also seem to have abandoned plot, it is because, in part, they created a self reflective response to modernity's ontological paralysis. MI:GP does the opposite: non-reflective, nonstop motion. So maybe I was hasty to say that MI has jettisoned plot. Really, what it has done is revealed what Aristotle in his poor-quality running sandals didn't enumerate: all plot is chase, all chase is plot. Contemporary movies just ditch the pretentions.
Case in point. MI's opening: a cleaned up looking Sawyer from Lost being chased and, later in flashback, chasing. A prison break-out scene, with lots of chasing. A Kremlin break-in scene, featuring—chases! Also: chasing—in a sandstorm! In a car! In a car in a sandstorm! At a fancy party, for some reason! Down an escalator into traffic! In a futuristic self-parking multi-storey car garage, which was actually cooler than it sounds. OK, one (pretty awesome) scene, with Tom Cruise climbing a sheer glass skyscraper from the outside, was not strictly speaking a chase scene, although it was A Race Against Time. I guess.
Of course, other movies have been pretty up front about chase-as-plot/plot-as-chase. Tom (of … and Jerry) and Wile E Coyote have no delusions of their Sisyphean existences. Run Lola Run was just that. Catch Me if You Can won't be sued for false advertising, even if, in the end, it turned out to be a developed character sketch of the symbiotic, symbolically familial relationship between chaser and chasee. (This does not happen, for example, in MI.) And the movie that first got me thinking that I've wasted my life watching chase scenes was, of all things, The Tourist, which has even less illusion of plot and character than MI:GP. The Matt Damon oeuvre consists primarily of running, sometimes with MD half glancing over his shoulder at who is pursuing him, at other times giving the full head turn, and, in a radical genre revision, The Adjustment Bureau features Damon holding Emily Blunt's hand while being chased and doing head-turns.
It's all very Green Eggs and Ham: So I will chase them in a box. And I will chase them with a fox. And I will chase them in a house. And I will chase them with a mouse. And I will chase them here and there. Say! I will chase them ANYWHERE!
But why is this entertaining—and it is—once you're over, like, four? There's the evolutionary biological approach to why we should really run for, you know, exercise (watching other people run doesn't count, I guess), as espoused and popularized by my brother, Al Kavadlo, personal trainer and body philosopher. Or, as no less than the New York Times reported (link found courtesy of Al), neo-cave men are exercising via brief bursts of cardio "to replicate how a prehistoric person might have fled from a mastodon." Especially if that mastodon has a high-caliber handgun, or those cave men need to chase that mastodon for food. Or better yet, if the mastodon has a briefcase with the Soviet nuclear launch codes.
There's also the problem of middles. Beginnings of stories are, in their way, easy. Not easy as in anyone can think of them, but easy in the sense that if you don't have one, you don't actually have any story at all yet. So you simply have to have your premise, your setting, your mise en scene, your dramatic situation. Then once you have that, you also have your ending already mostly in place. Hollywood conventions dictate that in the end, the status quo must be restored: the nuclear disaster averted, life going on as though nothing happened. The end of MI: GP even states as much—Comic Relief is incredulousness that no one realizes that they were this close to annihilation, which is really [snort] more cosmic irony than humor, Comic Relief. The same is true in superhero, police procedural, and monster movies: the end means villains vanquished, life reverts to pre-movie normal.
So it's really the middle—in screenwriting parlance, the second act—that causes trouble. How do we get from the opening's disruption to the ending's restoration? The best way seems to be: Run There. Even those darling Pixar movies all have the same middle—a long, madcap chase scene. It's a kind of immediate quest narrative, with the quest's moving object continuously, tantalizingly out of reach. Or a physical enactment of Derrida's difference. Or performing the id's eternal ceaseless WANT IT NOW AND I WILL CHASE YOU TO GET IT.
So, what's the best way to get from Act One to Act Three? Taking a car is acceptable as long as you total it. Better yet, if there's conflict, Run. But by God, far better than Tom Hanks, that guy Tom Cruise can run, as a few posters on YouTube have already noticed.
The first third of MI:GP is just running foreplay before Cruise finally tears after someone, and he is still riveting to watch as he runs. Johnny Depp's runs vary according to his character (Jack Sparrow=predictably flouncy; the tourist=artificially self-conscious), and Matt Damon, for all the Bourne Adjustments, still looks like he wants to smile like he's in a stupid race. But Tom Cruise genuinely looks as though the fate of the world hangs on his every ephemeral step. He's an old-fashioned locomotive, all moving pistons and visible machinery, heat and steam rising, picking up speed so that he's creaky at first but after a few seconds you can't believe how nimble and quick he still is.
It's a snapshot of how I feel about all chase movies—my first response is, This again? But when it's over, I think, This! Again!
Time: 70 minutes. I'm over time. But how can you interrupt Tom Cruise running?


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Spotlight on Local History: Little Flower High School and Catholic Girls' Education in Philadelphia
Free via Zoom Register now. Philadelphia has served as a national leader in Catholic education for three centuries. This presentation will trace the history of...
2021 Commodore John Barry Award Dinner
Honoring Most Reverend Nelson J. Pérez, DD Archbishop of Philadelphia Every year, the Board of Managers presents the Barry Award to an individual who meet a rigid...
Friday | November 19, 2021
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