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Bewitching Trick-Or-Treat Blog Hop
Happy Halloween, everyone, and welcome to the Bewitching Trick-or-Treat Blog Hop! I don't know about you, but this is absolutely one of my favorite holidays. I've always been a huge fan of anything paranormal, so it makes sense that this time of year would be right up my alley. There's just something about the general spookiness of the season that gives me the happy shivers. And when else can we dress up and not have folks look at us askance? As a kid, I remember how much fun it was deciding what my costume would be. Most of the time my costumes would be homemade, and I had to be creative with putting them together. Probably my all time favorite was when I was in high school, and decided to go as a mad scientist, and my best friend was my "experiment". I was able to borrow a lab coat from my science teacher and I dumped a whole bottle of baby powder in my hair--which by the way, I don't recommend because it's a bugger to get out and makes you look like you've got a wicked case of dandruff. But I digress.
So on to my contest...
For your chance to win an epically cool Zombie Smuthound tote bag designed by the brilliant Kyla Holt of Kyla Novelista fame that's filled with author swag, candy and an autographed copy of That Voodoo You Do, just leave me a comment with what your favorite Halloween costume of all time would be. Sorry, due to shipping costs, this contest is limited to US and Canda, but any International entrants can enter for a digital copy of That Voodoo You Do. Winner will be picked and posted at end of blog hop, so be sure to include an email address for me to contact you in your comments. Thanks and good luck!
Also, don't forget to click on the Blog Hop graphic to move on to the next stop on the hop!
Posted by Jodi Redford at 4:00 AM 27 comments: Links to this post
Labels: Bewitching Trick-Or-Treat Blog Hop, contest
Getting Familiar With Your Demon--Review ARCs!
I'll be sending out review ARCs for Getting Familiar With Your Demon around mid-December. If you have a review blog, and/or post on GoodReads, Amazon, etc and would be interested in getting on the list for GFWYD, just shoot me an email here. Not sure if Getting Familiar With Your Demon is your cup of tea? Then check out the blurb and excerpt snippit below:
That Old Black Magic, Book 4
Coming this February from Samhain Publishing
He should push her away...but he'd rather have his wicked way with her.
After too many years learning death from the inside out as the familiar of a voodoo queen, soul collector Samael Gorasola betrayed his boss, which landed him on demon death row.
He should have known not even his punishment would come easy, but the deal he's offered to escape his fate stinks. Become the indentured servant to his despised enemy? No thanks, he'd rather be six feet under. With that in mind, he picks a deadly fight with two demon hunters, only to be rescued by one misguided, deliciously innocent white witch.
Marabella hasn't a clue what possessed her to help Sam, particularly since he's not the least bit grateful. She blames it on her overwhelming attraction to the dark, dangerous demon, and her exasperating quest to rid herself of the stubborn curse that guards her virginity. If the guild finds out, though, she can kiss her white-witch status goodbye.
A kiss is exactly what she gets, followed by a consuming hunger that breaks down all heavenly and earthly barriers…and leaves Sam saddled with the one thing he never wanted, a conscience, and a connection to Marabella that puts her soul on the line.
Warning: This book contains torturous use of disco music, one sinfully sexy demon who revels in being bad, a virgin witch whose innocence runs more than skin deep, and plenty of wicked, forbidden sex with explosive side effects—literally.
Samael Gorasola grimaced as the blaring strains of It's Raining Men pounded through the speakers recessed in the walls of his prison cell. There weren't many things that made him yearn for a quick, merciful death. Not even the three-centuries-old demon currently torturing him. Disco music on the other hand—where was a damn bullet to the brain when he needed one?
Right on cue, Toran joined in on the chorus with a piercing falsetto that was akin to sharp toothpicks jabbing into Sam's corneas. Sam gritted his teeth. Fucking. Kill. Me. Now.
A series of crackles fizzled and spit through the air, and a second later the charged wires of Toran's whip snapped across the exposed skin on Sam's back, sizzling his flesh with white-hot agony. Despite his best efforts to cage it, Sam's pained roar broke loose. At least the sound momentarily drowned out the horrendous music.
"What's the matter, Gorasola? Can't take the heat?" A grating laugh rumbled from the punishment master. Sam didn't know what he despised more—Toran's shitty taste in music or incredibly lame sense of humor. The whip whistled across Sam again, almost masking the patronizing drone of Toran's voice. "I'm going to miss you when you're dead, Gorasola. Who the hell will give me the same delight in torturing than you?"
"Imagine you'll find someone." Damn dickhead.
A heavy clang reverberated, and Sam tensed, thinking it was Toran increasing the whip's voltage—or worse, cranking up the sound system. Instead, a distinctly feminine cough echoed in the chamber.
"Forgive the interruption, Master Toran." Pricilla Roundtree's cold, haughty tone provoked Sam into grinding his molars. Eighteen hours of Toran's harshest punishment while a continuous loop of It's Raining Men played in the background held more appeal than a single second spent in Pricilla's presence. The demon king's personal secretary was a poisoned thorn in his side. One that refused to be extracted.
"Mistress Roundtree." Toran's voice dripped with enough ass-kissing grovel to give Sam a serious case of indigestion.
"I'm here to speak with Samael. Could you give us a moment?"
"Certainly. Do you want me to chain the prisoner to the wall?"
"No, I'll handle him myself."
Sam didn't care for the acid sweetness in Pricilla's statement—and the notion of her handling any part of him made his flesh crawl—but balking would only earn him another electrified bite from Toran's whip.
"Very well," Toran offered reluctantly. "If Gorasola gives you any problem, I'll be down the hall."
"I'm sure Samael will be on his best behavior."
A grunt fell from Toran, more than relaying his thoughts on the idea of Sam being anything less than a troublesome pain in the ass. Heavy footsteps tromped across the stone floor, and a second later the music fell mute. The cell door clanked again, announcing the punishment master's departure. Pricilla stepped closer, and her heavy, cloying scent of gardenia ambushed him.
"Hello, Samael." Sharp-tipped fingernails scored the scythe-shaped gun tattooed on Sam's back, making him flinch. "It's been a while. Missed me?"
"About as much as I miss that damn disco music."
A bucket of ice contained more warmth than Pricilla's laugh. Her fingers dug into him, making him wince. "Is that any way to speak to the individual who holds the deed to your life?"
Every muscle in his body seized. "What?"
"It took some doing, but I persuaded the king to sign your contract over to me rather than execute you." Pricilla traced the line of his spine before ruffling his hair in a way that was entirely too territorial. "I own you now, Samael."
To say the thought left him far from warm and fuzzy was a severe understatement. "I'd rather be dead."
"You wound me with this unprovoked hatred."
"Unprovoked?" Being flat on his belly atop the metal torture table made him less threatening than a toothless dog. Still, it didn't muzzle him enough to stop the growl from slipping past his throat. "You went behind my back and revoked my petition to have my contract with Antoinette Delacroix severed, you viperous bitch."
Pricilla's clawlike nails dug into his skull, creating a painful sting he couldn't readily ignore. "Mind your tongue. As for your complaint and petition, I saw no reason for the king to allow it, just because your mistress was a ghost. You're a demon familiar and a soul collector, Samael. Your duty was clear. If you'd simply done as told instead of taking matters into your own hands, you wouldn't be where you are now."
In other words, neck-deep in a pile of shit. Sam's jaw clenched hard enough to trigger a cramp. Fuck me. Aiding in the permanent demise of Antoinette Delacroix hadn't been one of his more brilliant moments. But damn if he wouldn't do it all over again. Eternal punishment was a small price to pay for packing Nettie's spirit off to hell. Served the damn bitch right after making it her mission in life—and death—to ensure his existence was mired in misery. The past six months were a vacation compared to being under her thumb all those years.
Only now it looked like he'd be under an even worse one. For devil's sake, would someone damn well kill me already?
The bindings around his right wrist suddenly slackened before releasing him entirely. Rolling onto his side, he glared at Pricilla. She was dressed in a tailored black pantsuit, her only concession to color provided by her scarlet lipstick. Even the coal-dark hair pulled into a rigid bun was in keeping with her all-black ensemble. No doubt she'd chosen the color to match her heart. Assuming she possessed one.
He stretched his fingers, attempting to work out the kinks. "If you expect me to bow at your feet for the honor of being your slave, you'll have to undo the rest of my manacles."
Judging from the tightening of her lips, his sarcasm hadn't missed its target. "I'd start acting more grateful, if I were you. I'm not averse to inviting Toran back in here to give you a proper farewell."
He was leaving? Now? For the first time in what felt like forever, a spark of hope flickered within Sam. Five minutes ago, before Pricilla came waltzing in with her pronouncement, the prospect of seeing a world beyond his dank prison cell was an absurd dream. He'd resigned himself to this existence. It'd been easier that way. But now that he was being offered another chance…it seemed too good to be true.
The reminder of the role Pricilla played in his newfound freedom smothered his rising spirits. Of course it was too good to be true. Because he wasn't really free. Not as long as he was beholden to the damn bitch.
"I see from your scowl you're not pleased with our arrangement." Pricilla's mouth curled upward. If an asp could smile, it'd look exactly like the calculating devil spawn. "No matter. You're still mine to command. Better get used to it, Samael."
Command. The damnable word hazed his vision with red. He was tired of doing the bidding of others. Of being nothing more than a fucking errand boy to one asshole after another. It used to mean something, being a soul collector. A title to be proud of. Now his status felt like a noose, vising tighter and tighter.
As if she'd read his torturous thoughts, Pricilla stepped to the other side of the table and ran her fingertips over his tattoo—the official seal of his now-despised title. The coldness of her touch leached into him like a condemnation. "I have great plans in store for you, Samael Gorasola. Just you wait."
Posted by Jodi Redford at 2:10 PM 3 comments: Links to this post
Labels: Getting Familiar With Your Demon
Sneak Peek at Getting Familiar With Your Demon
For those of you who follow me on Twitter, you might have heard me wax poetic about my newest book boyfriend, Sam. Well, now I finally get to share a little bit of him with you! Get your dirty minds out of the gutter, I didn't mean it like that. Alas, I have no cover to show off yet, but word has it that the cover goddess herself, Kanaxa, is working on it as we speak! I will have much squeeing to share with you soon, my pretties. In the meantime, I'll just have to substitute my lovely Alessandro in Sam's place.
He's a real hardship to look at, eh?
Getting Familiar With Your Demon
Less than an hour later, Sam walked out of the Demon Detainment Center. Or as he'd fondly come to refer to it the past six months—his shithole away from home. The blazing sun was an assault compared to the weak fluorescent lighting in his cell. He squinted, wishing for his polarized Ray-Bans. His favorite shades conveniently came up missing from the pile of belongings that'd been returned to him at checkout. If he found out which of the guards had filched the sunglasses, someone would be getting the remainder of their meals fed to them through a straw.
He flexed his arm, not quite used to the absence of the manacles and the cuff that'd blocked his ability to transport—just one of the many tools of the trade that came with his soul-collector status. The last thing he'd expected was for Pricilla to allow for the removal of the cuff. Of course, now that he was her damn beck-and-call boy, it wasn't as if he could take advantage of the situation and pop down to some tropical isle and lay low with a bevy of busty beauties in skimpy bikinis. His luck, Pricilla would call him to her side the minute he started getting cozy with the local scenery. Shit knows it'd been Nettie's favorite pastime, yanking him around on the invisible leash that'd chained him to her. Safe to say Pricilla would be no better.
He wished like hell he knew what good ole Pris was up to. Why she wanted him badly enough to seize control of his familiar contract. She hadn't elaborated beyond her cryptic promise in his cell. Not that he'd expected her to. As a general rule, demons weren't quick to spill their plans. Distrusting assholes, the whole lot of them. Himself included.
Especially himself. Setting his jaw, he mentally flipped the bird to the building behind him before teleporting to the front entry of his Savannah bachelor pad. The small bungalow had always been his private sanctum—the one place where he could kick back and enjoy a little R&R on the rare occasions Antoinette hadn't dispatched him on a soul hunt.
So he was suitably annoyed when he spotted his cousins—Nikki and Cassidy Lassiter—lounging on his leather sectional, looking very much at home. He took in the scuffed combat boots Nikki had propped on the lacquered coffee table.
A growl crept up his throat. "What the fuck are you doing squatting in my place?"
Both sisters jumped, but it was Nikki who first leapt into a fighting stance. The instant her eyes locked on him, her mouth dropped and she lowered her fists. "Sam?"
"Who the hell else were you expecting? This is my damn house." His scowl deepened as he noticed the discarded greasy pizza carton and crumpled potato chip bag littering the floor. No doubt both were courtesy of Nikki. She might be one of the best grim reapers in the biz, but she was also a fucking slob. "Nice to see you've been partying in my absence."
Cassidy broke from her stupor and tore across the room before ambushing him with a fierce hug. While the gesture softened his foul mood a fraction, it also reminded him his body hurt like the devil. He winced, something Cass didn't fail to observe. She pulled back and eyed him, her expression sharp with concern. Usually she was the quieter, gentler Lassiter sibling, but at the moment her fiery gaze nearly matched the color of her hair. "What did those bastards do to you?"
"Yeah, you look like shit," Nikki added in her typical blunt fashion. She strode toward them, the reaper cuffs anchored to her belt loop giving a metallic clank as they bounced against her hip. "Please tell me you got in a few punches of your own, and the asswipe who roughed you up at least looks worse than you do."
"Yeah, he does," Sam grunted. "But only because Toran was born ugly." He extricated himself from Cass's grasp and limped toward the couch, only to slam to a standstill when he spied the blank section of wall where his fifty-inch flat-screen used to be. "Where the hell is my TV?"
"I moved it into the guestroom." Nikki shrugged in response to his glower. "I like to watch The Tonight Show, and you didn't have a set in there."
His blood pressure spiked into the danger zone. Damn it, he'd just endured six months of torture. Was it too much to ask to come home and not find his private sanctum overtaken by moocher relatives? "Put the TV back."
Nikki's forehead scrunched. "How will I keep up on Leno?"
"From your own damn bedroom, that's how."
"Sorry, no can do, dude. Cass is on the outs with Pops again, and I'm here for moral support."
For fuck's sake. Sam plowed a hand through his hair as his last shred of patience shuttled off to Hawaii. Without him, damn it.
Roughly every other month Cassidy and her dad fought over her adamancy about not joining the family business. At the moment, Sam more than understood her decision to steer clear of soul reaping, but he was too cranky and tired to give much of a shit about her personal problems.
"You're not living here." He transferred his glare to Nikki. "That goes double for you, Pig-Pen."
"Sheesh, getting tortured makes you grouchier than usual." Nikki cocked her head to the side and considered him. "How did you get out of there, anyway?"
He narrowed his eyes. "If I tell you, will you leave?"
"Mmm, possibly."
He was desperate enough to take his chances. Five minutes later he'd laid out the gory details of his new unglorified status as Pricilla's familiar. Cass and Nikki were suitably horrified and sympathetic, but they made no move toward packing their belongings so they could hustle their asses out of his home.
Weary defeat sat heavier than a one-ton boulder in his gut. Shit, he was never going to get rid of them. What was it with females and their incessant desire to make his life a living hell? "I'm going to take a shower." He shot Nikki a warning stare. "Your ass is grass if my TV isn't on that wall when I come back out here."
Nikki only rolled her eyes. His teeth in danger of being ground to dust, he staggered into his bedroom. He was gratified to see it looked exactly the same as he'd left it. He'd half expected to find it redecorated in hot pink and fuchsia, with giant stuffed teddy bears or fucking fluffy purple bunnies strewn on his bed.
Damn women.
He shrugged from his grungy shirt, his bruised and battered muscles screaming a fit. Grimacing, he dropped the filthy garment and started toward the bathroom. He managed two steps across the carpet before his gaze landed on the dresser. Or more to the point, the second drawer down. The one that held the sum total of his life's greatest achievement. And ultimate downfall.
No matter how hard he struggled to resist the calling, his feet still edged him in the direction of the dresser. He yanked open the drawer and stared at the specially commissioned Smith & Wesson revolver resting on a stack of neatly folded T-shirts.
Lucy.
Some males named their cars or boats. He named his gun. Fingers cramping slightly, he reached for the revolver. His palm absorbed the familiar coldness of the steel. It'd been six months since he'd held Lucy. He'd never gone that long without having her close by. Hell, she'd practically been an extension of his hand for seventy-eight years.
His thumb brushed the smooth wood grain of the handle, relearning its texture. How many damn souls had he confiscated with Lucy's aid? Too fucking many to count. Most hadn't meant a damn thing to him, just casualties to his profession. The only one that'd cracked through his dispassionate shell had been Nettie. Oh yeah, taking out that bitch had been sweeter than sweet.
Although he knew the dual barrels were empty, he spun the cylinders open, each hollow click of the revolving chambers increasing the tension in his gut. He still vividly recalled the day the demon council handed him Lucy and he officially received the branding on his back to seal his status. That simplistic tattoo was a pale shadow of the design he wore now—the end result of a drunken whim many moons ago, before his life really went down the shitter. He'd been stupid to think his rebellious decision to cover up the old tat with one of his own doing somehow made him the wielder of his own future. Owner of his own damn body.
What a fucking crock that was. Nothing would change the fact he'd signed over all rights when he'd followed the long-standing Gorasola tradition of becoming soul collectors. The hell of it was that he had been happy in the beginning. As was required of all demon soul collectors, he'd found a voodoo priestess to sanction his status in return for his services as her familiar. Lucinda Delacroix had more than fit the bill, and he'd actually liked her. Enough to even name his damn gun after her, for some asinine, sentimental reason. That was back when he'd been less jaded and cynical. Back before Lucinda's devil spawn, Nettie, poisoned her mother so she could inherit all of Lucinda's worldly goods—including Sam. The forty-eight years that followed with Nettie as his mistress were a slow spiral into the endless shit that became his existence, culminating with his present circumstance.
Growling, he slammed the chambers back in place on his revolver and tossed Lucy into the drawer before ramming it shut. First chance he got, he was renaming his damn gun. Chuck, Frank, Melvin. He didn't give a rat's ass, as long as it was anything other than another female. He'd learned his lesson dealing with that particular gender. Damn women were nothing but bad news. It certainly didn't take another six months on execution row to convince him of that sad reality.
Weariness dragging at his limbs, he stripped off the remainder of his clothes and climbed into the shower stall. Hot water pounded his battered body, and he groaned as the heat temporarily banished his aches. Too bad all the other bullshit foisted on him today couldn't be so easily swirled down the drain.
After cranking off the water, he snagged a towel, dried off and changed into clean jeans and a black T-shirt. He headed into the hallway, fully intending to grab a cold brew from the fridge, but the sound of Nikki and Cass arguing in the kitchen stalled him short. A tidal wave of irritation welled inside him. What was the world coming to that he couldn't get drunk in the peace and quiet of his own home? Clenching his jaw with enough force to cause a painful spasm, he returned to his room and dug his wallet out of the nightstand drawer. A quick check verified that none of his money was missing. Damn good thing too, because with the mood he was in, there might have been bloodshed if Nikki or Cassidy had absconded with his cash.
After tucking his billfold in his back pocket, he teleported to the rear alley of his favorite watering hole, Champions. The only ones around to witness his sudden appearance were the family of stray cats scrounging in the dumpsters, and they seemed more interested in the discarded scraps than they were in him. He rounded the side of the building and stepped through the entrance. Grungy heavy metal pounded from the jukebox, providing a welcome respite to his ears after the months of crappy disco music he'd endured. He edged through the sea of patrons and slowed to a stop when he spotted Ian and Jasper Quint sitting at the bar.
A sharp spike of frustration slammed him between the shoulder blades. Of all the fucking nights to run into the two biggest pain-in-the-ass demon hunters known to mankind. To make matters worse, the last time he'd crossed paths with the brothers, Jasper managed to stab Sam in the shoulder. The flesh wound hadn't been anything too serious, but it still chapped Sam's ass that Jasper got the better of him.
Any other night, he'd love the opportunity to even the score with the Quint brothers and prove once and for all that it'd take a lot more than fancy footwork and a damn KA-BAR blade to take a Gorasola down.
Sam's gaze tracked to the unmistakable outline of the knife strapped beneath the leg of Jasper's jeans. Rather than give in to the urge to bid adieu to the bar and the two hunters who'd given him endless grief throughout the years, Sam hesitated, his words from earlier spinning in his head with taunting clarity. For devil's sake, would someone damn well kill me already?
Sam continued to stare at Jasper's and Ian's profiles until a cold, grim purpose spread through his chest. Well shit. Who said there was only one way to skin a cat?
Or kill a demon.
Maximum Witch is now available!
It's been a crazy busy week, and during it all I forgot to squee and holler here about Maximum Witch releasing on Tuesday. As they say, better late than never, so...
Yaaaaaaaayyyy!!!!
Now that I've got that out of the way, here's a blurb and sexy little peek at Maximum Witch.
Who says getting eaten by a shark is a bad thing?
Willa Jameson is having one whopper of an identity crisis. Odd memory flashes that aren't hers. A sultry voice in her head that's obsessed with sex. Even weirder, she finds herself in the jaws of a rogue leviathan, dragged to the bottom of the ocean—and rescued by a hunky…shark?
The last thing Sheriff Max Truitt expects to find on his daily, deep-Atlantic patrol is a human—especially one who breathes underwater. Compelled to take her home, he waits for the beauty to wake up and reveal her name. Instead he's treated to a punch in the nose, then a sexy romp hot enough to boil water.
The next morning, embarrassed by the sizzling, scandalous things the voice in her head drove her to do, Willa slips away. But if there's one thing a determined shark excels at, it's tracking his favorite meal.
Solving the mystery that is Willa is no simple task. When they finally unlock a dangerous secret hidden deep in her subconscious, it drives a wedge between them…and puts them in a desperate race against an evil that seeks to rain down a watery Armageddon on all mankind.
Warning: This book does not contain sex with a puffer fish. There's not even sex with a seahorse. However, there's plenty of smoking-hot lovin' with a shark. And even a steamy M/F/M threesome. So slap on your snorkels and swim fins, things are about to get wet and wild.
She watched Max stride to the pick-up window and collect their sack of food and beverages, her trepidation coiling like a tight spring. Her life was slowly unraveling around her, and she didn't know how to stop it. How to make things normal again.
It seemed incomprehensible that a little over a week ago none of this had been an issue. Her head had been blessedly void of seductive voices whispering things she didn't understand. Sure, her job had been stressful as always, but she could handle all of that stuff. It was this total lack of control that was driving her closer and closer to permanent residency in the local loony bin. At first she'd assumed it was a form of early life crisis. Her thirtieth birthday was less than three days away. Not exactly life altering, but the date also marked the anniversary of her parents' death. More than ever, she felt the fragility of life and how easily it could all be ripped away. It also drove home one indisputable truth—she was more alone than ever.
Max pivoted in her direction, and her heart gave an odd squeeze. He represented hope, the promise of a future that didn't have to be solitary. But how could she trust her thoughts when they weren't her own? How could she drag Max into this craziness when she didn't even want to be there? The best, kindest thing she could do at this point would be to walk away from him and never look back.
Too bad her feet seemed to be cemented in place. Forcing a pained smile, she scooted over on the bench, making room for Max. He sat next to her and handed over her lemonade before fishing her sandwich from the bag. Accepting the package from him, she crumpled back one side of the waxed paper and sank her teeth into the rye and pastrami, a happy groan leaking free. As he'd done last night, Max watched her with unabashed appreciation. She licked the corner of her lip, catching the tangy essence from the dressing. His eyes darkened.
She finished chewing and swallowed. "Aren't you hungry?"
His focus never veered from her mouth. "Yes. For you."
Oh boy. "Max, I told you. We can't—"
"I want to peel your clothes off and lay you out for my own personal all-you-can-eat buffet."
She gulped and attempted to combat her raging arousal with sarcasm. "That's a little scary coming from a shark."
"I can be very good with my teeth when given the proper inspiration."
"Would you please eat your sandwich and stop staring at me like I'm dessert?" Grumbling, she squeezed her legs together and took a sip from her lemonade. She relaxed a fraction when she detected the crinkling of waxed paper as Max unwrapped his Philly cheese steak.
They ate in companionable silence for several minutes, until her belly was full and she couldn't imagine indulging in another bite. But despite having the edge taken off her hunger in one respect, the lusty cravings that kept her on the brink of jumping out of her skin only worsened the longer she was around Max. She harbored no doubts that if she didn't get some much-needed space between them soon, she would gladly be flat on her back and offering herself to Max for his amorous snacking pleasures.
Crushing the remnants of her meal into a compact ball, she rushed to the nearby trash receptacle and pitched everything inside. Max followed suit and slid his arm around her waist again, snuggling her close until she had no choice but to walk along weakly, drunk and woozy on his delicious pheromones.
He escorted her into the Taurus, even going so far as to lean across her and buckle her seat belt. She gave him a peeved scowl, which he instantly sent packing when he angled his head and kissed her. It was barely a brushing of lips, but it still short-circuited the few functioning brain cells she had left. He straightened, his smile more than relaying the fact that he knew precisely how much he was affecting her—and that he was likely to use the knowledge to his full advantage.
Humming a vaguely familiar tune, Max strode to the passenger side and climbed in. She lasered him with a hot glare. "I am not going to fall into your bed."
Okay? That was all he had to say? And why did he have to sound so damn calm and reasonable, as if he was only placating her? "I mean it, Max. Last night was—"
She gnawed the inside of her cheek to keep from growling. "I was going to say a one-time deal."
"I like my description better."
"You're not listening to me."
"Sorry, sweetheart. You were saying?" The bastard didn't sound the least bit contrite.
Despite knowing she would most likely regret looking at him, she did anyway. Oh yeah. Definitely a big mistake. Why did he have to be so yummy? "Are you always this aggravating and single-minded?"
His smoky look provoked decadent shivers across her skin. "I'm not afraid to go after what I want, Willa. If that makes me single-minded, so be it. But you better believe I'm going to do whatever it takes to convince you to let me rock your Kasbah into the next week. Hell, the next lifetime."
Her breath abandoned her like air from a popped balloon. "It's very sneaky bringing up Kasbahs at a time like this."
"I told you. Whatever it takes."
Goddess, give me strength.
She slammed the gears into reverse and backed out of the parking space. The ride was every bit as excruciating as she'd suspected it would be, made all the worse when the devious radio station decided to start playing Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On". She recognized it as the song Max had been humming earlier.
I am so screwed. She grimaced. Ugh, bad word choice.
Finally they arrived outside the Alliance headquarters, and she pulled into the small lot, stopping beside Max's Jeep. She shifted into park but left the engine idling in case a quick getaway was required. Max released his belt and lowered the volume on the radio before turning toward her. She figured her face must have displayed her sizable panic as he leaned close, invading her personal space. His nearness forced her to tip her head sideways, making her glasses slip. He removed them and set them on the front dash. A purposeful gleam lit his eyes as his focus dipped to her mouth. She swallowed. "Max—"
His hand cupped the nape of her neck, lightly stroking. "There's no way you didn't think I was going to kiss you."
"B-but you already did."
"That was nothing. This time it's serious." And with that preemptive warning, he claimed her mouth, his tongue easily coaxing past the barrier of her lips and meeting hers in a hot glide. There was no hesitation or fumbling in his kiss. Only the skilled determination of a male intent on making her melt into a quivering puddle of desperation. He sucked on her bottom lip, his teeth scraping gently.
Panting, she sank her nails into the softness of Max's T-shirt, fascinated by the marked contrast to the hard muscles hidden beneath. "I—I meant it when I said I'm not falling into your bed."
"Then take me home to yours." His bristly jaw scuffed softly along her chin as he dipped his head and sucked the side of her neck. Sharp, pleasurable tingles burst beneath her skin, pebbling her nipples and throbbing within her clit. She squirmed and trembled, her body pulling tight. It was no mystery to her that the sensitive area Max had zeroed in on happened to be one of the most erogenous zones of her body, but how the hell did he know it?
"I…I—" She almost passed out from the devastating pleasure of Max's mouth when his suction intensified. Her aching clit felt like it was going to explode. "Oh goddess."
His thumb flicked over her distended nipple, using the friction of her blouse and bra to drive her higher. He lifted his head. "I want to make you come. Over and over. With my tongue, fingers, my cock. Until you lose count of the number of orgasms you've had. Say you want that too."
"Max…" Her plea turned into an embarrassing mewl as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger. She grabbed onto him, trying to drag him closer and increase the teasingly light pressure on her breast, but the bastard refused to budge.
"If you don't tell me now, Willa, so help me I'll stop. It's all of you or nothing."
She stared into his eyes, looking for evidence that he was bluffing. Passion flushed his face, but his rugged features were set with unmistakable determination.
Oh hell.
Labels: Maximum Witch


A Medical Doctor and Global Public Health Specialist with over 18 years experience in managing International and National Health Programs. Career experience in WHO, BMGF, GIZ, UNFPA, USAID, CDC, Howard University Projects, South Africa Department of Health, JSI, Janssen & Janssen Pharmaceutical and MSH. currently looking for new opportunities in the USA. Possess legal status to work in USA.
I am a Global Public Health Expert, with Experience in South Africa, Nigeria, Kenya, Ethiopia, Mozambique, Malawi and Namibia.
Implemented consultancy services in South Africa National Department of Health, South Africa National AIDS Council-Global Fund , BMGF, NEPAD, Italian Cooperation and GIZ, USAID Projects in MSH and John Snow, Southern Africa Development Community (SADC), Janssen and Janssen Pharmaceutical and Wits University Consortium.
I have led Public Health Teams into achieving outstanding performances and high impact interventions. Experience in Public Health Emergencies including the response against the Ebola epidemic.
4. BMGF Project: Provided project management and technical Support to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (BMGF) TB Programme in South Africa: Grant managed the National TB Programme Quality Improvement Project and the TB Think Tank award.


Role of radiotherapy in the management of carcinoma stomach is well established in clinical studies. For achieving adequate locoregional control, external radiotherapy with concurrent chemotherapy is considered a standard of care in locally-advanced carcinoma of the stomach. Difficulty in delivery of external radiotherapy was considered challenging due to the toxicity of neighboring structures. Because of this reason many radiotherapy centres do not offer external radiotherapy to their patients. Different radiotherapy delivery techniques have been described in the literature, including two-dimensional (2D), three-dimensional (3D), and conformal radiotherapy techniques such as intensity modulated radiotherapy (IMRT). IMRT plans significantly reduced the radiation dose distribution to normal organs. A good radiotherapy dose distribution to the stomach bed and regional nodes can be achieved with IMRT planning.
Even though IMRT was found to be a good technique, numerous limitations have been identified. The investigators at the Princess Margaret Hospital stated that IMRT was associated with reduced dose homogeneity, which can produce high dose spots in the small bowel. They cautioned that there is a need for detailed information regarding organ motion in the upper abdomen and that implementation of breath hold or gating techniques may be necessary prior to the adoption of IMRT in routine clinical practice.
Breathing movements during treatments can alter the dose distribution to the target area and the dose limiting structures. Different techniques such as 2D treatments (2DRT), 3D conformal radiotherapy (3DCRT), image-guided treatments (IGRT), and respiratory gating techniques have been described in the literature. Each technique has its own advantages and disadvantages. Most of them are time consuming and need maximum cooperation from the patient. Reproducibility during every day treatment is another challenge.
Investigators at the Princess Margaret Hospital obtained abdominal computed tomography (CT) scans in the states of free breathing, inhaling, and exhaling for 17 patients undergoing postoperative radiotherapy for gastric cancer and organ motion was found to be significant, with mean 17.5 mm craniocaudal displacement, 5.9 mm anteroposterior displacement, and 2.7 mm right-to-left displacement.
Considering these factors we tried a simple and easily reproducible technique. That is, using an abdominal compression device to reduce the internal target motion and deliver IMRT for stomach cancer. Reduction in the internal target motion will definitely reduce the dose to normal organs as well as the total treatment volume. These benefits will ultimately reflect in better dose delivery to the target volume. An abdominal compression device was made with the help of available literature. The compression device was a simple one, and can be very conveniently used in all patients without much difficulty and the reproducibility was also good. Because the device was not routinely used and the data available from literature for using the device for treating stomach cancer patients were limited, we planned a pilot study.
Carcinoma stomach patients registered in the radiation oncology outpatient department of our institution who satisfied the inclusion criteria were included in the study.
Inclusion criteria included (1) Carcinoma stomach postop (stage IIA to Stage IIIC AJCC Staging manual 2010); (2) Eastern cooperative group (ECOG) staging performance score: 0 and 1; (3) Surgical clips placed in the tumor bed; (4) Normal liver and renal function.
Exclusion criteria included (1) ECOG performance score of 2 or above; (2) Obstructive pulmonary disease patient with compromised pulmonary function; (3) Ischemic heart disease patients.
Abdominal compression device consisted of a triangular Styrofoam's plate and an inflatable air bladder that was positioned over patients [Figure 1].
On the simulation day, compression device was placed over patient's abdomen and a pneumatic pressure was set according to patients' comfort [Figure 2]. Patients had two CT-scanning sessions, with and without abdominal compression. Three millimeter slice thickness scans were acquired and transferred to the treatment planning system (TPS) (Eclipse version 11.0). In TPS, the target volumes and organs at risk (OAR) were delineated on the CT images without compression.
All patients were offered radiotherapy with the IMRT technique at a total prescribed dose of 45–50.4 Gy in 25–28 fraction (1.8-Gy per fraction) along with daily capecitabine (825 mg/m2).
On the treatment day, fluoroscopy was acquired with onboard imager (OBI) to visualize the motion of the surgical clips with and without compression. The fluoroscopic images obtained were exported to tracker software [Figure 3], analyzing the movements of surgical clips for craniocaudal and mediolateral direction. Observed values of with and without abdominal compression were compared.
The pilot study done on 5 patients who received adjuvant conformal radiotherapy for carcinoma stomach using abdominal compression device showed the following results.
All patients included in the study received conformal radiotherapy as an adjuvant treatment. Treatment details are mentioned in the [Table 1]. Surgical clips were present in all the patients. The movement of surgical clips was recorded for each patient [Table 2].
Mean mediolateral (delta X) without compression was 5.92 mm and with compression was 4.15 mm, meancranio caudal (delta Y) without compression was 11.3 mm and with compression was 7.2 mm [Graph 1] and [Graph 2]. The range of reduction was 29.85% in the ML and 36.86% in the CC direction. The average residual breathing excursion was 1.766 mm (SD = 1.33 mm) in the ML and 4.02 mm (SD = 2.18 mm) in the CC direction.
Abdominal compression device usage helps to reduce the internal organ movements during the treatment of carcinoma stomach using conformal radiotherapy. In our pilot study, craniocaudal movements reduced from 11.3 mm to 7.2 mm and mediolateral movements reduced from 5.9 mm to 4.1 mm. Similar studies using abdominal compression devices have been reported in the literature for treating other types of malignancies. Because the treatment sites are different, direct comparison with other studies may not be accurate.
Lovelock et al. reported a similar device usage for the treatment of liver lesions using stereotactic body radiotherapy. They found that the compression device could reduce the target motion by a factor of 2.6 in the craniocaudal direction. Applying a constant pressure on the abdomen, Lax et al. reported that motion of liver malignancies ranging from 15 to 25 mm was reduced to 5 to 10 mm. Another study done by Wunderink et al. showed a median motion reduction in 12 liver patients, 62% in the craniocaudal, and 38% in the anteroposterior direction with respect to the median free-breathing excursions.
Breathing movements are a major concern in the treatment of lung lesions. Reductions in respiratory motion by the use of similar devices have been described in literature. Negoro et al. found that the pressure plate usage of a similar design reduced the movements from 8–20 mm to 2–11 mm. Another similar study by Hof et al. reported in a group of 20 lung cancer patients abdominal compression reduced the movements with the mean and standard deviation of 5.1 ± 2.4 mm.
In practice abdominal compression device reduced the craniocaudal movements and lateral movements to a significant level. Conformal radiotherapy treatment of stomach cancer in adjuvant settings with compression devices shows a definite advantage in terms of movement reduction and better dose distribution. The simplicity of this system makes it a more feasible option to use on a daily basis at any oncology centre. Movement reduction for each patient has to be calculated separately, and these variations need to be incorporated in the treatment planning. An overall reduction in the treatment volume will account for better conformity in delivering IMRT to stomach cancer patients.
The advantages of abdominal compression devices in the treatment of stomach cancer in postoperative settings were clearly understood from this study. A routine clinical use of this device will help to identify further aspects of this device usage, and needs to have a more systematic approach and clinical follow-up. In short, conformal radiotherapy treatment in stomach cancer can be modified in terms of accuracy and dose distribution with the help of abdominal compression devices.
John S. Macdonald, Stephen R. Smalley, Jacqueline Benedetti, Scott A. Hundahl, et al. Chemoradiotherapy after Surgery Compared with Surgery Alone for Adenocarcinoma of the Stomach or Gastroesophageal Junction. N Engl J Med 2001;345:725-30.
Smalley SR, Gunderson L, Tepper J, Martenson JA Jr, Minsky B, Willett C, et al. Gastric surgical adjuvant radiotherapy consensus report: Rationale and treatment implementation. Int J Radiat Oncol Biol Phys 2002;52:283-93.
Wieland P, Dobler B, Mai S, Hermann B, Tiefenbacher U, Steil V, et al. IMRT for postoperative treatment of gastric cancer: Covering large target volumes in the upper abdomen: a comparison of a step-and-shoot and an arc therapy approach. Int J Radiat Oncol Biol Phys 2004;59:1236-44.
Milano MT, Garofalo MC, Chmura SJ, Farrey K, Rash C, Heimann R, et al. Intensity-modulated radiation therapy in the treatment of gastric cancer: Early clinical outcome and dosimetric comparison with conventional techniques. Br J Radiol 2006;79:497-503.
Ringash J, Perkins G, Brierley J, Lockwood G, Islam M, Catton P, et al. IMRT for adjuvant radiation in gastric cancer: A preferred plan? Int J Radiat Oncol Biol Phys 2005;63:732-8.
Susan A. McCloskey, Gary Y. Yang Benefits and Challenges of Radiation Therapy in Gastric Cancer: Techniques for Improving Outcomes. Gastrointest Cancer Res 2009;3:15-9.
Brandner ED, Wu A, Chen H, Heron D, Kalnicki S, Komanduri K, et al. Abdominal organ motion measured using 4D CT. Int J Radiat Oncol Biol Phys 2006;65:554-60.
Lovelock DM, Zatcky J, Goodman K, Yamada Y. The Effectiveness of a Pneumatic Compression Belt in Reducing Respiratory Motion of Abdominal Tumors in Patients Undergoing Stereotactic Body Radiotherapy. Technol Cancer Res Treat 2014;13:259-67.
Lax I, Blomgren H, Naslund I, Svanstrom R. Stereotactic radiotherapy of malignancies in the abdomen. Methodological aspects. Acta Oncol 1994;33:677-83.
Wunderink W, Méndez Romero A, de Kruijf W, de Boer H, Levendag P, Heijmen B. Reduction of respiratory liver tumor motion by abdominal compression in stereotactic body frame, analysed by tracking fiducial markers implanted in liver. Int J Radiat Oncol Biol Phys 2008;71:907-15.
Negoro Y, Nagata Y, Aoki T, Mizowaki T, Araki N, Takayama K, et al. The effectiveness of an immobilization device in conformal radiotherapy for lung tumor: Reduction of respiratory tumor movement and evaluation of the daily setup accuracy. Int J Radiat Oncol Biol Phys 2001;50:889-98.
Hof H, Herfarth KK, Munter M, Essig M, Wannenmacher M, Debus J. The use of the multislice CT for the determination of respiratory lung tumor movement in stereotactic single-dose irradiation. Strahlenther Onkol 2003;179:542-7.


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Viewing Guide: How to watch Villanova Football vs. Elon
Good news, you can stream the first ever meeting between the schools!
By Chris Lane@chrisjjlane Oct 1, 2016, 5:00am EDT
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Matthew O'Haren-USA TODAY Sports
Villanova heads South to face the Elon Phoenix on Saturday afternoon in what will be the first meeting between the CAA foe, ever. Elon are still in the early days of their CAA membership, and this is the first season since they joined that they'll face 'Nova.
Villanova is 3-1 after a dominant defensive showing at Lafayette last weekend, and will look to build on their 1-0 conference record.
The Phoenix enter the game at 2-2, and didn't look like they were going to be much of a threat in the first few weeks. That all changed last weekend when they went on the road and crushed #8 William & Mary 27-10.
Game Time, TV Schedule: 3:30pm ET. The game will not be televised.
Live Video Stream: It looks like Phoenix All-Access will stream the game, which will be simulcast on CAA.tv
Radio: All Villanova Football games air live on radio in the Philadelphia market on 610 Sports WTEL-AM. You can also use a radio app such as Tune.in.
Odds: SportBet has the line at Villanova -14, and the Over/Under at 34.5.
GAMEDAY EVENTS & GAMEWATCHES
The Villanova Club of Charlotte is hosting at tailgate that begins at 12:30. Please register in advance so they know you are coming! Expect several members of the Villanova Club of Atlanta to be there too!
BEVERAGE OF CHOICE
Jameson, rocks
It finally got below 70 degrees late this week down South, and that means it's officially Fall and it's time to break out the whiskey. I'm actually a bit nervous for this game. We've never played Elon, it's on the road, and they're coming off a huge win. What once looked like a sure-fire victory is now not. Stress drinking!
2023 and 2024 Recruiting Updates A lot of behind the scenes work looks to be shaping up for a busy "off-season" for Kyle Neptune and staff

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


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Novant Facilities Earn Leapfrog Safety Grades
By Staff Reports, posted Dec 3, 2021
The Leapfrog Group recently gave Novant Health Brunswick Medical Center and New Hanover Regional Medical Center, now a part of Novant, A letter grades in its fall hospital safety grades.
The Leapfrog Group is a national nonprofit that evaluates the safety and patient experience provided by hospitals across the country. The grades – from A to F – are assigned to U.S. hospitals "based on their ability to prevent errors, injuries, accidents and infections, and improve patient satisfaction," according to a news release.
Novant said it had received As at its 11 hospitals.
"This makes Novant Health the largest healthcare system in North Carolina to ever achieve the highest mark for safety and quality across all of its hospitals," the Winston-Salem- based system said.
"Our team of physicians, nurses, advanced practice clinicians, pharmacists and clinical team members utilize data, analytics and artificial intelligence to predict and prevent errors and infections before they happen, while also developing best practices to improve patient safety, quality and satisfaction," Eric Eskioglu, Novant's executive vice president and chief medical and scientific officer, said in the release.
We Did Not Reach All Our Goals – Thank Goodness!
JC Lyle - Wilmington Area Rebuilding Ministry
Combating COVID, Helping Our Community Take Center Stage In 2021
Chris Coudriet - New Hanover County Government
Top 10 Most-read Stories Of 2021
Check out the top 10 most-read Greater Wilmington Business Journal by online readers in 2021....


When it comes to a show with a mythology as packed as Stranger Things, it's completely natural for fans to form lots of theories about what's going on and might be coming up. Well, it turns out that those behind the show don't pay too much attention to those ideas, and there's a pretty good reason for that. Here's what executive producer Shawn Levy had to say about how they approach fan theories.
I think in general, we are wary of reading too much of our own press. And going down the rabbit holes of fan theories and desires. I think that the only other superstition is that we got here because of a reliance on our own instincts and above all a reliance on the Duffers' instincts. And my whole job, as both director and certainly as their executive producer, is to create a culture for our show that allows them to listen to themselves, trust each other, and execute. So my only other superstition is, don't let the outside voices ever get too loud in our ears, because it might drown out the inner voices that got us to this point.
See? The folks who have worked hard to bring us two season of Stranger Things (with a third coming next summer) know what they're doing. Shawn Levy makes a great point in his talk with The Playlist when he reveals the team strategy for handling fan expectations and theories regarding the creepy goings on in the fictional town of Hawkins, Indiana. Basically, Levy and Matt and Ross Duffer feel they need to remain confident in the instincts that have led them to create and execute the show so far, and believe that letting fan ideas about what should or could happen take root in their minds could lead to them derailing the show that people clearly enjoy as they have it planned.
Obviously, no matter what your thoughts on how a wide variety of situations have turned out for the denizens of Stranger Things, the Duffer Brothers, Shawn Levy and their team of writers have their own ideas for how things need to go on the supernatural series, and we should all be glad of that. Sure, you may have wanted Barb to live, or Bob to be a traitor or for Dart to somehow survive and not still be a dangerous, cat-eating interdimensional being who could never be fully trusted, but that simply wasn't in the plan. And, really, do you want a show of any type where the only things that happen are those that you predict will happen? What fun would it be to, instead of occasionally getting plot twists right, you got all of them right? Who truly enjoys a show with absolutely no surprises?
Shawn Levy and the Duffers clearly can't stop the fans from pushing certain theories, and they likely wouldn't want to, anyway. If people who watch the Netflix hit are invested enough to spend their free time coming up with ideas about why everything is going down like it is, that's means they'll keep watching. But, those who enjoy Stranger Things should be aware that while they may hit on the truth of a situation every now and then, the team behind the show isn't mining their ideas for what to do next, and, that's a very good thing.
Stranger Things Season 3 will hit Netflix during the summer of 2019, so stay tuned to CinemaBlend for details on that release date. For what to watch in the meantime, check out our fall premiere guide.


text:
Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets
Charles L. Schleien, Balthasar Eberle, D. Hal Shaffner, Raymond C. Koehler, Richard J. Traystman
Background and PurposeCardiac arrest and resuscitation in immature piglets result in a delayed increase in blood-brain barrier permeability. We tested the hypothesis that pretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic permeability. Methods Permeability was assessed by measuring the plasma-to-brain transfer coefficient of the small amino acid, a-ami-noisobutyric acid, in 2- to 3-week-old anesthetized piglets. Three groups were studied: (1) a nonischemic time control group (n = 5), (2) an ischemia group (n=8) pretreated with 5 mL of polyethylene glycol vehicle, and (3) an ischemia group (n = 8) pretreated with polyethylene glycol conjugated to superoxide dismutase (10 000 U/kg) and to catalase (20 000 U/kg). The ischemia protocol consisted of 8 minutes of ventricular fibrillation, 6 minutes of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, defibrillation, and 4 hours of spontaneous circulation. ResultsThe mean±SEM of the transfer coefficient of α-aminoisobutyric acid in cerebrum was (in μL/g per minute): 1.54 ± 0.37 in the nonischemic group, 2.04 ± 0.26 in the ischemia group treated with vehicle, and 1.29 ± 0.25 in the ischemia group treated with oxygen radical scavengers. Postischemic values with scavenger treatment were significantly lower than those with vehicle treatment in cerebrum, cerebellum, medulla, and cervical spinal cord. ConclusionsPretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic blood-brain barrier permeability by a small amino acid. These data are consistent with oxygen radical-mediated dysfunction of cerebral endothelium in a pediatric model of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
https://doi.org/10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830
10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830
Dive into the research topics of 'Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets'. Together they form a unique fingerprint.
Heart Arrest Medicine & Life Sciences 100%
Blood-Brain Barrier Medicine & Life Sciences 97%
Catalase Medicine & Life Sciences 96%
Permeability Medicine & Life Sciences 86%
Ischemia Medicine & Life Sciences 75%
Reactive Oxygen Species Medicine & Life Sciences 64%
Polyethylene Glycols Medicine & Life Sciences 44%
Schleien, C. L., Eberle, B., Shaffner, D. H., Koehler, R. C., & Traystman, R. J. (1994). Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets. Stroke, 25(9), 1830-1834. https://doi.org/10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830
Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets. / Schleien, Charles L.; Eberle, Balthasar; Shaffner, D. Hal; Koehler, Raymond C.; Traystman, Richard J.
In: Stroke, Vol. 25, No. 9, 09.1994, p. 1830-1834.
Schleien, CL, Eberle, B, Shaffner, DH, Koehler, RC & Traystman, RJ 1994, 'Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets', Stroke, vol. 25, no. 9, pp. 1830-1834. https://doi.org/10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830
Schleien CL, Eberle B, Shaffner DH, Koehler RC, Traystman RJ. Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets. Stroke. 1994 Sep;25(9):1830-1834. https://doi.org/10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830
Schleien, Charles L. ; Eberle, Balthasar ; Shaffner, D. Hal ; Koehler, Raymond C. ; Traystman, Richard J. / Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets. In: Stroke. 1994 ; Vol. 25, No. 9. pp. 1830-1834.
@article{bda7e1f41792483dbbee16793bd7263f,
title = "Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets",
abstract = "Background and PurposeCardiac arrest and resuscitation in immature piglets result in a delayed increase in blood-brain barrier permeability. We tested the hypothesis that pretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic permeability. Methods Permeability was assessed by measuring the plasma-to-brain transfer coefficient of the small amino acid, a-ami-noisobutyric acid, in 2- to 3-week-old anesthetized piglets. Three groups were studied: (1) a nonischemic time control group (n = 5), (2) an ischemia group (n=8) pretreated with 5 mL of polyethylene glycol vehicle, and (3) an ischemia group (n = 8) pretreated with polyethylene glycol conjugated to superoxide dismutase (10 000 U/kg) and to catalase (20 000 U/kg). The ischemia protocol consisted of 8 minutes of ventricular fibrillation, 6 minutes of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, defibrillation, and 4 hours of spontaneous circulation. ResultsThe mean±SEM of the transfer coefficient of α-aminoisobutyric acid in cerebrum was (in μL/g per minute): 1.54 ± 0.37 in the nonischemic group, 2.04 ± 0.26 in the ischemia group treated with vehicle, and 1.29 ± 0.25 in the ischemia group treated with oxygen radical scavengers. Postischemic values with scavenger treatment were significantly lower than those with vehicle treatment in cerebrum, cerebellum, medulla, and cervical spinal cord. ConclusionsPretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic blood-brain barrier permeability by a small amino acid. These data are consistent with oxygen radical-mediated dysfunction of cerebral endothelium in a pediatric model of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.",
keywords = "Blood-brain barrier, Cardiopulmonary resuscitation, Free radicals, Pigs, Superoxide dismutase",
author = "Schleien, {Charles L.} and Balthasar Eberle and Shaffner, {D. Hal} and Koehler, {Raymond C.} and Traystman, {Richard J.}",
doi = "10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830",
journal = "Stroke",
T1 - Reduced blood-brain barrier permeability after cardiac arrest by conjugated superoxide dismutase and catalase in piglets
AU - Schleien, Charles L.
AU - Eberle, Balthasar
AU - Shaffner, D. Hal
AU - Koehler, Raymond C.
AU - Traystman, Richard J.
N2 - Background and PurposeCardiac arrest and resuscitation in immature piglets result in a delayed increase in blood-brain barrier permeability. We tested the hypothesis that pretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic permeability. Methods Permeability was assessed by measuring the plasma-to-brain transfer coefficient of the small amino acid, a-ami-noisobutyric acid, in 2- to 3-week-old anesthetized piglets. Three groups were studied: (1) a nonischemic time control group (n = 5), (2) an ischemia group (n=8) pretreated with 5 mL of polyethylene glycol vehicle, and (3) an ischemia group (n = 8) pretreated with polyethylene glycol conjugated to superoxide dismutase (10 000 U/kg) and to catalase (20 000 U/kg). The ischemia protocol consisted of 8 minutes of ventricular fibrillation, 6 minutes of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, defibrillation, and 4 hours of spontaneous circulation. ResultsThe mean±SEM of the transfer coefficient of α-aminoisobutyric acid in cerebrum was (in μL/g per minute): 1.54 ± 0.37 in the nonischemic group, 2.04 ± 0.26 in the ischemia group treated with vehicle, and 1.29 ± 0.25 in the ischemia group treated with oxygen radical scavengers. Postischemic values with scavenger treatment were significantly lower than those with vehicle treatment in cerebrum, cerebellum, medulla, and cervical spinal cord. ConclusionsPretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic blood-brain barrier permeability by a small amino acid. These data are consistent with oxygen radical-mediated dysfunction of cerebral endothelium in a pediatric model of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
AB - Background and PurposeCardiac arrest and resuscitation in immature piglets result in a delayed increase in blood-brain barrier permeability. We tested the hypothesis that pretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic permeability. Methods Permeability was assessed by measuring the plasma-to-brain transfer coefficient of the small amino acid, a-ami-noisobutyric acid, in 2- to 3-week-old anesthetized piglets. Three groups were studied: (1) a nonischemic time control group (n = 5), (2) an ischemia group (n=8) pretreated with 5 mL of polyethylene glycol vehicle, and (3) an ischemia group (n = 8) pretreated with polyethylene glycol conjugated to superoxide dismutase (10 000 U/kg) and to catalase (20 000 U/kg). The ischemia protocol consisted of 8 minutes of ventricular fibrillation, 6 minutes of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, defibrillation, and 4 hours of spontaneous circulation. ResultsThe mean±SEM of the transfer coefficient of α-aminoisobutyric acid in cerebrum was (in μL/g per minute): 1.54 ± 0.37 in the nonischemic group, 2.04 ± 0.26 in the ischemia group treated with vehicle, and 1.29 ± 0.25 in the ischemia group treated with oxygen radical scavengers. Postischemic values with scavenger treatment were significantly lower than those with vehicle treatment in cerebrum, cerebellum, medulla, and cervical spinal cord. ConclusionsPretreatment with oxygen radical scavengers reduces postischemic blood-brain barrier permeability by a small amino acid. These data are consistent with oxygen radical-mediated dysfunction of cerebral endothelium in a pediatric model of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
KW - Blood-brain barrier
KW - Cardiopulmonary resuscitation
KW - Pigs
KW - Superoxide dismutase
U2 - 10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830
DO - 10.1161/01.STR.25.9.1830
JO - Stroke
JF - Stroke


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Assisting Bruce in the elaborate and repetitive process of mold making are mold-maker Tony Contreras and makeup artist Shari Smith. Their efficient, practiced help keeps the lesson from ever getting bogged down in mundane details and allows every moment of Bruce's process to inform and expand the viewer's understanding of sculpture breakdown and mold-making. No aspiring creature effects makeup artist or monster-maker can hope for proficiency without mastering these lessons. Get started now, you'll be glad you did.


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Found these on a Christchurch City Council Libraries website of all places . . .
The first is from late 82 or early 83, advertising a gig at the infamous Empire Tavern in Dunedin. This poster was scrapped together from old posters and other art by Stu and whacked out in a night at the notorious Ink Inc. studio at 2/222 High St, Christchurch. Above Ground was the band Stu was in with Bill Direen, Carol Woodward and Maryrose Wilkinson (now M. Crook in The Renderers), while the Gorillas were 16-year-old Stevie's high-school group whose other half was comix-maestro-to-be Pete Rees. They travelled down from Christchurch for the gig. The Cartilage Family was Peter Gutteridge, Shayne Carter & Christine Voice's then-band, locals we'd befriended over the years.
Here's a mixed bag of cassette-only goodies . . .
–undated, probably from Christchurch practises late 1984. Presence of saxophone and graphic equalizer are big time-clues, plus references to beer & god, plus the other side of the tape features the song "the panther of the suburbs" whose lyrics Steve channeled in trance-state following A SCAR IS BORN sessions, mid-84.
—live at the Star & Garter in Christchurch, 4 November 1983. This is around the time of the MICK'S DANCEFLOOR (MIX) sessions, and Mick himself, M. S. Agro, plays bass with us for the first of a whole bunch of great gigs.
—Axmin biggish band again at Whangarei Busker's Convention, December 1985.
–live at Cashel St practice rooms, early-mid 1986, with vocal overdubs by Steve & his 4-track.
This picture was taken in Whangarei after the Axmin returned from a day trip to Auckland where they'd scooped 1st prize in the inaugural Auckland Busking Competition (judges: Topp Twins).
At this time the band had expanded from 3 to sometimes over 10 personnel, boasting a brass section and women members (hence the temporary rename to Axmin).
This is from a gig with no location or date. The tape just says AXEMEN "THE 42 STEPS" in Steve's writing. He overdubbed some vocals on it so it must be after he got his 4-track cassette recorder, early 1986. Awesome drums!


There are many different milestones that a pilot passes during the course of a career. Many of these milestones happen during initial flight training. There is the first flight, there is the first solo, the first cross-country flight, achieving their private pilots license, different ratings, advancing their licenses, etc. Once a new pilot moves past these initial milestones, there are fewer and fewer of them that come along. After a pilot has moved into their career and is flying regularly, most of the milestones that pass have to do with flying a new aircraft type or with the accumulation of flight hours.
I remember back when I began flying. I would ask my instructors or other experienced pilots that all important question, "How many hours do you have?" Interestingly enough, when I became a flight instructor and was asked that question, my "go-to" response was simply, "Enough."
For most pilots, the milestones become the passing of another 1000 hours of flight. I remember my first thousand hours. I was flying the small two seater Citabria aircraft "C-FXRN" out of Three Hills, Alberta. I had my co-worker and good friend Phil Henderson along with me for the flight. It was a fine, sunny summer day with the green and yellow fields of southern Alberta rolling beneath us as I flew. The first thousand hours. Whoa! Good times.
The setting for the second thousand hour milestone was a little bit different. I have been trying to take each member of my family with me on an operational flight here in Uganda since we arrived. It helps a lot for them to be able to see first hand what I do every day, and to see the impact and difference that it makes for the passengers that I fly. My son was the last of my family to be able to come along on a flight with me, and finally there came a flight that had both enough space left on it for him to come along and also did not cross international borders, which would have required a visa for him. It was planned to be a fairly short flight up to Moroto in northern Uganda, and then straight back home. Usually our flights to the Karamoja region of Uganda have multiple stops, but on this particular day I was only needed to fly to Moroto and back. Drew was excited, and for a change when I popped my head into his room shortly before 6:00am, he vaulted out of bed faster than I have seen him do in a long time. I walked back to the kitchen and checked my phone to see if there were any missed calls or messages during the night. Surprisingly, there was a text message waiting for me. I looked through it quickly and saw that the schedule was changing for my flight that day. At around 4:00am our operations manager had been contacted by World Vision people based in Kotido, a village only about a 15 minute flight from Moroto. There was a man there who was in medical distress and was needing transport to Kampala for further diagnosis and more advanced medical facilities, could we fly him?
Because of the lack of other passengers on the flight back to Kampala (there were only two people scheduled to return with me) there was plenty of room and it was quite easy to arrange to pick this man up. We took off almost exactly at 8:00am. I could sense Drew's excitement beside me as the wheels lifted off of our red murram runway and I banked my plane to the right to intercept my track northeastwards towards Moroto. There was a nice high layer of clouds at around 10,000 feet, which kept it nice and cool in the cockpit as well as very smooth for the flight to Moroto. About 30 miles out of Moroto I was forced to descend so that I was beneath a low layer of cloud, and for the remainder of the flight we cruised at only about 800 feet off the deck. Thankfully, it was also smooth down there and the passengers filling the seats behind be were not subjected to the rough, raggedy ride that usually accompanies flight at such a low level (which can often result in the useage of airsick bags). As my wheels thumped down on the runway in Moroto, Drew turned to me and smiled, "My first landing in Uganda!" I smiled back and taxied up to our parking area.
Because I didn't have to take on any fuel in Moroto and my two passengers were there waiting for us, the turn-around in Moroto was fairly quick. I briefed my two passengers on the situation waiting for us in Kotido, and asked them if they were comfortable with it. If not, we did have another MAF plane that would be going through Kotido in a few hours, and if they were not comfortable riding along with the patient it would be possible for them to catch a ride back to Kampala with that plane. They both indicated that there was no problem for them to stay on my plane, so that made things a little easier for the pilots of the other plane.
Taking off of Moroto, the low cloud layer forced me to cover the ground between Moroto and Kotido between 500 and 700 feet above ground level. There was no visability or precipitation making things difficult for me, so it was actually a nice little leg to fly, talking with Drew about different things that we saw along the way. We landed in Kotido about one minute behind the other MAF plane that was in that area that morning. They were dropping off passengers in Kotido, then heading further northwards to check out another of our airstrips that has been closed for several months as repairs have been going on there. They were hoping to be able to do an airstrip inspection, then land and walk the strip to check it out from ground level, and then return to Kotido to pick up some passengers for their flight home.
Because they did not have any passenger to take out of Kotido on the way north, they were not in a big hurry were able to stay around to help me out with the medevac. We knew that the patient was a "stretcher case", needing to be on the stretcher for his flight. As we began to prepare the plane to accommodate this, the truck carrying the patient arrived at the airstrip. I walked over to check on the condition of the patient, and I was pleasantly surprised to see him stepping out of the truck and walking towards us. I inquired of the attendant if indeed a stretcher was required, and they told me that yes, it would be good for him to be able to lay down for the flight. Because the patient was able to walk, loading him into the plane was going to be easier than we had anticipated as he could walk into the plane and lie down, eliminating the need for us to strap him onto the stretcher and then lift him into the plane. As I turned away from them and hopped into the plane to arrange things inside the plane, I heard a commotion behind me and turned back around. My patient had just passed out and collapsed to the ground. Only his attendants holding him up saved him from a nasty fall. Greg, one of the other MAF pilots there (there were two pilots in the other plane) quickly grabbed our stretcher and laid it out on the ground so that they could lay the man down on it. They did so and we continued to get ready with a little bit more urgency in our actions. Just as we were close to being ready to lift the man into the plane, he sat up a little bit, turned his head, and vomited a large amount of blood all over the ground beside the stretcher.
I had been briefed that this had been happening to the patient, but for Drew there were a lot of "firsts" happening all at once, and he was struggling a little bit to process everything that was going on. I had him in the plane so that he wouldn't be in the way, and he was very helpful as he passed us small things that we needed at different times. At one time he turned to me and, with concern in his voice, asked me, "Daddy, have you done this before?" When I answered that yes, I had done this before and that this is one of the ways that we help out the people here, I could see him visibly relax quite a bit. Several minutes later we had loaded the patient and his two attendants in the plane, and my two passengers were also loaded and ready to go. The other two pilots climbed into their plane and headed north, and I breathed a prayer of thanks that they had been there to help out. It always a little bit amazing to me how often God orchestrates these kinds of things. He knows what's going on and knows what we need.
Flying home went very well. Because of the loss of blood that my patient was experiencing, I stayed just above the low cloud layer all of the way back to Kampala. I did have an oxygen mask for the patient, but as it is intended to supplement oxygen for a healthy pilot and not supply it for a sick patient, I still stayed as low as possible to provide as much breathable air as possible. After a shallow, 100 foot-per-minute descent down into Kajjansi airstrip, I landed and taxied to our parking spot. Unfortunately, the ambulance was not yet there to meet us, but they did arrive shortly after we landed and the patient did not have to wait too long.
Is was a day of many firsts for Drew. His first flight here in Uganda and his first time to see much of northern Uganda. It was his first time to be there to witness a medevac and to be able to have such an obvious example of the difference that MAF can have to the people who we fly. It also gave him a great story to be able to tell his sisters and friends later on.
Somewhere in all of that flying that day, I passed my second thousand hour milestone and I can't think of a better way to have done so. It is an honor and privilege to be able to serve God through serving these people and workers here in Uganda. As I often do, I thank you once again for your prayers and support for us here in east Africa. God is working through MAF and through the people who we fly to advance His kingdom and to bring glory to His name. May we all be faithful to serve Him in whatever roll that he has called us to fulfill in each of our lives every day.


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ASICS Gel Lyte III - "Snowflake"
Interest for ASICS Gel Lyte III's is still very strong, as onslaught of collaborations keep this particular model on everyone's radar. This "Snowflake" version however is not from an upcoming collaboration, but a general release for ASICS Europe markets. Clad in fresh minty exterior, this Fall/Winter release depicts the cold, yet magical months at the end of the year. The uppers sit atop speckled white soles that match the ASICS stripes on the sides. Inside the shoes, a handful of snowflake graphics reiterates the wintery theme. Stay tuned here for more information on its release.
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text:
17.5 Million Dollar Harvest For World's Largest Farm
Nov 29, 2016 /in AgriProtein /by Press Office
London, 29 November 2016
WASTE-TO-PROTEIN producer AgriProtein today (Tuesday 29 November) announced it has secured USD 17.5 million of further capital from key strategic partners to fund expansion into Europe, North America and Asia.
The new investment values the company at over USD 117 million – making it the most valuable fly-farming business in the world.
The funding enables AgriProtein to meet growing demand from animal feed suppliers for a natural and cost-effective alternative to fishmeal, widely used in the poultry and fish farming industries.
Said co-founder Jason Drew:
"Our fly larvae product is already enjoyed by our consumers – the millions of happy chickens and fish around the world – for whom it's a natural source of protein.
"The new funding demonstrates a growing appetite for fly-farming in the global investment community, helping us pursue our mission to find a better way to feed the world."
On the world's largest farm by headcount, AgriProtein produces and licenses MagMeal™ a high-protein feed made from dried, milled and de-fatted larvae produced by Black Soldier Flies (Hermetia illucens) fed on existing organic waste derived from municipal and other industrial waste partners.
Using its army of 8.5 billion flies, the new expanded factory, to be commissioned in early 2018, will then enable AgriProtein to recycle 250 tonnes of waste per day, boosting larvae production to 50 tonnes per day.
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