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The award winning Stacking Benjamins podcast staggers out of Joe's mom's basement and hits the road with an all-new LIVE show! Built on the science of play, with your help and those of others here in town, we're gonna take money and career discussions to a place they've never been before and actually make them entertaining. Meet Joe, OG, and Neighbor Doug in a 90 minute special version of SB you won't want to miss. You'll be inspired by great professionals and entrepreneurs, hear stories about coping with debt, loss, and tough decisions, learn from your peers and role models….and maybe even tell us YOUR story. Expect 90 minutes of laughs, fun, and maybe you'll even learn a little (but if you do, it's not our fault).
Bio: Joe Saul-Sehy was a financial advisor and media spokesperson for American Express Financial Advisor and Ameriprise before joining the financial media ranks. After launching the first financial show based on the science of play in February of 2011, Stacking Benjamins quickly began winning awards, including Kiplinger's "Best Personal Finance Podcast," Forbes list of 9 Financial Podcasts You Should Be Listening To, two time winner of the personal finance community's Plutus Award for Best Podcast, and the Academy of Podcasters' Best Business Podcast. The show is known for unexpected laughs, top guests from the financial community, and explaining tough concepts in an enjoyable format. Joe graduated with an English Creative Writing degree from Michigan State University in 1993. Co-host OG is a working certified financial planner with over 15 years of experience.


That was of course not always the case, as I discovered when I was the pool reporter for Clinton's tour of an energy-saving building outside New Delhi in July 2009. After being shown water recycling and insulated glass, I was led, along with Clinton's closest advisers, into a conference room where India's environment minister instructed us all to take seats. Before anyone understood what was happening, the first sensitive U.S.-India climate negotiation of the Obama administration had begun—and they unknowingly were doing it with a reporter sitting in, because the Indians assumed I was a member of her staff. It was impossible to move, and I was suddenly getting a glimpse of diplomacy from the inside as a fly on the wall.
Environment Minister Jairam Ramesh sternly lectured Clinton that India was among the lowest per-capita carbon emitters in the world, and given the U.S. track record for polluting wantonly while it industrialized, it would be hypocritical and unacceptable to expect India to adopt legally binding caps on its carbon emissions. Clinton listened respectfully, letting her host finish before attempting to turn his argument on its head. The United States had indeed developed by burning fossil fuels, she agreed, but its leaders now knew better because of the latest research on global climate change. The United States didn't want its friends like India who were still developing to make the same mistakes Washington had, and thanks to new technologies, India had the opportunity to leapfrog over dirty development and become a world leader in green tech. The United States could help, she concluded.
Clinton didn't convince him in that one conversation, but it was a deft and savvy effort to use skills practiced making deals in the U.S. Senate and her understanding of India's self-image as a beacon for the global South to try to win over another country to a U.S. priority.
Five months later at a climate summit in Copenhagen, she and Obama burst in on a secret meeting among the Chinese, Indian and other developing world leaders to strategize against U.S. and European pressure. In her dramatic retelling, the president and she leveraged the element of surprise and expanded on why it was in emerging economies' self-interest to cap emissions.
Eventually, Ramesh came on board with Clinton's original pitch. India pledged to slow its emissions intensity following Copenhagen, and worked closely with the U.S. on a "bottom-up" agreement that set the stage for the Paris climate accord last December. The moves were not always popular in New Delhi, but India now boasts the biggest renewable energy targets in the world, and Prime Minister Narendra Modi has made climate action a centerpiece of his development platform.
Melanne Verveer, Clinton's chief of staff when she was first lady and her ambassador for global women's issues when Clinton was secretary of state, acknowledged it may be hard for the public to perceive Clinton's "small 'p' political skills" that she wielded as a senator and as secretary to get things done. "Where there were governments with whom we had disagreements, her response was not to attack them publicly if there was a chance to win them over. Instead, she would put a spotlight on something that was making a difference in the country. She talked truth to power behind closed doors, and often was able to persuade," because "she used her people-to-people skills," Verveer said.
Those "small p" skills may be crucial for governing, but you need "big P" political skills to get elected. Clinton's challenge is that in an election year that's exposed widespread voter discontent over inequities, candidates like Sanders and Trump who let their own anger loose on stage have successfully tapped into voters' emotions in a way that she has not. "Governing is about nuance. Campaigns are about directly communicating with people all the time. … Campaigns reward channeling people's frustration and anger," said Neera Tanden, who was policy director for Clinton's 2008 campaign.
For Clinton, the disconnect between her ease with the nuances of governing and her discomfort with the performance required in campaigning seems to be deeply rooted. More than any candidate this season, she's been stung by decades of personal and political attacks on her and her husband, and a series of scandals that, fairly or not, she sees as the work of her enemies. That may explain her wariness with the press, her hesitancy to expose herself to the public, the ill-chosen decision to use a private email server as secretary and her campaign's efforts to control the message in a way that doesn't always allow her to showcase her best self.
It's also reasonable to ask if the difference in style between Clinton and every other presidential candidate isn't related, at least partly, to the most obvious difference: gender. "The ways you're supposed to talk as a candidate—'I'm so great,'" like Trump does, "are more offensive coming from women than men," says Deborah Tannen, the Georgetown University professor who has spent a career studying the difference between men's and women's speaking styles. "When women do it, it rubs people the wrong way. But when you're tough, as a candidate is expected to be, people don't like you because women aren't expected to talk that way." Conversely, when one's authority is taken for granted, as Clinton's was as secretary of state, that's when women tend to be most comfortable and to excel in leadership roles.
So what does that contrast mean for Hillary the candidate in 2016—and more important, has she learned anything from all these experiences?
She's clearly learning; she is more comfortable campaigning today than eight years ago. Watching her answer questions this time from undecided voters, like a rabbi in New Hampshire who challenged her to talk about her ego and motivation for running, she's more willing to open up and seems to be enjoying the campaign more. She still does better on the rope line and in small settings than in large arenas.
But reporters trailing her this time tell me her wariness of the campaign press is back, as is her feeling of being under attack, over the events in Benghazi and her use of a private email server. Opportunities to interact with her are once again limited; she went nearly three months till March without holding a press availability, though she's answering more shouted-out questions now, nudged perhaps by Sanders' frequent media interactions.
As secretary of state too, Clinton was often at her best under pressure, negotiating off the cuff to free the Chinese activist who'd taken refuge in the U.S. Embassy and mediating, with then-Egyptian President Mohamed Morsi, an end to the 2012 Hamas-Israel rocket war.
Now it's clinch time against Sanders. Ultimately, Clinton's weaknesses as a candidate may not matter as much if, as expected, she takes New York and goes on to the nomination. If she faces Trump in the general election, she'll be campaigning against someone who polls worse than she does. The latest Associated Press-GfK poll last week found that while 55 percent of the country has a negative view of Clinton, that's surpassed by the 69 percent of America that has a poor view of Trump.
Still, as Clinton has learned the hard way, it's unwise to assume victory when voters are fickle and so much in an election depends on intangibles like inspiration and likability. Clinton is right that she performs better when she's already got the job. But she needs to get the job first.


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Faced with a request for extortion, a company must prove its damages
On appeal, the publisher Enablon was left with most of his civil compensation obtained in the first instance against a blackmailer.
Acquired by Wolters Kluwer in 2016, Enablon is a software publisher for risk management and regulatory compliance. Between mid-2015 and the end of 2018, a former technical director of the publisher, in post from 2005 to 2015 and who left following a contractual termination, unduly remained in the publisher's information system in order to carry out data extractions followed by disclosure blackmail. An email written in English, accompanied by samples of the stolen data, demanded a payment of one million euros in bitcoins to avoid disclosure. This case was the occasion of a case law on the damages of a legal person, concepts that the Court of Appeal of Versailles wanted to clarify by insisting on the evidence to be brought.
Quite easily spotted during the investigation, the very reckless former technical director had admitted his guilt. He was convicted on a criminal court appearance on prior admission of guilt. Then came the hearing on civil interests, in other words compensation for the only victim, publisher Enablon. At first instance, the victim had obtained 325,930.59 euros in compensation for various damages. But, on appeal, the main thing was rejected for lack of sufficient evidence and the compensation reduced to only attorneys' fees, ie 2,000 euros. The victim appealed to the Supreme Court.
The damage to image was thus denied by the Court. Indeed, the blackmail email had not been distributed at the blackmailer's initiative. As a result, no impact or risk on the image or the turnover could validly be held against the accused. A large invoice from a crisis management communications consultancy firm was also dismissed because it was addressed to the parent company Wolters Kluwer and not to the Enablon subsidiary. The connection with the case therefore seemed insufficient to the Court.
Incompany, damages, extortion, faced, its, must, prove, request
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


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I fiammiferi svedesi è un romanzo di Robert Sabatier del 1969. È stato tradotto in italiano da Gioia Zannino Angiolillo per la casa editrice Rizzoli nel 1972.

Note

Romanzi di autori francesi

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


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Functional Connectivity Between Somatosensory and Motor Brain Areas Predicts Individual Differences in Motor Learning by Observing
Heather R. McGregor, View ORCID ProfilePaul L. Gribble
Heather R. McGregor
1The Brain and Mind Institute, Dept. Psychology, The University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario N6A 5B7, Canada
3Graduate Program in Neuroscience, The University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario N6A 5B7, Canada
For correspondence: paul@gribblelab.org
Paul L. Gribble
2Dept. Physiology & Pharmacology, The University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario N6A 5B7, Canada
4The University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario N6A 5B7, Canada
ORCID record for Paul L. Gribble
Action observation can facilitate the acquisition of novel motor skills, however, there is considerable individual variability in the extent to which observation promotes motor learning. Here we tested the hypothesis that individual differences in brain function or structure can predict subsequent observation-related gains in motor learning. Subjects underwent an anatomical MRI scan and resting-state fMRI scans to assess pre-observation grey matter volume and pre-observation resting-state functional connectivity (FC), respectively. On the following day, subjects observed a video of a tutor adapting her reaches to a novel force field. After observation, subjects performed reaches in a force field as a behavioral assessment of gains in motor learning resulting from observation. We found that individual differences in resting-state FC, but not grey matter volume, predicted post-observation gains in motor learning. Pre-observation resting-state FC between left S1 and bilateral PMd, M1, S1 and left SPL was positively correlated with behavioral measures of post-observation motor learning. Sensory-motor resting-state FC can thus predict the extent to which observation will promote subsequent motor learning.
New & Noteworthy We show that individual differences in pre-observation brain function can predict subsequent observation-related gains in motor learning. Pre-observation resting-state functional connectivity within a sensory-motor network may be used as a biomarker for the extent to which observation promotes motor learning. This kind of information may be useful if observation is to be used as a way to boost neuroplasticity and sensory motor recovery for patients undergoing rehabilitation for diseases that impair movement such as stroke.
The authors report no financial interests or conflicts of interests.
The copyright holder for this preprint is the author/funder, who has granted bioRxiv a license to display the preprint in perpetuity. It is made available under a CC-BY-ND 4.0 International license.
Posted May 24, 2017.
You are going to email the following Functional Connectivity Between Somatosensory and Motor Brain Areas Predicts Individual Differences in Motor Learning by Observing
Heather R. McGregor, Paul L. Gribble


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Q: Flutter returning data from another website I need to integrate Flutter with an already existing SSO for a client. I am using url_launcher to open up an external webpage in Flutter for them to sign on, however I cannot find a way to return data from that website to Flutter via url_launcher. I can't use HTML get/posts because it won't work for the SSO apparently since it uses SAML? Is there a way to circumvent this? I have access to a NodeJS server which I can use for this project, if any solution could be made around that.
Best regards,
Chai

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


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Our trip to magical Sedona was just that! I did readings and healings at an awesome abundance workshop, in a resort hotel. I met some wonderful women,
and had some paradigm shifting "Aha!" moments about my belief systems.
I taught a meditation and healing class right near the Oak Creek, and we could feel the elementals, and Indian spirits there, peeking into our strong, protective class bubble. It was such a healing! Clairvoyantly I could see the Indian spirits, and Kachina spirit forms all over the rock formations, and I could feel the effect of the vortex energy. For me it felt quite buzzy, as if I had ingested too much coffee, and had gone for a run. I was open, yet grounded, and amused, as we went for a morning vortex hike with a group of women. Moving my body, and hiking in such beauty was a healing in itself, and I could see the figure of a youthful male Indian watching us, as we made our way around the rocks on our path. I could feel someone behind me, gently playing with my hair.
My friend and I went on ahead, and found a secluded place to do some energy work; a dry river bed filled with smooth, round rocks. We made a circle and burned some sage, and some Palo Santo. We called in the Archangels, and
Ascended Masters, and beings of love and light from the area. We felt the vortex
energy go through us, and asked for a healing. We saw and felt some amazing
things during that ritual, and I am still processing them today.
My friend felt all warm, and good, and saw a past life she had had near there, as an Indian, a boy. She saw herself as a child, and she saw an eagle, and it felt
like home.
For me, I saw Ascended Lady Master Nada, very close to me, and she was handing me a rose. I also saw three Indian women, who were around me. They
were gently playing with my hair, and they put a shawl around me, which felt so
soft and warm, but also very powerful. It was the softest, but the most powerful
energy I have ever experienced. We thanked them, opened our circle, and made our way back to the group, where we said our goodbyes, and gave blessings. Thank you to all for an amazing journey of beauty, insight, and healing.


No need to freeze waiting for the Penguin Parade! Have these feathered friends in your garden even in the heat of summer. These lovable creatures are found along Australia's rugged coastline. Their feathers act as camouflage, their black bottom half blending with the murkyness of the sea and their white their white feathers up top blend into the brightness of the sun! Our Penguin is guaranteed to make you smile, everytime you seem them in your garden, a beautiful piece of art and cute as anything!
Material: 3mm Corten steel - deisgned to rust and age beautifully over time.


The library of the Villa of the Papyri in Herculaneum is the only known library preserved in place from the Greco-Roman world. Carbonized in the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 CE, hundreds of papyri were rediscovered in 1752–1754 during the excavation of an aristocratic villa which many believe to have been that of L. Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus, father-in-law of Julius Caesar. Piso was the patron of an important Epicurean philosopher, Philodemus of Gadara (b. about 110–d. about 35 BCE), and the vast majority of the books discovered to date are either by Philodemus (including multiple copies and what may be drafts) or likely to have belonged to his working collection. Among the latter are important texts by earlier Epicureans, including the On nature of Epicurus himself, in copies paleographically dated to long before Philodemus's lifetime. Besides the Epicurean texts, there are a few Stoic books, also perhaps originally the property of Philodemus or his school, and a relatively small number of Latin texts, both poetry and prose. These may be the remnants of a larger Latin library, the greater part of which lies buried in the unexcavated part of the Villa. Following a long period of relative neglect, the Herculaneum papyri have begun in recent years to be recognized as a source of unique value and to be studied intensively. A turning point was the foundation of the Centro Internazionale per lo Studio dei Papiri Ercolanesi (CISPE) at the initiative of Marcello Gigante in 1969. The Centro's journal, Cronache Ercolanesi, has published some of the most important modern studies in the field, and authoritative editions of many of the principal texts have appeared there and in the series La Scuola di Epicuro, directed by Gigante until his death in 2001. New light has been shed on the collection and its history by the study of archival documents, while textual and paleographical studies have profited immeasurably from the availability of a complete set of digital infrared images, made around the turn of the millennium. Readings can now be easily verified, and much text hitherto considered illegible can at last be read with the aid of the images. Further technological innovations may be expected to bring to light major texts in years to come both from the unopened rolls found in the original excavations and from those that scholars hope to unearth when excavation resumes.
Several surveys have appeared in recent years, reflecting the renewed interest in the subject. Capasso 1991 is the fullest; the briefer Delattre 2006 is more up-to-date in some areas. Sider 2005 brings out the importance of the subject in a beautifully illustrated and up-to-date study recommendable for the general or undergraduate reader, while Sider 2009 is a good starting point for more advanced readers. Longo Auricchio 2008 provides an up-to-date and nontechnical overview of the library and its contents.
Capasso, Mario. 1991. Manuale di papirologia ercolanese. Galatina, Italy: Congedo.
An authoritative guide to the field by a leading expert, lavishly illustrated. Particularly helpful on the history of the discovery and of work on the papyri from the earliest period to the date of publication, and on physical and paleographical aspects of the rolls.
Delattre, Daniel. 2006. La Villa des Papyrus et les rouleaux d'Herculanum: La bibliothèque de Philodème. Liège, Belgium: CEDOPAL.
Surveys the main issues, taking account of recent discoveries from a period of particularly rapid progress.
Longo Auricchio, Francesca. 2008. La biblioteca ercolanese. Atene e Roma, 2d new ser. 2:190–209.
An accessible survey of the library and the books so far identified.
Sider, David. 2005. The library of the Villa dei Papiri at Herculaneum. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum.
A nontechnical survey, accessible to general readers and undergraduates, with many excellent illustrations.
Sider, David. 2009. The special case of Herculaneum. In The Oxford handbook of papyrology. Edited by Roger S. Bagnall, 303–319. New York: Oxford Univ. Press.
A brief account, providing a good introduction for graduate students and others beginning work in the field.


Hinesburg Open House - Sunday 9/30 - 1-3PM!
This Sunday, September 30, 2018 from 1:00-3:00 PM, Geri Reilly Real Estate is hosting an Open House! Join us in Hinesburg. Stop by to say "hi" and take a look around!
3 BR/2BA country cape on 3.3 acres! Spacious and sunny with plenty of room to entertain, kitchen with breakfast bar & plenty of cabinets, living room w/ woodstove, beautiful stone walls and landscaping. Easy commute to Burlington & I-89.
You're Ready to Sell, But What's the First Step?
So, you've decided to sell your home, now it's time to prepare to list. The process of selling a home can be quite stressful for all those who are involved, but there are ways to make the process move more smoothly. The list below outlines a few steps you can take that can save time later on.
A clean and orderly house is much easier for realtors to show and for potential buyers to visualize themselves in.
Also, a clean house is a well cared for house. You don't want the house to seem neglected.
Those projects that you have been meaning to do can make a huge difference in the appearance of your home.
Try to finish your projects like the room you've been meaning to repaint or the carpet that needs to be replaced prior to listing your property.
A random selection of your outlets will be tested during a home inspection so make sure they are all in working order, make sure they all work ahead of time.
Also, check to make sure they are all up to code. It's good to consider hiring a licensed electrician as they will be able to make sure that everything is in good working order.
Inspectors will need access to basements & attics as well as the foundation, water heater, HVAC systems and more. These areas can be cleared ahead of time to make the process easier. It also allows potential buyers to get a better look at the house.
An experienced and professional inspector will be able to go through the home and alert you to any problem areas so that you can fix them and get it out of the way ahead of time. This will make the selling & closing process much smoother in the long run.
Taking the time to prepare ahead of time can streamline the process and reduce stress for everyone involved. Selling a home is an exciting opportunity for change and when you take the steps to properly prepare it makes it all the better.
Colchester & Essex Open Houses This Sunday 1-3PM!
This Sunday, September 23, 2018 from 1:00-3:00 PM, Geri Reilly Real Estate is hosting 2 Open Houses! Join us in Colchester & Essex. Stop by to say "hi" and take a look around!
W onderful 4BR/2.5BA split level with a convenient Malletts Bay Location. A Spacious home with gas fireplace, bay window and beautiful kitchen with upgraded appliances. An expanded deck and fully fenced in yard are perfect for entertaining! Walk to Thayer Beach!
L ovely 2BR/2.5BA carriage home in the Countryside neighborhood. Open floor plan with lots of windows, great room with vaulted ceiling and atrium door to back deck, spacious mater suite with walk-in closet, and family room & half bath on lower level. Don't miss this!


Happy Chaps offer professional carpet cleaning services right across the Gold Coast region.
They provide their cleaning services to both residential and commercial customers, and use only the highest quality environmentally friendly cleaning materials for all environments.
Their team is qualified and licensed. Customers can obtain a quotation online and get expert advice on home and office cleaning services.


Police are still investigating a single motor vehicle collision on Coronation Boulevard that took the life of a female teenage passenger.
At approximately 10:15 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 30, 2018, Kingston Police, Ontario Provincial Police, Frontenac Paramedics, and Kingston Fire and Rescue responded to the collision on Coronation Boulevard south of Taylor Kidd Boulevard. There, the single vehicle was situated where it had impacted a limestone rock cut. The vehicle had extensive front-end damage, according to Kingston Police.
Both occupants, a 16-year-old male driver from Kingston, and a 16-year-old female passenger from Amherstivew, were inside the vehicle when first responders arrived. The male was conscious and able to talk, but the female was unresponsive and had to be extracted from the vehicle. Both parties were rushed to hospital by ambulance, and the female later succumbed to her injuries.
The Kingston Police Level 4 Reconstructionist Traffic Unit attended the scene to conduct the investigation. The investigation is on-going at this time, and anyone with information who has not already spoken to police is asked to contact Det. Lisa Damczyk at 613-549-4660 ext. 6162, or by email at ldamczyk@kingstonpolice.ca. Information can also be provided anonymously by calling Kingston Police at 613-549-4660 and asking to be anonymous, or by calling Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477 (TIPS).
Graffiti vs Tagging: Is Either Acceptable?


The Impact Report highlights our work connecting young Londoners with employers.
Our mission is to work with disadvantaged young people to raise awareness, develop skills and create access to financial professional and related services with the aims of increasing social mobility and diversity in the workplace.
Through our partnerships with businesses across London's financial districts, we're working to ensure fair and equal access to careers in financial, professional and related services.
Read the 2018 Impact Report.


Enjoy special promotions at the Atlantis Fun Center!
*Only core subjects are eligible to receive such as math, science, English, etc. Elective or supplementary subjects such as P.E., shop, band, etc. do not apply to the Games for Grades program. No reward will be given for those types of courses. Reward amounts shall not exceed $10.
Receive a 40% discount on a $10 game card when you present your receipt for any kids' meal from Chicago Dogs! Eatery. Ask your server for more information.


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Interview: Doctor Who goes VR in The Edge of Time
Shacknews meets up with the producer of Doctor Who: The Edge of Time to ask pressing questions about the Doctor's latest adventure.
Doctor Who fans, listen up: The Doctor is back in the house, this time in an all-new adventure developed by Maze Theory exclusively for VR platforms. Shacknews was able to meet up with Kiron Ramdewar, producer for Doctor Who: The Edge of Time, at San Diego Comic-Con 2019 to learn more about how Mazy Theory adapted the Doctor Who canon into a virtual reality gaming format.
"Doctor Who: The Edge of Time is a full-fledged, feature-length VR game that's coming to PlayStation VR, Oculus, and Vive headsets this September," Ramdewar told Shacknews. "In this, you're playing as the Doctor's companion. She's being held at the edge of space and time by a new mysterious enemy [...] and she'll be talking to you to help you to [procure] the items needed to help restore the universe and make it whole again."
In a nutshell, Doctor Who: The Edge of Time tells a distinctly narrative experience filled with puzzle-based actions and even a few escape room-like experiences. With that said, the producer indicates that the new VR release will include its fair share of action elements, and even a few places where stealth will come into play.
Not only will The Edge of Time present the Doctor Who canon in an all-new light, players can also expect to see at least one entirely new enemy called the Hydrorks. Of course, the Doctor's usual antagonists will also be around causing trouble for the player, including the familiar Weeping Angels as well as the Daleks.
Doctor Who: The Edge of Time will release for the Oculus Quest, Oculus Rift, HTC Vive, and PlayStation VR in September. For more developer interviews and convention video coverage, make sure to follow Shacknews and GamerHubTV on YouTube.
Shacknews Presents: Pop! Goes the Culture! Episode 85
ShackStream: The Stevetendo show! Episode 281
Watch the Xbox & Bethesda January 25 Developer Direct here
Unboxing & Review: HasLab Spengler's Proton Pack
Kevin Tucker posted a new article, Interview: Doctor Who goes VR in The Edge of Time


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Love That Book! First Chapters
~ Start Reading Now
Category Archives: Bartender protagonist
Death Among the Stars
Posted by Book Lover in Action Adventure, Bartender protagonist, bartenders guide to murder, Female protagonist, Fiction, Hollywood, Mystery, sharon linnea, Uncategorized
Adirondack fiction, Baratender's Guide to Murder, bartender sleuth, cocktail recipes, female sleuth, film festival, Lake Placid, movie star, Mystery, sharon linnea
IN THE ADIRONDACKS
One more piece. Or seven.
The young man took a sip of Malbec and fitted the puzzle piece shaped like a fish into the larger work that created a sitting fox. A fox with a strange, knowing grin on his face. It was a long time since he'd done a jigsaw puzzle. The rental cabin had a stack of them, all wooden, with shaped pieces. This one was close to complete.
Rise was grateful to his manager for renting this Adirondack cabin. He'd flown across country from Los Angeles three days early, to rest, re-center and dismiss any jet lag. In Los Angeles there was a pile of scripts on his desk—he'd only brought the three most promising along to read—constant calls and texts, a demanding personal trainer, and, oh yeah, four stalkers, two of whom required restraining orders.
Ah, the life of a star.
Except he wasn't a star, only a guy who'd grown up on television in three different series. Enough folks were so comfortable with him in their living rooms they figured they should be married. To him. And became violent when he didn't agree.
It had been a wonderful couple of days. His assistant, Con Allred, had laid in supplies, his favorite food, and he'd been able to cook for himself. Con had then gone ahead to join Rise's agent, manager and publicity crew to lay the groundwork for the premiere of his new feature film.
A car would be sent for Rise in the morning, his hiatus over.
The tall actor ran a hand through his golden blonde hair, snapped another piece into the puzzle and groaned. Two pieces were missing. Why would you rent a cabin and offer your guests puzzles with missing pieces?
He took another large sip of wine. The fire was burning down, a bed of orange embers lined the fireplace floor. Add another log, or let it go out?
If he wanted to be fresh and rested for the film festival, he should probably take some melatonin and read awhile, then get some sleep.
Rise drained the wine glass, washed it out and put it to dry by the sink. The cabin was made of wood with antlers everywhere. He stepped outside onto the small porch, then sat in a dark-green Adirondack chair. Rushing water of the nearby Ausable River spoke of recent rain; the piquant, calming scent of pine melded with the loam of the earth. He breathed deeply.
Back in Los Angeles, his house was a fortress, alarms everywhere. Even so, one enterprising woman, a teacher for god's sake, had left a note on his bed when he was away filming. His agent had gotten a letter from another of his stalkers, a psychologist, explaining they were uniquely psychologically suited for each other. Therefore, if she couldn't have Rise, she'd have to hurt him. A young man had stopped his mother in the grocery store and introduced himself as Rise's fiancé. Someone had followed and confronted his mom. His mom!
Rise hated being on guard all the time. Which was why he was sorry to leave the solitude of the cabin to rejoin the world in the morning. It was rented under his manager's brother's secretary's son's name. No one knew he was here.
The actor stood and stretched, then went back inside, and locked the door. He headed into the bedroom where he pulled on pajama pants and a t-shirt. He scrubbed his face in the master bath and popped two melatonin gummies.
The queen-sized bed had a quilt with an Adirondack design featuring bears dancing around a campfire. Rise picked up a script from the bedside table at random, put on his glasses, and began to read. Within ten minutes, he couldn't keep his eyes open.
It was all he could do to turn off the light before falling into a dreamless sleep.
His phone rang at seven the next morning.
"The car's on its way. It'll be outside in twenty," said Isobel, his agent. "See you at the hotel for breakfast."
"Roger. Wilco," said Rise.
He wiped sleep from his eyes and went to shower and dress. He was already packed. It wasn't long before the crunch of tires arrived outside the cabin. A glance out the bathroom window showed it to be a Range Rover driven by Castor, Isobel's favorite driver. Rise was grateful she hadn't sent the stretch.
Castor knocked on the door and Rise came through the room, pulling his suitcase. The shorter, stockier man gave Rise a friendly nod and took the bag. Rise walked around the living room, doing one last visual check. The puzzle. Should he rebox?
He stood in front of the table. And stared.
Castor was saying something, but Rise didn't hear him.
The puzzle was complete. All the pieces were locked in. None missing.
The paper towel next to the puzzle, which had a small rim of Malbec from Rise's glass the night before on it, now also had a tiny heart, drawn by pen. Filled in with lipstick.
Castor came and stood next to him, looking at the puzzle and the paper towel. A knowing smile crossed his face. "Fun night?" he asked. "Come on, we've got to go, or Isobel will have our heads."
Rise grabbed the paper towel and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.
It was only when he got into the car that he began to tremble.
EVENING'S END
Tranquility, New York, held a new spark of energy. I felt it as I walked the nearly-empty sidewalks at 11:30 p.m. on that clear September Tuesday evening. A brisk chill seasoned the air around old-fashioned streetlights whose bulbs flickered merrily as if the lamplighter had recently come by. The shops of Main Street also spoke of an earlier day. They were brick or clapboard, one story or two, although the Adirondack Adventure Hotel had dared climb to four floors, the village's version of a skyscraper.
The Tranquility Film Festival was opening that weekend and I was looking forward to it. First, because I had friends whose documentary was certain to create a stir. Second, with the first festival screening on Thursday, actors, directors, publicists, and journalists were beginning to descend in their limos and fancy rental cars. Their imminent arrival excited the locals, even those who claimed disinterest, and the crowd at the pub I manage and bartend was buzzing with anticipation. Food, drinks, and high spirits flowed freely all evening.
MacTavish's, the Scottish-style inn that housed that pub—formally named That Ship Has Sailed, but universally called the Battened Hatch—was on the south end of Main, while my cottage was nestled in a hidden glade called Mill Pond off the northern end. I'd decided to walk to work that afternoon, in the late-summer heat with the teasing hint of autumn leaves. Tonight, the mountains that rimmed town loomed as a backdrop, purple and protective. We'd closed the bar at 11. My barback, Marta, and I took some extra time swapping out the next day's drink specials in the holders on each table. Marta then hurried off on her bike, and I headed home, savoring the pre-festival calm by strolling the walkways of my adopted home.
Most businesses, including restaurants, were closed, their nighttime illumination offering a soft glow over wares displayed in shop windows. There was one notable exception: the Orpheum Theater, where the festival was soon to begin. Outdoor lights shone and the marquee was aglow.
I paused to study the listing of films with the dates and times of their screenings. Salty Sally and Pepper: Truth Be Told, the documentary featuring as yet unknown stories about two screen idols of Hollywood's Golden Age who'd lived in Tranquility, would show on Saturday afternoon, a prime slot.
Glancing inside the hall that led to the lobby, I saw posters for the festival's other films lining the walls. It was kind of odd that the lobby doors were still open. Surely the night's final screenings of regular movies were done by now? As I entered to study a poster for an independent feature, Kyle, the lanky teenager who ran concessions during the week and usually closed up, walked into the lobby. He saw me and waved. I waved back.
"Just perusing," I said, signaling my willingness to leave.
He joined me in the outer hall. "You work around here, right?"
"Yes, I'm Avalon. Nash. I bartend at the Battened Hatch. In MacTavish's."
"Could you help me for a minute?" He looked nervous.
"The last movie's over. I need to close up. But some girl fell asleep in the theater."
"You can't wake her up?"
"I tried saying, 'wake up,' but it didn't work."
"If she slept through an action movie, I'm not surprised. Did you try shaking her shoulder?"
Kyle looked uncomfortable. "I don't want to touch her or anything. We've had harassment training."
"Okay." How could I not help such a well-meaning kid?
The Orpheum was a grand movie palace back in the day. Now it was carved into three theaters, the largest of which was downstairs, in the footprint of the original. The once-commanding balcony was split in half to create two smaller screening spaces, but each remained large and raked with the original stairs going down each outside wall.
The sleeper was in theater three, upstairs. I trotted up the carpeted steps behind Kyle, who was obviously eager to get on with things.
All the theater lights were on, including the harsh work lights, which took away any golden veneer of the magic of storytelling. I headed down to where the young woman was seated, fifth row center, and walked across row four to be squarely in front of her.
The movie-goer was petite, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with the carefree good looks of youth, wearing a form-fitting white cashmere sweater that showed off her flawless tan skin, and jeggings. Her small popcorn was settled into the seat beside her. She hadn't enjoyed much of it before dozing off.
"Excuse me," I said. No reply.
"Miss?" I put my knee onto the folded seat bottom in front of me and leaned forward, reaching out and shaking the young woman's leg. I shook harder. Her naturally curly brown hair jostled, but she didn't move. "Hello?"
I glanced up at Kyle, who shrugged, see what I mean?
Willing myself not to think the worst, or even the second-worst, I walked back a row and across it. I put a hand firmly on the girl's shoulder and shook her. "The movie's over."
She fell forward.
Her popcorn spilled over her seat and onto the floor.
That's when I thought the worst.
Fresh whole orange (peeled and pulled apart, save peel)
1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 oz honey (preferably local)
1 1/2 oz Bourbon/Whiskey of your choice
In medium saucepan add water, turmeric, one large piece of orange peel and honey. Let simmer for about 10 minutes and stir occasionally. In large mug add Bourbon or Whiskey and then add a ladle or two of hot toddy mixture.
Relax, sip and enjoy going into dreamland.
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Explore the Bartender's Guide to Murder website for fun recipes!
Sharon Linnéa is the bestselling author of the Eden Thrillers (Chasing Eden, Beyond Eden, Treasure of Eden & Plagues of Eden) with co-author B.K. Sherer, following the adventures of Army chaplain Jaime Richards. She is also the author of the Movie Murder Mystery These Violent Delights, and the YA spy thriller Domino 29 (as Axel Avian). Sharon wrote the Carter Woodson Award-winning biography, Princess Ka'iulani: Hope of a Nation, Heart of a People, and Raoul Wallenberg: The Man Who Stopped Death. She began working on The Bartender's Guide to Murder mysteries after a catastrophic house fire made her decide to do something a bit more fun for a while. She enjoys visiting book clubs virtually and in person. Sharon@SharonLinnea.com
Visit Her Author Website SharonLinnea.com
Death by Gravity
Posted by Book Lover in Action Adventure, Bartender protagonist, bartenders guide to murder, Female protagonist, Fiction, Mystery, sharon linnea, Suspense, Uncategorized
bartender sleuth, bartenders guide to murder, Female protagonist, Mystery, Olympics, recipes included, sharon linnea
Seven-year-old Davy Edison awoke alone in the dark. He had a moment of frightened confusion before he was able to orient himself. He was in a tent that he and his older sister, Misty, had concocted out of sheets and chairs downstairs in the television room.
Davy loved it when their parents went out and Misty babysat. They always thought of fun trouble to get into—like building a fort out of blankets, eating barbecue wings, and watching shows of which their parents didn't approve.
However, the television was now off and the sleeping bag next to
him was empty. Misty must have gone up to bed. Davy briefly considered going back to sleep, but he had to pee, and his real bed was more comfortable, anyway. He used the downstairs bathroom and walked through silent halls to the staircase in the bedroom wing. To his right at the first landing, the door to the staircase that led to his parents' floor was closed, which meant they'd come home.
He padded down the long hall toward his room. When he passed Misty's room, he was surprised to find the door slightly ajar. He pushed against it silently and opened it a few inches to see if she was still awake.
Her bed hadn't been slept in. One of the French doors to her balcony was open.
"Mist?" he whispered, as he stepped into the room.
The sheer curtain by the outside deck fluttered, and he stopped. He could see shapes outside. More than one. This threw him enough that he didn't hear the person who stepped up behind him until the man grabbed him firmly with one hand and planted his other hand over Davy's mouth. Davy heard him kick the hall door closed behind them.
"What the hell are you doing here?" asked an angry whisper.
Davy did the first thing he thought of: he chomped down on the
top of the hand over his mouth.
"Where's my sister?" he hissed.
"You are in so much trouble, you little freak. You've got two choices. You shut up, now, right now, and you stay silent, silent, till morning, or your sister and your parents all die. We have your sister already. I can shoot your parents before they even wake up!"
Davy was thinking fast. He'd heard about kids who were kidnapped and their siblings keeping quiet way too long because they were scared. That wasn't him. He had to pretend to go along. He nodded his head. When the man took his hand away a few millimeters, he said, "Okay. Okay! I'll be quiet. Just don't hurt her! Put me down. Let me go to my room!"
"Fat chance, idiot kid," said the voice. It sounded rusty, like it had to bounce over lots of nails to get from the voice box to the air.
"Put me down," he said, with a bravado he didn't feel.
The man put him down, but awkwardly, so he landed on the dude's shoe and lost his balance. The kidnapper was suddenly furious. His other hand grabbed something, and suddenly there was steel against the boy's throat.
"No!" Davy cried.
"First you, then her," came the raspy reply.
And everything went black.
Davy woke up in Misty's bed while it was still dark outside. Her balcony door was closed. She was gone. He knew he had to sound the alarm as soon as possible, no matter what the kidnapper had threatened, but his arms were bound behind him and he had duct tape over his mouth. It hurt to have his arms pulled back that way. His shoulders were burning, but there was nothing he could do. The tape over his mouth was sticky, and it smelled like oil. He couldn't move his lips or open his mouth or swallow his saliva properly.
Worst was that he couldn't get anyone's attention. He couldn't save Misty.
Warm tears traced his cheeks and moistened Misty's pillow.
By morning, when his parents finally found him, she was long gone.
CHAPTER 1 TORTURING THE NEWBIES
It was the first Saturday night in June. Tranquility, New York, is far enough north that the warm evening breezes over the lake still felt new and intoxicating. Why folks needed further intoxication I do not know, but the Battened Hatch was hopping. Everyone was in high spirits.
Shortly after 8 p.m., Brent Davis and his wife, Susan, took seats at the beautifully carved wooden bar. "Hey, Avalon," Brent said. He was of British heritage and wore a long-sleeved button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, the quintessential newspaper editor. His beard was trimmed and comfortably
salt-and-pepper, his glasses wire-rimmed. "Throw me a Stella and a white wine for the wife."
I smiled at Susan. "Chardonnay?" I asked.
"Perfect." She nodded.
"When did you get back from LA?" I queried Brent as I poured. "How's the film shaping up?"
"Got home a few hours ago," he responded, a spark behind his eyes. He was producing a documentary on the town's golden-era movie stars, Pepper Porter and Sally Allison, which had some unexpected new plot twists, due to a recent murder investigation. It now looked to be a humdinger, as Pepper might have said. "It'll be a challenge to finish it in time for the Tranquility Film Festival in August."
"Can't wait to see it!" I responded truthfully. Sally Allison was one of my favorite movie stars of all time. Not to mention, my current landlord.
"Thanks for your help," Brent added, lifting his glass.
"Hope there are no upcoming giant news stories to split your attention."
Brent was also the editor-in-chief of the local newspaper.
"It's Tranquility. I think we're safe," he said.
The ding of new drink orders came to the bar from the POS on the restaurant floor. I exchanged an eyeroll with Marta, my teal-haired bartender-in-waiting, as the paper continued to scroll. Our new waiter, Davros, shrugged at us from the mid-floor machine.
Olympic medalist Brian Eddings was holding court tonight, and the liquor was flowing. Brian wasn't the only Olympian who frequented the Battened Hatch. Gillian Petrakov, a former bronze medalist in figure skating, sat at the bar even now, her blonde hair in a bun, fitted pink sweater set embracing her still-taut figure, next to her partner, Callie (non-skater, brown hair, ran a nonprofit).
"Brian is torturing the Newbies again." Gillian smiled.
Tranquility is one of two places in the United States where athletes can train for winter sports year-round. Brian lived locally. I met him when he turned up here at the Scottish tavern shortly after I came to town. You knew when he was in the room—as did everyone in town, apparently—and they started arriving in groups to join his instant party.
"The Newbies?" I asked.
"Bobsledding is a unique sport," Gillian said. "Take figure skating—you have to train for decades. But bobsledders—all you have to be is strong, fast, and able to jump. Every year, Olympic scouts head for colleges to entice track stars and even shot-putters to come and try out for Olympic bobsled team."
"Really?" I asked, wiping down the bar. "Does it ever work out?"
"Yep, there have been times when a college kid shows up in June and has competed in the next Winter Olympics!"
As she said that, a tall man walked into the bar from the door to MacTavish's Seaside Cottage, the hotel that housed us. It was a sprawling, hundred-year-old establishment that was not seaside (though lakeside) and had no cottages. There was, however, a MacTavish.
The newcomer was European-American, maybe six feet, short brown hair, trim, and wearing a gray polo tucked into gray slacks. His eyes scanned the place and he smiled, as if entertaining memories from his past. I turned, ready to ask if he wanted to be seated, when he saw the group at the back of the room. His smile vanished. He turned on his heel and walked out.
Alrighty, then. I turned my attention back to Gillian. "So how does Brian torture them?"
"He's not their coach, obviously. He competed in luge. But he can't resist so many freaked-out, naïve athletes. They've been living like monks in Olympic housing for the past three weeks. As soon as they're allowed out, he brings them here and buys them beer. They—and their coaches—won't be happy tomorrow morning."
"So why do they keep letting him do it?"
"Good question." Gillian sipped her drink. "The truth is monks don't make very good bobsledders, but the coaches can't be seen to be condoning this behavior. But—whew—the kids gotta get this energy out somehow! Brian's like a father figure… but father figures aren't always the best influences!"
"Tell me about it."
A huge whoop went up. I looked up—to find the previously full tables suddenly emptied of athletes and their adult beverages.
"What the… ?"
The door to the smoker's porch was open. Another group cry went up, followed by a loud splash.
Marta followed me to the open door. And there, on the smoker's porch, Brian Eddings had built himself a luge. He'd put two square tables together with another four-top on it. He'd added a sturdy wooden chair with arms on top of that table. He'd appropriated all my tablecloth clips to attach a long tablecloth to the wooden chair, again to the lower table, and then to the front of the lower level to jerry-rig a mini-luge run. Seriously.
One prospective Olympian stood on the top table, holding the chair solid while two others held the cloth taut lower down. Two young men had already careened down and off into the lake. Another was climbing the rickety contraption even now, holding a bussing tray to ride on his journey.
"Baron McNulty for the win!" crowed the young man, throwing
himself onto the slanted tablecloth, sliding off the porch and into
"Dear God, Brian, what are you doing?" I asked. "MacTavish's insurance does not cover reckless porch slides!"
"Aw, lassie," he said, in an affected voice purposely reminiscent of Glenn, the owner of MacTavish's.
The next young man at the top of the climb pushed off, and hurled down into the lake.
"Back inside! Everyone!" I instructed. "Free buffalo wings. On the house."
That did it. A different kind of whoop and the portion of young men who had little interest in killing themselves jumping off metal chairs headed back in.
Marta and I dismantled the furniture sculpture and stood for a moment. I have no doubt she was joining me to silently pay respects to my predecessor who had died on this very porch.
The rest of the night slid past quickly, as busy pub nights do. At midnight, a minibus pulled up to return Olympic hopefuls to their apartments at the training facility. Shortly thereafter, a trio of young women left, helping their friend walk between them. They'd each had one drink, and I wondered if their affected friend had an intolerance or allergy. Or if she'd simply downed all three drinks herself.
Brian Eddings stayed to help Manuela, the bus-person, clear, as his group's tables were in shambles. Brian's face and chin were square, with an indent in the bulb of his nose, as if someone has pressed a fingerprint to it. His hair was blond and close-cropped, although Olympic photos of him showed it longer and unruly. His eyes were alert, brimming with intelligence and mischief. Living in Tranquility, you hear pretty quickly that life after being an Olympian—medalist or not—is rough going for many athletes. I appreciated that Brian was willing to be a bit wild but truly thoughtful at the same time.
I closed out the POS and came back as Manuela and Brian finished separating the now-cleaned tables.
"Thanks, Manuela," I said.
"Good night," she replied and headed out.
"Sorry if we made more work," said Brian, eyes flashing. "But it's a rip."
"A rip?"
"Rip-roaring time!"
He was so pleased as he said it, I couldn't help but laugh. At least no one had broken their neck on his jerry-rigged luge. As we worked together, I noticed that he wasn't inebriated in the least. He said he didn't drink, and he stuck to it.
"Good night," he said. As he passed, he crushed a bill into my hand. "For the extra trouble," he said. "And the wings."
I'd comped the wings, figuring they'd be cheaper for MacTavish's than the bad publicity of a future Olympian breaking his neck luging off the smoker's porch.
"Night," I replied, following, turning out the lights. As I locked the door behind him, I glanced at the tip. It was a one-hundred-dollar bill.
That was, allegedly, the last time anyone saw Brian Eddings alive.
TORTURING THE NEWBIES
Sour mix
Add 2 ounces of sour mix to a glass with ice.
Top with seltzer.
Add lime for garnish.
Sip all night and be proud of yourself in the morning.
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text:
Q: Doob–Meyer decomposition Let $X_n = \sum_{m≤n} 1_{B_m} $and suppose $B_n \in F_n$. What is the Doob
decomposition for $X_n$ ? I can write it down from the construction of the theorem, but is there any neat way showing the result?

A: It follows from the fact that $1_{B_k}$ is $\mathcal{F}_{n-1}$-measurable for $k \leq n-1$ that
$$\mathbb{E}(X_n \mid \mathcal{F}_{n-1}) = X_{n-1} + \mathbb{P}(B_n \mid \mathcal{F}_{n-1}).$$
Subtracting $A_n := \sum_{k=1}^n \mathbb{P}(B_k \mid \mathcal{F}_{k-1})$ on both sides yields
$$\mathbb{E}(X_n - A_n \mid \mathcal{F}_{n-1}) = X_{n-1} - A_{n-1}.$$
This shows that $M_n := X_n-A_n$ is a martingale. Consequently, the Doob decomposition is given by
$$X_n = \underbrace{\sum_{k=1}^n 1_{B_k}-\mathbb{P}(B_k \mid \mathcal{F}_{k-1})}_{\text{martingale}}+ \underbrace{\sum_{k=1}^n \mathbb{P}(B_k \mid \mathcal{F}_{k-1})}_{\text{predictable}}.$$