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megmccarthyfiction
Society Ladies
November 9, 2015 November 9, 2015 Meg McCarthy3 Comments
The Green Tote Bag Ladies Society of Greater Boston and Southern New Hampshire was a too-long name for a group of women who wore obscenely large green purses on day trips into the city.
Josie Donahue found herself driving the twenty or so minutes East towards her first meeting for the society, not entirely sure what she was doing. It had been her son's idea that she do it. She didn't know what to expect, and after a week-long debate in which she cursed herself (but mostly her son) she'd resigned herself to at least go to the initial meeting. If it went badly, she'd leave and never look back.
It would be that easy.
From what she learned about the society (at least, what the pamphlet mailed back to her outlined) the Green Tote Bag Ladies Society met once a month, sipping tea and eating triangle-cut sandwiches discussing where their next adventure would take place. A group leader was selected once every first of May in a, what Josie assumed anyway, was a well-mannered, structured debate that ended in a secret vote. The vote was apparently drawn from the Original Tote—a stitched Kelly green bag with thick leather straps and a rough, almost burlap surface. From the picture on the pamphlet it appeared to be a heinously ugly thing.
Josie learned that Martha Golding had been elected the group's leader for the previous seven years by a unanimous vote. The monthly meetings were held at her one-story cape near the state forest in North Reading. It was a tree-lined street that Josie assumed blossomed with cherry trees in the spring that dripped their faint pink blooms over the sidewalks and front lawns. For now, though, their reaching arms were bare, the road littered with a scattering of orange and brown leaves, the lawns of Martha's street ravaged by the summer's dying heat and fall's early frosts. Still, it held the sort of preened appearance of perfection that Josie had never managed to achieve in her life. She slowed the hulking length of her car down as she approached the house. The driveway was already crowded with the cars of the other women, chatting outside in their fall jackets.
The Buick screeched to a stop by the curb and Josie winced at the sound. The women in the driveway turned in her direction, seeming to appraise her nearly ten-year-old car with its rusting hood, and mud-flaked doors. They were all dressed in need, floral patterned or checkered dresses that brushed against their calves in the autumn air.
They were also each carrying something in their hands and Josie had the sinking realization that she hadn't brought anything along with her.
"Shit," she whispered into the empty air of the car. She couldn't back out now, not after they had all seen her—she'd have to suck it up. Without thinking on it any longer she snatched her plain black purse from the passenger side floor and slung it around her shoulder. She had yet to get in the door and she was already under-dressed, under-prepared and entirely out of place.
She was regretting the entire affair already.
The Green Tote Bag Ladies Society was something her son, Mark, had suggested a month or so earlier. He told her that she needed to make friends and that it would be "good for her." He said he had seen the women out in the city at a coffee shop near his company's corporate office. They were fawning over the chalkboard behind the baristas' heads, asking dozens of questions about what type of coffee they should order, laughing like school girls and buying more baked goods than any of them seemed capable of actually eating. Mark didn't make it to the city often—he worked and lived nearly four hours south, in the southernmost tip of Connecticut, practically New Jersey. He wouldn't have thought much about the group of gray-haired, chatty ladies if it hadn't been for the massive green purses each woman had.
"Ma, they looked like they were having a good time," he told her. "I asked a woman near me if they were a club and she laughed and told me all about them. More than I needed to know really." Josie could hear the sounds of the kitchen on the other end of the phone, Mark banging a spoon against a pan, the sound of running water from the sink. "Anyway, I told them you'd be interested."
Josie felt a flush of panic she couldn't entirely explain rush through her chest. "What did you do that for, Mark?" she hated how her voice sounded.
"It'll be fun, Ma. You don't do anything. You said you got that stu—" he seemed to catch himself, "—that dog because you'd actually go out to the park and get out again, but you don't."
As if to emphasize the point Ronald, her adopted, speckle-coated mutt of a dog rolled onto his back in the center of the living room. He slept near twenty-two hours a day.
"Ronnie doesn't like the park," Josie said defensively.
Mark audibly sighed on the other end of the line. "Look do this for me, will you? If you really hate it then that's fine but at least give it a shot. When I saw those ladies out having a good time it made me think of you. I think you'll like it."
The conversation had ended there. Within two weeks a pale blue envelope appeared in her mailbox cordially inviting her to their monthly meeting. When she called Mark to tell him about it she did her best to keep any hint of excitement out of her voice.
She didn't want him to know that she had actually, sort of, begun looking forward to it.
Martha Golding's living room was a careful arrangement of a plush, velvet couch, flanking matching armchairs, and a high winged-back love seat. Hand-stitched pillows lined with petite golden tassels were effortlessly fluffed and placed upon the seats just-so.
Josie could feel a dampness run across the surface of her palms and heat rise into her neck the moment she stepped into the threshold. Her black loafers were scuffed at the toes, her slacks just a tad too short, leaving her ankles naked aside from the worn layer of flesh-toned stockings she had dug out of a drawer that morning—they felt incredibly out of place upon the plush, soft pink carpet beneath them. A carpet that had been painstakingly vacuumed into perfect alternating rows like that of a baseball infield.
"Oh!" exclaimed Martha. She was the image of a perfect hostess, gently laying a tray of prepared iced teas on the ornately carved coffee table in the center of the living room. "Welcome ladies, welcome! Come in now, don't be shy."
Josie was shuffled in by the small horde of women behind her. A cloud of stringently sharp perfume engulfed the room—chatter breaking out as triangle finger sandwiches, raw vegetable plates, a fruit salad, and a massive goblet of chocolate pudding were added to the table.
"Wonderful," said one woman with curly blonde hair, so light it was almost white. "What a lovely spread."
"Ladies, bags please!" Martha quipped, pulling out a tall coat rack from behind the front door. A half dozen arms spread from it and one by one, the women in the room hung their over-sized green purses on a hook.
Josie watched, the heat in her neck rising further to her face, blooming out across her cheeks. Were they ever going to acknowledge her? She was incredibly, painfully, obviously green bag-less.
"Lovely," said Martha. "Please have a seat everyone. Eat, eat!"
The love seat was taken almost immediately by two nearly identical looking women (sisters, maybe?) who were groping finger sandwiches with both hands. The couch filled next, and even a rogue ottoman was occupied by more manicured, primped women. Josie found herself standing suddenly alone in the room without a place to sit.
Her mouth had gone dry.
The conversation in the room died down quickly, all eyes beginning to fall on Josie's un-makeuped face.
"Oh! Sorry, dear, forgot all about you there," said Martha, flashing a dull, dentury grin. "No matter, just a second." She hurried from the room and Josie did her best to avoid dying for the time being.
Martha reappeared from the kitchen with a wooden folding chair under one arm. "This'll have to do," she said, creaking the chair open and placing it beside Josie's worn shoes. She sank thankfully into the hard wooden seat, hoping the burning stares of the women around her would turn somewhere else.
Her sweating palms were clasped tightly together in her lap; gnarled fingers twisted painfully together, too painful most mornings to pour even a cup of coffee or turn on the water to run a bath. She was on a strict self-regimen of aspirin, the only thing that seemed to make the days manageable. She did her best to hide her hands in her lap as all eyes in the living room darted between her and Martha.
"So," Martha began, taking a seat in the single armchair, swirling a glass of iced tea as though it were brandy instead, "you're looking to join our Society?"
Josie thought this fact was quite apparent given her presence in the increasingly stuffy living room. "Yes," she said slowly, clearing her phlegm-filled throat. She could practically see Martha wince at the sound. "My son told me about it—he spoke to someone a few weeks ago. I called and requested an invitation."
"You'll have to refresh me on your name, I'm afraid." Martha's dull teeth were clenched in a strained smile that did not reflect in her eyes.
"Josie—Josephine Donahue."
"Donahue," Martha repeated, her eyes trailing down Josie's length, pausing at her worn loafers. "I see. You brought along your invitation, I presume?"
Her heart suddenly pulsed harder, a flush of panic swelling through her limbs. "I—uh—" she stumbled over the words. Her purse was on the floor. She reached to grab it. "I think I have it here." Her hands were trembling as she dug inside—the goddamned thing had better be there.
Relief quelled the quivering in her fingertips as they touched the folded embossed invitation at the bottom of the bag. "Here it is," she said, extending the paper to Martha who took it gingerly as thought it might hot—or covered with something foul.
"Lovely," she said. The room was silent aside from the munching of the other women around her, and the occasional tinkling of ice against glass. Josie did her best to keep her eyes trained downward, studying the clawed feet of the coffee table.
"Well, that's exactly what we needed, Josephine," said Martha, dropping the invitation onto the table. "Please understand that the invitation is to attend one even with the Green Tote Bag Ladies Society of Greater Boston and Southern New Hampshire—the GTBLS for short—after which time a vote will held in order to determine your eligibility as a permanent member."
For Christ's sake… It was like trying to join some sort of cult. A cult of old ladies with ugly pocketbooks loose in Massachusetts. She wanted to say forget it, that her son hadn't told her there was so much involved.
Instead, she felt herself nodding, looking ever like a desperate lonely old woman.
Martha smiled broadly—followed in suit by the other women in the room. "Lovely," she repeated.
George had been dead for two years.
In the beginning every day had felt excruciatingly long—every instant of the day seeming to scream his absence. In the beginning she couldn't sleep without the rhythmic sounds of his breathing beside her (despite how loud it had been, and how much she had hounded him to see a specialist for it). There was no one flipping the channels on the television while they ate dinner on the cough (and, subsequently, no one to holler at for changing the channel so many times).
Doing simple errands without him seemed impossible for nearly a year after. Once they were both retired, they had simply done everything and gone everywhere with one another. Either to keep from dying alone in the house—which, at the time seemed unlikely—or just being plain old bored. They worked on the buddy system. She went to his doctor's appointments; he waited in a chair by the door while she got her hair frosted; she came along to get the oil changed in the Buick every 3,000 miles on the dot. Grocery shopping, pharmacy runs, trips to the bank—every mundane, simple task that they had once done together became a trek she was unwilling to take.
For a long time after, she just refused to leave the house—it was as simple as that. Maybe if she had the opportunity to prepare for widowhood she would have taken it better. In a way, she felt envious of the women who knew their husbands would die for months leading up to the event itself. They got to say the things that needed to be said, make the appropriate arrangements that needed to be made. They'd have the time to realize that they were sixty-seven with only one grown son who lived nearly four hours south with no friends, or relatives nearby to help with the aftermath.
Massive heart attacks happening in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday while watching cable courtroom television did not allow for such planning.
So that was precisely where Josie found herself after George had been pronounced, after the funeral had been arranged, and long after the plastic flowers in the cemetery had been cleared away by the groundskeepers.
Mark came and stayed for a time after. A few days, maybe a week, she couldn't fully remember. It was just after he was married—his second marriage, that was—to a woman named Samantha. Mark helped with the dishes (he insisted on actually hooking up the dishwasher that was in the kitchen, but Josie refused), he had the oil tank filled, cut the grass in the front yard and raked the leaves falling early in the season, he emptied the gutters and hosed down the car in the driveway. He did all of the things George normally would have. Josie had watched, wrapped in a housecoat as he did, unwilling to get herself properly dressed.
He was like his father in a lot of ways, more than he probably would want to admit.
He didn't talk about what had happened. He didn't cry at any of the services, or in the days following. Josie knew it wasn't because he didn't care or didn't feel anything. But like George, Mark was skilled at keeping every one of his emotions buried beneath the surface, digging them deeper over the years. Maybe that was what caused George's heart attack. Decades worth of the things he never wanted to say or feel pressing in on his heart, suffocating his arteries until they could stand it no longer and everything erupted.
A part of her wanted to tell Mark this—to warn him to be like his father in that way, but she never did.
Instead he left the way she knew he would: with a kiss on the cheek, an 'I love you' given before he got into his sleek silver car and drove the four hours or so back home to his new wife. She would figure out the rest.
"How did it go?" Mark asked later that night. Josie had called him, despite herself, to tell him that she had gone to the Society meeting and that she was now obligated to go on a daytrip.
She did her best not to bark out a laugh—something the society ladies would certainly avoid. "It was interesting," she replied. It wasn't entirely a lie.
"Were the women there nice?"
The conversation sounded a lot like the ones Josie had with Mark while he was growing up. When he went to stay-away camp for the first time, or when he joined Little League. Did you have fun? she'd ask. Were the other kids nice to you? She really must have aged.
"They were just lovely," she said, emphasizing the word, picturing Martha Golding as she said it. She could hear the receiver muffle on the other line and Mark muttered something, to Samantha she assumed.
"I'm glad you had a good time, Ma. I hate that you're stuck in that house all day with that dog. It'll do you good to get out and have some new activities."
She mumbled a half-hearted agreement. "Well, I'm still not officially a member. I have to prove myself on their outing tomorrow. Gotta show them that I'm Green Tote Society material."
"Well, like I said before, if it turns out you're not society material than don't go back. At least you're trying it though. Listen, I got to get going though. Sam and I are going out to the movies. Let me know how it goes, okay?" She could hear Samantha ask, What was that all about? before the line went dead.
Josie spent the remainder of the evening trying to put an outfit together, figure out what to do with her overgrown, gray hair and digging through the bathroom cabinets looking for any residual makeup.
In the ensuing silence of the house, after the TV had been turned off, the lights shut out, and Ronald had curled up on his thick dog bed in the corner of the bedroom, Josie resigned herself to play nice. Something Mark had said seemed to repeat itself long after their conversation had ended. If she didn't end up being "society material" then she could leave.
"Why not me?" she asked the darkness of the bedroom. "Why not?"
Ronald rolled over with a groan and fell asleep.
Josie took in her appearance in the only full-length mirror in the house early the next morning. She had woken up nearly three hours before her alarm, wide awake in the early morning, her eyes straining against the pressing darkness of the room.
Ronald refused to get off his—admittedly comfortable looking—doggie bed as she stumbled around the room, turning on the bedside table lights as she did.
She had styled her hair—spraying half an ounce of permanent hold hairspray that had probably been at the bottom of the bathroom drawer for over a decade. Her head could have probably doubled as a helmet. Otherwise, she was quite pleased with the final product. She wore flat shoes (with a hint of a sparkle to them), light blue slacks and a white blouse that she had found tucked away in the back of the closet. She poked diamond studs into her ears and wore an old pearl necklace George had given her for their 35th wedding anniversary. In all, she was impressed.
She was the first to arrive in Martha's driveway later that morning, stopping at the donut shop just before and picking up nearly two gallons of black coffee. She stuffed a brown bag with different flavored creamers, every assortment of sugar (including the brightly colors packets that were decidedly not sugar), stirrers, coffee cups and a fistful of napkins. As she hauled the coffee out from the passenger side seat, the other woman began to arrive in droves behind her. From their expressions they seemed pleasantly surprised with her appearance—or maybe just the coffee.
Either way, Josie was chalking it up as her first victory with the society ladies.
After going over an extensive itinerary with Martha the women had piled into just a few vehicles and driven the forty minutes south west toward their destination. Martha had been thoughtful enough to print one for each woman (Josie had finally gotten a head count, there were twelve of them, herself included) and so she filled the majority of the ride re-reading what was outlined for their day. It was detailed down to the hour: 8:30AM Leave House, 9:15AM arrive at trolley station, 10:30AM brunch—going on for nearly a full page. According to Martha's handout they should be arriving (promptly) back in her driveway by 3PM that afternoon.
In no way did she expect to learn each woman's name on the outing, but she had pulled a pen from the depths of her purse and began jotting down the names she gathered with a tag beside it to help her remember. By the time they were in the parking lot for the trolley she had a list of the other four women jammed into the car. Beth had the bleach blonde hair and the turtle shell glasses. Sarah had a high-pitched rattling laugh that filled the cabin of the car countless times on the ride down, and tufty, mousy brown hair. Marjorie sat to Josie's left and constantly rolled the window down complaining of hot flashes even though she appeared to be closer to seventy and past the age where hot flashes were an acceptable excuse for profuse sweating. Edith was on her right and had shoulder-length silvered hair and bright red lips and rouge smudged onto her wrinkled cheeks.
Josie repeated the names again in her head, knowing without a doubt that they would slip from her memory as soon as they exited the car.
"What lovely weather today!" said Beth shutting the car door behind her. "We lucked out today, I guess."
Josie was shuffled out from the back seat and joined the nodding and agreeing sentiments the other women gave. It was a decent day for the trip. The sky overhead was a clear blue and the sun had already rid the ground of the light frost that had clung to it early on.
"Right on time," Martha said with an obvious air of pride. Her itinerary was already dead on.
After purchasing tickets at the front kiosk, the women piled into the trolley cars, pulling various supplies from their massive green bags. They were the only group on the trolley, being what appeared to be the first ride of the morning. The conductor (if he could be called that) still had a sleepy look on his face and a rough grating edge to his voice as he spoke over the microphone. "Good morning ladies," he said with what he must have thought was a charming grin, "and welcome aboard."
Josie could hear Sarah's squeal of a laugh from the front of the trolley, obviously smitten with their host.
"We're so glad you've decided to join the Guided Trolley Tour of the Old Colony Mill today. Our trip should be about forty minutes through town, so sit back and enjoy the sights."
The guide began delving right into what was obviously a rehearsed speech about the town—going into great detail about the history of the surrounding area, and who had founded what important landmarks. He pointed out old, paint peeled buildings; statues at what must have been the center of town; giving useless facts about politicians and revolutionary icons that Josie hadn't heard of since grade school.
Martha was entirely wrapped up with their tour guide, asking questions as they went, seeming to throw him off his routine. "Now what is that there?" she interjected at one point, indicating a covered bridge by a passing lake.
"That's uh," he faltered, "that's actually a more recent addition. Not really part of the history of the town, I'm afraid."
"Fascinating," mumbled one of the women near Josie, snapping a picture of the bridge anyway. "What a beautiful town this is."
Marjorie sat beside Josie and had taken the window seat, her bag between them like a small child. Josie had been doing her best to smile at all the right times, to chuckle at the tour guide's (not really all that funny) jokes and to look downright cheery when Martha caught her eye.
"Do you have any children?" Marjorie asked suddenly, her eyes peeling away from the sights out the large, open window.
Josie cleared her throat. "Yes, one. A son, Mark. How about you?"
Marjorie smiled, though it seemed slightly strained. "Nine," she laughed, "we were raised Irish Catholic." She shrugged. "Three boys, six girls. Though now it's two boys and six girls."
Josie didn't get the chance to offer any real condolences before the trolley came to a halt on the outskirts of the town and their guide began rattling off more facts. "You young ladies have been a joy," he said, his voice and expression seeming to have livened up quite a bit since their departure. "Please enjoy your walk through the town square, and please stop at the Old Mill Shop for some brunch. I'll be here to continue our tour which will, of course, end with a walk through the still functioning Mill itself."
Marjorie stood, shouldered her seemingly heavy purse and gave Josie a tight smile. "Let's get going. Hope you like mimosas." She winked.
The Green Tote Bag Ladies Society needed four tables and a dozen chairs for brunch. Their waitress, a girl who looked barely over the age of 15, did her best to jot down their complicated, lengthy order, nodding all the while. It took three servers four trips back and forth to drop off mimosas, juice, waters, coffee, tea, omelets, fruit, bacon, toast, jams—so many things that Josie actually lost track. She let her plate be piled with new food three separate times, drinking down two mimosas with ease. Bubbly and tart, the drinks were smooth and the best thing she'd had to drink in a very long time.
As brunch went on the women seemed to get louder with their conversation, laughing so loud other customers seemed to be watching them with bemused expressions.
"—a donkey, can you imagine?" wailed one of the women at the other end of the table, following immediately by raucous laughter. Even Martha let out an un-ladylike snort into her glass.
"So Josephine, Marjorie says you have a son?" asked a curly haired brunette across the table. "Does he live nearby?"
Josie shook her head, replacing her fork on the table. Her stomach felt bloated against her waistband, her head buzzing just a little from the effect of the champagne. "Connecticut," she said. "It's quite a drive, actually."
The woman pouted her lips. "What a shame," she said. "Any grandchildren?"
"Not yet. He's just turned thirty-seven. Married a," she wanted to say lovely, but she didn't, "great girl just a few years ago. His second marriage, unfortunately." She wasn't entirely aware that most of the attention at the table had shifted to her. She might have been more interesting than she thought. "I'm not sure the girl wants children, to be honest."
Marjorie's eyebrows raised, as did several other surrounding women. "No? No children, huh? What a novel idea." She winked down the table which garnered a few chuckles.
"Give them time," said the curly-haired woman with a grin. Josie couldn't remember her name—she hadn't made it to her cheat sheet yet. "I have six grandchildren at this point. Love them all, of course," she said, "but they are a handful. Grandma is the built-in babysitter you know. I'd take a dog instead some days!" Some of the women laughed, others called her fresh. "At least you can leave them in a crate when you go on errands."
"You can do that with your grandchildren too, you just can't get caught!"
More laughter. "You two are bad!" said Martha, her round face flushed.
"I just got a dog," said Josie sheepishly. Some of the woman cooed at this newly revealed fact. "Well about a year ago. He's a mix, not sure what he is really. Came with the name Ronald."
"Ronald!" exclaimed Marjorie. "That's Sarah's husband's name!" Another round of laughter rippled across the table and someone else made a joke about her ex-husband being a dog too.
Josie found herself laughing a good part of the afternoon—long after they had left the Old Mill Shop and long after the warmth of the mimosas had left their limbs and long after the trolley dropped them back off into the parking lot and they began the drive home. They had finished the day with a tour through the Old Mill which had remained basically untouched since 1863. Martha had flirted (or at least what she must have considered flirting) with the mill director into allowing them to tour the strictly off limits upper level of the mill. It turned out to not be much more than a dusty attic-like space used to store the old mill equipment that needed repairs, and cleaning supplies. There had been, of course, many lovely's given at this.
She had complimented many of the ladies on their clothes and their manicures. They all shouldered their massive green tote bags around for the afternoon while Josie carried her plain black faux-leather one, feeling ever more like the odd man out. For the first time since she had received her initial invitation in the mail, a part of her felt a twinge of jealousy about the big obnoxious tote bags. She wanted one, she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't. This was the first time she'd been out of the house for any real extended period of time since George died—the first time in an even longer time that she'd been out with a group of women her age.
Mark's words about her not being "society material" had settled into the pit of her stomach somewhere along the drive back to Martha's home. She had actually forgotten about the vote for a good part of the day, feeling already like she was a member, a society lady herself. Why couldn't she part of the group? Why couldn't she make finger sandwiches and talk about reality television? The thought that this could in fact be her last outing with these women made her quite sad. More than sad really—she felt a wave of anxiety wash through her chest at the idea of sitting home along later that night with no future plans.
"So glad you decided to join us today, Josephine," said Martha once they were gathered again in her pink and floral living room. She took her usual seat in the high winged-back chair like some sort of monarch. "I hope you had fun."
Josie could feel the eleven sets of eyes in the room fall on her. "I did," she replied, taking a small sip of her iced tea. "Glad it was such a nice day for it."
The other ladies nodded in agreement.
"Formalities are formalities, I'm afraid Josephine," said Martha turning and grabbing the Original Tote from behind her chair. "We'll have to convene for just a moment to discuss everything, and then each woman will drop her vote into the bag." She shook the bag as if for dramatic effect. "If you don't mind stepping outside for just a few minutes—I'll come and fetch you when the voting is over, and we'll tally them here." She smiled and nodded toward the door.
If Josie still smoked, it would have been the perfect time to light up. She pulled her navy blue coat around her waist a little tighter, a chill creeping into the afternoon air.
She wondered what they were saying about her—whether or not they had liked her. They were probably discussing what she wore and the jokes she told. They were probably criticizing the fact that she didn't bring even a fruit plate to her first meeting.
Then again, they could have found her charming. They might have liked her hair and outfit—and not just said friendly things to make her feel better. She might have had a shot at this thing after all.
Less than five minutes later Martha returned to the door and ushered Josie back inside. "All set, dear," she said. "Take a seat and we'll just count these up."
The other ladies were smiling politely towards her, sipping their drinks and munching lightly on the assorted snacks left out on the coffee table as Martha began to unfold and tally the votes from inside the bag.
It might have been the anxiety—the feeling that she actually might not be voted in, the idea that she'd have to say her goodbyes, force her thank you's before shuffling out of the door to end the night at home alone—that made her want to shout. That made her want to tell the women in the room to cut the act—to quit pretending that they were some sort of exclusive, high society group.
To have them face the truth—that they, like her, were lonely old women aging faster than they wanted to admit. With grown children who didn't call as much as they'd like, with grandchildren they didn't see enough of (or in Josie's case, didn't exist), with husbands that were dead, or as good as—the type that plopped themselves in front of the television with nothing left to say—the ones who slept in separate beds in separate bedrooms. With sisters and brothers long dead, or moved away. Some in nursing homes with none of their shared childhood memories left.
With aged, creaking joints and bones, sagging faces and skin that bore no resemblance to the women they had once been.
They should admit that this was the truth. But they wouldn't, and neither would she.
And maybe, in the end, they'd be happier because of it.
fiction, self publish, short stories, short story, stories, story, write, writer, writing
Nicola Cataldo on Society Ladies
Meg McCarthy on Society Ladies


text:
Idiotephria nakatomii is een vlinder uit de familie van de spanners (Geometridae). De wetenschappelijke naam van de soort is voor het eerst geldig gepubliceerd in 1978 door Inoue.

nakatomii

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


text:
Q: $\mathcal{C}$ is the zero locus of polynomials which vanish at $p_1,\dots,p_7$ I have to prove that the twisted cubic $\mathcal{C}$ is the common zero locus of quadratic polynomials which vanish in $\{p_1,\dots,p_7\}$, where $p_i \in \mathcal{C}, \forall i=1,\dots,7$.
I saw this answer Why 7 points on a twisted cubic is enough to fix a quadratic?, but I can't understand the last part, where it says " $Q_1 \cap Q_2 \cap Q_3 = \mathcal{C}$, because $Q_3 \cap L \subset \mathcal{C}$ ".
How can I prove that $Q_3 \cap L \subset \mathcal{C}$? And how can I conclude from this that $\mathcal{C} \supset $ {common locus of quadratic polynomials which vanish in $\{p_1,\dots,p_7\}$}?
Can anyone help me?
Thank you in advance

A: $\newcommand{\PSP}{\mathbb{P}}$
$\newcommand{\Ohol}{\mathcal{O}}$
$\newcommand{\ideal}[1]{\mathfrak{#1}}$
All projective spaces and varieties shall be over an (algebraically closed) field $k$.
Let $\nu:\PSP^1 \to \PSP^3$ be the 3-tuple embedding (Veronese embedding of degree 3) and
$C = \nu(\PSP^1)$ be its image, the twisted cubic curve in $\PSP^3$.
Let $\Gamma = H^0(\PSP^3, \Ohol_{\PSP^3}(2))$ be the 10-dimensional vector-space
of quadrics in $\PSP^3$.
We first prove, that seven pairwise
different points $P_1,\ldots,P_7 \in C$ give seven independent restrictions
on the space $\Gamma$ leaving a kernel $\Gamma_3 \subseteq \Gamma$ of vector-space-dimension
3:
Let $P_i = \nu(S_i)$ for seven different points $S_i \in \PSP^1$. Then $P_1,\ldots,P_s$
give independent conditions on $\Gamma$ iff $\phi(P_i) = \phi(\nu(S_i))$ correspond to
linear independent vectors in (the affine cone associated to) $\PSP^9$, where $\phi:\PSP^3 \to \PSP^9$ is the 2-tuple embedding
(Veronese embedding of degree 2).
If all $S_i = (1: t_i)$ lie in one affine chart, which is always possible, we simply note,
that the coordinates $(x_0:\ldots:x_9)$ of $\PSP^9$ contain the elements $1,t_i,t_i^2,\ldots,t_i^6$
for $T_i = \phi(\nu(S_i))$. By the non-vanishing of the Vandermonde-matrix-determinant we conclude,
that for $t_1,\ldots,t_7$, all pairwise different, the points $T_1,\ldots,T_7$ impose seven
independent vanishing conditions for linear forms in $\PSP^9$ and therefore $P_1,\ldots,P_7$
seven independent vanishing conditions on the space $\Gamma$ of quadrics on $\PSP^3$.
So we get our space $\Gamma_3$ above of quadrics vanishing on seven points of $C$. By Bezout's theorem
a $Q \in \Gamma$ intersects either $C$ in 6 points or contains it in full. So all quadrics
$Q \in \Gamma_3$ contain $C$.
Two linear independent $Q_1, Q_2 \in \Gamma_3$ intersect in $C \cup L$ with $L$ a line in $\PSP^3$,
because $\deg(Q_1 \cap Q_2) = 2 \cdot 2 = \deg C + \deg L$. Both $C$ and $L$ occur with multiplicity $1$.
This follows from Bezout's theorem (in the form stated for example in Hartshorne's Chapter I).
Intersecting $Q_1 \cap Q_2$ with a third, linear independent, $Q_3 \in \Gamma_3$ gives a priori
$C$ and a part of $L$. If this part is the whole of $L$, then $Q_3$ vanishes on $C \cup L$, which
has as ideal the intersection $\ideal{p}_C \cap \ideal{p}_L = (Q_1,Q_2)$ (the equality follows because $(Q_1,Q_2)$ has no embedded primary components). So we get
$Q_3 \in (Q_1,Q_2)$ which (by homogeneity) leads to $Q_3 \in k Q_1 + k Q_2$, so $Q_3$ would be
linear dependent on $Q_1,Q_2$ contrary to the assumption.
So we have either $Q_1 \cap Q_2 \cap Q_3 = C$ or it might (seemingly) happen, that $Q_1 \cap Q_2 \cap Q_3 =
(C \cup L) \cap Q_3 = C \cup P$ with a point $P \in L$.
The case, that $Q_3$ intersects $L$ in two points $P'$ and $P''$ not in $C$ would lead to $Q_1 \cap Q_2 \cap Q_3 = C \cup L$. This is because then $Q_1 \cap Q_3 = C \cup L(13)$ with $L(13)$ containing $P'$ and $P''$ and therefore identical to $L$. So we had $L(13) = L(23) = L$ and indeed $Q_1 \cap Q_2 \cap Q_3 = C \cup L$.
Now consider the map $\theta:\PSP^3-C-W \to \PSP^2$ given by $(Q_1:Q_2:Q_3)$, where $C \cup W$ is
the common vanishing set of $Q_1,Q_2,Q_3$ which is, by the above, either $C$ or $C \cup P$.
The fiber $\theta^{-1}(p)$ for a point $p \in \PSP^2$ is the intersection of two linear
independent quadrics from $\Gamma_3$ and therefore of the form $C \cup L$ as seen above.
So we have a map $\PSP^2 \to G(1,\PSP^3)$ with $p \mapsto L(p)$ where $G(1,\PSP^3)$ is the space of lines in $\PSP^3$.
Let us assume, that not all lines $L(p)$ contain a single point $P_0 \in \PSP^3$. Then we have
three points $p_1,p_2,p_3 \in \PSP^2$ such that $\theta^{-1}(p_1) \cap \theta^{-1}(p_2)$ meet
at most in $P_{01}$ and $\theta^{-1}(p_1) \cap \theta^{-1}(p_3)$ meet at most in $P_{02} \neq P_{01}$.
So $\theta^{-1}(p_1) \cap \theta^{-1}(p_2) \cap \theta^{-1}(p_3)$ are empty. The intersection
$\bigcap_{j=1}^3 \theta^{-1}(p_j)$ is equivalent to the intersection of $Q_1 \cap Q_2 \cap Q_3$
which is thereby proven to be equal to $C$.
Now remains the case, where there is a point $P_0 \in \PSP^3$ for which the lines in
$\theta^{-1}(p)$ form a full pencil, each line $L(p)$ containing $P_0$ and two lines $L(p_1), L(p_2)$ always
meeting in $P_0$.
But this would mean, that $\theta:\PSP^3-C-P_0 \to \PSP_2$ is on $U = \PSP^3-C-P_0$ identical
with the projection from $P_0$ to $\PSP^2$ given by three linear independent linear forms
$$l_1,l_2,l_3 \in H^0(\PSP^3,\Ohol_{\PSP^3}(1)).$$
So we had that the $2 x 2$-minors of
$
\begin{pmatrix}
Q_1 & Q_2 & Q_3 \\\\ l_1 & l_2 & l_3
\end{pmatrix}
$
vanish on the affine cone over $\PSP^3$ and therefore, there is a linear form $l$, such that
$Q_i = l \cdot l_i$. This is obviously impossible, as it would imply, that $C$ lies in the union of
two planes in $\PSP^3$.
So we have excluded the case that $Q_1 \cap Q_2 \cap Q_3$ contains beside $C$ an extra point $P$. Note, that this would also easily follow from  excess intersection theory, see Proposition 13.2 in "3264 and all that" by Eisenbud and Harris.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


The film adaptation Jack Reacher is guilty of a lot of crimes, but perhaps its largest is that of bad timing. This thriller looses the mystery of a mass shooting in which five innocent victims wind up the target of a deranged assassin one fateful morning. How this eerie resemblance to real life of late hasn't blown up bigger in reaction to the film boggles the cortex.
The noggin belongs to superstar Tom Cruise, whose career has bounced around the building blocks for the last eight years. They love him. They hate him. They tolerate him. They love him again. They hate him again. Luckily none of that matters as Cruise has always brought 100 percent to his work—even made-for-cable thrills such as Jack Reacher, which gloriously miscasts Cruise, drives through cliches with a snowplow, runs about twenty minutes too long, and somehow manages to still reward audiences with plenty of bang for their buck.
Even though Cruise would be considered pint-sized against author Lee Child's hulking intimidator from his Reacher novel series, the actor still brings charisma and believability (as far as any believability can go in this film) to the part. Did I believe he could lay waste to five perps bare-handed and single-handedly? Absolutely. Do I think he can take a baseball bat to the back of the skull and still maneuver? Hmmm.
But let's be honest here—Cruise blows up any action movie he touches in a good way, even when he doesn't belong. Jack Reacher is a prime fit for him if we didn't already know this was a franchise originally intended for a Dwayne Johnson-type. Once audiences get past that glare, they can settle into a grimy thriller from writer-director Christopher McQuarrie, a frequent collaborator with Director Bryan Singer (The Usual Suspects, Valkyrie) and now of course Cruise (the upcoming All You Need is Kill and Mission Impossible 5).
McQuarrie lets Reacher settle in a placid violence. The action often results in painfully brutal imagery. The shooting. The fisticuffs. Then there's the menace of his villains, Jai Courtney (the actual shooter) and the brilliant insanity of filmmaker Werner Herzog who steps in front of the camera as the maniacal, foggy-eyed embodiment of evil referred to as the Zec. The performances throughout the film range from fair, to good, to wild. It's actually all quite fascinating. Then McQuarrie underscores the events with unmistakable dread. Somehow his movie escaped with a PG-13 rating probably because there's little blood. But the violence is blunt, brutal and lingering. Think Taken and Bourne on a depressant, in which the action doesn't cut and jump around to a head-spin. Instead McQuarrie let's the moments of violence build and linger.
This is where the writer-director somehow blends the formulaic proceedings of the plot with the odd dose of casting and mixes in his bitter penchant for the deep-rooted cold, making Jack Reacher an unexpected kick to the gut. Is Reacher, the enforcer, a hero? The question is never exactly answered, but I'm guessing as a potential franchise for Cruise, the powers that be will think so.


The average life expectancy of a cat is between 12-18 years. But with today's technological advancements in veterinary medicine, your furry friend just might live into her 20s. Generally, cats between the age of 11-14 are considered senior. At East Valley Animal Hospital in Gilbert, AZ, we offer the highest quality of care for pets at every stage of life. And we know that, depending on their level of health, caring for elderly cats requires a little more effort and attention.
Along with the aging process of your cat, there are a number of behavioral changes that are normal and do not necessarily indicate a more significant underlying issue.
If your cat has been part of your family from the time she was a kitten, you know her behavior quite well. However, even a subtle change in her behavior may indicate illness or disease. Keep a close eye on these behaviors and consult one of our skilled vets at East Valley Animal Hospital if you notice any concerning changes in your elderly cat.
Make sure food, water and litter box are easily accessible. As your cat ages her joint function will limit her mobility and ability to jump. If you used boxes with high sides in Fluffy's younger years, consider getting a box with shorter sides in her older years. And if you have a multi-story house, provide litter boxes on each level.
The claws of an aging feline become thick and brittle and may require more frequent clipping.
Loss of vision and hearing is a natural part of aging. If your cat has lost much of her hearing or vision, remember to approach slowly and with care in an effort not to startle her.
As your cat begins to groom herself less, you might need to step in and gently groom her to keep her fur from matting and creating inflammation or skin issues.
Exercise and activity are still important for the health of older cats. Engage your cat in moderate play to keep her activity levels up.
If your cat has a favorite spot to lounge (such as a windowsill) that becomes inaccessible due to the aging process, consider getting a ramp or steps that allow them to access their happy place.
Provide your cat with a healthy and nutritious diet. Consult your vet if you are unsure of your aging cat's necessary caloric intake.
If your cat maintains good health as she ages, her older years can still be enjoyable for both you and her. Educating yourself on the unique needs of older cats will better prepare you to be of help in her later stages of life. And as needed, our compassionate vets at East Valley Animal Hospital are here for you and your precious companion, to help make the aging process a positive experience for you, your cat, and your household.


This morning the Government of Alberta alongside the City of Fort Saskatchewan announced their contributions towards creating safe, affordable housing in the City of Fort Saskatchewan.
"There is a long-standing need for affordable housing within this sub-region, and especially in the community of Fort Saskatchewan. This funding from the Alberta Government, as well as the generous gift of land from the City of Fort Saskatchewan, are important first steps towards meeting that need. I am excited to see what we will be able to accomplish as we work together to serve this community."


The latest issue of "China Automotive Industry Newsletter," the first half of 2015, car sales remained at about 12 million according to the China Association of Automobile Manufacturers. Specific sales figures were 1209.50 and 11,850,300, an increase of 2.6% and 1.4%, respectively, compared with the increase of 8% to 9% increase over last year has been quite different. Among them, the passenger car sales were 10,327,800 and 10,095,600, an increase of 6.4% and 4.8%, respectively; commercial vehicle sales were 1.7672 million and 1.7547 million, down 14.9% and 14.4%, respectively. Commercial vehicles in the first half-year up more than 14% decline in June passenger car production and marketing chain, double down year on year to become the main cause of a significant slowdown in market growth.
Vehicle engine market, in June 2015, included in the statistics of the 64 vehicle engine production, engine sales were 1,677,000 sets and 1,705,000 units, compared with May 5.58% MoM decrease and 4.18% respectively, and in 2014 Compared to the same period in June, vehicle engine market is still basically maintained a balance situation, a slight increase of 1.56% of production, sales declined slightly 1.21%. Although the month of June production and sales declined, but sales were more than 1.65 million units, the huge size of the market makes the vehicle engine market is difficult to have a big decline. On 1 to June total, the vehicle engine sales were 10,933,700 and 10,952,500 sets, an increase of 2.88% and 2.02%, respectively, an increase of the overall auto market with sales growth of convergence, vehicle engine market has entered into a slight increase or said the new micro-normal growth.
On the production of statistics, the first half of 2015, a total of 64 vehicle engine companies, SAIC-GM-Wuling, FAW - Volkswagen, Shanghai Volkswagen Powertrain, Chongqing Changan, Dongfeng Nissan passenger cars, Shanghai GM Dong Yue Automotive Powertrain, Great Wall Motor, Dongfeng Peugeot Citroen, Beijing Hyundai, Ford, Shenyang Aerospace Mitsubishi, Chery, Dongfeng Honda Engine, Shanghai GM and Liuzhou Wuling Liu machine, the highest cumulative production volume ordered before 15. Compared with the previous year, has not before 15 a pure diesel engine business, the boss and the second place has come to a swap, Chongqing Changan, Dongfeng Nissan passenger cars, Great Wall Motor, Ford, Chery Automobile, which are The progress of Shanghai GM Dong Yue Automotive Powertrain, Beijing Hyundai, Dongfeng Peugeot Citroen Automobile decline. Overall, the statistical unit to six months before the 15 list, in the past there has never been a diesel engine businesses do not have the situation, which also can imagine the commercial vehicle market was weak and difficult to return to reality.
From the production scale, the first half of 2015, the average monthly production capacity of more than 10,000 the number of enterprises is 44, an increase of two over the previous year; the average monthly production capacity of 20,000 units more than the number of enterprises have 31, and unchanged from the same period last year; the average monthly production capacity of more than 30,000 the number of enterprises have 23, an increase over the previous year; the average monthly production capacity of 40,000 sets of the number of enterprises have more than 14, less than in the previous year 1; the average monthly production capacity of more than 50,000 the number of enterprises have 10, an increase of two over the previous year. From this observation several sets of data, the surface is very plain, but leading companies remained relatively concentrated, the other was mostly proliferation trend, the overall market was slightly increasing production scale features a wide range of features also lost the state of ups and downs.
Production concentration aspect, the production concentration before production of five companies was 30.98 percent, 1.69 percentage points to reduce this value over the previous year; production concentration of the top 12 companies was 53.23%, this value over the previous year 0.44 percentage point reduction. As it can be seen in the overall market in the period of consolidation, before five or top 12 companies ranked mutual lifting production and sales, but production concentration have appeared slightly divergent features, advantages companies are not accounted for in this round of competition in the market how much the initiative, the market showed a more uncertain nature.
Car aspect diesel, June 2015 month, into the statistics of 21 diesel engine business were completed 175,100 sets and 194,700 sets of production and sales, a decline of 14.72 percent and 11.15 percent, respectively, year on year decline 4.07% and 7.43% respectively, but Single mom and yoy decline has narrowed. Compared with a year earlier, in June monthly diesel market ushered in a more dismal in bleak in January. Diesel cumulative production in the first half sales were 1.4017 million sets and 1.4118 million units, up sharply down 21.72% and 21.71% respectively. Specifically, the diesel engine business in the first half of the average monthly production of more than 10,000 Taiwan companies only seven, decrease 2 over the previous year. This was a decrease of 3 consecutive Interim diesel engine manufacturing enterprises this indicator, indicating the diesel market as a whole is still hovering in the valley and still did not stop the pace of decline. If you are still in accordance with conventional diesel engines before 12 production enterprises sort, then this sequence is: QuanChai Anhui, Guangxi Yuchai, FAW Group, Jiangling Holding, Foton, Weichai Holding Group, Yunnei, Dongfeng Automobile Co. Shandong Huayuan Levin dynamic, China National Heavy Duty Truck, Great Wall Automobile and Jianghuai Automobile. Compared with a year earlier, a more obvious change is in the contest of light and medium-sized diesel engines in heavy-duty diesel engines, the former almost completely prevailed, also from the long-dominant leader in Guangxi Yuchai replaced all diesel Anhui. Of course, all diesel Anhui ranked first, not by its own growth, but by other companies to reduce more and return. In addition to the Dongfeng Chaoyang Diesel dropped out of the top 12 outside the top 12 list is basically to maintain the original pattern of JAC to this ranking among progressive.
In the diesel engine business in the first half of March this year the average monthly production of large (more than 5,000) of 10 (previous year the figure was 15) YoY growth companies continues to grow there are only two light diesel engine business, are Foton (31.54%) and Jiangling Holdings (0.60%), other companies are negative growth trend. Which slumped more than 20 percent of enterprises are: Weichai Holding Group (-56.53%), FAW Group (-33.67%), Shandong Huayuan Levin dynamic (-21.65%) and Guangxi Yuchai (-21.06%) ʱ?? Previous 12 outside companies, a total of more than 20% year on year decline there Dongfeng Chaoyang Diesel, a new morning in Mianyang Power, Shanghai Hino, Dongfeng commercial vehicle and Chengdu hair.
Vehicle Gasoline Engine aspect, June month, into the statistics of 47 gasoline companies were completed production and sales of 1.4995 million sets and 1.5079 million units, a decline of 4.40% and 3.22%, respectively, year on year increased by 2.43 percent and fell 0.23 percent; gasoline engine first half of the cumulative production and sales were 9.5184 million sets and 9.5271 million units, an increase of 8.04% and 6.98% respectively. While sales in a month in June mom and an essential element of the double down, but gasoline cumulative production still maintained a positive growth of more than 5%, but also support overall vehicle engine market will not weaken.


Airbus is undertaking the final tests of its Perlan 2 glider, an engineless aircraft that it hopes to fly close to the edge of space later in the year.
The pressurised sailplane is designed to ride air currents, and over certain mountainous regions near the Earth's poles these currents should be able to take the glider into the stratosphere. Staffed entirely by volunteers, the non-profit Perlan Project is aiming to fly higher than any other winged aircraft has operated in level, controlled flight.
Perlan 2 had its first test flight back in September 2015 in Oregon. The latest testing, carried out from Minden-Tahoe Airport in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, saw Airbus Group CEO and aviation enthusiast Tom Enders taking control of the aircraft.
Airbus Group CEO Tom Enders (right) with Perlan Project chief pilot Jim Payne.
After completing the final tests, the Perlan Mission II team will relocate its operations to Patagonia in Argentina in the coming months. There, conditions should allow the team to begin higher-altitude flights that will ultimately take the aircraft as high as 90,000 feet. Air density at this altitude is less than two per cent of that at sea level, meaning the engineless Perlan 2 will still be able to reach speeds of more than 400mph. Pilots will be supported by an oxygen rebreather system, similar to that used by astronauts on space missions.
In January, The Engineer spoke to Airbus CTO Jean Botti about the Perlan Mission and other Airbus projects. That interview can be read here.


text:
Q: How to a Hide Download Link I created a protected area in my website, where only registered users can logon to download a restricted application (exe). But they can copy the download link and make it available on internet, so I am trying to find the simplest way to hide the download link (using ASP classic, if possible).
Here is what I got so far: http://forums.aspfree.com/code-bank-54/download-manager-downloading-files-secure-location-classic-asp-65239.html. But when using this download manager, the exe application unexplainably looses its digital signing :(
Please, can anyone give me some ideas? Maybe using PHP or Flash?
Thanks!

A: Here is the solution I found, using ASP classic:
<%
Option Explicit
Response.Buffer = True
If (not Session("Logged")) Then Response.End
Dim objFso
Dim objStream
Dim strFileName
Dim strFilePath
strFileName = "App.exe"
strFilePath = "d:\yoursitefolder\protectedfolder\"
Set objFso = Server.CreateObject("Scripting.FileSystemObject")
If objFso.FileExists(strFilePath & strFileName) Then
  Response.AddHeader "Content-disposition", "filename=" & strFileName
  Response.ContentType = "application/octet-stream"
  Response.AddHeader "Pragma", "no-cache"
  Response.AddHeader "Expires", "0"
  Set objStream = Server.CreateObject("ADODB.Stream")
  objStream.Type = 1
  objStream.Open
  objStream.LoadFromFile strFilePath & strFileName
  Response.BinaryWrite(objStream.Read())
  objStream.Close
  Set objStream = Nothing
End If
Set objFso = Nothing
%>


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mizonokuchi.me 9 out of 10 based on 317 ratings. 1,592 user reviews.
I replaced the part that is under the dash with the green ceramic coating. I did not replace the wiring harness, as no wires were burned.
I spoke to soon. I put the resistor in to fix the ac problem and read a post that someone lost the heater after doing so. I put a DPDT switch in so I could run ac thru the resistor in summer and flip the switch to run thru the original sensor for the winter.


text:
Biden makes appeal to middle class voters as heavyweights take center stage in Democratic presidential debate
By: CNN Wire
Moments into Thursday night's Democratic debate, it was clear that Joe Biden faces a tall task in the months before the Iowa caucuses — proving to Democratic voters that he can fill the mantle of being "progressive enough" as other leaders continue to drag the party further and further to the left.
While Biden burnished those credentials as Barack Obama's vice president, he now stands closer to the center than contenders like Bernie Sanders, along with Elizabeth Warren, who has made an impassioned case for "Medicare-for-All" and doing away with private health insurance — a dramatic policy shift that is unlikely to go over as easily with the moderates and independents that Democrats must win to retake the White House.
As he attempted to project the air of electability that is so important to many Democratic voters, he immediately appealed to the middle-class voters he feels are central to his electoral chances.
"Too many people in the middle class had the bottom fall out. I am saying we have to be straight forward," Biden said. "We have to make sure we understand that we return dignity to the middle class. They have to have insurance that is covered and they can afford it. They have to make sure we have a situation where there is continuing education and they are able to pay for it, and they have to make sure they breathe air that is clean and they have water that they can drink."
It was the first moment for Biden to stand out as the leading Democrats vying to unseat President Donald Trump are taking the debate stage for the first time Thursday night with Joe Biden at center stage, hoping to demonstrate a command of the issues as the elder statesman in the race.
After a feisty and vigorous fight night among the other 10 candidates in Miami Wednesday night , Biden is sharing the stage Thursday, with his closest rival Sen. Bernie Sanders, as well as Sen. Kamala Harris and South Bend, Indiana, Mayor Pete Buttigieg, who have piqued the interest of Democrats looking for a fresh generation of leadership in the White House. It's the first test for the former vice president since he left government in January 2017, and he is aiming to show that he has the kind of message discipline that has been lacking in some of his past debate performances over his lengthy career in politics.
Biden, Sanders, Harris and Buttigieg are onstage with six candidates who have gained far less traction in the polls: New York Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand, Colorado Sen. Michael Bennet, former Colorado Gov. John Hickenlooper, California Rep. Eric Swalwell, entrepreneur Andrew Yang and spiritual author Marianne Williamson who all met the threshold set by the Democratic National Committee.
For months, Biden has been on a glide path as the Democratic front-runner, holding far fewer events than his rivals and engaging in relatively few one-on-one interviews. That's made it easy to avoid the mistakes and gaffes that marred his previous attempt to win the White House, even if he's still stepped on his own feet a few times with his shifting position on federal funds for abortions and his comments about working with segregationist senators.
Those missteps allowed some of Biden's lesser-known competitors to make headlines at his expense. Biden and Sanders could clash onstage tonight, not only because they have major policy differences, but also because the Vermont senator must do something to reverse his decline in the polls as Sen. Elizabeth Warren has ascended.
Biden has topped the polls nationally because most Democratic voters see him as the most viable candidate to take on Trump. But candidates like Harris are looking to show that same kind of mettle.
In recent weeks, the California senator has leaned heavily into her background as a prosecutor to argue that she can prosecute the case against Trump. She will try to show both her policy depth as a progressive and her unique biography taking on an array of foes, from rapists and murderers in the courtroom, to big banks as California's attorney general.
Buttigieg — the mayor of South Bend, who has dazzled some Democrats with his charisma and background as a former Rhodes scholar, who also speaks seven languages and served as a naval intelligence reserve officer in Afghanistan — is looking to regain his footing after a tough week. Buttigieg has eschewed campaigning in recent days while working in his hometown, where the mayor has been trying to soothe racial tensions after a police officer shot and killed a black man .
In the hours before the debate, the candidates were preoccupied with the Supreme Court's decision on gerrymandering — with Chief Justice John Roberts and the four other conservatives arguing that the courts should have no role in deciding partisan gerrymandering controversies from Maryland and North Carolina. Roberts opined that "federal judges have no license to reallocate power between the two majority political parties with no plausible grant of authority in the Constitution, and no legal standards to limit and direct their decisions."
Harris was among the first to tweet about the decision earlier on Thursday: "Politicians shouldn't be able to pick their voters, voters should choose their representatives." She said the court's decision would have "drastic consequences for the future of our nation."
Several of the candidates also weighed in on the court's decision to block the citizenship question on the 2020 census for the time being, after deciding that the administrations argument did not pass muster.
Sanders used the decision to sharply take on the President's motives. "Trump lied about his motivations, and five justices called him on it," the Vermont senator tweeted. "His proposal to add a citizenship question to the census was nothing but a racist attempt to disenfranchise communities of color."

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


This section of the presentation discusses specifications for silica fume and silica-fume concrete. The available standard specifications are presented. Then, the format for specifications for silica-fume concrete and the minimum essential elements for these specifications are described.