text:
Prime Decimals 47.2
by Benjamin Ludwig
They were out picking potatoes in the garden. It was almost noon. The moon was still up. The father stood with a shovel, gently heaving up shovelfuls of soil. As he did this, potatoes and clumps of potatoes fell heavily and abundantly. His little girl, who was only two, picked them up, studying each one, pulling them from the greens before putting the potatoes in a basket. At some point she caught sight of the moon.
She dropped the potato she was holding so that she could point. "Sees the moon," she said. No subject-pronouns. Not yet.
"I see the moon too," the father said. "See the potatoes?" He wanted her to learn about things of the earth, and to love them as he did.
But the girl was still looking at the sky. "Sees the moon," she said again, more excitedly; and then, "Needs to hold it."
The father pushed the shovel into the soil. She was always talking about holding the moon. He wished she would look down instead at all the potatoes spilling at her feet. "The moon is too big for you to hold," he told her. He leaned on the shovel and looked at her. "The moon is too big. I'm sorry, but we can't hold it."
She looked back at him, and he could see that she was thinking. "Just the stars," she said, her chin dropping. "They are tiny."
The father paused, then bent to pick up the potato she had dropped. He didn't say a word because he couldn't bear the thought of pushing her any further than he already had.
Benjamin Ludwig writes and teaches from New Hampshire. He is the recipient of the 2013 Clay Reynolds Novella Prize for his novella, Sourdough, which will be published by Texas Review Press this coming fall.
by Spencer K. M. Brown
Wait. Waiting—it felt like that was all I ever did, just waiting by the open front door, mindlessly puffing a cigarette as she took her time getting ready. I was so impatient, calling her name, asking if she was ready. She would snap back a response that kept me quiet for a few moments. The way she would climb into the passenger seat, the way she would take the cigarette from my hand and curl her soft, puffy lips around it, taking a long drag, always made me forget about waiting. I forgot everything when she was next to me.
Waiting. Sitting on the couch after a few drinks, feeling vulnerable. Feeling loved. I would wait to see what mood she was in. And with a soft graze of my hand along her thigh, she would pull me into a delicate kiss. I could feel her chest as it rose and fell, rose and fell, like waves before a storm, her heart pounding into mine. All the while I was just waiting for it to happen, waiting for her to finally be done with me. Waiting for it all to be over.
Wait: to pause or postpone some action. I sit in the Greyhound station, waiting for the clock to read, 3AM. My eyes continuously close, but I try to stay awake. I hate sleeping in public places. I climb onto the bus and stare numbly out of the hand-printed window. Wondering how long I must wait until I will be happy again.
Waiting—it was the one thing she said she would never do. Not for a day, not for a year. Not for any amount of time that I asked. She said, "A woman worth having doesn't wait." And I suppose she was right.
Spencer K. M. Brown lives in Southern Florida where he is a junior at Ave Maria University. His stories have appeared in Contraries and The Gyrene. In 2013, he published his debut novel, Wolfe.
Warm Milk
by Milton Ehrlich
I was always surprised
how warm milk was
when I milked a herd
of Holstein cows,
and how cold father's
body became as red rivulets froze,
the moment he stopped breathing.
How easy it used to be
to laugh out loud
and stomp my feet
to not pee in my pants,
and how now nothing
seems quite so funny
as I read the obituary
every morning,
making sure I'm not there.
I worry about my insomniac friend
with the wit of Oscar Wilde,
who now roams dark streets
weeping to himself.
I must remind him what it feels
to be human by holding each other.
Milton P. Ehrlich, Ph.D., is an 82-year-old psychologist who has published numerous poems in periodicals such as the Wisconsin Review, Shofar Literary Journal, Christian Science Monitor, Slipstream Magazine, Toronto Quarterly Review, Seventh Quarry: The Swansea Poetry Review, Antigonish Review, Descant Magazine, Huffington Post, and the New York Times.
Communion Wine
Jacinta V. White
I used to be six, sneaking wine from the clear bottle that belonged in the latched box sitting next to me on the back seat of Dad's '77 black Sedan deVille, wondering how it—tasting like old grape juice—healed; how it was going to cleanse the man Dad prayed about just that morning, before the congregation and the Good Lord.
I used to be six, sitting in the back seat of Dad's '77 black Sedan deVille on the way to the house on the hill that sat next to the House of Prayer, wishing I drank something that left a better taste in my mouth, not hot and dry, sticky and bitter, like the outside air. Wondering how the dying man having the same pungent breath as mine was going to cleanse his sins and bring him right with God.
I used to be six, sitting in the back seat of Dad's '77 black Sedan deVille, wondering how these small drops of wine from this tube stuck between black velvet (like a body tucked in a casket) meant something so serious that when we arrived to the man's house, I would have to wait alone outside. Pretend the smell hitting me from the cracked window wasn't something dark and deathlike.
And, after it was all over and we pulled away, silent—Dad's kit sliding closer to me, with each turn, on the leather back seat of that '77 black Sedan deVille—I would quietly pull out the bottle that once held the power potion. My fingers tracing the rim of the miniature cup still wet from the dying man's lips. I believed, right then, to have what I was told he'd received. Eternal Life. I used to be six.
Jacinta V. White is an NC Arts Council Teaching Artist, and has received numerous awards and scholarships toward her creative endeavors. She was the first recipient of the Press 53 Open Award in Poetry. After completing her MPA at Georgia State University, Jacinta founded the Word Project (www.poetryheals.com) – a company dedicated to using poetry toward personal and community healing. Through the Word Project, Jacinta has facilitated numerous workshops and training for organizations including schools and hospitals. Finishing Line Press published Jacinta's first book of poetry, broken ritual, in 2012. Jacinta blogs at 3rdSpaces.com.
Dear Devon
A.A. Singh
followed by Q&A
A few months ago, I watched this movie about a guy who had cancer and a fifty percent chance of survival. I laughed a lot. There's this scene, though, where the main character starts to ask questions about how the anesthetic works—how long he will be out, if he'll accidentally wake up during the surgery, how they know he will even wake up at all. When the doctor explains how it varies from person to person, he lets out a whimper for his mother who grabs him and tells him he is going to be just fine.
And then there I was in your room in the intensive care unit, standing next to you, who, after two weeks of visits from family and friends, two weeks of video games and anime, faced your mortality at age fifteen. I imagined the surgery room—white tiled walls like a bathroom with two huge UFO lights, surgeons huddled over your body in mouthwash colored scrubs. Was Mom allowed to walk you in? Was this how you hugged her, unsure if you would ever feel the warmth of another body again? Did you regret kicking my ass all of those times?
I showed Mom the movie. She was stone-faced during that scene. Hardened. I asked her about the moment before you got that apricot-sized tumor cut out of your brain. I asked her if it reminded her of you. I asked her how this scene did not make her flinch at all. I lived through it, she said with a smirk and her brow raised, brown eyes fixed to mine. I guess it just doesn't compare to the real thing.
Whenever my brain pulses near my temples and I can't think straight, I run to the medicine cabinet for some pain pills and can't help but wonder when I will be tested, when I will have to face my mortality like that fifteen-year-old boy did, his little brother too emotionally immature to understand. I can't help but wonder how genes work, how hereditary illnesses mutate within us, how we are all just ticking time bombs waiting to explode while we worry about work and people and what's in the fridge and whether we have paid our bills on time or not.
In the final couple weeks at the hospital, when they'd moved you out of the ICU and into that ward that looked more like a hotel, the pastel green walls carefully matching the dark rug in the hallways, the windows cascading with sunlight, the absence of beeping heart monitors and life machines, I remember how healthy you seemed before the surgery. How, though we'd moved to a ward that labeled you as not needing intensive care, you were recovering and couldn't get out of bed anymore. How your eight-inch scar down the back of your head was new, how you lacked motor skills, how you could barely open your drowsy, medicated eyes. Mom seemed different, no longer pink and puffy behind her dark turtle colored glasses. She stayed with you in the hospital every single night, until you were in that new ward. When she went home and allowed us to stay with you instead, we knew you'd be okay.
After weeks of makeup work: mindless worksheets about tap water or rounding to the nearest tenths or hundredths, I returned to school. Most of the students never asked any questions or seemed affected. My teacher told me that when I didn't return to class after the diagnosis, my friend looked worried. She never told me how he looked worried, but I imagined his vision getting blurry, his stomach hurting, his hand shaking as he asked to be excused to use the restroom. I imagined his bent back as he splashed water on his face, staring into his glossy eyes in the mirror, his jaw slack. Maybe it reminded him of his own siblings or his own parents. Maybe someone in his family had lost the battle to some sickness. Maybe he didn't need anyone to teach him how to feel; maybe he was born with it.
Years after the surgery, you will be okay—a little neurotic, a little fickle—things we will crack jokes at, trying to diagnose you psychologically, detectives offering solutions like maybe it's the section of his brain they removed. It could be worse. You could have brain damage. You could have an infection, or you could slip into a coma. You will say you forgot all the Spanish you learned. You could lose your speech or balance, even coordination—though you will have to relearn how to walk. And then you will walk like a pro. Run, even. You will be clumsy, but I can't remember if you were before the operation.
One day, you will break skin on the sharp corner of my computer desk, the metal track for the keyboard broken and jutting out, your shin bleeding from the deep cut.
I will know what to do.
I will find some rubbing alcohol to clean your wound, and I will tell you to moisturize the area with lotion, because alcohol dehydrates the skin. I will help you dab some Neosporin on a Band-Aid and I will watch you stick it over the dark red line.
A. A. Singh is a sleepy over-thinker who lives in Tampa, Florida, where he teaches English courses at the University of South Florida. His work has appeared in The Caribbean Writer and has work forthcoming in Diverse Voices Quarterly. He is the Associate Nonfiction Editor for the literary magazine, em: A Review of Text and Image. He is currently working on a memoir about growing up in Florida as an Indo-Trinidadian.
Q: What surprised you most during the process of composing and revising this piece?
A: The early drafts of this essay failed because of a beginning that was too heavy handed with what it was about, and because of an ending that didn't seem to go with the focus thread of the essay. I was surprised at how many paragraphs of scene I'd written, just to clear my throat, and also at how an image at the end could better do the work I so desperately tried to do with exposition.
The Hawk
Alaina Symanovich
followed by Q&A
Anyone walking past us wouldn't think anything of it. Just two friends, two girls, standing together on a cold Friday morning. You wear a gray button-down jacket, and when I look at you so snug in your oversized coat my heart flails like someone losing her balance. Your lips, pale pink, caress your cigarette like a tulip ravishing the first bee of spring. And thinking of bees makes me think of birds and I blush, thinking this, thinking this while I stare into your syrupy brown eyes and breathe in your cigarette smoke, thinking that I'd have to slouch to kiss you, to arrive at your height. Thinking that your hands rest at the perfect height to hold the supplest parts of me.
From overhead someone would probably skip over us to the hawk perched in the skinny sapling. Certainly a hawk warrants more attention than we do, heartbreaker and heartbreakee; you took me here so we could see it, after all. Took me here so you could light your cigarette and smile at the hawk and say look, with your soft nicotine lips. Look, you say, I'm just not in a good place to do anything like dating, or romantic, with anybody.
The hawk, statuesque now but maybe not for long; of course the hawk stars in this scene.
I imagine an ending where we grasp one another's hands and fly away, higher than the hawk, to a galaxy where the only white powder you care about is the stardust on our eyelashes, where the comets burn bright enough to obliterate all your scars, where the light of the sun makes me look like someone irresistible. We will outstrip that hawk, tuck stars like sticks of bubblegum in our pockets, dance like goddesses above all the trees and ceilings that ever towered over us.
I imagine an ending where you choose me.
The secretary behind us has no idea, I'm sure. She stands here every hour puffing her own brand of cigarettes—a brand I don't care to know, not like I care to know every detail about you, like how you smoke L&Ms on a daily basis and Marlboros (which you call Marls) when you feel fancy, like how you have cigarette burns on your forearms, like how your favorite perfume is Sunflowers by Elizabeth Arden, which I bought last Saturday and wear religiously. The secretary, loitering somewhere behind us, sees two brunettes: one short, one tall; one in gray, one in red; one perfect, one average; one letting the other down gently, one fallen too hard to save. Or maybe the secretary sees nothing of the sort. Maybe she watches the hawk, or the students trudging by, or the clock as its hands pass 9:50. Maybe I'm the only one who thinks about us at all.
Alaina Symanovich is a graduate student pursuing her MA in Creative Writing at The Pennsylvania State University. She prefers to write lyrical, character-driven pieces of creative and flash nonfiction. She draws inspiration from authors like Lorrie Moore, Jhumpa Lahiri and Alice Munro.
Q: What surprised you most during the process of composing and revising this piece?
A: This piece surprised me from start to finish; when I sat down to write, I didn't plan to revisit the memory of the hawk because it was still so raw. But my thoughts kept returning there, to that morning, and I knew I had to surrender to my instincts. Interestingly enough, writing (and crying) through the moment reframed how I remember it. It's no longer intensely painful, but somehow poignant, even beautiful, in my mind.
Lowell Mick White's Professed, reviewed by Brandon D. Shuler
Lowell Mick White
College Station: Slough Press, 2013
154 Pages
Paperback: $15.95
Lowell Mick White's second novel, Professed, is a satirical look at academia from the perspectives of the lowly adjunct, the lofty ivory tower of a multi-book-published tenured professor, and the disengaged student. White, in less than 140 characters, describes the book as
Professed is comic novel set in #highered filled w oddness craziness
dysphoria teaching drinking grades sex murder lust adjunct fun:::life!
But the book is more. White's Professed experiments with form and style in a way that makes the disjointed life narratives of adjuncts, tenured professors, and students embody the disconnectedness that affects most English departments in American higher education.
White's Professed tells a linear narrative. But, he structures Professed by not weaving the various perspectives throughout the story, but by stringing together three vignettes that drive the story. White's structure tells Professed's narrative almost better than the characters themselves.
Professed opens with the adjunct, the workhorse who drives the new corporate model of higher education. The adjunct becomes the disposable commodity that makes way for the disenfranchised and disengaged student, but not before the seemingly safety of the protected tenured-class professor is proven to be just as disposable and faceless as the missing portraits of the professors that came before her and the adjunct who has to babysit her spoiled cats just so he can make ends meet. Professed screams that the system is broken, but by ending with the student's tale whispers at the inanity inherent in today's higher education model.
Professed in not a screed; it is not a manifesto; nor is it a sappy recount of the personal discontentedness a singular character feels in navigating the university's hallowed halls. Professed is an empathetic story that captures the interpersonal politics of the English department and the characters who inhabit them. Professed captures each character's desire to be included into the greater whole. Professed is a must read, not only for the English major, but for anyone who has wanted desperately to belong.
Lowell Mick White, a recent inductee into the Texas Institute of Letters, is the author of Long Time Ago Good and That Demon Life. Awarded the Dobie-Paisano Fellowship by the University of Texas at Austin and the Texas Institute of Letters, White lived in Austin for 25 years, at various times working as a cab driver, as a shade tree salesman, and as an Internal Revenue Service bureaucrat. He is now Assistant Professor of English at Pittsburg State University, where he teaches creative writing and literature.
Prime Decimals 47.3
by Owen Vince
He remembered the nine months of his pregnancy. I mean to say, of his own gestation, the months of his unfolding, of his creation in the womb. For years he went by oblivious to it when, slipping jerkily on a bloom of ice, he knocked his head. That was when he remembered how he had come into being, built from cell to cell.
He couldn't look at his mother. He couldn't bear to face her. She called him on the telephone and the unknown intimacy of it overwhelmed him. He bit his lip and blushed the colour of tinned salmon. But he was obsessed with it, with realising that memory. He spent hours wrapped tight and body-curled on his bed, piled among sheets. He wore three pairs of socks. He bathed for hours, thickening the water with flour.
Tremblingly he explained it to me. How he remembered this complete awareness. How his organs splayed and grew and filled the spaces of him. Of recalling the hazy development and definition of his fingertips and toes, the clarification of his mouth and nose. He even recalled the taste of his mother's birthing fluid—the taste of game, with a distinctly floral tang. He tried all sorts of concoctions to remember it—hare and honeydew, deer and damson, pheasant and plum. None of them recalled what he had once tasted.
We worried about him. This project of bringing back what now was gone. He let his job slip, his commitments and familiarities. He grew angry when we told him he was too obsessed. He simply explained the fact that he was born strangely blue. Of how the midwife had marked the time of his birth from an unusual and non-clinical oriental clock, the hands of which were spread like the heads and buds of flowers.
He spent more and more time at the local pool, just floating in the warm water, his fingertips crinkling like sodden paste, eddying on the tideless waves.
It wasn't long before he had spent his savings on creating a vast spherical tub in his garden. We came to visit him, but he was simply agitated and dismissive. He glanced anxiously at the too-hot sun and repeatedly dipped his fingertips into thick water, ducking his head into buckets, under it.
On the day of the sphere's completion he donned a mask and tube that connected with the outside world. He called it his umbilical. His eyes were glassy and shallow like fake pearls. He clambered up a ladder and, moving his legs slowly like an astronaut, he dipped his body into the thick, brackish fluid. He floated there in the depth of it, spinning slow trellises of himself in the soup, his body twisted into a question mark.
He never spoke again. Even to this day we wonder whether he got his wish—whether he shrunk to a point, and disappeared into the mash.
Owen Vince is a poet and writer living on coastal west Wales. Originally an archaeologist, he has since turned to writing, which has appeared in Cadaverine Magazine, The Siren, NNATAN, and Igloo, among others. "Swim" was one of the winners of the Press 53 Flash Fiction Contest at AWP 2014.
by Eric Ramseier
followed by Q&A
It's Kansas spelled backwards. It's also a dystopian version of a strip club that would make Ernst Bloch shudder. Beer is ordered by the pitcher exclusively. The cushions on the booths have stab wounds repaired with duct tape. No, they really are stab wounds, from knives. The woman gyrating on stage, if they ever had primes, are well past them. And hot dogs. They sell hot dogs out of an old school cafeteria warming station. The place stinks of hot dog water.
We all have pitchers, oil slicked on the surface. The woman—she is not a girl—has a jagged and noticeable c-section scar. We can't help but laugh. Later when I read de Beauvoir and Butler and d'Eaubonne, I will think back to this day and wonder if I've objectified this woman. Probably. But I think it is more of a pure positional thing. Who can we laugh at except those less than us? We are bad off, so we think, but she is worse. It is just too bad she is a woman.
My buddy laughs so hard he falls out of his seat and smashes his nose into the bolted-down table. Blood spills from his face onto the floor. The woman on stage stops her gyrating to the Krokus song and disappears backstage only to reappear a moment later with a dirty yellow roller bucket and mop. She puts a lot of elbow grease into cleaning up my buddy's blood without any safety equipment. She hands him a wad of brown paper towels, the kind they have in elementary schools. She does all of this with a smile on her face.
"That's the exact kind of person I need," my buddy explains. "Look at what she does for me."
Amen, brother.
Eric Ramseier has earned an MA from Kansas State University and an MFA from Old Dominion University. His work has appeared in Specter, Whistling Fire, and others.
Q: What can you tell us about the inspiration for this piece?
A: As horrifying as it sounds, Sasnak is a real place, and this somewhat autobiographical.
The Minor Poet Commits the Eighth Deadly Sin
by Lois Marie Harrod
followed by Q&A
There is no greater Sin after the seven deadly
than to flatter oneself into an idea of being a great poet. John Keats
The minor poet wanted to be a major poet and so he refrained
from the seven deadly sins, not spewing his wrath on the face
of the sheet, but being long-suffering and gracious when
the not-so-good poet won the latest publishing contest, 60-96 pages
and $1000, even writing a congratulatory letter, glad to hear
your confessional schlock found a home, thought that stuff
went out with Lowell, and he eschewed greed, how avaricious
could he be when the biggest prize couldn't rescue a Cambodian
family of four from poverty? And nobody could ever accuse him
of sloth. He wasn't one of those Sunday poets who wrote only
when inspiration struck, oh no, he scribbled every day,
even if only a haiku. Why he often wrote a poem on the way
to work because what poet could live on his poetry, no laziness
for him, though he had heard leisure was necessary for culture,
and it was certainly true that very few of his kind seemed to have
any time to read poesie. As for pride, what did he have
to be proud of, that stapled volume, his life's work, several
hundred copies, remaindered on his shelf, at least his ex-wife
had left him that. Of course, there was lust from time to time,
that cute seventeen-year-old with the voluptuous verbs and sinuous
sonnets, but really, he wasn't a pedophile like those Catholic
priests who were also trying, but not very hard it seemed, to avoid
the seven deadly sins. He suppressed occasional envy, all those
kids right out of MFA programs blogging their poems, tweeting
on and picking up prizes here and there, he would have had
a much better chance if he had gone to Harvard or Yale.
As for gluttony, well, like most poets he had given up red meat.
However, he did flatter himself at those open readings where he
was better than most and always had an extra single-spaced
three-pager wadded in his pocket to pull out when the host said,
"Yes, one more poem but then that is enough."
Lois Marie Harrod's 13th and 14th poetry collections "Fragments from the Biography of Nemesis" and "How Marlene Mae Longs for Truth" appeared in 2013. "The Only Is" won the 2012 Tennessee Chapbook Contest (Poems & Plays); "Brief Term," poems about teaching, was published by Black Buzzard Press (2011). Widely published in print journals and online from American Poetry Review to Zone 3, she has received six fellowships from VCCA and three from New Jersey Council on the Arts. A Geraldine R. Dodge poet and former high school teacher, she teaches Creative Writing at TCNJ. Visit her work on www.loismarieharrod.org
Q: What can you tell us about this poem?
A: Since FAMOUS POET is an oxymoron, I have been having fun writing about MINOR POETS in all their bizarre and touching manifestations. "The Minor Poet Commits the Eighth Deadly Sin" is part of a series that includes "The Minor Poet Takes Her Old Lady Students Out to Write en Plein Air" and "The Minor Poet Gives the Two-Poem Warning."
The Best Writing on Mathematics, 2012
Tim Suermondt
followed by Q&A
Almost right is good enough
--a Chinese saying
While I obviously wasn't included
I respect the symmetry of an equation—
not exactly the equation that's correct,
but the one a man or woman tries to get correct
and fails—and here a boy enters, floundering
with his mathematics—and a father
who can't countenance such floundering. No problem,
they'll forgive themselves over this issue years later.
"How many apricots in a line would it take
to reach the moon?" Let me work on the answer.
Tim Suermondt is the author of two full-length books of poems, "Trying to Help the Elephant Dance" and "Just Beautiful." He's had poems published in many magazines and journals, both in print and on line, including Poetry, The Georgia Review, Prairie Schooner, Stand Magazine, December Magazine and Bellevue Literary Review. He lives in Cambridge with his wife, the poet Pui Ying Wong.
Q: What can you tell us about this poem?
A: I was in a bookstore, going through the "Best Writing on…" series. And when I came to the "Best Writing on Mathematics," it opened up the floodgates to my relationship with both mathematics and my father—and how trying, which never stops, is a reward itself. Yes we usually fail, but sometimes we succeed, sometimes gloriously so.
Moderation is the Key
Amy Monticello
followed by Q&A
This is how you do it: Load the test strip into the little blue meter and watch the screen spring to life. A digital teardrop blinks, ready.
Rub your index, middle, ring, or pinky finger from base to tip to redistribute blood, changing fingers and hands to avoid callouses. Your fingertip should blush rosy, like you've just released your grip on the handle of a heavy suitcase.
Insert a clean lancet into the lancing device. Twist the cap of the lancet until it releases, revealing the short, sharp point. Cock the lancing device. Press the end against the side of your finger, a less sensitive spot than the nerve-clustered pad. Fire. Wince because it hurts. Wince because it doesn't, and that surprises you. Wince because it still feels wrong to stick a sharp object into your skin on purpose. Wince because the anticipation is over so quickly.
Collect the droplet of blood, no bigger than the beads you used to string on pieces of fishing line, and feed it into the test strip until the meter beeps. If the meter doesn't beep, set the lancet to pierce you deeper—you'll feel the difference, a stinging, spreading warmth down the palm of your hand.
Wait for the number. Feel relief or disappointment (the self-chastising kind, the kind that curses your weakness for taut red grapes).
A dietician showed my father this process four years ago, after his first heart attack necessitated the full medical work-up that discovered his Type II diabetes. I took him to his diabetic training session at the hospital, where he got an exclusive hour with a young, attractive nutritionist, all blond perk and reassurance. As he did with women of her ilk, my father pleased her with compliance. He put his reading glasses on to examine the meal plan sheets, leafed interestedly through the booklet on carbohydrates, and, when instructed, performed the finger-prick.
But that's what it was: a performance. My father was an expert performer. When I offered to drive him to the pharmacy to pick up his insurance-covered glucose meter, he said, "That's okay, hon. I'll do it later." I knew then he'd already made up his mind never to prick his finger again. Even though Type II diabetes had brought on his father's renal failure. Even though all the science suggested the chances for a second heart attack went up exponentially with diabetes.
My mother called it a self-fulfilling prophecy. I fully expected to fail my twenty-eight week glucose tolerance test. I expected to fail despite all the friends who told me how rare it was to fail, despite all their pleas for me to eat some ice cream and quit worrying, despite all their certainty that my pregnancy was textbook fine.
Maybe it was the family history. Maybe it was the unprecedented cravings for brownies that left me misty-eyed at the office when a colleague brought baked goods to work. Maybe it was the fact that I conceived my baby five months after my father died of a heart attack, a result of his advanced renal cell cancer, according to the death certificate. When the two pink lines appeared on my test, I immediately prepared for a miscarriage, certain as I was that my body, wracked by loss, was too noxious a place for a baby. The trajectory of my pregnancy has not been a blissful, starlit path marked by joyful milestones, but a hectic highway of nausea, mood swings, and grief. When my midwife called with the gestational diabetes diagnosis, I nodded at the phone with resignation. Then I cried for three days.
Everyone—my midwives, my friends, my husband—assured me that it wasn't my fault. They cited the research that says gestational diabetes, unlike Type II, isn't the result of heredity or lifestyle, but the impeding of insulin by hormones produced in the placenta. They reiterated that it could happen to anyone, regardless of body type—marathon runners could get it, they said. They reminded me that I had been eating healthy and exercising throughout my pregnancy. I'd done everything right.
And yet I was overcome by guilt and fear. Guilt because my body wasn't working as it should, and I'm quick to blame myself when something doesn't go my way. Fear because of the complications gestational diabetes introduced to my pregnancy. My screwy insulin could affect my baby's insulin. She could retain too much blood sugar and develop fetal macrosomia or hypoglycemia. Or worse, my placenta could "age" prematurely, pulling away from the wall of my uterus, depriving her of vital nutrition in her final weeks inside me. In the worst-case scenario, she could die.
The first line of the brochure the hospital sent me read, "If you are diagnosed with glucose intolerance, this is now considered a high-risk pregnancy."
I declined to view my father's body before it was sent to the morgue, a choice I've since regretted. I never kissed his face one last time, or breathed in his scent of smoke and detergent. I can't describe what he looked like dead because I only made it as far as the ambulance before I couldn't look anymore.
But after my GD diagnosis, I typed "stillborn baby" into Google and made myself scroll through the images. I was shocked by the sheer number of them, pages and pages of dead newborns. Some were gruesome, almost too much to bear, but most showed fully formed babies who appeared to be sleeping in a swaddle, or a bassinet, or, most tenderly, their parents' arms.
Some photos were even taken professionally. The camera lens zoomed in on perfect and perfectly lifeless tiny hands resting on adult fingers. There's a photographer where we live that will do this, take beautiful photos of the dead babies their mothers pushed into the world only to bury them.
I openly wept as I viewed the images, and never once did I assume these deaths were caused by parental neglect, by poor choices. I was amazed, in fact, by the profound love and loss I could sense in so many of the photos. All the efforts. All the hope.
But as I felt my daughter push her heel against my stomach—the game we play at night called "Show Me Your Foot"—I wondered, for what could I forgive myself?
My father taught me about indulgence. The pleasure of excess. He had mottos about it. Only order from the right side of the menu. Tip like a Rockefeller. It only costs an extra thousand to go first class. He made money to spend it, drank to get drunk, ate disproportionately down a narrow swath of the food pyramid (pasta, white bread, Hostess cakes and Oreos by the sleeve, sometimes a detour to corn or green peas drowned in butter). One weekend, both of us sick with the flu, he drove to the video store and returned with the first three seasons of The Sopranos. We had seen them before, but my father thought it would be fun to see them again while we waited for the virus to pass. We watched them in 12-hour blocks for three days straight, pausing only to eat ice cream and refill our grape sodas.
Years ago, his friends had ironic business cards made up for him: Danny Monticello: Moderation is the Key!
He was loved, of course. Who doesn't love the permission of a friend who will always have seconds, always go one more round, always make the night last a little longer?
On the day we went to hear the results of his CAT scan, my father finished a worried cigarette outside the sliding glass doors of the urology office. "It's not going to be good news," he said. "I fucked up."
I knew what he meant. He meant his life. The smoking. The drinking. He didn't need anyone to tell him. But he was my big-hearted dad, and I couldn't dream of blaming him for being him, of believing he deserved what we both knew was coming in those test results. Who deserves tumors because the hard things about being alive seem easier with a beer, or a smoke, or a bowl of Neopolitan? See, I've never understood the value of frugality, am mystified by self-deprivation. I loved to watch my father consume. Satiate. See his head loll and eyes glaze with the too-muchness of what could fill his one and only life.
Because he said yes. Because he said more.
I rested my head against his arm. "Nobody makes all the right choices," I said. "The important thing about life is that it's meaningful. They were all good times, Dad."
I expected him to be thankful for the exoneration, especially from me, who had the second most to lose. But he tossed his butt and shook his head. "Wasn't worth it, hon," he said.
I test first thing in the morning. That's my fasting read. Then again an hour after breakfast. Then before lunch and an hour after. Then before dinner and an hour after that. Six times a day.
Exercise helps the body process glucose faster, using it up before insulin-blocking hormones can send it to the blood, where it passes the placenta to my baby. My belly is now too large to do my spinning classes, so I use an elliptical machine. I also walk, usually several times a day, waddling up and down the streets of my suburban neighborhood in a winter coat that just barely still fits my seven months' pregnant body. Sometimes I do squats, or lift small weights, or do a prenatal yoga video. I swim at the YMCA. I climb the stairs on the campus where I teach. I pace in the classroom, squeezing in a few extra steps where I can. I've reached 33 weeks. Seven more to go.
Other parents advise my husband and me that now is the time to see movies, take naps, eat out every night at all our favorite restaurants. But we don't go out; all my food gets measured now, weighed in grams and doled onto on little plates where we can see our efforts precisely portioned. My husband and I scrutinize nutrition labels, counting the carbohydrates. Is it worth it to have half a cup of ice cream when I can have a whole cup of Greek yogurt? How many grapes do 3 oz. equal? In the game of Six and One-Half Dozen, I still want whatever looks like more.
My husband and I started trying to get pregnant when my father was still alive. I knew I wanted a child someday, but I'm ready to admit I thought having one now might bribe him into taking better care of himself. I had no right to do this, to manipulate him into changing. I had no right.
In the end, it didn't matter. My husband and I waited too long to start trying. When the doctor told us my father's cancer had spread, and we could only try to prolong his life—a few weeks, maybe a handful of months—with this or that experimental therapy, my father asked what was the point. He was going to die anyway.
My father, my mother, and I stood in the hospital lobby after the appointment. I didn't know what to say. Behind us, the automatic doors slid open and closed, a moving threshold between living and dying, which is what all of us are doing, really, all of the time.
My mother was angry that he didn't want to fight. "For your daughter?" she said. "For your future grandchild? Is that something you'd like to see someday, if you could?"
He looked at the floor. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I'd like that very much."
But hope isn't a cure, and one loss doesn't prevent another. Though we try, don't we? We eat the leafy greens and eschew the desserts. We run and spin and swim ourselves to the perception of safety. We count the carbohydrates. We go Paleo. We go vegan. We say it's all a matter of priorities. Illnesses are just choices manifesting. Death is preventable.
I hinge my days on a series of numbers. I catalogue every morsel I consume. Again and again, I find my daughter's foot. There it is. She's alive.
My husband and I have given her a name, but as we approach her possibly risky arrival, I've noticed myself saying it less. Saying it only sparingly, a caution, a talisman. An entitlement I do not deserve. A whisper of hope I'm afraid to have.
When we speak, we do so slowly, trying to enunciate.
Amy Monticello's work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Iron Horse Literary Review, Brevity, Natural Bridge, Redivider, and elsewhere, and was listed as notable in Best American Essays 2013. Her nonfiction chapbook, Close Quarters, was released by Sweet Publications, and her work has been anthologized in Tuscaloosa Writes This (Slash Pine Press, 2013) and Going Om (Viva Edition/Cleis Press, forthcoming 2014). She currently teaches at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire.
Q: What surprised you most during the process of composing and revising this piece?
A: The piece began as a kind of meditation on this shared illness between my dad and me, this link between his death and my pregnancy. But while I was writing, I was also reading a ton on diabetes, and I noticed how often the focus is on prevention through diet. That's the culture of health we live in America, an insistence that we can outrun illness through our choices, and a conflation of health with personal value. So, the slight cultural critique that emerges throughout the essay, especially at the end—something I'm exploring further in other pieces—came during revision, when I saw the piece more as an artifact than a reflection.
Q: What's the best writing advice you've received? Did you follow it? Why, or why not?
A: Lee K. Abbott once told me that all characters deserve "full citizenship," which is another way of saying, I think, that they deserve to be written with empathy. They have pasts and are products of environment. Most importantly, their core behaviors can produce a multitude of effects. My father's indulgent lifestyle most likely brought on or exacerbated his illnesses, but also brought joy to others' lives, including mine. I wanted to show those two things intertwined, impossible to separate through judgment.
Q: What three to five authors and/or books have inspired your journey as a writer?
A: That changes depending on which part of the journey we're talking about. At the moment, I'm writing a lot about grief, so reading material is basically endless. But a few books that have really dug in as I work are Sarah Manguso's The Guardians, Amy Fusselman's The Pharmacist's Mate, Kathleen Finneran's The Tender Land, Emily Rapp's The Still Point of the Turning World, and Mary Miller's Big World. I'm still trying to figure out what it means, if anything, that all of these books were written by women. Something they have in common, though, is an explicit interest in the instructive nature of grief; they're all inquiries into character, culture, religion, medicine, history, and family.
Q: Describe your writing space for us. Are you someone who finds the muse in a public space such as a café, or in a cave of one's own?
A: Ideally, I write at home, at my little antique secretary's desk (that's what my mother calls it), in the middle of the day. I'm a weird afternoon writer who likes her mornings for reading/teaching/grading, and her evenings for TV. But as I get older and busier, I'm less in need of the ideal. I write in airport terminals, I write riding shotgun on car trips, I write during office hours. Sticking to the ideal would mean I'd never get enough work done.


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Happy Saturday my lovelies. Today has mostly consisted of me incorporating my brand spanking new logo into my site…hope you like it! I've also been busy making my site a .com and .co.uk so even more changes to come soon…eek doing a little jig with excitement!
I'll be working on more posts later, but only after I have enjoyed a nice bubble bath and face pack. Needless to say I haven't even gotten dressed today…oh the shame! I thought I would post yesterdays OOTD to show what I paired my new NAKED 3 smoky eye look with.
Looking at the pics I think I've been watching a bit too much MIC of late…thank goodness it's on a season brake…I'm addicted and I don't know why? #trashtvshame
I went for an oversized black tshirt with my high waisted Vero Moda jeans…they are perfect for tall girls. I accessorised with my £1.50 ebay necklace that I love, Michael Kors watch…obvs and Steve Madden Monicaa Biker Boots. As you may have seen I paired it with a Rose Gold smokey eye and a berry lip.
So that's kinda how I was feeling yesterday when I was running about doing a million things! Today is more about relaxation and sorting my saved content.
Sonya D x

subset: commoncrawl


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Many different kinds of Pecorino cheese adorn a shop in San Gimignano in Tuscany. What is your favorite?
Tag: siena
Corzano e Paterno Winery
Last summer I visited this lovely winery, caseificio (CHEESE!) and olive farm located in San Casciano Val di Pesa, roughly halfway between Florence and Siena in Toscana. Nestled in a remote location with breathtaking views of the countryside, it's well worth the drive. We had the normal tour of the place, learned about the cheese and olive oil production and then settled down to TASTE!
Posing for Pictures in Italy.
We often forget to enjoy the view as we spend hours behind the camera lens. This picture shows what happened when we arrived at Il Greppo winery near Siena – a photographic hog-heaven of sorts. I'm curious, what sorts of body contortions will you do to get the perfect shot? Anyway you look at it, it's complicated!
Midst medieval buildings. Pink tablecloths beckon.
Italy: Storybook Land and Dante's Inferno
This is the amazing view from Castello di Monteriggioni in Toscana. As the sun set after a long day of touring, wining and tasting we settled in at the Fattoria, Castello di Monteriggioni near Siena. Before dinner we walked all around this little town where there are no autos allowed. Built in the early 1200's, Monteriggioni is an excellent example of a medieval walled town. You can find mention of this fairyland in Dante's Inferno. Photo taken in May of 2012.
Style. Even Italian beehives have it.
I spied these stylish Italian beehives during a splendid afternoon and evening at Agriturismo Il Greppo, a lovely winery and bed/breakfast located somewhere between Siena and Montepulciano. Before dinner and as the sun was setting amongst the vineyard, we were treated to tour of the grounds, the production room and a full round of wine tasting. As a result I left with an entire case of Vino Nobile. Il Greppo wines are based on the Sangiovese grape. and their main production is Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. We also tasted Rosso di Montepulciano, Chianti and Vin Santo. Una bella esperienza!


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C/CAG Carpool 2.0 Rewards Program The Carpool 2.0 program rewards all forms of carpooling, from matching with your co-workers to using carpool apps to find carpool partners. Carpool 2.0 aims to increase local carpool ridership during peak travel periods, therefore reducing single occupancy vehicles, traffic congestion, greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions and the need for parking within San Mateo County. By carpooling, commuters can save time, money, and the environment.
How Does Carpool 2.0 Work? Carpoolers will receive up to $100 in e-gift cards and get to choose from over 70 retailers and charities! When carpool trips are tracked through the STAR Commute Tracker app or by connecting a Scoop or Waze Carpool account to a STAR account to auto-track carpool trips, commuters can unlock rewards. For every 10 carpool days tracked, commuters can claim a $25 e-gift card reward, up to $100. All rewards are subject to verification and there is a limit of four rewards ($100) per person. Carpool commutes must start or end in San Mateo County to qualify for this reward.
How Do I Receive My Reward? In the Commuter Tracker app or STAR desktop. Click 'Join Program' under rewards. After every 10 carpool days tracked, click 'Claim' to request reward. Once request is approved, an email will be sent to access reward.
The Program is Live on STAR Carpool 2.0 rewards are available now on STAR
Carpool Definition Carpools consist of two or more persons driving together in a privately owned vehicle; the driver does not get paid above the standard mileage reimbursement rate for providing the ride; the trip for all passengers must start or end at workplaces or colleges; and the origin or destination for the incentive program participant must be within San Mateo County.
Program Evaluation C/CAG will evaluate the program's impact on commuter behavior and trends by closely monitoring ridership, time of day, origins and destinations of trips (aggregated) and other relevant data.
Program Funding The program is supported by C/CAG local congestion relief fund and funds allocated to C/CAG by the Bay Area Air Quality Management District (BAAQMD) as part of the San Mateo County Program Manager Fund. Rewards will be available until funds are depleted or 12/31/2019.
About C/CAG The City/County Association of Governments of San Mateo County (C/CAG) is the designated Congestion Management Agency (CMA) for San Mateo County responsible for the coordinating, planning, and programming of transportation, land-use, and environmental-related programs and projects. C/CAG provides a cooperative, cost-effective means of responding to countywide planning, transportation and other mandates from the State of California and the Federal Government. The C/CAG Board of Directors consists of representatives elected members of the Council/Board) from each of the 20 cities and the county. For more information please visit www.ccag.ca.gov.
Helpful Resources
Carpool 2.0 FAQs (PDF)
Getting Started with Commute Tracker app (video)
How to Connect Your Scoop Account to STAR (video)
Carpool 2.0 Incentive handout - English (PDF)
Carpool 2.0 Incentive handout - Spanish (PDF)
Carpool 2.0 Incentive flyer (PDF)
Carpool 2.0 Incentive poster (PDF)
Carpool 2.0 press release (1/24/2019) (PDF)


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Bag: Coach
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Legally Redhead
Bag: Coach
8 comments:
- Tiffany said...
OMG I love that a little girl thought you were a princess! You totally look the part in this outfit. Yay for an exciting week!!
- May 7, 2011 at 10:02 PM
- Sara said...
That's adorable!! I love little kids' minds and what they come up with :)
I'm also super loving the pink combos, and that fabulous bag! Aren't you glad its finally spring and we can wear bright colors again??
- May 8, 2011 at 11:01 AM
That is too cute!!! I love that blouse!
Lidi @ Eclectic Flair
- May 8, 2011 at 2:48 PM
- Sarah said...
I adore this look. What a great dress. Great color and style. Plus I love your shoes and I love your hair. You look just perfect!
- May 8, 2011 at 5:53 PM
- dawn marie said...
I totally wore that same skirt today to work! (I work at The Limited :)
- May 8, 2011 at 9:32 PM
- Alessandra said...
What a cute story and you do look like a princess. As always, love your use of color. You = pretty in pink!
- May 9, 2011 at 4:40 AM
- Melody said...
haha that's so cute the little girl thought you were a princess! I love all the shades of pink, Very pretty!
- May 10, 2011 at 8:17 AM
- Frannie Pantz said...
My cousin's daughter called me a princess last week! I love kids. I am a paralegal and blogger too so I love the Elle Woods reference. "Bruiser what's this?" Lol. My daughter's name is Brielle and I call her Elle. No coincidence I promise ;-)
- May 10, 2011 at 10:46 AM


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Our Passion Fuels Your Mission
Compete this form and upon approval, receive discounts we can only afford to offer to nonprofit organizations.
Submission Form
As a company committed to partnering with nonprofit and charitable organizations in serving the community, Peterson lends a helping hand in a variety of ways. In the past, support has primarily been provided in the form of donations and volunteer efforts. But for those with trucking needs, Peterson Trucks has now prepared several exclusive offerings that are only available to charitable organizations.
Not only will you reap the rewards of unbeatable rates, but you'll also have the added benefit of a knowledgeable staff that can offer suggestions or assist you with questions and concerns. When you choose Peterson, you're not just earning exclusive deals. You're investing in a partner that is dedicated to providing you with support to do more than succeed, but thrive. Together we can go the distance.
When you bring your business to Peterson, you gain access to exclusive national fleet pricing on parts. This offer is only available for nonprofits and guarantees the lowest pricing on the highest quality of product. So whether you're picking up donated clothes or delivering food, choose Peterson to be your part supplier.
Keeping maintenance costs down is a struggle no matter what industry your organization serves. But as a company dedicated to partnering with its customers in building the future, Peterson makes your productivity a priority.
With Peterson's exclusive nonprofit offering, you take 20% off of all labor performed in Peterson shops, making truck servicing a little more affordable for those who pride themselves in service.
Peterson Idealease understands the importance of having access to rental trucks during emergency situations, breakdowns, repairs, or when additional vehicles are needed to handle short-term peaks in demand. So rental terms have been specifically tailored to meet these inevitable inconveniences. Whether your rental needs are for one day or for several months at a time, Idealease has a special fleet of trucks set aside for your business necessities.
A full service lease with Idealease allows you to enjoy all of the benefits of ownership, with none of the headaches. Truck Leasing can help improve cash flow and increase productivity by giving you the ability to focus on your business while Idealease manages all of your maintenance issues. Conserve capital and address specific balance sheet and tax issues with a stress-free lease. There is no deposit up front. And at the end of the term, full service lease customers simply return the vehicle to Idealease without concerning themselves with disposal or residual exposure.
Whether your truck makes a planned visit to our shop or an unexpected halt on the side of the road, you have peace of mind knowing that Idealease will take care of you wherever you are. Our state-of-theart mobile service trucks are operated by highly trained technicians who are ready for anything. These techs are on the road every day, performing scheduled maintenance at customer locations and getting equipment back on the road should a breakdown occur.
With a dedicated team on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, you can be confident that your business will spend less on down time and challenges.
Idealease Priority Service keeps your trucks on the road and out of the shop! That's what sets Peterson Idealease apart from the rest.
Peterson in the Community:
We're committed to partnering with nonprofit and charitable organizations within the communities we serve. Visit our Community Outreach page to learn more about our cash, equipment and volunteer contributions.


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Why should SOW suppliers pay a program fee?
A fair question. But the wrong one to ask when trying to justify a supplier-funded SOW program.
First – define what a program is
A contingent labor program is a coordinated management model that provides governance and operational support for the exchange (i.e. buying and selling) of temporary labor services within a client organization. So, when the program scope is expanded to include statement of work, that simply means the exchange (or market) for SOW-based services at the client organization is being similarly managed by the program.
Next – acknowledge what a program is not
The establishment of a program does not in and of itself create the market. To be clear: program is not the same as market. In fact, the genesis of the market for buying and selling services was established a long time ago when the client organization made the very first buy from a third party service provider. More than likely the contingent labor program (i.e. MSP, VMS, internal coordination, policies, etc) wasn't even a glimmer in the eyes of the organization executive team that early in the company history.
The better question to ask
Just because there is no formal, organized or mature management function to provide governance and operational support to the exchange of SOW-based services does not mean that the market does not exist. And similar to the loud, crashing sound the fallen tree most assuredly makes in the forest, the market for services that no one is really managing surely comes at a cost.
So here's the better question to ask when considering the case for a supplier-funded SOW program or program expansion into SOW:
Who currently pays for and has been paying for the unmanaged market of SOW-based services?
The costs of the unmanaged market
You won't find them in a single line item of any budget or in any GL expense report. Why? Because un-managed also means un-visible spend and vendor data, and un-controlled invoices and payments, and un-centralized processes, making the costs to support the market un-likely to be identified and estimable. Nonetheless the cost impacts are real and a solid case can be made. Consider a sampling of common impacts in un- and under-managed markets for SOW-based services:
- Manual processes to submit, approve and pay invoices can run as high as $20 per invoice
- Procurement cycle times can delay projects for weeks driving acquisition costs (for the buyer) and new business development costs (for the supplier) materially higher as a percentage of total project costs
- Sole sourced engagements tend to come with 25-50% price premiums; and that does not even include the costs associated with excessive SOW amendments and original SOW budget over-runs
- Contract, regulatory, wrong vendor risks are higher when the processes to source and develop and execute contracts is disparate, manual and uncontrolled
- Lack of visibility into spend and vendor data not only handicaps commercial term negotiations but exposes the organization to misclassification and wrong vendor risks.
Future cost savings or current costs?
For those who have developed the business case for initiating a new spend management program, or even expanding an existing one, the list above probably looks familiar. Most of us, though, tend to think about these examples (and plenty others too numerous to list here) as the cost savings to be achieved by putting program management in place vs the current costs being incurred by the un- or under-managed market for SOW-based services.
Aren't they the same thing?
Purists will argue the difference between cost cutting and cost take outs, etc., of course, but for now let's just keep it simple and straight forward:
Future SOW market-related cost savings to be achieved by the implementation of a program management solution are equal to some factor of the current waste in sourcing, contracting and payments processes plus the current over payments to third party service providers; or
Savings = process efficiencies + improved pricing
Approach supplier funding from the correct perspective
The title of this article was chosen because that is a question I get from clients and partners quite frequently. They ask it sincerely, not knowing what the value proposition of a supplier-funded program is for the SOW supplier and being understandably concerned about supplier rejection to the new program, thus leading to program failure. To a procurement manager or organization that has not been confronted with this kind of business problem opportunity before, it is a logical response to have.
My suggestion is that the funding conversation between buyer and seller not be entered into with the mistaken belief that both parties are currently at a point of equilibrium regarding the pending costs and services of the new program management being considered. Acknowledging this fair playing field fallacy favors the SOW supplier side of the negotiation because it ignores the reality of the current state:
The current costs of the unmanaged market for SOW-based services are borne by the client company, not by the supplier(s).
How to leverage this perspective
In an unmanaged SOW-based services market the external service provider has already baked into their fee structure a healthy allocation for new business development (i.e. their cost to get new business: sales team, marketing, RFP responses, contract negotiations, holding named resources on the bench until project start, etc). They do this, in part at least, to account for the very real risks of encountering the same unmanaged market challenges that are motivating the client to put program management in place: inefficient processes, waste, long cycle times, delayed project starts, etc.
Here's another good question to ask
If the client organization fixes these market problems by putting a well functioning program in place to manage it, doesn't it make sense for the supplier to at least share in that cost?
Wouldn't participating in a program that eliminates waste and reduces procurement cycle times benefit suppliers as well? Yes. Isn't this a fair argument for them to at least reduce the NBD allocation they have built into their fee structure? Yes. Experience tells us most professional service firms have NBD allocations that are 3-5X that of the program fees they are being asked to pay.
The counter argument
When I walk through this reasoning with some clients they react by saying something like the following:
"But we have already negotiated their pricing or rates pretty hard. We can't ask them to take on a 2% program fee, they'll just add it on to current pricing and we will end up paying for the program any way."
My initial response to this kind of resistance is to softly reject the near perfect transparency the stakeholder is effectively claiming he or she has into this supplier's pricing and the position of that pricing relative to the pricing within their company's micro market for that particular type of spend or practice area. Remember, this client's SOW-based services market is currently un- or under-managed, which is why they are pursuing the program solution in the first place. The probing into the validity of this claim goes something like this:
- If you have not been fully managing this spend or vendor category, how do you know? How do you know there is not room for the supplier to absorb the fee?
- What kind of benchmarks have you been using to validate that the supplier's pricing is completely aligned with market expectations?
- What was the last price increase the supplier notified you of? Do you track and validate each increase?
- Do you have a rate card reconciliation dating back to the last time you negotiated these rates? Does it go back more than 3 years? And if they increased rates during that time did you validate the reasons they gave you for the increases?
- What is your supplier's current margin? What is their overhead allocation? How do these compare to the other suppliers in the same spend space at your company?
- For fixed fee or deliverables-based pricing how have you validated or benchmarked that pricing to ensure it was priced exactly as it was supposed to be priced?
- Has your supplier(s) provided you with a breakdown accounting for all segments of the rates they are charging you? How about for the fixed fee engagements? Are their fixed fees at a premium or a discount to a comparable time & materials arrangement?
In order for a client to make a credible claim that their current supplier pricing is so tightly managed and thus cannot withstand the addition (absorption) of a 1-3% program fee, a great deal of existing and historic transparency and pricing structure familiarity is required. In most cases, however, that is not the reality of the current state for a company looking to initially establish SOW program capabilities.
In the rare case such familiarity and transparency do exist, and where the supplier pricing is so tight that they would indeed have to add the fee on top of current pricing, then I would still advocate the supplier-funded model as a viable alternative to a buyer-funded program for the following two reasons:
- Tacking the fee on to each individual engagement is a good way to allocate program utilization costs fairly across the client organization; and
- The supplier-funded model is an SOW program expansion path forward that does not require Procurement to cut a check (often a very real obstacle).
In the end, having the supplier-funded SOW program conversation with some clients is tough because often the resistance they have to the supplier paying the program fee is not pricing related at all; rather it is relationship based. Clients, including procurement, vendor and category managers, often don't want to 'rock the boat' – aka risk the wrath of business unit executives who the suppliers are sure to complain to when the program fee topic is broached.


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How to Get Pregnant with Twins: Yes, Its Possible!
Some married couples possess a wish of conceiving twins. Actually it depends on the wantage of both mother and father. Some like to have a big family while some wants a close sibling from the birth. Twin babies can be identical or fraternal. Identical twins are born when a single fertilized egg gets divided into two eggs giving birth to two developed babies and fraternal twins are born when two different eggs develops into two babies. Giving birth to twins is a very rare incident but there are some healthy tips that really increase your chance of having twin babies. So if you are really planning to have twins read out the full article and try out the steps below.
Ways to Get Pregnant With Twins
Try to understand the chances: Having twins depends on the chances you possess. Mostly it depends on the mother. According to medical science if a woman is tall and overweight their chances of conceiving twin baby increases. On a study it has also proved that the African and European women have greater chances of having twins. Again the Asian and Hispanic women have a very low chance. As the age increases the chances of getting twins also increases. So you have to understand your chances are high or low.
Try to gain weight: If you are really interested in having twins then you have to put on a lot of weight during pregnancy period. Conceiving twins need to gain a lot of weight in the body. So you should consume plenty of fatty foods because it's the only way to gain weight rapidly. But remember you should be quiet considerate while eating. Over eating can be harmful to you.
Take vitamins: Vitamins are very essential while pregnancy. So to have twins you should be sure that you are not lacking in vitamins. Consume Folic acid tablets daily. Folic acid is very useful so you can get then easily from any medicine store. But discuss with the medical practitioner about the dosage.
Stop birth control pills: You should immediately stop birth control pills when you are finally decided to get pregnant. According to medical science, as soon as the birth control pills are stopped women starts excreting hormones in their body very furiously which sometimes result in having twins. So you should be aware about that.
Create a gap between two conceptions: Try to create a gap between two conceptions. This increases the chance of having twins. If you are really interested in twins, then please don't rush to conceive every year. This will result in decreasing the chance of getting twins.
Check out the family history: Getting pregnant with twins can sometimes be hereditary. Yes if you are a twin yourself and any other members have given birth to twins in the past history can result you in getting twins. As this process is very rare, but still a chance remains for heredity factors.
Be positive: Always try to be positive about conceiving twins. Keep in mind that positiveness increases the psychological power which will help you to prepare yourself into having twins. Always think about it positively. Never be very negative as it can affect your psychological standards. Try to have a positive desire all the time.
Medical supervision: Consult to a doctor and discuss with him about your desire. He or she will obviously help you. There are many medical needs which you need to have twin babies. So your doctor will help you with proper guidance at the time of pregnancy. Medical supervision increases the chance to double. There are many medicines which are essential for your body at that time. So don't ever hide the decision from your doctor.


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USA Cycling Para-Cycling National Championships 2017
USA Cycling Para-Cycling National Championships 2017 to be held in Grand Junction, Colorado!
Colorado Mesa University was selected to be the host school for the 2017 USA Cycling Collegiate National Road Championships. As if that wasn't exciting enough, Grand Junction will also host the Para-Cycling National Championships, in conjunction with the collegiate event. What a year 2017 will be for cycling enthusiasts here in our Grand Valley and those spectators who travel from out of town to take in these two events!
The Para-Cycling Championship will include a time trial, road race, and criterium. The events will be held April 27th – 30th, 2017. The Grand Junction Cycling Community, Colorado Mesa University, and Cycling CME are excited for the arrival of these elite athletes. The Western Slope of Colorado is a beautiful gem of a place to ride!
For more information on these two anticipated events, and the dates for our 2017 Cycling CME Conferences, check out the following links:
Grand Junction to host two National USA Cycling Events
Cycling CME 2017 Conferences for Medical Providers
Cycling CME


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Multi-level marketing is one of the most amazing businesses to start since it allows you to target and acquire the right target audience your product or service and thus allows you to determine your own level of income. Determining which system to use will depend on what you aim to achieve so it could be either fully automated or semi-automated. You do have a choice on which type and style to use but you still have to figure out which one works best for your target audience. This only means that you put the needs of your customers before yours.
There're various systems you can implement for your website and they're not determined by which host your site or platform uses. First and foremost, you will need to design and implement an MLM business plan. With this you will need to first determine the kind of content that is suitable for your target audience since their demographics will play a major role in the final design of the system. For some people they're not so conversant with technology so a simple one would be good for them and it even could be something quick and easy to set up for you as well.
The layout should also be easy and interactive so that the subscribers are able to relate easily and you can make the back pages a bit complex like most network marketers do. You should also consider the cost of setting up and designing the system since it could either be from premium features given by the providers or you may find affordable apps to help with your MLM business. Whichever type you choose, there are particular features you may struggle with. However, the system has to encompass a strong customer relationship management program that will be feeding into emails and social media outlets. The customer relationship management program should also allow you to follow your contacts more easily.
With the design factor, your strategy has to be the one driving the technology and not the other way around. This means that a digital strategy would probably require a mobile, search engine plans to be put in place and a content development. When it comes to troubleshooting your MLM systems, then it will depend on whether you picked an automated or semi-automated one. For the automated one you should begin with your call to actions or the content. Sometimes you may have a problem with delivery of your content or channels while other times a form on the website will fail because of a HTML problem. Other times it will be a website plugin issue or an extension breaking within the process. All these can be solved by checking the software for updates first and regularly then proceeding to do your other functions.
If used in the correct way MLM systems can go a long way in ensuring that you create your own brand and stand out in the crowd, lets you select your own target audience and grant you the ability of creating your own landing pages that will help you relate more easily with your network.


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Have you guys seen Bass Coast's bangin' line-up for this year? It is the gathering of BC's local electro talent. For anyone who didn't get a chance to attend last year's annual celebration of art & music in beautiful Merritt, BC, you can get a sense of the vibe in my recap here. Since doing my BC festival circuit in the summer of 2014 I've had a few people ask me what festivals I consider essential… Bass Coast tops the list every time. Capping its attendance at 3000 people, Bass Coast offers a mature and intimate atmosphere, with world-class audio/visuals and smooth logistics to boot. Camp by your car and cool down in the trickling river that runs through the venue, a sunny oasis just 2 1/2 hours out of Vancity. Join forces with any of the open & expressive attendees. Soak in the sun with a cold-pressed juice or laze about in a hammock among the trees… the choice is yours. See you there!
Tag Archives: british columbia
Bass Coast 2015
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Tagged bass coast, british columbia, Music Festival


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I went to Babies R Us to pick out a new carseat for my 19-month-old son.
THEN I went to TARGET! Ummm...yes, please! Love that place. Of course I stopped at the Dollar Bins since they were right near the front door. And LOOK what I found! Are these dice not the cutest?!?!?! And they're large dice, too.
And then they had these adorable pink dice! Yes! I love pink! Let's just say I'm PUMPED about my February Math Centers!
And I found 2 poetry books. I don't have an overabundance of poetry in my library, so I snagged a copy of each of these. And even though it says "Ages 3+" it's definitely not too easy!
I think I win this Target trip! So hurry if you have one nearby...I've heard the dice are going quick! :)


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Our continuing vision for the Molecular Imaging Program at Stanford (MIPS) has been to bring molecular imaging technologies to basic science cancer researchers – to create an environment in which non-invasive imaging technologies that permit longitudinal studies of tumor initiation, progression, metastasis and response to therapy would be adopted by basic scientists studying cancer. Within the MIPS program, we continue to develop animal models of cancer in which molecular imaging adds new dimensions to experimental design and allows investigators to acquire time-dependent data that could not be obtained in any other way. The MIPS program is supported by numerous funding sources, including the National Institutes of Health, multiple foundations, and strong industry partnerships. Since the inception of MIPS (2003), we have followed a clearly defined roadmap toward translating our work into clinical use to benefit patients.
News & Events
Recent News
Dr. Daldrup-Link Received 2019 CMR Harry Fisher Award
November 12, 2019…
MIPS Research Featured on Cover of Clinical Anatomy
October 22, 2019…
Dr. Joseph Wu Elected to National Academy of Medicine
October 21, 2019…
Knottin Peptide PET Tracer Detects IPF
October 15, 2019…


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High-speed video cameras aren't cheap. That's a common understanding in video production today, which is what gates the use of extreme slow-motion footage to productions that can afford or have access to professional high-speed camera equipment. In the consumer market, it's true that we're seeing more cameras dip their toes into high-speed recording--notably the iPhone 5S with 120fps recording at 720p and the GoPro Hero 3 with up to 240fps at 480p. And yes, the natural motion of everyday subjects (read: cats, dogs, and babies) look delightful when slowed down by four or eight times their normal speed. But if you want to catch the popping of a balloon or measure the ballistics of a bullet, that's the realm of $100,000+ cameras made by companies like Vision Research and Photron.
But why are these professional high-speed cameras so expensive? And is there a way to make that tech more affordable? Those were the questions posed by Mike Matter and his collaborators in the founding of the bay area startup Edgertronic. Through a (just funded) Kickstarter project, Edgertronic is attempting to democratize professional-grade high-speed videography with its eponymous camera, priced at a reasonable $5,000. A high-end "microscope for time", finally within relative reach.
I visited Mike over the weekend to check out the latest build of the Edgertronic camera and get a demo of it in action. You'll find sample videos below. But more importantly, I wanted to learn the answers to the same why's that Mike and Edgertronic are posing to this exclusive high-end market. The first step: understanding how a high-speed video camera actually works.
At its core, a high-speed video camera is a lot of any typical video camera, which in today's terms is not much different than a digital still camera. That means it captures light passed through a optical lens onto a digital sensor, passing that light data through circuitry to an image processor, and then storing the resulting digital image information on some kind of memory. Sensor, processor, and memory are the essential electronic components to any digital camera, and the type of quality of each factor into what kind of photo or video you're able to record. Standard video recording, for example, requires a sensor with photodiodes that are able to read light data at a rate of over 30 times a second, and a processor that is fast enough to render that data into a video and store it to memory. Fortunately, for today's technology, 30Hz recording of high-resolution video is simple and cheap. But when a camera sensor is required to record light at five or ten thousand times a second, and pass that data to a processor at a rate of several hundred megapixels a second, commodity hardware isn't going to cut it.
Except, off-the-shelf technology is exactly what makes Edgertronic's high-speed camera work. Instead of spending millions to develop their own sensor and processor, Mike and his team looked to components they could readily buy--the trick was finding the right balance of image sensor and processor to suit the needs of high-speed video recording. They ended up with three options for sensors, and ended up choosing a 18x14mm CMOS sensor--roughly the size of APS-C--that accounts for almost half the cost of the camera. It wasn't the fastest sensor available, but had two characteristics that made it ideal for Edgertronic's needs: big pixels and a global shutter.
You can think of a digital camera sensor as a grid of pixels, each a photodiode receptor that's able to capture light data. A general rule of thumb is that the larger the physical size of these pixels, the more light can be captured, which leads to images with lower noise and better dynamic range. Two primary factors determine the pixel size: the overall size of the sensor, and the number of pixels on it. Manufacturers can design sensors to vary these factors to optimize for pixel size, which is how Apple made a big deal about the iPhone 5S's 8MP sensor having 1.5 micron-wide pixels. Edgertronic's camera sensor, the size of sensors found in entry-level DSLRs, only has a resolution of 1280x1024--paltry by still image standards, but enough for 720p video. But that also means its pixels are a massive 14 microns wide. That kind of light sensitivity is crucial to high-speed video recording because of the other critical video recording factor: shutter speed.
When we talk about a video's frame rate, that's referring to the capability of the sensor to store and pass along light data and the image processor's ability to record those frames to a video file. But also essential to video recording is how much light is allowed to fall onto the sensor for each frame, a factor measured in fractions of second. What gates this duration is the camera's shutter. On a still camera, like a DSLR, a physical mechanical shutter flips at a very high speed to allow a very specific duration of light to hit the sensor. (On high-end DSLRs, very fast shutters are achieved using a combination of mechanical and electronic shutters). Video camera sensors have electronic shutters--extra circuitry on the sensor that relieves the charge of each pixel at extremely quick intervals to "turn off" the light reception capabilities of that pixel at a predetermined rate. The challenge for CMOS sensors is that most use "rolling" shutters, meaning that the pixels are discharged linearly, row by row. Consequently, rolling shutters are susceptible to image artifacts like skewed or wobbly objects for objects in fast motion, which makes them unsuitable for high-speed recording.
A global electronic shutter, on the other hand, discharges all the pixels at once, which gives each pixel on the sensor a consistent amount of light exposure per frame. The CMOS sensor that Edgertronic is using is that type of sensor, rated at a maximum speed of 1/200,000 seconds.
Of course, there is other important technology that goes into making a high-speed camera. Edgertronic credits its competitive advantage to its engineers' ability to efficiently pair the sensor and processor hardware with good electronics design and FPGA code on its custom board. The data rates that come from a high-speed camera sensor are extremely fast, and according to Mike, the challenge is optimizing for that data load with as little overhead or noise as possible. This engineering--which goes way over my head--is the real secret sauce that allows Edgertronic's camera to work.
And work it does. Mike took me to his backyard, where he set up a demo of the camera. I got to examine the latest Edgertronic design, which is an impressively barebones design. If the idea was to pare the camera to its essentials, Edgertronic has done a good job. The aluminum chassis that houses two electronics boards is lightweight, with ports on the back and a Photodiox lens adapter on the front. Edgertronic is compatible with Nikon F-mount lenses (approximately 2x crop factor), a design decision informed by the wide availability of Nikkor lenses with manual aperture rings. There are two quarter-inch tripod mounts on the sides of the camera, and the body is designed to act as a heatsink with a small fan for active cooling. The camera is almost button-less, with only a tiny button to initiate a hard reset. Controls and the camera's live-view are operated through the Chrome web browser on a tethered computer, in this case a MacBook. There's no HDMI or SDI video out--additions deemed unnecessary to the scope of this camera, and would have only added additional costs and overhead.
From the web browser window (where the live view plays with a low latency delay and at around 7-10fps), you're able to adjust the recording settings of the camera. The settings are listed in order of desired importance, and will automatically fill in the maximum allowed values for some entries depending on what you've chosen for others. Because of the data-processing limits of the camera system, configuring high-speed video recording is a matter of trade-offs. You have to find a balance of video resolution and frame rate.
At the max resolution of 1280x1024, the highest frame rate the Edgertronic can record at is 494fps. And with the max frame rate of 17,791fps, the highest-resolution you can record is 192x96 pixels. For the HD resolution of 1280x720, 700fps is the cap--already far superior to what the Sony FS700 prosumer camera can do. I think that the sweet spot for the Edgertronic is 640x360 resolution (standard for web video), at over 2,000fps. Interestingly enough, because of the way sensor data is processed, increases in horizontal resolution (how tall a video is) have a bigger impact on performance than increasing vertical resolution (how wide a video is).
Another operational consideration is that finding focus with the Edgertronic may be more difficult that other cameras with built-in LCD displays. Manual focus using the lens ring worked just fine for the demos, but the software doesn't yet have any focus assistance tools like edge detection--you have to play it all by eye.
Like high-end high-speed cameras, Edgertronic allows for pre, post and mid triggers of video capture. 8GB of DRAM buffer records up to 8 seconds of video (also a function of resolution and frame rate), so when you hit the capture button on either the software control or a wired physical trigger, the camera can encode to video an event after the fact.
Encoding and record speed is comparable to that of a camera like the FS700, at a rate of 60 frames per second. So for example, if the camera captured one second of 1000fps video for a total of 1000 frames of footage, that video would take about 17 seconds to encode (1000frames divided by 60 frames per second) and store to the SD card. I was told that the H.264 encoding is currently set for a variable bitrate averaging 20-30 mbits/second and tuned for i-frame interval encoding. These are settings that users will be able to adjust in the future, too.
In terms of video quality, Edgertronic's output looks really good, especially at resolutions of 640x480 and higher. The 700fps video recorded at 720p is crisp and detailed, and the high shutter speed removed any blur so each frame is as sharp as the next--important for academic purposes. Even the 5,000fps video recorded at 288x288 looked usable when stretched out. At 17,000 frames per second, the low res video looked about as good as the 960fps video we shot with the FS700 last year, but the framerate was high enough to let me see exactly how a balloon tears apart from being overblown. Edgertronic can't compete with cameras that can record full 1080p or 720p at over 2000fps, and its sensor maxes out at 400 ISO, but it's mighty impressive for a camera that's less than 1/20th the cost of what's used by Zack Snyder or The Slo Mo guys.
Edgertronic's target market isn't necessarily Hollywood, though. As Mike tells it, his goal is to get these cameras into the hands of hobbyists and independent filmmakers--people who otherwise wouldn't otherwise dream of having access to this tool. The idea is to make high-speed video--real high-speed video--more attainable to the masses. It's the law of the instrument: put a high-speed camera in everyone's hands and we all start seeing the world differently.
Test 1: 700fps, 1280x720, ISO 200, Shutter 1/5000s
Test 2: 5000fps, 288x288, ISO 200, Shutter 1/6000s
Test 3: 17,791fps, 192x96, ISO 200, Shutter 1/22000s


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On February 26, Chief Tuck was patrolling on the Lafayette Road. He had already been notified of a stolen 2008 Nissan Altima in Trousdale County and also a car tag that had been taken from Sonic in Lafayette, when he observed the vehicle in question sitting at the RBS Market gas pumps. He contacted dispatch to verify the tag number and he determined it was the tag taken from Sonic.
The chief approached the vehicle and it was occupied by two female suspects, Chelsea Smith and Latosha Flashner, and he briefly spoke with them concerning the vehicle. He verified from the VIN number that it was the vehicle that was taken from Trousdale County.
The two women were detained and Trousdale County was notified.
Chief Tuck and Officer Kyle Petty, with the Macon County Sheriffs Office, transported the two female suspects to the Macon County Justice Center where they were booked.
Smith was charged with theft (up to $500) and theft of property ($1,000-$10,000). She also faces several charges from 2014 including possession of a Schedule II drug, possession of a Schedule III drug, possession of drug paraphernalia, public intoxication, and criminal trespass.
Latosha Flashner was charged with theft of property ($1,000-$10,000) and theft (up to $500). She also faces charges from 2014 including evading arrest flight-vehicle, and vehicles /street cars stop at all stop signs.
The cases against Chelsea Smith and Latosha Flashner have both been continued.
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There's supposed to be some gigantic announcement coming from the astronomy community today at noon. I think we've been burned by the hype a few times before (arsenic life, anyone?), but Sean Carroll thinks this might actually be a significant discovery about Gravitational Waves in the Cosmic Microwave Background. I had no idea what that meant — I'm a biologist, dammit — but Carroll gives a darn good explanation for why it matters. It has cosmological implications about the Big Bang and inflation.
Go read it yourself so that when the announcement comes down and everyone is looking baffled, you can nod sagely and explain to everyone around you what it means.


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Do Celebrity Endorsements Of Political Candidates Move The Needle?
Earlier this month, Taylor Swift ended her practice of not talking politics, and took to Instagram to formally endorse two Democratic candidates in her home state of Tennessee.
She is, of course, not the first celebrity to let fans know which candidates they support or oppose, and the decision to get involved in politics always carries risks for actors, musicians, athletes and other celebrities.
To talk about this, Gwen Nisbett, an associate professor at the University of North Texas School of Journalism, joined The Show.
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I'm writing this post about the upcoming midterm elections on November 6th, in which I'll be voting in the state of Tennessee. In the past I've been reluctant to publicly voice my political opinions, but due to several events in my life and in the world in the past two years, I feel very differently about that now. I always have and always will cast my vote based on which candidate will protect and fight for the human rights I believe we all deserve in this country. I believe in the fight for LGBTQ rights, and that any form of discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender is WRONG. I believe that the systemic racism we still see in this country towards people of color is terrifying, sickening and prevalent. I cannot vote for someone who will not be willing to fight for dignity for ALL Americans, no matter their skin color, gender or who they love. Running for Senate in the state of Tennessee is a woman named Marsha Blackburn. As much as I have in the past and would like to continue voting for women in office, I cannot support Marsha Blackburn. Her voting record in Congress appalls and terrifies me. She voted against equal pay for women. She voted against the Reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act, which attempts to protect women from domestic violence, stalking, and date rape. She believes businesses have a right to refuse service to gay couples. She also believes they should not have the right to marry. These are not MY Tennessee values. I will be voting for Phil Bredesen for Senate and Jim Cooper for House of Representatives. Please, please educate yourself on the candidates running in your state and vote based on who most closely represents your values. For a lot of us, we may never find a candidate or party with whom we agree 100% on every issue, but we have to vote anyway. So many intelligent, thoughtful, self-possessed people have turned 18 in the past two years and now have the right and privilege to make their vote count. But first you need to register, which is quick and easy to do. October 9th is the LAST DAY to register to vote in the state of TN. Go to vote.org and you can find all the info. Happy Voting!


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This past weekend after the Finale for the hit show 'The Walking Dead', on the talk show 'Talking Dead" Daryl Dixon revealed to the audience and viewers at home his zombie killing crossbows he has been using throughout the show to kill zombies. The crossbow he used for most of the show was the Horton Scout 125 HD. This entry level crossbow is used by Daryl Dixon through out the majority of the show. Later in the show he uses a different crossbow. Daryl revealed this crossbow was his Stryker Strykezone 380, a beast of a crossbow! In Season 3, Episode 12 'Clear', a Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow was taken from Morgan's safe house by Michonne. Later on in Season 3 Episode 13 "Arrow on the Doorpost", Daryl replaces his Horton Scout 125 HD with the Stryker Strykezone 380 Crossbow.
These weapons are excellent for both hunting and taking down Walkers without attracting too much attention. With re-usable ammunition it's less of a waste on resources than firearms. It's quiet enough that I could bring down dozens of squirrels and even a deer without attracting the attention of the Walkers.


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As you visit National Parks, making memories, it's always fun to bring some memories home to share with family and friends. To that end, the National Park Service created the Passport To Your National Parks Program in 1986. It consists of the passport and companion books, and a new set of interpretive stamps every year. Proceeds from the purchase of passport related-materials are donated to help protect the parks and educate visitors.
For a complete list of more than 1,000 National Park Service Cancellation Station Locations, download the pdf at the Official Online Store of America's National Parks. Smart phone apps available from the Google Play and iTunes stored include a Cancellation Station map and other features. When you visit the places on the list, be sure to get your Passport cancelled with the site's rubber-stamp ink marking that includes the name of the park and the date you visited.
Using your downloaded Cancellation Station list, and the National Park Service's Lewis and Clark Interactive Trail Atlas, you can map your Lewis and Clark exploration through Freedom's Frontier in Missouri and Kansas. Make sure to add Freedom's Frontier Partner site Lewis and Clark Historic Park at Kaw Point to your itinerary.
The National Park Service's Web site also has some Interactive Passport Stamp maps that help you plan a trip around cancellation stations on themes, such as this one for the Pony Express National Historic Trail. And even though the Pony Express National Museum in St. Joseph, Missouri, is not on the historic trail, and doesn't have a passport stamp, you could still pay a visit to this Freedom's Frontier National Heritage Area Partner site along the way.
Some Partners in Freedom's Frontier do have Cancellation Stations:
Brown v Board of Education National Historic Site, Topeka
Fort Scott National Historic Site, Fort Scott
Harry S Truman National Historic Site and Visitor Center, Independence (California Trail, Oregon Trail)
Harry S Truman National Historic Site and Farm Home, Grandview
The sites listed above, and many other Places to See in the heritage area, can also be found on our Web site.


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Topic Page: Ptolemaic system
1 the theory of planetary motion developed by Ptolemy from the hypotheses of earlier philosophers, stating that the earth lay at the centre of the universe with the sun, the moon, and the known planets revolving around it in complicated orbits. Beyond the largest of these orbits lay a sphere of fixed stars See also epicycle (sense 1) Compare Copernican system
(tŏl´´Әmā'ĭk), historically the most influential of the geocentric cosmological theories, i.e., theories that placed the earth motionless at the center of the universe with all celestial bodies revolving around it (see cosmology). The system is named for the Greco-Egyptian astronomer Ptolemy (fl. 2d cent. A.D.); it dominated astronomy until the advent of the heliocentric Copernican system in the 16th cent.
The ancient philosophers imagined the universe to resemble a complex clockwork consisting of concentric crystalline spheres, nested inside one another, which carried the sun, moon, and planets in their motions and made the "music of the spheres" as they revolved. Professional astronomers did not claim that such a mechanism physically existed; rather, they treated it as the hypothetical basis for constructing geometrical schemes that would allow them to make accurate predictions of the motions and future positions of celestial bodies.
However, the motions of the planets against the stars are not uniform and circular but exhibit a host of irregularities. For a superior planet (Mars and those farther from the sun), the most important of these is the planet's retrograde motion at the time of opposition. The planet seems to halt and then reverse its motion for a few months, so that its complete circuit of the ecliptic is attended by a series of yearly loops or switchbacks.
Partly on aesthetic grounds and partly because no other hypothesis suggested itself, Ptolemy generally retained the semimystical Pythagorean belief that nothing but motion at constant speed in a perfect circle is worthy of a celestial body. He combined simple circular motions to explain the complicated wanderings of the planets against the background of the fixed stars. Ptolemy explained retrograde motion by assuming that each planet moved in a circle called an epicycle, whose center was in turn carried around the earth in a circular orbit called a deferent. Thus the motion of all the planets around the earth in the Ptolemaic system was somewhat similar to the motion that modern astronomy ascribes to the moon as it revolves around the earth while the earth itself is revolving around the sun. The fact that the inferior planets (Venus and Mercury) never stray far from the sun was explained by the provision that the centers of their epicycles always had to lie on the line connecting the earth and sun.
In the final version of his system Ptolemy modified the postulate of uniform motion in order to explain the variations in the apparent speeds of the planets. He found that these variations could be reproduced most conveniently by displacing the earth from the center of the deferent to a point called the eccentric. He then assumed that the motion of the center of the epicycle along the deferent appeared uniform, not from the center of the deferent or from the eccentric, but from a third point symmetrically displaced from the eccentric, called the equant. This modification was tantamount to abandoning the postulate of uniform motion. Ptolemy considered it more important to achieve a closer agreement with the observed astronomical data than to adhere to any preconceived first principles. His work thus anticipates the positivist spirit of modern empirical science, which makes no ontological claim for its constructs but merely asserts that nature behaves "as if" these constructs lay behind appearances.
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