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Savor the Moment
Book Three in the Bride Quartet
Nora Roberts - Author
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New Love takes the cake in the third novel in Nora Roberts's new Bride Quartet-in a stunning French flap editionChapter One
Wedding baker Laurel McBane is surrounded by romance working at Vows wedding planning company with her best friends Parker, Emma, and Mac. But she's too low-key to appreciate all the luxuries that their clients seem to long for. What she does appreciate is a strong, intelligent man, a man just like Parker's older brother Delaney, on whom she's had a mega-crush since childhood.
But some infatuations last longer than others, and Laurel is convinced that the Ivy League lawyer is still out of her reach. Plus, Del is too protective of Laurel to ever cross the line with her-or so she thinks. When Laurel's quicksilver moods get the better of her-leading to an angry, hot, all-together mind-blowing kiss with Del-she'll have to quiet the doubts in her mind to turn a moment of passion into forever...
Alone, with Norah Jones whispering through the iPod, Laurel transformed a panel of fondant into a swatch of elegant, edible lace. She didn't hear the music, used it more to fill the air than as entertainment while she painstakingly pieced the completed panel onto the second tier of four.
She stepped back to eye the results, to circle, to search for flaws. Vows' clients expected perfect, and that's exactly what she intended to deliver. Satisfied, she nodded, and picked up a bottle of water to sip while she stretched her back.
"Two down, two to go."
She glanced toward the board where she'd pinned various samples of antique lace, and the final sketched design for the cake Friday evening's bride had approved.
She had three more designs to complete: two for Saturday, one for Sunday—but that was nothing new. June at Vows, the weddinga nd event business she ran with her friends, was prime time.
In a handful of years, they'd turned an idea into a thriving enterprise. Sometimes just a little too thriving, she mused, which was why she was making fondant lace at nearly one in the morning.
It was a very good thing, she decided. She loved the work.
They all had their passions. Emma had the flowers, Mac the photography, Parker the details. And she had the cakes. And the pastries, she thought, and the chocolates. But the cakes stood as the crowning touch.
She got back to it, began to roll out the next panel. Following habit, she'd clipped her sunny blond hair up and back out of her way. Cornstarch dusted the baker's apron she wore over cotton pants and tee, and the slide-on kitchen shoes kept her feet as comfortable as possible after hours of standing. Her hands, strong from years of kneading, rolling, lifting, were capable and quick. As she began the next pattern, her sharp-featured, angular face set in serious lines.
Perfection wasn't simply a goal when it came to her art. For Icing at Vows it was a necessity. The wedding cake was more than baking and piping, sugar paste and filling. Just as the wedding photos Mac took were more than pictures, and the arrangements and bouquets Emma created more than flowers. The details and schedules and wishes Parker put together were, in the end, bigger than the sum of their parts.
Together, the elements became a once-in-a-lifetime event, and the celebration of the journey two people chose to make together.
Romantic, certainly, and Laurel believed in romance. In theory, anyway. More, she believed in symbols and celebrations. And in a really fabulous cake.
Her expression softened into pleasure as she completed the third tier, and her deep blue eyes warmed as she glanced over to see Parker hovering in the doorway.
"Why aren't you in bed?"
"Details." Parker circled a finger over her own head. "Couldn't settle. How long have you been at this tonight?"
"Awhile. I need to finish it so it can set overnight. Plus I have the two Saturday cakes to assemble and decorate tomorrow."
"Want company?"
They knew each other well enough that it was understood if Laurel said no, there'd be no off ense. And often, when deep in work, no was the answer.
"I love the design." Parker, as Laurel had, circled the cake. "The delicacy of the white on white, the interest of the diff erent heights of each tier—and the intricacy of each. They really do look like different panels of lace. Old-fashioned, vintage, that's our bride's theme. You've nailed it with this."
"We're going to do pale blue ribbon around the pedestal," Laurel said as she started on the next panel. "And Emma's going to scatter white rose petals at the base. It's going to be a winner."
"The bride's been good to work with."
Comfortable in her pajamas, her long brown hair loose rather than in its work mode of sleek tail or smooth chignon, Parker put on the kettle for tea. One of the perks of running the business out of her home, and of having Laurel living there—with Emma and Parker right on the estate as well—were these late-night visits.
"She knows her mind," Laurel commented, choosing a tool to scallop the edges of the panel. "But she's open to suggestion, and so far hasn't been insane. If she makes it through the next twenty-four that way, she'll definitely earn Vows' coveted Good Bride status."
"They looked happy and relaxed tonight at rehearsal, and that's a good sign."
"Mmm-hmm." Laurel continued the pattern with precisely placed eyelets and dots. "So, again, why aren't you in bed?"
Parker sighed as she heated a little teapot. "I think I was having a moment. I was unwinding with a glass of wine out on my terrace. I could see Mac's place, and Emma's. The lights were on in both houses, and I could smell the gardens. It was so quiet, so pretty. The lights went off —Emma's first, and a little while after, Mac's. I thought how we're planning Mac's wedding, and that Emma just got engaged. And all the times we played Wedding Day, the four of us, when we were kids. Now it's real. I sat there in the quiet and the dark, and found myself wishing my parents could be here to see it. To see what we've done here, and who we are now. I got stuck." She paused to measure out tea. "Between being sad they're gone and being happy because I know they'd be proud of me. Of us."
"I think about them a lot. We all do." Laurel continued to work. "Because they were such an essential part of our lives, and because there are so many memories of them here. So I know what you mean by being stuck."
"They'd get a kick out of Mac and Carter, out of Emma and Jack, wouldn't they?"
"Yeah, they would. And what we've done here, Parker? It rocks. They'd get a kick out of that, too."
"I'm lucky you were up working." Parker poured hot water into the pot. "You've settled me down."
"Here to serve. I'll tell you who else is lucky, and that's Friday's bride. Because this cake?" She blew stray hair out of her eyes as she nodded smugly. "It kicks major ass. And when I do the crown, angels will weep with joy."
Parker set the pot aside to steep. "Really, Laurel, you need to take more pride in your work."
Laurel grinned. "Screw the tea. I'm nearly done here. Pour me a glass of wine."
In the morning, after a solid six hours' sleep, Laurel got in a quick session at the gym before dressing for the workday. She'd be chained in her kitchen for the bulk of it, but before that routine began, there was the summit meeting that prefaced every event.
Laurel dashed downstairs from her third-floor wing to the main level of the sprawling house, and back to the family kitchen where Mrs. Grady was putting a fruit platter together.
"Morning, Mrs. G."
Mrs. Grady arched her eyebrows. "You look feisty."
"Feel feisty. Feel righteous." Laurel fisted both hands, flexed her muscles. "Want coff ee. Much."
"Parker's taken the coff ee up already. You can take this fruit, and the pastries. Eat some of that fruit. A day shouldn't start with a Danish."
"Yes, ma'am. Anyone else here yet?"
"Not yet, but I saw Jack's truck leave a bit ago, and I expect Carter will be along giving me the puppy eyes in hopes of a decent breakfast."
"I'll get out of the way." Laurel grabbed the platters, balancing them with the expertise of the waitress she'd been once upon a time.
She carried them up to the library, which now served as Vows' conference room. Parker sat at the big table, with the coff ee service on the breakfront. Her BlackBerry, as always, remained at easy reach. The sleek ponytail left her face unframed, and the crisp white shirt transmitted business mode as she sipped coff ee and studied data on her laptop with midnight blue eyes Laurel knew missed nothing.
"Provisions," Laurel announced. She set the trays down, then tucked her chin-length swing of hair behind her ears before she obeyed Mrs. Grady and fixed herself a little bowl of berries. "Missed you in the gym this morning. What time did you get up?"
"Six, which was a good thing, since Saturday afternoon's bride called just after seven. Her father tripped over the cat and may have broken his nose."
"She's worried about him, but nearly equally worried about how he's going to look for the wedding, and in the photographs. I'm going to call the makeup artist to see what she thinks can be done."
"Sorry about the FOB's bad luck, but if that's the biggest problem this weekend, we're in good shape."
Parker shot out a finger. "Don't jinx it."
Mac strolled in, long and lean in jeans and a black T-shirt. "Hello, pals of mine."
Laurel squinted at her friend's easy smile and slumberous green eyes. "You had morning sex."
"I had stupendous morning sex, thank you." Mac poured herself coff ee, grabbed a muffin. "And you?"
With a laugh, Mac dropped down in her chair, stretched out her legs. "I'll take my morning exercise over your treadmill and Bowflex."
"Mean, nasty bitch," Laurel said and popped a raspberry.
"I love summer when the love of my life doesn't have to get up and out early to enlighten young minds." She opened her own laptop. "Now I'm primed, in all possible ways, for business."
"Saturday afternoon's FOB may have broken his nose," Parker told her.
"Bummer." Mac's brow creased. "I can do a lot with Photoshop if they want me to—but it's kind of a cheat. What is, is—and it makes an amusing memory. In my opinion."
"We'll see what the bride's opinion is once he gets back from the doctor." Parker glanced over as Emma rushed in.
"I'm not late. There are twenty seconds left." Black curls bouncing, she scooted to the coff ee station. "I fell back to sleep. After."
"Oh, I hate you, too," Laurel muttered. "We need a new rule. No bragging about sex at business meetings when half of us aren't getting any."
"Seconded," Parker said immediately.
"Aww." Laughing, Emma scooped some fruit into a bowl.
"Saturday afternoon's FOB may have a broken nose."
"Aww," Emma repeated, with genuine concern at Mac's announcement.
"We'll deal with it when we have more details, but however it turns out, it really falls to Mac and me. I'll keep you updated," Parker said to Mac. "Tonight's event. All out-of-town attendants, relatives, and guests have arrived. The bride, the MOB, and the attendants are due here at three for hair and makeup. The MOG has her own salon date and is due by four, with the FOG. FOB will arrive with his daughter. We'll keep him happy and occupied until it's time for the formal shots that include him. Mac?"
"The bride's dress is a beaut. Vintage romance. I'll be playing that up."
As Mac outlined her plans and timetable, Laurel rose for a second cup of coff ee. She made notes here and there, continued to do so when Emma took over. As the bulk of Laurel's job was complete, she'd fill in when and where she was needed.
It was a routine they'd perfected since Vows had gone from concept to reality.
"Laurel," Parker said.
"The cake's finished—and a wowzer. It's heavy, so I'll need help from the subs transferring it to reception, but the design doesn't require any on-site assembly. I'll need you to do the ribbon and white rose petals, Emma, once it's transferred, but that's it until it's time to serve. They opted against a groom's cake, and went for a selection of mini pastries and heart-shaped chocolates. They're done, too, and we'll serve them on white china lined with lace doilies to mirror the design of the cake. The cake table linen is pale blue, eyelet lace. Cake knife and server, provided by the B and G. They were her grandmother's so we'll keep our eye on them.
"I'm going to be working on Saturday's cakes most of today, but should be freed up by four if anyone needs me. During the last set, the subs will put leftover cake in the take-away boxes and tie them with blue ribbon we've had engraved with the B and G's names, and the date. Same goes if there are any leftover chocolates or pastries. Mac, I'd like a picture of the cake for my files. I haven't done this design before."
"And Emma, I need the flowers for Saturday night's cake. Can you drop them off to me when you come to dress today's event?"
"No problem."
"On the personal front?" Mac lifted a hand for attention. "No one's mentioned that my mother's latest wedding is tomorrow, in Italy. Which is, thankfully, many, many miles away from our happy home here in Greenwich, Connecticut. I got a call from her just after five this morning, as Linda doesn't get the concept of time zones—and, well, let's face it, doesn't give a shit anyway."
"Why didn't you just let it ring?" Laurel demanded, even as Emma reached over to rub Mac's leg in sympathy.
"Because she'd just keep calling back—and I'm trying to deal with her. On my terms for a change." Mac raked her fingers through the bold red of her gamine cap of hair. "There were, as expected, tears and recriminations, as she's decided she wants me there. As opposed to a week ago, when she didn't. Since I have no intention of hopping on a plane, particularly when I have an event tonight, two tomorrow, and another on Sunday, to see her get married for the fourth time, she's not speaking to me."
"If only it would last."
"Laurel," Parker murmured.
"I mean it. You got to give her a piece of your mind," she reminded Parker. "I didn't. I can only let it fester."
"Which I appreciate," Mac said. "Sincerely. But as you can see, I'm not in a funk, I'm not swimming in guilt or even marginally pissed off . I think there's an advantage to finding a guy who's sensible, loving, and just really solid. An advantage over and above really terrific morning sex. Every one of you has been on my side when I've had to deal with Linda, you've tried to help me through her demands and basic insanity. I guess Carter just helped tip the scales, and now I can deal with it. I wanted to tell you."
"I'd have morning sex with him myself, just for that."
"Hands off , McBane. But I appreciate the sentiment. So." She rose. "I want to get some work done before I need to focus on today's event. I'll swing by and get some shots of the cake."
"Hang on, I'll go with you." Emma pushed up. "I'll be back with the team shortly—and I'll drop the flowers off for you, Laurel."
When they'd gone, Laurel sat another moment. "She really meant it."
"Yes, she really did."
"And she's right." Laurel took a last moment to sit back and relax with her coff ee. "Carter's the one who turned the key in the lock. I wonder what it's like to have a man who can do that, can help that way without pushing. Who can love you that way. I guess when it comes down to it, I envy her that even more than the sex."
Shrugging, Laurel rose. "I'd better get to work."
Laurel didn't have time to think about men over the next couple of days. She didn't have the time or the energy to think about love and romance. She might have been neck-deep in wed- dings, but that was business—and the business of weddings demanded focus and precision.
Her Antique Lace cake, which had taken her nearly three days to create, had its moment in the spotlight—before being disassembled and devoured. Saturday afternoon featured her whimsical Pastel Petals with its hundreds of embossed, gum-paste rose petals, and Saturday evening her Rose Garden, where tiers of bold red roses layered with tiers of vanilla-bean cake with silky buttercream frosting.
For Sunday afternoon's smaller, more casual event, the bride had chosen Summer Berries. Laurel had done the baking, the filling, the assembly, and the basket-weave frosting. Now, even as the bride and groom exchanged vows on the terrace outside, Laurel completed the project by arranging the fresh fruit and mint leaves on the tiers.
Behind her, the subs completed table decorations for the wedding brunch. She wore a baker's apron over a suit nearly the same color as the raspberries she selected.
Stepping back, she studied the lines and balance, then chose a bunch of champagne grapes to drape over a tier.
"Looks tasty."
Her eyebrows drew together as she grouped stemmed cherries. Interruptions while she worked were common—but that didn't mean she had to like them. Added to it, she hadn't expected Parker's brother to drop by during an event.
Then again, she reminded herself, he came and went as he pleased.
But when she spotted his hand reaching for one of her containers, she slapped it smartly away.
"Hands off ."
"Like you're going to miss a couple blackberries."
"I don't know where your hands have been." She set a trio of mint leaves, and didn't bother—yet—to spare him a glance. "What do you want? We're working."
"Me, too. More or less. Lawyer capacity. I had some paperwork to drop off ."
He handled all their legal dealings, both individually and as a business. She knew, very well, he put in long hours on their behalf, and often on his own time. But if she didn't jab at him, she'd break long-standing tradition.
"And timed it so you could mooch from catering."
"There ought to be some perks. Brunch deal?"
She gave in and turned. His choice of jeans and a T-shirt didn't make him less of an Ivy League lawyer—not to her mind. Delaney Brown of the Connecticut Browns, she thought. Tall, appealingly rangy, his dense brown hair just a smidgen longer than lawyerly fashion might dictate.
Did he do that on purpose? She imagined so, as he was a man who always had a plan. He shared those deep, midnight blue eyes with Parker, but though she'd known him all her life, she could rarely read what was behind them.
He was, in her opinion, too handsome for his own good, too smooth for anyone else's. He was also unflinchingly loyal, quietly generous—and annoyingly overprotective.
He smiled at her now, quick and easy with a disarming flash of humor she imagined served as a lethal weapon in court. Or the bedroom.
"Cold poached salmon, mini chicken florentine, grilled summer vegetables, potato pancakes, a variety of quiches, caviar with full accompaniment, assorted pastries and breads, along with a fruit and cheese display, followed by the poppy-seed cake with orange marmalade filling and Grand Marnier buttercream frosting, topped with fresh fruit."
"Sign me up."
"I expect you can sweet-talk the caterers," she said. She rolled her shoulders, circled her head on her neck as she chose the next berries.
"Something hurt?"
"The basket weave's a killer on the neck and shoulders."
His hands lifted, then retreated to his pockets. "Are Jack and Carter around?"
"Somewhere. I haven't seen them today."
"Maybe I'll go hunt them down."
But he wandered across the room to the windows and looked down at the flower-decked terrace, the white slippered chairs, the pretty bride turned toward the smiling groom.
"They're doing the ring thing," Del called out.
"So Parker just told me." Laurel tapped her headset. "I'm set. Emma, the cake's ready for you."
She balanced the top layer with an off set stem loaded with blackberries. "Five-minute warning," she announced, and began loading her bin with the remaining fruit. "Let's get the champagne poured, the Bloody Marys and mimosas mixed. Light the candles, please." She started to lift the bin, but Del beat her to it.
"I'll carry it."
She shrugged, and moved over to hit the switch for the background music that would play until the orchestra took over.
They started down the back stairs, passing uniformed waitstaff on their way up with hors d'oeuvres for the brief cocktail mixer designed to keep guests happy while Mac took the formals of the bride and groom, the wedding party and family.
She swung into her kitchen where the caterers ran full steam. Used to the chaos, Laurel slid through, got a small bowl and scooped out fruit. She passed it to Del.
"Just stay out of the way. Yes, they're ready," she said to Parker through the headset. "Yeah, in thirty. In place." She glanced over at the caterers. "On schedule. Oh, Del's here. Uh-huh."
Leaning on the counter and eating berries, he watched her as she stripped off her apron. "Okay, heading out now."
Del pushed off the counter to follow her as she headed through the mudroom that would soon be transformed into her extra cooler and storage area. She pulled the clip out of her hair, tossed it aside, and shook her hair into place as she stepped outside.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm going to help escort guests inside. You're going away, somewhere."
"I like it here."
It was her turn to smile. "Parker said to get rid of you until it's time to clean up. Go find your little friends, Del, and if you're good boys you'll be fed later."
"Fine, but if I get roped into cleanup, I want some of that cake."
They separated, him strolling toward the remodeled pool house that served as Mac's studio and home, her striding toward the terrace, where the bride and groom exchanged their first married kiss.
Laurel glanced back once—just once. She'd known him all her life—that was fate, she supposed. But it was her own fault, and her own problem, that she'd been in love with him nearly as long.
She allowed herself one sigh before fixing a bright, professional smile on her face to lend a hand herding the celebrants into Reception.Chapter 2
Long after the last guest departed and the caterers loaded up, Laurel stretched out on the sofa of the family parlor with a well-deserved glass of wine.
She wasn't sure where the men might be—back to their dens with a six-pack maybe—but it was nice, very nice, to unwind with just the women, and the relative quiet.
"Damn good weekend." Mac lifted her glass in toast. "Four rehearsals, four events. Not a single hitch in any of them. Not even a blip of a hitch. That's a record."
"The cake was amazing," Emma added.
"You had a forkful," Laurel pointed out.
"An amazing forkful. Plus it was just sweet today, the way the groom's little boy stood as best man. He was so cute. It got me weepy."
"They're going to make a nice family." Parker sat, eyes closed, BlackBerry on her lap. "You watch some of the second-time- arounds with kids, and think: Ho boy, rough sailing coming up. But this? You can just see she and the kid are nuts for each other. It was sweet."
"I got some killer pictures. And the cake was awesome," Mac added. "Maybe I should go for the poppy seed for mine."
To ease the cramping, Laurel curled and uncurled her toes.
"Last week you wanted the Italian cream."
"Maybe I should have cake samplers. Small versions of several kinds, diff erent designs. It would be a culinary orgy, plus amazing photography."
Laurel cocked a finger. "Die, Mackensie. Die."
"You should stick with the Italian cream. It's your favorite."
Mac pursed her lips as she nodded at Emma. "You're right. And it is all about me. What are you leaning toward, cakewise?"
"I can't even think about it. I'm still getting used to being engaged." Emma studied the diamond on her finger with an undeniably smug smile. "Plus, once I shift into wedding plans and details, I fully expect to succumb to mania. So we should put that off as long as possible."
"Yes, please." Laurel sighed her agreement.
"You need the dress first anyway." Parker kept her eyes closed. "The dress always comes first."
"Now you've done it," Laurel muttered.
"I've barely thought about it. More than a thousand times," Emma added. "I've hardly looked at more than half a million pictures. I'm going for princess. Miles and miles of skirt. Probably an off -the-shoulder bodice, maybe a sweetheart neckline since I do have exceptional breasts."
"It's true, you do," Mac agreed.
"Absolutely nothing simple. Lavish is my byword. I want a tiara— and a train." Dark eyes glowed at the thought. "And since we're squeezing it into next May, I'm going to design myself an incredible, and yes, lavish, bouquet. Pastels, I think. Maybe. Probably. Romantic, heartbreaking pastels."
"But she can't even think about it," Laurel put in.
"All of you in soft colors," Emma went on, unfazed. "A garden of my friends." She let out a sigh of her own, long and dreamy. "And when Jack sees me, he'll lose his breath. In that one moment, you know, when we look at each other, the world's going to stop for us. Just for a minute, one incredible minute."
From her position on the floor, she rested her head against Parker's leg. "We didn't really know, all those times we played Wedding Day when we were kids. We didn't really know what that one incredible moment meant. We're so lucky we get to see it as often as we do."
"Best job ever," Mac murmured.
"Best job ever because we are." Laurel sat up enough to toast. "We put it together so people can have that one incredible moment. You'll have yours, Em—orchestrated down to the last detail by Parker, surrounded with flowers you've arranged yourself, captured in a photograph by Mac. And celebrated with a cake I'll create just for you. A lavish one. Guaranteed."
"Aww." Emma's dark eyes filled. "As much as I love Jack—and boy, do I ever—I couldn't be as happy as I am now without all of you."
Mac handed Emma a tissue. "I'm still first. I want a cake that's just for me," she said to Laurel. "If she gets one, so do I."
"I can put little cameras and tripods around the tiers."
"And little stacks of books for Carter?" Mac laughed. "Silly, but apt."
"It follows the theme of your engagement shots." Emma dried her eyes. "I love the way you set those up, with you and Carter on the couch, your legs all tangled together, him with a book on his lap, you looking like you've just lowered your camera after taking his picture. Both of you just grinning at each other. Which leads me to ask you about our engagement portrait. When, where, how?"
"Easy. You and Jack in bed, naked." Emma shot out a foot to give Mac a light kick. "Stop."
"Also apt," was Laurel's opinion.
"We do more than have sex!"
"You certainly do. Y ou think about having sex." Parker opened one eye.
"We have a very layered relationship," Emma insisted. "Which includes lots of sex. But seriously—"
"I've got a few things in mind. We should look at our schedules and set something up."
"Sure. Parks must have both our schedules on her CrackBerry." Mac reached toward it.
Parker opened both eyes, aimed a smoldering warning stare. "Touch it and die."
"Jesus. Let's go check my book at the studio. We should probably round up the guys anyway—and we'd have to have Jack clear the time."
"Where are the guys?" Laurel wondered.
"Down with Mrs. G," Emma told her. "Eating pizza and playing poker—or that was the plan."
"Nobody asked us for pizza and poker." Laurel managed a horizontal shrug as eyes turned to her. "Okay, no, I don't want pizza and poker because I like it right here. But still."
"Anyway." Mac pushed to her feet. "Rounding up under the circumstances might take some time. Let's just plant the seed, then go figure the schedule."
"That's a plan. Good job, girls," Emma said as she stood. As they left, Laurel stretched. "I need a massage. We should have an in-house masseur named Sven. Or Raoul."
"I'll put that on the list. Meanwhile, you could call Serenity and book one."
"But if we had Sven—I think Sven is better than Raoul—I could have one right now, then I'd slide bonelessly into bed and sleep. How many days until vacation?"
"Too many."
"You say that now, but once we're free and get to the Hamptons, you'll still have that BlackBerry attached to your hand."
"I can give it up anytime I want."
Laurel answered Parker's smile. "You'll buy a waterproof bag for it, so you can swim with it."
"They should make them waterproof. We must have the technology."
"Well, I'm going to leave you and your one true love alone, go soak in a hot tub, and dream of Sven." Laurel rolled off the couch. "It's good seeing Emma and Mac so happy, isn't it?"
"See you in the morning."
The hot bath worked wonders, but left her wide awake instead of relaxed and sleepy. Rather than spending an hour trying to will herself to sleep, Laurel turned on the TV in her sitting room for company, then sat down at her computer to check her week's schedule. She browsed recipes—as much an addiction for her as the BlackBerry was to Parker—and found a couple worth bookmarking to tweak and personalize later.
Still restless, she settled down in her favorite chair with her sketch pad. The chair had been Parker's mother's, and always made Laurel feel cozy and safe. She sat cross-legged on the deep cushion, the pad across her lap, and thought of Mac. Of Mac and Carter. Of Mac in the fabulous wedding dress she'd chosen—or that Parker had found for her.
Clean, sleek lines, she mused, that so suited Mac's long, lean body. Not a lot of fuss, and just a touch of flirt. She sketched a cake that mirrored the idea—classic and simple. And immediately rejected it.
Clean lines for the gown, yes, but Mac was also about color and flash, about the unique and the bold. And that, she realized, was one of the reasons Carter adored her.
So bold. Colorful fall wedding. Square tiers rather than the more traditional round, with the buttercream frosting Mac favored. Tinted. Yes, yes. Dusky gold then covered with fall flowers—she'd make them oversized with wide, detailed petals—in russet and burnt orange, loden.
Color, texture, shape, to appeal to the photographer's eye, and romantic enough for any bride. Crowned with a bouquet, trailing ribbons in dark gold. Touches of white in some piping, to bring out all the color.
Mac's Fall, she thought, smiling as she added details. The perfect name for it—for the season, and for the way her friend had tripped into love.
Laurel held the sketch out to arm's length, then grinned in satisfaction.
"I am damn good. And now I'm hungry."
She rose to prop the open sketchbook against a lamp. First chance, she decided, she'd show it to Mac for the bride's opinion. But if she knew Mac—and she did—this was going to get a big, happy woo!
She deserved a snack—maybe a slice of cold pizza if there was any left. Which she'd regret in the morning, she told herself as she started out, but it couldn't be helped.
She was awake and she was hungry. One of the perks of running your own business and your own life was being able to indulge yourself from time to time.
She moved through the dark and the quiet, guided by her knowledge of the house and the stream of moonlight through the windows. She crossed out of her wing, started down the stairs as she talked herself out of cold pizza and into a healthier choice of fresh fruit and herbal tea.
She needed to be up early to fit in a workout before Monday morning baking. Then she had three couples coming in that afternoon for tastings, so she'd need to prep for that, and get cleaned up.
An evening meeting, full staff , with a client to determine basic details of a winter wedding, then she had the rest of the night free to do what needed to be done—or what suited her fancy.
Thank God she'd initiated a dating moratorium so there was no worry about getting dressed to go out—and what to wear when she did—making conversation, and deciding whether or not she was inclined to have sex.
Life was easier, she thought as she turned at the base of the stairs. It was easier, simpler, and just less fraught when you took dating and sex off the menu.
She rammed straight into a solid object—male-shaped—then tumbled backward. Cursing, she flailed out to save herself. The back of her hand smacked sharply against flesh—causing another curse that wasn't hers. As she went down, she grabbed a fistful of material. She heard it rip as the male-shaped solid object fell on top of her.
Winded, her head ringing where it thudded against the stair tread, she lay limp as a rag. Even dazed in the dark, she recognized Del by his shape, his scent.
"Jesus. Laurel? Damn it. Are you hurt?"
She drew in a breath, constricted by his weight—and maybe by the fact that a certain area of that weight was pressed very intimately between her legs. Why the hell had she been thinking about sex? Or the lack thereof ?
"Get off me," she managed.
"Working on it. Are you okay? I didn't see you." He pushed up partway so their eyes met in that blue dust moonlight. "Ouch."
Because his movement increased the pressure—center to center— something besides her head began to throb. "Off . Me. Now." "Okay, okay. I lost my balance—plus you grabbed my shirt and took me down with you. I tried to catch you. Hold on, let me get the light."
She stayed just where she was, waiting to get her breath back, waiting for things to stop throbbing. When he flicked on the foyer light, she shut her eyes against the glare.
"Ah," he said and cleared his throat.
She lay sprawled on the steps, legs spread, wearing a thin white tank and a pair of red boxers. Her toenails were sizzling pink. He decided concentrating on her toes was a better idea than her legs, or the way the tank fit, or . . . anything else.
"Let me help you up." And into a really long, thick robe. She waved him off , half sat up to rub at the back of her head. "Damn it, Del, what are you doing sneaking around the house?"
"I wasn't sneaking. I was walking. Why were you sneaking?"
"I wasn't— Jesus. I live here."
"I used to," he muttered. "You tore my shirt."
"You fractured my skull."
Annoyance dissolved instantly into concern. "Did I really hurt you? Let me see."
Before she could move, he crouched and reached around to feel the back of her head. "You went down pretty hard. It's not bleeding."
"Ouch!" At least the fresh ringing took her mind off the torn shirt, and the muscle beneath it. "Stop poking."
"We should get you some ice."
"It's fine. I'm fine." Stirred up, no question, she thought, and wishing he didn't look so tousled, roughed-up, and ridiculously sexy. "What the hell are you doing here? It's the middle of the night."
"It's barely midnight, which, despite the term, isn't the middle of the night."
He stared straight into her eyes, looking, she imagined, for signs of shock or trauma. Any second he'd take her damn pulse.
"That doesn't answer the question."
"Mrs. G and I were hanging out. There was beer involved. Enough beer I decided I'd just . . ." He pointed up. "I was going to crash in one of the guest rooms rather than drive home with a buzz on."
She couldn't argue with him for being sensible—particularly since he was always sensible. "Then . . ." She mimicked him, and pointed up.
"Stand up so I can make sure you're okay."
"I'm not the one with a buzz on."
"No, you're the one with a fractured skull. Come on." He solved the matter by hooking his hands under her arms and lifting her so she stood on the step above him with their faces nearly level.
"I don't see any X's in your eyes, no birds circling over your head."
He gave her that smile. "I heard a couple birds chirping when you backhanded me."
She couldn't stop her lips from twitching even as she scowled. "If I'd known it was you, I'd've put more behind it."
"There's my girl."
And wasn't that exactly how he thought of her? she thought with a slippery mix of temper and disappointment. Just one of his girls.
"Go, sleep off your buzz, and no more sneaking around."
"Where are you going?" he asked as she walked away.
"Where I please."
She usually did, he mused, and it was one of the most appealing things about her. Unless you considered how her ass looked in short red boxers.
Which he wasn't. Exactly. He was just making sure she was steady on her feet. And on her really excellent legs.
Deliberately, he turned away and walked up the stairs to the third floor. He turned toward Parker's wing, and opened the door to the room that had been his as a child, a boy, a young man.
It wasn't the same. He didn't expect it to be or want it to be. If things didn't change, they became stagnant and stale. The walls, a soft, foggy green now, displayed clever paintings in simple frames rather than the sports posters of his youth. The bed, a gorgeous old four-poster, had been his grandmother's. Continuity, he thought, wasn't the same as stagnation.
He pulled change and keys out of his pocket to toss them on the dish set on the bureau, then caught sight of himself in the mirror.
His shirt was ripped at the shoulder, his hair disordered, and if he wasn't mistaken, he could see the faint mark where Laurel's knuckles had connected with his cheekbone.
She'd always been tough, he thought as he toed off his shoes. Tough, strong, and damn near fearless. Most women would've screamed, wouldn't they? But not Laurel—she fought. Push her, she pushed back. Harder.
He had to admire that.
Her body had surprised him. He could admit it, he told himself as he stripped off the torn T-shirt. Not that he didn't know her body. He'd hugged her countless times over the years. But hugging a female friend was an entirely diff erent matter than lying on top of a woman in the dark.
Entirely diff erent.
And something it was best not to dwell on.
He stripped off the rest of his clothes, then folded down the quilt—the work of his great-grandmother in this case. He set the old-fashioned wind-up alarm clock beside the bed, then switched off the light.
When he closed his eyes, the image of Laurel lying on the stairs popped into his head—lodged there. He rolled over, thought about the appointments he had the next day. And saw her walking away in those brief red boxers.
"Screw it."
A man was entitled to dwell on whatever he wanted to dwell on when he was alone in the dark.
In their Monday morning habit, Laurel and Parker hit their home gym at nearly the same moment. Parker went for yoga, Laurel for cardio. Since both took the routine seriously, there was little conversation.
As Laurel approached her third mile, Parker switched to pilates— and Mac trudged in to give the Bowflex her usual sneer.
Amused, Laurel throttled back to cool down. Mac's conversion to regular workouts stemmed from her determination to have happening arms and shoulders in her strapless wedding dress.
"Looking good, Elliot," she called out as she grabbed a towel. Mac just curled her lip.
Laurel unrolled a mat to stretch while Parker gave Mac some tips on form. By the time she moved on to free weights, Parker was shoving Mac to the elliptical.
"I don't wanna."
"Woman does not rule by resistance training alone. Fifteen cardio, fifteen stretching. Laurel, where did you get that bruise?"
"What bruise?"
"On your shoulder." Crossing over, Parker fluttered her finger on the bruise exposed by Laurel's racer-back tank.
"Oh, I tripped under your brother."
"He was wandering around in the dark when I went down for some tea—which ended up being cold pizza and a soda. He ran into me and knocked me down."
"Why was he wandering around in the dark?"
"My question exactly. Beers and Mrs. G. He crashed in one of the guest rooms."
"I didn't know he was here."
"Still here," Mac said. "His car's out front."
"I'll see if he's up. Fifteen minutes, Mac."
"Nag. When do I get my endorphins?" Mac demanded of Laurel. "How will I know when I do?"
"How do you know when you orgasm?"
"Yeah?" Mac brightened. "It's like that?"
"Sadly no, but the principle of 'you know when you get there' is the same. Are you eating breakfast here?"
"I'm thinking about it. I think I'll have earned it. Plus, if I call Carter to come over, he can talk Mrs. G into French toast."
"Do that then. I've got something I want to show you."
"Just an idea."
It was just after seven when Laurel, dressed for the day, sketchbook in hand, stepped into the family kitchen.
She'd assumed Del would be gone, but there he was, leaning against the counter with a steaming mug of coff ee. In a near mirror image of the posture, Carter Maguire leaned on the opposite counter.
Still, they were so diff erent. Del, even in the torn shirt and jeans, projected a kind of masculine elegance, while Carter exuded a disarming sweetness. Not sugary, she thought. She'd have hated that—but an innate sort of niceness.
And despite Del's fumble in the night, he was agile, athletic, while Carter tended toward the klutzy.
Still, they were both so damn cute.
Obviously, the sturdy Mrs. Grady wasn't immune. She worked at the stove—French toast winning the day—her eyes bright, her cheeks a little flushed. Happy to have the boys around, Laurel thought.
Parker came in from the terrace, slipping her BlackBerry into her pocket. She caught sight of Laurel. "Saturday evening's bride. Basic nerves. All smooth. Emma and Jack are heading over, Mrs. G."
"Well, if I'm cooking for an army, some of the troops had better sit. Keep your fingers off that bacon, boy," she warned Del, "until you're at the table like the civilized."
"Just trying to get a head start. I'll take it over. Hey, Laurel, how's the head?"
"Still on my shoulders." She set down the sketchbook, picked up the pitcher of juice.
"Morning." Carter smiled at her. "What happened to your head?"
"Del beat it against the stairs."
"After she hit me and ripped my shirt."
"Because you were drunk and knocked me down."
"I wasn't drunk, and you fell."
"That's his story."
"Sit down and behave," Mrs. G ordered. She turned as Jack and Emma came in. "Are your hands clean?" she demanded of Jack.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then take this and go sit."
He accepted the platter of French toast, sniff ed deeply. "What did you make for everybody else?"
She laughed and swatted at him.
"Hey," he said to Del.
They'd been friends since college, and as tight as brothers since Jack had relocated to Greenwich to open his architectural firm. He took his place at the breakfast nook, movie-star handsome with his wavy, dark blond hair, smoky eyes, quick grin.
The fact that he was dressed in a suit told Laurel he had a client meeting in his office rather than an appointment on a construction site.
"Shirt's ripped," Jack said to Del as he nabbed a slice of bacon.
"Laurel did it."
Jack wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Feisty."
They grinned at each other as Mac came in. "God! This better be worth it. Come here." She grabbed Carter, yanked him against her for a noisy kiss. "I earned that."
"You're all . . . rosy," he murmured and bent his head to kiss her again.
"Stop that nonsense and sit down before the food gets cold."
Mrs. G gave him a flick on the arm as she carried the coff eepot to the table to fill mugs.
Mrs. G was in her element, Laurel knew. She had a full brood to fuss over and order around. She'd revel in the number and the noise of them, and when she'd had enough of both, she'd kick them all out of her kitchen. Or retreat to her rooms for some peace and quiet.
But for now, with the scents of coff ee and bacon and cinnamon, with platters being emptied and plates filled, Mrs. G had things just as she wanted.
Laurel understood the need to feed, the desire—even the passion—to put food in front of someone and urge them to eat. It was life and comfort, authority and satisfaction. And if you'd prepared that food with your own hands, your own skill, it was, in a very real way, love.
She supposed she'd learned some of that right here when Mrs. G had taught her how to roll out a pastry shell or mix batter or test a loaf of bread for doneness. More than the basics of baking, she'd learned if you put some love and pride into the mix, the dough rose truer.
"Head okay?" Del asked her.
"Yes, no thanks to you. Why?"
"Because you're quiet."
"Who can get a word in?" she asked as conversations crisscrossed the table.
"How about a professional query?"
She eyed him warily over a bite of French toast. "Such as?"
"I need a cake."
"Everyone needs cake, Del."
"That should be your slogan. Dara's coming back from maternity leave. I thought we'd do a little office welcome back, happy baby and all that."
It was a nice thing to do for his paralegal, and very like him. "When?"
"Ah, Thursday."
"As in this Thursday?" Also just like him, she thought. "What kind of cake?"
"A good one."
"That's the only kind I make. Give me a clue here. How many people?"
"Maybe twenty."
"Sheet or layered?"
He sent her a pleading look. "Help me, Laurel. You know Dara. Just whatever you figure."
"Is she allergic to anything?"
"No. I don't think." He topped off her coff ee an instant before she thought to do so herself. "It doesn't have to be spectacular. Just a nice cake for an office deal. I could go to the market and pick one up but . . . that's what I'd get," he said, pointing at the scowl on her face. "I can pick it up Wednesday after work if you can squeeze it in."
"I'll squeeze it in because I like Dara."
"Thanks." He reached over to give her hand a pat. "Gotta run. I'll pick up that paperwork Wednesday," he told Parker. "Let me know about the other stuff when you figure it out."
He stood, then walked to Mrs. G. "Thanks."
He gave her a quick, casual kiss on the cheek first. Then came the hug, and it was the hug that always made Laurel's heart mush. Serious grip, cheek to the hair, eyes closed, just a little sway. Del's hugs mattered, she thought, and made him impossible to resist.
"Pretend to behave yourself," Mrs. Grady ordered.
"That I can do. See you." He gave a wave to the rest of the group, then went out the back.
"I'd better get moving, too. Mrs. G," Jack said, "you are the goddess of the kitchen. The empress of epicure."
She gave her big laugh at that. "Go to work."
"I'd better get started, too. I'll walk out with you," Emma said.
"Actually, I've got something I'd like your take on," Laurel said to Emma before she could rise.
"Then I get to have more coff ee." She shifted to fuss with the knot of Jack's tie, then tugged it until their lips met. "Bye."
"See you tonight. I'll drop those revised plans by, Parker."
"Should I get out of the way?" Carter asked when Jack left.
"You're allowed to stay, and even comment." Laurel scooted out for her sketchbook. "I had a brainstorm last night, so I worked up an idea for the wedding cake."
"My cake? Our cake," Mac corrected quickly with a grin for Carter. "I wanna see, I wanna see!"
"Presentation," Laurel said sternly, "is a watchword of Icing at Vows. So, while the inspiration for this design primarily stems from the bride—"
"It also factors in what the designer sees as qualities that attract the groom to said bride, and vice versa. So we have, I think, a blending of the traditional and nontraditional in both form and flavor. Added to this, the designer has known the bride for more than two decades, and has developed a deep and sincere attachment to the groom—all of which play into the concept—but will ensure that any critiques of said concept will be gracefully accepted."
"That's bull." Parker rolled her eyes. "You'll be pissed off if she doesn't like it."
"That's only true because if she doesn't like it, she's an idiot. Which means I've been friends with an idiot for over two decades."
"Just let me see the damn design."
"I can adjust the size once you've nailed down your guest list. The current concept's good for two hundred." Laurel flipped open the book, held up the sketch.
She didn't have to hear Mac's breath catch to know. She saw it in the stunned delight on her face.
"The colors are pretty true to what I'd do, and you can see I'd want to do a variety of cakes and fillings. Your Italian cream, and the chocolate with raspberry Carter favors, the yellow, maybe with pastry cream. It's just one way to do your cake sampler fantasy."
"If Mac doesn't like it, I'll take it," Emma announced.
"It doesn't suit you. It's Mac's if she wants it. The flowers can be changed," Laurel added, "to whatever ones you and Emma decide on for your bouquets and arrangements—but I'd stick with the color palette. You're not white icing, Mac. You're color."
"Please don't hate it," Mac murmured to Carter.
"How could I? It's stunning." He glanced over at Laurel, gave her a slow, sweet smile. "Plus, I heard chocolate with raspberry. If we're voting, it gets mine."
"Mine, too," Emma said.
"I'm thinking you'd better hide that sketch." Parker nodded at Laurel. "If our clients get a look at it, we're going to have brides fighting for that cake. Nailed it in one, Laurel."
Mac stood to step closer, to take the pad and study. "The shape, the textures, not to mention the colors. Oh, oh, the photographs we'll get! Which you considered," she added, shifting her gaze to Laurel's.
"It's hard to think about you without thinking photography."
"I love it. You know I love it. You knew I'd love it. You know me." She put her arms around Laurel, squeezed hard, then did a little dance. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"Let me have a look at that." Mrs. Grady took the book out of Mac's hand and studied the sketch with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.
Then she nodded, looked at Laurel. "Good girl. And now, all of you, out of my kitchen."
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Susan Smith-Harmon
In Iraq, Sunni attacks spark Shiite calls to armsWednesday, 30 October 2013 02:01 Published in National News
BAGHDAD (AP) — The wave of attacks by al-Qaida-led Sunni extremists that has killed thousands of Iraqis this year, most of them Shiites, is provoking ominous calls from Shiite leaders to take up arms in self-defense.
They generally insist they'll do it legally, under the banner of the security forces. But Iraq's young democracy is still struggling, nearly two years after U.S. troops withdrew, and the specter of armed Shiite and Sunni camps revives memories of the sectarian fighting that took the country to the brink of civil war in the mid-2000s.
Since April, bombings and shootings have killed more than 5,500 people. Averaging at least two a week, they target outdoor markets, cafes, bus stations, mosques and pilgrimages in Shiite areas.
Iraq's Shiite prime minister, Nouri al-Maliki, who will meet with President Barack Obama on Friday, says he wants American help in quelling the violence.
Departing for Washington, he appealed for quicker delivery of offensive weapons such as helicopters that Baghdad says it needs.
Since late December, Iraq's minority Sunnis have been protesting what they perceive as discrimination and tough anti-terrorism measures against them by the Shiite-led government. The Sunni attacks followed a government crackdown on a Sunni protest camp in the northern town of Hawija in which 44 civilians and one member of the security forces dead, according to U.N. estimates.
Now high-profile calls are being made for Shiites to play a role in their own defense by creating armed "popular committees," attached in some form to the regular security forces. The idea raises the specter of some of Iraq's darkest years following the 2003 U.S.-led invasion that toppled Saddam Hussein's Sunni-led regime, paving the way for long-repressed majority Shiites to seize power.
Iranian-backed Shiite death squads roamed the city from 2006-2008, killing Sunnis by the dozens and dumping their often mutilated bodies on the streets or in the river in retaliation for the devastating bombings and suicide attacks blamed on Sunni insurgents.
It was a cease-fire by militia leader and anti-American cleric Muqtada al-Sadr, along with a Sunni revolt against al-Qaida in Iraq and a series of U.S.-Iraqi offensives that helped quell the bloodshed. While Iraqis continued to face near-daily attacks, they hoped the days of rampant sectarian warfare were behind them. Now a politician, Al-Sadr has urged calm among his followers and made no public statements about the calls to take up arms to protect Shiites.
Zuhair al-Araji, a Sunni lawmaker, pointed out that the insurgents are targeting not only Shiites but moderate Sunnis, and that arming Shiite groups would backfire. "We are worried that some militias will infiltrate these proposed committees and we will see grave consequences," he said.
But Jassim Mohammed al-Fartousi, whose 24 year old son was among some 80 people killed in a suicide attack Sept. 21, reflects growing public demand for a response.
"The government and the security forces are incompetent," he said. "The popular committees will make us feel safe."
The civil war in neighboring Syria is also stoking the tensions as it takes on increasingly sectarian undertones, with many Shiites traveling to the country to support President Bashar Assad's government against mainly Sunni rebels.
Qais al-Khazali heads a feared Shiite militia, Asaib Ahl al-Haq (Band of the Righteous), an Iranian-backed group that repeatedly attacked U.S. forces in Iraq and says it is sending fighters to Syria to support government forces against Sunni-led rebels. He spent years in U.S. detention but was released after he was handed over to the Iraqi government.
Last year, the group decided to lay down its weapons and join the Iraqi political process, a move welcomed by al-Maliki. But addressing a conference of tribal leaders and clerics on Oct. 9, al-Khazali said his group needed to react to the "killings and destruction."
He said his "committees" would not participate in raids, but would cooperate with security forces in "patrolling their areas and setting up roadblocks."
Still, the security forces are supposed to be nonsectarian, and the suggestion of a Shiite militia in league with a Shiite prime minister's security forces is sure to heighten Sunni distrust.
Ali al-Moussawi, al-Maliki's spokesman, sounded lukewarm to the idea, saying the security forces "do not need armed committees; they need help with intelligence."
The law bans the formation of armed groups outside the state security forces, but the government made an exception for the Sunni militia formed by U.S. forces to fight al-Qaida.
Also calling for Shiite self-defense measures are Shiite lawmakers, one of them affiliated with Al-Maliki's parliamentary bloc, and some clerics connected to parties with militant wings.
Earlier this year, Wathiq al-Batat, a Shiite cleric who was a senior official in the Hezbollah Brigades in Iraq, formed what he calls the Mukhtar Army to protect Shiites. He claims to have more than 1 million members, a number that has not independently verified.
In an interview with the Beirut-based Iraqi satellite channel al-Sumaria last week, he said his militia was "well-intentioned" and wouldn't attack Sunnis as such, only "takfiri" groups, a term applied to Sunni radicals.
Al-Batat demanded that in order to be within the law, some of his followers should be integrated into the Defense or Interior Ministries to work with the security forces.
Despite some attacks on Sunni mosques following Sunni actions, Shiite reprisals are far less intense than they were in the tit-for-tat bloodshed of 2006-2007, when Sunnis would be snatched off the streets and killed and many families were driven from their homes.
But that may change if the "popular committees" come into being, some warn.
Hadi Jalo, a political analyst in Baghdad, said the government "could implicitly give the green light to some armed groups to help the security forces struggling to put an end to violence and to ease the pressure from the public."
Shwan Mohammed Taha, a Kurd who serves on the parliament's defense and security committee, warned such a move could prove a turning point.
"The atmosphere is already tense and such move will lead to the militarization of society and then to all-out civil war," he said.
Police Chief wants St. Louis County officers to carry heroin antidoteWednesday, 30 October 2013 01:39 Published in Local News
Nearly 1,800 people have died from heroin overdoses in the St. Louis area since 2007. St. Louis County Police Chief Tim Fitch believes his department can do more to cut the numbers.
Fitch says when overdose calls come in, police arrive first on the scene about 30 percent of the time. That's why he's asking the county health department to write a prescription allowing officers to carry naloxone, also called Narcan. It's a fast-acting antidote for overdoses on opiates, like heroin and morphine. Police in some other U.S. cities are already using it to treat overdose victims before EMTs arrive.
Fitch told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch that equipping each car with two-doses is affordable, costing the department about $1,500.
Cardinal's flight to Boston delayed 7 hoursWednesday, 30 October 2013 00:37 Published in Local News
After waiting seven hours on the tarmac at Lambert Airport, the Cardinals are finally on the ground in Boston.
A mechanical problem had grounded the Delta Airlines charter flight that was supposed to take off Tuesday afternoon. Players, coaches and their families had to wait for a new one to be flown in from Atlanta.
While they waited, several players posted good-natured comments on social media. Matt Carpenter tweeted "On the bright side really getting to know my teammates children."
The Cardinals hadn't scheduled any workouts for Tuesday.
The team finally arrived in Boston about 10:00 p.m. St. Louis time.
They'll take on the Red Sox in a must-win World Series Game 6 Wednesday night at 7:00 p.m. CDT.
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Like Blackwater, Under The Snow is set in a Nordic landscape, Lapland, in a village nestling at the foot of a snowy mountain. A drunken brawl ends in two deaths, but when Constable Torsson skis out to investigate, he is met by a conspiracy of silence.
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MBA (Leicester), MA (Leicester), Adv. Dip (HKAPA), AES
Cultural and Creative Industries, Game Based Learning, Animation, Sound Design, Digital Media
Henry Ma currently serves as Associate Dean of School of Design, The Hong Kong Polytechnic University, Guest Professor of the Beijing Film Academy and Visiting Professor of the Tianjin Academy of Fine Arts. In 2007, he obtained the 1st Hong Kong Digital Entertainment Industry Person of the Year Award (Digital Entertainment Education Category). With his active participation in the creative media industry, he has been involved in the design and production of stage, film and TV projects.
Henry graduated from School of Technical Arts of the Hong Kong Academy for Performing Arts, School of Management of the University of Leicester, and the Centre for Mass Communication Research of the University of Leicester. Henry is a member of the Audio Engineering Society, Broad Member of the Hong Kong ACM SIGGRAPH Professional Chapter and Vice-Chairman (Education) of the Hong Kong Digital Entertainment Association. With his substantial experiences in the industry, he served as panel members of the Hong Kong ICT Awards, the Hong Kong Film Award, the Hong Kong Independent Short Film and Video Award, the Hong Kong Digital Entertainment Excellence Award, and the Project Grants distributed by the Hong Kong Arts Development Council, Film and Media Arts Committee.


text: Patchy Sanders Share Performing in the 2013 Green Show Sunday, June 9. This is their first season in the OSF Green Show. Peasant Folk Music, Warming Hearts Lighting Humour, Fiddle Sticks. Patchy Sanders is peasant folk music —old oak barrels, mead, scythes, broomsticks, jugs and hearths. We conjure the pleasantry of old and sink in with the beauty of the moment. We weave tapestries of sound that remember the musical traditions of celtic, appalachian, medieval, and bluegrass; while building bridges into our current creation of today's folk. Patchy Sanders is two sisters, Jacqueline and Danielle Aubert, their lovers, Ian Van Ornum and Daniel Sherrill, and our gnomie gnome bass player David Duret. We are a family and we share love as much as music. We have all been writing and sharing songs for many years, performing for childrens groups, festivals, farmers markets, and stages far and wide. The instruments we most create with are, (but not limited to!) banjo, bouzouki, nylon and steel stringed guitars, mandolin, fiddle, 5 stringed double bass, penny whistle, saw, ukulele, and lots of beautiful harmonized voices! Danielle Elyse Aubert: Danielle is a lover of the land and her music grows from the vines, trees, polypores and spring ephemerals that inspire her. She plays the banjo, saw pennywhistle and sings like a hawk nestled in a rose patch. Her songs are filtered through dreams, forests, owls, and cedar trees creating what she likes to call "banjo witch ballads." They weave chromatic melodies, dissonant vocal harmonies and a soundscape of rhythmic and melodic orchestration. From the Appalachians to the Cascades the wilderness continues to inspire her to write and share her music. Ian Van Ornum: There was a time, once…. I was standing stones on the apex of their noggins. I was happy, content with my life. A meandering staircase sprouted near. As I reached the tippy-top, there in the distance a shimmering castle. I shimmied back down to the prairied earth and been singing songs ever since about this kingdom and the characters and feelings met along the way. Long live Patchy Sanders. Ian plays and sings, mandolin, violin, bouzouki, guitar, & many/any quirky sound machines, also, he practices his whistling! Daniel Kline Sherrill: Oh sun! the sky, the clouds, rain and waterfalls, from a trickle to niagra. Born in Baltimore, lived in Pennsylvania for many years, hopped around the globe, from NYC to Buenos Aires to Pittsburgh to Portland. Now in Southern Oregon. He writes songs about geese, sweet treats, and lucid dreaming. Creates on many instruments, primarily the guitar tickles his bow strings the most. Jacqueline Rochelle Aubert: I Love harmonizing!!!!!! Yes! To sing! To thee! I AM a human who loves to SING!!!!! YAY! David Duret: I play 5 string double upright bass. I have been classically trained for 25 years! I am inspired by lollywaggons and Patchy Sanders! Patchy Sanders on Community: Our Physical community is Ashland, OREGON! We all live together 30 minutes outside of Ashland. We are all moving to town this month though to be townies and be richly connected to our culture as musicians. We are a freshly formed band (a few months ago now), so we are wanting to be where the people are. We want to share our music with the ENTIRE world! Seriously. And playfully! : ) We are all minstrels/Bards you see, who have come together to strengthen our power as muses and lovers of the earth! www.patchysanders.com


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Customer Reviews
After the doctors, minerals
1 person found the following review helpful
Posted by Reviewer2695165 From Arkansas on Dec 11, 2010
Purchased at iHerb
After going through chemo then suffering damage to my back from a fall, I was plagued by muscle spasms that were terrible. It was becoming impossible to deal with. I went to a specialist who wanted me on three muscle relaxers a day which would make me comotose. Instead, I decided to get the Bluebonnet Multiminerals. I had tried some others without much improvement. I was amazed. I rarely have any problem with the muscles after taking them for about three years now. Can't go a day without them without the spasms coming back. Thank you, Bluebonnet for an excellent product.
Bluebonnet Nutrition, Multi Minerals, Plus Boron, Iron Free, 180 Vcaps
1 person found the following review helpful
Posted by Reviewer3069814 From California on Jan 20, 2009
Purchased at iHerb
I prefer this product because the previous multimineral I purchased was too large a tablet to swallow easily. This one takes twice as much per serving but at least I am not in danger of needing the Heimlich maneuver. An excellant quality product.
Iron free
Posted by Reviewer1783972 From Japan on Nov 02, 2009
Purchased at iHerb
With the addition of this one I now feel my body is getting all it needs. Had to be iron free and is.
Multiminerals new for me.
Posted by Reviewer3103424 From Canada on Dec 28, 2009
Purchased at iHerb
It's difficult for a middle-aged male to know what to do re Calcium. There are suggestions that large calcium intake simultaneously reduces risk of colon cancer while increasing risk of prostate cancer. Men should research this, to find a balanced approach. My doctor suggested a high-quality multi-mineral, so that the calcium is balanced with magnesium and other minerals. This mineral mix also contains 30 mg of zinc and is iron free. I take one cap every second day, but ask your own doctor about it. I also like the veggie caps.
Help For Muscle Spasms
Posted by Reviewer1648561 From Iowa on Jun 13, 2011
Purchased at iHerb
Several years ago, I was seeing specialists for muscle spasms. I had tried another brand of multi-mineral but still had problems. I received no help from the doctors, but after trying Blue Bonnet Multi Minerals, I was much improved.


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Search Result
Search Tags: bones
A stark reminder of genocide on the Mall
They may only be made of clay, plaster and paper, but the scene of a million "human" bones laid on the grounds of the National Mall this weekend is causing quite a stir.
Saturday - 06/08/2013, 04:04pm EDT
Tags: genocide, National Mall
Low bone density can be prevented, reversed
Good news for women with low bone density: osteoperosis is a disease that can be prevented, stabilized and, at times, reversed.
Saturday - 04/13/2013, 07:25am EDT
Tags: osteoporosis, osteopenia, bone density, Randi Martin
, April 19, 2014
Washington, DC
Now: 49 °FTonight: Partly cloudy
Hi: 66 °F | Lo: 40 °F


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We accept applications through ERAS and participate in the NRMP for selection. Required to complete an ACGME pediatric residency
Accept US citizen, Green card, J1 visa and H1b
Need to be able to get a DC medical license
3 letters of recommendations
Direct questions:
Naquetta Wright
Program Coordinator
Dr. Holly Meany
Program Director
We interview one day a week from mid January through the end of March. Multiple candidates are interviewed on the same day.


text: yarnfabricrewardsblogideasabouthelp my accountcart Skacel Addi Click Addi Click Tip US 5 Home » Shop » Needles & Hooks » Addi Turbo » Addi Click » Addi Click Tip US 5 $13.95 http://www.theloopyewe.com/asset/catalog-entry-photo/83e0cfbb-60c8-faf8-b1cd-49c122b5b3d4~v2-600x600.jpg Addi Click Tip US 5 in Addi Click from Skacel http://www.theloopyewe.com/shop/p/C61992B8-Addi-Click-Addi-Click-Tip-US-5?ref=amazon-universal-wishlist In Stock for $13.95 Quantity Add to Cart Add to Wishlist Tweet Pin it Share These tips work with the Addi Click System and are a great way to expand your basic set. Each Tip Set comes with a pair of tips in the size indicated. We currently have 2 sets in stock and available — we first started selling this in August 2009. More To See Addi Click Customer Photos Inspiration from others. Suggestions Patterns and similar items. Products


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A new Wisconsin Historical Society website is coming mid-May 2014! See a preview >>
For more than 50 years George and Nan Pollard sketched and painted
together, winning national and international acclaim
in quite different areas. While Nan has illustrated
more than 2,000 books for children, George has produced
more than 5,000 portraits of the rich and famous.
Growing up in Burlington, Iowa, Nan knew she liked to draw from an early age. She won awards for her artwork in both junior high and high school, and went on to study at the Layton School of Art in Milwaukee.
George was raised in the small farming community
of Waldo, Wisconsin. Encouraged by his mother, he
began drawing at a young age and attended the Layton
School of Art after high school. George soon moved
on to the Art Institute of Pittsburgh and then to
Chicago to study under Frederick Mizen, one of the
nation's top illustrators. When World War II began,
George left Mizen's academy and enlisted in the
U.S. Marine Corps. During his 39 months of service,
he continued his art. His work attracted the attention
of his superiors, who ordered him to paint the portraits
of Eleanor Roosevelt and General Douglas MacArthur.
George returned to the Layton School of Art after the
war, where he met and married Nan in 1947.
Nan and George settled in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Nan
was soon hired as a staff artist at Lowe Publishing,
where she and George collaborated on celebrity doll
books. George painted the covers while Nan would
do the dolls and dresses. Nan continued to illustrate
children's books while George's career as a portrait
artist took off. He did portraits of Presidents Eisenhower,
Truman, Kennedy and Reagan; Supreme Court Justices
William O. Douglas and William Rehnquist; Wisconsin
governors Lee Sherman Dreyfus and Tommy Thompson; and
sports figures Muhammad Ali, Bart Starr and Vince
Lombardi. He even painted Pope John Paul II, which
won the Pontiff's Medal, an honor usually reserved
for heads of state. George currently has more portraits
hanging in Washington D.C. government buildings than
any other artist.
Nan built a prestigious career as an illustrator
and was continually sought out by publishers for
the quality of her work. She drew some of the best-loved
children's subjects, including Captain Kangaroo,
Mickey Mouse, Lassie and Curious George. In addition
to story books, Nan did coloring and activity books
as well as paper doll books. She retired in 1999.
Nan and George raised four children together, and their children all have become distinguished
artists in their own right.
The Wisconsin Historical Society celebrated the lifetime achievements of Nan and George Pollard, along with three other individuals with Wisconsin ties, during its first annual History Makers Gala in Milwaukee on Tuesday, May 23, 2006. The Pollards received The Award for Distinction in Visual Arts Given in Memory of Artist Georgia O'Keeffe. George Pollard died at his home in Kenosha on April 17, 2008.


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Description: Information technology (IT) is everywhere. It is a vital part of your personal life and almost any career that you will have.
Foundations of Information Technology Management (MIS 302F) is an introduction to creating and using IT for strategic, competitive advantage. This course is NOT about learning Microsoft Office. It is about learning core IT skills, IT management concepts, and how to apply them to your career.
This is a semester-based online course, with no face-to-face meetings.
Official UT Course Description:
Explores how technology helps to achieve competitive advantage and improve decision making, business processes, operations, and organizational design. Uses a cross-functional perspective to recognize the role of technology across business activities of management, finance, marketing, human resources, and operations.
May not be counted towards the Bachelor of Business Administration degree. MIS 302F and 311F may not both be counted.
Prerequisites: None.
Privacy information :: UT Accessibility
University Extension Address: P.O. Box 7637Austin, Texas 78713
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Manufacturers sometimes ask that retailers not display a price if it drops below a certain amount. The "Click here to see Lowest Price" message indicates that the price of the item is so low that the manufacturer requested that it not be advertised (that is, displayed). In a brick-and-mortar store, you would probably have to ask a salesperson what the price of the product is. At eCOST, by clicking on "Click here to see Lowest Price" you are essentially asking to see the price, at which point we show it to you.
Work song
With USB connectivity delivering pure, digital audio and power—your music will sound good wherever you work.
Going places
Light and compact, these portable speakers let you enjoy quality audio in the office or on the go.
Sound control
You can quickly adjust the volume when you need to with volume and mute buttons on the speakers.
With pure, digital audio and a sleek, portable design, this USB-powered speaker system sounds good at your desk or on the road.
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Nissan 370Z Seat Covers
Seat Covers for Nissan 370Z
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I have been working at Health Net
Pros – flexibility
plenty of perks
corporate environment
cooperative cowokers
Cons – lack of support from mgmt
unsupportive mgr
have to learn on your own
Advice to Senior Management – have more supportive mgmt
Yes, I would recommend this company to a friend
I have been working at Health Net
I have been working at Health Net
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39th Anniversary of the New England Fiddle Contest
Contest to be held on Saturday, June 8, as originally planned with a 1 hour rain delay.
According to the weather forecast, the rain is scheduled to stop early morning, with skies clearing and promising to be a very pleasant day. We are delaying the start of the competition by 1 hour to start at 1:00 PM to give the grounds sufficient time to dry. Registration will also be delayed by 1 hour and will begin at 12:00 PM. Please follow the published program as we will work to get the contest back on schedule. Note: you may want to bring extra chairs and/or tables and/or plastic sheeting to keep instruments dry.
Online Registration is now closed. There are still slots available in all divisions, so you will be able to register on the day of the event at the registration booth.
Check out the Contest Program for approximate competition times.
Get ready to enjoy the "annual rite of spring" for the fiddle music world in New England with the New England Fiddle Contest. This years contest will be held on Saturday June 8th as part of "Pride in Manchester Week" at Center Park in Manchester, CT.
Center Park is conveniently located in downtown Manchester, CT off of Rte I-384. There is ample free public parking, restaurants, and other attractions nearby. Please visit the New England Fiddle Contest website at www.fiddlefest.org as well as the Pride in Manchester Week website at http://www.townofmanchester.org/PrideandHeritage/ for more details. Sponsored in part by the Greater Hartford Arts Council.
The Peace Train Foundation is a non-profit organization that requires contributions and outside funding to allow the contest to be held. If you would like to contribute or have suggestions for potential funding, please send an e-mail to email@example.com,
The Peace Train Foundation Board
Peace Train Foundation P. O. Box 245 Poquonock, CT 06064-0245
The New England Fiddle Contest is a production of The Peace Train Foundation, Inc., a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation formed in 1972 for the purpose of promoting arts and culture in the Greater Hartford region. Your contributions are tax-deductible to the extent allowed by law. Contributions can be made securely online or they can be mailed to: Peace Train Foundation, Inc, P.O. Box 370296, West Hartford, CT 06137-0296
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Metal Knot Cufflinks Style CL3319
This item is available online only. *
These classic styled knot cufflinks add the perfect detail and are charming to complete the tailored look for your groom or groomsmen. These handsome and exquisitely styled interwoven knot cufflinks are classic yet neutral, and will coordinate perfectly with any color scheme for your wedding. These cufflinks arrive in a jewelry box ready to wrap as a gift. And after your wedding day, these elegant cufflinks can become a keepsake reminder worn year round holding the memory of your special day.
Features and Facts:
*Color & Style representation may vary by monitor. Not responsible for typographical or pictorial errors. Product availability varies by store and online. Some in-store purchases require special order and markdown styles cannot be special ordered. Contact your local store for details.


text:
Most memorable moments from the 2014 Juno Awards
Check out the pics!
Lady Gaga's video for G.U.Y. is a visual stunner
Watch now!
Surprising inspirations behind your favourite songs
Who knew?
Last night's Broad City opening is better than Drake's music video
Started from the bottom
January 29th, 2013
Dear Adam,
Whataya want for your birthday?
Happy Birthday!
Your friends at MUCH
Check out our Adam Lambert playlist below and share your birthday wishes for him in the comments section below!
Never Close Our Eyes
Better Than I Know Myself
If I Had You
Whataya Want From Me
For Your Entertainment
Time For Miracles
Tags: adam lambert, Happy Birthday
Posted on Tuesday, January 29th, 2013 at 12:42 pm by Aimee and is filed under Blog, Celeb Life, Music, News.Tweet


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Rowenta Pro Compact Garment Steamer
- Online Only
- Summary
This lightweight, portable steamer comes in handy for pressing everything from upholstery and drapes to cocktail dresses and suits. The compact unit heats up in less than three minutes, and wide-coverage steam output ensures quick, efficient removal of wrinkles.
- Wide steam head distributes steam for quick results.
- Heats up in just 2 1/2 minutes.
- Steam hose connector has 360-degree swivel base for easy reach.
- 33-oz. cap. water tank for 30 minutes of continuous steam.
- Carrying handle for easy transport.
- Fabric hose stays cool to the touch during use.
- Built-in storage for cord and steam head.
Included accessories:
- Upholstery brush, fabric brush, lint pad, crease attachment, door hook.
- Dimensions & More Info
- 15" x 10 1/2" x 9 1/2" high.
- 33-oz. cap. water tank.
- 7 lb. 4 oz.
- Model number IS1430.
- This product is intended for use in the United States and Canada and is built to United States electrical standards.
- Made in China.
- Shipping
Shipping Information
This item is shipped from our warehouse by UPS to arrive within five business days of our receiving your order.
Shipping Rates
The shipping rate varies depending on your order total and shipping destination. View Shipping Options and Charges.
Rush Delivery
For an additional charge of $15 per address, we can rush delivery to most destinations. This service is not available for some oversize items, items shipped directly from the supplier (including perishable and custom-manufactured items), out-of-stock items and items to be shipped outside the contiguous 48 states.
Return Policy
At Williams-Sonoma, we take great pride in the quality and craftsmanship of our products. If, within 30 days, you are not completely satisfied with your purchase for any reason, please return the item for an exchange or refund of the merchandise value. View Full Return Policy.


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Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose,
No bigger than a bubby's thumb.
Medieval dublet, elk horn ornamented woodland trumpet,
Cradling your musket son.
Harlequin stands magnificent
Slaughtered tulip in the psalm of his lillywhite.
Harlequin stands theatrical
Mincing smirk dancing on the hip of his lip.
O harley
Naughty to pretend it's so naughty so bad
O harley
Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose,
No bigger than a bubby's thumb.
Garlanded with bluebells strewn with silver birch
Spring grown tiaras
Cradling your sabre son.
Le Ultime News
Sei appassionato di cucina? Ecco qualche consiglio per te


text:
So the springboard crashed and booted into "safe mode" (the little sad ipod guy come up on the lock screen), so I restarted and uninstalled a few apps... and it was ok.
stupidly I tried to reinstall other things from cydia, now my springboard seems to crash every time I boot up my device.
I am currently restoring my iPod and going to rejailbreak after.
Anybody know how to stop the springboard from crashing and going into safe mode?
how about getting out of safe mode? will the Powertool app help??


text:
Railroad job Government requires all businesses that sell gift cards in Connecticut to honor them until the end of time. That statute went on the books while Richard Blumenthal was state attorney general. Now a U.S. senator, he wants to make that federal law to prevent businesses from setting "absolutely draconian deadlines" and unfairly confiscating consumers' money. Naturally, government holds itself to a much lower standard. Metro-North Railroad sells prepaid tickets, which function much like gift cards, with draconian deadlines, and the railroad is allows it to keep the cash from unused tickets even if they expired because the trains didn't run. This double standard is intolerable. Lawmakers should repeal the gift-card rule or pass the bill offered by Rep. Gail Lavielle, R-Wilton, to require Metro-North to issue credits to riders when service is suspended for upward of two days.
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Jeannine, the recipe sounds really good - thank you so much for sharing!
Dirt cake
Ingredients :
· 1 (16 oz.) pkg. (3 ½ sticks) Oreo cookies
· 1(8 oz.) pkg. cream cheese
· 1 (12 oz.) pkg. whipped topping
· 1 c. confectioners' sugar
· 1 stick butter
· 2 (3.5 oz.) pkg. instant vanilla pudding mix
· 2 c. milk
· 1 tsp vanilla extract/powder
1. Crush Oreos very fine.
2. Mix cream cheese, butter, and sugar in a bowl
3. Mix milk, pudding, and whipped topping vanilla extract/powder in a large bowl
4. Combine pudding and cream cheese mixture together
5. Layer in a large pot/bowl starting with cookies then cream mixture.
6. Repeat layers until you run out of cookies and cream mixture
7. Chill in refrigerator until ready to serve
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text:
First, a quick refresher. The term red herring is derived from the practice of training hounds to follow a scent, or distracting them with a different smell, during a fox hunt. In a story it can be a clue that leads the reader towards a false impression or conclusion. Not to muddy the waters, but this term also refers to a preliminary prospectus sometimes used for an initial public offering (IPO) that intentionally provides only a portion of a company's vital data.
A red herring can also be a diversionary tactic used in business to make an argument, or raise a concern, that is not relevant to the central issue, but appears initially to be plausible.
Has the tide turned?
Here's an example: You have been working on an acquisition and finally the other side has agreed to a face-to-face powwow on your turf to seal the deal. After months of sweet-talking, playing nice and being on your best behavior, you think you can make this transaction finally happen.
Then out of the blue, a few days before the visit, you start to get not so warm and fuzzy emails from the other side referencing the offer price. Your touch-base calls suddenly go unreturned and you get that sinking feeling that the tide has changed.
What gives? First you must take a step back and retrace everything that has transpired since the tone began changing. Once you're sure it's not you, rather than improving the deal, you move to a watch and wait mode.
On the appointed day your guests arrive, you rush into the room, hand extended with a big smile on your face, but they signal indifferent expressions and reciprocate with wimpy handshakes.
To avoid making a huge tactical misjudgment, you must immediately move to detective and interpreter mode. The detective portion of this persona requires you to look beyond the obvious, not accepting circumstantial evidence as gospel, learning to think like Sherlock Holmes — assessing information and searching for real meaning from scraps of random comments and innuendos.
Part and parcel of this is also the need to function the same as a United Nations-type, interpreting words and body language to translate what is said into what is really meant. Effective managers instinctively can read between the lines to drill down to the lowest common denominator to get beyond red herring statements that merely become diversions to solving the real problem.
Playing a bargaining chip
Fast forward to the end of this dramatization and we learn that the visiting team was simply trying to put you on the defensive by employing a "big chill" technique to cause you to second guess your economic offer.
Their real objective was to gain a bargaining chip to get you to agree to allow them to keep their existing titles so they could save face in the community. This is right out of Red Herring 101.
Red herrings might provide some direction but, more frequently than not, they can send you down the wrong path.
With a little practice, a degree of healthy skepticism and a resistance to jumping to conclusions, red herrings can be readily spotted once it's understood how people use them, either intentionally or inadvertently. A good starting point is to remember that red herrings, just like their real life namesakes, don't pass the smell test.
Michael Feuer co-founded OfficeMax in 1988, starting with one store and $20,000 of his own money. During a 16-year span, Feuer, as CEO, grew the company to almost 1,000 stores worldwide with annual sales of approximately $5 billion before selling this retail giant for almost $1.5 billion in December 2003. In 2010, Feuer launched another retail concept, Max-Wellness, a first of its kind chain featuring more than 7,000 products for head-to-toe care. Feuer serves on a number of corporate and philanthropic boards and is a frequent speaker on business, marketing and building entrepreneurial enterprises. "The Benevolent Dictator," a book by Feuer that chronicles his step-by-step strategy to build business and create wealth, published by John Wiley & Sons, is now available. Reach him with comments at firstname.lastname@example.com.


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Don't mind me. Just testing some web…
Don't mind me. Just testing some web dev stuff!
Don't mind me. Just testing some web dev stuff!
I've been away from blogging for several months and I'm going to try my best to start posting here again regularly! I shot the above image in the dead of winter in a local park. The wind (or some force) had swept the grass into beautiful swirling patterns that resemble an ocean during a storm. I converted the photo into a toned black and white using Nik Silver Effects Pro. I wanted a dark, contrasty mood because winter feels like a dark time to me and it also just looks more interesting.
My friend Clint and his family needed some nice family photos for the holidays. I helped them out and was glad to use my new Cowboy Studio 24″ Softbox. It worked surprisingly well, especially at counter balancing the late day sunlight. I was even more surprised that it worked because my flash was not properly syncing with my shutter because the shutter speeds were way too high. I guess I'll be shooting at ISO 100 next time?
I'm trying to push myself to explore some new areas of photography and find new and fresh ways of capturing images. It seems like a bit of a futile task since so much has been done by others already. Nevertheless, I'd love to incorporate some abstraction into my work and I'm not exactly sure how to go about that. There are many ways to get abstract compositions with a camera…some interesting to me, some not. Today I thought I would try shooting some leaves with my 35mm f/1.8 lens wide open and then messing with the color in Photoshop. Here is the result. What do you think?
It's been a nasty year on Longs Peak. In addition to numerous injuries, there have been 3 fatalities on the mountain this summer. I ventured out to climb the peak with some friends in August. We backpacked to the Boulder Field and camped overnight with the intention of summiting the next morning. But weather moved in overnight and the scene above is what greeted us in the morning. As you can see, the summit was covered in mist and light rain. These kind of conditions make the climb to the top extremely treacherous. Needless to say, we gave up on trying to reach the summit. I've been up there before, but I think I like the view I got from the Boulder Field much better! It was a great light show for sunrise, though it only lasted a few moments.
Just a photo I liked from a recent informal photo shoot for a client at work: Grimm Brothers Brewhouse
I've always wondered what level of risk there is to my vision when I'm composing photographs with the sun in the frame. I use a DSLR camera for all my photography which, unlike point-and-shoot cameras, actually projects the image from the lens onto a mirror and then into the viewfinder. What you see in the viewfinder is exactly what is in front of the lens. I've always been somewhat concerned when the sun is in my shot because the sun is being focused by the lens directly into my eye.
Last week I went to the eye doctor for a routine eye exam and I asked him specifically about the risks. He said the most dangerous scenario is when the sun is centered in your photo and unobstructed. The sun can burn the back of your eye just like it can burn your skin, but unlike your skin, your eye will never recover. The damage occurs to your macular and can happen very quickly given the right circumstances. Apparently any past damage to your macular can be seen on a thorough eye exam. My doctor also said that the risk is much less if the sun is near the edge of your composition or is partially obscured by an object such as a tree or cloud. UV coatings on filters, lenses, glasses or contacts can cut down the damaging effects of the sun, but can't eliminate them.
Most DSLR cameras made within the last few years have a Live View feature where the camera can digitally display what is in front of the lens on the LCD screen. This makes a DSLR function more like a point-and-shoot camera. This is a good way to completely eliminate the risks to your eyes when the sun is in your composition. I use Live View on my camera anytime I'm shooting photos like the one above. Your eyes are too important to risk no matter what photographic opportunity is before you.
This past weekend I hiked from Bear Lake to Grand Lake (18.2 miles) in Rocky Mountain National Park with my friends Jay and Torgun. The hike starts at the Bear Lake trailhead, climbs over the summit of Flattop Mountain (the continental divide) and then gradually descends into the Grand Lake area. We stared at about 6:40 AM and finally made it into the middle of town in Grand Lake at 4:30 PM. Doing this hike in the direction we did (east to west) means that only the first 4 miles are strenuous uphill. The rest of it is mostly gradual downhill. There weren't any super steep, knee pounding, downhill sections.
We enjoyed seeing wildflowers, numerous pikas and marmots, big horn sheep, a moose, what we think was a ferret, and some droppings that I insist were from a bear (full of berries). Although 18 miles in one day was tough, it wasn't as bad as I had imagined. It wasn't until the last 4 miles or so that my body really started complaining. Overall, it was a great hike and a good way to see some areas of Rocky Mountain National Park that very few people ever see.
I went on a backpacking trip with my brother last weekend to Ice Lake basin near Silverton, Colorado. It is a phenomenally gorgeous area of the San Juan mountains. I believe we hit the peak of the wildflower season perfectly because the hills were virtually carpeted with flowers. Though the trail was busy during the day, I'm sure it wasn't as busy as Yankee Boy or American Basin which are the well known photography destinations this time of year. I highly recommend Ice Lake Basin for anyone up for a high altitude hike. The blue color of the water at Ice Lake is truly mind blowing. It's as blue, if not more so, than anything in the Caribbean or Mediterranean.
This trip was the my first opportunity to use my new Gitzo GT1541T carbon fiber tripod, which I invested in specifically for backpacking and overseas travel. It weighs less than 3 lbs and folds up to 16 inches long but can still hold the weight of my DSLR. I'll be posting a review of my experiences with it here shortly.