text:
Hot Springs, Arkansas
"Is your mother around?"
"Maybe. Who's this?"
"Park Services."
"Just a moment," says Owl. He points the phone at the floor, makes stomping noises, and returns with a high pitched squeaky voice. "This is her."
"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that a member of your family – Arthur – is living amongst the alligators."
"You know, large amphibious reptiles?"
"Yes, of course, I know."
"You need to come get him immediately."
"He's living with them?"
"As in sharing a living space?"
"Well how do you know it's him?"
"It's him."
"What proof do you have?"
"We have his wallet, with his driver's ID. We found it outside the pen."
"Pen, as in where you keep the alligators?"
"Correct. We have a small zoo here at the park. Including a pen with five full-grown American alligators."
Owl pauses. "Is he okay?"
"For now."
"What do you mean for now?"
"He's okay for now, but he's living in a goddamn gator farm and he refuses to leave. That doesn't exactly bode well in terms of bodily health, or life expectancy."
"What should we do?"
"Like I already said, you or someone in your family needs to get down here immediately – like, right frickin' now. He's put himself and others at serious risk. We're still deciding if we're going to pursue legal action."
"You got the money, right?" I say to Owl.
"I took it from her sock drawer, like you said."
We're on the road – Owl and me. It's late and the only light within a thirty mile radius is being held over a book under Owl's chin.
"You're doing it wrong," he says without looking up.
"Doing what wrong?"
I look down at my feet. We had rigged shoe-boxes around the pedals – tied up with twine – so I can reach.
"You're not allowed to drive. You're too young."
"So are you!"
"Momma's gonna flip when she wakes up tomorrow."
"Can we stop soon?"
"I'm hungry, and I gotta pee."
We stop at a roadside diner. It's four in the morning and everyone looks at us weird, like we don't belong – which we don't. There's a man with a glass eye looking at us from the jukebox, which plays some twangy old country song. He tells us he's a preacher, but I'm not game for trusting anybody.
A woman with bee-hive hair serves us sunny side eggs and toast and we eat them fast and try not to watch as the preacher waltzes by himself.
"He's dancing with a ghost," Owl says between slurps of a chocolate milkshake.
I sit back against the vinyl seat cover. He smiles, his eyes bug out through his circular lenses. The kid only needs a milkshake, and everything is fine again.
"What do you think happened to him?" I ask.
"Who knows?"
"No, not him." I nod toward the preacher.
"I think something happened once he was away from home, you know, after he left. Like something in his brain changed. One minute he was fine, and the next he was a crazy person."
"Yeah, but what actually happened?"
"I don't know."
"I guess we'll find out real soon."
"I don't want that."
"Don't want what?"
"I don't want that to happen, to me too."
"Why would it happen to you?"
"I don't want my brain to change."
"It won't."
"But how do you know?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"How do we know anything for sure?"
"Shut up, will you?"
"If it can happen to him, it can happen to anyone."
Owl looks over at the preacher, who's now planted against the jukebox, trying to stand up, with his hands caught in his coat pockets. He looks like a linebacker, fighting against the line of scrimmage. A waitress scurries out from the kitchen, and grabs him by the shoulders. She straightens him right up.
"Get out of here!" she says. "Get!"
The man nods apologetically, and staggers out through the front door, into the darkened parking lot. We watch him grow faint, and disappear into the night.
"This place is weird," says Owl.
"Yeah, let's go," I say.
We pay and leave.
Snot globs out onto the phone receiver as she cries. She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "It's my boys! They're gone and the car was stolen, and I don't know what to do!" she says.
"Ma'am. Ma'am. Take a deep breath. Can you please repeat yourself?" asks a masculine voice on the other end of the line.
"They're gone. They're gone."
"What happened to your boys?"
"I woke up. Oh lord –"
"You woke up, and?"
"I woke up this morning and I came downstairs and and and the car was gone. And I ran upstairs, and I looked into their bedroom, and they were gone. They're gone and I don't know where they are. It's a kidnapping, I swear it."
"Is there anyone of suspect, Ma'am? Does your family have any enemies? Anyone who would have any sort of motivation?"
"No, no."
"Even from within the family. Family's always where we start."
She freezes.
"Unless their father –"
"Their father?"
"Oh lord, bless those sweet boys. They didn't do nothing wrong."
"Ma'am, what about their father?"
"We're not exactly doing well, if you know what I mean."
"You're divorced."
"There's other words for it I just can't –"
"– But legally?"
"So you're separated. Estranged."
"Yes. Lord, I know he's got something to do with this. This has got his stink all over it."
"How long has it been?"
She reaches down and grabs an egg from the open carton on the kitchen counter. She crushes it it in her hand, and lets the yolk run along her palm, down her wrist. She takes another in her hand, and squeezes until it bursts. She shakes her hand free of the eggshell remnants and looks out through the the window above the sink, into the yard. An acre or so. The grass has overgrown, swallowing up an old riding lawn mower in the right corner of the rectangular yard, against the oak lined perimeter.
"'Bout two months now, off and on. From what I know, he's been spending most of his time at his brother's in Clarksville."
"Has he ever done anything like this before?"
"No, but –"
"Lately he's been acting so strange. Been irrational. Not all there."
"How so?"
"Just strange, that's all."
"The more you can disclose, the more quickly and efficiently we can work to find your boys."
"Like, I walked out into the yard, maybe two weeks ago, and he was back there without a shirt on, splitting logs with an axe. I say to him, Art, what on earth are you doing? We don't need firewood? It's the middle of summer? And he's covered in sweat, and he smells funky. And he says to me, Bonnie, you can never be too careful. And then I realize –"
"– What did you realize?"
"It's discomforting to say aloud."
"Did he try and harm you?"
"He was cutting the same log."
"I'm sorry? What same log?"
"It was the same log. He'd been putting the halves back together and cutting the same log down the middle, over and over, for hours."
"Have there been drugs, or alcohol abuse?"
"He drinks here and there, but I wouldn't say that word."
"No, I mean has he abused you or the children in any way?"
"Oh, no, no. He's not like that."
"Is there any chance the children could have taken the car themselves? Maybe trying to go somewhere, or run away?"
Her panic turns to something else.
"Now why the hell would they wanna go and do that?"
We zip down the highway. The warm summer wind whistles loudly against Owl's narrowly cracked window. I have one hand on the wheel, and the other with my index and thumb in the shape of a "C," keeping my sleepy, drooping, eyebrow propped like a pup tent.
"We need to hurry," I say.
"What does it mean?" he asks, after a pause, closing his book with a thump.
"That we took too long at the diner," I say.
"No," he says. "Life. The cosmos. Everything."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm reading this book and it says that the cosmos is infinite, and that the earth is actually very small."
"What are you reading?"
"I keep thinking that maybe Dad realized something like that," he says.
"Something like what?"
"That if the earth is very small, than that makes us even smaller, and I don't know about you, but it's enough to get a person thinking, you know? And asking strange questions. It's a real fish-hook in the brain."
"Alls I know is that he needs our help," I say.
"Maybe it was too much, maybe he felt so small, maybe it made him snap."
"I'm going to make you snap if you don't cool it with this nonsense."
"Try me."
I reach over, and snatch the book up from his lap.
I toss the book out the window. The pages flap violently, as it arcs into the darkness of the woods edging the highway.
"You're going to have to pay the library fine," he says, twitching.
"Couldn't give a squirrel's behind," I say.
"You're an idiot," he says.
"Don't try and figure everything out," I say. "You're only going to be disappointed. You'll get made fun of at school."
"No," he says.
Owl puts his thumb up to his mouth, tears at his cuticle with his front teeth.
"What? You think you're going to be able to figure it all out?" I ask.
"No, you're an idiot cause you missed the exit back there," he says.
I groan. Owl smirks, but it soon fades off.
"I'm scared for Dad," he says.
"Me too," I say, and look to turn the car around.
Lt. Raffles of the missing persons unit, is a large man with wide hands and a sturdy neck. He hasn't let his hair grow in more than a centimeter since the mid-80s. He sits in an office with wood-panel walls, wallpapered with inspirational posters. Key words include: excellence, teamwork, perseverance.
Raffles – who's been up for two days and counting – raises a cardboard coffee cup above his head, and taps the butt end, trying to free the last drops of whip cream topping. He crunches it in his grip, and it sails across the room into the wastebasket.
Before he can celebrate, Bonnie bursts in. She's got a bound in her step, sputtering a series of words and phrases and sounds that nearly blows the crew-cut off Raffles' head. Bonnie is a full bodied woman, with hair the color of a sunburn, in denim shorts and a form-fitting t-shirt, and not entirely unattractive, he thinks. Yet, there's something about her legs that throws him off, like they're disproportionally thick for her upper body. Raffles is a professional, however, and he clears his mind of these thoughts.
"Woah, woah," he says.
And while ninety-five percent of her words blend into a maelstrom of unintelligible sound, as she paces back and forth under the spinning ceiling fan, across the carpet, he does, however, catch the three words that matter:
??????????? "Two." ???????????
?????????? "Missing." ?????????
??????????? "Boys." ???????????
We reach town in the early morning. Everything is calm, and hazy, and glowing. Like the whole place is hiding under a thin cotton bed-sheet, trying to sleep in as long as possible. Church bells clang thickly from a pointed sliver of a tower, from a hill in the distance. The sun rises above us, rippling – I think of the egg-yolk from the diner.
My eyes are heavy. I dip for a moment in the opposite lane. Owl screams. I jerk the wheel, and right the car back into the lane.
Owl reaches over and smacks the back of my skull. "You almost got us killed!" he says.
"Shut up Owl," I say, taking a swing back at him.
"You don't know where in the H-E-double-hockey-stick we're going," he says.
And he's right, I don't.
I stop in a school parking lot to ask for directions, but Owl tells me that we're better off finding it ourselves, cause truancy is a "punishable crime."
"It's Sunday," I say. "And I highly doubt thats true."
"Can't be too careful," he says.
I drive off.
We idle at a three-way stop sign. I shake Owl awake with my right hand, grabbing him by the front of his oversized Razorbacks t-shirt – our father's originally, from his college days. He grumbles, and rubs the sleep from the corners of his eyes.
"Do you have any idea where we go from here?"
Owl places his glasses back on his face.
"Existentially?" he asks, straightening up his spine against the seat.
"No, you dingbat. Should I go right or left?"
He shrugs. "How should I know?"
I guess right, and get lucky. About a half mile down the road, I see a sign for the park.
In the squad car, heading South, with his windows down in the morning sun, Raffles' eyes dart from the road over to Bonnie, in the passenger seat, her hair tied back, waving behind her like a wind sock. He watches her as she rubs her palms across her half-bare thighs.
"Stay professional," he says, under his breath.
"What was that?" she asks. Her eyes have a desperate intensity about them. They remain fixed on the road, forward, in the only direction that matters; the direction her boys are in.
"Nothing," he says. He looks over once more to see her lips moving, her hands now clasped together in her lap. "We'll find your boys."
She smiles politely, and nods.
"We will," he says. "No need to worry."
Raffles realizes, with a quick smack of guilt, that she'd been praying.
It's hot now, and muggy.
Owl and I are led into the park by a woman missing two fingers; ring and middle, on her right hand. Owl asks her if it was a gator that took them, but she ignores the question.
"Where's your mother?" she asks.
"She's parking the car," I say.
The zoo section of the park, itself, is fairly small and shaped as an oval. A wide dirt path, loops up, out, and around, sparsely populated by wandering families; men with high socks and fanny packs saddled on their hips, trailed by motherly figures in foam visors pushing strollers, sweating into the necks and armpits of their sun-dresses. The outside of the oval is bordered by several run down exhibits, gated off petting areas, and enclosed specialty houses for snakes and birds.
"Where's the gator pen?" asks Owl, head spinning, looking around – not unlike his avian namesake.
"You're looking at it," says the woman with missing fingers. We step forward, and take in the fenced off interior of the oval with layers of thick chain-link fencing, at least ten feet high, encircling it. The pen is mostly water, with a small dirt island in the center – slightly larger than, though the same shape as, a pitcher's mound. We stand next to a food cart, with a large grill, housing a mound of meaty kebabs, and a plume of thick steam swirling off from it. "Gator on a Stick," it says, which I find entirely morbid, considering its proximity to the pen.
"Your Dad should be locked up," says the woman with missing fingers, finally. "Of all the crazy things I've seen."
Owl pipes up, he's all scrawny, nervous, energy at this point. "It's not his fault."
"Save it, pipsqueak," she says.
"Momma broke his heart, and he didn't take it well," he says.
"I think he's got the devil in his brainpan," she says.
"Don't say that," says Owl. "Something changed in him, that's all. It could happen to anyone. You. Me. Anyone."
"Nothing in this here world could make me do a thing like that," she says.
"How'd he get inside?" I ask.
"Don't know," she says. "He got in sometime yesterday evening before we closed. Past our security guard apparently– worthless bastard. Must have climbed up, and jumped inside. Speak o' the devil," she says. She points. We see a shadowy figure darting through a collection of trees and bushes. "He's in there, somewhere."
"Is he safe?"
"No," she says. "Of course not. Not at all."
"So what do you want us to do?"
"How the hell should I know," she says.
"I'm a kid, you can't talk like that around me," says Owl.
"Sorry," she says.
"Don't mind him," I say.
Owl scowls in my direction.
"Do you have any plan of action?" he says.
"It's just that he won't respond to anyone," she says. "We were here for half the night with park officials, trying to talk him out, but it's like he doesn't even know what's going on."
"Why didn't you just get the police down here to deal with him?"
"There's jurisdictional complications," she says.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"That they haven't been brought in yet."
We watch as the thick, spiky, reptiles mill about on the island, vie for select patches of sunlight through the trees overhead.
"Nobody's real eager to jump in there, you see," says the woman after a pause.
"They DID bite your fingers didn't they!" squeals Owl.
"It stayed with me," Owl says, years later – while seated on the chipped wooden steps of his porch, in the quiet of an early Fall evening, bobbling his two-year old on his knee.
"What did?" I ask.
"Those alligators, each one pushing, and shoving, and snapping for their bit of sunlight."
I catch eyes with my father. My father's eyes – the same color, shape, as our own – peak out through a massive tangled beard that's taken over the majority of his face. He's there, tucked within a bush and a tree. My father, the former bank manager now shirtless, wild eyed, and feral. My father, the man who'd survived a war in a desert three-forth's the way to Timbuktu, but hadn't been able to brave the split from our Momma.
I feel nothing, but pity for him seeing him there. And, strangely, anger.
Owl, then, throws himself against the chain link. He attaches, like one of those sticky hand toys you'd get from the vending machine's outside of a Sam's Club, and begins to shimmy up.
"We got their license plate in town."
"The car dipped into another lane for a moment. Didn't realize it was the kids from the missing person's report."
"Well they were."
"They went into the park."
"You didn't pursue?"
"But you called it in?"
The officer raises a hand to his face and begins to pick his teeth with a loose hangnail. Raffles snaps his fingers in front of his face.
"Stay with me, here. I said, you called it in?" says Raffles.
"So why not?"
"Why not what?"
"Why not pursue?"
"Didn't think it was worth ticketing for."
"Didn't think it was worth ticketing for?"
"No, sir."
"What kind of two-bit Barney Fife operation you got running down here?"
"We're just as god made us, sir. Plus, there's jurisdictional complications."
"There always are, aren't there."
"I guess so?"
"That wasn't a question."
He hears a car door shut, and looks back across the street. Bonnie stands on the sidewalk now, pacing back and forth in front of the large plate glass window of a karate center. Behind her, a row of ten or so boys of varying ages, resembling paper-dolls in their oversized blocky uniforms, chop and punch and kick and shout in synchronous harmony. She watches them through the window, and lights a cigarette. With her free hand, she pinches the cotton fabric of her armpit, and attempts to shake it out. She turns. Her words fly out in a nervous drove, smashing together above the quivering heat of the blacktop.
"Didtheyfindthem?Whatisgoingon?" she asks.
"Stay put, Mrs. Harris. I'll be there in a second."
Raffles, turns back around. "Do you have any idea what they're doing in the park?" he asks.
"I don't know, sir. Maybe they're having a goddamn picnic."
"Get out of there, you're gonna get yourself killed!" shouts the woman with missing fingers. She turns, and kicks at the dusty path with her work boot. "This isn't happening, no."
Owl pushes through the water, twisting his body with each step to build momentum.
"You two came here by yourselves, didn't you?" she asks me.
"If we came together, then we weren't by ourselves," I say, jaggedly.
"I mean that wasn't your mother on the phone, was it?"
"No. That was Owl."
"That was what?"
"Owl, my brother."
"Your family is a bunch of lunatics, you know that?"
We watch as Owl darts, athletically, around the perplexed alligators. He jukes, and takes a running leap past them.
"Dad! We're here, Dad!" calls Owl.
Our father, in the bushes, retreats. An alligator shuffles toward Owl. It moves more smoothly, and quickly than I imagined. It brings its jaws together. They come down with a harsh snap, like the sound of a rubber band on a forearm. The sound travels across the pond, through the fence, and reverberates off the back walls of the nearby information center at the moment that a cluster of children led by three adult chaperones exit the building, all wearing conical hats, secured by elastic underneath their chins. The group is all smiles, and shouts; a birthday party, I assume. A small girl wearing a princess tiara, holding a set of balloons in her hand, is the first to notice. She screeches and points, letting the balloons go – up and off into the air above the park. Everyone, of course, yells. They gasp. A larger crowd of park-goers move in to see what the commotion is all about. Within minutes, the path has cleared and over thirty or so people have gathered against the fence to watch. The chaperones move to cover the dozen or so children's eyes, and begin ushering them, as a group, in through the doors of a nearby penguin house, diverting any of their concerned, innocent, questions.
"They're just playing," says one.
"They're professionals," says another.
"Alligators don't eat people. They're nice creatures. They only eat vegetables," says a third.
Owl shoves up and through into the bushes. I see the two of them embrace. Owl points toward me, and I wave. My father holds his hand up, limply, and lets it hang.
Whatever spell had held our father seems, for the moment, broken.
They disappear into the thicket. And I imagine that I can hear them, faintly, but I can't.
Arthur and Owl stand in a small pocket in the brush, enveloped on all sides by the mostly artificial Evergladesian flora. The mid-day sun hangs above through canopy of branches causing gray shadows to undulate across the dusty ground at their feet. The shouts of the growing crowd outside the pen, are hardly audible here. It's calm inside, almost serene. Owl forgets, momentarily, about the alligators. Instead, he's reminded of the feeling of being younger, and hiding in the bathtub. How he'd hold his breath, and slide under the surface of the water, look up at the ceiling, and watch it jiggle. How he'd count as long as he could. How he'd hum, and make motor-boat sounds, and dispel the arguments coming from down the hall.
"Come home," says Owl through a pinched nose; the smell is gamy, unbearable, like a neglected seed pan underneath an old birdcage.
Arthur stares back at him blankly. His eyes are glazed donuts. A mosquito attaches itself to his neck, just under the fold of his chin – he does nothing, lets it drink. After a moment, he slinks back and obscures himself with a tree.
"You gotta come home," says Owl.
"I can't," he says.
"You can," says Owl.
"Something's changed in your brain."
"My brain is fine."
"Why did you leave us then?"
"I didn't feel like I was worth anything, anymore."
"But you're worth something to me. This isn't where you belong."
"Everything's too heavy."
"What's too heavy?"
"Do you feel small?"
"I know what it's like to feel small too."
"I don't mean small small. Height small."
"I know you don't."
"But you're too young to know."
"I know that the cosmos is infinite, and we're just a little speck."
Arthur looks up through an opening in the tree branches, and sees the cluster of multi-colored balloons drifting, off and way, toward the sun.
"You have to try," says Owl.
"I am. I do."
"Well try harder." Owl kicks the ground with his heel, into the dust. He hears a thick hollow sound; plastic, underneath.
"What do you know about anything?"
"What are you even doing here?"
"I thought it was one place that nobody could find me."
"You can do this."
"No, I can't."
Owl extends his hand to Arthur, who looks at it as if he can't quite figure out what to do with it.
"– Please."
Owl and my father, emerge from the bushes, together. They move in one direction, and are swiftly cut off by the newly piqued snarls of the largest of the five reptiles. I shout, and pound my fists on the fence of the pen. The woman with missing fingers, pulls me back.
"It'll be okay," she says.
"Get away from me!" I yell into her mid-riff.
Three alligators now circle the bushes. Owl and my father move in another direction. No luck. Owl shrieks. My father pounds his hands across his chest like a gorilla. One of the gators opens it's mouth. I see a glimmer of its teeth, like smooth, bone-white, stalactites, and stalagmites lining the entrance of a cave.
The crowd encircling the pen has grown – fifty plus I'd guess – and has pushed up to the fence, yelling. The woman with missing fingers steps forward. "Keep moving people! Nothing to see here!" she says, but nobody listens. Not even for a second. I look across their faces, and I hate them. I know why they are there standing there; that they – although who would ever admit it? – want to witness something tragic.
The circle of gators parts. The largest of the alligators lifts itself out from the pool of water, and up onto the island. His back glistens; the sheen and jagged texture of crumpled tin-foil. He lumbers toward them. He snaps his jaws. Owl and my father hop backward. Owl, reaches up and grabs a tree branch. He pulls himself up, walking his feet up the base of it. He hangs like a sloth.
"Up here!"
My father tries to follow, up the tree. He grabs at a different branch, but it buckles, and splinters and cracks in his hands.
He falls to his knees in front of the alligator.
The alligator snaps. The broken branch lands at my father's side. He grabs at it, and swings, pivoting on his bare heels. The branch connects with the beast in the side of the head. It recoils.
"Don't hurt it! Just get out of there!" shouts the women with missing fingers.
And then Owl begins to slip. He yells. His glasses fall off his face, below him. He falls hard on his back with an "ooompth." Dust kicks up around him. I hear him groan. He fumbles blindly for his glasses, but can't find them. Our father sees Owl on the ground, and remains immobile, whether for fear or whatever is paralyzing him. The large gator thrusts forward, suddenly, and nearly catches him in the meaty part of his calf.
The gator changes course, and moves in toward Owl. My father bolts over to the moving alligator, and begins clubbing it over the head. It thrashes and snarls. He jumps back.
Owl's feet spin underneath him, and he stands. He snatches up his glasses. He shoots forward, toward the wading pool as the gator's tail whips across the ground, with phenomenal torque, connecting just below the knee, and sweeps Owl's legs out from under him. He cries out and floats sideways, across the surface of the pool, before landing face first. He hangs there, arms outstretched, motionless. His oversized t-shirt billows out like the skin of a flying squirrel, drifting across the surface.
"Owl!" I shout.
He remains still.
"Owl, get up! Get up!"
My father looks over at Owl, and dives headfirst on the top of the gators back. The gator instinctively barrel rolls across the dust spinning with my father, who clings on. It twists, and thrashes. I see a mark on my father's forehead; a line of blood, like a strand of maroon yarn, being pulled down the side of his face, his neck, and shoulders, collecting in a growing spool against what is left of his t-shirt. He's thrown free from the alligator and hobbles up. He dives out into the water and scoops Owl up with his arms like a fork-lift. Owl rests motionless against his chest. He pushes against the force of the waist-high water. The alligator from the island reorientates its itself, finds its target, and slips silently into the water. The crowd screams, and points, collectively.
I realize that I've been crying. I can't stand on the side any longer, I take off toward the pen, scramble against the chain link fence when I feel a wide hand grab the straps of my overalls, and toss me aside. I buckle and fall, back into the dust, rubbing my knees raw. A large shadow overtakes me. A figure steps up to the fence. I look up, and see her running toward me in her jean shorts.
"Mother?" I ask.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The shots ring out above my head.
Several darts lodge into the thick skin of the ancient beast. I see it's head lower down onto the surface of the water, and it floats, motionless, like a piece of scaly drift-wood. The remaining alligators scatter to the edges of the pen.
Lt. Raffles lowers his gun, and removes his sunglasses. "Tranquilizer," he says.
"What a professional," says the woman with missing fingers.
I'm knocked to the ground, again, this time with a hug. Momma holds on to me so tight that I can't even try to stand back up. I can feel her heart about to tear through her shirt. She is covered in sweat, and remains silent. She reaches her hand out toward Owl. I hear a pained release of air escape from her open mouth, her breath is sour against my face.
"Momma, your breath," I say.
My father reaches dry land, just outside the fence. He lays Owl on the ground in the grass, and stands over him. Owl's eyes remain closed, his face expressionless, his arms at his sides, limp.
Momma jumps up, she springs to the fence. "Owl, baby, honey, wake up, wake up."
He places his hands together and pumps Owl once, twice, three times, against the chest. A rush of grimy water spills out of his mouth, and across his shirt. His eyes flutter open, and he looks around, confused. He coughs up another mouthful of water, and gasps for air.
"Am I dead?" he asks, finally, to the twitter of the cheering crowd.
"No," says my father. "No, you're alive. You're okay. You're alive."
Unsurprisingly, we are grounded when we return home. Over the next few days, Momma is so upset she uses combinations of words we've never heard her use before. Words that rhyme with duck, and spit.
"I just don't know what to say to you both," she says, while fighting through a mixing bowl of instant mashed potatoes with a whisk. Globs of the newly thickened white substance drop to the linoleum floor with a wet pop as she waves off our protests, our side of the story. Her eyes though, remain fixed in the living room, on our father, who lies on his side, on the couch, his hands together propped under his head like a pillow, staring through the glow of the television, and into the wall.
I give up on Momma, and walk into the living room.
"Hey Dad," I say, but he doesn't respond. I put my hand on his shoulder. I realize after a moment that, while my father's eyes are open, he's snoring. As I walk away, I hear him cough. I turn back around to face him and see that he's now looking up at me.
"What's up Dad?" I ask.
He doesn't answer. He remains silent and still, keeping eye contact. I can't tell if he's slipped back into sleep or not.
"There's work that needs to be done," he says.
"Sure," I say. "But you should get some sleep first."
The telephone rings. I see my mother wince, pick it up, answer, and take it into the pantry. Owl motions for me, and I hurry back into the kitchen. We grab two empty glasses, and push up against the door. We place them against the pantry door and listen in.
"Okay," our mother says. We hear an excited squeaky voice on the other end of the line. "What exactly are the charges going to be?" she says, after a moment.
The pantry door swings open. Owl drops his glass onto the ground. It shatters upon impact. Tiny shards glide across the floor like miniature ice skaters.
Her eyes are bloodshot. Her face looks worn. I notice the deep ridges carved in her forehead.
"To your room," she says, placing her hand over the phone. "Both of you! Now!"
Later that night, from our bedroom, we hear a sound; a sputtering, mechanical, sound.
"What's that?" I ask.
Owl shakes his head.
We each hop out of bed, and move up to the triangular window, in our slanted roofed – converted attic – and look down, out into the yard. The yard is dark, save for an illuminated, pyramid shaped section in the middle, from the back porch floodlight. The sound grows louder, and more pronounced. We see a long shadow projected across the yard now, expanding, devouring the light. And he appears, moving slowly, riding atop the lawnmower, cutting a horizontal strip out of the knee-high grass. His beard is gone. He stares straight ahead into the dark. Our father.
The rumbles continue for an hour or so, before cutting out abruptly.
"Check it out," Owl says, later, while seated in the windowsill.
"We got school in the morning," I say, muffled, with my head under the pillow like an ostrich.
"I can't hear you," he says.
I sit, up and drift over to the window.
"Look," he says.
I look down. "What?" I ask. "He cut the grass, how cool."
"Look closer," says Owl. He begins to trace the mowed lines with his finger along the window.
I see it now. The grass is cut erratically, a random assortment of criss-crossed lines and concentric circles, filled in with tufts of still-tall grass.
"What do you think it means?" asks Owl.
We hear a knock on the door.
"Come in," I say.
Our mother walks into the room, followed by our father on her arm, showered, shaved, bandaged. It's the first time we'd seen them standing next to each other in months.
We ask what's wrong – we expect more punishment after all – but instead, silently, they move up to the windowsill and squeeze Owl and I close together, as if – should they let go – we would untether from their grasp and drift out through the window, off into the cosmos, where we would be alone, and our insides would turn to mashed potatoes, and our heads would pop like party balloons.
And they thank us, thank us, thank us.
Postcard: Found at the Antique Warehouse Mall in Memphis, TN in October 2011.


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Remembering Jim Henson
It's hard to believe that it has been 23 years since Jim's passing on May 16, 1990. Share your memories of May 16, 1990 and the impact Jim Henson continues to have on your life.
Ack! I need help......
Discussion in 'Fraggle Rock' started by PanthraDion, Jul 20, 2012.
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Rogers Mayor's State of the City Address
By: Lisa Mendenhall
Updated: January 23, 2013
Rogers Mayor Greg Hines delivered his annual State of the City Address Tuesday night.
From Rogers Animal Servies to the Public Library to the Municipal Airport, Hines praised his community and its programs for their continuing committment to serve residents.
He also noted the city's business boom that brought dozens of new businesses and jobs to Rogers in 2012 and the improving transportation infrastructure inthe city as well.
Here's a portion of the mayor's speech:
"I can tell you that the state of the city has never been better. We continue to be a leader in the state on the economic front as the state and the country slowly recovers from one of the worst fiscal collapses in our nation's history. The success of Rogers and Northwest Arkansas continue to be led by the founding principles of strong leadership from our business community, the commitment to education, state of the art health care, a history of successful public-private partnerships, and the spirit of our people."
"As we continue to be a leader in the state, it is imperative that we continue to invest in quality of life amenities in the city. Anchored by the passage of the 2011 bond election, many improvements are in the final planning stages or can already be seen throughout the city."
To read Mayor Hines' complete State of the City Address, CLICK HERE.


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The streets of historic Old Town transform into an art extravaganza at this year's Old Town San Diego Art Festival. On Saturday, October 1, and Sunday, October 2, from 10am-6pm, the Old Town Chamber of Commerce invites you to experience a world full of colorful art, live music, international food, and exotic wines. Stroll down San Diego Avenue, filled with over 100 artists in a variety of mediums.
The festival features an array of paintings, sculptures, ceramics, jewelry, and furniture, while also highlighting local neighborhood art galleries. This year's festival will showcase artesian ceramic sculptor, Moni Blom, who specializes in creating whimsical and expressive figurative clay sculptures and masks using vibrant colors, often adding metal wires and gold leaf to her sculptures. Also, a member of the clay associates organization, Blom has been working with clay for about 30 years.
For the kiddos, there will be an interactive Children's Area, where kids will learn the process of creating, shaping, and decorating clay tiles. Local artists will also be on hand to teach kids how to nurture their inventiveness and originality on a canvas.
Celebrating the progression of the automobile, an awesome display of horseless carriages and classic cars like the Thunderbird will be on display along the streets of historic Old Town. In addition, pleasure your palates to an array of incredible flavors from over a dozen local restaurants and delicious food vendors. Perks also include a craft beer and wine tasting pavilion. After lunch, a myriad of jazzy musicians will take over the stage with earthy rhythm and eclectic beats in the Old Town San Diego State Historic Park.
All proceeds benefit The Old Town San Diego Chamber of Commerce. (619/233-5008, www.oldtownartfestival.com)


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History has a way of repeating itself.
Don't believe me?
Then look at what happened with the recent LaFollette Police Chief selection. There were a slew of qualified candidates vying for the position. A position that will entail curtailing a meth epidemic, raising the morale of the officers and battling the city council for autonomy
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Become part of something. Support the collection and enjoy exclusive benefits including special events and unlimited free entry to exhibitions. Only £50* (£35* if you're under 26).
Current appeal: help raise £100,000 for the Museum's World Conservation and Exhibitions Centre
Contact us
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Bedroom projects are always in the works in the houses of Hometalk members. Folk are redoing master bedrooms, updating guest bedrooms, and building cool stuff in kids' bedrooms. Are you looking for inspiration for a bedroom project? Browse photos of Hometalk members' bedroom projects. Or, post your own photos of your bedroom to get feedback from the Hometalk community. On Hometalk, you will discover all the latest trends in bedroom décor. Hometalkers love to post bedroom projects, so join the conversation.
Design & Décor: Mirrored Bedroom Wall
Hello, I have a wall in my bedroom that has really become quite an eyesore. The ENTIRE wall is mirrored!! It is 8ft high and approximately 11 ft wide. I have contemplated building shelves
I would love to see a photo of the room and the lay out of the furniture. It would really help ...»
I would like to put risers on my queen bed and use under the bed for extra storage but I dont know where to get or how
to make a bed skirt that will be long enough to hide under my bed any suggestions?
Design & Décor: Our guest "bedroom" is part of a family room
I'm wondering how to delineate the sleeping area from the rest of the room. The bed and tables occupy one corner. The rest of the room has two chairs and a reclining couch, as well as a
I would actually recommend a Murphy bed where it looks like a piece of furniture during the ...»
Design & Décor: Guest room/Grandsons room
I need ideas in decorating a bedroom that will be my four year old grandsons when he stays over and can be a guest room when we have guests. The room will have a full size bed and has corner window seats with storage.
A simple way that I have found effective is to use the things my grandchildren are comfortable ...»
My granddaughter and I made a headboard for her double bed when she was in law school. She ...»
Bedroom: Linen sheets? Yay or nay?
I'm considering investing (yes investing!) in a set of linen sheets. These are not inexpensive (at least in my book) because so far my biggest splurge was 100% organic cotton. So, the question is, has anyone out there purchased linen sheets and do you think it's a good choice? I love the look of them but have never had them. Thanks!
Crafts: Looking for a recycling craft to do with my young granddaughter for her room makeover.
I am looking for a recycling craft to do with my granddaughter. I have some baby animal pictures that I want to recycle into a usable decor piece for her room makeover. I have designed
Very interesting idea... I never thought about that. I have never done typography before. I ...»
I would like to refinish a night table to use for a baby.
It is made of pine and has a stained finish.
bedroom dresser substitute
i would like to find another substitute for my bedroom dresser since it takes up lots of room in the bedroom.. any suggestions?
If you don't mind buyine one obline here are some options: http://www.etsy.com/search/handmade/furnitur... ...»
Design & Décor: Can someone give me some idea how to put furniture together will make this one bedroom look good and fit 2 teens and
two adults? Each person should have their own bed. I would like to have lot of storage. See floor plan attached. :-)


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Paint finish is critical to any job's success – especially in property management. Curb appeal sells. And, it's more than likely that prospective tenants or buyers will pass by a property with a lackluster, peeling paint job without even bothering to see what's inside, no matter how posh it might be.
Before your painters pick up that brush or roller or aim that sprayer, consider the numerous factors involved in achieving an attractive, durable finish on new surfaces or repainted ones.
Questionable substrates, new materials, workmanship, time constraints, scheduling conflicts and tight budgets combine to make a quality, profitable finish more difficult than ever to achieve. That's why primers – as mundane and ordinary as they may seem – are key to the final outcome of any paint job.
Contrary to popular belief, primers aren't just a form of "cheap paint." Using the right primer in the right situation can make the difference between a surface with washed-out color or penetrating stains and one that has a bright, resilient, durable finish.


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Creating a wine lover's kitchen
Moira Moynihan-Manoog and Charlie Manoog's kitchen was designed for cooking, eating, drinking and entertaining. Wine is a central component of all four activities, making their kitchen one for wine lovers.2012 Domaine Bousquet Chardonnay
We spend a lot of time, figuratively speaking, in the foothills of the Andes, where Argentinas high and dry Mendoza region produces some of the worlds most reliable wines, many of them value priced. The splendid 2012 Domaine Bousquet Chardonnay (about $12 at wine savvy markets) comes to us unoaked and fermented on the lees from organically grown grapes, yielding a white wine very true to its terroir and a boon companion to food.Hairdresser 'Kenneth' Battelle dies at age 86
NEW YORK — Kenneth Battelle, the hairdresser who gave both Jacqueline Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe their calling-card hairdos in the 1950s and '60s, has died at age 86, said Kevin Lee, creative director of Battelle's company, on Tuesday.Colossal head sculptures grace NY Botanical Garden
NEW YORK — The New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx has a fanciful new sculpture exhibition that's hard to miss.Adulthood delayed: Clark professor says the kids are all right
For parents worried about children in their 20s who hop from job to short-term job, switch romantic partners with the seasons, alter educational paths and "boomerang" back home — spoiler alert! By the time they're 30, the kids will, for the most part, be all right.See how some theater veterans have fared on TV
NEW YORK The slow, lingering demise of Smash has felt more like a punch to the gut to the folks on Broadway.


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Movie Reviews by Cinema Siren
Review: Is Les Misérables Oscar-worthy?
Great acting makes you join in their crusade.
The film makers want to ask you: "Will you join in their crusade?" After much promotion and fanfare, a new musical film interpretation of Les Misérables is opening nationwide. For you non-"Mis" folk, the story is of Prisoner 24601 Jean Valjean, who breaks parole, is hunted relentlessly by Inspector Javert and encounters various troubled and impoverished characters in post-revolutionary France. Based on the 1862 novel by Victor Hugo, it is beloved by generations of musical theater fans. The musical version of the movie was a risky undertaking, but now promises a huge pay-off to the studio, cast, and crew, thanks largely to a career topping job by several of the lead actors. The endless marketing about the actors singing live has also …


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Courtney actually made this while her kids were napping. Talk about a woman on a mission ;)
The addition of the trim gave this slip cover the perfect finishing touch.
I love that Kim added pom-pom fringe to these curtains. Kim, can you come to my house?
The frilly skirt adds a nice feminine touch to this sofa.
reupholstered chair: Restoration House
This chair looks like a million dollars, and it has my wheels turning for a little project of my own.
Have you used painter's canvas in a recent project?
Feel free to link it below.
Don't worry if it is an old project, just link it.
The link will remain open until Friday.


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Are you looking to start a chocolate business? Want to talk to others who've been there or done that - or have you been there and done it and want to share with others? This is the place to discuss it.
Location: Worldwide
Members: 476
Latest Activity: on Monday
Since 1855 Savage Bros. has manufactured confectionery machinery. Their chocolate and candy making equipment are recognized worldwide for long lived quality and reliability. From these 19th century roots in the industry, Savage Bros. strives to meet its customers' equipment needs with well designed and manufactured machinery. They specialize in taking new and growing businesses to the next level by streamlining their production process.
Quality chocolate is one of Savage Bros' passions, thus they offer a wide array of chocolate processing equipment for the artisan chocolatier — from chocolate melters and temperers to single mold filling workstations with depositors and built-in vibrators. And more!
Do you make great chocolates? Know everything there is to know about tempering chocolate and cooking the perfect caramel? Able to turn out thousands of finished chocolates without blinking any eye?
Does the thought of using Quickbooks or writing a business plan sends you screaming into the walk-in begging for mercy?
This group is for you. When you join, please introduce yourself to the group in a comment on this page. Yes, I know you have a profile page, but it would be great to have you add a few words about you and your business in the context of this group. If you have a website, feel free to post a link to it. Please don't post a link to your profile page, people can just click on your profile photo to visit that.
PS. Below is the full picture I used for the Group photo. It's a chocolate store/cafe in Mexico. Those are stone mills (the kind Taza uses) to the right of the guy with his back to you in the blue shirt and notice that they are selling beans. The stone mills suggest that this store is located in Oaxaca.
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Hey Startup Central. My name is Andrew Montroy. I live in Raleigh NC. I want to follow my dream of starting a Chocolate Cafe. I have never owned my own business before, so the task is very daunting and exciting at the same time. All and any input is welcomed. I am going to start a blog documenting my process, so please comment on it anytime you want. Thanks and I look forward to building a relationship with the group!
Hi everyone!
I'm from Rome in Italy (but I live in a neighbouring village). I started do home chocolates in 2004, since I attended two professional courses at Castalimenti in Brescia, with the extraordinary Man and Master Eliseo Tonti. I sell them just twice a year and my customers have been constantly increasing, together with my chocolate passion.
Now I'm working to open an ecological chocolate workshop even if in Italy is very difficult change work. This is my goal for the near future!
I'm very glad to join this community. Thanks all!
Hi everyone!
I'm brand new to working with chocolate. I'd actually never tempered before December 31...I was determined to start the new year doing something I'd never done before, so I made truffles. This snowballed into realizing that someone had to eat all those truffles if I wanted to make more and experiment with new flavors. Then I thought it might be nice if I could sell the truffles so that I'd have money to buy more chocolate with. Now here we are, less than 2 months into the year and I find myself running a business...not that I know how to run a business! I've been an administrative professional in the construction field, a customer service agent in a call center, a licensed counselor, a non-profit program manager, and I'm also an actress and a musician, so I know little bits about how all those businesses operate, but I've never had to pull it all together and do it for a business of my own. Thankfully, Arizona allows me to make confections out of my home kitchen and I've found a farmers market craft fair that doesn't require the $1M liability insurance and an up-front fee to reserve a space that most places do around here. Selling at the craft fair is helping me build some buzz, and my local friends have been very supportive. I've registered the business with the state and I have all my health department stuff squared away, but every time I turn around there's something new I haven't considered--insurance (still waiting on quotes), taxes (it takes 4 weeks for them to process the form by mail?!), a business checking account (to open with what money?), a business plan (wait, you mean beyond, "I think I'll do those vanilla truffles again, people really responded well to those"?) ... I'm constantly feeling like I went about this all wrong, but I just can't stop! I'm determined to make this work.
I've named the business "Sweets by 5ftLatina" and I have a website at www.5ftLatina.com/sweets that's still under construction and a Facebook page at facebook.com/Sweetsby5ftLatina that has most of my info and pictures etc.
I'm really looking forward to being a part of this community and so glad I found others I can have discussions with who share my passion!
Kathryn James
Hi Everyone,
I am a mother of two, with my first child(and only daughter) off to college, I recently decided to take my passion for chocolate and open a small retail space with a production kitchen in my home town.
I have been renting a certified kitchen but cost is becaming too high. I started my business as home based and attended a lot of shows and charity events to sell. My following has grown and I now have a number of corporate clients and events who order regularly.
I am hoping to open my space in late spring 2012. My backround is in marketing and accounting, but I am rusty on the accounting side.
I have refered to the Chocolate Life for information, inspiration and I love the classifieds.
I do have a website: http:riverforestchocolates.com for info and visuals only.
I am on Facebook, a regular Constant Contact newletter user, have a brief Utube video(link through my website) and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.com
Thanks and keep posting-I love it!
Donna Fantetti-Slepicka
Hi Everyone,
I am in Nelson, B.C.... my husband and I are very near the completion of renovating our garage to be a certified kitchen. I already have a medicinal tea business (still small) and I am intrigued by the idea of including herbs into chocolate. I've been experimenting already, with milk and dark, tempering it with the cold water bath method... I'm using untempered organic chocolate. So far, so good, from what I can tell.
Now, to build the kitchen to be suitable for chocolate making...
I may be asking lot's of questions in the near future...
Thanks in advance for any suggestions and for your patience!
P.S so far I am self-taught, but I hope to take a course one day...
Hi All, I'm another soon-to-be-graduate of Ecole Chocolate. I'm planning to set up a business in Bogota, Colombia. Chocolate as a drink is very popular here but chocolate as a gourmet food is relatively novel. My plan is to transform the "maid's room" in my apartment into a small chocolate workshop and build from there.
Happy to meet everyone.
I've been reading a learning from this group for about 3 months now. I'm just about finished with ecolechocolat chocolatier course and am looking forward to starting and building a small chocolatier business in the town I'm now living in.
This is my first group enrollment. I have worked since the last 9 years for several michelin chefs in london and USA. I am currently in San Francisco and am interested in all things chocolate.
Hope this is an adequate introduction.
Thank you and have a nice day.
I hate to take up anyone's time, but since Clay invited us to say hello, I'll say "Hi" to the group.
I am a very small volume, client-only artisan chocolatier (i.e., still have a day job). I've been at this for about 8 years, and have built up a substantial fan base of customers, but do not consider myself a retail enterprise. I am passionate about the art and craft and, frankly, the science, which to science-nerds like me is amazing.
I won't pretend I fully understand why people tell me they love my creations. (No, not just friends and family.) Maybe it's because so many people have never had truly fresh chocolates before the subtle volatiles have dissipated. Maybe it's because I use time-consuming "old style" methods. Maybe it's because of the secret ingredients I've learned to add or maybe because I put my customers' money into high quality ingredients, not packaging, keeping my prices reasonable. Or maybe it's just because they just think it's funny that a medical doctor makes chocolates. I don't know. But, it's hard to argue with the feedback I get, and while I'm trying to keep this a truly small, artisan activity, if the demand increases, I may enter the commercial world, and if I do, I'm sure I'll be totally clueless on the legalities, regulations, etc. I hope to read the wisdom of others (and The Chocolate Life is great for wisdom!) as I explore "what's next."
Thank you for listening and best of luck to all who work with this amazing substance.
-Bruce A. Mann, Chief Chocolate Officer, Mann Made Chocolate
PS: if you're one of those Facebook types, we're on facebook.com/mannmadechocolate. The real website is "under construction" at MannMadeChocolate.com
Follow Clay on:
Twitter :: @DiscoverChoc
F'Book :: TheChocolateLife
F'Book Group :: LaVidaCocoa
Paper.li :: @DiscoverChoc
© 2013 Created by Clay Gordon.


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teriparatide - injection, Forteo GENERIC NAME: TERIPARATIDE - INJECTION (TER-i-PAR-a-tide)BRAND NAME(S): ForteoWarning | Medication Uses | How To Use | Side Effects | Precautions | Drug Interactions | Overdose | Notes | Missed Dose | Storage WARNING: Teriparatide has been shown to increase bone tumors (osteosarcoma) in rats. However, this occurred at doses higher than the usual human dose. It is unknown if this medication can cause bone tumors in humans. Therefore, this medication should not be used by people with increased risk for bone tumors (including people with Paget's disease of bone or people who had radiation treatment involving the bones). USES: Teriparatide is used to treat bone loss (osteoporosis) in people who have a high risk of getting fractures. It is similar to a natural hormone in your body (parathyroid hormone). It works by increasing bone mass and strength. This effect helps to decrease the risk of getting a fracture.This medication is not recommended for use in children or young adults whose bones are still growing.
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Web edition: April 20, 2012
Print edition: May 5, 2012; Vol.181 #9 (p. 4)
May 16
Test your mettle at science trivia night at Washington, D.C.'s Koshland Science Museum. Prizes go to the winning team. See bit.ly/SFtrivia
May 19
The Orlando Science Center holds a Science of Wine event, with educational events and wines from around the world. More information at bit.ly/SFoscwine
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Hugo Chavez is alive and well and the Venezuelan government has the photos to prove it.
Venezuela's Minister of Communication and Information, Ernesto Villegas Poljak, announced Friday that President Chavez was recovering and breathing through a tracheal tube, in the first official statement government officials have made regarding the president since he underwent his latest cancer surgery on Dec. 11 in Cuba.
Villegas' speech was complemented by the unveiling of four photos that serve as the ailing President's proof of life. In the pictures, Chavez is all smiles as he's laying in bed accompanied by his daughters Rosa and Maria Gabriela. Some of the photos show the President looking at Thursday's issue of the Cuban Communist Party newspaper Granma.
The government released the photos amid widespread speculation about Chavez' condition following his 68-day absence from his presidential duties. The president had not been seen or heard of since he traveled to Cuba in December.
Villegas explained that Chavez' breathing conditions arose after surgery, although a certain grade of breathing insufficiency persists.
The minister added that Cuban doctors were applying vigorous treatment to his fundamental illness and expressed he was very grateful for the love and care showed by Cuban leaders Raul and Fidel Castro.
The 58-year-old president has been undergoing cancer treatment in Cuba since he was diagnosed in June 2011.
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7 Meetup Groups match "Islam" near Emeryville, CA
Meetup details are available only to members.
This is a meetup for muslims who would like to meet other muslims. This is not so much to have religious discussions, but simply to meet others who have been brought up as muslims, and have family ties into Islam, but are not traditionally "very religious". We will have social events such as dinners and group outings ... just like all the other singles groups :) Given it's hard to find people that fall into this category, let's do our best to meetup socialize and have a great time. Please …
There are no upcoming Meetups.
*learn authentic traditional Sufism, the mystical tradition of Islam. *we'd be doing energy (faydh, baraka) transmission, illumination of the chakra-like energy centers in the human body (lata'if), step-by-step progression along the structured sufi path (suluk), experience the attraction (jadhdhba). *we'd do meditation and learn how to do silent zikr 24 hours a day every moment. *we'd also study the energy-filled baraka-laden sacred scriptutures, the writings by our Imam the Great Mujaddid …
There are no upcoming Meetups.
"Lets get together for affordable fun activities in East Bay for Modern Muslim women. If you like to be part of a group who don't judge you based on how you dress but like to have fun, join my group. This is a group for any Muslim women interested in hiking, camping, picnic, movie nights, restaurant, and adventures. I started this group because to meet other professional Muslim women like myself in east bay. Looking forward to our first meeting.
There are no upcoming Meetups.
This group is for anyone who wants to deepen their spirituality, and who seek a safe and welcome environment. We practice Shadhiliyya Sufism, but the group is open to any religion or spirituality. Our Santa Cruz community is slowly budding, and we would like to offer you more resources to expand your spiritual horizons. We are connected to the University of Spiritual Healing and Sufism, which offers teleclasses accessible anywhere, events in the Napa area, and resources for the Sufi newbie. We a …
Meetup details are available only to members.
We are attempting to try to start a group for Muslims in the South Bay Area - no specific agenda - we can do anything from getting together for game nights, having discussions about religion/politics, having a book club, or trying different restaurants....just getting together and having a good time =) Whether you are single/married/or have a family; if you are newcomers to the bay area or have lived here your whole life - everyone is welcome. Just join in an attempt to expand your social circle …
There are no upcoming Meetups.
We are a group of spiritual seekers on the Shadhiliyya Sufi path of peace, love, mercy, freedom, and justice. We welcome anyone of any faith interested in connecting with Divine Love and living from a place of peace and love.
There are no upcoming Meetups.
This is where open-minded, progressive, Muslim-American, San Francisco residents get together to celebrate Ramadan together. Maybe each day we can try a new restaurant. Ideally, the members would all be non-judgmental, open-minded, progressive people who are interested in meeting people from all walks of life. The more diverse the better. https://www.facebook.com/groups/SFMuzlimz/
Get an alert email when new Meetup Groups like this start near you.
You'll get advice, help finding members, and tools to make running a Meetup Group easier.


text:
More than half of all women suffer from acne during pregnancy. Free of benzoil peroxide, alpha hydroxy and salicylic acid, Bella B Foaming Facewash is the perfect solution for your sensitive skin.
Bella B Foaming Facewash, Amazon $15
More than half of all women suffer from acne during pregnancy. Free of benzoil peroxide, alpha hydroxy and salicylic acid, Bella B Foaming Facewash is the perfect solution for your sensitive skin.
Bella B Foaming Facewash, Amazon $15
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KW Variant 3 Inox Coilovers - Perfect Street Performance - State of the art technology direct from Motorsport for more performance on the road. The separate and independently adjustable rebound and compression damping allows for an individual suspension setup for different uses and preferences. The unique patented system with its two stage valves allows a rebound damping adjustment (comfort) and a compression adjustment (driving dynamics) in the low speed range while the high speed range which controls the driving safety, is fixed.
* Damping technology with individually adjustable rebound and compression technology.
* Inox line Stainless Steel technology. (Exchange struts are zinc plated).
* Individually height adjustable.
* Adjustment parameters approved by the German Technical Control Board (TUV).
* High quality components for long durability.
* Infinitely variable rebound damping adjustment.
* 14 way adjustable compression damping.
* Unique, individually working damping force adjustment.
* Comprehensive documentation for easy use.
Compression and rebound adjustment
As far as it's vehicle specifically possible, the rebound damping is adjusted by a spindle at the end of the piston rod. Mainly, the traction phase (rebound) controls car body vibrations and also influences handling and comfort in the low speed damping range. By using the traction phase adjustment, the vehicle can be adapted to the requirements of the driver. Moreover the driving behaviour can be regulated from comfortably rolling to sporty and tense with improved road holding characteristics.
The compression phase adjustment is carried out at the lower end of the shock absorber via our patented multi purpose valve. The large number of pre set parameters of this valve allows for a wide range of adjustment for individual use. The unique low speed compression adjustment significantly distinguishes this technology from any other. In this compression range, the driving behaviour of the vehicle is drastically influenced. An increase of the damping power supports the vehicle already during compression and therefore avoids rolling and pitching. The directional stability is significantly improved.


text:
Please note: this item is made to order and cannot be refunded once the order has been placed.
For such items please note that we will not be able to change any such orders, make a refund or exchange any item that has been entered into production as per the customer's specification e.g. in a specific finish or upholstery colour.
Complete The Look
Established & Sons WrongWoods Low Cabinet
Established & Sons are passionate about quality and in order to ensure every product is 100% there may be delays in production. We will update you by email and/or phone at every stage of the process.
Delivery time: 8-12 weeks
Please note this item is made to order.
The Established & Sons WrongWoods Low Cabinet derives its style from the post war modernist furniture that championed plywood as a new building material. The emphasis of the Established & Sons WrongWoods Low Cabinet is on form, function, construction and material.
Designer: Sebastian Wrong
We're sorry but this product is currently unavailable.
Please email firstname.lastname@example.com to express your interest and we'll be in touch as soon as it is back in production.
Height: 64.5cm x Length: 150cm x Depth: 40.5cm
Materials & Finishes
Ply and timber construction with paint and clear lacquer.
Help & Advice
For expert advice please contact us on 0114 243 3000 or +44(0) 114 243 3000.
Alternatively, email any questions to email@example.com


text:
An Ocean of Stories
An Ocean of StoriesTales told for SEED by storyteller Laura Simms
Ocean of Stories Animation
Our differences are breathtaking—the variety of peoples, landscapes, languages, cultures, belief systems, and stories throughout the world … what connects us, however, is twofold:
Welcome to An Ocean of Stories, part of the SEED Water Project where you can explore folktales about water from around the world and find activities that will help you create stories—from your own imagination or by working with others. We also invite you to share these stories, in word or image, on the SEED web site. Following are thirty-one stories from twenty-nine countries who are part of the SEED Community. These stories are offered to inform, inspire and delight. But mostly they are offered to be shared and to remind us of our common human history and our dependence on water to keep us alive. An Ocean of Stories © Copyright 2006 Laura Simms |


text:
Hi Marion:Welcome to the Phaeton forum, we're glad you are here.
I also own a 2004 W12 Phaeton. The owner manual for my car specifies 'G12' coolant, as shown in the scanned image below. To the best of my knowledge, this means you use the coolant shown in the picture below that. The text in the owner manual is a bit ambiguous - although it suggests that the 'purple coloured' G12 is desirable, it also states very clearly that we can use 'red' G12, or even G11. The liquid in the jug shown in the picture below is sort of a bright fluorescent red colour. I asked the Phaeton technician at my VW dealership about this, and he told me that it was 'for sure' perfectly OK to use the stuff shown in the picture. By the way, he also drives a Phaeton, and I trust his judgement absolutely.
You may also want to have a peek at these past discussions about coolant:
"Insufficient Coolant" Advisory Message
F265 Map Controlled Engine Thermostat Replacement (W12 - BAP)Some other great resources for you as a new Phaeton owner include our Phaeton Forum 'Table of Contents' (FAQ by Category) - especially the section entitled 'Questions New Phaeton Owners Have Asked', and the excellent team of support specialists available to you at the Phaeton Customer Care Center, who can be reached toll free by dialling 1 (877) 742-3866.
Best regards, happy motoring,


text:
By: Shayna Halper
Updated: February 17, 2013
FREDERICK, MD- Officials say the man who lives at this house on Cherokee Trail in Frederick is facing criminal charges.
They say Eric Myers exchanged Facebook messages with a woman, who says Myers agreed to pay her money for a photo shoot.
Officials say the woman tells them she agreed to model fully clothed. Now, police are reminding the public to be cautious of any agreements or meetings they plan online.
"Anytime you meet someone, whether you know them or not, you need to use caution. When you're going to enter into a business arrangement, whether modeling or other types of incidents, you know you have to outline what exactly it is that's going to be captured during that session," says Lt. Clark Pennington, of the Frederick Police Department.
Officials say the man wouldn't let the woman leave the house after he asked her to get undressed, inappropriately touched her, and exposed himself.
Neighbors say they aren't use to hearing about something like this in their community.
"It's a family type neighborhood, but its a quite neighborhood, the most noise we is probably when the air traffic comes through."
"This investigation has been going on a couple weeks. We didn't want to take too long because of the gravity of the situation, so we moved it along quite quickly, we wanted to consult with state's attorney's office and we pressed charges," says Pennington.
They say the victim is an adult, and she was not seriously hurt during the incident.
Officials say Myers is facing charges of assault, false imprisonment, sex offense, and indecent exposure.


text:
P R E S S R E L E A S E : Result brings Spray - Europe's oldest portal brand - to the stock exchange, forming new social media & entertainment group.
9 September 2010The business builders of Result, led by CEO Ola Ahlvarsson, have formed a new media group by consolidating their interests in Spray, Passagen, Bidster and SIME within Keynote Media (Nasdaq OMX: KEY). Keynote also operates Nöjesguiden (Sweden's oldest and largest entertainment magazine), Rodeo (a leading fashion magazine), Sellbranch (a sales house for web and mobile advertising), and a number of entertainment services.


text: Take all your gear all the way to Old Trafford with this official Manchester United backpack from Nike. This bag has three compartments including both outer and inner zip compartments with two mesh water bottle holders on the outside. The Manchester United team badge and Nike Swoosh logo are printed on the front. 12" x 16" x 6", 100% polyester.


text: Cozy mountain Pine Canyon retreat includes a floor to ceiling natural stone fireplace and spacious great room. Rustic wood and beams form the vaulted ceilings. State of the art kitchen and wrought iron railings upstairs along with a bonus room are included. There is a dream master suite and amazing deck furnished for entertaining. Amazing views of the Peaks and golf course complete this perfect home!


text:
We have a Web application that has a rather hefty ApplicationContext that loads via the normal ContextLoaderListener.
Next up, we have a few MDBs that we need to setup that also needs the use of the beans in this ApplicationContext. We noticed that every time ejbCreate is called on the MDB, that AbstractMDB creates the ApplicationContext from our definition files. This seems to be a very resource exspensive setup.
Is there a way for the MDBs and the Web app to share a common ApplicationContext? I looked at http://forum.springframework.org/showthread.php?t=11492 and the threads it references. And I basically understand what the SingletonBeanFactoryLocator is doing, but I am trying to understand where to instantiate it. And how I would get AbstractMDB to use it?


text:
Yankee Candle® QuickScent Quick Melting Candle Kit - Clean Cotton
Yankee Candle® QuickScent Quick Melting Candles offer authentic, true-to-life Yankee Candle® fragrances with candles that melt completely in minutes and burn in three to four hours with no messy clean up. Fill your room with fragrance in no time in the reusable candle holder that comes with the starter kit. Starter kit includes reusable candle holder and two candles. 5-candle refill packs sold separately.
Always on the go! Excited to get home. Just looking for a quick way to relax and enjoy the moment. You need Yankee Candle Quick Scent. These quick melting candles provide room-filling fragrance in minutes. Simply place a Quick Scent candle in the top of the reusable decorative holder, light it, and enjoy. The unique design of Quick Scent candles puts more fragrance in the air faster than conventional candles so you can enjoy a room full of your favorite Yankee Candle fragrance in minutes and your Quick Scent candle burns completely in three hours, leaving virtually no wax or messy clean up. Change your fragrance to fit your mood, the season or a special occasion. Quick Scent Candles are an affordable way to make every room unique. They're fast, fragrant and convenient. Yankee Candle Quick Scent provides room-filling fragrance in minutes. Make this your moment with Yankee Candle Quick Scent. |
You might also be interested in:
The availability of an item is based on the quantity in the store at the time you check our site. Our store inventory can quickly change, especially when an item is advertised. In the event the item is not available when you arrive at the store, we will be happy to order and ship it for you. Shipping fees may apply.
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text:
oh but that diorama is based on a price of artwork where is armour is way to dark to be white, probably gold.
Did anyone else notice the Berzerkers in the UK WD looked not only new but each unit had a model in with a double handed chain axe. It could just be one persons conversions or it could be the new miniatures.
They're conversions.
There the GW staff memeber Wade World Eater army that he collected for a good few years now, his World Eater army shown in the White Dwarf a few time, think issuie 352 & a few other of his conversion work has been in the WD now & then since 2005. People can see more of his World Eater force on his own web site
This is where we hold them! This is where we fight! This is where they DIE!!!!!!!!!!
Now doing painting/converting commission for GW models (UK/Europe only right now), PM or e-mail me - New Web site coming soon!GW Che to me
"perhaps the Ruinous Powers favour you....?"
Yup he's my idol. I've been going to his website for years, he's an awesome converter.
I know someone mentioned that a few are carrying double handed chain axes and I noticed some of them are also armed with hand flamers. My guess is those models will be featuring in the upcoming codex, as will more weapon options for Berserkers. About time!
"As I've always said, Wes is wise." - Scryer in the Darkness
"Wes, if you keep this up you'll need to change your name to MajorWiseJanson." - Azzy
"Many boffins died to bring us this information." - Forgeworld Announcement E-mail
"Rest assured, Servitor 13 has your best interests at heart. Now let's fire up the lascannons." - GW changes their web privacy policy.
Thread closed. Please take CSM discussion here.
"The Lost- they return?"
"Aye, my Lord. For good or ill, the were-kin shall once more stalk the domains of Man."
Please read the posting guidelines. Really.
RIP Jon Wilson/Brimstone. 1967-2009
If you can please donate to Jon's Gift of Hope Fund in aid of the British Heart Foundation


text:
Health Matters: Little Boy Walking, Talking After Stem Cell Breakthrough
By: Deedra Wilson
Updated: November 21, 2012
A little boy's family said they had no hope of him walking or talking, after he suffered a stroke during child birth, that caused him to have Cerebal Palsy.
"That was about 12 hours after birth causing a mild Cerebral Palsy to the left side of his brain, said Nicole Haynes."
But things would change for Drake after Nicole learned the cord blood, she had stored could play a remarkable role in changing Drakes life.
"Banking cord blood as a nurse, I knew was important, the stem cells from his cord blood can be frozen to be used later on in life."
Nicole said she never thought she'd have to use it for one of her children.
She is glad she did.
Drake is now taking part in a study at MCG Health in Augusta, Georgia, where his stem cells are being used to treat his Cerebal Palsy.
"By the 4th trip he was running through their building, we were chasing him through the hall, added Nicole."
Drake's mom also credits the program at Access School in Little Rock.
"Before the cord blood he only had a few sounds, while his friends had words. And now he is talking in three word phrases, he can request things that he needs, things that he wants, said Speech Therapist Barrett Feltus."
A remarkable breakthrough in stem cell research, giving Drake and his family hope of a brighter future.
"He's great because of that!"
Drake is the first little boy in Arkansas to be apart of this stem cell study.


text:
Home › Use Your Libraries › Manage Bibliography & Citations › Zotero › Migrating Bibliographic Data from RefWorks to Zotero ›
Migrating Bibliographic Data from RefWorks to Zotero
- Download and install Zotero from www.zotero.org. Zotero lives inside your Mozilla Browser, and you must have the status bar (under VIEW) activated to see its icon in the bottom right-hand corner. Clicking on the icon will open the program.
- In your RefWorks account, go to REFERENCES > EXPORT
- Select 'All references'
- Select BIBTEX format, and click 'EXPORT'. Your references should appear in a new browser window or tab. If not, make sure that popup windows are not blocked.
- Copy and paste the text into a .txt file, and save. Choose UTF-8 as the encoding if you have any non-English references in your list.
- Back in ZOTERO, click on the little gear icon (ACTIONS) at the top > Import
- Select the text file you created earlier; your database will be imported to the default folder in ZOTERO.
... this may sound complicated, but it's quite easy, really. The only tricky thing is the creation of a text file as an intermediary step. All in all, it takes two minutes to export 800+ references from RefWorks account to Zotero — so it's much more efficient than re-tagging everything by hand.