text:
I should have stayed in bed
. . . yesterday. I'd been Street Pastoring Friday night* so getting out of bed Saturday (ahem) morning (ahem) was a somewhat protracted business.** I eventually came downstairs*** and was fallen on by the hellmob† who feel that six hours is plenty of time to be without the fascinating, stimulating and all-providing hellgoddess.††
And before I go on with this story I want to make it very clear that I had had an adequate amount of caffeine . . .
I have three eggs for breakfast every morning.††† I make excellent scrambled eggs‡ and this also means that if I—er—don't get around to eating for the rest of the day I'm still good to go.‡‡ I have NO IDEA how it happened, except that I must have put the pan carelessly down on the edge of the cooker while I reached for the bowl. Possibly to do with sleep deprivation. Even caffeine can only do so much.
AND THE BLOODY PAN LEAPED OFF THE COOKER, DID THREE CARTWHEELS MIDAIR‡‡‡ AND PLUNGED TO THE FLOOR WHERE IT FRELLING BOUNCED. Who knew that a heavy copper pan COULD BOUNCE THAT HIGH?
I had scrambled eggs—scrambled eggs that had just had their butter stirred into them a moment ago—EVERYWHERE. I mean EVERYWHERE. I'm starting to feel hysterical again just remembering. The eggs that landed on the front of the Aga itself were instantly welded into place because the front of the Aga is HOT, you know? The fronts of the white cupboards were suddenly a shiny mottled yellow. I had eggs on my computer, eggs on the piles of books and magazines§ to either side of it, eggs on the glass panes of the cupboards above the counters, eggs on my knitting bag . . . eggs on the FAR SIDE OF THE KITCHEN ISLAND, on the table I can no longer get the leaves up of because there are too many hellcritter crates, and on the glass front of the bookcase that stands next to the table. There are probably eggs in the geraniums on the windowsills too, but it's a bit of a jungle in there and if there are eggs they can just stay there.
Meanwhile, back at ground zero . . . my kitchen was built by a cowboy. I have no idea where my predecessor found him, but I hope she put him back where he can trouble no one any further. Since I have a cowboy mentality when it comes to housework this is mostly not that big a problem. I curse the drawer that doesn't open except when it shoots out and falls to the floor, but mostly I can ignore the fact that it has big gaps at the top and on both sides, and that the handle doesn't fit flush to the front. I can also ignore that the cowboy was either drunk or high when he put in the footings for the Aga§§ UNTIL I'M TRYING TO CLEAN SCRAMBLED EGGS OFF EVERY SURFACE IN THE KITCHEN. A heavy copper pot can cannonball its contents with amazing force. I had greasy scrambled eggs inside that frelling drawer, having slammed through the cracks; I had scrambled eggs jammed under the not-flush handle. I had—and, in fact, still have, since I see no way of getting them out—scrambled eggs puttying up the gaps in the Aga footings . . . I had scrambled eggs inside the oven-shaped space in the Aga that contains the gas feed and the striking mechanism and the spigots because there are vents in the top of the door which the eggs came through. I had eggs sliding down Jesus' tummy on the brand-new icon I have hanging on the front of one of those glass-paned cupboards§§§. I had eggs dripping off the overhead ceiling beam.
I spent two hours cleaning the kitchen.~ And whining. And then I made myself more scrambled eggs and I ate them. ~~
* * *
* And I got STOPPED BY THE FUZZ ON THE WAY HOME. Hee hee hee hee hee. They must have been bored^—or poor Wolfgang has that look of minor criminal delinquency. I saw a car pull in behind me and I couldn't see it was cops but I am happy to say that late at night any car that pulls in behind me is guilty until proven innocent of being cops, and I drive accordingly. At 4 am after being on your feet strolling the city for six hours you might be forgiven for BEING A LITTLE TIRED.^^ I had about decided this car was not cops since it had followed me all the way through town and out the other side and I hadn't had any near encounters with trees or anything. But they still pulled me over, one of them ambled out and asked—politely—if I was lost or if perhaps . . . I had had one or two down t'pub earlier? No, I said cheerfully, I've been Street Pastoring, and I waved the sleeve of my jacket, lying on the seat next to me, at him. Oh, Street Pastors, he said, carry on. I spared him pointing out that he'd just spoken to me not an hour before on a street corner . . . but the anonymous thing about a uniform? The SP logo is like a great big HARMLESS sign and I think cop gaze slides right off us. Not the other way around, you will note. But I'm still getting used to chatting amiably with The Man. Or, occasionally, Woman.
^ I'm happy to say that in this area at 4 am, when the final Chinese/Thai/Indian takeaway/kebab shop/Subway sandwiches has closed after the last club+ has closed, things are pretty quiet. Except for the occasional random old lady serially hurtling a hellmob. The cops've stopped her too, as you may recall.
+ Yes we have those too. No, really. You want vices? We got vices. It's just most of them go to bed pretty early.
^^ I would be useless at shift work—like cops—and with the ME the only reason I can do Street Pastoring at all—or all those late Sam duties—is because I stay up late anyway. Just not quite this late+ and there's less walking involved++, although what walking there is on an ordinary McKinley late night includes liberal use of small plastic bags.
+ Um. Usually
++ Or chatting to people, which is much more tiring.# I like carrying the knapsack, despite the weight of a full frelling thermos, because then I can concentrate on the hot-drinks service and conversation can be honourably limited to 'vegetable, chicken and vegetable or hot chocolate?' Mind you wrestling with thermoses that don't open, plastic bags of paper cups that have no entry point, packets of soup that won't tear and the regular dismaying disappearance of all the spoons, it usually takes an entire team to get a hot drink made anyway. I suspect many of our regular homeless don't want the drink but they enjoy the show.
# Answering the phones at the Sams is different. They rang you. You didn't wander up to them wearing a silly hat.
** I've got the standard post-late-Sam duty system reasonably well banged out but I'm still working on post-SP. I have two major problems about getting to bed before the morning news on Radio 3^: the first is this three dog drill. Pav is totally down on bodily functions. You take her out, she does the necessary and she can't wait to get back indoors again BECAUSE THERE WILL BE FOOOOOOOOOD. Hellhounds . . . Chaos has to crap at least twice^^ every time he sets foot across the threshold and Darkness has to find the PEEEEEEEEEERFECT spot. He can shuttle around a patch five foot square for five minutes . . . and then CHANGE HIS MIND and be obliged to LOOK ELSEWHERE. And the pee-marking . . . they may have to pee several times and from several different directions on a single tree, dustbin, bus stop, wall^^^, pole, etc. Although watching them trying to get it RIGHT with a pole is pretty funny since their aim isn't all that great, and . . .
And the other thing is that I come back from any late duty STARVING. And more so after following flaming hellhounds around on their eliminatory QUEST. And eating is, you know, time consuming, since you're not going to gag down six brownies and an onion^^^^ at the kitchen sink, are you? You're going to want to consider your choices and then sit down and enjoy your selection, and maybe get out a book to read or a little knitting and . . .
^ the sound of which produces an OH FESTERING FESTERING reaction, especially if I've fallen asleep in the bath again
^^ I am not merely paying for the makers of biodegradable plastic crap bags to send their children to college, I am also funding their tropical rainforest holidays in Maine and sun and surf holidays in Tibet+. ARRRRRRGH.
+ Both of these options are EXTRA EXPENSIVE for what you might call the obvious reasons
^^^ Walls come in extents, you realise. A self-contained extent from a peeing-dog perspective is anywhere from three-quarters of an inch to about two foot. Sigh.
^^^^ Well I hope you aren't
*** There may have been moaning
† I am DELIGHTED TO REPORT THAT the hellterror is off heat again YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY. Although the hellhounds are still checking. Hellterror is all, you want my butt? I am delighted you want my butt! Here is my butt! HERE IS MY BUTT! HERE IT IS! HERE! ARE YOU ENJOYING MY BUTT? IT'S A NICE BUTT, ISN'T IT? MAYBE YOU'D LIKE TO TICKLE MY TUMMY TOO? OR I COULD JUST MUG YOU. —Remind me why I have dogs.
†† Getting your dogs on your peculiar schedule is easy. But all those bright little expectant eyes when you crawl through the door at three or four in the morning is perhaps not the perfect solution. When are they going to invent a dog-walking robot?
††† All right so it's not necessarily morning. It's the first meal of the day, okay? Unless you count the nosh at 5 am.
‡ Possibly almost as good as Sunshine's. Almost. After all, she's a professional.
‡‡ There could be some connection here with why I am often starving at three or four in the morning. But post-menopausal metabolism, you know? The frelling eggs are an indulgence. I could maintain weight on a carrot a week, I swear. A small carrot.^
^ I am not thinking about Niall's brownies. I am not thinking about Niall's brownies. NOT. +
+ However I am apparently ringing at Old Eden tomorrow night, where ringing up those bells is like running a flag up a flagpole where the pulleys are all frozen and the flag is the approximate size, weight and momentum resistance of the Albert Memorial. Who needs a gym subscription?
‡‡‡ During which I wrung my hands and did not make a grab for it because it had only JUST come off the hot plate and I employ a heavy copper-clad steel pan because I can use all the upper-body strengthening devices I can get AND it cooks divinely not least for its HEAT RETAINING PROPERTIES.
§ You mean not everybody eats surrounded by books and writing implements of various applications, or keeps current reading material on the kitchen counters?^
^ There would be more on the floor except, you know, hellterror. No she doesn't eat paper but she does carom off it.
§§ It's a reconditioned one so it's possible that whoever did the reconditioning also supplied the footing. This is not an encouraging thought. Fortunately the Aga herself is a star and I wouldn't be without her. Long time readers may recall I've said that all my friends fell down laughing when they found out I'd bought a house with an Aga in it since I had clearly bought it for the Aga. Ahem. I deny this charge. Although I admit the presence of an Aga may have been a tipping point.
§§§ A few weeks ago, when the real world was beating me up unusually hard, I met my monk on my way into the chapel on Saturday night and he asked me how I was. I burst into tears. The end of that conversation included Alfrick suggesting I buy myself a suitable icon and start poking my problems into the little cave with the skull in it at the foot of the cross.^
^ First you have to find a reproduction that doesn't chop the cave off because it's all for tourists anyway and they won't care. Good grief. Or I should probably say God bless. I finally found a nice shiny working Catholic repro of an icon. I don't recall however that you're supposed to baptise your new icon in scrambled eggs and I was a little worried that the cheap varnish was going to peel off, but it seems to have taken no harm.+
+ This is a monologue for another night, but having been raised, supposedly, to be a generic Protestant . . . generic Protestants so miss out on the evil-papist [sic] ritual objects like icons and rosaries. Maybe I'm just unusually mired in earthly matters# and/or old to be this young, but I find the props tremendously helpful and supportive. We are living in this world with bodies in three mortal dimensions##. I belong to the school of thought that it's not all about transcendence.
# two hellhounds with chronic diarrhoea and a hellterror with a fabulous butt can do this to you
## and hellcritters. I think hellcritter bodies exude an extra dimension or two. Possibly hellterrors have a special Butt Dimension which could explain a lot.
# Small mercies: the hellterror had been recrated^ before the excitement. She did, however, have lovely buttery scrambled eggs for breakfast. She did not care that they'd spent a few minutes on the floor or were seasoned with tears of rage and despair.
^ For an excess of butt-related activities
~ It's still speckled yellow. But it's less speckled. .
~~ Today, however, has been better. We went to a ROSE GARDEN.
It's Friday, it must be handbells
Have I told you I've gone back into therapy because I Am Not Coping with Reality Very Well Right Now?* I went in for an assessment a while ago but it took them some time to find a slot for me.** I've seen Metis a few times now and like her—if 'like' is quite the word you want to apply to your shrink—and have some hope that she'll crack me open like whacking off the top of your soft-boiled egg with an egg-spoon.*** But it's still early days. Yesterday she taught me a relaxation technique. Chiefly it served to demonstrate that I do not relax. Nadia could have told her this. Sigh.†
But weekly therapy meetings are one more thing on the schedule. And in the last fortnight I seem also to have been to three concerts†† and not merely done my standard weekly Sam duty but the frelling occasional-required long overnight duty which reduces you to a little pile of sticky ashes even if you're healthy††† plus picking up an extra (late, not everyone's favourite time of day for some reason) duty when someone went down sick at the last minute.‡
And of course there's still monks. And singing.‡‡ And the hellmob. And the garden, which is booming into early summer. And bell ringing, although tower ringing has taken a hit the last fortnight due to all the other excitements. But handbells . . . it's Friday. There were handbells.‡‡‡
* * *
* I'm an American, we believe in therapy. And my best friend is a New Yorker and everyone in Manhattan is in therapy, it's a civic ordinance. You want to live there, you need to sign up with a therapist before you try to find a place to live. Your rental agreement or your mortgage application will have a query on it something like 'Are you currently actively engaged in seeking self-development by way of a professional relationship with a psychotherapist whose name appears on this year's list of Persons Licensed to Charge More Than $1000 an Hour which you gladly disburse for the Privilege of Discovering What a Hopeless Dolt You Are?' You need to be able to fill in the 'yes' box. Residents of the Tri-State Area are given a tax rebate for being in therapy, although it doesn't run to $4000 a month. Hey, what do you want, healthy, well nourished children and a car that runs^ or greater self awareness?^^
^ All the festering DRIVING involved in my proliferating life-enrichment programmes is a pain. It's worth it but IT IS A PAIN. And while I'm both a careful and a law-abiding driver I do kind of yell a lot. I had a Classic Robin Moment on my way to my last voice lesson. I was late, of course, because I'm always late, and I got stuck behind this moron going thirty-five miles an hour in a SIXTY MILE AN HOUR ZONE. I was not doing my singing voice any good in my description of his heritage and his likely future. Then we hit town—I've tried going the back way and all that happens is that I get stuck behind tractors, and that doesn't do my singing voice or my blood pressure any favours either—and the slow wiggly main road was made even slower and wigglier by the plethora of frelling LORRIES parked on it while they unloaded shoes and sausages and hammers and mattresses into all the frelling shops. So you and your soon to be overheating car are ducking back and forth from one single lane to the other, depending on where the latest lorry is parked and you are getting later and later for your voice lesson and CRANKIER AND CRANKIER. Now, despite my malevolent views of other drivers, I'm quite the—ahem!—Samaritan about letting other drivers in, especially in a situation like this one where we're all suffering. Well I'd got stuck behind the final lorry and no one was letting me into the other lane. Guess who finally did. Yep. Thirty Five Miles an Hour in a Sixty Mile an Hour Zone Man. I waved gratefully but I hope he doesn't lip-read.
^^ Note that Metis' practise does not charge £646 an hour. Trust me, I would not be there.
** It's a group practise. I imagine them sitting around at their admin meeting and saying, okay, we have an axe murderer, a pathological collector of HP Lovecraft t shirts^, someone who thinks they're Napoleon/Marie Stopes/Edward Cullen and a writer with writer's block . . . and a chorus of voices reply eagerly, I'll take the axe murderer! I'll take Lovecraft, AT THE MOUNTAINS OF MADNESS is the best novel of the 20th century! I'll take Marie Stopes! . . . Silence. I am fully booked, says the person remaining. I totally must shampoo the cat, and then sort the contents of the kibble bin by size. Fluffy is so particular. I can't consider taking on a new client till someone else has been desperate enough to take the wri—I mean, probably not till next year.
^ ::whistles::
*** Personally I scramble my eggs. But Peter does the egg-spoon trick.
† Note to self: Metis and Nadia must never meet.
†† If Jackie Oates http://www.jackieoates.co.uk/live-dates/ comes anywhere near you and/or you have a friend who is willing to do the driving, speaking of driving,^ and unless you are one of these poor sad creatures who doesn't get good folk music, go. And listen especially closely to the newly arranged and adapted 21st-century lyrics to A Cornish Young Man, which are delicious.
^ Fiona and I found a new yarn shop. I was doing pretty well+ till I made the mistake of checking out the sale bin again. I had thought on the way in that the Yarn Pet percentage might be a little perilous but at that point I had a whole shop to be endangered by and adrenaline was running high. And I then managed (mostly) to resist the breathtakingly gorgeous single-skein small-local-indie-dyers gauntlet, chiefly because I have some self-protective resistance to spending more than a New York City shrink's hourly rate on a one-off that there isn't even enough of to make a scarf. A fichu maybe.++
AND THEN I WENT BACK TO THE FRELLING SALE BIN. Alpaca is evil. Especially when it is mixed in big fat fluffy skeins with merino. You can frelling hear it purring when you cradle it in your arms.+++
+ I say nothing about how Fiona was doing
++ If you're small and flat-chested.
+++ Dogs purr too, you know. At least every dog I've ever had purrs when it settles in your lap. Whether it fits in your lap or not.
††† And/or stay up late and don't do mornings anyway. Although some annoying person^ has pointed out that I do do mornings, I do a lot of mornings, I just do the, you know, little end.
^ I never name names on this blog but this particular person is very annoying about handbells.+
+ What do you mean you can't ring handbells tomorrow, the next day, the day after that and three times on Madnessday? —GO AWAY. YOU'RE RETIRED. SOME OF US ARE STILL WORKING FOR A LIVING# AND FURTHERMORE MAY POSSIBLY DO OTHER THINGS IN THEIR SPARE [SIC] TIME THAT AREN'T HANDBELLS. ##
# Or at least staring despairingly at an empty computer screen regularly.
## Aren't . . . handbells? this person murmurs brokenly.
‡ And this potent sacrifice was absolutely worth it for the barrage of brownie points thus accrued. I can probably spill scalding coffee on the director/the fancy new computer/the delicately poised for heightened reactivity electronic fire alarm and no one will say anything.
‡‡ Your Body Is Your Instrument I Wish I Had Taken up the Guitar When I Was a Teenager Like Everyone Else Did. Nadia told me the last time I was beating up Batti Batti O Bel Masetto to skip the allegro, which has all those frelling runs in it AND goes up to a high B. Last time, as I recall, I did leave it alone. This time I was idly leafing through it again when a little light went on and I said, Hey! It's a B flat! I can (usually) get to B flat! —So, occasionally, late at night^, when my voice is feeling all relaxed^^ and warm and willing I sing the allegro. I can't frelling sing and play the piano at the same time, but I do have a finger poised to hit that B flat to make sure I'm hitting it, if you follow me. I usually am, in my squeaky un-self-confident and death-defying-not-in-a-good-way way^^^.
And next time through I can't hit G. I can always hit a friggleblasting doodahing G, give me a flapdoodling BREAK. Yes, I can always hit a G, except right after I've hit an A sharp/B flat and my voice says NO WE DON'T DO THAT and shuts down. That's SHUTS. DOWN. Arrrrrrgh. And then it's back to Edwardian parlour ballads till it forgives me. ARRRRRRGH.
^ Or in a little morning hour
^^ Sic
^^^ Yes I can hear the unglefrakking difference when Nadia manages to persuade me to float down from above a note rather than ramping up at it from underneath like a guerrilla attack on a dangerous enemy. Sigh. Sometimes I'm very flat indeed. Sometimes I just . . . sound like I'm attacking an enemy I'm terrified of.+ SIGH.
+ I also indulge in a concomitant worry that St Margaret's will decide they're not that desperate for singers at the evening service.
‡‡‡ And brownies. I had told Niall firmly that if there were no brownies I would remember a prior engagement. What prior engagement? said Niall suspiciously. Well, I forget, I said, there are brownies, right?
26 January 2015
Today was Alcestis' 58th birthday.
Would have been. She died a little over a week ago.
Peter and I often go out to dinner either the 3rd or the 26th of whatever month it is*; occasionally both, like this month. January is frequently a sod; serious deluges of champagne are often required in January. Last year, after Peter's stroke in December, pretty much bathtubs full of the stuff were prescribed and dutifully consumed. And this year. . . . I'd remembered that Alcestis' birthday was the end of January somewhere; I'd forgotten it was today till Admetus reminded me. Peter and I clinked our glasses tonight and drank to Alcestis. Who is dancing joyfully in the sunlit fields of the Lord . . . which means fuck-all to me right now.
The funeral is on Friday.
That's the worst, of course. I miss her. Remember I said in the Not a happy new year post to make time for your friends, life is shorter than you think? It's not like I didn't know Alcestis' time and life were running out all last year, but the habit of 'oh next week is soon enough' is hard to sodding break. I am so glad now for all of those evenings I spent knitting and chatting with her the last few months; I wouldn't have not done it for anything, now that it's all over—now that she's gone. But it also makes me miss her worse. Because I'd FINALLY got in the habit of going round to see her regularly. And enjoying her company. And remembering why I liked her so much: for her dry humour, her empathy, her astonishing breadth of practical knowledge about the world; if you wanted to know something about pretty much anything, chances were that Alcestis could tell you something you could use and suggest where you might look for more. She'd been a scientist and a science teacher, and teaching came naturally to her, whether it was basic physics or how to pluck a chicken.** And yet months would go by, before she fell ill, when we'd run into each other in town and say 'oh yes we must get together' and then go our separate ways for more months. Why are humans so STUPID? Because I'm far from the only person who treats their friends like this. There's always going to be time. But there isn't.
So. Sorry for the long blog silence. There's still a lot of staring blankly into space—and several other WHAAAAAAT? unexpected crises, mostly unsuitable for a family-friendly public blog, but I will mention the evening this past week, having just been knocked sideways by one of said crises, I managed to leave my diary in Mauncester I CANNOT LIIIIIIIVE WITHOUT MY DIARY I can barely remember to breathe without checking in my diary first*** and having phoned to be sure that I had left it where I thought I had, and they said they'd keep it safe for me, I leaped into Wolfgang to drive back to fetch it . . .
. . . and Wolfgang wouldn't start. AAAAAAAAAAAUGH. I spent most of the next DAY schlepping in to Mauncester on the frelling BUS and hiking to the far end of town TO PICK UP MY DIARY. While Wolfgang was towed off to the garage. I got him back today: hellhounds and I had a very nice walk over hill and under milkwood to Warm Upford to pick him up, with a shiny new starter motor under his bonnet.† And all that stumbling over tussocks gave me an appetite for champagne, duck confit and a big fat chocolate brownie with chocolate sauce tonight at the pub. It was a very good confit, and an excellent brownie. But the brownie wasn't as good as Alcestis'.
* * *
The news isn't all bad, if you will permit me to range now into the frivolous. Niall, who can smell weakness, and has his own unique ideas about cheering people up, seems to have inveigled me into RINGING FRELLING HANDBELLS AGAIN. HOW DO I GET INTO THESE THINGS.†† Furthermore I seem to have become a semi-regular fourth with a particular group, Niall, Jillian, who was starting to learn handbells shortly before I more or less stopped, and a gentleman who has not appeared on these virtual pages before, whom we will call Spenser. I've rung tower bells with Jillian many times—although she's a good ringer and I'm not—I only know Spenser by reputation. The fact that he's not only a good tower bell ringer but also an organist and therefore has developed the Extra Brain Lobes for keeping track of several manuals AND a pedal keyboard or whatever you call them means he is beautifully pre-programmed to learn frelling handbells swiftly and accurately and I will HATE HIM SOON. But right at the moment he and I are about level in the Struggle to Master Bob Major.
I've spent most of my handbell career thus far on six bells, mostly ringing bob minor. 'Plain bob' is where everyone starts. If you've only got three handbell ringers there are a lot of other more complex six-bell methods, but when you first make the step up to major—eight bells, four ringers—you'll go back to plain bob. This time plain bob major. Counting to eight is hard—which you have to do, every dorgleflamming row, to keep yourself in your place in the pattern. And 'seven' has too many syllables in it. OnetwothreefourfivesixSEVENeight. Ruins your rhythm.†††
Jillian at the moment is our weak link. Not her fault, she's been ringing less time than I have, Spenser is just talented, drat him, and Niall is, well, Niall. Niall conceived of the daring plan to swap Jillian out some day that isn't our regular meeting so that Spenser and I can have the thrill [sic] of ringing with two good steady ringers and see how far we get. I could see the quarter-peal light going off in Niall's evil little eyes‡. We were fixed for this past Wednesday, with Melinda as our fourth. Melinda would be one of my favourite ringers—despite her reprehensible excellence on handbells—if I saw more of her; she's the one got me going to the extra tower practise at Fustian, which stopped happening some time this last year when I haven't been ringing anyway. After Alcestis died I told Niall I am NOT trying for a quarter peal on Wednesday. Both my stamina and my focus are zero for the present and the immediate future. That's okay, said Niall in his blandest possible manner.
I should frelling know better by now.
You can see where this is going. We rang a couple of touches and first I and then Spenser—and bless him for not being perfect—crashed and burned. So we started over. No big; we were getting good practise with Melinda there. But then we started to steady down—Melinda is a lovely, equable, consistent, low-tension-transfer ringer.‡‡ Aaaaaaand we didn't crash and burn. For a few minutes. For a few more minutes. For . . . that ratbag Niall is going for a quarter.
We rang a quarter. Spenser's and my first quarter of bob major.
And that's for Alcestis too. Makes a change from glasses of champagne. ‡‡‡
* * *
* Our wedding anniversary is 3 January; our lightning-strike meeting anniversary is 26 July.
** She was also an excellent—and self taught—knitter. She half-blinded herself knitting the Plain Dark Pullovers that are all the Standard British Male will wear, for Admetus. And the sweater I knitted^ about three-quarters of, those last evenings of knit and chat, is hanging on the back of a chair at Third House and every time I see it I catch my breath. I should finish it. I know. At some deep superstitious level I think I'm still hoping if I don't finish it I'll get a few more evenings with Alcestis. Sigh.
^ which is for me and is about as far from plain and dark as it is possible to get.
*** Drink champagne, yes. Eat chocolate, yes. Breathing, I may need reminding.
† He now leaps six feet off the ground when you turn the key in the little hole. BRAAAAAAANG. NEXT STOP MARS.
†† A pathetic insufficiency of counter-obstinacy. There is NOTHING ON THE PLANET as persistent as Niall in pursuit of handbell ringers. And he's such a polite, quiet, gentle person . . . most of the time. Not about handbells. Be glad you don't live in New Arcadia. He'd get you too.
††† One of the additional reasons I will never graduate to twelve on handbells, aside from the spectacular absence of necessary brain support, is because of having to count a row that has a three-syllable number in it. Seven is bad enough. ELEVEN? Are you frelling JOKING? I can just about manage plain hunt in the tower on twelve, because tower bells go so much slower you have half a chance to squeeze those extra syllables out. Frelling handbells go a frelling lick. Well-rung handbells sound like the louder, more musical version of someone running their thumb over the edges of a pack of cards. That's how fast it goes.^
^ Not with me however. Handbells rung with me in the group are . . . stately. There are people who won't ring with me because I'm too slow. Trust me, I don't want to ring with these people anyway.
‡ If he's part bull terrier that would explain a lot.
‡‡ There are other handbell ringers I won't ring with because just being in the same room with them winds me up. But I suspect they feel the same about me.
‡‡‡ Okay, I should finish that sweater.
Not a happy new year
The friend I've been visiting in hospital?
She's dying.
It won't be long now.
I hate this. This is a stupid system, this life thing. She's younger than I am, by the way. And another friend—another good friend—who is also younger than I am—has just been diagnosed with . . . well. Not with blue skies and happy fluffy bunnies.
Life sucks. And then, as we know, you die.
So, that's been my holidays.* Let's call her Alcestis—the friend who's dying—although in the damned myth some god or godling usually comes along at the last minute and saves her, and so far as I know my friend's Admetus wasn't in any danger. She's been ill for a while, and in and out of hospital, but they've known for a while they aren't going to turn this one around, it's going to get her, and sooner rather than later. And she's been slipping—also for a while—but the last three weeks or so the slope has suddenly got steeper. Although we knew this was going to happen too.
I've been through this before, of course, but it doesn't get easier, losing people—watching them slide away from you, and you can't do a bloody thing except sit by their bedside and breathe. Be there, stunned and clueless and disbelieving. Everyone who is trying to comfort you says, oh, being there counts! That is what you can do! I guess. But it's throwing rose petals in the abyss. Except it's not even rose petals. It's dead toads or dandruff or anthrax or something.
Alcestis is in a specialist unit and it's too far for me to drive, and I'm dependent on Admetus to give me a lift—but he's a friend too, and they're neighbours. I blast over there five or ten (or fifteen) minutes later than I said I'd get there, and he does the driving. I like to imagine that having someone in the car with him sometimes—he's quite the taxi service, is our Admetus, bless him—is maybe a bit comforting, or grounding, or something. I have really NO IDEA how he's doing. He's a BRITISH MALE. I assume he's still eating, although he's got awfully thin and he wasn't exactly portly to begin with. The unit Alcestis is in will feed a spouse or one other designated person for the big holidays, and they came round with the New Year's Day dinner menus today while I was there doing my sitting and breathing thing—and in my case knitting: my knitting is not improving with practise—and I was looking at Admetus looking at the menu and wanted to say to the nurses 'make sure he eats too, okay?'
It's a nice place, as far as places where people go to die are ever nice. The nurses are kind and thoughtful and engaged: they're all over Admetus as he comes in, and a couple of them even recognise me. There's free tea and coffee (okay, and a donation box), and a big lounge-sitting-room-waiting-room space with comfy chairs and tables and books, and a computer with a selection of all-ages games. They keep Alcestis clean and comfortable. She's just barely there any more and . . . drifting . . . farther . . . away.
Today the doctor took Admetus aside and said that hopes/plans to be able to send Alcestis home after the holidays, when they'd be up to full staff strength again for the amount of home care she'd need, were, barring miracles, permanently shelved and that . . . the unit is set up for a spouse or partner to spend the night there: he might want to know that. He might want to consider. . . . When we got back to New Arcadia tonight he gave me the domestic fauna care drill and he'll text me if I need to step in. There was a little austere hilarity at the outrage the capybaras, sugar gliders and wallabies are going to feel at being put abruptly on my schedule rather than Admetus'. He gets up at about 6 a.m. most mornings. I suppose I could go round and feed and do a quick sweep last thing before I go to bed. . . .
They're rerunning the last night of the Proms on Radio 3 tonight. Last night of the Proms live was mid September, and Alcestis was still alert and walking (slowly) and interested in the world and having opinions about the books she read.
And to everyone who is reading this: make time to get together with your friends, and do stuff, or just hang out, drink tea, loan each other books. Or if geography is against you—and I know a lot about that—talk on the phone, email, text, Skype. Stay in touch.** Time is a whole lot shorter than you think.
Tonight's glass of champagne is to you, honey, Alcestis, my old friend.
* * *
* Another thing about holidays is the way people go on them leaving their social-welfare charities short-handed. And falling prey to the common philosophy of wretchedness that if you can't do anything for you and yours maybe you can do some damn thing for a stranger, I've picked up a few extra shifts here and there to the extent that I've had one or two lectures from older hands about taking care of myself. OH SHUT UP. Okay, yes, I know, and I appreciate the concern and understand why they're having a word, but I'm at least conscious of what I'm doing and as soon as the holidays are over with I'll revert to being the volunteer-organisation version of assistant bottle-washer. But whatever your flavour of belief^ or disbelief, the end of year holiday season and all the jolly consumerism, I mean family and friendship and togetherness, tend to magnify anything that's less than fabulous in your individual life, so social services get a bit strained. The less than fabulous would include me and mine of course. But being a do gooder at least means you have somewhere to put some of the sorrow and frustration.
^ Although just by the way the tendency for Christmas to be presented in Christian churches in all its blue-skies-and-fluffy-bunnies splendour MAKES ME CRAZY. YO. THAT KID YOU'RE WORSHIPPING IS GOING TO DIE HORRIBLY IN THIRTY-THREE YEARS+ AND THERE'S A CRUCIFIX HANGING OVER THE ALTAR, YES, EVEN AT CHRISTMAS, POSSIBLY TO REMIND YOU OF THIS TINY FACTOID?? As one might say, Jesus. There's a dark despairing edge even at Christmas, a shadow behind the joy. Welcoming this baby should break your heart, and if it doesn't you're not paying attention.++
+ Or about four months, depending on how you're counting. This is only my third Easter coming up and I already want a year off.#
# I think I said that last year. Easter is hard.~
~ And it has nothing to do with fluffy bunnies, chocolate or otherwise.
++ Some of the carols get this right. When I'm experiencing a worse than usual brain failure day, the verse I can never forget is from We Three Kings: Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume/ breathes a life of gathering gloom/ Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying/ Sealed in a stone-cold tomb. Elsewhere it refers to King and God and sacrifice. Um, yeah. Stay with it. And Christmases like this one for me, it's exactly like my monk said: he died also so none of us ever has to suffer alone.
I still think it's a total fucker of a system. When I get to heaven# I'm going to start a petition.
# And remember we all do, eventually, whatever 'heaven' turns out to be and whatever petitioning options there are.
** Which I'm doing a lousy job of with everyone else in my life. Because I'm too sunk in being bad company. Sigh. Do as I say, not as I do, okay?
Crazy Singing Lady
. . . NO NO NO NO I CAN'T POSSIBLY START WITH THAT FIRST LINE, SOMETHING MIGHT BE LISTENING. . . . ::DANCES THE FANDANGO IN A DISTRACTING MANNER::* . . . It's been a pretty crappy almost everything lately, you can hardly blame me for being paranoid. So, what I was risking saying was, I've had two surprisingly okay, engaged, useful, whatever, voice lessons in a row . . . just in time however for a three-week holiday break during which I will doubtless go to flat, unrhythmic little splinters again. So the powers of entropy don't have to be paying attention. The gremlins can just lie back and giggle. Throw the occasional brickbat if they feel inspired. Although I may dare to hope for metaphorical brickbats.**
My attitude = not great.
I managed to whomp the whatsit out of myself with a not-very-metaphorical brickbat just before last week's voice lesson and I mean whomp. The gremlins would have been proud of me. You may recall that this is A New Computer.*** I was rummaging a fortnight ago, in the scary dark interstices of the EVERYTHING folder, where files you haven't seen since before you had a computer may lurk undetected for centuries, or at least till they make the next gazillion storage media redundant.† And, lo and behold, I unearthed a couple of the recordings I'd made of voice lessons YEARS ago, or at least I hope it was years. And I made the very nearly fatal mistake of listening to one of them.††
DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN I KNEW I WAS BAD BUT I HAD NO IDEA I WAS THAT BAD.††† I also remember that when I played them back at the time I was a little discouraged‡—also I had some other great emotional drama playing out in my life at the time and I'm learning that this always has a Florence-Foster-Jenkins-izing‡‡ effect on my singing—but I don't think I wanted to find a bridge to jump off of. I should have wanted to find a bridge to jump off of, or at least to stop singing forever and let Nadia fill my slot with someone she can teach to SING. AAAAAAAAAAAAUGH.
About the only thing to say for this utterly demoralising experience is that I didn't consider giving up singing forever. It's too late. I sing for sanity.‡‡‡ But I pretty much went in for my lesson on my hands and knees last week and Nadia, bless her, said I FORBID YOU TO LISTEN TO THAT RECORDING. EITHER BURY IT IN THE BACK GARDEN OR—RECOMMENDED—DELETE IT. YOU'RE JUST HURTING YOURSELF LISTENING TO IT NOW. . . . The real point being she did NOT say, actually, I've been meaning to discuss giving your slot to someone I can teach to sing. . . . She did say that I've improved. WELL I COULD HARDLY HAVE GOT WORSE.
I came out of this at last week's lesson like a bull terrier going for her supper Kong and SANG.§ It may not have been pretty but it was energetic. And this is the time of year when you can probably even sing (audibly) on the street without people thinking you're the Crazy Singing Lady§§ and I'm having my annual frenzy of learning all the rest of the verses to my top favourite 1,000,000 Christmas carols§§§—which I admit is cutting into proper practise time but it does mean I'm singing.#
And . . . (re)learning Christmas carols## this year, I came to In the Bleak Midwinter and . . . hmmm. It hadn't really registered with me till I moved over here, but it's (perhaps) Peter's favourite and has become one of mine. But this year, singing it, I thought, this isn't a carol, this is a song that happens to be about Christmas. So I'm going to learn it properly—I took it in to Nadia today—and sing it all year. And become the Crazy Singing Lady who sings carols in midsummer. If I'm going to become the Florence Foster Jenkins of the 21st century I might as well do it with some flourish and swagger.
* * *
* And me dancing the fandango would be very distracting.^ Not in a good way.
^ Eh. You need a partner for the fandango. ::Eyes the hellmob+:: Hellhounds get that 'oh help and glory she's not going to shove FOOD at us again is she??? But we just ate last week' look on their faces, delicately rearrange themselves to face the wall and appear to be deeply preoccupied with going to sleep. Hellterror throws herself up on her hind legs and starts demonstrating her idea of a fandango, shouting, ME, COACH! PUT ME IN! I CAN FANDANGO! ALL I NEED IS A CARMEN MIRANDA HAT!
+ Or hellhorde, as some enterprising forum poster suggested.
** You probably think gremlins are metaphorical. NOT IN MY LIFE.
*** The old one is still in a box under Raphael's desk because he's going to find time to resuscitate it any minute.^ You know, like maybe March. 2016. Not that I feel that I'm not getting my contract support hours out of him however: it's a good day when I have texted/emailed/screamed-so-they-could-hear-me-in-Dorset him about the ultrabook's^^ latest little ways fewer than 4,612 times.
^ Yes, since you ask. There's still stuff on it that I'm missing.+ And you're totally up to date with your back ups, your files are flawlessly labelled and you're all ready for Christmas, right? GO. AWAY.
+ Besides the remnants of my sanity. Sanity, computers and I are really not an integrated whole. We're kind of this universe, the anti-universe, and a third thing nobody's discovered yet but it makes an even bigger bang.
^^ I've already complained to you about how you can't say LAPTOP any more? That's just so turn of the century. No, it's ULTRABOOKS now. Ewww. I thought 'laptops' was naff, but ultrabooks has that Marketing Genius pong about it. Go away.+ Go shed your fuzzy, asthma-inducing fashionability on someone else's carpets. I just want a computer that will fit in my knapsack.
+ I probably shouldn't be repeating 'Go away' so often three days before Christmas, right? . . . GO AWAY.~
~ I know. You saw that coming. Sorry. It's been a hard year.
† So, how about all those cassette tapes and floppy discs?
†† Well, I had a row of knitting to finish. And then about a skein and a half of rows after that.
††† May I grovel in apology here to the two or three people I've taken along to my voice lessons. In my pathetic defense I took them because I wanted them to meet Nadia and see/hear how totally cool and interesting and exact and responsive she is, and the way she can adjust what she says to what the student can take on.^ It's true that part of the experience is that they have to hear me sing, but . . . well, I knew I wasn't good, but . . . GROVELS EXTENSIVELY. I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN. NEVER EVER. I PROMISE.
^ I get a lot of horse riding metaphors.
‡ I also remember I blogged about it, but I don't want to go back and read what I said.
‡‡ One of the things I might have found interesting if I hadn't been having a nervous breakdown is what Nadia has been telling me for years about what she tactfully calls my 'tuning' issues which is to say that I spend most of my time going flat, not because I have no ear^ but from nerves. No no I can't possibly do that whatever it is! FLAT!!!! And she's right. It's the exposed notes that go flat; it's got pretty much nothing to do with pitch. I'll go flat on a frelling C if it's the top note of the bar; in the next bar I'll sing an F on pitch if there's a G above it I can go flat on instead. Why don't I stick to knitting?^^
^ I haven't got much ear but I generally recognise flat when I hear it. Except when I'm deaf from the throbbing in both ears.
^^ Because I'm also a lousy knitter? Sigh. Although until my life placids out a little I'm not even interested in doing anything more exciting than stocking or garter stitch with maybe the odd bit of ribbing for variety. I knit for tranquillity+. But then I sing for sanity.++
++ Um. Yes. And I'd be even less tranquil without my error-liable knitting. SIGH.
‡‡‡ Yes. As previous footnote. Also, for some inexplicable reason, my church likes my singing. They are even more desperate and/or tone deaf than I realised.
§ Any of you know Brother James' Air? It is so pretty.
§§ Which they think the rest of the year. Crazy Singing Lady with a Variety of Dogs.
§§§ Every year they come back a little quicker. How long have I been taking voice lessons, and singing increasingly shamelessly on the street?^ By the time I die of extreme old age I'll probably be quavering my way through all sixteen verses of everything at Christmas.
^ It's done me serious good the last few months, I think, despite what the neighbours think, because of the adjusting-to-new-sitting-room-with-new-acoustics thing which was a much bigger issue than I'd expected. Silly me. Of course it was going to be an issue. In a little tiny sitting room I can—and do—make the blasted lamps rattle, because I have so little frelling control. I'm either loud or shut down to a faint creak. Sigh.
# Singing for sanity. As I keep saying. Thank God for singing (if badly) and knitting (if badly).
## There's also the ever-interesting topic of the way the British keep jerking the tunes around. An exploration for some other evening.


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2005 Profile in Courage Award Recipient Shirley Franklin became Mayor of Atlanta in 2001, having never before run for public office. She inherited an $82 million budget deficit – about a fifth of the city's total budget – and a crisis of confidence in the public management of the city. Atlanta's sewer system needed immediate and massive repairs, an...
On September 11, 1994, the fifth Profile in Courage Award was presented to U.S. Congressman Henry B. Gonzalez of Texas, Chairman of the House Banking Committee, who launched a series of dramatic hearings on the savings and loan crisis, which resulted in far-reaching legislation to clean up the mess and reform the industry. Charles Keating was convi...
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Cops Give Gifts Instead Of Tickets
OMG! This is so cool. Police in Lowell, Michigan recently pulled drivers over to not give them tickets but to give them something else.
OMG! This is so cool. Police in Lowell, Michigan recently pulled drivers over to not give them tickets but to give them something else.
This video of these two hikers has gone viral. They are walking across a frozen lake but the water is so crystal clear it appears they are walking on water.
Megan Trainor's All About That Bass is going down as one of the biggest hits in 2014. It's extremely catchy and easy to sing to. So easy in fact that many people have come up with spoofs on her song.
Official Mix 106 movie critic has 2 new movies and one re-released movie to review for you this week.
I secretly hope that everyone would take care of a child like this. Not just because it's the holidays, but because this could be my child.
A few weeks ago we were digging out of 9 inches of snow, while Buffalo N.Y. had a little more (6 Feet).
Black Friday can be scary for some people, maybe even horrifying.
Supposedly, turkeys aren't as dumb as most people think they are, but I'm not buying it.
It's a big weekend for movies, and you shouldn't make a choice till you hear from Mix 106 movie critic Willie Waffle.
It's been going on for hundreds of years, companies using Santa to advertise their products, but this is ridiculous.


text: Mario Puccio Mario Puccio Argentina • Mario is a Musician Composer, Producer & Dj who was born in Argentina. • Mario began studying music at an early age. When he was a child, he spent his time listening to musicians like Beethoven, Bach, Piazzolla, Pink Floyd, The Doors and others. When he was seven years old he had his first presentation giving a piano concerto. Studying music was what occupied his time. His studies were: Harmony, Ear Training, Piano, Upright Piano, Organ, Music for Films, Music Therapy, Percussion, Bass and Guitar. • In the late nineties he started producing electronic music and mixing through different styles, up to now. His tracks were heard at events like Moonpark (Buenos Aires), Exchange (Los Angeles), Ministry of Sound (London), Brown Alley (Australia), Love Theatre (Greece), Warung (Brazil), Delta Radio all these by the support from Hernan Cattaneo. His tracks were also heard in places like Jakarta (Indonesia), Armin Van Buuren "Warm Up" set and different radios with support from Nick Warren and others. • He shared concerts with DJs like Nick Warren, Henry Saiz, Marc Marzenit, Andrea Cassino, Martín García, Fernando Ferreyra, among others. • He produced three albums: Genco, Mystic flights, Disco Blue Zone. • He is currently working in his studio with personal projects and also for several national and international labels, as well as for DJs and producers. Mario Puccio's tracks Mario Puccio - Warm Up To Henry Saiz & Marc Marzenit @ Club Imperia by Mario Puccio published on 2015/09/14 16:28:39 +0000 Mario Puccio - Joy (Original Mix) by Mario Puccio published on 2015/07/30 13:56:06 +0000 Mario Puccio - Holograms Life (Original Mix)[Sound Avenue] by Mario Puccio published on 2015/05/14 19:56:08 +0000 Mario Puccio - Good Changes (Original Mix) by Mario Puccio published on 2014/12/01 19:00:14 +0000 Mario Puccio @ Proton Radio by Mario Puccio published on 2014/09/24 19:13:52 +0000 Guy Mantzur & Sahar Z - Remove Tag (Mario Puccio Edit) by Mario Puccio published on 2014/06/09 17:38:06 +0000 Todd Terje - Ragysh (Mario Puccio Edit) by Mario Puccio published on 2013/10/28 23:21:45 +0000 Henry Saiz - Madre Noche (Mario Puccio Unofficial Remix)@ Nick Warren - Kiss Presents by Mario Puccio published on 2013/01/13 22:06:35 +0000 Kimouts - Down to Earth (Mario Puccio Edit)@ Hernan Cattaneo - Moonpark [08/12/12] by Mario Puccio published on 2012/10/31 16:01:54 +0000 Pupkulies & Rebecca - Could not be better (Mario Puccio Remix)@ Hernan Cattaneo - Resident 121 by Mario Puccio published on 2012/10/02 21:55:55 +0000


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Deviant Art
I JUST REALIZED THIS ABOUT ANDYWe all know how Andy Biersack made up the alcohol cow fuckery right?
I was about to fall asleep when I suddenly realized this...
Biersack when translated from German is beer bag (bier = beer sack = bag)
Cow's utters could be called a sack, as it's supposed to hold milk for the calf.
Alcohol cows have beer in their utter according to Andy.
Andy Biersack is an Alcohol cow.
Story.Ashley and Andy were walking along the street, holding hands, kissing eachother every few minuets and giggling like schoolgirls. The street was empty and the day was dark, a shadow hung over the world like a large rubber doll would cover an ant as it was dropped from the hand of a small child on it's way to school. Along the path sat a small black cat that hissed when you spoke satanic rituals to it, for the words angered the cat. The cat ran from you as a robber slowly made his way up behind you to cut your throat. As the blood leaves your body all you see is a pink dove making its way to it's home on the sun. It is a sun dove, the sun dove looks at you as you dance the macarena in the last moments of your life. Across the street a small child drops its ice cream and it splatters onto the sidewalk. A tear falls down its face like the cascades of ice falling off a glacier in the north pole, startling a young seal from it's nap. It cries to it's mother who squirms to comfort it while a
Unfair OneUnfair one, you took my hand.
Unfair one, you tread the sand.
Unfair one, you hugged me so.
Unfair one, you let me go.
Unfair one, you you reminded me.
Unfair one, you took the key.
Unfair one, you told me lies.
Unfair one...you watched me die.
Lifelong - AndleyAshley was 10 when he got his first babysitting job a the Biersack's house.
They had just moved in the neighborhood, and Ashley was impatient to wait another 6 years to get an actual paying job. He was too small and scrawny to be trusted with walking dogs, or fixing bikes and cars around the neighborhood either. Luckily, he was good at babysitting. He babysat his cousins all the time, so why not get a few extra dollars watching the neighbor's kid?
He was nervous. Very, very nervous. He wasn't sure how old the little Biersack was, he knew he was short and couldn't speak right normally, but he needed a job. Something to keep him occupied while everything was boring, and a few extra dollars wasn't too bad either. Ashley swung his leg over his bike and took off down the street, his skinny legs pumping and turning the petals quickly.
There was still a moving van outside their house, that's how new to the area they were. He saw Mr. Biersack carrying a stack of boxes out of the large orange U
Circus Freaks chapter 4 - SneakingI'm not staking out a circus. So not staking out a circus. I was just sitting in my car, watching the tent...for CC. And to see if I could catch a glimpse of Andrew.
Something about that vampire was intriguing, one look into his eyes and I just...knew....I needed to help him. He was enslaved, even if the fliers and disclaimers and shit said otherwise, he was in there against his will, which angered me beyond belief. How do you even enslave a vampire? How do you catch one against it's will? They're one of the most dangerous creatures to walk the planet, and they're keeping one for a circus show?
I looked up vampire stories on my phone while I tried to settle my stomach earlier and found lots of things about killing them, torture and other things. But also how damn hard it was to even accomplish hurting a vampire. I sighed and focused my eyes more on the tent, fighting back any thought that told me to go in there. No. I wasn't going to see Andrew get tortured, or let him believe
Only Sleeping: AndleyI looked at his sleeping form from the doorway. Watching him sleep had always brought a smile to my lips, and it almost did even now. Then I remembered that he wasn't only sleeping. The one I love was in a coma, and had been for nearly two years. The doctors kept telling me I didn't need to come in everyday due to the fact that he wasn't likely to wake up anytime soon, but I didn't care I came to visit him every day anyway. He was there and I had to be here to help his unconscious self find him. One day he would wake up.
Nobody, not even the doctors, knew why he had fallen into a coma. They had thought maybe it had been due to stress, but they had said he would have woken up by now if that had been the cause.
I walked over to the hospital bed that held my baby and a tear rolled down my cheek. No matter how long I had to get used to this, seeing him lying there with all those wires hooked up to him was still enough to make me cry.
Sitting on the bed next to him I looked at the calendar.
Spiritual Sanity - Chapter 1 (Andley)Ashley Purdy sat up quickly in bed, his heart thumping madly in chest, battering uncomfortably against his ribs. His thin t-shirt clung to his sweat covered chest, which was rising and falling quickly with each sharp gasp. Tears welled up in his dark chocolate coloured eyes, before they spilled out and dripped down his tanned cheeks. Each son that wracked his body, got louder with each slow agonizing minute that passed by, as realization kicked in.
The pain hadn't gone away. Andy was still dead, and Ashley, was still stuck here, fully living and alone. The guilt still tugged on his heart strings, and sat in his gut, slowly picking away at him. "If I had gone out sooner, I could have saved him. Andy would still be alive...". He choked on his last few words, hunching up his legs to his chest, buring his face in his knee's. He covered his mouth with one of his hands, but it was too late.
Jake came running in, wrapping his arms around Ashely quickly, rubbing his back in slow gentle c
Ouiji Boards - BVB Fanfiction."Hey Ashley..."
Andy walked onto the bus, a retangular piece of carboard clutched in his hands wrapped in plastic wrap. He was staring down at it, his eyebrows crooked down staring at the brown board in wonder.
"Whats up?" Ashley called from the sofa. He was playing video games with CC.
"I got this at the st-"
"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!" Jinxx came thumping across the bus, jumping over Ashley and CC's legs he grabbed the piece of cardboard from Andy and examined it closely.
"Oh my god you didn't." Jinxx handed it back to Andy, backing away.
"What?" CC asked. Everyone was looking at Andy.
He mumbled something, hiding it behind his back.
"What is it?" Jake got up and started towards Andy.
"Itsajeeboard!" he said, backing up.
"What?" CC repeated.
"I'm so confused..." Ashley said.
"Ouija board!" Jinxx yelled as Andy held it out of anyone's reach.
The room was quiet. Everyone glanced at eachother.
"I thought it'd be fun but NO everyone flips their shit." Andy said, sitting it down on the
They Won't Be Hurting You Anymore... - AndleyFighting back never entered my mind- any attempt would be futile and, in any case, it was easier just to grin and bear their attacks and pretend that nothing was wrong...
The end of the school day saw me limping the five minute walk home, an ungodly pain in my left wrist...I don't know if I'll be able to hide this...
I don't live with my parents -ha, they're not even worthy of that title- I live with my best friends and band-mates. My brothers...the only people who genuinely love me and care about me.
I'm the only one still in high school, the youngest. I want to be a graphic designer, and go to college, so I'm staying in school. Currently a junior. They all dropped out during summer vacation, meaning that I've spent the last three months alone, subject to the abuse of bullies who make my life hell daily, just for being me: Ashley Purdy. At least when my brothers were with me, it was bearable...but then again, I've been subjected to abuse my whole life, so b
Feels Like Home - AndleyLove isn't something you can just dismiss into the wind, something you can forget about. True love strikes you at the worst moments and leaves you breathless. It leaves your soul, the very core of your existence, begging for more. Simply laying eyes upon that lucky person makes every single cell in your body vibrate with pure energy and unadulterated love. Their voice sends shivers down your spine and one look into their god-sent eyes is like a gift bestowed upon you by the highest powers of heaven. The smallest touch can be felt days afterwards, a delicate heat that warms even the darkest depths of your heart. Every heartbeat and electric impulse, all of it whispers their name through the life blood slipping through your veins; every breath and blink of your eyes exists because they do.
Everything you do belongs to them because your heart is their's. It always has been and always will be.
Hospital Situations: Andley"Andy!" Ashley called from his bedroom.
"What Ash?" I called back after turning the volume down on the television.
"Can you please come here?"
"Why not?" he yelled sounding desperate and angry.
"Because. Why can't you come down here?" I asked wondering what he could have done this time.
"Andy please."
With a sigh I got up off the couch and walked up the stairs into Ashley's room.
When I walked in Ashley looked at me with a deer in the headlights look. With him not wanting to move from under the blankets I pretty much guessed what was wrong, but that did not mean I wasn't going to make him explain the situation to me.
"Andy, I have a problem." He said and I just continued to stare at him from the doorway.
"And what would that be?"
"I kind of took that drug Jinxx gave me a few days ago."
I grinned at him mockingly. "The one that boosts your sexual need or whatever?" I asked knowing without a doubt that that was the one.
"So your problem is?"
"The box said to see a doctor i
Kiss The Lips Of Evil Ch. 35 - Andy
"How about Dennis if it's a boy." I smiled pushing the cart down the isle. Ash and I have been married for seven years and a little over nine months ago we decided to have a baby. He was visiting his Mom and Dad for a while.
"Great. And Ashlynn if it's a girl." He laughed into the phone. "I miss you."
"I miss you too. Come home soon though, I've got good news for you." I was bubbling over. I wanted to tell him the news, but I had to wait until I saw the expression on his face.
"I'll be back tomorrow night. Wait up for me?"
"I will."
"Love you baby."
"Love you too Ashley. Bye." I hung up the phone and went down the isle for toys. I couldn't wait until Ash was home.
"Baby, I'm home." I heard him call from the front door. I ran down the stairs and jumped into his arms. "I missed you so much." He smiled. We moved into a house in a small suburb a few years ago when we started talking about babies.
"I know. Come upstairs to the babies room. I want to show you something." I kissed him and pul
Insomnia: Andley"Ash," a deep voice said in a whisper as I felt a finger poke into my side. "I can't sleep."
A slight smile found its way onto my face as I opened my eyes enough to see Andy standing next to my bunk, waiting for me to wake up.
"Okay Andy." I said and moved over closer to the wall and held the blanket up so he could climb in next to me. "What has occupied your mind this time?" I asked as he laid down.
He didn't answer me right away. At first he only wrapped his arms around my waist and put his head against my chest.
"I don't know Ash."
I nodded and started running my hand through his soft hair.
Truth be told these moments really hurt me. I loved Andy and would do anything for him but I knew he didn't feel the same way. I was so desperate to be with him though that I would lay with him like this pretending that he was mine.
"Ashley, what are you thinking about?" Andy said looking up at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his.
"Don't lie Ashley. I can tell you're thinking abou
Yours in Eternity: AndleyThe students that sat in the gymnasium bleachers that day looked bored. Most of them showed no emotion even though two of their classmates had been taken by death. The truth was most of the kids there had never really known the two that had died, they had been nobodies. But now that they were gone the students finally realized how terribly they had treated the two.
In the crown of guilty students however, sat the deceased's group of friends. These students had tears covering their cheeks. These few students knew who the two had been and were filled to the brink with sorrow. None of them had wanted to believe that they would never see their two friends again.
"I just can't believe they are really gone." The boy named CC said to his friends while wiping some of the tears from his face.
"I know what you mean buddy. We're never going to hear Ashley being a pervert again." Jake replied wiping away some of his own tears and patting CC on the shoulder.
"Or hear Andy and Ashley be all lovey to
Mistletoe: Andley"You know your family is probably going to wonder why you are bringing your best friend instead of a girlfriend." Ashley said spinning around in my desk chair as I got dressed.
I pulled my shirt over my head. "I know Ash, but I won't be able to make it through this Christmas party without you."
"Even with me I'm not so sure we'll make it. Your parents have told me your family is a little homophobic."
"Believe me, I know. Why do you think no one but my parents know? If any of my cousins knew about it I would never be able to talk to them, or show my face, ever again. Please Ashley, just come with me and stay with me." I said and sat down in his lap wrapping my arm around his shoulders.
He wrapped his arms around my waist. "I never said I wouldn't, I just want you to know that they will probably see right through the best friend thing. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I know Ash, but if you're there being hurt won't be that bad."
He looked doubtful but I knew he would go
So Lucky: AndleyI looked down at the sleeping form of my boyfriend in my lap with one thought: how did I get so lucky? I went from an alcoholic that would fuck anything with a pulse to a sober, caring boyfriend. If I didn't have Andy I would probably be hangover at the moment.
"Ash no!" Andy yelled as he started to thrash around in my arms.
"Shh, Andy, calm down baby." I cooed to him, rubbing calming circles on his back.
Tears started falling from Andy's eyes and I had no clue what to do. I was worried that if I woke him up he would still be terrified of whatever when he woke up. And since he had said my name in a terrified voice, I was worried if I woke him he would be terrified of me, and I couldn't stand that thought.
A few minutes later the tears had slowed and Andy seemed to be sleeping peacefully again.
I shook his shoulder gently. "Honey, wake up."
Andy's face scrunched up, making me laugh, and then he opened his eyes.
"Hello gorgeous." I said as he sat up and moved off of my lap to sit next to
The Scientist: AndleyCome up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
I gripped the roses in my shaking hands, and paid the smiling girl behind the counter.
"Thank you." I said, forcing myself to return her bright smile.
"Your girlfriend must be very lucky to have you," she said. "Those are the best roses." My smile wavered slightly.
"Yes She She is." I tried to keep my voice from going shaky too. She smiled again as I turned to walk away. I pushed open the door, to here that little happy tinkle from the bell. My heart fell a little. It seemed everyone was happy apart from me. I held the bloodred roses to my chest, and walked away from the place that sung out it's little, happy tune.
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh, let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming up tails
Heads on a science apart
I closed my eyes a little, and took a deep breath. It was close now, I jus
|Sta.sh Submit


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Red Herring Brown 'Holly' super skinny jeans
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beach guide - Page 3
5 Ways to Stay Fit at the Jersey Shore This Spring
With all the great views at the beautiful parks, trails and boardwalks nearby, why not take advantage of the Jersey Shore for your spring exercising routine? As we prepare for the summer season, here are some of the most popular activities to stay fit and healthy at the Jersey Shore this Spring!
Great Jersey Shore Restaurants to Celebrate Mother's Day
Jersey Shore Guide to Nature and Wildlife Centers
The Top 10 Most Outrageous Swimsuits of All Time
Seaside Heights' Casino Pier At a Glance [Photos]
Remarkably, a great deal of progress has been made to Restore NJ and to rebuild Seaside Heights' popular boardwalk. In honor of this tremendous effort to bring back Seaside's beloved boardwalk, here's a trip down memory lane through photos of the historically famous landmark, Casino Pier in Seaside Heights!
8 Slimming Superfoods to Get You Ready for the Jersey Shore
Jersey Shore Guide to Zoos and Aquariums for Kids
The Jersey Shore's Best Dog Parks
Top 5 Jersey Shore Parks Where You Can Get a Great Workout
New Jersey is full of beautiful parks and recreation areas to enjoy on a gorgeous day, especially if you're one of the many people looking for a place to get in shape for the summer. Find out which parks at the Jersey Shore are the best locations for exercise! Let us hear your favorites in the comment section below.


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for set of 2 itemsOn Sale
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Product Information:
Legend has it that Ultima Thule was a far northern island buried in ice and snow, where the sun never set. Two thousand years ago, the ancient Greeks thought it was the edge of the world. Ultima Thule also has a deeper meaning; the extreme limits and capabilities of humankind, the ability to achieve the unattainable. Determined and continued experimentation with glassblowing techniques created Ultima Thule's unusual organic effect. The form gradually changes as molten glass burns the surface of the wooden moulds, crystallizing a particularly Finnish expression of glass in an eternal design classic.
Weights & Dimensions
|Product Type: Red wine glass
|Style: Classic
|Color: Clear
|Primary Material: Lead Free Crystal
|Number of Items Included: 2
|Pieces Included: 2 Glasses
Glass/Crystal Component: Yes
Gift Box Included: Yes
|Number of Glasses In Set: 2
|Dishwasher Safe: Yes
|Capacity: 7.8 Ounces
|Country of Manufacture: Finland
About the ManufacturerIn the quiet north, there is a country that specializes in aesthetics and functional design. In Finland, in a town called Iittala, style and high quality are traditions that remain relevant for generations to come. Whenever an object is produced in the iittala factory, it has to feel, last and work like iittala. The tactility and high quality of the materials can be felt with your bare hands. Objects like that, will work anytime, anywhere with anything. Objects like that will never be thrown away.
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We want you to love it. If you don't, you may return your purchase within 30 days of delivery. All you need to do is visit our Self-Service Return Center for instructions. Return credits are issued within 24 hours once the item is received and inspected. Please note that shipping charges are non-refundable. The cost of return shipping will be deducted from your refund. 30-Day Return Policy
Overall Rating
Based on 4 reviews
Customer PhotosAdd your own photo
Awesome quality and unique design! molly from renton, WA on 12/03/2014 – Verified Buyer
These glasses are a great weight and conversation piece. Perfect for red wines and sherry! The only thing I would change about them is the stem - I wish it was a bit longer. Pros: Dishwasher safe, sturdy, truly unique design and detail Cons: None really - the stem could be a little bit longer.
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Beautiful Anna from Highland Park, IL on 05/05/2014 – Verified Buyer
I love these smWayfair. They have a nice weight to them and a little sparkle. Perfect also for your morning glass of juice.
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lovely Billie Doyle from Blaine, WA on 01/08/2013 – Verified Buyer
I love the design of this red wine glass. There also good for sipping tequila. They are a different type of glass for wine, we enjoyed..
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Westlawn Middle School will begin an after-school program on August 24, 2015. All students are eligible to attend our Extended Learning Time each Monday and Wednesday from 3:00 p.m. until 4:00 p.m. Students will have individualized, targeted instruction that will focus on their academic needs. Students who stay for Extended Learning time will be served dinner. Students who normally ride the bus home from school will be provided bus transportation.
Please use the link below to register your child for Extended Learning Time.
Extended Learning Time Student Application
Students are not required to wear uniforms this year.
Please see the HCS Dress Code Policy for more information.
Please use the link below to access the schedule of Parent/Guardian workshops.
Parent/Guardian workshop schedule
HCS Virtual Course Description Guide
U.S. Department of Education recognizes WESTLAWN as a model turnaround school click here for more info
Click here to access 2015 - 2016 School Year Documents
Need help accessing Pearson curriculum? click here
Copyright © 2015 Westlawn Middle


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It's crazy enough to build your own 3D-milling machine, but to build it out of LEGOs is downright insane.
Arthur Sacek lives in Sao Paulo, Brazil, and works for Zoom Education for Life. Part of his job involves inventing things made out of LEGO – which makes me wonder what other really cool jobs my high school counselor failed to tell me about.
Back to Sacek's milling machine – except for the bit, everything in it is from the LEGO Mindstorms NXT 2.0 building system. In the video below you can see it machine an incredibly life-like statue of a head out of foam. I'll admit, it's not the same as milling something out of wood or steel – but what do you expect from a machine that's made out of plastic?
Home-Made and Modified Tools
David Frane
If Ron Paulk's original portable workbench was excellent (and it was), then this new...
25 favorites from the outgoing editor.
Two are among the last of their kind and one is unlike any that ever existed.
Simple? Yes. Stupid? No; it's actually quite smart.
Twice the batteries, twice the voltage, and more than twice the speed of the...
Please read our Content Guidelines before posting.
Check out Tool Videos from our Editors and Contributors
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2015 Hanley Wood Media, Inc. All rights reserved.


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Software Engineer - Applications
Sonos - Santa Barbara, CA
This job posting is no longer available on Index Ventures. Find similar jobs:Software Engineer jobs - Sonos jobs
About this company
Sonos is the developer of wireless multi-room music systems for the digital home. The award-winning Sonos(TM) Digital Music System is...


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(ST. LOUIS): Humans are frequently blamed for deforestation and the destruction of environments, yet there are also examples of peoples and cultures around the world that have learned to manage and conserve the precious resources around them. The Yanesha of the upper Peruvian Amazon and the Tibetans of the Himalayas are two groups of indigenous peoples carrying on traditional ways of life, even in the face of rapid environmental changes. Over the last 40 years, Dr. Jan Salick, senior curator and ethnobotanist with the William L. Brown Center of the Missouri Botanical Garden has worked with these two cultures. She explains how their traditional knowledge and practices hold the key to conserving, managing and even creating new biodiversity in a paper released in the new text, "Biodiversity in Agriculture: Domestication, Evolution, and Sustainability," published by Cambridge University Press.
The Yanesha and Tibetans are dramatically different peoples living in radically dissimilar environments, but both cultures utilize and highly value plant biodiversity for their food, shelters, clothing and medicines.
"Both cultures use traditional knowledge to create, manage and conserve this biodiversity, and both are learning to adapt to and mitigate the effects of climate change," said Salick. "They have much to teach and to offer the world if we can successfully learn to integrate science and traditional knowledge."
The Yanesha live a few hundred meters above sea level at the headwaters of the Amazon basin in central Peru. The people possess traditional knowledge about one of the most diverse tropical rainforests in the world. Salick studied the cocona (Solanum sessiliflorum), a fruit native to the upper Amazon, nutritionally important especially for women and children. She found the Yanesha have increased the genetic diversity of the species over time through preferential selection of oddly sized and shaped fruits.
"In the c
|Contact: Karen Hill
Missouri Botanical Garden


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Welcome to DCHappyHours.com, Washington DC's best happy hours! It's time for happy hour in DC!
Welcome to DCHappyHours.com, Washington DC's best happy hours! We hope you find the Happy Hour special you're looking for, and if not, don't hesitate to leave feedback or add a listing. Now you can submit reviews, save favorites, search for happy hours near your home and more with MyDCHH. It's time for happy hour in DC!
Near Me! | Right Now! | Near Me & Right Now! | Near an Address
Area: Ballston
Happy Hour: 3PM-8PM
$2.50 Domestic Drafts; $3.50 Craft Drafts; $4 Rail Drinks; $5 Mojitos; $5 Red/White Wine; $5 Jack Daniels Honey; 6 Pc A-Town Sushi $6; $5 Appetizers (Chicken Wings, Empanadas, Meatballs, Chicken Quesadilla, Deluxe Nachos); Half Price Apps
Area: Clarendon
Area: Crystal City
Area: Courthouse
Happy Hour: 3PM-7PM
$3 Yuengling, Miller Lite, Bud, Bud Light; $4 Blue Moon; Other Drafts $1 Off; $4 Glasses of House Wine; $5 Rail Cocktails
Area: Arlington
Happy Hour: 4:30PM-6:30PM
50% OFF Cocktails; $4.00 Starters
Happy Hour: 3PM-6PM
1/2 Price All Alcoholic Beverages; 1/2 Price All Appetizers
Happy Hour: 5PM-9PM
Abita Amber Pitchers - $14 and $3 Each - Abita Amber on Tap - Pimento Cheese & Triscuits - Deviled Eggs - Pickled Black-eyed Pea Hummus - Spicy Cheese Straws - Bacon Bleu Cheese Dip - Hot Nuts
Happy Hour: 3:20PM-7:20PM
$3.20 Bud Light Drafts; $4.20 Port City Drafts; $5.20 Wine of the Day; $3.20 Chips and Salsa, 3 Pretzel Rolls with Sauces, Chips, Garlic Fries, or 6 Wings; $6.20 Chicken Tenders, Cheese Burger, Spicy Meatballs, or Turkey Chili
Area: Rosslyn
Happy Hour: 4PM-7PM
$2 Coors Light Tallboys; $3 Drafts; $4 Glasses of Wine
Happy Hour: 11AM-8PM
$6 Spinach Dip; $6 Chicken Wings; $6 Petite Bao Buns; $6 Soup & Comfort
Area: Shirlington
$2 Off Draft Beers; $3 Miller Lite Beer; $4 Margaritas
Happy Hour: 5:30PM-7:30PM
$1.25 Nigiri Sushi; $2.50 Drafts; $2 Appetizers at the Bar
$2.50 Beer Bottles; $2 Off Super Size Margaritas; $1 Off Regular Size Margaritas and Sangria
Area: Columbia Heights
$5 Appetizer Specials
$3.50 Miller Lite; $4 Select Premium Beers; 1/2 Price Select Appetizers
Happy Hour: 5PM-7PM
1/2 Priced Oysters; $4 Draft Beers; $5 Cocktails; $4 Wine; $5 Sangria; $3 Small Bites and Dips
Area: Pentagon City
Happy Hour: 3PM-7PM; 10PM-Close
Happy Hour Specials
Area: Falls Church
$3.25 - 16oz Draft; $6 - 34oz Super Mug Draft
$6 Happy Hour Food; Happy Hour Priced Draft Beer; Bartender's Choice Wine by the Glass
Happy Hour: 4PM-8PM
1/2 Price Beer, Wine, and Rails
Happy Hour: 4PM-9PM
Happy Hour: 5PM-8PM
$3 Select Draft Beers; Selected 1/2 Price Appetizers
$1 Oysters; $1 Off Beer and Wine
Area: Court House
Area: Yorktown
1/2 Price Appetizers; $2.25 Miller Lite Drafts; $2.75 Pub Ale, Blue Moon and Yuengling Drafts; All Drafts, Bottles, Wine Glasses and Rail Drinks Up To 50% Off (4pm-7pm);
Area: Virginia Square
Happy Hour: 3PM-6:30PM
$3 Beer (Abita Purple Haze, Otter Creek Black IPA, Brooklyn Lager, Breckenridge Lucky U IPA); $4 Sangria (Blackberry Red or Apricot White); $5 Featured Wines by the Glass (Red or White); $2 Pork Sliders; $3-$6 Small Plates
Various Specials
Area: Westover
We make every attempt to present accurate specials, however, specials are not guaranteed.
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Is this attraction free to the public?
Is gratuity suggested at this attraction?
Would this be a good rainy day activity?
Is there food available at this attraction?
Is a car required to access this attraction?
Is this attraction accessible using public transportation?
Is this attraction closed during certain parts of the year?
Does this attraction require payment to access?
Do you recommend that visitors take a guided tour at this attraction?
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Thanks for helping!
Go for a half-hour ride in a hot-air balloon.
We didn't have the chance to go on. A friend of mine did it and he said it was the highlight of his trip. Advertise more ... We would have done it.
Museum Guide for Mexico City
One Day in Mexico City
Mexico City - Then and Now
Must visit place!
So much fun we had, of course learnt a lot about Mexican history and native's religion and the culture.
My girlfriend had a great experience in the balloon recently. The experience was quite enjoyable, but beware most of the staff doesn´t speak English. The driver, who picked us up, was English and of course spoke brilliant English - and he looked like Santa! Great conversations for the morning commute.
There is no better way to see the pyramids, honestly. We had a private balloon over sunrise and it couldn't have been any more perfect. Our pilot Victor pulled out a bottle of sparkling during the climb for us to toast to. The views were like nothing else. The sight of seeing us and at least another 10 or so...
I don't think there's a more unique way to see the pyramids of Teotihuacan! They picked me up EARLY in the morning 6am from my hotel which is all the way in Santa Fe (the other far end of the city). Picking up all the other people like me in the next few hotel stops. As soon as the mini...
We have lived in Mexico City for almost a year and nobody ever told us about this new way of seeing Teotihuacan! Came across Volare right here on TripAdvisor and based on the positive reviews decided to book a flight. Our friend was visiting us from Africa and had never been on a balloon before; both hubby and I experienced...
booked a month ahead, called the week before we left canada, the said "yes we have your reservation we will pick you up at your hotel." The night before we had our hotel call to confirm the 6am pick up. the confirmed. 5:30 am we are in the lobby of the hotel. 6.15am no one is there we have the...
I took this flight, as I had in Turkey, in 2012. It was not the same experience. You must remember that flights in a balloon are determined by the direction of the wind. This is why the flights are early in the morning when, probably, the only influence on the flight is the earth's rotation. Thus, the balloons leave an...
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Softening the sound of drilling – with bubbles
Energy resources locked in rock beneath the sea are vital to world supplies. Yet noise from drilling and oil production activities can interfere with the communication channels of whales. Shell is investigating a novel way to reduce this impact: curtains of bubbles.
Underwater noise from a variety of industrial activities, including oil exploration drilling, can interfere with marine mammal communication. Surrounding seabed installations with a bubble curtain to deaden the sound could be one way of preventing this.
In Arctic waters, for example, the bowhead whale communicates using the same low-frequency range as the noise generated by potential drilling operations.
Moreover, indigenous people hunt the bowhead whale for food when it migrates twice a year through the region. There are concerns that noise from oil exploration activities could lead to whales following different routes, taking them out of reach of local communities.
Underwater curtains
To avoid this, Shell is experimenting with the use of bubble curtains for operations off the coast of Alaska in the coming years. The bubbles, around the size of a tennis ball, form a sound barrier.
In one approach Shell is testing, the bubbles consist of plastic spheres contained in fabric which is anchored or hung in a frame around the drilling installation.
Shell is working on the project with researchers at the University of Texas in the USA.
"Bubbles could solve a very complex problem, very simply," says John Ward, Shell Principal Concept Engineer.


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|Reviews for It's Hot
| Prustrian Beast chapter 1 . 4/19
Please continue with AoKise! Pretty, pretty please! XD
| fangirlhaven chapter 1 . 6/11/2014
I love do that; talking into a fan is so much fun.
| cal2277 chapter 1 . 4/16/2013
This is an awesome story! Looking forward to the Aokise one:D
Where will you post it?
| The Genesis Riddle chapter 1 . 10/20/2012
You can actually post some pretty explicit things. I've seen smut and sex slave stories on Ff
| Animecherryblossem33 chapter 1 . 10/6/2012
that's an awesome tongue twister lol XD Loved this 3 Great job!
| Nessie-san chapter 1 . 9/15/2012
Um... where exactly were you planning to post the others? (And plenty of people post even though the rules say not to... XD)
| Anon chapter 1 . 8/29/2012
Woah this was really great! I like how you write Takao a lot! So sexy and cool. Keep it up, cutie!


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Power Line Video has footage of the aftermath of a Palestinian rocket attack earlier today, that came close to hitting the home of Israeli Defence Minister Amir Peretz. The video, which you can see here, also includes footage, shot in Gaza, of Islamic Jihad terrorists setting off one of their new rockets.
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"Proclaim Liberty throughout All the land unto All the Inhabitants Thereof." Inscription on the Liberty Bell


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You Want it Bad, You'll Get it Bad
News Source : You Want it Bad, You'll Get it Bad
Congress is trying today to cobble together legislation regarding the invasion of our southern border. Lawmakers badly want to get out of town for a lengthy August recess and the legislation they are being asked to approve is looking pretty bad:
Bad for us taxpayers.
Bad for the effort to deal with tens of thousands of alien children and others President Obama has induced to come here illegally in search of amnesty.
And bad for the prospects of keeping yet more from coming across our still-open border.
Throwing hundreds of millions of dollars, let alone billions of them, at a problem like this without eliminating the magnet of amnesty – both that President Obama has unilaterally engineered to date and that he has in prospect – is worse than irresponsible. It's absolutely reckless.
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Honors: League celebrates local advocacy
May 6, 2015 Two Chautauqua County League of Women Voters honorees are deserving of recognition later this month. more »»
New goal set for Devil team
May 5, 2015 Chautauqua County does not embrace the sport of lacrosse like other counties in Western New York and the Finger Lakes. It has a lot to do with the tradition. This is a baseball county. more »»
Gowanda: Save the village, tax residents
May 4, 2015 It was bad enough the village of Gowanda was raising its tax rate nearly 10 percent on its residents and businesses. What's worse was the board's condescending attitude to a resident who attende. more »»
Highs and lows: Some of the best, worst of the week
May 2, 2015 Here are some of the best — and worst — of the week: BEST GIVING GRANDPARENTS — It's great to have a grandparent. It's great to be a grandparent. more »»
CITY LIBRARY Separate ways for two votes
May 2, 2015 Dunkirk City School District officials made a major statement last month when setting its annual budget vote for May 19. more »»
BALTIMORE Parents still make difference
May 1, 2015 Most parents probably would like to think they would behave as Toya Graham did when she saw her son throwing things at police officers during a riot in Baltimore. more »»
Minimum wage: Let cities set their own rates
April 30, 2015 Let's face it; New York City is expensive to live in. Rent in New York City compared to Northern Chautauqua County isn't even close. According to rentjungle. more »»
NEPAL Helping out in devastation
April 29, 2015 Nature's fury was on display in Nepal over the weekend. It has captured the world's attention and hearts. More than 4,500 have died in the 7.8 magnitude earthquake. more »»
Can village find candidate?
April 28, 2015 Brocton may be facing a dilemma as longtime community supporter and volunteer David Hazelton announced he will not be seeking re-election as village mayor. Hazelton succeeded current trustee J. more »»
Forestville: Stream of woes is overflowing
April 27, 2015 Another rebellion of sorts is taking place in Forestville — and it has nothing to do with the village's increasing taxe. more »»
HOSPITALS Going separate ways with more reductions
April 26, 2015 Something strange happened after the partnership between TLC Health Network and Brooks Memorial Hospital as the Lake Erie Regional Health System of New York came to an end. more »»
Highs and lows: Some of the best, worst of the week
April 25, 2015 Here are some of the best — and worst — of the week: BEST RELAY ON CAMPUS — Relay for Life held in June has been a powerful and successful event, raising both funds and awareness about cancer in the... more »»
CONGRESS Federal rules cuff leadership
April 24, 2015 Drug Enforcement Agency head Michele Leonhart is retiring — forced out of office because members of Congress were angry she had not responded decisively to reports of wrongdoing among DEA agents. more »»
School assault: There's value in SRO position
April 23, 2015 Fredonia village trustees say they can't justify spending village tax dollars on a school resource officer. more »»
Earth Day: Area already going green
April 22, 2015 A special anniversary has arrived today: it is the 45th Earth Day. There is a full-page advertisement and special section included in today's edition. more »»
'Frustrating' issue gets some hope
April 21, 2015 Town of Perrysburg officials are a bit more upbeat about prospects for the J.N. Adam site after a meeting last week. State Sen. more »»
Forestville: More penalties for residents
April 20, 2015 In its "do-gooder" mentality last March, county legislators did not truly understand the message they were sending the fiscally troubled village of Forestville. more »»
NEW YORK STATE Start-Up is in stall mode
April 19, 2015 At least our area is not lagging too far behind when it comes to a major state initiative. Last week, an unlikely coalition took on the New York's highly touted Start-Up New York program. more »»
Highs and lows: Some of the best, worst of the week
April 18, 2015 Here are some of the best — and worst — of the week: BEST MUSICAL SHOWCASE — Last weekend, Chautauqua Lake Central School hosted the very first Musical Theatre Showcase. more »»
DEFICIT 'Slightly' up is still unsightly
April 17, 2015 Federal deficit spending is up only "slightly" from last year's levels, according to a report this week. During the first six months of the fiscal year, deficit spending was $2. more »»


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