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Blogging from a comfy chair in Hoboken – snapshot by Karina Chapman
If you have ever read Oprah's magazine, you may be familiar with her monthly article, "What I know for sure". In this column, she discusses things she has learned or experienced. Then she describes some life lesson, explaining that no matter what, she knows this one thing is true.
I used to think I knew what was true for me, and I thought I was pretty good about taking care of myself and my family.
Until…I wasn't. And it didn't happen overnight; rather, I gave up bits of myself, piece by piece, forgetting that in order to function, I had to take time to go away and gather my thoughts by myself.
I used to be pretty good about it, but somewhere in the recurrent sinus infections, the financial challenges, the newness of blending our family with a parent, and the attention required by preschoolers and middle-schoolers, I forgot that about myself.
To be honest, I had gotten to the point that I felt guilty most of the time for doing just about anything for myself, except for this blog, and that is no way to live. Eventually all that stress, if unrelieved, builds up to where your body will turn on itself, in a simple attempt to get a rest.
That's also why I absolutely blew my stack when I was accused of neglecting my kids by blogging, which was the only consistent thing I did for myself at that point.
So after a week of reflecting, discussion, and time to process it all, this is what I have relearned for sure, courtesy of some naysayers who have since apologized:
Time is not a luxury. Time to yourself is not negotiable. Time to pay attention to your own needs and, yes, even your own wants is not time wasted.
It is very definitely NOT okay to care for others but neglect yourself, nor is it okay to put yourself last. It's also not okay to guilt yourself out of doing something that, deep down inside, you know you need.
The expectations and demands will always be there, but if you don't take the time to recharge and renew, you won't be able to meet any of them; if you try anyway, you might end up taking away too much of your own energy and spirit. That's when you find yourself exhausted, depressed, anxious, stressed, and utterly demoralized.
And that is no way to live.
Enjoy your life! Follow your bliss! Take the time you need to re-energize yourself! Life is too short to ignore. And if a naysayer comes along and gives you a hard time for living your life, just laugh…because you know better.
Have a wonderful Sunday evening!


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Oscar Blandi Jasmine Oil Shine Spray
Oscar Blandi Jasmine Oil Shine Spray Reviews
doesn't lastI really liked this product at first. It smoothed out the frizzies and smelled great, and a little went a long way, but my only complaint is that the effects really didn't last very long. My hair looked fantastic when I walked away from the mirror right after applying it, but when I looked in the mirror again about an hour later, my hair looked frizzy again. I hadn't been outside or doing anyth...read moreing that would cause my hair to get messed up. So considering that this is a bit of an expensive product, I really wouldn't recommend it — 2 years, 9 months agoLaurelJ | 153 reviews
Neither here nor there...Yeah, I don't get it. Not any better than any other serum I've tried. Makes my hair shiny. I think. And soft. I think. Just really unimpressed with this product especially reading all the rave reviews about it. — 2 years, 9 months agocherrypie | 196 reviews
The best hair product ever.Shine. Smoothness. Nice ends. This is the best hair product money can buy. Have used this since it came out. Have gone through five bottles. Glorious. — 2 years, 9 months agobecksstein | 160 reviews
Home » Reviews » Hair » Shine Serum + Gloss » Oscar Blandi Jasmine Oil Shine Spray
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Pizza Dough Rising Force In 2012 Politics
(YUM) among its top 10 and added only three more -- Domino's, Papa John's (PZZA) and Little Caesar's -- in its Top 30. When Consumer Reports asked subscribers to rate pizza chains this month, the highest scorer was Vancouver, Wash.-based Papa Murphy's Take 'N' Bake Pizza. The chain not only scored a lukewarm, left-in-the-delivery-guy's-car 7.8, but somehow managed to beat such rivals as CiCi's and Sbarro without cooking or delivering its pies.Pizza seemed to have a lot more power in the greasy, gastronomically questionable days of the '80s and '90s, and it comes as little surprise that much of the industry's political power stems from that success. For example, the man who sold Domino's to Bain Capital knew a little something about political influence. Domino's founder Tom Monaghan used his pizza fortune to lobby for anti-abortion causes and anti-abortion Supreme Court appointments. He also funded Catholic causes including Ave Maria University, the Catholic community of Ave Maria, Fla., and Ave Maria Mutual Funds, which feature companies whose operations are in line with Catholic teachings. Monaghan also briefly owned the Detroit Tigers before selling them to other politically active pizza entrepreneurs. Mike Ilitch and his wife Marian founded Little Caesar's in 1959 and came up with the "Pizza Pizza" idea of two pizzas for the price of one competitor's pie back in 1979. The proceeds helped the Ilitches build a sports empire that includes the Tigers and NHL's Detroit Red Wings, which have won four Stanley Cup titles since the couple bought the team in 1982 and have appeared in the playoffs for 20 consecutive seasons dating back to 1990-91. Their pizza earnings have also earned them some influence in political circles, with Mike and Marian making campaign contributions to Obama, New York Democratic senators Chuck Schumer and Kirsten Gillibrand, former New York City mayor and Republican candidate Rudy Giuliani and the Major League Baseball and Wendy's/Arby's Group (WEN - Get Report) political action committees. Pizza money's a proven commodity on the political sidelines, but can it also be the tip pizza industry alumni-turned-politicans need to deliver an election win? Perhaps this year's hopefuls should ask Pizza Hut president Mike Rawlings, who was sworn in as mayor of Dallas last month. "If you can run a pizza chain, how hard can it be to run a country?" Green says. "A CEO's job is not to make pizza, its to make money. You always have to balance the budget. That's the only way you get reelected." -- Written by Jason Notte in Boston. >To contact the writer of this article, click here: Jason Notte.The industry is also not all that it once was. The NPD Group counted 68,992 pizza shops in the U.S. in 2008 but in spring of 2010 said the number was at 65,859. Even PMQ thinks that number is off and puts the ranks closer to 64,950. Meanwhile, chains including Round Table Pizza, Sbarro and formerly pizza-centric Uno Chicago Grill all filed for bankruptcy within the past two years, with only Uno emerging. Of those, the Top 50 pizza chains own 42% of pizzerias and take in 48% of the sales. That's not exactly great news for pizza in general, as fast-food industry publication QSR ranked only Pizza Hut
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Nature Reserves & Centres
Our nature reserves provide havens for wildlife and places where you can experience Dorset's wonderful natural world. Except for Brownsea Island, our nature reserves are open throughout the year and are free of charge.
Click on the map icons below to find out more...
> You can also walk the Ant Hill Trail in west Dorset
SatNav user? Point of Interest (POI) files available
If you would like to download the POI files for most of the UK Wildlife Trust nature reserves, click here
Why have nature reserves?
| Living Landscapes | Living Seas | Jobs | e-news | Contact & Find Us
|www.intergage.co.uk | Web site Content Management


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- Filed Under
Two separate crashes on township roads Wednesday resulted in three people being hospitalized, police said.
A car ran into a tree on School Road East near Country Club Lane minutes before 5 p.m., said Sgt. Allan Bilinski. The crash temporarily trapped at least one of the car's occupants, he said.
One person - who was not identified because of the ongoing investigation - was ...


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- The Bridge on the Drina by Ivo Andric
- Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West
- Bosnian Chronicle by Ivo Andric
- The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
- Eastward to Tartary: Travels in the Balkans, the Middle… by Robert D. Kaplan
- The Encyclopedia of the Dead by Danilo Kiš
- The Balkan Trilogy by Olivia Manning
- Dictionary of the Khazars: A Lexicon Novel in 100,000 Words… by Milorad Pavić
- A Tomb for Boris Davidovich by Danilo Kiš
- Balkan Ghosts: A Journey Through History by Robert D. Kaplan
- Love Thy Neighbor: A Story of War by Peter Maass
- Cafe Europa: Life After Communism by Slavenka Drakulic
- Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis
- Death and the Dervish by Meša Selimović
- Dictionary of the Khazars: A Lexicon Novel in 100,000 Words… by Milorad Pavić
- Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon
- On the Eve by Ivan Turgenev
- The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope
- S.: A Novel about the Balkans by Slavenka Drakulic
- The White Castle by Orhan Pamuk
- The Ministry of Pain by Dubravka Ugrešić
- High Albania by M. E. Durham
- Danube by Claudio Magris
- Thank You for Not Reading: Essays on Literary Trivia by Dubravka Ugrešić
- Early Sorrows by Danilo Kiš
- Dracula [Norton Critical Edition] by Bram Stoker
- How We Survived Communism & Even Laughed by Slavenka Drakulic
- Other Colors: Essays and a Story by Orhan Pamuk
- Arms and the Man by George Bernard Shaw
- People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks
- Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
- The Dean's December by Saul Bellow
- The Three-Arched Bridge by Ismail Kadare
- Garden, Ashes by Danilo Kiš
- Dracula by Bram Stoker
- The General of the Dead Army by Ismail Kadare
- De herberg met het hoefijzer by A. den Doolaard
- Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl
- The Painter of Battles by Arturo Pérez-Reverte
- Eothen by Alexander William Kinglake
- Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie
- The Cellist of Sarajevo by Steven Galloway
- Een masker voor de macht : over Ismail Kadare by Piet De Moor
- The Pasha's Concubine and Other Tales by Ivo Andric
- The Woman from Sarajevo by Ivo Andric
- Sarajevo Marlboro by Miljenko Jergović
- Granta 33: What Went Wrong by Bill Buford
- The Singer of Tales by Albert B. Lord
- In Europe: Travels Through the Twentieth Century by Geert Mak
- The File on H.: A Novel by Ismail Kadare
- The New Military Humanism: Lessons From Kosovo by Noam Chomsky
- The Alexiad of Anna Comnena by Anna Comnena
- Broken April by Ismail Kadare
- Nowhere Man by Aleksandar Hemon
- Balkan Blues: Writing Out of Yugoslavia by Joanna Labon
- Die Schule der Gottlosigkeit by Aleksandar Tišma
- Repetition by Peter Handke
- The Lazarus Project by Aleksandar Hemon
- Words of Mercury by Patrick Leigh Fermor
- White Eagles Over Serbia by Lawrence Durrell
- A Time of Gifts: On Foot to Constantinople: From the Hook… by Patrick Leigh Fermor
- The Mask of Dimitrios by Eric Ambler
- Between the Woods and the Water by Patrick Leigh Fermor
- The Turkish Gambit by Boris Akunin
- The Levant trilogy by Olivia Manning
- Zlata's diary by Zlata Filipović
- Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernières
- Ogen op de rug : terugkijkend naar boeken en tijdgenoten by A. den Doolaard
- My Family's Role in the World Revolution and Other Prose by Bora Ćosić
- The banquet in Blitva by Miroslav Krleža
- Esprit De Corps & Stiff Upper Lip by Lawrence Durrell
- Che: A Permanent Tragedy by Matija Bećković
- Servië en het Westen : een historische schets van… by Milo Anstadt
- The Ruins of Athens : A Balkan Memoir by P. H. Liotta
- Lightning from the Depths: An Anthology of Albanian Poetry by Robert Elsie
- The sub-prefect should have held his tongue, and other… by Hubert Butler
- Borderlands: Nation and Empire by Scott Malcomson
- Three Elegies for Kosovo by Ismail Kadare
- Oriënt-Express by A. den Doolaard
- Croatian Tales of Long Ago by Ivana Brlić-Mažuranić
- Dok budes pevao (While you sing) by Branko Miljkovic
- The Houses of Belgrade by Borislav Pekić
- Dubrovačka trilogija by Ivo Vojnović
- The Brave Adventures of Lapitch by Ivana Brlić-Mažuranić
- Der nächtliche Rat by Dzevad Karahasan
- State of Siege by Juan Goytisolo
- Marble Skin: A Novel by Slavenka Drakulic
- Fording the Stream of Consciousness by Dubravka Ugrešić
- Het land achter Gods rug by A. den Doolaard
- For za Sarajevo by Lusitania [Magazine]
- Heldensagen en legenden van de Serviërs by Woislav M. Petrovitch
- A Celebration by Rebecca West
- The Accursed Mountains: Journeys in Albania by Robert Carver
- From the Land of Silent People by Robert St. John
- A history of modern Serbia, 1804-1918 by Michael Boro Petrovich
- Once Again for Thucydides by Peter Handke
- The Dawning by Milka Bajic-Poderegin
- Doruntine by Ismail Kadare
- Evelyn Waugh: The Later Years, 1939-1966 by Martin Stannard
- The Appointment by Herta Müller
- Sarajevo Blues by Semezdin Mehmedinovic
- Antrobus Complete by Lawrence Durrell
- Mediterranean: A Cultural Landscape by Predrag Matvejevic
- The Return of Philip Latinowicz by Miroslav Krleža
- The Siege by Ismail Kadare
- Hidden Camera by Zoran Zivkovic
- The Cretan Runner by George Psychoundakis
- Fax from Sarajevo by Joe Kubert
- The Way of the World by Nicolas Bouvier
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- On the Shores of the Mediterranean by Eric Newby
- The Question of Bruno: Stories by Aleksandar Hemon
- Sailing from Byzantium: How a Lost Empire Shaped the World by Colin Wells
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- The 8:55 to Baghdad: From London to Iraq on the Trail of… by Andrew Eames
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- The Lost Prince by Frances Hodgson Burnett
- Justinian's Flea: Plague, Empire, and the Birth of Europe by William Rosen
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- War Is a Force that Gives Us Meaning by Chris Hedges
- The Age of Faith by Will Durant


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Brodkin, Lisa F., MD
Mathematics, University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario, CanadaMD:
Queen's University, Kingston, Ontario, CanadaResidency:
Internal Medicine, Rhode Island Hospital/Brown University, Providence, RIFellowship:
Diabetes, Endocrinology, and Metabolism, Joslin Clinic and Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, Lahey Clinic Foundation/Harvard University School of Medicine, Boston, MABoard Certification:
Internal Medicine, American Board of Internal MedicineHospital Affiliations:
Overlook Medical CenterLanguages:
I am accepting new patients.
Personal Notes:
Before joining Summit Medical Group, Lisa F. Brodkin, MD, was an internist with Paramount Medical Group in Warren, New Jersey. Dr. Brodkin also has practiced with Kaiser Permanente Medical Group in Anaheim, California. She has been Assistant Clinical Professor of Medicine at the University of California San Diego Medical Center in La Jolla. After completing her residency, Dr. Brodkin worked for an internal medicine and endocrinology group in Providence, Rhode Island.
"The reward of getting to know my patients over time is among the many reasons I enjoy primary care," says Dr. Brodkin. She adds, "I believe that a good relationship between patients and their physicians is built on trust, mutual respect, and empathy." An advocate for preventive care, Dr. Brodkin educates her patients about making healthy choices in their lives.
When she is not working with her patients, Dr. Brodkin enjoys exploring New Jersey with her husband and 2 children.


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Electricity Industry Center
Professor of engineering and public policy Jay Apt and professor of economics Lester Lave discuss the Electricity Industry Center at Carnegie Mellon University. The Center has merges engineering, economics, risk analysis, decision science to study the inherently interdisciplinary problems of the electricity industry.
If you are unable to see the video above, you will need to download and install Adobe Flash Player.


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- Filed Under
Day in Court is a regular feature of Sheboygan Press Media. Listings include all felonies, all drunken driving convictions and all other convictions with jail time or fines of $600 or more.
Theft, misdemeanor bail jumping (two counts) - after revocation of probation
Kevin P. Yurk, 44, 910 New York Ave., 3 ½ years prison, three years extended supervision, $1,184, 596 day sentence credit.
Possession of narcotic drugs, misdemeanor operating while revoked
Justin D. Adams, 32, 119 S. Milwaukee St., Plymouth, 20 days jail, $973.
Manufacture/deliver cocaine (three counts) - after revocation of probation
Cortez L. Thurman, 26, 523 S. 15th St., four years prison, four years extended supervision, $479, 647 day sentence credit.
Marijuana possession with intent to deliver, maintain drug trafficking place
Adam H. Westenberger, 30, 1415 Jefferson Ave., 90 days jail, three years probation, $1,998, one day sentence credit.
Marijuana possession (second offense)
Denley W. Travers, 43, Milwaukee, $1,312.
Possession of drug paraphernalia, bail jumping
Zachary J. Benirschke, 31, 1309 Pennsylvania Ave., Apt. B, 10 days jail, $697.
Resisting or obstructing an officer, bail jumping
Kelly T. Carmody, 50, 1223A Lincoln Ave., 40 days jail, $698.
Resisting or obstructing an officer
Jemehl K. Graham, 19, 710 Pennsylvania Ave., $717.
Battery, disorderly conduct
Tonia L. Stephan, 44, Kiel, $787.
Disorderly conduct
Jesus C. Gomez, 38, 1110 S. 11th St., $654.
Resisting or obstructing an officer
Spencer K. Price, 31, 920 Erie Ave., $686.
Disorderly conduct
Shane M. Storlie, 36, 3924 Sunflower Ave., five days jail, $754, eight day sentence credit.
Bail jumping
Dallas D. Hodler, 34, 3228 N. 27th St., Apt. B, 30 days jail, $1,192.
Battery, disorderly conduct (two counts)
Kyle J. Corning, 19, 608 E. Clifford St., Plymouth, 18 months probation, $941.
Operating while intoxicated
Katherine A. Wagner, 57, 343 N. Stafford St., Plymouth, third offense, 45 days jail, two year license revocation, $1,710.
Randy J. Sippel, 51, N7731 W. County Highway A, Elkhart Lake, third offense, 50 days jail, 26 month license revocation, $1,632, three day sentence credit.
David A. Koenig, 55, 1727 S. 21st St., second offense, 40 days jail, 18 month license revocation, $1,636.
Wendy J. Sullivan, 23, 111 Orchard Lane, Plymouth, first offense, eight month license revocation, $888.
Becky L. Miller, W4631 County Highway U, Plymouth, first offense, seven month license revocation, $818.
Jospeph J. Simons, 30, 324 N. Wisconsin Drive, first offense, seven month license revocation, $818.
Operating while intoxicated (second offense), disorderly conduct (domestic abuse)
Tara L. Rossey, 30, 1041 Happy Lane, Apt. 5, Sheboygan Falls, 10 days jail, 14 month license revocation, $1,711, one day sentence credit.
Operating with a prohibited alcohol concentration
Scott A. Anderson, 48, W6574 County Highway C, Plymouth, first offense, six month license revocation, $818.
Hit and run, resisting or obstructing an officer
Jerome I. Hanson, 23, 3901 Heather Valley Road, Apt. 201, one year probation, $1,086.
Operating while revoked
James F. Hume Jr., 39, 512 N. Eighth St., 10 days jail, $255.


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Skier's Choice - Drafters
Drafters are a mix of POWDER staffers, freelancers, and others who have made skiing the sole focus in their lives. They come from all parts of the country, have backgrounds as varied as park skier to exclusively backcountry. Along with their background, you'll find their daily boot and binding, which is used to complete their skier profile.


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Yumberry with Blueberry
Frutzzo Yumberry
BevNET Review
Last Updated: 11/9/2007 5:44 PM
Yumberry with Blueberry delivers a slightly lighter "yumberry" flavor than the 100% variety, but it fails to deliver strong enough blueberry flavor. Looking at the ingredients panel, there are a variety of flavors that have been added in addition to blueberry and yumberry, including apple, pineapple, pear, elderberry, and organic flavorings. We certainly don't question the quality of the drink -- and the flavor is actually quite enjoyable -- but we'd still like more blueberry. Otherwise, we think that Frutzzo has done a superb job crafting this product's flavor and packaging.
Product Type
Container12 oz glass
Nutritional Info
Calories 110, Total Fat 0g, Cholesterol 0mg, Sodium 5mg, Potassium 320 mg, Total Carb 26g, Fiber 1g, Sugars 22g, Protein less than 1 g, Vitamin C 30% RDV, Calcium 2% RDV, Iron 8% RDV.
Organic Yumberry, Organic apple, Organic pear, Organic pineapple, Organic blueberrry, Organic Elderberry juices from concentrate, organic flavors.
Additional Images (1)Upload More Images


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Anxiety (cont.)
Roxanne Dryden-Edwards, MD
Dr. Roxanne Dryden-Edwards is an adult, child, and adolescent psychiatrist. She is a former Chair of the Committee on Developmental Disabilities for the American Psychiatric Association, Assistant Professor of Psychiatry at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, and Medical Director of the National Center for Children and Families in Bethesda, Maryland.
Melissa Conrad Stöppler, MD
Melissa Conrad Stöppler, MD, is a U.S. board-certified Anatomic Pathologist with subspecialty training in the fields of Experimental and Molecular Pathology. Dr. Stöppler's educational background includes a BA with Highest Distinction from the University of Virginia and an MD from the University of North Carolina. She completed residency training in Anatomic Pathology at Georgetown University followed by subspecialty fellowship training in molecular diagnostics and experimental pathology.
In this Article
- Generalized anxiety disorder facts
- What is generalized anxiety disorder (GAD)?
- What are the different types of anxiety?
- How common is generalized anxiety disorder?
- What are causes and risk factors for anxiety?
- What are anxiety symptoms and signs?
- How is generalized anxiety disorder diagnosed?
- What is the treatment for anxiety?
- What are the side effects of anxiety medications?
- What are complications of generalized anxiety disorder?
- Is it possible to prevent anxiety?
- What is the prognosis of generalized anxiety disorder?
- Are there support groups for those with generalized anxiety disorder?
- Where can people find additional information on generalized anxiety disorder?
- Find a local Psychiatrist in your town
What are causes and risk factors for anxiety?
While there is no single cause of GAD, women tend to develop this condition and most other anxiety disorders more often than men, and individuals with a family history of anxiety and depression are more at risk for having GAD. Younger adults are more likely to have GAD or social anxiety disorder compared to older adults. Other risk factors for developing social anxiety disorder include being of Native-American ethnicity and having a low income. Being of Asian, Hispanic, or black ethnicity, as well as residing in a more populated region, seems to reduce the risk of social anxiety disorder.
Inhibited temperament, parental anxiety, and having family and friends who somehow support avoidant coping mechanisms are risk factors for developing an anxiety disorder. Adolescents who smoke tobacco have been found to be at risk for developing anxiety. In children, girls, particularly those who begin puberty early, seem to be more likely to develop anxiety than their age peers of both genders.
Life stress, involving health problems and family disagreements, have been found to be associated with developing an anxiety disorder. Certain other life stresses put people at risk for developing anxiety as well. For example, in a study of African-American, Afro-Caribbean, and non-Hispanic white individuals, non-race-based discrimination was found to be a risk factor for developing anxiety in each of those groups while race-based discrimination was found to increase the likelihood of only the African-American people in developing anxiety.
Emotional Wellness
Get tips on therapy and treatment.


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Back | Next
Our part in the Grand Survey had taken us out beyond the great suns Alpha and Beta Crucis. From Earth we would have been in the constellation Lupus. But Earth was 278 light-years remote, Sol itself long dwindled to invisibility, and stars drew strange pictures across the dark.
After three years we were weary and had suffered losses. Oh, the wonder wasn't gone. How could it ever go—from world after world after world? But we had seen so many, and of those we had walked on, some were beautiful and some were terrible and most were both (even as Earth is) and none were alike and all were mysterious. They blurred together in our minds.
It was still a heart-speeding thing to find another sentient race, actually more than to find another planet colonizable by man. Now Ali Hamid had perished of a poisonous bite a year back, and Manuel Gonsalves had not yet recovered from the skull fracture inflicted by the club of an excited being at our last stop. This made Vaughn Webner our chief xenologist, from whom was to issue trouble.
Not that he, or any of us, wanted it. You learn to gang warily, in a universe not especially designed for you, or you die; there is no third choice. We approached this latest star because every G-type dwarf beckoned us. But we did not establish orbit around its most terrestroid attendant until neutrino analysis had verified that nobody in the system had developed atomic energy. And we exhausted every potentiality of our instruments before we sent down our first robot probe.
The sun was a G9, golden in hue, luminosity half of Sol's. The world which interested us was close enough in to get about the same irradiation as Earth. It was smaller, surface gravity 0.75, with a thinner and drier atmosphere. However, that air was perfectly breathable by humans, and bodies of water existed which could be called modest oceans. The globe was very lovely where it turned against star-crowded night, blue, tawny, rusty-brown, white-clouded. Two little moons skipped in escort.
Biological samples proved that its life was chemically similar to ours. None of the microorganisms we cultured posed any threat that normal precautions and medications could not handle. Pictures taken at low altitude and on the ground showed woods, lakes, wide plains rolling toward mountains. We were afire to set foot there.
But the natives—
You must remember how new the hyperdrive is, and how immense the cosmos. The organizers of the Grand Survey were too wise to believe that the few neighbor systems we'd learned something about gave knowledge adequate for devising doctrine. Our service had one law, which was its proud motto: "We come as friends." Otherwise each crew was free to work out its own procedures. After five years the survivors would meet and compare experiences.
For us aboard the Olga, Captain Gray had decided that, whenever possible, sophonts should not be disturbed by preliminary sightings of our machines. We would try to set the probes in uninhabited regions. When we ourselves landed, we would come openly. After all, the shape of a body counts for much less than the shape of the mind within. Thus went our belief.
Naturally, we took in every datum we could from orbit and upper-atmospheric overflights. While not extremely informative under such conditions, our pictures did reveal a few small towns on two continents—clusters of buildings, at least, lacking defensive walls or regular streets—hard by primitive mines. They seemed insignificant against immense and almost unpopulated landscapes. We guessed we could identify a variety of cultures, from Stone Age through Iron. Yet invariably, aside from those petty communities, settlements consisted of one or a few houses standing alone. We found none less than ten kilometers apart; most were more isolated.
"Carnivores, I expect," Webner said. "The primitive economies are hunting-fishing-gathering, the advanced economies pastoral. Large areas which look cultivated are probably just to provide fodder; they don't have the layout of proper farms." He tugged his chin. "I confess to being puzzled as to how the civilized—well, let's say the 'metallurgic' people, at this stage—how they manage it. You need trade, communication, quick exchange of ideas, for that level of technology. And if I read the pictures aright, roads are virtually nonexistent, a few dirt tracks between towns and mines, or to the occasional dock for barges or ships—Confound it, water transportation is insufficient."
"Pack animals, maybe?" I suggested.
"Too slow," he said. "You don't get progressive cultures when months must pass before the few individuals capable of originality can hear from each other. The chances are they never will."
For a moment the pedantry dropped from his manner. "Well," he said, "we'll see," which is the grandest sentence that any language can own.
We always made initial contact with three, the minimum who could do the job, lest we lose them. This time they were Webner, xenologist; Aram Turekian, pilot; and Yukiko Sachansky, gunner. It was Gray's idea to give women that last assignment. He felt they were better than men at watching and waiting, less likely to open fire in doubtful situations.
The site chosen was in the metallurgic domain, though not a town. Why complicate matters unnecessarily? It was on a rugged upland, thick forest for many kilometers around. Northward the mountainside rose steeply until, above timberline, its crags were crowned by a glacier. Southward it toppled to a great plateau, open country where herds grazed on a reddish analogue of grass or shrubs. Maybe they were domesticated, maybe not. In either case, probably the dwellers did a lot of hunting.
"Would that account for their being so scattered?" Yukiko wondered. "A big range needed to support each individual?"
"Then they must have a strong territoriality," Webner said. "Stand sharp by the guns."
We were not forbidden to defend ourselves from attack, whether or not blunders of ours had provoked it. Nevertheless the girl winced. Turekian glanced over his shoulder and saw. That, and Webner's tone, made him flush. "Blow down, Vaughn," he growled.
Webner's long, gaunt frame stiffened in his seat. Light gleamed off the scalp under his thin hair as he thrust his head toward the pilot. "What did you say?"
"Stay in your own shop and run it, if you can."
"Mind your manners. This may be my first time in charge, but I can—"
"On the ground. We're aloft yet."
"Please." Yukiko reached from her turret and laid a hand on either man's shoulder. "Please don't quarrel . . . when we're about to meet a whole new history."
They couldn't refuse her wish. Tool-burdened coverall or no, she remained in her Eurasian petiteness the most desired woman aboard the Olga; and still the rest of the girls liked her. Gonsalves' word for her was simp·tico.
The men only quieted on the surface. They were an ill-assorted pair, not enemies—you don't sign on a person who'll allow himself hatred—but unfriends. Webner was the academic type, professor of Xenology at the University of Oceania. In youth he'd done excellent field work, especially in the trade-route cultures of Cynthia, and he'd been satisfactory under his superiors. At heart, though, he was a theorist, whom middle age had made dogmatic.
Turekian was the opposite: young, burly, black-bearded, boisterous and roisterous, born in a sealtent on Mars to a life of banging around the available universe. If half his brags were true, he was mankind's boldest adventurer, toughest fighter, and mightiest lover; but I'd found to my profit that he wasn't the poker player he claimed. Withal he was able, affable, helpful, popular—which may have kindled envy in poor self-chilled Webner.
"Okay, sure," Turekian laughed. "For you, Yu." He tossed a kiss in her direction.
Webner unbent less easily. "What did you mean by running my own shop if I can?" he demanded.
"Nothing, nothing," the girl almost begged.
"Ah, a bit more than nothing," Turekian said. "A tiny bit. I just wish you were less convinced your science has the last word on all the possibilities. Things I've seen—"
"I've heard your song before," Webner scoffed. "In a jungle on some exotic world you met animals with wheels."
"Never said that. Hm-m-m . . . make a good yarn, wouldn't it?"
"No. Because it's an absurdity. Simply ask yourself how nourishment would pass from the axle bone to the cells of the disc. In like manner—"
"Yeh, yeh. Quiet, now, please. I've got to conn us down."
The target waxed fast in the bow screen. A booming of air came faint through the hull plates and vibration shivered flesh. Turekian hated dawdling. Besides, a slow descent might give the autochthons time to become hysterical, with perhaps tragic consequences.
Peering, the humans saw a house on the rim of a canyon at whose bottom a river rushed gray-green. The structure was stone, massive and tile-roofed. Three more buildings joined to define a flagged courtyard. Those were of timber, long and low, topped by blossoming sod. A corral outside the quadrangle held four-footed beasts, and nearby stood a row of what Turekian, pointing, called overgrown birdhouses. A meadow surrounded the ensemble. Elsewhere the woods crowded close.
There was abundant bird or, rather, ornithoid life, flocks strewn across the sky. A pair of especially large creatures hovered above the steading. They veered as the boat descended.
Abruptly, wings exploded from the house. Out of its windows flyers came, a score or better, all sizes from tiny ones which clung to adult backs, up to those which dwarfed the huge extinct condors of Earth. In a gleam of bronze feathers, a storm of wingbeats which pounded through the hull, they rose, and fled, and were lost among the treetops.
The humans landed in a place gone empty.
Hands near sidearms, Webner and Turekian trod forth, looked about, let the planet enter them.
You always undergo that shock of first encounter. Not only does space separate the newfound world from yours; time does, five billion years at least. Often you need minutes before you can truly see the shapes around, they are that alien. Before, the eye has registered them but not the brain.
This was more like home. Yet the strangenesses were uncountable.
Weight: three-fourths of what the ship maintained. An ease, a bounciness in the stride . . . and a subtle kinesthetic adjustment required, sensory more than muscular.
Air: like Earth's at about two kilometers' altitude. (Gravity gradient being less, the density dropoff above sea level went slower.) Crystalline vision, cool flow and murmur of breezes, soughing in the branches and river clangorous down in the canyon. Every odor different, no hint of sun-baked resin or duff, instead a medley of smokinesses and pungencies.
Light: warm gold, making colors richer and shadows deeper than you were really evolved for; a midmorning sun which displayed almost half again the apparent diameter of Earth's, in a sky which was deep blue and had only thin streaks of cloud.
Life: wild flocks, wheeling and crying high overhead; lowings and cacklings from the corral; rufous carpet underfoot, springy, suggestive more of moss than grass though not very much of either, starred with exquisite flowers; trees whose leaves were green (from silvery to murky), whose bark (if it was bark) might be black or gray or brown or white, whose forms were little more odd to you than were pine or gingko if you came from oak and beech country, but which were no trees of anywhere on Earth. A swarm of midgelike entomoids went by, and a big coppery-winged "moth" leisurely feeding on them.
Scenery: superb. Above the forest, peaks shouldered into heaven, the glacier shimmered blue. To the right, canyon walls plunged roseate, ocher-banded, and cragged. But your attention was directed ahead.
The house was of astonishing size. "A Sinking castle," Turekian exclaimed. An approximate twenty-meter cube, it rose sheer to the peaked roof, built from well-dressed blocks of granite. Windows indicated six stories. They were large openings, equipped with wooden shutters and wrought-iron balconies. The sole door, on ground level, was ponderous. Horns, skulls, and sculptured weapons of the chase—knife, spear, shortsword, blowgun, bow and arrow—ornamented the facade.
The attendant buildings were doubtless barns or sheds. Trophies hung on them too. The beasts in the corral looked, and probably weren't, mammalian. Two species were vaguely reminiscent of horses and oxen, a third of sheep. They were not many, could not be the whole support of the dwellers here. The "dovecotes" held ornithoids as big as turkeys, which were not penned but were prevented from leaving the area by three hawklike guardians. "Watchdogs," Turekian said of those. "No, watchfalcons." They swooped about, perturbed at the invasion.
Yukiko's voice came wistful from a receiver behind his ear: "Can I join you?"
"Stand by the guns," Webner answered. "We have yet to meet the owners of this place."
"Huh?" Turekian said. "Why, they're gone. Skedaddled when they saw us coming."
"Timid?" Yukiko asked. "That doesn't fit with their being eager hunters."
"On the contrary, I imagine they're pretty scrappy," Turekian said. "They jumped to the conclusion we must be hostile, because they wouldn't enter somebody else's land uninvited unless they felt that way. Our powers being unknown, and they having wives and kiddies to worry about, they prudently took off. I expect the fighting males—or whatever they've got—will be back soon."
"What are you talking about?" Webner inquired.
"Why, . . . the locals." Turekian blinked at him. "You saw them."
"Those giant ornithoids? Nonsense."
"Hoy? They came right out of the house there!"
"Domestic animals." Webner's hatchet features drew tight. "I don't deny we confront a puzzle here."
"We always do," Yukiko put in softly.
Webner nodded. "True. However, facts and logic solve puzzles. Let's not complicate our task with pseudoproblems. Whatever they are, the flyers we saw leave cannot be the sophonts. On a planet as Earthlike as this, aviform intelligence is impossible."
He straightened. "I suspect the inhabitants have barricaded themselves," he finished. "Well go closer and make pacific gestures."
"Which could be misunderstood," Turekian said dubiously. "An arrow or javelin can kill you just as dead as a blaster."
"Cover us, Yukiko," Webner ordered. "Follow me, Aram. If you have the nerve."
He stalked forward, under the eyes of the girl. Turekian cursed and joined him in haste.
They were near the door when a shadow fell over them. They whirled and stared upward. Yukiko's indrawn breath hissed from their receivers.
Aloft hovered one of the great ornithoids. Sunlight struck through its outermost pinions, turning them golden. Otherwise it showed stormcloud-dark. Down the wind stooped a second.
The sight was terrifying. Only later did the humans realize it was magnificent. Those wings spanned six meters. A muzzle full of sharp white fangs gaped before them. Two legs the length and well-nigh the thickness of a man's arms reached crooked talons between them. At their angles grew claws. In thrust after thrust, they hurled the creature at torpedo speed. Air whistled and thundered.
Their guns leaped into the men's hands. "Don't shoot!" Yukiko's cry came as if from very far away.
The splendid monster was almost upon them. Fire speared from Webner's weapon. At the same instant, the animal braked—a turning of quills, a crack and gust in their faces—and rushed back upward, two meters short of impact.
Turekian's gaze stamped a picture on his brain which he would study over and over and over. The unknown was feathered, surely warm-blooded, but no bird. A keelbone like a ship's prow jutted beneath a strong neck. The head was blunt-nosed, lacked external ears; fantastically, Turekian saw that the predator mouth had lips. Tongue and palate were purple. Two big golden eyes stabbed at him, burned at him. A crest of black-tipped white plumage rose stiffly above, a control surface and protection for the backward-bulging skull. The fan-shaped tail bore the same colors. The body was mahogany, the naked legs and claws yellow.
Webner's shot hit amidst the left-side quills. Smoke streamed after the flameburst. The creature uttered a high-pitched yell, lurched, and threshed in retreat. The damage wasn't permanent, had likely caused no pain, but now that wing was only half-useful.
Turekian thus had time to see three slits in parallel on the body. He had time to think there must be three more on the other side. They weirdly resembled gills. As the wings lifted, he saw them drawn wide, a triple yawn; as the downstroke began, he glimpsed them being forced shut.
Then he had cast himself against Webner. "Drop that, you clot-brain!" he yelled. He seized the xenologist's gun wrist. They wrestled. He forced the fingers apart. Meanwhile the wounded ornithoid struggled back to its companion. They flapped off.
"What're you doing?" Webner grabbed at Turekian.
The pilot pushed him away, brutally hard. He fell. Turekian snatched forth his magnifier.
Treetops cut off his view. He let the instrument drop. "Too late," he groaned. "Thanks to you."
Webner climbed erect, pale and shaken by rage. "Have you gone heisenberg?" he gasped. "I'm your commander!"
"You're maybe fit to command plastic ducks in a bathtub," Turekian said. "Firing on a native!"
Webner was too taken aback to reply.
"And you capped it by spoiling my chance for a good look at Number Two. I think I spotted a harness on him, holding what might be a weapon, but I'm not sure." Turekian spat.
"Aram, Vaughn," Yukiko pleaded from the boat.
An instant longer, the men bristled and glared. Then Webner drew breath, shrugged, and said in a crackly voice: "I suppose it's incumbent on me to put things on a reasonable basis, if you're incapable of that." He paused. "Behave yourself and I'll excuse your conduct as being due to excitement. Else I'll have to recommend you be relieved from further initial-contact duty."
"I be relieved—?" Turekian barely checked his fist, and kept it balled. His breath rasped.
"Hadn't you better check the house?" Yukiko asked.
The knowledge that something, anything, might lurk behind yonder walls restored them to a measure of coolness.
Save for livestock, the steading was deserted.
Rather than offend the dwellers by blasting down their barred door, the searchers went through a window on grav units. They found just one or two rooms on each story. Evidently the people valued ample floor space and high ceilings above privacy. Connection up and down was by circular staircases whose short steps seemed at variance with this. Decoration was austere and nonrepresentational. Furniture consisted mainly of benches and tables. Nothing like a bed or an o-futon was found. Did the indigenes sleep, if they did, sitting or standing? Quite possibly. Many species can lock the joints of their limbs at will.
Stored food bore out the idea of carnivorousness. Tools, weapons, utensils, fabrics were abundant, well made, neatly put away. They confirmed an Iron Age technology, more or less equivalent to that of Earth's Classical civilization. Exceptions occurred: for example, a few books, seemingly printed from hand-set type. How avidly those pages were ransacked! But the only illustrations were diagrams suitable to a geometry text in one case and a stonemason's manual in another. Did this culture taboo pictures of its members, or had the boat merely chanced on a home which possessed none?
The layout and contents of the house, and of the sheds when these were examined, gave scant clues. Nobody had expected better. Imagine yourself a nonhuman xenologist, visiting Earth before man went into space. What could you deduce from the residences and a few household items belonging to, say, a European, an Eskimo, a Congo pygmy, and a Japanese peasant? You might have wondered if the owners were of the same genus.
In time you could learn more. Turekian doubted that time would be given. He set Webner in a cold fury by his nagging to finish the survey and get back to the boat At length the chief gave in. "Not that I don't plan a detailed study, mind you," he said. Scornfully: "Still, I suppose we can hold a conference, and I'll try to calm your fears."
After you had been out, the air in the craft smelled dead and the view in the screens looked dull. Turekian took a pipe from his pocket. "No," Webner told him.
"What?" The pilot was bemused.
"I won't have that foul thing in this crowded cabin."
"I don't mind," Yukiko said.
"I do," Webner replied, "and while we're down, I'm your captain."
Turekian reddened and obeyed. Discipline in space is steel hard, a matter of survival. A good leader gives it a soft sheath. Yukiko's eyes reproached Webner; her fingers dropped to rest on the pilot's arm. The xenologist saw. His mouth twitched sideways before he pinched it together.
"We're in trouble," Turekian said. "The sooner we haul mass out of here, the happier our insurance carriers will be."
"Nonsense," Webner snapped. "If anything, our problem is that we've terrified the dwellers. They may take days to send even a scout."
"They've already sent two. You had to shoot at them."
"I shot at a dangerous animal. Didn't you see those talons, those fangs? And a buffet from a wing that big—ignoring the claws on it—could break your neck."
Webner's gaze sought Yukiko's. He mainly addressed her: "Granted, they must be domesticated. I suspect they're used in the hunt, flown at game like hawks though working in packs like hounds. Conceivably the pair we encountered were, ah, sicced onto us from afar. But that they themselves are sophonts—out of the question."
Her murmur was uneven. "How can you be sure?"
Webner leaned back, bridged his fingers, and grew calmer while he lectured: "You realize the basic principle. All organisms make biological sense in their particular environments, or they become extinct. Reasoners are no exception—and are, furthermore, descended from nonreasoners which adapted to environments that had never been artificially modified.
"On nonterrestroid worlds, they can be quite outrÈ by our standards, since they developed under unearthly conditions. On an essentially terrestroid planet, evolution basically parallels our own because it must. True, you get considerable variation. Like, say, hexapodal vertebrates liberating the forelimbs to grow hands and becoming centauroids, as on Woden. That's because the ancestral chordates were hexapods. On this world, you can see for yourself the higher animals are four-limbed.
"A brain capable of designing artifacts such as we observe here is useless without some equivalent of hands. Nature would never produce it. Therefore the inhabitants are bound to be bipeds, however different from us in detail. A foot which must double as a hand, and vice versa, would be too grossly inefficient in either function. Natural selection would weed out any mutants of that tendency, fast, long before intelligence could evolve.
"What do those ornithoids have in the way of hands?" He smiled his tight little smile.
"The claws on their wings?" Yukiko asked shyly.
"'Fraid not," Turekian said. "I got a fair look. They can grasp, sort of, but aren't built for manipulation."
"You saw how the fledgling uses them to cling to the parent," Webner stated. "Perhaps it climbs trees also. Earth has a bird with similar structures, the hoactzin. It loses them in adulthood. Here they may become extra weapons for the mature animal."
"The feet." Turekian scowled. "Two opposable digits flanking three straight ones. Could serve as hands."
"Then how does the creature get about on the ground?" Webner retorted. "Can't forge a tool in midair, you know, let alone dig ore and erect stone houses."
He wagged a finger. "Another, more fundamental point," he went on. "Flyers are too limited in mass. True, the gravity's weaker than on Earth, but air pressure's lower. Thus admissible wing loadings are about the same. The biggest birds that ever lumbered into Terrestrial skies weighed some fifteen kilos. Nothing larger could get aloft. Metabolism simply can't supply the power required. We established aboard ship, from specimens, that local biochemistry is close kin to our type. Hence it is not possible for those ornithoids to outweigh a maximal vulture. They're big, yes, and formidable. Nevertheless, that size has to be mostly feathers, hollow bones—spidery, kitelike skeletons anchoring thin flesh.
"Aram, you hefted several items today, such as a stone pot. Or consider one of the buckets, presumably used to bring water up from the river. What would you say the greatest weight is?"
Turekian scratched in his beard. "Maybe twenty kilos," he answered reluctantly.
"There! No flyer could lift that. It was always superstition about eagles stealing lambs or babies. They weren't able to. The ornithoids are similarly handicapped. Who'd make utensils he can't carry?"
"M-m-m," Turekian growled rather than hummed. Webner pressed the attack:
"The mass of any flyer on a terrestroid planet is insufficient to include a big enough brain for true intelligence. The purely animal functions require virtually all those cells. Birds have at least lightened their burden, permitting a little more brain, by changing jaws to beaks. So have those ornithoids you called 'watchfalcons.' The big fellows have not."
He hesitated. "In fact," he said slowly, "I doubt if they can even be considered bright animals. They're likely stupid . . . and vicious. If we're set on again, we need have no compunctions about destroying them."
"Were you going to?" Yukiko whispered. "Couldn't he, she, it simply have been coming down for a quick, close look at you—unarmed as a peace gesture?"
"If intelligent, yes," Webner said. "If not, as I've proven to be the case, positively no. I saved us some nasty wounds. Perhaps I saved a life."
"The dwellers might object if we shoot at their property," Turekian said.
"They need only call off their, ah, dogs. In fact, the attack on us may not have been commanded, may have been brute reaction after panic broke the order of the pack." Webner rose. "Are you satisfied? We'll make thorough studies till nightfall, then leave gifts, withdraw, hope for a better reception when we see the indigenes have returned." A television pickup was customary among diplomatic presents of that kind.
Turekian shook his head. "Your logic's all right, I suppose. But it don't smell right somehow."
Webner started for the airlock.
"Me too?" Yukiko requested. "Please?"
"No," Turekian said. "I'd hate for you to be harmed."
"We're in no danger," she argued. "Our sidearms can handle any flyers that may arrive feeling mean. If we plant sensors around, no walking native can come within bowshot before we know. I feel caged." She aimed her smile at Webner.
The xenologist thawed. "Why not?" he said. "I can use a levelheaded assistant." To Turekian: "Man the boat guns yourself if you wish."
"Like blazes," the pilot grumbled, and followed them.
He had to admit the leader knew his business. The former cursory search became a shrewd, efficient examination of object after object, measuring, photographing, commenting continuously into a mini-recorder. Yukiko helped. On Survey, everybody must have some knowledge of everybody else's specialty. But Webner needed just one extra person.
"What can I do?" Turekian asked.
"Move an occasional heavy load," the other man said. "Keep watch on the forest. Stay out of my way."
Yukiko was too fascinated by the work to chide him. Turekian rumbled in his throat, stuffed his pipe, and slouched around the grounds alone, blowing furious clouds.
At the corral he gripped a rail and glowered. "You want feeding," he decided, went into a barn—unlike the house, its door was not secured—and found a haymow and pitchforks which, despite every strangeness of detail, reminded him of a backwoods colony on Hermes that he'd visited once, temporarily primitive because shipping space was taken by items more urgent than modern agromachines. The farmer had had a daughter. . . . He consoled himself with memories while he took out a mess of cinnamon-scented red herbage.
Webner leaned from an upstairs window. "What're you about?" he called.
"Those critters are hungry," Turekian replied. "Listen to 'em."
"How do you know what their requirements are? Or the owners'? We're not here to play God, for your information. We're here to learn and, maybe, help. Take that stuff back where you got it."
Turekian swallowed rage—that Yukiko should have heard his humiliation—and complied. Webner was his captain till he regained the blessed sky.
Sky . . . birds. . . . He observed the "cotes." The pseudohawks fluttered about, indignant but too small to tackle him. Were the giant ornithoids kept partly as protection against large ground predators? Turekian studied the flock. Its members dozed, waddled, scratched the dirt, fat and placid, obviously long bred to tameness. Both types lacked the gill-like slits he had noticed. . . .
A shadow. Turekian glanced aloft, snatched for his magnifier. Half a dozen giants were back. The noon sun flamed on their feathers. They were too high for him to see details.
He flipped the controls on his grav unit and made for the house. Webner and Yukiko were on the fifth floor. Turekian arced through a window. He had no eye, now, for the Spartan grace of the room. "They've arrived," he panted. "We better get in the boat quick."
Webner stepped onto the balcony. "No need," he said. "I hardly think they'll attack. If they do, we're safer here than crossing the yard."
"Might be smart to close the shutters," the girl said.
"And the door to this chamber," Webner agreed. "That'll stop them. They'll soon lose patience and wander off—if they attempt anything. Or if they do besiege us, we can shoot our way through them, or at worst relay a call for help via the boat, once Olga's again over our horizon."
He had re-entered. Turekian took his place on the balcony and squinted upward. More winged shapes had joined the first several; and more came into view each second. They dipped, soared, circled through the wind, which made surf noises in the forest.
Unease crawled along the pilot's spine. "I don't like this half a bit," he said. "They don't act like plain beasts."
"Conceivably the dwellers plan to use them in an assault," Webner said. "If so, we may have to teach the dwellers about the cost of unreasoning hostility." His tone was less cool than the words, and sweat beaded his countenance.
Sparks in the magnifier field hurt Turekian's eyes. "I swear they're carrying metal," he said. "Listen, if they are intelligent—and out to get us, after you nearly killed one of 'em—the house is no place for us. Let's scramble. We may not have many more minutes."
"Yes, I believe we'd better, Vaughn," Yukiko urged. "We can't risk . . . being forced to burn down conscious beings . . . on their own land."
Maybe his irritation with the pilot spoke for Webner: "How often must I explain there is no such risk, yet? Instead, here's a chance to learn. What happens next could give us invaluable clues to understanding the whole ethos. We stay." To Turekian: "Forget about that alleged metal. Could be protective collars, I suppose. But take the supercharger off your imagination."
The other man froze where he stood.
"Aram." Yukiko seized his arm. He stared beyond her. "What's wrong?"
He shook himself. "Supercharger," he mumbled. "By God, yes."
Abruptly, in a bellow: "We're leaving! This second! They are the dwellers, and they've gathered the whole countryside against us!"
"Hold your tongue," Webner said, "or I'll charge insubordination."
Laughter rattled in Turekian's breast. "Uh-uh. Mutiny,"
He crouched and lunged. His fist rocketed before him. Yukiko's cry joined the thick smack as knuckles hit—not the chin, which is too hazardous, the solar plexus. Air whoofed from Webner. His eyes glazed. He folded over, partly conscious but unable to stand while his diaphragm spasmed. Turekian gathered him in his arms. "To the boat!" the pilot shouted. "Hurry, girl!"
His grav unit wouldn't carry two, simply gentled his fall when he leaped from the balcony. He dared not stop to adjust the controls on Webner's. Bearing his chief, he pounded across the flagstones. Yukiko came above. "Go ahead!" Turekian bawled. "Get into shelter, for God's sake!"
"Not till you can," she answered. "I'll cover you." He was helpless to prevent her.
The scores above had formed themselves into a vast revolving wheel. It tilted. The first flyers peeled off and roared downward. The rest came after.
Arrows whistled ahead of them. A trumpet sounded. Turekian dodged, zigzag over the meadow. Yukiko's gun clapped. She shot to miss, but belike the flashes put those archers—and, now, spearthrowers—off their aim. Shafts sang wickedly around. One edge grazed Webner's neck. He screamed.
Yukiko darted to open the boat's airlock. While she did, Turekian dropped Webner and straddled him, blaster drawn. The leading flyer hurtled close. Talons of the right foot, which was not a foot at all but a hand, gripped a sword curved like a scimitar. For an instant, Turekian looked squarely into the golden eyes, knew a brave male defending his home, and also shot to miss.
In a brawl of air, the native sheered off. The valve swung wide. Yukiko flitted through. Turekian dragged Webner, then stood in the lock chamber till the entry was shut.
Missiles clanged on the hull. None would pierce. Turekian let himself join Webner for a moment of shuddering in each other's embrace, before he went forward to Yukiko and the raising of his vessel.
When you know what to expect, a little, you can lay plans. We next sought the folk of Ythri, as the planet is called by its most advanced culture, a thousand kilometers from the triumph which surely prevailed in the mountains. Approached with patience, caution, and symbolisms appropriate to their psyches, they welcomed us rapturously. Before we left, they'd thought of sufficient inducements to trade that I'm sure they'll have spacecraft of their own in a few generations.
Still, they are as fundamentally territorial as man is fundamentally sexual, and we'd better bear that in mind.
The reason lies in their evolution. It does for every drive in every animal everywhere. The Ythrian is carnivorous, aside from various sweet fruits. Carnivores require larger regions per individual than herbivores or omnivores do, in spite of the fact that meat has more calories per kilo than most vegetable matter. Consider how each antelope needs a certain amount of space, and how many antelope are needed to maintain a pride of lions. Xenologists have written thousands of papers on the correlations between diet and genotypical personality in sophonts.
I have my doubts about the value of those papers. At least, they missed the possibility of a race like the Ythrians, whose extreme territoriality and individualism—with the consequences to governments, mores, arts, faiths, and souls—come from the extreme appetite of the body.
They mass as high as thirty kilos; yet they can lift an equal weight into the air or, unhampered, fly like demons. Hence they maintain civilization without the need to crowd together in cities. Their townspeople are mostly wing-clipped criminals and slaves. Today their wiser heads hope robots will end the need for that.
Hands? The original talons, modified for manipulating. Feet? Those claws on the wings, a juvenile feature which persisted and developed, just as man's large head and sparse hair derive from the juvenile or fetal ape. The forepart of the wing skeleton consists of humerus, radius, and ulnar, much as in true birds. These lock together in flight. Aground, when the wing is folded downward, they produce a "knee" joint. Bones grow from their base to make the claw-foot. Three fused digits, immensely lengthened, sweep backward to be the alatan which braces the rest of that tremendous wing and can, when desired, give additional support on the surface. To rise, the Ythrians usually do a handstand during the initial upstroke. It takes less than a second.
Oh, yes, they are slow and awkward afoot. They manage, though. Big and beweaponed, instantly ready to mount the wind, they need fear no beast of prey.
You ask where the power comes from to swing this hugeness through the sky. The oxidation of food, what else? Hence the demand of each household for a great hunting or ranching demesne. The limiting factor is the oxygen supply. A molecule in the blood can carry more than hemoglobin does, but the gas must be furnished. Turekian first realized how that happens. The Ythrian has lungs, a passive system resembling ours. In addition he has his supercharger, evolved from the gills of an amphibianlike ancestor. Worked in bellows fashion by the flight muscles, connecting directly with the bloodstream, those air-intake organs let him burn his fuel as fast as necessary.
I wonder how it feels to be so alive.
I remember how Yukiko Sachansky stood in the curve of Aram Turekian's arm, under a dawn heaven, and watched the farewell dance the Ythrians gave for us, and cried through tears: "To fly like that! To fly like that!"
Back | Next


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Wisconsin environmental officials are urging people to cut down on their holiday waste.
The federal government estimates the volume of household waste jumps 25 percent between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day as families dispose of gift wrap, decorations, packaging, disposable plates and leftover food.
Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources waste reduction ...


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in Fruit & veg
For her birthday in the spring I bought my aged ma a blueberry bush. It's about 2 - 3' tall, with about 5 main stems, in a pot (too small for it) of ericaceous compost. It's produced a little fruit. Last week it lost all its leaves and is looking a bit sorry for itself. Is this likely to be early autumnal leaf fall or is something wrong? She's been watering it assiduously all summer - possibly too much at times?
Any ideas? Apart from potting it on, how do I prune it?
Leaf Drop is always caused by stress of some kind.
Usually by Under/Over watering. My blueberry bush is still in full leaf.
Apparently the leaves started to go brown shortly after that very wet week we had, so I suspect over-watering - not sure the pot is too well drained....but don't they like wet soil?? It's in a very sunny spot.
Drainage issues kill a lot of plants, learned this mistake. I always make sure theres a good size hole at the bottom of the pot, and I only put 1 crock over this hole.
This stops a build up of soil around the hole and means the water can drain away easily.
Yes. When I repot it I'll do that.
Have a feeling it's UNDER watering Steve.
I will prune during winter......I tip shoots,remove weak shoots and dead stuff. Every winter I try to keep plants compact by spurring side branches.
I did read that you should only water blueberries with rain water e.g. from a but, not from the tap
Yes - Mum knows that. It's cos (hard) tap water is alkaline and blueberries need acidic conditions. Could well be underwatering too - or more likely, inconsistent watering. A much bigger pot will help this too I s'pose.
Bluebs don't like tap water. Get her to try giving them rainwater
She is. Do keep up.
Actually since it now has nary a leaf it won't need watering till spring anyway.
Hi Steve If your Mothers Blueberry leaves turned red and orange and fell off that would suggest early autumnal fall, if the leaves went limp on the plant and then fell off suggests too dry, leaves dropping as you describe can suggest it is too wet, Blueberries like it moist not wet
When repoting check that there is no vine weevil grubs in the soil they will be smaller at this time of year and get them out before they do serious damagealso check for root rot which some times can get mixed up with vineweevil damage and is caused by overwatering and can be lethal
As for the fruit although the plant could be self fertile it is always better to have a different variety next to it for pollination, you will find you will get a bigger crop
As for pruning, use the RHS website on pruning Blueberries
My blueberry in a pot had done really well this year, gave 3 kg of fruit, and looks very healthy. I have, dare I say it, watered it with tap water, but have fed it regularly with ericaceous feed. It needs some pruning, so will look at the RHS site. Thanks Buddyboy.
Hope your Mum's blueberry bush gets better, Steve.
Thanks, Buddyboy - I'll try this when I get back there next week, and thanks for the good wishes Snowy.
Agree with Verdun. I think it more likely too dry soil.
I had one shuffle off it's mortal coil in that way Steve. It was one of about 10 all in the same sized large pots and treated the same. It turned out to be root rot and caused by a clump of ericaceous compost in the mix which was preventing good drainage (I later discovered this when I tipped-out the pot looking for vine-weevil.)
I'll do that next week and have a good ferret around underneath. The remaining stems are green (some of them ripening to brown), flexible and look healthy.
Regular pruning is important if only to keep shoots compact and fruit inclined
Yeah, sorry, I clearly misread your post


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Crowne Plaza Hotel & Conference Center is excited to continue their second year of the Loyalty Give Back Program. A percentage of every paid room night reserved under the Crouse Hospital preferred rate will be donated back to Crouse Health Foundation. Guests will enjoy newly renovated guestrooms, complimentary covered parking, wireless internet, and shuttle service. Please be sure to mention Crouse when making your reservations by calling 315/479-7000 or toll-free in the US and Canada 866/305-4134.
For more information about the Crouse Health Foundation, please contact Phyllis Devlin at the Foundation office at 315/470-7008.
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Your donation of any amount helps support Crouse services & programs in a meaningful way.more >
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14th annual golf tournament on July 20 benefitted Crouse NICU.
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Annual auto event proceeds benefitted Crouse Neurosciences Institute.more >
Foundations for the Future
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Solutions for Deforestation-Free Wood Products (2012)
Wood from tropical forests is used to create products in our everyday lives, including furniture, paper, and kitchen cabinets. But while wood is a renewable resource, many logging activities in the tropics are done without regard to the forest ecosystem. Over time this can limit the forests' ability to regrow, leading to reduced biodiversity and increased global warming pollution.
Logging activity can also pave the way for increased deforestation as logging trucks create in-roads that allow access for agricultural development, especially the production of vegetable oils and beef, two primary drivers of tropical deforestation.
Wood can be sustainably produced, however, if it comes from well-managed forest, including plantations grown on previously cleared land. Certification programs such as the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) can help consumers and businesses identify wood grown in a sustainable manner—and offer the best available option to protect our world's forests for generations to come.
Wood for Good: Solutions for Deforestation-Free Wood Products looks at how smart choices by consumers, businesses, and policy makers can help reduce the impacts of wood production on deforestation and reviews the economics and environmental impacts of the global wood industry.
Wood exports from the tropics are increasing and are part of our everyday lives.
- The international wood product trade has rapidly expanded in recent decades. From 1985 to 2005, international trade of forest products increased from $60 billion to $257 billion; by 2020, it is expected to reach around $450 billion. In 2009, tropical forests accounted for 8 to 20 percent of global production in the major wood product sectors.
- In 2009, the average North American consumed more than 500 pounds of paper products—equivalent to approximately 100 reams of letter-sized copy paper, and more than five times the global average. As much as 42 percent of the worldwide timber harvested for industrial purposes is used to make paper products, including wood from tropical forests. Brazil and Indonesia are the sixth and eighth top producers, respectively, of wood pulp for paper.
- Of the 15 major exporters of furniture, six are now in tropical developing countries: Brazil, Indonesia, Malaysia, Mexico, Thailand, and China.
Tropical logging has significant impacts.
- Trees absorb and store carbon as they grow, and clearing forests causes the carbon to be released back into the atmosphere. Tropical deforestation is responsible for about 10 percent of global warming emissions worldwide.
- When primary forests are cleared for conversion to pulp and paper plantations, it leads to a loss of biodiversity and an increase in carbon emissions because plantations rarely accumulate as much biomass or provide the same habitat as the natural forest they replaced.
- Tropical logging is also often done illegally, depressing world timber prices by 16 percent and negatively affecting legitimate wood producers.
Wood can be sustainably produced if it comes from well-managed forests, including plantations grown on previously cleared land.
- Plantation forests are a good solution for growing wood as they can provide a higher yield per acre than natural forests, but are only sustainable if they are established on previously disturbed lands, rather than replacing primary (virgin) forests.
- Governments can make these sustainable approaches more attractive for businesses and local communities, and support their implementation, by improving land tenure systems and placing a value on ecosystem services such as protection against soil erosion and air and water purification.
Consumers, businesses, and governments can all support sustainable forest management
- Certification programs, most notably the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) and the Programme for the Endorsement of Forest Certification, promote sustainable wood production globally. While these certifications do not definitively prohibit logging from primary forests, they are the best available option for ensuing that wood production does not come at the expense of forest ecosystems.
- Consumers, retailers, and producers should demand certified wood for their products, even for lower-end items.
- Governments and policy makers need to change forest production policies, promote certification programs, generate markets for sustainably produced wood, and promote legal production systems.
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jGuru Forums
Posted By:
Posted On:
Thursday, June 6, 2002 04:45 AM
Is Lucene thread safe in the following cases:
1. Two threads are writing to the same index - write.lock should take care of locking the index, i guess.
2. One thread is searching(or reading) the index while another thread is writing to it. - What happens in this case?
3. Two threads are searching the same index - IndexSearcher is thread-safe, right?
I am more interested in knowing what happens in case 2 above.
Re: <p>How 'thread-safe' is Lucene?
Posted By:
Posted On:
Thursday, June 6, 2002 08:21 PM


text:
Upcoming Events
CAAS' panel discussion "A Day in the Life: Litigators" October 7
Join CAAS' panel discussion "A Day in the Life: Litigators" and learn
about what it takes to be a litigator. The program will be held on Wednesday, October 7, 2009, from 5:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m. in Room 225. Attorneys who work as litigators in a variety of practice areas and
settings will share their experiences. Panelists will describe their
career paths, the type of work they do on a daily basis, the types of
clients they represent, and how students can best prepare for a career
as a litigator.
Please RSVP in Symplicity. Click on the "Events" tab, then click on "Day in the Life: Litigators" and then click on the "RSVP" button. Pizza will be provided. Please contact CAAS at firstname.lastname@example.com <mailto:email@example.com> with any questions.


text:
The philosophy that guides My Gym's programming and breakdown for classes has been developed through intensive physiological, psychological and sociological research, along with decades of hands-on experience by hundreds of My Gym child and fitness experts.
Our carefully constructed programs are constantly analyzed and adjusted according to up-to-the-minute advances in medical and psychological research. My Gym's main objectives are to ensure that program ingredients are safe, age-appropriate and optimal for building self-esteem.
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If you or a member of your family have undergone treatment for a head and neck cancer, stroke or other neurological condition, or a traumatic head or neck injury, you'll want to learn more about the swallowing condition known as dysphagia.
Learn from Saint Anne's Hospital speech-language pathologists Jill Valadao and Kristi Pickering about the mechanics of normal swallowing, the causes and risk factors for dysphagia, and the diagnostic procedures and treatment options that are available.
This free program is open to the general public and is part of Saint Anne's Hospital Rehabilitation Services' ongoing community education series.
This program will be presented in the Nannery Conference Room in Clemence Hall, opposite Saint Anne's Hospital Medical Office Building. Free parking is available opposite Clemence Hall in the medical office building lot, with access from Osborn Street
To reserve your seat, please pre-register by calling Saint Anne's Hospital Rehabilitation Services, 508-646-9470.


text:
Montreal's miracle run continues
For just the second time in their 100-year history, the Montreal Canadiens have won back-to-back seven-game series in the same playoffs, and the first time they did it – you know where this is going – they won the Stanley Cup.
While the current edition of the Habs is hard to compare to the 1971 team, it would be foolish to bet against them to repeat that squad's exploits; after disposing of the regular-season champions in Round 1, they stifled and muzzled the reigning Cup champion Pittsburgh Penguins, prevailing 5-2 in Game 7.
The underdog tag can now safely be removed. And with Vancouver's elimination, the "Canada's team" sticker can be applied, if it wasn't already in the minds of many fans.
"We played Washington, we were supposed to get killed, we played these guys, we were supposed to get killed, it's just nice to be part of a team that gets it done," said defenceman Hal Gill , a key cog in defeating his former squad.
As they await either the Philadelphia Flyers or the Boston Bruins, the Habs aren't about to admit to feeling satisfied – as Gill said: "It doesn't mean anything if you don't win the whole thing … it's all about the big one."
Which is not to say they aren't buoyed after becoming just the fifth team in NHL history to win two seventh games on the road in the same playoff year.
"We knew what we had in this room," said centre Scott Gomez , adding: "We're not shocked, it's just beginning."
The capper was a thrilling 5-2 Game 7 victory in which they showed the defensive acuity that is becoming their hallmark, but also managed to play attacking hockey and hold the Penguins at arm's length.
Michael Cammalleri scored his league-leading 12th playoff goal on a sublime one-timer, joining Habs immortals Guy Lafleur, Maurice Richard and Jean Béliveau in the record books. Newsy Lalonde's franchise record of 17 looms.


text:
As promised, here are my notes from the lightning talk I gave yesterday at the Digital Humanities Symposium at UCLA. I spoke on my Litmap project, which is a Google Maps mash-up I've put together for the purpose of mapping the books that I'm writing on in my dissertation. As you can see, it's a very simple idea, and not much different from what other projects such as Gutenkarte have already done (and without the Metacarta-powered geotagging). Still, I have found it to be a valuable little side-project in doing my close reading of literature, and perhaps it will have some use for others too. I'll be adding some more functionality over the next few weeks and giving a longer presentation on the project at that THATCamp at the end of the month.
Without further ado, here are my notes:
- Recently I've been doing a lot of thinking about the definition of the Digital Humanities in terms of theory/praxis issues. I see the Litmap project as being the "praxis" component that exists together with the theoretical part of my research: in other words, it is not a standalone component, but rather something than needs to be understood within the larger context of my dissertation project.
- Litmap is a tool I've created to help and enable me to read and theorize literature.
- Ideally, Litmap helps to illuminate the text, to create new knowledge about the kind of spatiality that is at work in the text on a narrative level.
- Litmap is not a distance reading tool (à la Franco Moretti)
- Litmap is meant to be used in conjunction with the primary text at hand, then.
- Unfortunately, Litmap does not count as work towards degree!
Moving to the Show & Tell portion of the presentation (below is an approximate screenshot of what I demo'ed while I spoke from the notes pasted below it):
- The example I'm showing is a map of The Rings of Saturn [Die Ringe des Saturn], a novel by W.G. Sebald.
- In the right-hand column, I've listed the "lexia" in which place names are mentioned in the book. These places are then plotted on the map on the left.
- The narrative of The Rings of Saturn is structured around the 1st-person narrator's retelling of his walking tour of an approximately 30-mile stretch of eastern English coastline (in Suffolk). This journey is mapped in red on the map. As you can see, it has an vaguely figure-8 shape.
- As the narrator retraces his path, he tells stories of places that are spatially/geographically removed from the local area of his walking tour. This creates a narrative network of places that becomes increasingly global in scope:
At this point I zoomed out on Litmap to show approximately what you see in the screenshot below:
- Here we have a visual illustration of place that conceives of local place (i.e., Suffolk) as having a global history.
- My argument (which I of course explain in much greater detail in my dissertation) is that in The Rings of Saturn, Sebald illustrates a spatialized view of history that sees the local as globally defined (and here I draw on the work of Henri Lefevbre, Doreen Massey and other thinkers on space and place).
- (Incidentally, the orange lines on the map denote the trajectory of Joseph Conrad's life, which is described in Chapter V of The Rings of Saturn. More colors, icons, etc. on the map in general coming down the pipeline soon. Plans for more fine-grained data visualization have been brewing with the help of data visualization guru friend @noahi, and the mysql database in the background is ready to support it…)
What Litmap helps with:
- Visualizing connections.
- Identifying how many place names are geographically specific in a given text (and there are many in The Rings of Saturn!)
- Mapping various texts throws the geographical/spatial specificities of each into relief. (This will become much clearer when I've completed the mapping of the 2nd book, which is in progress. The differences are pretty remarkable).
Challenges and limitations:
- In The Rings of Saturn, Sebald has a "cosmological" notion of historical space in addition the local and global one. It is not possible to map this cosmological notion of space using the Google Maps API!
- Using the Google Maps API (or similar) restricts the user to that vision/version of geographical space. When you're working with that data, be aware that you're working with those pre-provided layers of information, which have their own inherent assumptions built in.
The End.


text:
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- Compatible with Chrome, Firefox, Safari, Opera, IE9+
- SVG Shape for Icon Background
- Color Switcher ‐ Maleo 1.1
- Box and Full Width Frame ‐ Maleo 1.1
- Pattern Background for Box Frame ‐ Maleo 1.1
- Use CSS Preprocessor SASS – Style.scss and Sample Color Theme Included ‐ Maleo 1.1
- Sticky Menu on Fullwidth and Box Width Frame ‐ Maleo 1.2
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ChangelogVersion 1.3 – Maret 24, 2015
- WooCommerce Support - WPML Support
Version 1.2.1 – January 11, 2015
- Update to new version of Jquery Revolution Slider - Improvement on Sticky Menu - Fix Bug on Safari Mac BrowserVersion 1.2 – September 18, 2014
- Add Sticky Menu - Fix Bug Fullscreen Video on VimeoVersion 1.1 – August 22, 2014
- Color Switcher - Box Frame layout - Add Pattern background for Box Frame - SASS Color Theme Included - SASS Style.scss included - Fixed Bug <header> when Preload PageVersion 1.0 – July 24, 2014
- Initial Release


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MARCA's school-age basketball team suffered a 50-38 loss to the Richland County Bears on Saturday.
No statistics were available from that contest.
The MARCA JV I team won two games recently while the JV II team won one game.
The JV I squad beat Crawford County 72-61. Chris Emans led the Hawks with 25 points, Ron Denney scored 22, Donnell Willie netted 12, Mike Snyder scored eight, Josh Fay had four and David Masur hit for two.
The JV I team also downed the Seneca County Arrows 51-49 as Denney scored 24, Snyder had eight, Willie scored six, Craig Seiter canned five, and Masur and Fay each had four.
The JV I Hawks play at 6:30 p.m. Thursday against Ottawa County at Oak Harbor.
The JV II team bested the Seneca County Arrows 38-10 in Tiffin. Tyler Alexander paced the Hawks with eight points, John Messenger and David Arnold each tallied six. Cora Layne, Kody Clark, Patty Brown and Scott Bobenhausen each had four, and Daniel Shumate, Joe Hopkins and Roy James each tallied two.