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The City SkylineMature
Gabe wondered about what kind of sermon he'd concoct today. His slim body loomed over the sink as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, thoughts lingering inside of his head. His skinny fingers caressed his short hair, and small muscles flexed as he bent his arm. He was thin, but his body was strong. Stronger still were his convictions. Gabe's eyes stared beyond himself, in search of something more. Currently, his mental state was a shipwreck, and his thoughts were flotsam, drifting around aimlessly; he tried to piece it together, to create something cohesive.
A fiend is merely one with an addiction/ One who has an aspect of their life missin'
He felt good about that line; he wanted to expand on it. His brain grew excited of his thoughts, which were coming together to create something. What else could he use for his sermon? A quick look around only gave him overused settings. The pale, dilapidated yellow walls of his bathroom were in a sad condition; he could peel off all the paint with a scrape of his fingernail. It was depressing and empty, like the rest of his apartment. Grime-encrusted pipes contaminated the tap water he had just washed his face with, and the smog of the city skyline cast a pale light into the cramped bathroom that made his reflection seem ghostly. The smell of poverty, of the ghetto hung in the air, a daunting presence that hung over even the high-rise apartments in the area. It pervaded everything, every single secondhand item they owned. He began to piece things together,
Drugs don't love anybody.
His mind darted back to the incident a couple years ago. He had walked home the grocery store, and saw his neighbor sprawled on the cold concrete. Old man Johnson. He gave him candy as a kid. Here, he was on the ground, gravel in the grey whiskers on his chin. Next to him was a broken syringe, its silver needle gleaming in the moonlight. Gabriel's mind was a fluster, and he was at a loss for what to do. Here was a role model of his, his beaming moon of a face greeting him as he stepped out of his apartment door to go to school, now down on street. He was supposed to be infallible, but now he was on the ground, his eyes convulsing, rolling into his skull.
So why do you put them in your body?/ The rejection of vices in your veins/ Only devices that cause mental strains/And all-
"Gabe! Get down here now, breakfast is getting cold!"
The thoughts were wrested away from him as he ran out of the bathroom. His father had his back turned to him, his strong hands finishing preparing their meager breakfasts. Three dingy plates were seated on the rickety table, and Gabe took his seat while he watched his father. His name is Jordan.
"Where's your brother?" Jordan said amidst the crackling of the frying pan.
"I think he got back late last night."
"Well, get him up, this is breakfast for the family."
dad you know it's a pain in the butt to try to get him up."
"There are worse things in life, Gabe. Now go." Gabe's father waved his muscular arm in the air, and Gabe walked over to his brother's room.
Gabe approached his brother's door with trepidation. The faint smell of sweat hung in a cloud over his head. Gently, so as not to cause noise, he opened the door.
"Mike, Mike. Wake up, it's time for breakfast."
"Gabe man, come over here, little bro, come here," Mike said drowsily, his voice piercing the gloom of the room. The curtains were drawn, and everything was entrenched in shadows.
God, not this again…"
Gabe's mind once again found itself preoccupied with that particular night. Why was it today that it kept striking his memory?
Old man Johnson had creaked his head up, with glassy eyes he stared at Gabe. In the pale moonlight, he looked like a monster that had risen furtively from the blacktop, his malicious intentions directed at Gabe. A frail hand then reached out towards Gabe's, and a weak groan of a voice slipped out of his mouth.
"Gabe, Gabe, c'mere c'mon."
Gabe was still young back then, a mere ten years old. His small knees began to tremble.
"C'mon man just come here. Look where you goin'? Can you spare some change Gabe? Little Gabe? C'mon." Johnson's voice wheezed on, his erratic gasps sounding like sandpaper rubbed together. It was rough and abrasive to him.
"Gabe," it rasped. And then his little legs ran.
"Hey. Gabe. Gabe. Little brother are you all there man? Hey, hey!" Mike's voice brought Gabe back from the world of dreamy memories.
"What? Ah, sorry, what were you saying?" Gabe remarked.
ever since you begun your 'sermons' again you've just been out of it. Anyway
man, I got this idea for you. Look man, the world's an unfair place, you know?"
"Every time you do a successful deal, you try to lecture me."
"You shut up. Anyway, man, you know what it takes to succeed in this world right?" Mike sleepily rose a finger in the air, as if proclaiming the words straight from God's mouth.
"No no man, you can't rely on anyone but you. Don't put your faith in things like that, the world is completely arbitrary." Mike arose from the bed and sat next to Gabe, giving off an air of erudition.
"Hey you learned a new word. Multiple syllables too."
up. All you have is your pride man, words are just… things. That don't really
mean anything. All you have is yourself, you're the only one that can really do
anything for your life. You know?"
"Man why're you always so thoughtful after a-"
"Get down here and eat before it gets cold!" shouted their father.
Gabe and Mike rushed out of the room, eager not to anger their father. They took hurried seats at the table, staring at the breakfast before them. They swallowed it, grateful it wasn't cold, because recently they had lived without no heat and no electric, had to swallow their pride after feeling so pathetic. The dim rays of a Saturday sun attempted to break through the smoggy clouds, soaking everything in a grey, poor light. It wearily reflected over the rusted pots, dull utensils, and sad dishware in the kitchen.
The clatter of forks and knives replaced the silence of conversation at the table. They chewed their food thoroughly, not wasting a bite. The taste of their uneventful scrambled eggs was forgotten in seconds; it wasn't special, but it was food.
"So, what're you boys doing today?" their dad asked.
"Hanging out," Mike said.
"I don't know. I thought I'd read up a little, go down to the block. See what they're up to." Gabe said.
can't you read more like your brother, Mike? He always has his nose in a book,
his mind's sharp" said Jordan.
Gabe smiled a little at his dad's comment.
"And you Gabe, look at how skinny you are! It's no good sitting around all the time, you need to go outside more, grow up strong like your brother."
Mike nudged his brother in the ribcage.
don't know how you guys ended up so differently," said Jordan. "If only your
moms was here."
Mike's cell phone suddenly rang.
"Wait what, yeah yeah, I'll be down there right now. Right, okay, bye. Sorry guys, I'm going to have to excuse myself. Work needs to be done. Later," said Mike.
Mike left the table, and his absence felt ghostly. Gabe felt uneasy as the countenance of his father suddenly felt heavier, and attempted to excuse himself, but was rejected by a stern hand from his father, who sat him back down again.
Gabe swallowed uneasily.
"We need to have a talk"
"About what?"
"I heard what you've been doing from Ms. Swanson down the hall." Gabe's knees began to tremble.
"Oh, it's just a speaking exercise for school. I uh, joined the speech club, and uh I thought it'd help to practice in front of people!"
"Don't lie to me Gabe."
Gabe swallowed apprehensively, fully expecting the blow of his father's words, ready to shoot him down like Clint Eastwood reborn, leaving his composure with more holes than a dartboard.
"Uh… I just do a lecture down-"
"They say you're doing 'sermons' again Gabe," Jordan interrupted.
only a speech-"
"I told you to stop those, didn't I?" Jordan's eyes focused in on Gabe, making Gabe feel even smaller. He wriggled in his chair, staring at the dusty clock to the right of his father's shoulder for any kind of answer, but didn't get any. He wanted to disappear at that point, to scatter himself like the dust hanging in the air.
"Look Dad…" Gabe struggled with his words. He could feel his father's piercing glare upon him, the very same glare he had experienced the first time Jordan had found out about his sermons. He had seen his son surrounded by a congregation of misfits, dregs, and other unfortunate souls society had turned their backs on. First, at the forefront, were children from the local school, admiring peers of Gabe from various classes that had appreciated his outspokenness. However, their revelry attracted the attention from people around the area, lost men who grew angered at the cheeriness of the group. But, as they approached the group to break it up, they were drawn by Gabe's words, words that extolled the virtues of work. Soon, men from all around encircled Gabe, sad men, angry men, dirty men, men without hope, as Gabe spoke on top of the soapbox, his voice reverberating in the hearts of everyone around. Gabe passionately spoke out, of dreams for the future, about the happiness they were capable of, of potential. But before they could begin to realize this potential, they had to realize what mattered in life. The words leapt over the heads of his young classmates, but they were pounded into the skulls of the poor men. Jordan watched as their faces changed, as the cataclysmic oceans of their lives were quelled for one second by Gabe's words. The men had a glint in their eyes that had been absent for years: hope.
Jordan stared at the men in the crowd, and recognized the ones he grew up with. He saw in them the same hopeless men he had tried to help years ago, the same ones without any aspirations, any drive. This was the same routine as before. Jordan had stood in front of them, appealed to them, with handfuls of job applications, service forms, and opportunities to improve themselves, and their community. They crowded around him, shook hands with him, and took the forms for employment in local businesses around the area. But nothing changed; it all remained the same. Within weeks Jordan had seen flyers littered throughout the street. He talked to men individually, in the attempt towards getting them to work towards anything, but to no avail. The only thing they saw, it seemed to Jordan, were disparate illusions, mere fantasies they could saw themselves in at that particular moment of time to warm themselves for that brief instant, before the harsh cold of their ineptitude and laziness struck them down. Before they remembered who they really were: bums. The lot of them, bums that siphoned money from their ailing mothers, bums that needed welfare like oxygen, bums that had kids all around the state, future statistics for runaways. And like a cruel circle of fate, they now surrounded Jordan.
"Before long, the young man got surrounded/ Those grabbed the guns, so goes the glory/And that is the way I got to end this story/ He was out chasin' cream and the American dream/ Tryin' to pretend the ends justify the means/ This ain't funny so don't you dare laugh/ It's just what comes to pass when you sell your ass/ Life is more than what your hands can grasp." Gabe's eyes were fierce; everyone was entranced by his intensity, like moths drawn into a flame. A faint sense of the recognition of what Gabe was trying to convey began to appear in the mind of the men around. But just as suddenly, Jordan's hands grabbed Gabe by the shoulders and dragged him home. Gabe had never known why.
"Dad, I mean like, I'm good at this. I can make a career out of this, I've been joking around with the guys in band class to release a record or something."
"It's a dumb idea. You should drop it while you're young."
"I… don't really want to though." Gabe suddenly questioned, feeling his trepidation dropping. This was important to him. Really important to him.
"You can't make anything out of it."
"Why?" Gabe's courage was rising. Gabe felt that his sermons were significant. That there was a point.
"Because, all people like that do is talk all the time!"
"There's nothing wrong with that!"
"Yes, there IS Gabe! You're young, you don't know yet. People only talk all the time, and don't do anything. The only thing that can be measured are actions! You need to be able to work, you need to be able to work with your hands, or else you're going to end up on the street just like the guys you preach to, the guys you give empty hopes to!"
"You're just mad that you didn't try hard enough with them! That's the only reason why!" Suddenly Gabe felt lightning on his cheek.
Gabe recoiled from the blow of his father's hand; it felt like the sky falling down on him. He was sideswiped from across the table, and he fell in a crumpled heap, knocking down his chair. His cheek stung, and his eyes began to grow bleary, but even blind, he knew his father's glare was fixated on him, stronger than he ever felt. Despite the words, the strict nature, the temperament more volatile than nitroglycerin, his father had never hit him. This fact hit him harder than even his father's fist, it caused his head to swell and burst with pain, and Gabe did the only thing he could do when he was in that situation: he ran.
Gabe hurtled out the door. Three floors up from the ground floor, he bolted for the staircase. A neighbor passing through the hall thought he was a blur. He jumped off one stair, two stairs, ten stairs, landed, stumbled, tripped down another twelve. His body numbed, he pushed himself off the ground, one floor cleared. His legs pounded against the ground, another floor, another floor, and then the entranceway into the sunshine, illuminating nothing. He continued in a straight line, running across traffic, amidst crowds, kept running towards only God knows what at this point.
His legs had felt this weight before. The last time he had ran like that was when he had run away from Mr. Johnson. He didn't know where he was going, but he kept going in a straight line, as if expecting something. When his legs felt like glass about to collapse, he threw himself into a phone booth. It was an empty street, a single light post spreading a pale radius of light. The phone booth was sprawled with graffiti, and Gabe ran one finger along the message "Abandon hope all who enter." He reached in for a quarter, who to call, dad or the police, dad or the police, fuck the police that's how to treat them, we can buy our way out of jail but we can't buy freedom. It was something from Mike's new cd.
was all Gabe was thinking about, home. He was about to dial when something
caught his attention outside. Mr. Walker! Mr. Walker was a kind, middle-aged
man who was always around when Gabe needed someone to watch him practice his
basketball dribbling. Gabe didn't bother wondering what he was doing all the
way out here, what mattered was that this man was his neighbor, someone from
home. He could take him home. Gabe was about to go to Mr. Walker when he
noticed approaching shadows. Curious, he watched from the phone booth. He
didn't understand what was happening back then, but with the wisdom of age he
knew. Back then it seemed like gibberish to him: look man, look, I can get the
money, no, no, I have a better bet this time, honestly I thought, no I was so sure, that that horse was going to pull through,
honest to God, I'll pay back double I'm good for my word just give me the cash
please please please, wait no what are you doing, put that down. As Mr.
Walker's voice grew more urgent, Gabe grew more fearful. The shadows had picked
up a crowbar, a pipe, a blunt object with the intention of hurt, and what Gabe
heard next hurt his skull. A cacophony of frightful, animal noises from Mr.
Walker, recoiling in pain. With each deafening thud, Mr. Walker responded with
an equally terrifying yelp, until Gabe was so scared that he began to run
again, wanting to get even farther away from it all.
Gabe's exhausted legs had taken him out three, four miles away from him his home. The sun was now at its apogee, slowing everything down in its humidity, as it loomed high in the sky. His father's hand still ached on his cheek, leaving a red mark on his tan skin. He observed his new surroundings, catching sight of immensely tall buildings scraping the skyline, as far as the eye could see, continuing past the horizon. He was now downtown, and these were unfamiliar surroundings; he had only gone here once, with his father, to fill in a cavity, as he was the only dentist close to them. It was different in Gabe's memory, however; he looked at everything intimidated.
"What am I going to do?" he thought.
Suddenly, his legs began to ache, and he went to go sit down. He had run harder than he had ever had in his life, harder than that traumatic night, and the strain was felt on his legs. He sat on a bench, rubbing his calves. While he rested, he began to reassess his actions. I'm away from home. There's nothing for me here. Maybe this is what it means to be dead, nothing to go back to. I don't know anyone out this far; the only family I've got is my brother and father. There is twenty dollars in my wallet, I'm only seventeen, I have no job skills, and I'm a senior in high school. I think I'm screwed. Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit.
Gabe was at a complete loss, and he planted his body on the bench, stretching out his limbs. He made note of the strewn newspaper, the trash surrounding the bench, feeling exactly like them. I have no purpose; I should just cast myself off to the side like everything here on this bench. The pungent smell of alcohol and cigarettes bombarded his nose, causing him to bolt up. He made eye contact with a homeless man, his brow furrowed in anger.
"What do you think you're doin' boy, this is MY bench!" said the homeless man, clenching his fists.
"What do you mean, man? You can't claim a bench." Gabe said wearily, but then immediately regretting it. This is a homeless man. He will not hesitate to kill me.
"Get off get off get off get off GET OFF!" the homeless man said, rising up. His tattered coat and shredded blue jeans made him seem terrifying to Gabe, causing Gabe to tremble. He ran, his legs on the brink of collapse; they seared in pain, wishing only for the slightest bit of rest. A couple meters later, Gabe fell down, his face on the gravel. Is this how Mr. Johnson felt? Is this what it means to live without purpose? What's the point to anything? And then, a loud voice caught Gabe's attention.
Admist the echo of a snare drum, a rich timbre filled Gabe's ears, appealing for everyone around to come, come, come witness a once in a lifetime event. Gabe was still lying in the sidewalk, and sat upright. He couldn't see the owner of the voice, but made note of its influence. People gathered around, obscuring the man, but they seemed enraptured. I'm jealous. Whoops and cheers mingled with claps began to fill the air, and the man fell into his zone, rapping:
"The most important time in history is, NOW, the present/ So count your blessings cause time can't define the essence/ But you stressin over time and you follow the Roman calendar/ These people enter Cona like Gattaca, you can bet/ they tryin to lock you down like Attica, the African Diaspora/ represents strength in numbers, a giant can't slumber forever/ I know you gotta get that cheddar whatever/ Aiyyo I heard you twice the first time money, get it together/ You must be History, you repeatin yourself out of the pages/ You keepin yourself depleting your spiritual wealth/ That quick cash'll get your ass quick fast in houses of detention/ Inner-city concentration camps where no one pays attention/ or mentions the ascension of death, til nothing's left/ The young, gifted and Black are sprung addicted to crack/ All my people where y'all at cause, y'all ain't here/ And your hero's using your mind as a canvas to paint fear/ With, broad brush strokes and tales of incarceration/ You get out of jail with that Knowledge of Self determination/ Stand in ovation, cause you put the Hue in Human/ Cause and effect, effect everything you do/ and that's why I got love in the face of hate/ Hands steady so the lines in the mental illustration is straight/ The thought you had don't even contemplate/ Infinite like figure eight there's no escape."
The words caught Gabe, and he pushed his troubles to the back of his mind. Déjà vu. He felt this way before; his mind ran back to that night. After he had sprinted away from the phone book, he grew desperate. He found himself in a completely new place, neon signs and drinks painted on wooden bars. It was a street reminiscent of Amsterdam, but to Gabe it might as well have been an alien world. He didn't know what to do, he clung close to a brick wall, making sure to stick close to a tipsy couple canoodling in the street. Gabe heard a calming sound, the gentle clinks of a piano, and went inside the bar to listen. Inside contrasted with outside; instead of gaudy décor, it was a classier setting, plush leather couches, soft lighting, a homely setting. A waitress noticed Gabe, omigod are you lost little boy, let's call your daddy, can I have his number, thank you thank you sit here please, do you want anything to drink? No? Okay I'll get your dad soon, don't worry. Gabe rested his head on the couch, and watched the pianist. Suddenly, a man came up on stage, and with the aide of the piano, began to speak in tune with the rhythm. It was amazing. His words flowed out, it felt like he was breathing life. Gabe didn't know what he was saying, but it calmed him down, it made him feel okay, it made him hopeful. The night began to fade away for some reason and maybe he was just feeling tired. Jordan rushed to the bar, and Gabe fell asleep in his arms.
There was a reason why he could feel this way a second time, despite the fact that everything was as low as it was before. There was a reason to this, cause and effect affects everything he does. His father, his brother, his loss of a home, all of these faded into the periphery as he listened to the man. Money doesn't mean anything, but then what did? The power of words made everything seem so insignificant, so small. Maybe that's the only thing that matters, intention. No, not intention, conviction. Everything he respected in people was brought about by respect, the upholding of their own beliefs. We can be inspired, we can inspire, as long as our hearts are into it. As long as we can believe. When you do give up, you merely end up a hollow shell of a person on a street, looking for something to fill up that void. Drugs, money, worthless physical things that were merely fleeting; there's something more, something divine, that people needed to keep their eyes to. And Gabe's job was to convey that divine thing. The realization of this made Gabe want to go up there.
He wanted to speak; he wanted to shout this out. Ignoring his legs, he got up, and walked towards the crowd. As he approached the soapbox, he noticed that this was the exact same man as he was before. Gabe had finally come up with a name for him: "The Sermonizer." He felt a reverential awe as he went up, shook his hand, introduced himself; the Sermonizer recognized him from a local news story, obliged and gave him the podium. Gabe had begun to speak, when just as suddenly, he heard a shout from the crowd.
"Yo man that be the guy from last night!" said a hoodlum.
"No way man, lookit him, lookit the guy, can't be the same, he's skinnier."
"No no man, they're family," said a third. They all sported black hoodies, a distinctive tattoo marking their face, a tribal sign. Gabe recognized them as gang members, but was confused as to how they knew his brother.
"Yeah that's the skinny bitch that talks all the time."
"Hmm. What do you think we should do man?"
"Well his brother Mike messed up our plans big time, stole our whole cartel. Sold all of it."
He what? Oh God I thought he was just bootlegging mixtapes Why is he in drugs now? Gabe's mind began to panic again.
"Let's see what would happen if we messed him up…"
three pushed the crowd to the side, their wide shoulders clearing a path. Gabe
didn't know what to do, he tried to run, but was pushed back by the crowd. The
biggest of them tried to throw his hands on Gabe, but was blocked by the
"Man, what the hell are you doing?" said the Sermonizer.
"Don't get in our way man, don't even fucking think of it. Look man we have business, just get out."
"No man, let this guy speak, let him-"
One of the men grew erratic, reached into his coat pocket. "Fuck man you don't know what this little bitch did! His father, fronts around all the time, like some kind of fucking leader, makes my dad feel like a nothing. His fucking brother, his takes our hard-earned shit and sells it, fucked up. For all I know this family can fucking die."
He pulled out something, a gun? At this point Gabe's vision began to blur, he felt dizzy. His body began to feel the toll, of so much emotional distance, of so much physical weakness. His body only had its limits, his mind seemed so separated from everything happening to his body; he didn't even know his own brother anymore, his father seemed so distant. He heard a blam, watched the Sermonizer fall down. Shit. Oh God why are you letting this happen, shit shit shit, and Gabe, overwhelmed with stress, blacked out, seeing the city skyline, watching the sun descend into the arches.
He woke up at a nearby police station. Gabe didn't know what to make of anything. He loved and hated his father, felt the same about his brother, felt the same about humanity. The best and worst, he kept experiencing both.
"Are you okay kid?" a policeman asked. "Look we found you at a nearby murder scene, it's messed up, this guy just went down… Did you know him? Oh shit, wait, before I ask you, let me get you some coffee, you look like shit."
But Gabe didn't really feel like it. He knew what was demanded of him. He needed to get that middle path for people; he needed to be that bridge, connecting the two extremes, sin and virtue together. He needed to be the balance, the support, for everyone like him, who suffered. He needed to speak out. He needed this. Until he did nothing would be resolved.


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Lynne Malcolm from ABC's 'All in the Mind' explores this perennial issue.
Are you a good and confident singer, or maybe you only ever feel comfortable singing in the privacy of your shower, or in the car? Many people think they are tone deaf, but, in fact, only a very small percentage of the population are scientifically
ANATS (Australian National Association for Teachers of Singing) is for those who have a passion for singing.
We help teachers in any style of singing to be the best they can be by providing opportunities for learning, developing and networking.
ANATS is with you throu
One Sydney Indigenous woman is trying to use the power of song to shape the conversation about which date Australia Day should be celebrated.
Jacinta Tobin, a senior Darug woman, is trying to revive Sydney's original language and to do that she will be leading a mass choral performance on Australia Day.

subset: commoncrawl


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The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge visited Uluru on Tuesday, as part of their official tour of Australia.
The bright red sandstone monolith is one of Australia's most iconic sights, standing almost 350 metres high, more than two miles long, and a mile wide.
Having been sacred to the country's Aboriginal community for thousands of years, the first European to see the natural wonder was the explorer William Gosse in the late 19th century. He named it Ayers Rock after the then Chief Secretary of New South Wales.
The Aboriginal name for the striking feature - Uluru - is now widely used.
As part of the couple's visit to the town of Yulara, members of the local Aboriginal community performed a traditional song and dance at the Uluru Cultural Centre.
In pictures: Royal Tour 2014 - Taronga Zoo
In pictures: Royal Tour 2014 - Taronga Zoo
1/1 Royal Tour 2014: Taronga Zoo
The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge with Prince George of Cambridge holding toy bilby at the unveiling a plaque, opening the Bilby enclosure during a visit to at Taronga Zoo in Sydney, Australia, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge are on a three-week tour of Australia and New Zealand.
Chris Jackson/PA Wire
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and Duchess of Cambridge off-duty photos may spark privacy row
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The couple were also presented with gifts of jewellery and a wooden spear.
After the Chief Minister of the Northern Territory hosted the couple for tea, the Duke and Duchess watched the sun set over Uluru.
The visit was the couple's second night away from their son Prince George during their 19-day tour of Australia and New Zealand, who is staying with his nanny in Canberra.
Additional reporting by agenciesReuse content


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All East Providence schools gain grant money for wireless capabilities
EAST PROVIDENCE — At its meeting Tuesday night, Feb. 11, the East Providence School Committee heard of and authorized a proposal presented by City Information Technology Director Kelly Ahrens, which allows the school department to procure upwards of a half-million of some $20 million in grant money approved by voters in the state for upgrades in the wireless capabilities in classrooms system wide.
Calling it an "amazing opportunity for the school district," Ms. Ahrens told the Committee the city was prepared to receive $494,000 in grant awards from the Rhode Island Department of Education's Wireless Classroom Initiative. The money will be used to install wireless internet access to students and teachers in every classroom in every one of the city's 12 school buildings, including the career and technical center on the East Providence High School campus.
The grant money is part of a $20 million technology infrastructure capital bond initiated by the state and approved by voters in the 2012 general election.
"The most amazing thing about this is when we first met with RIDE we still weren't sure we could receive this money, but now every single school in the district will have wireless capabilities," Ms. Ahrens said. "It's a wonderful thing. Everyone is now beginning to realize the importance of wireless in the classrooms."
The breakdown of funding by school building is as follows:
East Providence High School: $151.517
Career and Tech Center: $24, 540
Riverside Middle School: $69,855
Martin Middle School: $81,198
Kent Heights Elementary: $16,525
Waddington Elementary: $49,865
Hennessey Elementary: $15,794
Whiteknact Elementary: $19,597
Oldham Elementary: $14,114
Silver Spring Elementary: $16,880
Orlo Avenue Elementary: $16,871
Francis Elementary: $19,014
Ms. Ahrens noted the process of reviewing the needs and requirements of each building to make them fully wireless capable has been going on for the last year. A contractor has already been approved by RIDE. Ms. Ahrens said expects the process of installation to be completed throughout the summer with all classrooms being ready for use with the start of school in the fall of 2014.
In addition, the district has already acquired some 300 new computers and 80 Apple IPADs (tablets), equipment needed in anticipation of East Providence's expected participation in the Partnership for Assessment of Readiness for College and Careers (PARCC) testing program, but that can also be utilized throughout the curriculum on a daily basis by students and teachers.
"We're already thinking about new ways of doing business in East Providence public schools," Ms. Ahrens added. "This completely changes anything we thought we could ever do in our schools."


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What is Hydrokineses?
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The ability to manipulate water,or,if the hydrokinetic person is powerful enough,control the very umidity on bodies to achieve a variety of effects,like drying the water inside them to dehydrate them,make the water violently tear apart the body in question,or create water out of the thin air,and cover he's/her's body with a water barrier.even though no one in the marvel continuity has ever achieved this,it's presumed that very powerful hydrokinetic persons can do it.
- Just to give an example of hydrokinetic: Hydro-Man.


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Our department is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for emergencies, in–house diagnostic and CT scans. All other services are on–call.
Call 215-662-3000 to make an appointment or request an appointment online.
Congratulations to the 198 Penn physicians listed below who were included in Philadelphia Magazine's Top Docs™ 2017.
Penn Medicine is one of the world's leading academic medical centers.
A clinical trial is a research study involving patient volunteers that are conducted to find safe and effective treatments for a variety of health conditions.


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Archived Listing - Taman Industrial Bukit Permai, Cheras, RM 3,200,000
Taman Industrial Bukit Permai, Cheras, For Sale at RM 3,200,000
is no longer active which means that the listing has expired or the property has been taken off our search result listings.
Active listings that fulfill similar criteria can be viewed towards the end of this page.
Taman Industrial Bukit Permai, Cher...
Jalan Bukit Permai Utama, 56100, Kuala Lumpur
RM 485 psf
- Asking Price : RM 3,200,000
- Asking Price psf: : RM 485 per sq. ft.
- Occupancy : Vacant
- Posted Date : 07/08/2012
This coverage information is indicative only and is not a guarantee of service availability at this property. To get the latest coverage information, visitHERE
Description :
Extended and renovated double storey semi-detached industrial factory.
The subject property fronts onto the north-western side of Jalan Bukit Permai Utama, within Taman Industri Bukit Permai, 56100 KL. Geographically, Taman Industri Bukit Permai is sited along the south-eastern side of Jalan Kuari and located off the south-eastern side of the Middle Ring Road II. Taman Industri Bukit Permai lies approximately 12.3 kilometres to the south-east of the Kuala Lumpur City Centre.
Taman Industri Bukit Permai is an industri cum cormmecial developement comprising double and three storey detached factories, double storey terraced factories, one and a half storey detached factories, double storey semi-detached factories and double storey terraced shophouses.
Kampung Cheras Baru, an established settlement comprising mainly single and double storey detached houses of semi-permanant and permanant constructions, mosque, clinics, schools and undeveloped residential lands desinated for detached houses, is sited along the northern side of Jalan Kuari and to the north and north-west of Taman Industri Bukit Permai.
Prominent apartment/condo developments nearby include Mutiara Court and the newly completed Glennview Condo and Monte Bayu Condo whilst the petrol filling and services stations namely Caltex, Petronas and Esso are sited along Jalan Kuari.
Other residential areas include Taman Cheras, Taman Mawar, Taman Bukit Permai, Taman Bukit Mewah, Taman Seraya, Taman Kencana, Taman Muda and Taman Bukit Teratai.
The subject property is accessible from the Kuala Lumpur City Centre via Jalan Ampang thereafter onto the Middle Ring Road II, Jalan Kuari and finally onto Jalan Bukit Permai Utama.


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Tourmaline necklace, Carved Tourmaline, Tourmaline Leaf, Solitaire necklace, Silver necklace, Camp Sundance Gem Bliss. Carved Watermelon Tourmaline 8mm petite pink Rubellite Leaf. All Tourmaline Camp Sundance dainty solitaire necklace. On Sterling Silver satellite beaded chain with smooth ovals of Verdite, Indicolite and cotton candy pink Rubellite. This special and unique necklace is adjustable, 17-18". Tourmaline inspires creativity, reduces anxiety and stress, corresponds to the heart and root chakras. Watermelon Tourmaline is said to balance and empower the energies of other Tourmalines. Need a different size, color or design, please email for available supplies. Two different designs also shown. A future Gem Bliss heirloom. Ready to ship in a gift box with jewelry pouch.
USPS Priority domestic shipping, tracking and insurance included, excellent value! USPS First Class International shipping.
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Contemporary handcrafted future heirlooms
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>What are the three annuals that you use most extensively in your hosta garden
>as companion plants?
Here in the UK where we tend to uses hostas in the shade, impatiens are
invaluable. I like 'Super Elfin White' creeping out from under 'Francee'
and 'Super Elfin Pearl', which is blushed white, emerging from under
'Hadspen Heron'.
I've combined annuals with hostas in pots too, and Viola 'Princess Yellow',
with its dark whiskers, trailing out from under 'Halcyon' looked great and
I think Viola 'Sorbet Yellow Frost', a pale blue and primrose bicolour,
might also look good.
Finally, of three? Here's an idea - for where there's enough sun. Try
planting lobelia amongst hostas - but not the little bushy ones. Use
trailing lobelia which develops a much more open and airy habit of growth
and fits in better. The Regatta Series is best, and 'Regatta Blue Splash',
a blue and white bicolour is great with blue hostas, while 'Regatta White'
is good with hostas whose leaves are in the yellow/charteuse range.
Graham Rice
Northamptonshire, UK
Zone 8
Visit the Discovering Annuals website at
To sign-off this list, send email to firstname.lastname@example.com with the
message text UNSUBSCRIBE HOSTA-OPEN


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Founded in 1988 by Chief Grand Master Jay K. Shin, the Association has taught over 70,000 worldwide. Both the Gresham and Sandy location schools are run directly under Chief Grand Master Shin who holds a 9th degree black belt in Taekwondo and has more than 50 years of experience. You are guaranteed the Association's tradition of the best Taekwondo instruction, as Chief Grand Master Shin personally selects and recruits instructors from all over the world in order to provide the highest-quality instruction from our students.
Personalized Programs. Whether your focus is physical fitness, discipline, self control, or safety and self-defense, our schools offer a number of programs that will fit your developmental needs as well as your busy schedule. Whatever your need, U.S. West Coast Taekwondo has a personalized program for you and our instructors are eager to help you reach your goals!
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Global Award
Introducing the award
The Electrochimica Acta Gold Medal may be awarded every two years to the person judged to have made the most significant contribution to electrochemistry in recent years.
Professor Bond is currently Professor of Chemistry at Monash University, Victoria, Australia. Over the period 1978-1990, he was Foundation Professor of Chemistry at Deakin University, Victoria, Australia and for the period 1990-1995, Professor of Chemistry, La Trobe University, Victoria, Australia. He received his Ph.D. (1971) and D.Sc. (1977) degrees from the University of Melbourne, where he held teaching and research positions. Read more
Masahiro Watanabe (2012)
Prof. Watanabe graduated the master course of Yamanashi University in 1968 and received his PhD degree in Physical Chemistry from the University of Tokyo in 1976. He has been a Professor of University of Yamanashi and was the Director of Clean Energy Research Center (CERC) until March of 2009 and is currently the Director of Fuel Cell Nanomaterials Center (FCNC). Read more
Ulrich Stimming (2010)
Born in Weimar, Germany, Ulrich Stimming received his Diploma in Chemistry in 1974 and was awarded his Ph.D. in Physical Chemistry in 1979, both at the Freie Universität Berlin, Germany. Since this year, Prof. Stimming is Co-director of the Joint Institute for Advanced Power Sources for Electric Vehicles (IAPS) with Tsinghua University, Beijing, China. Read more
Philip N. Bartlett (2008)
Philip N. Bartlett received a BA in Chemistry from the University of Oxford in 1978. He was awarded a British Petroleum Scholarship to study for a Ph.D. in Photoelectrochemistry under the supervision of Professor W. John Albery FRS at Imperial College and received his PhD in 1981. Professor Bartlett is a Fellow of the International Society for Electrochemistry and of the Royal Society of Chemistry. Read more
Andrzej Wieckowski (2006)
J. Lipkowski (2004)
B.E. Conway (2002)
A.J. Arvia (2000)
T. Osaka (1998)
L. Peter (1996)
M. Armand (1994)
S. Trasatti (1992)
D. Kolb (1990)
Dieter M. Kolb (born 1942 in Amberg, Germany) studied physics at the Technical University of Munich, where he did his thesis work under the supervision of the late Professor Heinz Gerischer. He is Fellow of the Electrochemical Society and the International Society of Electrochemistry, and a Corresponding Member of the National Academy of Sciences, Argentina. Read more
Established in 1990 the Electrochimica Acta Gold Medal may be awarded every two years to the person judged to have made the most significant contribution to electrochemistry in recent years. The award is presented at that years International Society of Electrochemistry Meeting.
Rules for the Electrochimica Acta Gold Medal
SUBMISSION OF AWARD NOMINATION: All correspondence, whether by mail or email and including that for awards joint between ISE and other societies, should be sent to the ISE Office. Unsuccessful candidates can be re-nominated in a subsequent year.
- The Electrochimica Acta Gold Medal of the International Society of Electrochemistry was donated by Pergamon Press (now Elsevier), Oxford. It may be awarded biennially for the most significant contribution to electrochemistry in recent years.
- The prize consists of a certificate and a gold medal.
- Nominations can be made by individuals or institutions. Candidates may not nominate themselves.
- Nominations should consist of no more than 1000 words and should highlight the motivations for proposing the Award. Nominations should be uploaded via the Submission Site and should be accompanied by:
1) Short CV (max 1 page) with age, affiliation, professional career, professional positions, honours, awards, etc.
2) List of publications of the last 10 years.
3) Max 5 supporting letters.
All documents uploaded must be in PDF format.
- The winner is expected to give a lecture at the next Annual ISE Meeting. ISE will pay for his/her registration and banquet fees.
The prize consists of a certificate and a gold medal.


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It's been reported today that The Voice coach and mentor Will.i.am is "sick to death" of finalist Cleo Higgins, who he apparently described as "The worst diva we've had!"
Cleo – who first shot to fame in 90s band Cleopatra – and Will have reportedly had a series of bust ups backstage, and a show insider claims she even "screamed at him" to end the phone call he was making in order to concentrate on her!
The Mirror quotes the show source as saying, "At one rehearsal she started screaming and shouting at Will to put his mobile down and concentrate on her.
"But she generally just thinks she knows best and refuses to accept his advice."
As to what Will's had to say about her, the paper states, "The star judge is 'sick to death of dealing with her'."
Fans of the show will know that Cleo is one of only eight remaining hopefuls as the show reaches its final two rounds this weekend. However, bookmakers have her as a 66/1 outsider to win.
Last night, a spokesman for Cleo insisted her relationship with Will was "good" and added that she's "looking forward to the show this weekend."
Meanwhile, The Sun reports that Will recently snubbed a charity's request for his backing after learning that he wouldn't be paid to assist the unemployed youngsters the charity helps.
The paper states, "The Black Eyed Peas rapper, 38, was set to be the first ambassador of a £100million low-interest loan scheme launched by PM David Cameron and ex-Dragons' Den guru James Caan."
However, it seems Will's managers told him the charity was "not a good fit" with the singer's public profile.
A spokesman for Mr Caan said, "Like in The Voice, Will sticks his hand over the button, then changes his mind.
"First he's interested, then his management asks if he's getting any money, then he's not interested."
Meanwhile, Will's US agent apparently admitted the charity had asked Will for money for his participation, however the report adds, "But she claimed they were after a fee for the Prince's Trust charity rather than the star himself."
But back to the first story in this article, and here's a reminder of Cleo on The Voice…


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Brewers like to swing, and that's that
When the unheralded Milwaukee Brewers jumped out to a 20-8 start in April, it prompted national baseball writers and publications to investigate exactly how that happened.
What inquiring minds soon discovered is that the Brewers have, shall we say, a rather unusual offensive approach. It is a swing-away attack in which few hitters take pitches, much less draw walks.
In particular, the younger hitters in the batting order are extremely aggressive at the plate. Leftfielder Khris Davis had one walk in his first 130 plate appearances; shortstop Jean Segura two in his first 126; second baseman Scooter Gennett six in his first 127.
When free-swinging leadoff hitter Carlos Gomez is leading the club with 14 walks, you know you have an aggressive lineup. But do you really want to encourage Gomez to take pitches? Hitting the first pitch, he is batting .517 with a 1.534 OPS.
Entering Saturday, the Brewers had drawn 87 walks, fourth-fewest among the 30 major-league clubs. Their .301 on-base percentage ranked 24th. The Brewers' strikeout total of 282 was 15th in the major leagues, another indication that hitters were putting balls in play early in the count.
Putting those numbers in perspective, the general assumption nationally was that this kind of offensive approach is not sustainable over a full season. And, sure enough, the Brewers have struggled to score runs of late, making victories harder to come by.
Entering their game Saturday night against the New York Yankees, the Brewers had lost seven of nine games to give back some of the early cushion they built. In those seven losses, they scored only 20 runs.
As for the criticism that this kind of attack is doomed to fail over the long run, the Brewers have this response: "What do you want us to do about it?"
In other words, you're not going to change the stripes of hitters who like to swing at pitches instead of taking them. You can teach patience to a certain degree to young hitters, but if this is what got them to the major leagues, good luck overhauling their offensive approach.
"We're not teaching this," manager Ron Roenicke said of his hitters' swing-away approach. "This is the personnel we have.
"I don't want these guys going up there looking for walks. Just go up there looking for a good pitch to hit, and if it's not there, don't swing."
Roenicke fully admits his offense needs to generate more base runners. But he's also aware that part of the problem has been the oblique injury that landed Ryan Braun on the DL and the prolonged slump of AramisRamirez, who exited the game Saturday night with a strained hamstring. If you're not getting anything out of the Nos. 3 and 4 spots in the lineup, you're going to be challenged to score runs.
"I know the lineup is not the same, but I still think we have enough guys in there that we should be scoring more runs," said Roenicke. "If you get base runners on, you're going to score runs. If you hit a home run, it's not going to be just a solo home run. The two- and three-run home runs, that's what kills (an opposing) team."
Because the Brewers seldom run up pitch counts, it allows opposing starters to go deeper in games. But general manager Doug Melvin, noting how imposing specialized bullpens have become, isn't convinced that's necessarily a bad thing.
"You have guys coming out of the bullpen throwing hard, making matchups tougher," said Melvin, who noted offense is down throughout the majors. "I'm not sure you want to get into some of these bullpens. Your best chance might be against a starting pitcher who's getting a bit tired."
As for his team's low walk total, Melvin said, "You don't see many guys walking 100 times anymore. They're striking out more. Strikeouts don't bother hitters these days. We've seen that hitters who draw walks have that skill or not by the time they get to the big leagues."
What could have been
How much better would the Brewers' batting order look with first baseman Jose Abreu?
The Chicago White Sox's impressive slugger became only the second player in major-league history to win both rookie of the month and player of the month honors in his league for his first month.
The Cuban defector hit 10 homers with 32 RBI in April, records for a rookie before May 1. He became the first player to produce four games of at least four RBI over his first 29 games.
The White Sox heard criticism when they gave Abreu a six-year, $68 million contract and brought him directly to the big leagues. Now those critics have disappeared. Abreu entered Saturday with 13 homers and 37 RBI, both figures leading the AL.
To their credit, the Brewers don't seek publicity by revealing when they pursue free agents, be it on the international or major-league markets. But reports surfaced indicating Milwaukee was among a group of other teams, including Houston, Boston and Colorado, bidding more than $60,000 for Abreu.
Chicago's offer was believed to be the highest, but another factor drawing Abreu to that club was the presence of Cuban players Alexei Ramirez and Dayan Viciedo.
Without revealing details, Brewers principal owner Mark Attanasio said his team was a "serious" bidder for Abreu. That should not come as a surprise because under Attanasio's leadership the Brewers have been far more aggressive in pursuing expensive talent.
The Brewers aren't always successful, which is why CC Sabathia, Prince Fielder and Zack Greinke now play for other teams. But that doesn't stop them from trying.
Arms are coming
There are some big things happening on the pitching front with the Brewers' Class AA Huntsville affiliate. Entering Saturday, the Stars ranked second in the Southern League with a 2.64 ERA and led that circuit with six shutouts.
The Stars recently set a franchise record with 30 consecutive scoreless innings.
"We've had some guys dramatically improve and others we have high hopes for are pitching well," said Brewers assistant general manager Gord Ash.
Among the surprises is left-hander Brent Suter, among the league leaders with a 5-1 record and 1.71 ERA through seven starts. Prospects Drew Gagnon (3-1, 2.66), David Goforth (2.60 ERA in 13 relief appearances, seven saves) and Kevin Shackelford (3.05 ERA in 14 relief outings) have fared well, and improving starter Tyler Cravy (5-1, 2.08) is another to watch.
Making the Huntsville pitching situation more impressive is the fact that two starting pitchers, Brooks Hall (elbow spur) and Andy Moye (hamstring strain), have been on the DL.
"That shows you the kind of depth we have," said Ash. "Cravy is an under-the-radar type guy who's having a nice year. We debated over the winter about putting him on the 40-man roster."
Another great story at Huntsville has been the offensive production of catcher Shawn Zarraga, a 44th-round draft pick in 2007. Zarraga, 25, was hitting .444 through 26 games with a .517 OBP and .500 slugging percentage.
Ash noted that Zarraga has made great strides behind the plate as well.
"He's always had the hitting capability, but he's never been a very good defender," said Ash. "I talked to him at the end of last year and I said, 'If you really want to be serious, you better get home and get in condition.'
"And he did. He lost 20 to 25 pounds. He has turned himself into a decent receiver. He's a switch-hitter. If you can hit like that, you've got a chance. No one had ever trusted his ability to catch. That's not the case anymore."
Turnabout is fair play
There's no small irony that Joe Torre, as MLB vice president for on-field operations, is now BruceFroemming's boss. Froemming, a Milwaukee native, was a major-league umpire for 37 seasons and now a supervisor in the department that Torre oversees.
Way back in 1960, when Froemming was beginning his umpiring career in the Class C Northern League and Torre was a teenage catcher for the Eau Claire Braves, the two often clashed. Both had big personalities that led to conflicts on the field.
"We didn't see eye to eye," said Froemming. "As the season went on, we had many encounters. When he was catching, he wanted balls and strikes. We were both learning our profession at the time."
Torre, who estimated Froemming ejected him from games about five times, took time during his induction into the Milwaukee Braves Honor Roll to get in some digs at the former ump.
"We were both not very nice people back then," said Torre. "We were both real pains in the rear end. However, I have changed.
"The only thing I had over him was I got to the big leagues 10 years ahead of him. I still sort of push it in his face. Now that we have cellphones, I'm sorry about that because he calls me all the time."
While laughing now about those long-ago conflicts, Froemming said it was a true honor to work for Torre.
"He has really given that department at lot of credibility because of his knowledge, on and off the field," said Froemming. "He has done everything in the game. He's terrific with people. I enjoy working for him."
MLB: Colorado 3B Nolan Arenado
The little-known Arenado set the Rockies' franchise record by hitting in 28 consecutive games before that streak was snapped Friday. Arenado, who started his streak April 9, was batting .360 (40 for 111) during the streak with four home runs, 10 doubles and 19 RBI.
BREWERS: LHP Zach Duke
Duke's continued success as a left-handed specialist in the bullpen has been a big factor in protecting late leads. In 17 appearances covering 152/3 innings, Duke has allowed only 10 hits and three walks with 22 strikeouts.
Mets at Yankees: Monday-Tuesday. Teams then flip to Citi Field.
Braves at Giants: Monday-Wednesday. Giants fared well in Atlanta.
Tigers at Red Sox: Friday-Sunday. Detroit off to fast start.
Braves at Cardinals: Friday-Sunday. Tough road trip for Braves.
The last time the Brewers and Pittsburgh Pirates met, there was a benches-clearing brawl that led to four suspensions. Will there be any remaining hard feelings? We'll find out when the NL Central foes clash again in a three-game series at Miller Park beginning Tuesday. Then it's off to face the Cubs in Chicago, the first stop of a three-city, 10-game trip.
Led by Rajai Davis' league-high 12 steals, the Detroit Tigers entered the weekend with 28 stolen bases. In 2013, they had only 35 steals for the entire season, fewest in the American League.
When Atlanta second baseman Dan Uggla showed some progress at the plate in the early weeks of the season, the Braves hoped last year's offensive horrors were behind him. But Uggla is back in a familiar rut.
Uggla is batting .184 wit five extra-base hits in 28 games and has been riding the bench while Ramiro Pena sees the bulk of the action at second. Last year, Uggla was left off Atlanta's postseason roster after batting .179.
Uggla is signed through next season with about $24 million owed him, so it's doubtful the Braves would release him. But he's also virtually impossible to trade and can only play second base, so he's not much help off the bench.
Second base prospect Tommy La Stella is batting .300 at Class AAA Gwinnett, but it remains to be seen if Uggla will be aced out completely.
"Where I'd want to be is 3-0 with a 0.00 ERA in 27 innings. But that's not the case. I just have to keep working." — Philadelphia LHP Cole Hamels, who was 0-2 with a 7.02 ERA after three starts
Class AAA Nashville
LHP Brad Mills has been on a roll in the Sounds' starting rotation. After tossing seven shutout innings Thursday in Colorado Springs, Mills is 2-0, 1.72 in seven games (five starts). He has allowed four hits and no earned runs over his last 13 innings.
Class AA Huntsville
RHP Arcenio Leon is off to a tremendous start in the Stars' bullpen. Through 14 appearances, he has a 0.83 ERA and has allowed only 12 hits and two walks in 212/3 innings while logging 20 strikeouts.
Class A Brevard County
LHP Jed Bradley, a first-round pick in 2013, is gaining traction with yet another fine outing Thursday (62/3 IP, 2 H, 0 R, 7 K). Through seven starts, he is 4-1 with a 2.77 ERA, with a .229 opponents batting average.
Class A Wisconsin
1B David Denson, who is only 19, has a .242 batting average but a .375 OBP by virtue of drawing 21 walks in 30 games.
Send email to firstname.lastname@example.com


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ED Magedson – Founder
Ripoff Report
mycarepharmacyInternet USA
mycarepharmacy Danny Jeff Dishonest Thieves..... sent money no product or response. Phone numbers dont work or no answer. Competition w/ Satan! Internet
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Ordered some pills for my wife....then they called me..Jeff then the next day Danny. Both would fill my order. Both gave me different prices. I asked why? They said depends where shipped from. Send money to Pakistan takes two weeks...or Dominican rep. for 2 days. When I call shipping dept. answers and to leave message. No one calls back now but phone is still working. Danny says he's in California and Jeff shipping was in Miami. These guys will burn in hell one day! They can kill someone who is desperate to get the meds they need.
This report was posted on Ripoff Report on 08/29/2013 05:54 PM and is a permanent record located here: http://www.ripoffreport.com/reports/mycarepharmacy/internet/mycarepharmacy-danny-jeff-dishonest-thieves-sent-money-no-product-or-response-phon-1080317. The posting time indicated is Arizona local time. Arizona does not observe daylight savings so the post time may be Mountain or Pacific depending on the time of year.
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Welcome to my website! I'm so happy to be able to present this site to you, and many MANY thanks to Ellen Andrews for all the work she's done and for showing me how to use this wonderful new site. I don't think she charged me enough. I REALLY don't know what I'm doing and she's more of my own private website tutor than just the designer!
I hope you like what you see here… if you promise to have a look, I'll promise to do my very best to keep you updated on what's going on and let you know what I'm doing, where I'm going and what shoes I'll be wearing. (That, my dears, is wickedly important…)
Don't forget to check out the songs from my album "Tomorrow". It was released in 2011, won the 2012 Music PEI Country Recording of the Year and is here for your listening pleasure. If you really like it, go the The Store tab above, or you can simply go to www.cdbaby.com and find it there too.
And now… there is another album for you to have a peek at; "Still". It's a collection of gospel/inspirational songs that include the beautiful standards like How Great Thou Art, I Surrender All and Amazing Grace, to a couple of great contemporary songs and lastly, and to me, more importantly, are the songs I wrote about some of the tougher spots I've been in the past.
I hope you like what you see/hear here – Let me know what you think and thanks for stopping by!
February 15th, 2017
Here in Prince Edward Island, we just had a pretty big snowstorm in which the Island pretty much shut down Monday at noon and didn't really get operating again until Tuesday mid-afternoon. ...
February 15th, 2017
Well, it's 10 to 10 Tuesday night, Valentine's Day and I'll be leaving my husband tomorrow (NOT IN A BAD WAY!) for a week in Nashville with my sister, her husband and a few ...
January 20th, 2017
Hey, late Happy New Year, all folks! I'm not one for New Years' resolutions, but I'm making one right here, right now – I'm going to do better in keeping this ...
May 5th, 2016
So here we were – 3 intrepid travelling musicians loading our guts and our gear into my beautiful red Buick for 5 days in Sydney, Nova Scotia at the East Coast Music Awards Week. I only ...


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The Best Garage Door Repairs
Written on December 4, 2016 By Tullis in garage door repair
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Any serious sock knitter who takes themselves seriously, in all seriousness, has at least one pair on the needles, another pair whose second sock is knit halfway, and at least one new skein in the queue to be cast on. Seriously.
I am one of those sock knitters.
I am also someone, who, up until today, and for a period of about a year, didn't really enjoy knitting.
I know this sounds nuts but it's true. I think a combination of things contributed to my ambivalence. First, after writing five books and designing literally hundreds of patterns over the past several years, knitting has become "work." And as it happens, I have been writing a sixth book over the past year. Then to pile on another factor: I have been suffering through a few knitting injuries that make the act of knitting painful.
My life hasn't been a ton of fun when it comes to the knitting thing.
This will change soon because I'm having surgery on my right hand on Monday.
This has been something that I have put off for quite a long time. I have carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands and cubital tunnel syndrome in both elbows and severe arthritis in my right thumb. I'm not telling you this because I want attention--sheesh, the last thing I enjoy reading in someone's blog is a litany of their health woes and complaints--instead, I mention this because I'm hoping that anyone reading this will stop and listen to their bodies if they are experiencing pain.
So, I will stop here--but there is one thing that happened today that I want to tell you about. Realizing that I probably won't be able to knit for some time (my doctor who is a highly regarded hand surgeon and handmade sweater aficionado assures me it'll be pretty quick), I had this terrible urge to finish ALL the socks I have on the needles. That means, the one pair on the needles, the other pair whose second sock is knit halfway, and to start on the skein that is in the queue.
I finished that one pair that was on the needles, and today, as a plugged along on that second pair whose second sock is knit halfway, I had a pleasant sensation that I haven't felt in a really long time. I was enjoying knitting! It was honestly so nice to feel that feeling because I was afraid that it had gone away.
I'll let you know how the surgery goes. Be well, my friends.
BTW: That yarn in the picture. The green is from Arne and Carlos, the one on the needles is gosh-knows-what, and the red and green one is Opal Fresh and Juicy (which reminds me that I was given the unfortunate nickname of "hot and juicy" in high school due to a popular Wendy's Hamburger chain commercial. Ugh. I'm glad that it didn't stick).
So, I'm going to the Rhinebeck Sheep and Wool festival for book signings in October. Yes, Rhinebeck. For those of you not-yet-annointed (that would be me as well), it is a sheep and wool festival held north of New York City in Duchess County. I have no idea what goes on there--except I hear there's the usual fried fair food, lots of sheep, goats and what have you, and yarn, AND that one should NOT bring suitcases on wheels or other wheel-y items because it makes people mad--further, I am told that it is de rigueur to knit yourself a "Rhinebeck Sweater."
The so-called Rhinebeck Sweater has this interesting lore, something that I've only touched on a bit because, well, I've never been there. I have noticed, though, that there are tons of pictures of knitters wearing their sweaters, and have heard many stories of finish-line knitting in time for the event. I have even heard that some wear their sweaters that are still UFO's.
So, being in the armpit of California--and you know I like knitting sweaters and all--it doesn't make a lot of sense for me to knit a sweater that I won't really ever wear but once. I know it sounds crazy, me being a knitwear designer and all, but I just don't wear sweaters. It's too warm. In fact, as proof, I will make a confession: You all know what I'm talking about when I say that there are a few items in my laundry hamper that keep getting passed over. You know, there's always a top or maybe some socks that get left behind time after time because I just don't need to wear them, want to wear them, or frankly don't want to deal with deciding to do with them. You know about this, right?
Well, when I did a couple of loads of laundry last night I noticed a sweater that had been passed over many times. So many times, that I think it has been there for at least two years. And that might be an understatement.
Oprah, I'm sure, would have a thing or two to say about me and my hamper.
At any rate, in keeping with the whole Rhinebeck Sweater thing, I decided that I'd make a vest instead. I looked around and I found this class on Craftsy, The Fair Isle Vest, by Mary Jane Mucklestone, and wow, what fun.
Even though I've worked this type of stranded knitting before and worked steeks, I totally appreciated the class. Mary Jane is such a great teacher. And the class is great because I was able to pause or fast forward to places where I wanted information. I confess I am not totally happy with my color choices because the actual motif gets sort of muddy and hidden with my version, but that's okay. My goal was to have a sunny feeling--sort of Southern California style--if you know what I mean.
I knit the second size up. My gauge is pretty close to goal, but because of my long torso, what I'd do next time (and there will be a next time because this is something I might actually wear), is make the smallest size and lengthen the body and work the armhole depth the same as the second size. Does that make sense?
Full disclosure:
P.S. If you want to know where I got the yarn (it's Jamieson's Shetland DK), I found it at Camilla Valley Farm Weavers Supply. They actually have a deal there where you can buy the correct quantities of the yarn for your particular size at a bit of a discount. My next one will be pinks.
I gotta admit, after finishing The All Around Stitch Dictionary, I was knitted out. Completely and utterly knitted out. I was so knitted out, that all I knit were socks and little squares. I knit, like, 200 or more squares that were not swatches for the books. Part of me thinks that, after literally three years of knitting swatch after swatch trying to figure out how to crack the code of making it make sense flat, in the round, and upside down as I did for both Up, Down, All-Around Stitch Dictionary and The Knitting All Around Stitch Dictionary, my brain decided that I couldn't knit unless all I did was make garter log cabin square after square, or ersatz sock after sock after sock.
It took about four months of repetition, but I finally knit a garment! And I actually enjoyed it!
I remember the actual moment when the urge hit me. I was sitting in my office staring at yet another rerun of Beverly Hills 90210 and I spotted a hank of linen there in the wicker basket next to the tv. I got up, walked over to it and remembered how it felt to knit with linen. Lovely, lovely linen. Yeah, I thought, it's tough on the hands, but boy oh boy does it reward when it's all complete.
The trouble with linen, though, is that you can't just knit it (especially in the round) in stockinette stitch or it will bias. Linen is made of a type of fiber that will do that to you. (Just try it and see, but I hope you don't because it'll make you sad.) So, even though I felt the beginnings of the urge to actually knit "something" again, I knew that if I were to use the linen--my favorite fiber--that I'd have to commit to something that required me to actually pay attention, even just a little bit.
I poured through my stitch dictionaries and found a simple texture pattern that was easy enough remember that would also keep my project from biasing. The stitch pattern is called "Purl Texture" and when working it in the round it works like this:
Rnd 1: *K3, p3; rep from asterisk to end.
Rnds 2 - 4: Knit.
Rnd 5: *P3, k3; rep from asterisk to end.
Rnds 6 - 8: Knit.
While the texture is subtle, there is enough of a break-up in the field of stockinette stitch that prevents the linen from biasing.
The bad news is, I didn't write down the pattern. I do have notes, however, and I'm considering writing it up for sale. I modeled it after a racer-back tank that I have. It's one of those that you buy in packets at the five and dime. I wanted this to be much, much looser and more of a tunic so I tried it on as I knit it. It's knit in the round from the bottom up all in one piece. I usually would choose to knit around a 34" to a 36" bust for my frame, but I wanted this to be oversized, and it is (I think it might measure around 40"). All in all, I quite like it and it'll serve me well. I confess I normally don't wear what I knit (it's just too hot even for a lightweight sweater most of the time), but this is the kind of thing I'll definitely use for years. It's perfect as a beach coverup as well.
I used about four hanks of Euroflax Sport Weight Linen in what they call Heron Grey. To me, it looks more blue. The color you see in the pictures is true despite the colorfulness of the pictures. (I guess I'm lucky I'm married to a guy who knows how to use a camera.)
In other news: Girlfriend started high school. High school! She's about as tall as me and her feet are a 9.5 ladies (Mine are about 8-8.5, so...) This, my friends, is cray-cray. And to think when I started this blog she was barely potty trained.
Double P.S.: Looks like I'm working on another stitch dictionary. More on that to come.
I'm thrilled to announce the release of my new book The Knitting All Around Stitch Dictionary! Like the companion volume, The Up, Down, All-Around Stitch Dictionary that was released in 2014, it contains 150 base stitch patterns which I present to be knitted not only in its original, "flat" orientation, but also converted to in-the-round, top-down and bottom up. So, with this book, you'll have literally hundreds of ways to knit the stitch patterns in the book.
This latest volume contains a new section, Mosaics. (In addition to Knits and Purls, Fancy, Lace, Ribs, and Cables.)
Oh, and did I mention that each stitch pattern is presented by chart and fully written out?
When I get a chance to talk to people about writing these books, they almost always mention how tough it must be to "crack" each of the stitch patterns. Yup. It is hard. The thing is, I do like knitting in the round and top-down, so while designing new knitting patterns it occurred to me that books like these would be helpful to other knitters who, even though many have the skills to convert them on their own, would like a handy reference at their fingertips that does all the work for them.
If you want a peek, check out this link for a free tidbit from the book, a recipe for a basic top-down double triangle shawl.
BLOG TOUR (Mark your calendars!)
4/28 - Leethal
5/2 - Yarniacs
5/5 - Mason-Dixon Knitting
5/9 - Craft Sanity
5/16 - Knitcircus
5/ 18 - AboutKnitting.com
5/23 - Craftgossip
Yeah, I've made quilts and afghans before. A whole load of them. I crocheted a baby blanket for a friend but I think I didn't really know how to add new yarn or sew in ends in those days. All I recall is going to visit the baby and see that the afghan was falling apart. I was embarrassed but the mom, I think, felt worse. She blamed herself and tried to hide the flaws from me and promised to put it back together.
I also made this huge crocheted Christmas afghan for my step mom. It must weigh 20 pounds. It's your classic Red Heart and the trees are made with these huge bobbles. She still brings it out every Christmas after probably 25 years. You gotta hand it to the people at Red Heart. That stuff can't be destroyed. Better, I think I got the weaving-in-the-ends thing correct on that one because, from the looks of it, it's still a piece of iron--a solid piece of iron.
And then there was another crocheted blanket I made for another new baby. It was just single crochet in a nice blue. After I made the blanket, I went in and cross-stitched a Noah's ark theme on top of the fabric. It was sooooo cute. One thing I remember about it, though, is that I received a curious thank you note. It basically said: "thanks for making this but you shouldn't have. It is too warm out here for such an item. I'll put it in storage."
Such is the way of these things. We can't blame ourselves. Well, maybe I should blame myself for the one that fell apart, but this stuff happens. That Christmas one--the one that'll outlive us all--is an obvious success. All the others? Probably so. The fact that at one point they even got completed is, in of itself, a triumph. Have you noticed how many hand crafters never finish their projects?
They especially don't finish the big ones.
But this one. This one. This one makes me so happy.
It just started with a square I knit out of boredom.
And each day, without a plan, I made another square. Different sock yarn (all of it is sock yarn), same square. Some squares are with self-striping yarn, others are solid, semi-solid or self-patterning.
By the time that stack started to topple, I decided to count the squares. I didn't really want to stop and count because I thought it might stop me from enjoying the ride, but I knew that at some point, I'd have to know when it was time to begin thinking about how I'd put it all together. And with what color yarn.
My goal was to buy no new yarn for this and flying by the seat of my pants as it were, I knew I'd have to have enough of one color to connect all the squares.
Now that the blanket lives in strip form, I will start to connect the strips. Part of me doesn't want to finish it.
I don't know why. It's just that, when you spend so much time working on something that has given you so much joy, you don't want it to be over. Kind of like that car your dad worked on every weekend in the garage for years. The one that he dreamt about, befriended, reupholstered, and searched only for original parts when fixing it up and then finally having to give up working on it simply because it was "time."
It's like a tiny little death, you know?
To me, traveling has always been rife with the unknown, but in a bad way.
There was once a multi-week trip to Mexico on a Mexican train when I was about 10. Let's just say, it was the trip from heck. To list just a few items on the itinerary:
To say I'm not a good traveler is an understatement.
So, when I read Knitlandia: A Knitter Sees the World by Clara Parkes, I was awe struck. How does she do it? How does she watch and see and listen and view these adventures the way she does?
I read her chapter, "Perky Skeins and Fast Cars," about visiting Vogue Knitting Live for the first time in Los Angeles. Oddly enough, I was there! I was there the same time as Clara! For me, it was all about dealing with traffic and getting there in one piece (which doesn't really have anything to do with me; it's all Los Angeles' fault, friends), but for Clara, it was a totally different matter.
You'll read the chapter as I did, but what pleased me the most is the way she was able to step back and see the character of Los Angeles through a prism that I cannot see. To read her description of the way the show sailed in and sailed out the way you might see when you watch a play—you know how the sets just magically get torn down and put up in a flash? Well, that's just how she described it. And, she's right. I am so entrenched in this stuff that I have never stopped to watch it all and see it clearly with fresh eyes.
This book is a treasure.
I will be giving away a copy of this book. In comments, tell me your favorite/least-favorite adventure and I'll randomly choose a name!
Comments will be closed in one week. The giveaway is limited to US and Canada. - COMMENTS NOW CLOSED.
If you want to follow the blog tour for Knitlandia, here it is:
Feb 24: My Sister's Knitter
Feb 26: Mary Jane Muckelstone
Feb 29: Knit Circus
March 2: Yarniacs
March 4: Leethal
March 7: Tin Can Knits
March 17: Marly Bird Yarn Thing Podcast
Knitting square after square--I think you pretty much know that's all I've been up to lately--has made me realize that the act of knitting, a mundane activity on the surface, has a lot more to it.
Wait: Maybe I should listen to my inner-editor and instead of walking around a point, get to the point. What I mean to say is, "There's a lot more to knitting than what it appears to be on the surface."
A long time ago, someone wrote to me and asked me to send her all my odd balls of fingering/sock-weight yarn. I said I would. Somehow, either I lost her email or life got in the way, and all the balls stayed here in the house. Since then, and it's been at least six years, I kept it in the back of my mind--that I never sent her all my leftover yarn, and I felt bad.
All this time passed, and the other day I decided that I'd make a square. Just one square, because I hadn't ever made a log cabin square. I picked up some yarn I had leftover from a recent sock-knitting binge and got knitting. And as I knit up square after square, my mind drifted over to that Apple Store bag full of old sock yarn that I had hid away for that now unknown and semi-forgotten, would-be recipient.
I looked for it. I couldn't find it. I knew it had to be somewhere, but I just couldn't find it. I sat down another day or two, knitting squares from "recent" yarn, and looked for it again to no avail.
Then, on a lark, I looked in a completely unusual place: My daughter's closet, right up at the top and behind some junk. There it was.
I opened it up, and peered into the bag. Year's-old yarn looked back up at me. Most of it was stuff I didn't remember ever knitting with, but I knew that I must have. Why? It was all balled up, some of it caked, some of it ragged with Chuck's hair here and there. None of it weighed what it once did. So, I must have knit with it at some point, right?
Since then, I have knit square after square with this old, forgotten yarn.
And something happened.
As I knit the squares, this weird sensation started happening. Do you know when you wake up from a dream and you fully remember it but as the day goes on, you try and try to remember it and the images and memories keep sneaking away?
Or, you smell a scent. It could be pine or dust or something else, and it brings back a memory?
Or even driving along and an old song that you haven't heard in such a long time comes on the radio and it brings you back to a night in the front seat of an orange Bronco sitting next to a boy that you wish liked you back?
Knitting is like that. But it is tactile. Even though I don't remember exactly what each ball of yarn in that bag became, my fingers remember. I feel like, with each square I knit, that I'm chasing a memory.
And even though it is a little sad on the surface, it is fine by me.
Yesterday, we went to the local surf shop because Girlfriend needed new bushings for her skateboard. When we were there, she picked up a maroon knit cap, plopped it on, and asked: "Can I get this one, mom?"
Without skipping a beat, I said: "What, are you trying to insult me?"
Top-down cap in Wollmeise, for the win.
Stay tuned.
One thing that I can tell you for sure, is that from this point on, I will be weaving in my ends as I go.
Most of the time--especially with garments--I never ever weave in as I knit. Why? A couple of times I did just that and then ended up having the frog the entire shebang and deal with cutting out knots, finding where ends were woven in and losing a ton of yarn in the process, not to mention what I consider to be one of my better characteristics: Easy-going-ness. Ha.
So, I started, on a lark, knitting some log cabin squares. I haven't ever really knit a log cabin square so I poked around a bit and came up with what I thought was a wonky enough square that would lend itself to sock yarn leftovers that have color changes. I'm not a matchy-girl so it suits me just fine to knit the squares and have them look off kilter.
And so I knit.
And knit.
And I swear: I'm not bored. Just waiting for something to happen, if you know what I mean. Writers dabble in words or write whatever the heck comes to mind when the words don't come easy. Artists? I'm not much of one, but I bet they must have some exercise they do to get the juices flowing. Me? I guess I just knit squares.
Come to think of it, my last two books required that I knit hundreds of swatches. Square-shaped swatches. So there you go: Now that those two books are under my belt and the next one comes out this Spring, I'm back at knitting squares.
Call me an old dog, or maybe a horse that knows its way home when his rider falls off and dies or something. Or call me a homing pigeon, or one of those zany swallows that poops everywhere when they finally arrive back home.
Or maybe don't call me at all. I'm too busy with this thing.
All I have wanted to knit lately are socks. Socks socks socks and only socks. I forced myself to make a couple of hats lately, but since about November all I have wanted to knit are socks. I probably knit six or seven pair in the past couple of months. I even went through all of my half-knit socks that I have carried with me to and from the beach the past couple summers, shook the sand out of them, and finished them up.
I wanted to take a picture of all these socks but you know what? I gave almost all of them away. Three to HWWV, two to girlfriend, one to her best friend and now all I have left is the pair here and two others that are now lonely, waiting for friends.
Thing is, I feel guilty.
There are so many other things that I could be doing with my free time--and I have a lot of it these days--but in the end, I just want to knit socks.
Am I depressed? (I don't think so.) Is sock yarn addictive? Maybe so.
Which brings me to this: I had this idea to take my sock yarn leftovers and make log cabin blocks. I figure, even though I'm not making socks, I'm knitting with the sock yarn, so it's the next best thing, right?
Problem is, now all I want to do is knit these little sock-yarn blocks.
I am doomed, that much I can tell you.
BTW: The sock yarn that I used to make these socks is Opal Brazil yarn. It is discontinued, but I do swear by all the Opal sock yarns. The wear like iron.
Picture it: One day before Thanksgiving and a potentially 20-hour round trip in a car facing me. I will be the passenger. What does any self-respecting knitter do? Pack a project or two, or three.
Since I've been on a sock binge, I decided that I'd finish a pair of socks I was working on, so I packed it all in my project bag and placed it in the front seat.
And after I had about an hour under my belt in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I decided it was time to take it out and get knitting. To my dismay, I hadn't packed the completed sock to compare (and I didn't write down the measurement), and the one on the needles was just up to what might be the beginning of the toe shaping.
Should I wing it?
But what if the sock comes out a different length?
To my dismay, to be safe I just put the project away. Each mile was an agony. Never mind I brought another skein of sock yarn to work on. I was just too depressed.
So, after a great Thanksgiving weekend with family I rarely see, I faced yet another car trip home with nothing to do but stare out at a sea of vehicles. I even fantasized about taking out the near-finished sock and frogging it just to have something to do.
When I got home, I got down to the business of finding that other sock. I looked and I looked, but I couldn't find it. I looked at the floor of the car and under the seats to make sure I hadn't dropped it when I pulled out the project. To no avail, no matter what I did, I couldn't find the sock. I sat in my office watching Beverly Hills 90210 re-runs and meditating: Where was that dang sock?
Friends, it turns out there was never a completed sock.
There was only one sock: The one sock in my project bag. The one on the needles. I had gotten my self in such a lather about finishing the pair that I imagined I had finished the first sock.
I wasted almost 20 hours of driving with nothing to do. To boot, my husband (HWWV), after I told him the story, remarked, "I was wondering why you weren't knitting during the trip."
Ugh. I did finish the *first* sock today. Ugh Ugh Ugh.


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Gulp. How'd we get to the $22 cocktail?
J Thoendell stashed this in Food
Source: http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/...
The craft cocktail movement that bore this Manhattan emphasizes fine spirits, fresh juices and even thoughtful ice selections. It casts bartenders as skilled craftsmen. And over the past decade, it has delivered vast improvement over the baby-pool-size apple martinis and mojitos that once fetched $7 or $8. But as we tip the $12 mark, the $14 mark and $20 mark, the questions increasingly on the lips of diners and bargoers are: When did what's in our glass start making such a noticeable dent in our wallets? And why?
Stashed in: Alcohol!
To save this post, select a stash from drop-down menu or type in a new one:


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Governance and Organisation
The Council is the governing body of the School and has overall responsibility for its operational and strategic management.
Council members fulfil their roles in accordance with the constitutional document of this Higher Education Institution (HEI), its Royal Charter, and subject to regulations for the operation of an HEI as determined by government and other external agencies.
The School is defined under the Charities Act as an exempt Charity and is registered accordingly with HMRC (see Financial Statements for further details). Under the Charities Act 2011, the principal regulator for universities is the HEFCE, which is responsible for ensuring that Universities fulfil their obligations under Charity Law.
For further information please refer to:
- How to contact the School
- The Royal Charter (pdf)
- Committee Management Structure (pdf)
- Council Home Page - including constitution, terms of reference and membership of Council and its Sub-committees


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Base for Storage Shed
I recently purchased a 8'x6' storage shed. I want to put a good foundation down for it. I was thinking of putting down a slab of concrete, but I have quite a bit of cinder blocks piled up that I could possibly use. Is there any good ideas how I could use these in the construction of the base for the shed? Or just stick to the concrete slab? Thanks for your advice in this matter!
Not knowing where you are located, I would first check with the local building inspector or permit office. In my area you can erect up to 128 ft² shed without a concrete base without a permit. If you use concrete you can build only 64 ft² without a permit. You could use pressure treated timbers for the bearing points on a compacted gravel base. I would forget about the using the block.
I would put down a slab with a vapor barrier underneath. It will take that slab longer to harden and longer for the surface water to evaporate so you can finish it, so don't rush.
You are under size for the code so it doesn't apply. A footing is not a bad thing to have however.
What is your frost depth where you are? Take that into account. A floating slab, that size probably would be fine. I put 4 inch welded wire in mine.
In my area, they use a lot of these sheds and usually put them on a 4' x 4' grid of concrete post blocks which sit on the ground. This is much faster than laying a concrete pad, and allows for moving the whole thing easily too.
I should mention, that I don't use steel storage sheds due to the dewpoint rusting out anything that is within.
I pour the slab so it fits the walls exactly so there is no way for water to run underneath. I more often put the shed on plywood over 4x4's so it is raised off the concrete and that allows lifting with cranes and forklifts and removes the need of having footings regardless of the size of shed.
I hope I do not live downwind from the shed.
My son had one hit his house during a storm.
They obviously didn't have enough stuff in them! :)
Of course if you live in tornado country, you should build them stronger and tie them down like a standard house.
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Once I set up pop services Spiceworks hangs (I assume when it goes to the mailbox to look for emails so it can create tickets). Once I remove the pop server it no longer hangs.
I saw the other support email about doing the telnet test and I tried it and it worked so I am currently at a loss on what to try next. I am very anxious to get the ticket system working so any help would be appreciated.
1 Reply
· · ·
May 3, 2007 at 11:15 UTC
Did you find a resolution to this issue? If so, what was the fix? If not, what is the current status of this issue?


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Real Estate Marketing Franchise Territories #365354 posted Sep 17, 2014
- Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Real Estate Marketing franchise business for sale. This real estate marketing franchise requires no real estate license. It is, initially, a work from home business. The low cost to get started, coupled with franchisor support and training makes this a business to look into! If you are an experienced...
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text:
Dear Walmart
Dear Walmart,
It has come to my attention that due to a past black friday mob and the trampling of a Wal-Mart greeter that you now have an insurance policy on all of your greeters. I am also aware of who recieves the money, not the greeter or their estate. Tell me you at least use that money to buy the deseased a decent head stone and not one of those little placks. Do you send the families flowers? Do you actually write in the card or do you just send a generaic message typed out by your lawyers? Do you provide the deceased family with counciling or your employees who have endured or observed a trampling or other tragic event? Can your employees take a leave of absence if they die? Do you retain their souls if they pass on?
As an aside why did you get rid of layaway?
Yours Truly,