text:
Daughter, other kin questioned in Ossining teacher killing
Ossining Village police Lt.
William Sullivan
said the daughter,
Anne Trovato
, was taken in for questioning "as were many other family members, as we try to learn as much as we can about the victim." He did not say she was a suspect.
Patricia Mery , a Spanish teacher at Westhill High School in Stamford, Conn., was found dead on Mother's Day in her Ossining home when relatives asked police to check on her.
A day earlier, an anonymous telephone call to Westchester County's Child Protective Services reported a problem at Mery's address. Sullivan said the report was checked on but no one appeared to be home and police did not enter the house.
The Journal News reported Wednesday that Mery had filed a lawsuit in Family Court to gain increased visitation rights from her daughter.
Her lawyer, Beth Feder , said Mery "just wanted to see her granddaughter."
"After her visits, she was just so happy," Feder said. "She loved her granddaughter. And her daughter _ she loved her daughter, too. Absolutely. But, you know, people disagree about certain things."
Ossining police Chief Joseph Burton said police had occasionally been called to Mery's house "to investigate mother and daughter incidents, complaints." Mery and Trovato had lived together with the granddaughter until a few months ago.
Trovato now lives in Mount Pleasant, and the police chief there, Louis Alagno, said his department had responded to two complaints involving her, but he would not elaborate.


text:
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Meaning of 2 Year Old Climbing Out Of Crib At Night
Yearyear (yēr),USA pronunciation n.
Also, year in, year out.
- a period of 365 or 366 days, in the Gregorian calendar, divided into 12 calendar months, now reckoned as beginning Jan. 1 and ending Dec. 31(calendar year or civil year). Cf. common year, leap year.
- a period of approximately the same length in other calendars.
- a space of 12 calendar months calculated from any point: This should have been finished a year ago.
- Also called lunar year. a division of time equal to 12 lunar months.
- Also called astronomical year, equinoctial year, solar year, tropical year. a division of time equal to about 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, and 46 seconds, representing the interval between one vernal equinox and the next.
- Also called sidereal year. a division of time equal to the equinoctial year plus 20 minutes, representing the time required for the earth to complete one revolution around the sun, measured with relation to the fixed stars. Cf. anomalistic year.
- the time in which any planet completes a revolution round the sun: the Martian year.
- a full round of the seasons.
- a period out of every 12 months, devoted to a certain pursuit, activity, or the like: the academic year.
- years:
- age.
- old age: a man of years.
- time;
period: the years of hardship and frustration.
- an unusually long period of time of indefinite length: I haven't spoken to them in years.
- a group of students entering school or college, graduating, or expecting to graduate in the same year;
- a year and a day, a period specified as the limit of time in various legal matters, as in determining a right or a liability, to allow for a full year by any way of counting.
- from the year one, for a very long time;
as long as anyone remembers: He's been with the company from the year one.
- year in and year out, regularly through the years;
continually: Year in and year out they went to Florida for the winter.
Oldold (ōld),USA pronunciation adj., old•er, old•est or eld•er, eld•est, n.
- far advanced in the years of one's or its life: an old man; an old horse; an old tree.
- of or pertaining to the latter part of the life or term of existence of a person or thing: old age.
- as if or appearing to be far advanced in years: Worry had made him old.
- having lived or existed for a specified time: a man 30 years old; a century-old organization.
- having lived or existed as specified with relation to younger or newer persons or things: Jim is our oldest boy.
- having been aged for a specified time: This whiskey is eight years old.
- having been aged for a comparatively long time: old brandy.
- long known or in use: the same old excuse.
- overfamiliar to the point of tedium: That joke gets old fast.
- belonging to the past: the good old days.
- having been in existence since the distant past: a fine old family.
- no longer in general use: This typewriter is an old model.
- acquired, made, or in use by one prior to the acquisition, making, or use of something more recent: When the new house was built, we sold the old one.
- of, pertaining to, or originating at an earlier period or date: old maps.
- prehistoric;
ancient: There may have been an old land bridge between Asia and Alaska.
- (cap.) (of a language) in its oldest known period, as attested by the earliest written records: Old Czech.
- experienced: He's an old hand at welding.
- of long standing;
having been such for a comparatively long time: an old and trusted employee.
- (of colors) dull, faded, or subdued: old rose.
- deteriorated through age or long use;
worn, decayed, or dilapidated: old clothes.
- [Physical Geog.](of landforms) far advanced in reduction by erosion or the like.
- sedate, sensible, mature, or wise: That child seems old beyond his years.
- (used to indicate affection, familiarity, disparagement, or a personalization): good old Bob; that dirty old jalopy.
- (used as an intensive) great;
uncommon: a high old time.
- former;
having been so formerly: a dinner for his old students.
old′ness, n.
- (used with a pl. v.) old persons collectively (usually prec. by the): appropriations to care for the old.
- a person or animal of a specified age or age group (used in combination): a class for six-year-olds; a horse race for three-year-olds.
- old or former time, often time long past: days of old.
Climbingclimb (klīm),USA pronunciation v.i.
- to go up or ascend, esp. by using the hands and feet or feet only: to climb up a ladder.
- to rise slowly by or as if by continued effort: The car laboriously climbed to the top of the mountain.
- to ascend or rise: The plane climbed rapidly and we were soon at 35,000 feet. Temperatures climbed into the 80s yesterday.
- to slope upward: The road climbs steeply up to the house.
- to ascend by twining or by means of tendrils, adhesive tissues, etc., as a plant: The ivy climbed to the roof.
- to proceed or move by using the hands and feet, esp. on an elevated place;
crawl: to climb along a branch; to climb around on the roof.
- to ascend in prominence, fortune, etc.: From lowly beginnings he climbed to the highest office in the land.
- to ascend, go up, or get to the top of, esp. by the use of the hands and feet or feet alone or by continuous or strenuous effort: to climb a rope; to climb the stairs; to climb a mountain.
- to go to the top of and over: The prisoners climbed the wall and escaped.
- climb down:
- to descend, esp. by using both hands and feet.
- to retreat, as from an indefensible opinion or position: He was forced to climb down from his untenable position.
- climb the walls. See wall (def. 7).
climb′a•ble, adj.
- a climbing;
an ascent by climbing: It was a long climb to the top of the hill.
- a place to be climbed: That peak is quite a climb.
Outout (out),USA pronunciation adv.
- away from, or not in, the normal or usual place, position, state, etc.: out of alphabetical order; to go out to dinner.
- away from one's home, country, work, etc., as specified: to go out of town.
- in or into the outdoors: to go out for a walk.
- to a state of exhaustion, extinction, or depletion: to pump a well out.
- to the end or conclusion;
to a final decision or resolution: to say it all out.
- to a point or state of extinction, nonexistence, etc.: to blow out the candle; a practice on the way out.
- in or into a state of neglect, disuse, etc.;
not in current vogue or fashion: That style has gone out.
- so as not to be in the normal or proper position or state;
out of joint: His back went out after his fall.
- in or into public notice or knowledge: The truth is out at last.
- seeking openly and energetically to do or have: to be out for a good time.
- not in present possession or use, as on loan: The librarian said that the book was still out.
- on strike: The miners go out at midnight.
- so as to project or extend: to stretch out; stick your tongue out.
- in or into activity, existence, or outward manifestation: A rash came out on her arm.
- from a specified source or material: made out of scraps.
- from a state of composure, satisfaction, or harmony: to be put out over trifles.
- in or into a state of confusion, vexation, dispute, variance, or unfriendliness: to fall out about trifles.
- so as to deprive or be deprived: to be cheated out of one's money.
- so as to use the last part of: to run out of gas.
- from a number, stock, or store: to point out the errors.
- aloud or loudly: to cry out.
- with completeness or effectiveness: to fill out.
- thoroughly;
entirely: The children tired me out.
- so as to obliterate or make undecipherable: to cross out a misspelling; to ink out.
- all out, with maximum effort;
thoroughly or wholeheartedly: They went all out to finish by Friday.
- out and away, to a surpassing extent;
far and away;
by far: It was out and away the best apple pie she had ever eaten.
- out for, aggressively determined to acquire, achieve, etc.: He's out for all the money he can get.
- out from under, out of a difficult situation, esp. of debts or other obligations: The work piled up while I was away and I don't know how I'll ever get out from under.
- out of:
- not within: out of the house.
- beyond the reach of: The boat's passengers had sailed out of hearing.
- not in a condition of: out of danger.
- so as to deprive or be deprived of.
- from within or among: Take the jokers out of the pack.
- because of;
owing to: out of loyalty.
- foaled by (a dam): Grey Dancer out of Lady Grey.
- out of it, [Informal.]
- not part of or acceptable within an activity, social group, or fashion: She felt out of it because none of her friends were at the party.
- not conscious;
drunk or heavily drugged.
- not alert or clearheaded;
- eliminated from contention: If our team loses two more games, we'll be out of it.
- out of sight. See sight (def. 19).
- out of trim, (of a ship) drawing excessively at the bow or stern.
- not at one's home or place of employment;
absent: I stopped by to visit you last night, but you were out.
- not open to consideration;
out of the question: I wanted to go by plane, but all the flights are booked, so that's out.
- wanting;
without: We had some but now we're out.
- removed from or not in effective operation, play, a turn at bat, or the like, as in a game: He's out for the season because of an injury.
- no longer having or holding a job, public office, etc.;
disengaged (usually fol. by of ): to be out of work.
- inoperative;
extinguished: The elevator is out. Are the lights out?
- finished;
ended: before the week is out.
- not currently stylish, fashionable, or in vogue: Fitted waistlines are out this season.
- unconscious;
senseless: Two drinks and he's usually out.
- not in power, authority, or the like: a member of the out party.
- [Baseball.]
- (of a batter) not succeeding in getting on base: He was out at first on an attempted bunt.
- (of a base runner) not successful in an attempt to advance a base or bases: He was out in attempting to steal second base.
- beyond fixed or regular limits;
out of bounds: The ball was out.
- having a pecuniary loss or expense to an indicated extent: The company will be out millions of dollars if the new factory doesn't open on schedule.
- incorrect or inaccurate: His calculations are out.
- not in practice;
unskillful from lack of practice: Your bow hand is out.
- beyond the usual range, size, weight, etc. (often used in combination): an outsize bed.
- exposed;
made bare, as by holes in one's clothing: out at the knees.
- at variance;
at odds;
unfriendly: They are out with each other.
- moving or directed outward;
outgoing: the out train.
- not available, plentiful, etc.: Mums are out till next fall.
- external;
- located at a distance;
outlying: We sailed to six of the out islands.
- [Cricket.]not having its innings: the out side.
- of or pertaining to the playing of the first nine holes of an 18-hole golf course (opposed to in): His out score on the second round was 33.
- (used to indicate movement or direction from the inside to the outside of something): He looked out the window. She ran out the door.
- (used to indicate location): The car is parked out back.
- (used to indicate movement away from a central point): Let's drive out the old parkway.
- begone! away!
- (used in radio communications to signify that the sender has finished the message and is not expecting or prepared to receive a reply.) Cf. over (def. 61).
- [Archaic.](an exclamation of abhorrence, indignation, reproach, or grief (usually fol. by upon): Out upon you!
- a means of escape or excuse, as from a place, punishment, retribution, responsibility, etc.: He always left himself an out.
- a person who lacks status, power, or authority, esp. in relation to a particular group or situation.
- Usually, outs. persons not in office or political power (distinguished from ins).
- [Baseball.]a put-out.
- (in tennis, squash, handball, etc.) a return or service that does not land within the in-bounds limits of a court or section of a court (opposed to in).
- something that is out, as a projecting corner.
- [Print.]
- the omission of a word or words.
- the word or words omitted.
- [Northern Brit. Dial.]an outing.
- be on the or at outs with, to be estranged from (another person);
be unfriendly or on bad terms with: He is on the outs with his brother.
- to go or come out.
- to become public, evident, known, etc.: The truth will out.
- to make known;
utter (fol. by with): Out with the truth!
- to eject or expel;
- to intentionally expose (a secret homosexual, esp. a public figure).
Ofof1 (uv, ov; unstressed əv or, esp. before consonants, ə),USA pronunciation prep.
- (used to indicate distance or direction from, separation, deprivation, etc.): within a mile of the church; south of Omaha; to be robbed of one's money.
- (used to indicate derivation, origin, or source): a man of good family; the plays of Shakespeare; a piece of cake.
- (used to indicate cause, motive, occasion, or reason): to die of hunger.
- (used to indicate material, component parts, substance, or contents): a dress of silk; a book of poems; a package of cheese.
- (used to indicate apposition or identity): Is that idiot of a salesman calling again?
- (used to indicate specific identity or a particular item within a category): the city of Chicago; thoughts of love.
- (used to indicate possession, connection, or association): the king of France; the property of the church.
- (used to indicate inclusion in a number, class, or whole): one of us.
- (used to indicate the objective relation, the object of the action noted by the preceding noun or the application of a verb or adjective): the ringing of bells; He writes her of home; I'm tired of working.
- (used to indicate reference or respect): There is talk of peace.
- (used to indicate qualities or attributes): an ambassador of remarkable tact.
- (used to indicate a specified time): They arrived of an evening.
- [Chiefly Northern U.S.]before the hour of;
until: twenty minutes of five.
- on the part of: It was very mean of you to laugh at me.
- in respect to: fleet of foot.
- set aside for or devoted to: a minute of prayer.
- [Archaic.]by: consumed of worms.
Cribcrib (krib),USA pronunciation n., v., cribbed, crib•bing.
- a child's bed with enclosed sides.
- a stall or pen for cattle.
- a rack or manger for fodder, as in a stable or barn.
- a bin for storing grain, salt, etc.
- a translation, list of correct answers, or other illicit aid used by students while reciting, taking exams, or the like;
- plagiarism.
- a petty theft.
- a room, closet, etc., in a factory or the like, in which tools are kept and issued to workers.
- a shallow, separate section of a bathing area, reserved for small children.
- any confined space.
- a house, shop, etc., frequented by thieves or regarded by thieves as a likely place for burglarizing.
- any of various cellular frameworks of logs, squared timbers, or steel or concrete objects of similar form assembled in layers at right angles, often filled with earth and stones and used in the construction of foundations, dams, retaining walls, etc.
- a barrier projecting part of the way into a river and then upward, acting to reduce the flow of water and as a storage place for logs being floated downstream.
- a lining for a well or other shaft.
- one's home;
- [Cribbage.]a set of cards made up by equal contributions from each player's hand, and belonging to the dealer.
- a cheap, ill-kept brothel.
- a wicker basket.
- lunch, esp. a cold lunch carried from home to work and eaten by a laborer on the job;
- to pilfer or steal, esp. to plagiarize (another's writings or ideas).
- to confine in or as if in a crib.
- to provide with a crib or cribs.
- to line with timber or planking.
- to use a crib in examinations, homework, translating, etc.
- to steal;
- (of a horse) to practice cribbing.
Atat1 (at; unstressed ət, it),USA pronunciation prep.
- (used to indicate a point or place occupied in space);
in, on, or near: to stand at the door; at the bottom of the barrel.
- (used to indicate a location or position, as in time, on a scale, or in order): at zero; at age 65; at the end; at the lowest point.
- (used to indicate presence or location): at home; at hand.
- (used to indicate amount, degree, or rate): at great speed; at high altitudes.
- (used to indicate a direction, goal, or objective);
toward: Aim at the mark. Look at that.
- (used to indicate occupation or involvement): at work; at play.
- (used to indicate a state or condition): at ease; at peace.
- (used to indicate a cause or source): She was annoyed at his stupidity.
- (used to indicate a method or manner): He spoke at length.
- (used to indicate relative quality or value): at one's best; at cost.
- be at (someone), to be sexually aggressive toward (a person): She's pregnant again because he's at her morning, noon, and night.
- where it's at, [Informal.]the place where the most interesting or exciting things happen: Emma says that Rome is definitely where it's at now.
Nightnight (nīt),USA pronunciation n.
- the period of darkness between sunset and sunrise.
- the beginning of this period;
- the darkness of night;
the dark.
- a condition or time of obscurity, ignorance, sinfulness, misfortune, etc.: the long night of European history known as the Dark Ages.
- (sometimes cap.) an evening used or set aside for a particular event, celebration, or other special purpose: a night on the town; poker night; New Year's Night.
- night and day, unceasingly;
continually: She worked night and day until the job was done.
night′less, adj.
- of or pertaining to night: the night hours.
- occurring, appearing, or seen at night: a night raid; a night bloomer.
- used or designed to be used at night: to take a night coach; the night entrance.
- working at night: night nurse; the night shift.
- active at night: the night feeders of the jungle.
night′less•ly, adv.
night′like′, adj.
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text:
Emeralds Included: A Jana Bibi Adventure
Feathers fly and cultures clash as the Jolly Grant House prepares to welcome a special delivery from Scotland
In the third installment of the Jana Bibi series, Betsy Woodman takes us back to the Jolly Grant house for the arrival of Jana's son, Jack, from Scotland, and his Hungarian bride-to-be, Katarina Esterhazy. The whole gang is excited to welcome their international visitorsand Jana is determined to repair the house to Jack's high standards and those of her grandfather, from whom she inherited the eccentric building. But this puts a strain on Jana, both emotionally and financially, and she risks her most prized and valuable possessionthe (surprisingly real!) emeralds she got from the Treasure Emporiumto help her through it.
Jana saved the town from a government dam in Jana Bibi's Excellent Fortunes and foiled an international bird-smuggling ring in Love Potion Number 10, but in Emeralds Included, Jana faces her biggest challenges yet: preparing for her son's arrival and planning a wedding in the upside-down town of Hamara Nagar!
Product Details
|Holt, Henry & Company, Inc.
|Publication date:
|Jana Bibi Adventures Series , #3
|Product dimensions:
|5.90(w) x 8.30(h) x 1.00(d)
About the Author
Betsy Woodman is the author of Jana Bibi's Excellent Fortunes and Love Potion Number 10. She spent ten childhood years in India, studied in France, Zambia, and the United States, and now lives in her native New Hampshire. She has contributed nonfiction pieces and several hundred book reviews to various publications, and was a writer and editor for the award-winning documentary series, Experiencing War, produced for the Library of Congress and aired on Public Radio International.
Read an Excerpt
Best Foot Forward
News from Glasgow
Bundled up in a heavy cardigan over a wool pullover over a warm jersey, Jana took Jack's letter and settled down in the window seat of the salon of the Jolly Grant House. She was grateful for the midafternoon sun streaming in. Her son's dutiful missives from Scotland had become quite scarce recently, and she'd wondered why. Had he been sick? Working too hard at that engineering job?
A moment later, she did a double take. Had Jack really used the word "marvelous"? That was pretty gushy for him. She reread: "We plan to be . . ." There it was, in plain, unmistakable English and Jack's strong, forward-slanting handwriting.
"Mr. Ganguly!" she cried. "Jack's going to be married."
Her parrot detected the excitement in her voice; he picked up on any emotion, good or bad. He stopped tearing at the knot in the rope dangling from the roof of his cage, flapped his emerald-green wings, and cried, "Jack zindabad!"
"Yes," said Jana, "long live Jack!"
She turned back to the letter and read on, hungry for details. Just who was the lady who had captured her son's heart? Here, in her small town high in the Himalayas, more than four thousand miles away from Jack, Jana was not able to pepper him with questions and get immediate answers.
The things Jack saw fit to mention or omit in letters never ceased to amaze her. Such as the big promotion he had gotten at his engineering firm the year before—six months had gone by before he'd modestly sent her a tiny printed announcement.
So, how long ago had he met . . . ah, here was her name. Katarina. Katarina Esterhazy. Goodness, Jana wondered, what nationality is she?
Jack, obligingly if surprisingly, had anticipated this question. "She's Hungarian, but she's been here several years. She got out by the skin of her teeth in 1956."
Well, wasn't this all most intriguing! Her more-Scottish-than-thou son was marrying an Eastern European who had escaped from behind the Iron Curtain, and not one of the young women he met at dinner parties around Glasgow.
"As an unattached male," Jack had once revealed, "one is invited to fill in more often than one might expect."
Jana could well imagine the invitations coming in fast and furious. And why not? Jack Laird was definitely a catch. She considered his assets: the MacPherson castle outside Glasgow and the MacPherson fortune, first-class degrees in all his studies, the solid position with the established engineering firm. Not to mention extremely pleasant good looks, if she did say so herself. Jack was a highly successful combination of his American father's sandy hair and athletic build, Jana's good bone structure, and his own steady gray-blue eyes.
Granted, Jack was reserved, even a bit shy, and that could be a drawback when looking for a mate. She wondered whether Katarina was outgoing and had managed to coax Jack out of his shell. Or perhaps Katarina too was shy, and the two of them had been drawn to each other's quiet ways. Had it been a case of opposites attracting or similar people finding that they saw the world the same way?
Moreover, what did Katarina look like? Jack, the wretch, hadn't even put in a photograph. "Hungarian" conjured up two contradictory images in Jana's mind—people fleeing with battered suitcases, and the ultra-sultry Zsa Zsa Gabor, blond with prominent cheekbones and a come-hither look in her eye. If my son has fallen in love with a Zsa Zsa Gabor, Jana mused, he's seeking the opposite of me. She glanced into the mirror at a hazel-eyed woman of sixty, whose olive-colored skin and braided curly hair did not often see the inside of a beauty salon. Plus, she usually dressed for comfort rather than style—layers of sensible Western clothing in winter, salwar kameez in summer. Not exactly Zsa Zsa's evening gowns, with their plunging décolleté.
Jana flipped over the aerogramme and found even more news. "We're hoping that a visit in mid-May would be convenient for you," Jack had written.
"Hoorah," Jana cried. "High time!"
"High time!" Mr. Ganguly repeated.
"Come on, Mr. G," said Jana, "let's go tell Mary."
A moment later, the parrot was on her shoulder and they were heading out of the house to the detached kitchen on the far edge of the side yard.
Mary, at this moment, was not ideally situated for getting big news. She was absorbed in cleaning a chicken she'd bought this morning from the wallah who came around twice a week, shortly after sunup. Fortunately, Mary did not have to behead the chicken; the wallah did that beforehand, as a special favor. However, she still needed to pluck it and remove its entrails, a messy job. The large canvas apron she wore over her old white work sari was spattered with red, like the abstract paintings one saw in the Illustrated Weekly of India.
Mary was a sturdy South Indian woman with a round face, dark eyes, and a smattering of pox scars across her cheekbones. Strands of black hair now escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck. Brandishing a blood-smeared knife, she was an intimidating sight.
On seeing the pair of disembodied chicken feet on the floor—or maybe it was Mary with the knife—Mr. Ganguly went into a series of piercing screeches. Jana beat a hasty retreat back into the side yard. Mary wiped her knife on her apron, took the apron off, rinsed her hands, and came out, too.
Meanwhile, the noise brought the other members of the household up from various corners of the compound. Twelve-year-old Tilku appeared first, followed by old Munar, the sweeper, his broom of long reeds in his hand. Last of all, a very groggy Lal Bahadur Pun arrived; Jana felt bad about interrupting the Gurkha's sleep, since he'd been up all night at his watchman's post, keeping them all safe. At least this let her tell everyone the news at the same time.
She looked around at the circle of puzzled faces and said, "Everybody—I have an announcement. Something you will be happy about." She paused to give them a chance to guess.
"Madam is getting married," said Lal Bahadur Pun and Mary together.
Jana burst into laughter; she knew that this was their fondest hope. Their faces fell when she said, "No, not me. But . . ."
Mary's glance fell on the aerogramme Jana still had in her hand. "Jack sahib?"
There was a chorus of "Jack sahib ki jai!" and "Mubarak ho!" and Tilku did a couple of dance steps. Then came a burst of questions: "Where, Jana mem? When? Who is the lady?"
"I'm not sure when," said Jana. "I think in Scotland, though."
Tilku did not let a lack of information deter him from making suggestions. He said brightly, "We will all fly to U.K. in an airplane and go to the wedding, yes? Maybe one of those double-decker planes, where one can sit upstairs or down." Tilku, who aimed to be a pilot, collected pictures of aircraft.
Lal Bahadur Pun announced, "Yes, the best thing is for us all to go to the U.K. I will compose a tune and play pipes for the wedding march."
Munar merely murmured, "Wedding, good. Thanks be to God."
Mary, however, weighed in forcefully with her own idea: "They should come here for their wedding. And then they should stay forever."
"I don't know if we can talk them into having the wedding here," Jana said, "but they are coming for a visit, soon."
This brought another round of cheers.
"When?" Mary demanded to know. "When are they coming?"
"In May, if all goes well," said Jana.
"Good." Mary grinned broadly in anticipation. "By then it will be nice and warm."
"But I'll be in boarding school!" Tilku wailed. "This is no good! How can they come then?"
"You can see them on term break," Jana said. "Or maybe they could go visit you at your school. Don't worry, we'll figure it out. You won't miss everything."
Meanwhile, Mary was mulling over another problem. "Jana mem," she said, "where will they stay? Jack sahib stayed at the hotel last time he came."
Jana hesitated barely a second. "They're staying here," she said firmly. "Mary, when you're finished with the chicken, shall we go around the whole house and see what we need to do to get ready?"
She went back into the house to look for the clipboard and a pencil and pad of paper and swapped her cardigan for a coat. When she'd moved into the Jolly Grant House, almost two years earlier, she'd done a lot of repairs, not to mention chasing out the troop of monkeys that had been there for years, and cleaning up the mess they had created. She spent lots of money before she even moved in, but the lower two floors of the lookout tower had never received any attention. The second year she was in residence, a pipe had burst in the large main room that served as her living room, dining room, and fortune-telling salon, and a good number of rupees had gone just to get things back to scratch.
This year, she vowed, the house was going to be perfect. It was going to be up to the standard of her meticulous, observant son, and it was going to give a wonderful welcome to her Hungarian future daughter-in-law. The house and all the people in it would put their best foot forward.
A Prayer to Grandfather Jolly
By the time Mary had found Jana at the front gate of the compound, a cold February wind had come up and the shadows were lengthening. Jana tried to write with her gloves on, finally getting too annoyed and stuffing the gloves into her coat pocket. Mr. Ganguly was plucking at a strand of her hair.
"It's a good thing Jack and Katarina aren't coming until May," Jana said to Mary. "I don't see any way to put central heating in this house. Any affordable way, that is."
She was already realizing that "perfection" was a relative term. Perfection in Hamara Nagar was not what perfection in Delhi would be, or Scotland, let alone some far-off paragon of luxury such as America.
"Still," she said to Mary, "we want to make things as pukka and comfortable as possible."
Jana tried to put herself in the shoes of a complete stranger—Katarina's shoes—and see everything about her home as if for the first time. Stepping out into the street, she cast her gaze on the ornamental wall surrounding the entire compound, the brick pillars flanking the metal front gate, and the shiny brass plaque engraved with "Jolly Grant House, 1890." All seemed in order until she took a close look at the sign that read, "Jana Bibi's Excellent Fortunes." In just two years, sun and rain had taken their toll. The feathers of the parrot pictured in the corner had gone from brilliant emerald to pale yellow, and the ruby-red beak had turned pinkish gray.
"We can't have fading paint, can we now, Mr. Ganguly?" Jana said. "We want the sign to look as good as you do." Also, she was struggling to dispel a niggling worry that her future daughter-in-law might be put off by her small fortune-telling business. She hoped that Jack had already explained it to his fiancée.
Next, she stepped through the gate to survey the general appearance of the house and felt a rush of affection for this fantasy designed by her maternal grandfather, Ramsay "Jolly" Grant. The exuberant spirit of old Jolly seemed present in the lattices and gables and verandahs, and in the six-sided tower attached to the southeast corner.
People in town were proud of this eccentric structure; all one had to tell a team of rickshaw pullers or a porter was "Grant sahib's house" and they knew where to go, even though old Jolly had been dead for fifty years. Jana's friend Rambir, writing in the local newspaper, had mentioned the house as one of the historic spots that tourists should visit (and get their cards read in the bargain).
Of course, the sniffier side of Jana's family had always referred to the place as "Grant's Folly." Jana's paternal grandfather, James MacPherson, had described it as an "Indo-Hebridean vulgarity"—without ever having seen the place in person.
No one, however, regardless of their taste in architecture, could deny that the setting was majestic. The red corrugated roofs of the house and the conical hat of the tower made a romantic silhouette against the forested hills and the enormous expanse of sky.
"Jana mem," Mary said, bringing her back to her immediate surroundings. "Courtyard needs weeding."
"Oh, Mary, of course you're right," Jana said. "It always needs weeding. Why are weeds so much quicker than people?" Her eye fell on a broken flowerpot and then strayed to the bench, which was encrusted with bird droppings.
She added "Clean up courtyard" to the list.
"All right, let's go inside," Jana said, and she and Mary went through the ornately carved wooden front door. Jana reached for the old-fashioned light switch.
"Light bulb out in chandelier," she wrote. "Umbrella stand broken. Coat rack too small. Wall needs touch-up paint."
They crossed to the far end of that hall, where a short passageway jutted off diagonally toward the tower. Through a door that also needed paint, they entered a large, echoing room, which had an exit on the far wall to provide access to the side yard and cookhouse. Mary crossed the room and tugged on the door, which finally opened with a long, complaining screech.
"This door always sticks, Jana mem," Mary said. "It's hard to go in and out when you're carrying a tray of food."
Jana went around the perimeter of the room trying to open the ten pairs of French windows; the curly wrought-iron handle of one of them fell off in her hand. She grimaced at the peeling paint of the frames and grimly jotted down "Replace all windows in dining room."
Then she stood in the middle of the huge room, with a sudden pang of nostalgia for things she had never seen but had only heard about.
"My grandfather gave dinner parties in this room," Jana said. "Big tamashas."
Jana herself had not had anything resembling a dinner party since she had moved to the Jolly Grant House. Everything about such a project, from making up the guest list to planning the menu, intimidated her.
Her favorite people in the town were of varying faiths, tastes, and dietary restrictions. No meat for some; no eggs for others. Many eschewed alcohol—at least in theory. Editor Rambir and his science teacher wife, Ritu, would certainly accept food cooked on her premises; the more conservative Ramachandran, probably only a piece of fruit. While her Anglo-Indian optometrist, Mr. Niel Powell, would love bacon, her Muslim neighbors Hajji Feroze Ali Khan and his wife, Zohra, would sooner starve than touch it.
Someday, when she solved all the possible problems surrounding what to serve to which combination of people, she would give a party. Maybe even a big one, preceded by cocktails! And bring in the string band from the Victory Hotel, to add to the ambience.
For the foreseeable future, however, she would at least have nice family meals with Jack and Katarina. When they arrived, she couldn't just do what she did when alone, which was to shove aside her music papers or fortune-telling cards on the salon table, make space for a plate, and then eat while reading a book.
"It's time to fix this room up," she said firmly. "Don't you think, Mary?"
Mary agreed. The clipboard list grew: Replaster and paint walls. Fix pockmark in floor. Buy curtains—table—chairs—sideboard.
"Well!" said Jana. "On to the next!"
They climbed the stairs to the second level of the tower, Mary puffing a little and Jana feeling a tug at her knees. Upstairs, the six-sided contours of the floor matched those of the dining room below. This room too had decrepit windows, and the ceiling paint was peeling, although that didn't seem to bother the lizards that stuck up there as if with glue.
The landing also gave onto two small empty rooms. Holes in the wall and sealed-off pipes were evidence that they had been the WC and bath for the larger room. This must have been a very nice guest suite when her grandfather Grant had lived in the house. Well, it would be again, Jana decided.
"We'll put Katarina here," she said.
"And Jack sahib?" Mary said. "Where will he sleep?"
"We could clean out the storage room on the basement level," Jana said tentatively.
"No, madam." Mary said "madam" to Jana only when being emphatic or disapproving. "There is no European WC there. And Tilku will make noise."
Jana ignored this reference to the squat toilet. She pointed out, "Tilku will be away at school."
"Munar will make noise," Mary said implacably. "He snores like a bear. No. Servants' quarters are not for Jack sahib."
"Oh!" said Jana, put in her place. "The lookout room, then. Let's go look at it."
Up the final flight of stairs they went, to a sunny hexagonal room with a warm brown wooden ceiling. There was ample space for a bed, Jana decided, on this highest level of the tower. All they needed to do was shift the armchairs and side tables, bring in a luggage rack, and voilà, Jack would have his own domain, out of the mainstream of the household comings and goings. The relative quiet, the views of the gorges and hills on one side and the streets of Central Bazaar on the other—all this would make very nice guest quarters for her private, reserved son.
However, he would have to travel to the main floor for a bathroom—or use Katarina's? He wouldn't actually have to go through her room, Jana decided. Satisfied that the logistics were possible and proper, Jana asked Mary, "What do you think? Would Jack enjoy being up here in the lookout room?"
"Cent percent!" was Mary's verdict. "We will have first-class quarters for both Jack sahib and the lady he is going to marry. Also, I will make first-class food when they come. Like a ten-star hotel. Twenty-star, even." Her eyes gleamed.
She loves a challenge, Jana said to herself. It's a good thing, too; she's had quite a few of them working for me. Mary had been Jana's ayah when Jana's children were small; soon, she'd taken over the cooking; and now, in addition to that, she was a relentlessly efficient and thrifty housekeeper. The word "servant" didn't begin to explain what Mary was: the Rock of Gibraltar.
Mary went off to see whether Tilku was stirring the chicken stew, as ordered, and Jana was left in the lookout room. She stood by the west window and watched the sun sink from the darkening sky into the gray and mauve bands of the winter horizon. Then she switched on the lamp, went to the low cabinet beneath one window, and poured herself a small cordial glass of LPN10. The tonic that had made the local pharmacist famous had turned out to be a delicious aperitif, too. She settled back in one of the easy chairs and thought some more about the implications of undertaking a new round of renovations.
Just think of the expense, said a small, sensible voice in her head. Just think of the bother. Oh, shut up, she told the small voice. You can't let this marvelous old house slide into ruin. Because that's what houses do, if you're not constantly improving them. If you're not going forward, you're going backward.
Plus, a spiffier house made it much easier to be hospitable. Hospitality—wasn't that was houses were for?
Why, her grandfather Grant had built a whole separate annex for guests. Sold off long ago, that building now housed Ramachandran's Treasure Emporium, beloved by tourists and by Jana herself for its mix of priceless antiques and formidable junk. In Jolly's time, scholars and artists and philosophers, Europeans of all stripes, and Indians rich and poor had stayed there—sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks.
It was an article of faith to old Jolly that Germans and Frenchmen could get along, and (Lord help us) even Englishmen and Irishmen. He broke the ice by serving excellent food and drink, bringing in crates of champagne and caviar and olives and cheese by muleback, even before the motor road to Hamara Nagar was built.
Emulating the emperor Akbar, he'd hosted leisurely conversations between a Muslim imam, a Hindu scholar, and a Jesuit priest, keeping them happy with the best of tea and coffee and whatever delicacies their religions allowed them to eat.
Hospitality was his religion. In a letter to a friend, he wrote: "In both the Bible and the Qur'an, does not the prophet Abraham kill the fatted calf for his guests? And don't the Upanishads say, 'Guest is God'?"
Dear Grandfather Jolly, Jana now said to the memory of her generous ancestor, I have not yet lived up to your standard in hospitality. But from this point on, I promise you, I'm going to try harder. I will first set the stage.
A Fuse
Late that night, Jana tried to get the list of needed home repairs out of her mind. At least her own bedroom, directly above the salon in the main part of the house, was in good shape. She looked around it gratefully, shed her layers of clothing, and wrapped herself in a woolly robe.
Then she went into her clean but stark bathroom. Not many modern comforts there, but at least the single aging pipe usually delivered an adequate supply of water. She righted the tin tub that had been propped up in the corner, slid it across the bare cement floor, and positioned it under the tap. When the tub was full, she dipped a finger in and grimaced. Icy! It would take a good long while for it to heat up. She got the immersion heater down from the alcove in the wall and plugged it in. Immediately, there was a nasty little spit of electricity from the outlet, and Jana found herself plunged into darkness.
"Oh, blast," she said. "Not again."
She pulled the plug from the outlet and tucked the heating coil into its cubbyhole, then groped her way back to her bedroom, where she found her flashlight in the bedside table drawer. The faltering little beam lasted for about five seconds, just long enough for her to locate her bedroom slippers.
Now in pitch-darkness, she heard some activity on the ground floor of the house. Mary's voice floated up the staircase.
"Power has gone, Jana mem."
"Yes, I know," Jana said. "And so has my torch."
"I have a candle, Jana mem."
A few moments later, Mary appeared, holding a candlestick with a burning taper. Her black hair was unloosed, reaching almost to her waist; the kohl that usually rimmed her eyes was smudged.
"I was washing my face," Mary said. "And pfft—no light."
Jana followed Mary down to the ground floor and out to the cookhouse, where Lal Bahadur Pun was already up on a ladder, inspecting the fuse box.
"Khatm hogya," the Gurkha announced. "Gone. Finished. See, this looks all black."
"Have we got another?" Jana said.
"This is the last one, madam," Lal Bahadur Pun said. "I can put a one-anna coin in place until morning."
"Won't that be dangerous?" Jana asked.
"Not if we are careful," said the Gurkha. "Don't turn the lights on. And don't use the hot water coil or the electric hot plate."
"I do very little cooking at this hour of the night," Mary said dryly.
"No coin in the fuse box, I think," said Jana. "We'll get along without power tonight. Thank you, Subedar-Major."
Back in her room, she put on her pajamas and a thick sweater, snuggled down beneath the blankets and quilts, and blew out the candle. No reading in bed this evening, nor listening to All India Radio. She settled down to sleep.
In the morning, she took up the clipboard again and added to the list of improvements: hot-water tank. It was the dratted heating coils that always blew the fuses. Besides, she regularly gave herself an electric shock when she dipped her finger in the bathwater before taking the immersion heater out.
"We can't have Jack and Katarina electrocuting themselves with bucket baths," Jana said to Mary. "And there should be a hot-water spigot downstairs, too. As for the cookhouse—just think how much easier running hot water would make the washing up."
"If we get a tank, we also need new pipes," said Mary.
"I suppose you're right," Jana said, and added "hot-water pipes" to her list.
Copyright © 2014 by Betsy Woodman
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by 03/29/2017on
I leased a 2017 Volkswagon Tiguan on Monday. It snowed the following two days, so I did not drive it the two days after I picked it up. So, the first day driving it (Thursday) I drove it to work. On the way home from work the car broke down. Five different lights were flashing and it was not accelerating. I had to pull over as much as a could and I called the road side assistance. It took them two hours to get there. I called VW Braintree (where I got the car) and they said to have it towed and dropped off there and to call back in the morning because they were closing soon. The next day I did not receive one call from the company to update me on my BRAND NEW CAR that had broke down. I called them three times and each time they said they would call me back and tell me what was wrong. THEY NEVER DID. So I had to get a ride to the dealership. They told me it was the throttlebody (without explaining to me what exactly that is). They said they were going to fix it and that it "shouldn't happen again, but we can't promise anything." The manager said to call him the next day and he will figure out what he can do for me. I've called him three times and left messages and NO CALL BACK. Needless to say, I have never experienced a place that is so unprofessional. No one called me to apologize that my brand new car had [non-permissible content removed] the bed, no one called me to actually tell me what was wrong. Worst car dealership I have ever been to.
check please
by 03/23/2012on
On the market for a 2012 VW Passat TDI SE, it was sold out everywhere I been to. As a last resort I e-mailed them just for the heck of it. Got an answer back within minutes, I gave them my number, they not only matched and lowered it by a couple of hundred dollars. I went in around 7pm and was greeted by Jason Thompson the GM, drove away with a Night Blue Metallic with beige Passat within 2 hours. Great experience!!!!
Great Buying Experience
by 01/03/2012on
I found this dealership easy to deal with, very upfront and no nonesense. I have purchased many vehicles but this was my first from Quirk. They respected me and they respected my time. They made me a very fair deal (both new car price and trade value) and earned my business. I would purchase from them again and I would recommend them (my salesperson was Al Whelan)
The worst
by 06/30/2011on
DO NOT; I repeat, DO NOT buy a car from this dealership. Quirk VW sold me a car that they represented as new and fully covered by a three-year warranty and a carefree maintenance agreement. But when I went for service at a different dealership, the VW database reported that the car was put "in service" six months before I bought it, so the carefree maintenance was void and 6 months of warranty were spent, before I even took delivery! It's been 11 months of frustration trying to get this fixed, without resolution. Stay away from Quirk. Stay far away.
Best sales experience ever
by 05/08/2010on
We bought a new Passat from these guys and it was absolutely the best car buying experience ever. No hassles, no haggling. We picked out a car, the salesman quoted a price well below sticker. We wrote the check and went back the next day to pick up the car. We'll be going back in a few weeks for another car. It's a bit of a drive for us but they were recommended by friends and with good reason.
easy to get prices
by 12/07/2009on
I have emailed dealers for prices of cars in stock many times over the past years. Usually, that either gets you a phone call asking you to come down (like you didn't know you could just go to the dealer), or they respond with the full sticker price. Quirk actually emailed me right back with a price that was significantly reduced. I haven't decided to purchase or not, but I am impressed with their being straight forward.
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text:
When the bombing he committed, which injured 29 New Yorkers but failed to actually kill anyone, Trump spoke out against Muslim terror, saying "We better get very tough, folks. We better get very, very tough."
As Steve Sailer noted (NEW YORK TIMES Editorial Board Frontlashes Against Deplorable Bombophobes) the New York Times immediately spoke out for it:
The NYT Editorialists take time out from warning us of the constant threat of Mass Shootings by Dylann Roof types to urge everybody not to react to the bombs in its circulation zone.Which of course they were—Obama, Mrs. Clinton, and their party all support mass Muslim immigration—Trump opposes it. The New York Times went on:
Twitter erupted, which is what Twitter does. Donald Trump told a crowd there had been a bombing and we had to get tough, folks. A sideshow battle blew up over who had been quickest to call it, as if this were some game show or reality TV. Gov. Chris Christie of New Jersey, who has sequestered his reason and decency so he can flack for Mr. Trump, used the Chelsea blast to attack Hillary Clinton on Sunday TV, darkly suggesting that she and her party, and the president, were somehow responsible….
The right response to this constant, unending, low-level threat of sudden violence is to stay vigilant and reasonable, to clean up the damage, care for the injured, look out for one another, and elect leaders who will address the challenge with sanity and good judgment. And avoid the wrong responses: A police-state overreaction would be equally damaging in its own way by adding to the intolerance and suspicion that can foster radicalization, isolation and hatred.The "vigilance" they're calling for wasn't against Muslim terrorists, it was against normal American with normal ideas about Muslim immigration—and their candidate, Donald Trump.
Reason And Vigilance After The Blast, By The Editorial Board, September 18, 2016


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Christmas Is Murder (Rex Graves Series #1)
- Want it by Monday, October 1 Order now and choose Expedited Shipping during checkout.
Christmasismurder…when you're stranded with a killer
Not even a blizzard can keep Rex Graves away from Swanmere Manor, a secluded Victorian hotel in the English countryside owned by the eccentric Dahlia Smithings. But instead of Christmas cheer, the Scottish barrister finds a dead guest. Was it a stroke that killed old Mr. Lawdry? Or an almond tart laced with poison?
When more guests die, all hopes for a jolly holiday are dashed. Snowbound and terrified, no one can escape the cold-blooded killer. Rex takes it upon himself to unravel the mystery. A biography of President George W. Bush found charred in the fireplace might offer a few clues. Could the killer be the sherry-swilling handyman? The gay antiques dealer with the biting wit? The quarreling newlyweds? Surely it's not Helen D'Arcy, the lovely lass Rex seems to be falling for...
Product Details
|Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
|Publication date:
|Rex Graves Series , #1
|Sales rank:
|Product dimensions:
|5.19(w) x 8.00(h) x (d)
About the Author
C.S. Challinor (Florida) was educated in England and Scotland, and has traveled extensively. Her short stories have been published in women's magazines in the United States and the United Kingdom.
Customer Reviews
Average Review
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
I want my reading to be fun, and this cozy mystery, set in a snowbound English inn, was an enjoyable book. The characters are interesting, and diverse,and mostly fleshed out well enough to seem real. I must admit though, that the physical description of the hero, Rex Graves, does make me wonder what makes him so immediately attractive to the women. Maybe the next book in the series will make this clearer to me. (Yes, I will be reading more by this author.) I was pretty certain early on that I knew who the murderer was, but I was only partly right. The ending had a twist that I was not expecting. If you like your mysteries to be entertaining, have likeable characters, and not have a lot of grizzly details about the crimes, this book would be a good choice for you.
This is one of the best mysteries I read in 2008.
A quick read finished the book in 2 days...caught my attention from page one. If you like cozy mysteries this is the book for you...
This book is reminiscent of Ten Little Indians and other books where you start out with a group of people who are systematically murdered. I was disappointed in this work. In fact, I only took two things away from reading it: the author dislikes Americans and she likes Agatha Christie. This book was obviously written by an Agatha Christie want-to-be but didn't have her level of sophistication. I found it hard to get past the negative comments about Americans....the comments were extremely distracting. Through out the first half of the book, I kept debating just not finishing it but I try to always complete a book once I have started it. I can honestly say that I will never read another work by this author.
It gave me something to read that wasn't that bad but I was not crazy about the character sorry
First, let me say, I give this a 2.5 rating. Nice little cozy, but several problems. It is jumpy, as other reviewers have pointed out. And a few too many Americanisms. I liked the Rex character (although he seemed to be tailored after Hamish MacBeth), and he could have been fleshed out a bit more. Four stars for the basics. Major problems with the various plot developments. First, it is obvious immediately who the intended victim was. Second, none of the supposed red herrings were fully developed. But the unforgivable thing is that when the reason for the murder was revealed, the reader is left scratching her head, and thinking, "Huh? You must be joking." Very, very thin, and somewhat ridiculous. A little more depth is called for in all aspects. (And do have a British person do a quick edit for lingo inaccuracies -- I don't care how long the author lived in the UK -- her Yankeeism is showing.) Having written this, the series does hold promise as an enjoyable cozy series. I have plans to read the second installment.
A good story and Rex is a great character
Makes many nasty remarks about america and her president. Simple plot.
Starred review from Booklist


text:
Please Help.mywebsearch & Pos. Others
Open Mozilla Firefox, at the top right corner of the main window, click the Firefox menu, in the opened menu, click the Open Help Menu icon, Select Troubleshooting Information. Uninstall BringMeSports, GameTap Web Player, Guffins Toolbar, My Web Search (Popular Screensavers) applications using Control Panel. The Mywebsearch.com website is not related to virus or spyware infections, however, redirects to this website are a consequence of reckless free software installation (commonly, Mindspark browser toolbars). As AdwCleaner tries to delete these malicious content it will also clean the Internet Explorer, Google Chrome and Mozilla Firefox browser. have a peek here
You can download AdwCleaner from the below link. When you see the file, right click, and choose Reset. Click 'I Understand'. Step 10 : To remove Mysearch.com registry entries with Adwcleaner.exe 10.1 : Download AdwCleaner from the below link.
Mysearch Removal
July 28, 2012 at 4:55 PM Anonymous said... MyWebSearch should now be completely uninstalled from your computer. Join Now What is "malware"?
- Then remove the mywebsearch.com.au page from the text box.3.
- Open "My Computer" and go to C:\Program Files.
- You know it is facebook and all those sites that are doing this now, they are everywhere.
- CLAY Flag Permalink This was helpful (0) Collapse - MyWebSearch by jimbulluck / September 21, 2011 4:14 AM PDT In reply to: MyWebSearch Removal Instructions I did all of this and
Thanks a lot Discussion is locked Flag Permalink You are posting a reply to: What is MY WEB SEARCH and how did I get it? Carefully watch for "extra" items that will be installed and un-check or opt-out of them. Most commonly this type of adware infiltrates user's operating system through free software downloads. Install My Web Search Homepage I uninstalled that program and it completely fixed my internet issues.
Under configuration page find a option named as "Open a specific page or set of pages" click on its Set Pages. How To Remove Mysearch From Google Chrome Register a free account to unlock additional features at BleepingComputer.com Welcome to BleepingComputer, a free community where people like yourself come together to discuss and learn how to use their computers. To verify that you have successfully restored your browser's default settings: -Type 'ebay' (without the quotes) into the addressbar and hit enter. https://malwaretips.com/blogs/remove-mywebsearch-com/ And now the search result is back to Google.
Update the Flash plugin to the latest version. Mywebsearch Toolbar STEP 2: Remove MyWebSearch.com hijack with Junkware Removal Tool Junkware Removal Tool is a powerful utility from Malwarebytes which will remove browser hijackers from Internet Explorer, Microsoft Edge, Firefox and Google December 13, 2011 at 6:09 AM Admin said... Reset Microsoft Edge In the upper-right corner of the Microsoft Edge window, click the "More actions" icon (three dots), then click on the "Settings" option.
How To Remove Mysearch From Google Chrome
Select "Reset" from the menu, and entry will be reset to its default value (www.google.com/search...) 6. click use links and prompts from /questions/new post in this thread once you have done that readers of this thread are likely to want to see your comments and progress You may Mysearch Removal June 8, 2011 at 7:19 PM Anonymous said... Mywebsearch Home Page This post has been flagged and will be reviewed by our staff.
I could not got rid of start mage mysearch.com for two years and now is gone. I'm Michael Kaur. This BHO is used to promote the MyWebSearch Services like free toolbars, search engines or browser addons, powered by Google Custom Search. October 3, 2012 at 3:11 PM Anonymous said... How To Remove Mysearch From Firefox
It's still there and I didn't find any files name any of those August 24, 2012 at 10:51 PM roke smith said... It is important to note that Malwarebytes Anti-Malware works well and should run alongside antivirus software without conflicts. Also, every single day a thing comes on my computer to clean it up. Optional method: Computer users who have problems with mywebsearch.com removal can reset their Mozilla Firefox settings.
Reset homepage/Remove mywebsearch.com.au homepage from Internet ExplorerClick on Settings icon and then select Internet Options. Mywebsearch Toolbar Download Next, scroll to the bottom of the page and click on the Show advanced settings link (as seen in the below example). Cancel Subscribe to feed Question details Product Firefox System Details Windows XP Firefox 3.6.13 More system details Additional System Details This happened Every time Firefox opened This started when...
Windows: choose the .exe file; Mac: choose the .dmg file Using either of the links below will force you to install the "getPlus" Adobe Download Manager.
I suppose there isn't any protocol that requires web sites to disclose this kind of not-approved add-on. I finally removed it from Chrome. Please try again now or at a later time. My Web Search History If I were to delete Firefox entirely and reinstall it, would this add-on be gone?
Download and SAVE to your Desktop so you can find the installer later If you do not have the current version, click on the "Player Download Center" link on the "Download Remove MyWebSearch.com homepage and default search engine from Mozilla Firefox. mozilla Ask a question Sign In English Search Home Support Forum Firefox how do I delete "My Web Search" toolbar ... HitmanPro.Alert Features « Remove Home.mywebsearch.com redirect (Removal Guide)Remove Joomborio Search and search.joomborio.com (Guide) » Load Comments 17.7k Likes4.0k Followers Good to know All our malware removal guides and programs are completely
The reset feature fixes many issues by restoring Firefox to its factory default state while saving your essential information like bookmarks, passwords, web form auto-fill information, browsing history and open tabs.Mywebsearch.com redirect removal: Windows 7 users: Click Start (Windows Logo at the bottom left corner of your desktop), choose Control Panel. To prevent further privacy and security issues it's recommended removing any Internet browser settings altering adware as soon as possible. More commonly, people will accidentally install it when it's bundled with another program.
Potentially unwanted programs are often proposed during the installation of software. Uninstall a program for Windows xp You'll get a window which has listed all the installed programs. A post in a 3 year old thread, is likely to be over-looked.I'm going to lock this one.Thanks for your understanding..Carol Flag Permalink This was helpful (0) Back to Spyware, Viruses, chas993 0 solutions 3 answers Posted 5/1/12, 10:04 PM Replying to self: after digging around in the registry (I didn't find any trace of the 'my web' bar, and uninstalling/re-installing firefox,
Thanks heaps for the query and all reply's they've been a great help! :) Modified August 25, 2011 at 7:51:55 PM PDT by MayorSirWippet gus_69 0 solutions 1 answers Posted 10/6/11, Hurray! If you are still seeing the search results page, please contact customer support at [email protected] Hi Tygrusa, This is Jason from Mindspark Customer Support, With select versions of the My Web Someday.
Just find the program in the computer's program list, and click Uninstall. Your browser should redirect to www.ebay.com instead of showing a page with search results. Thank you very much for showing an interest in what I complained about and do have a nice day! When i highlighted that program in the window on the bottom the http address for "mywebsearch" appeared.
refer to the article in the link below - I was also infected by this malware "My Web Search" which got installed without my knowledge and got it removed by following I suppose there isn't any protocol that requires web sites to disclose this kind of not-approved add-on. Do never click too fast thru the installation process [Next] button of software as you will agree to software you might not want to install. Click the item to disable and remove.
Upgrading Firefox (Assuming it is an official copy, not form some bogus site) does not install MyWebSearch or any additional search/adware toolbars. If you cant remove it from start-up on chrome:Go to Settings and the settings tabOn start-up optionClick "Set pages" on Open a specific page or set of pages.Once entered you should After completion click on close button. We strongly recommend using AdwCleaner several times a month to keep your computer clean from adware, popups, browser hijackers or toolbars.Download AdwCleaner (Official link and direct-download)Select AdwCleaner.exe with right mouse click


text:
Where Is Wilson's Mandate?
Attorney-General Margaret Wilson has no electoral mandate to axe the Privy Council, ACT leader Richard Prebble said today.
"Her reported comments that she would consult Maori, the courts, and the legal profession before presenting her views to Cabinet are arrogant, elitist, and racist. Every New Zealander has the right of access to our highest court and every New Zealander should be consulted before such an important change is made to our constitution. This is an issue that requires a referendum," he said.
"The Attorney-General's view of the world is very limited if she thinks she can get away with abolishing the court by just consulting these three groups who all have their own particular interests to pursue.
"Why not open it up to widespread discussion through the Justice and Electoral select committee? Is she afraid that she might lose her grip on arbitrarily changing the legal structure of this country?"
Mr Prebble said the government believed they could change the constitution by doing little or no consultation.
"Their arrogance is unbelievable. The
Cabinet should at least give the New Zealand public the
opportunity to comment on these issues before making
unilateral decisions that will take away their


text:
Free MP3 Organizer
- License:
- Freeware
- Price/Registration Fee:
- Free
- Publisher:
- Free MP3 Organizer
- Last Updated:
- 12/26/05
- Version:
- 3.1
- Review:
- Write a Review
- User Rating:
Rate It
Free MP3 Organizer Description:
Free MP3 Organizer helps user in managing of MP3,WAV,OGG and WMA files on his harddisk, CDs or Network Drives. Free MP3 Organizerallows the quick and easy editing of MP3-tags, renaming mp3 filenames, scanning selected directories or entire disks to locate your mp3-files,easily manage & play your MP3 song files. The program has a user-friendly interface.
Operating System Support: Win98, WinME, WinNT 4.x, Windows2000, WinXP, Windows2003