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Previously, this blog discussed preneed guardianship designations, the statutory requirements for them and a Florida 1st District Court of Appeals or DCA case that helped define the standard to determine the competency of the person making the designation. At that time, it was suggested that there was another major issue in the preneed guardianship area that was clarified by that case.
Can a court ignore a preneed guardian designation in Florida?
What happens in Florida if an heir can't be located?
Can a Florida Probate Court divide up out-of-state property?
In Florida finding a person born in the state can seem to be harder than finding a non-native. Further, Florida is a popular destination for people sometimes called 'snowbirds,' who are usually retired and live part of the year here and the rest of it elsewhere. As a result, many individuals who die here may also own real property in other states or countries. So, when the will of such a person is probated here in Florida, can the probate judge direct a personal representative to convey out-of-state property to a beneficiary?


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Window into the ingenuity of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Extracts from this document...
Window Into The Ingenuity Of F. Scott Fitzgerald The plot of a novel is the narrative and thematic development of the story-that is, we see what happens and in turn what these events mean. The English novelist E. M. Forster, author of A Room with a View (1908) and Howards End (1910), referred to the plot as a "narrative of events, the emphasis falling on causality." By this statement he meant that the plot is a series of events that depend on one another and not a sequence of unrelated episodes. F. Scott Fitzgerald in his novel The Great Gatsby exemplifies E.M. Forester's principle on plot. To the lackadaisical reader, the plot of The Great Gatsby might seem to be a large and confusing jigsaw puzzle, lacking both in continuity and sequence. But what the untrained reader does not take note of is that F. Scott Fitzgerald, in his literary genius, has organized his plot in a way such that he is not only using the plot as a literary tool to broaden his narrative but also to further the development of his theme by craftily retaining information and systemizing his narrative in a very unique way. ...read more.
For this Fitzgerald uses Daisy to represent the deepest seductive powers of the American Dream as well as its greatest dangers. Gatsby made Daisy the "incarnation" (117) of his dream "five years before" (117) the current chronology of the story and from that point, Gatsby has humanized an abstract idea of society and has made his conquest of it his sole priority in life. But instead of placing this flashback earlier on in the narrative where it would have allowed the reader to better understand the events of the novel, Fitzgerald dramatically chose to situate the flashback after he lets us know that, "Daisy tumbled short of his [Gatsby's] dreams-not through her own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion." (101). Fitzgerald does this intentionally to show that even though pursuing the dream-or the woman, ultimately led to Gatsby's untimely death, and whatever the outcome - the undertaking was still worth the risk. To Fitzgerald this was necessary, as this pursuit was essential for the exceptional man who wished to fully realize his character. Fitzgerald shows this crucial flashback just as Gatsby's dream starts to unravel and his "incarnation" slowly moves past his grasp like an illusion drifting away in the wind. ...read more.
Fitzgerald interjects this scene into his literary masterpiece mainly to show the humanistic side of Gatsby. Daisy represents Gatsby's dream but she is also a representation of the need for Gatsby to find himself. His willingness to commit himself totally to his vision of a bright future makes his death tragic. Fitzgerald masterfully uses this scene and the position that he has it placed in, to show not only that Gatsby but also that the American society is in a transitional period. Behind Gatsby was a powerful force of optimism, vivacity and individualism but in order to try to attain the "incarnation" of his dream, he had to sacrifice everything including himself, so much so in the end he achieves nothing but instead is hit head over heels with failure! In Aspects of the Novel, the British novelist E.M Forester says, "Yes-oh dear, yes-the novel tells a story." Plot definitely is a crucial element in all works of fiction, and F. Scott Fitzgerald must be applauded for his exceptional use of it. Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby is the potter, and the plot is his clay; he is able to mould it into any shape or form and allows it to represent many different aspects such as theme and characterization and eventually models it in such a way that he is able to create a masterpiece. 1 ...read more.
This student written piece of work is one of many that can be found in our GCSE F. Scott Fitzgerald section.
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subset: commoncrawl


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What's In A Name? Express Checkout Lanes Are Actually (Gasp!) A Waste Of Time
Express! That means fast, right? If you make a beeline for the express checkout lane at the grocery store any time you only have a few items, you might want to reconsider. Apparently there are other issues with the express line that can make the whole experience take almost as long as a regular lane, or in some cases, your wait could be even greater.
Lifehacker turned to a math teacher who's done some calculations regarding the matter of express checkout lanes, and he's come up with interesting results. In a hypothetical scenario, you're in the express line with five people in front of you, each with 10 items apiece for a total of 50 items. The regular line might have five people as well but each with 20 items to purchase.
According to the aforementioned math teacher, it takes 2.8 seconds to scan an item and every person in line adds 48 seconds to the total time. Even with equal lines, the express checkout will take 4:28 and the normal will be 4:56. That's not much of a difference, right?
The real problem with express checkout is a simple one — you. And me, and that guy over there with the questionable hairstyle as well. Express lines are meant to shove as many people through as possible during the day, which means there are more potential snafus waiting to pop up and stop that line in its speedy little tracks.
To wit — more people means the receipt paper could run out faster and need to be changed, stopping the line. More credit cards could get declined, more price checks could be needed, more reward card sign-ups could have you shaking your head and grumbling under your breath. Those things add up and have the potential to produce line-stoppers.
You can attempt to solve your problems by getting in line behind only a few people with big baskets, instead of longer lines with more people and less items to get checked out. Men will also apparently give up on a long line faster than women (ah, patience!), so if you get in line behind a bunch of men instead of women, maybe by the time it's almost your turn some of them will have abandoned hope of ever buying that pasta sauce.
Another option? Take a few deep breaths and count back from 20 while you wait or heck, play some Angry Birds on your phone. Because as with all hellish experiences, this line too, shall pass.
Why Express Checkout Lanes Are a Waste of Time [Lifehacker]
Want more consumer news? Visit our parent organization, Consumer Reports, for the latest on scams, recalls, and other consumer issues.


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Collingwood Open House!August 24th, 2016
We are proud to announce that this Aug 28th, 2:00 PM to 4:00 PM we will be hosting an Open House at 4608 Joyce Street in the Collingwood neighborhood, Vancouver. This is an opportunity to visit this excellent House for sale in beautiful Collingwood.
Please come with any questions you may have. In the meantime you can take a virtual tour of this Collingwood House for sale.
As always please do no ...


text: Looking to add some luxury to your stay? Try either of our Standard King upgrades, and take a little time to relax after a long day in Santa Barbara. We offer our Standard King with Jacuzzi or our Standard King with Contemporary Bath. *These rooms cannot be booked online, so be sure to call Marina Beach Motel to make your reservation!


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It's now possible to build architectural facades made entirely of thermallyinsulated, high-performance glass block designed to conserve energy and safeguard the environment. Horizontal Technology Integration (HTI) reduces heat dispersion through the glass block walls, while energy-saving (ES) technologies reduce a standard glass block's thermal transmittance up to U=1.1 W/m2 K.
The Reception Center of Taichung, designed by Architect Gong Shu Zhang (Aura Architects & Associates), was built for the purpose of hosting exclusive events and weddings. The idea behind this project was to create an energy efficient and low maintenance building, giving the illusion of a peaceful oasis in the city.
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Explore space with Smart Architecture Solutions and Formats.


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It was July 5th and I was 41 weeks and 2 days pregnant. I headed to my second acupuncture session and Phyllis, the acupuncturist, said I should head out after the session and grab some Italian food to eat. I had read an old wives tale about Eggplant Parmesan stimulating labor and I love Italian food so this was fine by me. Plus my mom, Jan, suggested going out for dinner since it was going to be a while before we could do that once baby was here. Oh how right she was, though I didn't know it at the time!
We went to Maggianos, one of my favorite Italian restaurants and saw my cousin Midge. I ordered the Eggplant Parmesan and it was delicious! While at the restaurant a lady saw me and told me I was a beautiful pregnant lady and that made me feel good because I did not feel very beautiful at that moment! We went home and I insisted on watching the movie "The Greater Good," and afterward at about 11pm, I said I was going to bed.
In these last few weeks, I had been very careful of getting enough sleep since I didn't know when she might arrive. I changed into my favorite nightgown. Mind you, before and after being pregnant, I hate nightgowns, but wore one during pregnancy. Then after brushing my teeth, I went to the bathroom. I finished peeing but suddenly there was another gush of water that plunged into the toilet that I knew wasn't urine.
It was my water breaking!
I text Salli, one of the midwives, and she said, "Go to bed!" Then I went out and told Pat, my husband, and my mom. We then all went to bed immediately. We all wanted to be ready for what would lie ahead!
At about 1:30 am I woke up with a contraction. It lasted about two minutes. That's when I remembered there was an app for timing contractions so I downloaded it. About 20 or so minutes later I had another contraction. They were definitely more intense than the Braxton hicks I had been having for weeks. I decided to practice breathing through them like I learned in my childbirth class with Natalie.
On the third one, Pat woke up and asked what I was doing. I told him I was breathing through the contraction. He said he needed to be rested so he would have the energy to help me later, so he went upstairs to the other guest room and left me to labor on my own. This was okay because when it came down to it, it really was just me and my baby, especially in those moments.
I dozed between contractions, knowing I needed all the rest I could get. At 5 am, the contractions were about 5 minutes apart, lasting 2-3 minutes and this had been going on for an hour. All this meant I was now officially in labor.
I text Salli and called the doula, Ruth. The commotion woke up Pat and my mom. It was go time! Salli said she was coming over and Ruth said she was waiting for her baby sitter and as soon as she got there, she'd be on her way. Ruth also told me my contractions shouldn't be lasting 2-3 minutes until it was time to push so I should take a warm bath to decrease the intensity. At this point the contractions hurt but I could talk through and even during them.
I got in the warm bathtub and my contractions immediately eased to 30 seconds. Thank you Ruth!
I thought it was great and I said to myself "I got this!"
My mom thought I should eat so I would have strength so she made me a breakfast scramble, which I love. After eating it I immediately felt a little nauseous but choked down about half, knowing I needed fuel for the task at hand.
The contractions started to get more and more intense. I went to the bathroom again and I heard another gush. This time it was my mucus plug. I wanted to leave it to show Salli but accidentally flushed it down the toilet out of habit, and the fact that my brain had a few other thoughts going through it. I got back in the tub looking for some comfort or relief from the intensity.
Salli arrived as I was giving up on the bathtub. I asked Pat to get the thumper. It's a big heavy chiropractic tool that vibrates and looks like a sander. My cousin who's also married to a chiropractor and had 3 natural labors said it was amazing, but I would say it was just okay.
It was difficult to talk through my contractions now. I would get down on my knees and Pat would use the thumper on my lower back. It helped but the contractions were still pretty painful. Ruth kept calling to update me on trying to get ahold of her sitter. The intensity was increasing so quickly that when she said she'd be there at 8:30, I thought "do I even need her then?" But I said "Yes, just come as soon as you can and I'll be okay until then."
About this time, I got very nauseous and threw up my breakfast.
Salli said "That's a good sign" and smiled.
Mom and Pat had filled up the birth tub and Salli suggested getting in since the thumper, hip circles, and other things I was trying were not helping the very intense contractions. Salli had also suggested squatting. Before I was in labor I thought, I'd love squatting during labor. I even had looked into squatting bars and stools. While I was in labor that sounded like the most horrible and painful idea, so, obviously, I didn't do that.
Into the birth tub I went. It was sometime between 8-8:30am at this point. The warm water felt good but barely dimmed the intensity of the contractions. Ruth arrived and immediately got out a bottle of olive oil and started massaging my arm. It felt good and my mom massaged my other arm. I started to feel hot so Pat got a hand held fan with a spray bottle. He fanned my face but I hated it, though I loved that he was trying to make me comfortable. I politely asked him to please not do that so he then ran and got a cloth with cool water to put around my neck and a cool wash cloth for my forehead and that I really did like.
The next few hours were a blur…
…of either being in the tub, standing to lean on Pat or sitting on the toilet with my feet propped up on some old high school yearbooks. Pat was so strong and during some of the most intense contractions, my legs would go completely weak and I'd put all of what felt like my enormous weight onto his shoulders. With my arms around his neck I'm sure it didn't feel good to him, but he never complained or asked me to stop.
I would let out long low moans during contractions. Supposedly it helps relax the cervix and vaginal muscles and decrease pain. I can't tell you if it worked or not but mentally it felt good to be doing something to help the pain.
Soon, I got very nauseous again and asked Pat to get me a bucket. I had been drinking coconut water for electrolytes. He ran over with the bucket and I managed to get most of it in but some splattered on the wall and my antique wooden scale. I didn't care a bit. After that I switched to regular water.
I kept reminding myself that this was one day in my whole life. I also thought,
"I can't believe people do this more than once"!
I told Pat this was it; only one baby because I did not want to do this again.
My other midwife, Heather suggested walking outside. I said okay but only because I wanted to privately ask Pat to remind me of why epidurals are so bad and say I no longer hold any judgment to the moms who choose them. He told me, "No, you don't want that. You got this." I answered, "I know I do, besides it's not like we have one in the fridge. It wasn't so bad that I don't think I can do it, but man, it would be so easy with an epidural." Good thing for me is once I have a plan, I stick to it. This would be it. I never give up. As another contraction hit, I ran into the house. I didn't want the neighborhood hearing me in all my glory.
Back into the tub I went. Heather, herself in the third trimester of pregnancy, napped on the couch between knitting sessions. My dog Jade came to lick my hands and check on me. She paced around the midwives as if to find out how I was. She had been quite the companion all through my pregnancy.
I was so tired. Not like, physically just did a workout tired, but like I stayed up all night, can't escape it tired. I kept saying I wished I could push a pause button take a nap and then finish. I felt like I could really handle it well that way. Obviously that wasn't an option. Salli told me it was the hormones. I had heard birth stories of so many women who slept between contractions then woke up and pushed then went back to sleep. I never understood how that was possible before. I get it now.
After holding out as long as I could, I asked Salli to check me. I think it was around noon. I remember her reaching and reaching. I thought how can she still be that far up after all this work? I silently prayed "please be at least 6-7cm." Salli emerged and announced, "9 and a half." I don't remember if I said it out loud, but I thought, "Oh thank God!" After about 20 minutes Salli said it was time to push.
I was so excited to push!
From my research on birth and labor, I expected a few pushes and then, yay baby! Not exactly how it went. I started pushing in the tub. It felt futile. This was going nowhere. We tried the toilet with my feet up again. I was facing backwards so Pat could rub my back. I pushed so hard I poopped. Poor Pat was right there to smell it. I also felt like this wasn't working. I could hear my mom say she must have been really good at pushing. That really annoyed me. I asked Salli to close the door so I didn't have to listen.
Salli suggested squatting but I just couldn't. Besides the fact that my legs turned into "jello" with every contraction, it was too painful. I said I was so tired and asked to lie down. Salli recommended getting on my hands and knees on the bed. I did, reluctantly, but it actually felt really good. Between contractions I would ease into a child's pose to rest. After a few pushes Salli could tell this wasn't an effective position. I wanted to stay because it felt so good.
Salli could feel babies head was tipped. She suggested lying on my left side and holding my right leg in the air. I again reluctantly agreed. I did not want to put my legs together as it just felt too painful. My mom and Ruth held my right leg in the air while Pat helped keep my left leg bent and then I pushed and pushed. It was going well until baby hit my pubis bone and got stuck.
I continued pushing and pushing but got nowhere. Salli suggested Pat adjust my hips to help baby move around my pubic bone. I knew that meant my legs would need to be very close together, but even though I did not want to get adjusted, I said okay. Pat and my mom put the adjusting table right next to the bed. As soon as a contraction ended I rolled onto the table. He adjusted my hips but wanted to check the rest of my back. I told him "no way!" and scrambled back to the bed as another contraction hit.
More pushing. Her head would come down then back up, still stuck on that bone. I'd been pushing for about 2 hours and was not getting anywhere. I glanced nervously at the midwives to try to read their expressions. Nothing! I couldn't tell what they were thinking. I really didn't want to go to the hospital but I wasn't sure how long they would let me go on. I remembered reading on the Spinning Babies to prop up the pelvis at the level of the trochanter to help an acynclitic head move under the pubis so I decided to tell the midwives and they wanted to try it. We propped me up and started pushing. It worked! Little by little down she moved. She was still going back in a bit but at least we were finally making progress.
They kept telling me to push like I was pooping. I did that and pooped a little with every push. Poor Randi, the student midwife, ran out of gauze wiping it. Eventually, I got the hang of it and started pushing with all my might. When I was pushing, I was so focused I didn't feel the pain of the contraction. I was pushing so hard and so long the midwives started telling me
"Stop pushing the contraction is over."
Finally I got to the ring of fire when she started to crown and it hurt so badly. I wanted to just push right through but Heather reminded me to pause and allow the skin to stretch so I wouldn't tear. The next contraction I pushed so hard she came right out! Head and shoulders! Salli looked at us and said we could pick her up. I reached down so fast! I'd visualized catching her for months and after all that hard work, I wanted to be the first to pick her up. Pat and I ended up doing it together. I put my hand under her left arm and he under her right.
As we lifted her up I checked that she indeed was a girl.
We brought her to my chest and I was just staring at her beautiful face! I announced, "She's so cute!" I had been so curious about what she'd look like and hopeful she'd at least have some resemblance to me. And she did. We looked a lot alike as babies. She had a cute big round head though and I loved it! She nursed right away and basically all night.
Pat ordered pizza for everyone. Everyone was bringing things to me and I just wanted to get up and move around! I was so tired of being stuck in the bed in labor. The midwives were impressed with how easy I could move around and wanted to. I actually really felt great! They made up an herbal bath for both baby and I. She was so calm you could tell she loved it. Coincidentally, she hated all baths after that until she was 9 months old!
When everyone left and my mom and Pat went to bed, it was just her and I. I kind of felt like, "You're just going to leave me to do this by myself?" I couldn't stop taking pictures of her. She didn't want to sleep but wanted to eat all night long. I don't think I really slept until about 8:00am! The next day my eyes were swollen from pushing so hard and I felt like I went through the windshield of a car and I was so happy all our relatives lived far away and we could just be alone to look like crap and sleep! My mom helped me get rest while Pat had to head off to work.
Dani was a one of my first clients. Her and husband, Pat, own and operate Symmetry Heath Chiropractic Center in Cedar Park. She graciously agreed to also be my first birth story from previous clients to post on my site. I hope to have more stories from past clients in the future.


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7 Steps that will help you Land a Non
News that hiring in nonprofit organizations might be obtaining may offer an incentive to think about work change. However, the transition from working in the forprofit world with a nonprofit career isn't necessarily a straightforward switch.
Marci Alboher can be a vice president at Civic Ventures, a nonprofit think tank leading the phone call for encore careers, which they contact jobs personal fulfillment, social impact, and continued income, enabling individuals to placed their passion to dedicate yourself to the greater good. She also coined the phrase career to consult those who can answer the issue should you do? having a single word or phrase. sales rep/literacy mentor). This could engage in by 50 percent ways. Slashing may help you transition out of your current field in a nonprofit job. In the event that your target, Alboher suggests you hold on to your employment while you use the nonprofit world privately (with all the suggestions below). By taking the slash approach, you be capable of continue earning a paycheck and simultaneously build skills and relationships that may help you transition towards the nonprofit sector. Keep in mind, you could possibly earn less inside a new nonprofit job, which means that your operating plan can sometimes include saving some funds while you're planning your career change.
Alternatively, you could would like to produce a permanent career, that you have one foot each planted in the the forprofit and nonprofit worlds. Either way, continue with the advice below and thoroughly create here we are at every one of the sides of your respective in organizations that you have a strong interest and you can create real impact. Don just put aside a short time per year to work with Habitat for Humanity, as an example. Incorporate highlevel volunteer work and make a real effort being linked to substantive projects that familiarizes you with the sector and introduce you to people doing the level of work you must do as a living.
[See In Pictures: 6 Ways the task World is Changing.]
Consult. Take on a consulting task for a nonprofit in an effort to showcase your talent. If you opt to work for free, be sure you building relationships, knowledge, or something else to help you while you try to find a paying job. Nonprofits appreciate and seek employees who are enthusiastic about their missions, therefore it is smart to spot issues and organizations you might like to use for the long term.
Meet people. Leverage your social support systems to assist. Incorperate your volunteer interests and work experience to LinkedIn through the sections tab if you update your profile. Search on LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook, and Google+ for groups and individuals either doing work for or actively associated with nonprofits that get your interest.
Get involved with your target sector. Visit conferences or panel discussions. Seek out Twitter about your interest area. Reach out on Facebook and LinkedIn for your friends. Update your Facebook status permit people know where and when you might be volunteering. Share information and news relating to your favorite nonprofit organizations and results in via your social websites platforms. Enroll in LinkedIn newsfeed on nonprofit news.
[See 8 Danger Signs If you are Job Searching.]
Arrive. After you identify organizations that interest you, visit their events and tackle conferences in which you could most likely meet those who work in those organizations.
Dig in. Keep uptodate about what happening within your field. Use social media marketing to identify leaders in the fields that get your interest and follow them. Miriam teaches people looking for work and entrepreneurs how to incorporate social websites tools in addition to traditional ways of empower their success.
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At last, two renowned rappers, Munachi and Modenine have eventually agreed to embrace the olive branch after staying apart for several months. The two resolved their differences at the Industry Nite which held during the week.
Muna who was this week's celebrated act had performed a number of her songs before announcing Modenine on stage.'Now, I want to do something I should have done a couple of weeks ago, ladies and gentlemen please can I call my friend, my brother, my hommie Modenine!', the RMG signee said.
Modenine who had been chatting with RMG boss Ayo Shonaiya however mounted the stage and hugged Muna .In his short speech, Modenine said 'It's all good, I don't take anything personal, this is the industry."
DJ Spinall then threw Notorious B.I.G's 'Juicy' soundtrack which Modenine and Muna performed together . Muna had been under heavy criticism, following a verbal exchange she had with Modenine few weeks ago.
The event was attended by DJ Jimmy JATT, Ayo Animashaun, DJ Abass, DJ Tee, and Clarence Peters.


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"Wealth flows from energy and ideas." – William Feather
- I am simply an idea. I'm neither good nor evil. I am only what you decide that I am, and I satisfy the role that you create for me.
- I don't care how smart you are, how well you are educated, where you live, what you do, or where you come from.
- All I care about is your energy. Your energy decides what thoughts you have, and therefore your thoughts will determine the feelings and relationship that you have with me.
- I am infinite. I have no limits, except for those you place on me with your own mind. There is no limit to the energy in the world, and because I am simply energy, I cannot be restricted or controlled. I am unlimited
- I desire abundance. I am attracted to those who think without restrictions, those who like to think big. When you believe that there is enough of me to go around, I am naturally attracted to that thinking.
- I loathe scarcity. Because there is no limit to me, I avoid those who think from a win-lose or scarcity viewpoint. Those who believe I am in short supply, or difficult to receive, will find that exact reality, because I choose to avoid those who think small.
- I love value. What magnetises me most is the creation of true value in the universe. I move towards places where value is created. If you wish to attract me into your life, focus on creating value for others, and I guarantee that I will appear.
- I avoid entitlement and self-satisfaction. No one deserves to have me, and I am always moving to the place that I'm most appreciated and where value is created. Those who take me for granted or become complacent with my energy will soon see me disappear.
- My primary goal is to replicate myself. Because there is no limit to energy, my purpose is to reproduce and grow. My goal is to bring more and unlimited energy to the universe. I am produced and replicated through value creation.
- My sole goal is to serve you. It is simply a matter of energy and value creation. My purpose is to move to where I am attracted most, and where I can grow.
"A bank is a place that will lend you money if you can prove that you don't need it." – Bob Hope


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Frocktober 26th!
Today I wore two dresses! But I only took good photos of the first one. I was busy today!
This dress I made back in January 2010! I haven't worn it much because it's too tight around my chest. I think I might cut off the bodice and make a skirt from it. Here's the original post form when I made it!Me back when I made it.
Then since the dress was strangling me, I changed into my Gilroy Garlic Dress! Much more comfy. The tights have little hearts on them and are from Forever 21.


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Speaking at SharePoint Saturday Toronto–7th July
By Alex
I am delighted to announce that I will be speaking at my first international SharePoint Saturday, the sell out SPSToronto on July 7th on one of my favourite topics 'Leveraging Project Server 2010 for SharePoint Governance and Lifecycle Management'.
"You've installed SharePoint and now everybody is using it, but how do you handle business requests for new sites, workflows, custom applications, web parts and dashboards? Come along to this session to see how you could implement a powerful request / workflow solution to assist your organization to view, analyze, prioritize and resource requests using the workflow and portfolio analytics capabilities of Project Server 2010."
I will be at SPS Toronto all day and would love to chat about all things Project, Project Server or Workflow, so if your attending please feel free to reach out via email@example.com or come and find me in person.
For those of you not lucky enough to have tickets, there is a wait list you can sign up for at http://spsto2012.eventbrite.com/


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Does it bother you, I ask Glen Hilbrand, that some people look down on a man who's chosen to beg for money rather than work? That they call you a bum?
"If they don't think that's work out there, standing in the heat for 14 hours a day, seven days a week, in the rain, sleet and snow, then. . . . "
Glen trails off, his point made, then adds: "And you know what? I rather them call me a bum than call me broke."
Glen must be our area's longest continuously serving panhandler, the word he uses to describe himself. For 18 years, he has staked out a median on Sycamore Street in Arlington, near the East Falls Church Metro station. It's because he's always there that Glen knew what had become of a little black dog named Ms. Winter who disappeared in July.
When Ms. Winter's owner, Laurie Nakamoto, went to the Stray Cat Cafe to post a lost-dog sign, assistant manager Dave Seldomridge told her to talk to Vince Tran, owner of the 7-Eleven about a mile away. Vince told Laurie to talk to James Hemphill, a man who panhandles near the convenience store. And James took her to see the king of the panhandlers.
"I used to ride dirt bikes up and down here before they put 66 in," says Glen — 55, tall and tanned from years spent outdoors. He grew up a few blocks away, started drinking when he was 13, got addicted to heroin and crack, and has been locked up repeatedly. He was a junkie for 37 years but has been clean for more than five, since July 14, 2008. Glen remembers the date — 7/14 — because it's the number he saw embossed on countless quaaludes before he washed them down.
At his nadir, Glen lived in the woods near the Metro station and scrounged food from trash cans. He panhandled because he thought it was better than stealing to support his habit, though he did that sometimes, too. His goal each day was to get $160 in his pocket, enough to head into the District and buy two 10-packs of heroin at 80 bucks each.
"The train is right there," Glen says. "You'd have the cash in your pocket, take the train downtown, and then it's over with, except for the misery."
Glen's body is scarred by reminders of his addiction. He's lost count of the times doctors had to pull blood vessels from one part of his body to replace collapsed ones in another. He once had his weakened femoral artery blow while panhandling on the median. "Bloop" is the word Glen uses to describe it and the geyser of blood that followed.
"The fire department had to come wash that road," Glen says. "By the time I got to the hospital, they put five pints of blood in me."
A long rehab five years ago finally worked. Since he's been clean, Glen has been able to get an apartment. He has a wife — another once-troubled soul — and is obsessed with music. He burns compilation CDs for bus and taxi drivers and DJs at events held by 12-step groups.
He starts every day by picking up every speck of trash in his area: every soda bottle, gum wrapper, cigarette butt. Other panhandlers — "drifters," Glen calls them — sometimes try to horn in on his spot, but he runs them off, all except for a homeless woman named Helen whom he feels protective of.
Says Glen, "I'm not going to claim to own that place, but after 18 years of my life out there, I think I've homesteaded it two times and a half."
On a Sunday morning in July, Glen spotted Ms. Winter, the elderly miniature schnauzer who had wandered away from home the night before.
"I'm walking up to the store and I see this dog in the road and the cars are just running it over," Glen says. "And nobody stops. They just do not give a s---. I said 'What the f--- is wrong with these motherf---ers? Someone needs to get out there and pick up that motherf---ing dog.' "
So that's what Glen did. He walked into the traffic and lifted Ms. Winter from the pavement. She was dead. He took her body to the 7-Eleven and put it inside a trash bin.
"I was thinking about the owner when I picked it up," he says. "I didn't want whoever it was to find their f---ing loved animal crushed to a f---ing pancake."
He explained all this to Laurie when she came a week later. He walked with Laurie up the hill to show her exactly where Ms. Winter was killed. And when Laurie had a memorial service on the site, Glen attended.
Twenty of Laurie's friends were there, some with their dogs. They stood in a circle, remembering pets they'd lost. Laurie had written a letter to Ms. Winter. She set it alight on the spot where the dog was struck. There was a small party back at Laurie's townhouse. Glen went — for a while: "They started drinking, and I got the f--- up out of there."
Says Laurie: "Glen's a real hero to me. Think of all the other people who drove by and never stopped." He allowed her to have a sense of closure.
So, as I said at the very beginning, the dog died. But this story was never about the dog.
For previous columns, visit washingtonpost.com/johnkelly.
CORRECTION: Easrlier versions of this column, including in the print edition of The Washington Post on Thursday, gave the wrong date for when Glen Hilbrand became sober.


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About the Author
Morgan Snyder has served alongside John Eldredge since before the inception of Ransomed Heart Ministries almost two decades ago. Originally developing and directing the retreats and conferences, Morgan now serves as a Speaker, Teacher and Director of Strategy.
He is married to an extraordinary woman, Cherie, and finds great joy in adventuring with his eleven year old son Joshua and his eight year old daughter Abigail. Morgan lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado and when he's not with his family or on mission, he is most often found on expeditions in the mountains of Colorado.
For more, I'd recommend you start with the following past posts:
Castration – A Case for Carrying a Knife
About the Blog
Click Here for more.
Dallas Willard suggested that the primary work of God is finding men in whom He can entrust His power. Unfortunately the story of most men is being entrusted with power, and it bringing harm to themselves and those under their care.
Every man longs to be powerful. What does that journey look like? Specifically what is at the center of the decade of the thirties? What are the pitfalls? What are the points we must have on our road map in order to find our bearings and move toward our destination.
September marked the 16th anniversary of me choosing an intentional season of training over building. For the last seven years I have been taking these questions to older, wiser men of character who have traveled the ancient path that Jeremiah talks about. I have discovered a treasure chest of counsel and insight and am using BecomeGoodSoil.com to share some of those treasures with other men who are courageously choosing to become wholehearted; to Become Good Soil. Men that want to take the road less traveled; the "ancient paths" as the Scriptures say. Men who want to lean into Wisdom as the "craftsman at the hand of God before creation" (Proverbs 2). After over 16 years of living in this stage and through sitting at the feet of over seventy five sages, i've been compelled to share of the thoughts and help nourish other peers along the way. Dallas Willard often said, "The most important thing in your life, is no what you do, it is who you become."
Let's become, together…
Click Here for more.
About the Editor
She is my sunrise.
GK Chesterton once said that "Every sunset speaks of His death and every sunrise of His resurrection." Cherie speaks daily to my heart of His resurrection. Winsome, generous, engaged, thought-provoking, intensely wanting more… more of life, more of God, more of Goodness, Truth and Beauty, wherever it can be found. She's a devoted student, a master of words, brilliant mother, inexhaustibly forgiving wife and partner and more than I could've dreamed up in a best friend.
We've been married for over fourteen years and have struggled for, wept over, fought for and looked to all that is available in marriage. We've had highs of highs and the lows of lows and we can say with profound gratitude, we're intact and becoming more united with each passing season. Simply put, we've tasted what it means in marriage to "contend as one," and we truly have become champions of marriage.
Cherie's made my blog possible. I've lived a lifetime of fear and inadequacy around writing and she's been my biggest champion to just "ship it." She offers her eyes, her prayers and her ability as a writer to be my editor-in-chief, giving of her precious time and her care to make many of these blogs move from personal thoughts to communal realities.
As the Chief Life Officer of our domain, Cherie spends most of her time nurturing the hearts of our young kids and going after much in her spiritual life that is beyond what I even dreamed is available. She is an anointed Holy Yoga instructor and brings Jesus to many through that spiritual discipline. Hopefully you can receive through one of her classes if you are ever in Colorado Springs.
PO Box 49561
Colorado Springs, CO 80949
Technical Issues? Click Here for help.


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Hi there,
When I tried to add physic to the wheels , I've encountered a problem which we can see a noticeable crack to the wheel. The usual method, in Vehicle Setup, I select parts and add to Wheels From Selected Parts. I've tried all the vehicle facing direction but still facing the same problem. Ignore the spinning wheels. Please advice.


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New York |
Slick Sided
by Melissa Swantkowski
edited by Emily Schultz
Morgan saw her mother in the bedroom. "I'm a beast," her mother said. "How am I ever supposed to take my clothes off again? These things never happened to my body when I had you." She held a narrow pair of jeans in front of her belly. "I keep these to remember. They'll fit again. They will."
The house was very quiet. Morgan's siblings were napping, their hot little breaths softly clogging the rooms down the hall.
Morgan's mother rolled the jeans into a tight packet, then shoved them into her bedside drawer, readjusting a People magazine and a tube of Rolaids on top. "Do you know the last time I wore these?" Morgan nodded, though she didn't know, and moved closer to the bed. "The day, I found out I was pregnant with you." Her mother leaned closer, pulled Morgan to sit down, and whispered, "I can't even say aloud the places I have stretch marks." She gestured toward a place Morgan's body, then her own, a body part that Morgan was uncomfortable acknowledging existed on her mother, or really, anyone.
Morgan followed her mother's gaze to the ceiling. A crack ran from the overhead light to the corner, widening just slightly before it disappeared behind the vanity mirror. "Don't get me wrong," she said, "I love you, babies. But I don't love this anymore. Who could?" She rolled her neck until it released a pop. She looked down at herself. "They're everywhere."
Morgan had once known her mother as a different sort of presence: the scent of soap and sweat above her own smaller body tucked into bed, a reliably eager face in the minivan window as she exited the elementary school, a warm mound to nestle against on the weekends, while her father made pancakes and hummed and whistled. Back then she had wished for a little brother like she'd wished for braces, to know what it was like to wear a cast, to grow breasts. The wishing, she learned, could be slick-sided and unpredictable. The braces cut her lips. The cast, while available to be signed, generating sympathy, and blue, her favorite color, had followed a badly broken arm bone, and now her right elbow had an ugly scar and a metal pin inside. Her breasts came in early and fast, and she was given not just a little brother, but twins, and a sister, and soon another sibling would arrive. Her mother, now pregnant for the fourth time was stretched out, pulled thin, and pushed inside of a thick-strapped bra that held her breasts close to her body. When she released the clasp, they fell out like undercooked eggs.
On a night some months ago after putting the twins to sleep, her mother slipped into the room Morgan shared with her sister April. She knelt beside Morgan's bed and closed her eyes. April was a small face, shiny with snot. "Don't you dare," her mother said. "Don't you let me hear you're behind the school with some boy. Look at where we are now. Behind the school is where we got you." Then she put a cool hand on Morgan's forehead. She opened her eyes, patted April's back and said, "My babies."
There was a boy Morgan liked. It was impractical and perfect in a number of ways, all of which Morgan listed in her spiral notebook (Alex: TOTAL H-O-TT-I-E, hottie…hair, shaggy, dark brown / taller than me by a lot - over 6 feet!? / in hs / maybe too old? / super nice voice / has girlfriend :( / freckles, just nose / no sick face pubes / sooo hottt). She began the list on the tenth page so that the first page, and therefore, the notebook as a whole, appeared empty.
Alex would graduate high school before Morgan entered in the fall, and since forever, he'd been dating The Babysitter. Alex worked at the Food Lion where Morgan was required to accompany her mother and the twins and April to do the weekly shopping. They shopped early on Saturdays, when the store was nearly empty. Her mother fended off tantrums and re-deposited candy in the produce aisle; she wearily removed items from the shelves while Morgan followed the caravan, pushing the cart. Morgan was often tasked with retrieving a forgotten can or box, giving her a fleeting wonderful moment of solitude and order. She used these moments to scan the aisles for Alex, and when she saw him, she was unable to help herself from sweating around her hairline and cracking her knuckles, starting from the pinkies and working in. She sometimes returned to her mother with an incorrect brand, and was sent back.
Morgan imagined Alex and The Babysitter together and spent whole afternoons considering it was possible that she, Morgan, could come up in their casual conversation. Once, she had seen Alex and The Babysitter, intimately, together in her own house. In her own living room where her family watched movies, on the very couch where her parents sat them down for family sit-downs, on the cushions that the twins tossed to the floor to play lava islands—she had seen them. Dropped off late one night after band practice, when her mother and father were uncharacteristically and unexpectedly out to dinner, perhaps celebrating or ending this last interim between pregnancies, she had seen them. The TV was up a bit too loud, and she made it to the stairs unnoticed. From the highest step, she paused. Below, The Babysitter tugged Alex's hair and he lifted his face from hers. A giggle. The Babysitter freed a chunk of her black hair that had become tangled between them. Her tongue on his neck. His hand lifting her shirt. Morgan saw the pale, taut skin of The Babysitter's torso. The Babysitter said, "Wait, the other one will be home any minute," but let his hand keep moving over her. Alex said something she couldn't quite make out and The Babysitter rushed her face back to his and they resumed and Morgan ran to her room and shut the door fast, but without slamming. Slipped to the floor thinking me, I am the other one, feeling both invisible and young and horribly elated that she had existed in that space between their mouths in that small moment when their lips had parted.
The Babysitter, applied mascara to her top and bottom lashes. She drove a white punchbuggy and drank mochas and wore blue velvet pants and tank tops, even in winter. Whenever possible, but only for the briefest moments, Morgan would slip her own arms inside the Babysitter's winter coat to feel the cool turquoise silk of the lining against her skin.
At night Morgan wrote letters to Alex about love and signed them ILY. She wrote about the way she felt when she considered the possibility that he could be thinking about her at the same exact moment that she was thinking of him. Like, what if they both looked at the kitchen clock at exactly 12:34. Wish you were here! She'd memorized his all caps handwriting from his nametag at the Food Lion where he was always friendly, saying Hi Morgan, Hi Mrs. Clemmens, waving at the twins and April as he bagged their items. So when he wrote back, she did it in his own hand. He responded by repeating what she had said to him, but sometimes adding his own twist. ILY COS UR NICR 2 ME THN NE1. WYWH! Alex wrote how he was always excited to see her come through the sliding doors. He wrote how he waited to catch a glimpse of her in between the neat rows of cereal and jams, pretended she was alone in the aisles.
Hi Alex! She wrote again.
I love you because you're nicer to me than anyone ever has been or ever will be. She wrote it out, abandoned the abbreviations, because in high school, in real letters, she thought, it would be expected that you said exactly what you meant.
Morgan imagined she was The Babysitter and wrote other letters. These letters were about bodies – Morgan's but not Morgan's; Morgan's if she was The Babysitter. And Alex's. She imagined his eyelashes impossibly close to her own. She wrote penis, then scratched that out and wrote dick, then scratched that out and wrote thing. Would The Babysitter say thing?
I want to touch your
thing when you come over to the Clemmens' on Friday
She imagined Alex lying very close to her and then maybe on top of her. They would be moving and she couldn't see when or how but they would have taken off their clothes.
How? He would stand her up, pull her close, and lift her shirt over her head but his shirt would be off.
How: He would come to her house and climb through her window, throw a rock (small) first to alert her that he was outside. She would open the window. There
would be a convenient ladder. Before she knew it, they would both be smiling and laughing together and moaning to each other while they were kissing, but
she couldn't write this to him. They might do more than just kissing. It embarrassed her to think this way, and if written as herself, she didn't want to
read it, or acknowledge the thoughts. Instead she wrote: HI CAMMIE I WANT TO PUT MY HAND UP YOUR SHIRT ON THE CLEMMENS' COUCH I WANT TO PUT MY MOUTH ON
BOOB I AM PUTTING MY HANDS IN YOUR PANTS I AM GOING TO PUT MY FINGERS...she folded the paper, covering her Alex words with a new white surface and slid it
up, looking again and again.
Even if she mimicked Alex's writing it was still her.
It was easier to write the letters about love.
Morgan retrieved her mother's jeans from the bedside drawer. She took them to the bathroom and locked the door, then struggled to yank the stiff denim over her hips. It was as if they'd never been washed. There was a small hole above the knee. She stretched out on the cool tile floor and cinched the waistband together. Her legs looked lean and tight in the mirror, but above the waistband, her flesh puffed out. When she unfastened the jeans, the button popped off and rolled under the counter.
The problem was: she'd never gone behind the school with a boy, but would she ever? The boys had mostly left her alone once the other girls started getting boobs, but before that, when she was in the only one in 4th and 5th grades wearing a cup-sized bra, they'd stare and point at where they thought her nipples might be, making wide circles with their thumbs and pointer fingers and sometimes tried to snap her bra straps. "Is your bra too tight?" They'd giggle—letting out these awful high-pitched, girlish sounds.
Embarrassing then, but if it happened now, she suspected she'd feel differently. She was unsure of how to attract that attention today. After the beginning of 7th grade, when most girls had at least a bra to stuff, and some of the ones that weren't stuffing would let certain boys stick their hands under their shirts and down their pants—under their bra but always always over their panties, they said, which was maybe or maybe not the truth, Morgan faded into the background. Certain boys like Edward Mashburn, who Morgan barely knew, but who fingers were rumored to have visited those places all the girls denied, were prone to showing off. During CPR class, Edward Mashburn had, more than once, mounted his dummy and humped it up and down, even though it was just a head and a torso. He still passed because when it became time to press the dummy's chest and breathe into its wide-open plastic mouth, he demonstrated perfect technique.
The problem was: she'd inserted a finger inside herself and repulsed by the foreign texture of her own interior had removed it quickly, sniffed it, and decided not to think about it or try it again for a year. So far she'd gotten five days, tops.
The problem was: Alex would be gone from high school by the time Morgan got there and Morgan wasn't dumb, she wasn't mental—she knew (except in those tiny euphoric moments reading Alex's love letters) that he wasn't going to choose her, but thinking about him filled her with a hopeful warm ache that started in her belly and moved outwards. She closed her eyes. It was difficult to feel this way and stare at herself in the mirror. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her hips against the hard Formica of the bathroom sink. She gritted her teeth, back and forth, clenched her jaw. Sucked her breath in hard. But the fluttering and the clenching and the gripping of the corners of the sink counter and the saying of his name in her head (Alex Alex Alex Alex) had a secondary effect. Afterwards, alone, in the locked bathroom, with Alex miles away, Morgan would grow guilty and nervous, her unwanted sweating patterns blossoming. She'd gone too far in her thoughts. And if he could hear her, oh God, what if he could hear her!
The problem was: this was almost the same thing her mother had warned her against.
The problem was: if her mother's teenage jeans didn't fit her, hadn't she'd already missed out on something?
At school, Morgan watched couples. Some approached each other between classes shyly, as if they shared a secret that could escape at any moment. Most greeted each other in the hallway, casually hugging as if the space between their bodies wasn't a great unknown. Morgan needed to know what those couples did to make a bridge between themselves and walk right over.
Morgan read the walls in the Girls' room and wondered about the Boys'. In the Girls' she saw
AMY MAKER STOLE MY BF ← fuck her
LISA wuz hereeee
i <3 Edward
At home Morgan watched herself and her mother noticed. "Stop checking yourself out in the mirror," her mother said, in between scolding April for putting a crayon down her pants or admiring the twins' drawings. "Yes, I meant you, Morgan." Morgan and her mother locked eyes in the hallway mirror. Her mother's hand was pressed against the curve of her back and her belly jutted out like the back of a spoon.
At school, girls were slim. Their mid-driffs showed when they lifted their arms to retrieve books from their lockers or raised an arm to answer in class. Their pants sat low-slung on their hips as if placed over a rigid surface. Morgan's own flesh felt constricted. She was always aware of her waistband.
At the dinner table, her mother caught her pulling and adjusting. "You're not fat," she said. "Now eat. Finish up." Her mother never served herself a plate unless Morgan's father was home, but instead plucked single noodles from the twins' plates and squirreled them into her mouth. She picked from the remnants of the children's plates before emptying them into the garbage disposal. Morgan's mother always drank a glass of milk for the baby, she said, "I'll have to stop when he comes. I'll have to get it together."
And the baby was coming soon. At her last doctor's appointment, Morgan's mother had been told to rest. She relied on Morgan more, sighing after each request which Morgan could not seem to complete correctly. Morgan tried, but could not fold the laundry or do the dishes to her mother's liking. Her mother followed her with a fresh, dry cloth as Morgan dusted the living room shelves. "If I have to do it over, I'll just do it," she said, taking the Windex from Morgan and hooking it onto the waist of her maternity leggings. She jammed the extra dust rag under her bra strap to free her hands, and lugged the vacuum from the hall closet. "Morgan, a little help here?" The twins circled at their mother's ankles, wrecking toy cars into the heavy plastic bottom of the vacuum as it whirred to life.
Morgan had begun to welcome the baby's arrival. In the first weeks of the April's life, the house was a mess of visitors and casseroles and phone calls. The dust went unnoticed. Dishes unwashed or miraculously stacked on the counter to dry as soon as they'd been used.
At April's birth, Morgan had been amazed by her sister's fine slick hair that seemed as though it was painted onto her scalp. Her mother invited her to sit close in the bed with them and hummed softly and they all three fell asleep until the twins barged in with their father, ready to meet the baby and take them all home. The hospital had convex, triangular mirrors high in the corners of its hallways. Watching her reflection as she pushed the wheelchair containing her mother and April toward the elevator, Morgan had disappeared momentarily in the green and pastel blue of the maternity ward before emerging in front of the elevator and later the parking lot, the minivan, her house which now belonged to yet another person.
At school, Morgan was surrounded by a different kind of chaos, but there, she felt ready for action, and she took inventory of the boys in her own class.
If Edward Mashburn asked her out, would she say yes?
If Gerald Altman, who wore oversize shirts and white leather tennis sneakers even though he did not play tennis, was to ask her out, would she say yes?
If Jonathan Worthman, were to tap her arm and tug her behind the gym where kids made out, would she go?
If Richard...
After band practice Morgan snuck into the Boys' room. She walked by the urinals and held her nose.
AMY MAKER SUX balllllz
LISA GERALD will give YOU head
Morgan reached into her bag and found a suitable pen. She made an addition.
She paused, added,
Morgan's mother shifted the minivan into park. "Give the door another good slam," she shouted as Morgan jumped out. Ordered to stay off her feet as much as possible, and with much sighing and instruction she's give Morgan an exact number of crisp bills and a long grocery list.
Inside Morgan added cantaloupes to the cart, a ten pound sack of potatoes that weighed almost as much as April. She chose cereal in bags from the bottom shelf. She looked from the list to the shelves to the check-out lanes to t-shaped fluorescent aisles, opening to the refrigerated dairy section at the far end of the store; she was looking for Alex. Morgan maneuvered her cart across the sprawl of the store. She hummed along to the song coming through the speakers, then stopped herself. It wasn't a popular song. She verified the dates on two gallons of milk—one whole, one skim—then chose two from the back, the newest coldest ones. Her mother had warned her that milk, so expensive anyway, was stocked from the back, and even in the store, spoiled quickly. She chose spreadable butter made with yogurt to lower cholesterol. Eggs—the job was to make sure they were not cracked, and then, there was a soft bump.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the man said. He bumped her cart again deliberately, before Morgan had time to nod or say that's okay, no problem. "Baby, I'm so sorry." He ducked his head toward his shoulder and smiled.
Morgan said it anyway, "That's okay. No problem." The man had brown hair that flopped over one eye. The top, sun-kissed. Scruffy, longer than how the boys wore theirs at school. Once, Morgan had overheard her mother remark that men with long hair are all the worse because they have hair that any woman would envy. His face was clean shaven. His chin darkened in the middle by a dimple. Morgan pushed her cart, tweaking the wheels a bit to get past him.
"Wait." He jogged to catch up. Morgan turned. "That's a lot of groceries. Who'ya shopping for?"
"My m – my family." Morgan reached for a bag of tortilla chips. Family sounded better than Mom, she decided.
"Here, let me." Morgan thanked him for handing her the bag. Alex might notice her talking to this man. He was a man, too, not a boy. His face was smooth and unwrinkled but Morgan could tell he was much older than she. He looked like the kind of guy on the magazines in the checkout. Tan and casual. Straight white teeth. Like he was leaning against an invisible wall, his upper body slouched and his lower solid, erect. How was he doing that? Morgan started to crack her knuckles. Stopped. He had muscles that filled out the sleeves of his polo shirt. Made them tight even.
"What were you just thinking about?" he asked.
"Nothing. I just, what I need to get. That I need to get going. Grocery shopping, you know." His shirt was unbuttoned to the third button. Where the fabric split, a nest of curly hair gathered at the hollow of his chest, and Morgan tried not to stare. He dipped his head again to catch her eye. She lowered hers. A mistake. His jeans were tight against the thighs, faded, worn at the knees with a hole just above the left. There was a bulge where Morgan tried not to rest her eyes, and one shoe was untied. The lace flopped, edged toward the other shoe.
"Your shoe is untied," Morgan said. "You might trip."
"I'll take the risk." He scuffed one shoe with the other. The hems of his jeans were frayed. "Want to know why I came to talk to you?"
"I noticed you from over there." He pointed. Morgan looked up, followed his finger toward the checkout lanes where she saw Alex tying on a red Food Lion apron. Alex nodded. At her? Her hand, almost beyond her control, flew up. Childishly, instinctually, gave a flat-fingered wrist-powered wave.
"I'm just digging the way your eyes match your shirt." He reached for the sleeve of her t-shirt and pulled it just slightly away from her skin. She felt his fingers and the muscles in her belly tightened. The hopeful warmth, like tentacles, stretched from her belly button wide out in both directions. It spread toward her chest and lower, into her underpants.
"It's like you were calling to me, Baby Blues. From way over there," he said, his voice lower, almost a whisper. Morgan worried where else the man's arm might go. That he might put it around her shoulders. She'd never done that before. Never hugged anyone except her father. "That's what I'm gonna call you." He kept speaking. Were his teeth not so white and straight, Morgan wondered? And his hair, where it split at the crown, not sun-kissed but thin, placed carefully and disguising a bald spot.
"It's blue," she said. "My shirt." His fingers were still holding the hem of her sleeve.
"Do you remember my name?" The man asked.
"I don't,...I don't think you told me."
"Of course I did."
The frozen vegetables in Morgan's cart were limp and wet. "I need those." She pointed at a bag of chips.
"Sure, Sugar." The man reached for them, leaned close and dropped them in her cart next to the identical bag she had already requested. "Do you like those?" Morgan nodded. "I think you're a pretty little thing, do you like that?"
Morgan didn't know if she liked it. "I don't know," she said. She tried to look past him, to see what was happening beyond this moment, but there was nothing. Just his polo shirt. His biceps. The jeans and his chest. The man tugged on her sleeve. Morgan lost her balance, just a little, and fell half against her cart and half against the man. He put one arm around her body, breathing out heavily. It was not a sigh like her mother's. Morgan felt his palm against her clothed breasts. The palm drew across her chest, pressing into her.
"There you go," he said, righting himself and her. He exhaled again. His lower lip slightly looser than the top. "All better now. When I see you around I'm gonna call you Baby Blues." Morgan didn't move. "Your things are melting now, look." He pointed at her cart as he walked backwards, waving and mouthing goodbye. "See you around," he said, his mouth forming a kiss shape.
"Bye," Morgan's lips said, a nearly silent word like a tiny bubble, popped.
The Food Lion was brightly lit. The electric doors slid opened and closed. Customers circulated. An elderly woman squeezed a tomato, made a soft, disgruntled noise and replaced it on the display. A grape found its way into a child's hand and soon, his mouth. Morgan's mouth was metallic. She pushed her cart fast to the checkout lane, not caring that she'd missed several items on her list.
The minivan honked into the parking lot as Morgan exited the store. She threw the bags in the trunk and jumped into the front seat. In the back seat, the twins dug their fingernails into each other's thighs, provoking shrill, identical squeals. The twins chanted ice cream ice cream ice cream close to April's face until she joined them.
Morgan felt her body as heat and noise, a build-up, pressure behind her ears. At home, as her Mother shifted the minivan into park, Morgan lifted her head from between her knees and ran into the house. She could hear her mother even after she stopped calling her name. Her voice slipped through cracks in the walls. She offered April something to eat. She asked the twins to hold out their sticky hands to be wiped. Her mother laughed.
Behind the locked bathroom door, Morgan lifted up her shirt and pulled down the cup of her bra. This is how it feels to be wanted. The thought of the man's hand pulling her shirt away from her skin. She put hand over her breast in the mirror. Tit, she thought. Don't blush. That's what it is. She touched the skin around her nipple and watched herself do it. Her hands looked different, removed from her body: spidery and grown up. She moved a hand inside her underwear. In her letters she hadn't much imagined the specifics of Alex's body, the flesh and its arrangement under his clothes, but instead the feeling he or she might have. A dick. She thought, cupping her fist in front. She moved one finger forward then another. Rearranged them. Made eye contact with her reflection.
Morgan removed her hand from her underwear. She stretched the skin of her belly button until it squinted back at her reflection. In the hallway, she heard the heavy steps of her mother approach and recede. Her mother, all those years back, unfastening stiff jeans behind the school. That was what it was to be wanted. Morgan stretched her skin further until it hurt, turned red. When she lifted her hand, angry fingerprints marked either side. Morgan pinched her flesh just below her bra strap. Again. She pinched her breasts, her cheeks, her nipples. Her hands became Alex's hands. Her body was The Babysitter's, was her mother's, was her own, was a vessel wanting. Flesh was flesh. Warmth blooming. This is what it was to be wanted. Her flesh responded. That is what she knew now.


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The Peach Perfect salsa is perfectly sweet and spicy. This one is one of our best sellers and award winning. .
Great dip and marinade. Enhances the flavor of your fish tacos. Use on pork or chicken as a marinade.
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Posted by Stephanie Archibald on 10th Dec 2019
We love this brand of salsa! The peach is our favorite but we like all of them!
Posted by Bob on 26th Jan 2018
Best tasting Salas ever!
Posted by Courtney J. on 6th Nov 2017
We first tried this product in Bisbee Arizona and fell in love with the peach salsa. We made a couple of online purchases through their online store and have tried other products since. We received a box with a couple of broken bottles, no fault of the senders, but Arizona spice is replacing them for us! Debbie from Arizona spice has been wonderful! We love Your products and would recommend them to everybody!!
Posted by Pat on 6th Jul 2017
Best peach salsa I've tasted. It's very addicting!
Posted by Ryan on 16th Jun 2017
It was recommended to me to try. I ordered a few jars online and thought why not, let's try it. It is so good i should have bought a case. only a slight kick of spice and its awesome
Posted by lovinlifenaz on 20th May 2017
Bought some at Sams club a couple months ago. I just love ❤ this flavor. I like mine a little hotter, so I mixed in a little Scorpion like the man suggested. Great stuff ! Need more.
Posted by Unknown on 24th Jan 2017
The Peach salsa had more of of a kick than I anticipated. However, it was still great nonetheless.
Posted by Brenda D on 21st Sep 2016
I tried the peach salsa in the store in Arizonia and loved it. When I returned home to Wisconsin I ordered a case. When the case was received the jars were busted. I called the store and they immediately sent out a new case. We are now enjoying this great salsa.
The customer service is awesome and so is the salsa. We will be customers for life!
Posted by Unknown on 24th Nov 2015
This salsa is amazing. We are hooked on it.
Posted by Desertratnana on 21st Sep 2014
There isn't a single Arizona Spice Company salsa that I haven't liked, and this is becoming a favorite. It's amazingly fresh, with just the right mix of fruity, sweet & spicy. It has a bit more heat than the Pineapple Salsa (another family favorite). I've been known to hide this salsa in the back of the fridge to save more for myself!
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Bay Area home distillers make modern-day moonshine
Moonshiners live among us. By day they appear to be respectable members of society, perhaps writing software to make your Internet experience run smoothly. But at night and on weekends, after a visit to the farmers' market or a nice brunch, they work in secret, sterilizing equipment, taking specific gravity and temperature measurements, and waiting impatiently as their illegal hooch drip, drip, drips out of tiny stills.
" 'Illegal' is such a judgmental word," jokes Doug (not his real name), who makes moonshine along with his friend Ron (also not his real name) at Ron's house in the Upper Haight.
The two have been distilling for less than a year. "We started home brewing, then we got into 'advanced brewing,' as we like to say to the neighbors," Ron says.
Illicit hobby
Home distilling is just another hobby for DIY-loving San Franciscans - except that, judgmental or not, it's a federal crime with penalties up to 5 years imprisonment and/or $10,000 fines just for setting up an unregistered still.
According to the United States Alcohol and Tax Trade Bureau (TTB) Web site, "You cannot produce spirits for beverage purposes without paying taxes and without prior approval of paperwork to operate a distilled spirits plant. There are numerous requirements that must be met that make it impractical to produce spirits for personal or beverage use (including) paying special tax, filing an extensive application, filing a bond, providing a separate building (other than a dwelling) and maintaining detailed records, and filing reports."
Matthew Rowley, author of the book "Moonshine!" (Lark Books, $14.95) that came out this summer, agreed to meet up for drinks when he was in town from San Diego. The book is an in-depth starter guide to home distilling, complete with blueprints to weld together a still and recipes to produce different kinds of liquor. Rowley says he met with about 40 different home distillers in the process of writing and then touring with the book, and has seen large regional differences in moonshiners.
"They're different out here. The ones in the southeast tend to have some family history with moonshine. The ones in the West tend to be brewers or winemakers and they come at it from some sort of food angle. It's another form of locavore consumption. That strikes me as a very Californian outlook."
Local food consumption was the only option in early America, when home distilling was legal, common and tax-free for a while. Distilling was a good way to transform rot-friendly grain and fruit that wouldn't travel over long distances into whiskey and brandy that could be used as currency or just to help pass the time during lonely winters.
Nowadays, since eating (and drinking) local is often considered part of a gourmet experience, many home distillers are also foodies. Rowley and I met with Charles (again, not his real name), a Noe Valley computer professional whose first attempt at distilling was during college while underage, using bananas stolen from the cafeteria. Four years ago he decided to repeat the experiment with a still he bought online.
"When you're distilling at home you're not just doing it to make alcohol," he says, now well over the legal drinking age. "You want it to taste like something."
Playing with spirits
Charles says he's had success with high-proof corn liquor, several versions of absinthe and several kinds of brandies, including a plum brandy made with fruit from a friend's tree. Ron and Doug say they've have the best success with applejack and absinthe in their experiments so far. They ran some holiday beer though the still and were surprised to find the spice flavor carried over into the spirits, and they have plans to make and age an apple brandy this fall.
Ron, Doug and Charles have each made absinthe, and say they know other people who are making it too. Rowley says that New Orleans was a hotbed of illicit absinthe production before Hurricane Katrina. This is likely because it's an ingredient in the New Orleans classic Sazerac cocktail. The Bay Area distillers all say they've enjoyed Sazeracs with their homemade absinthe.
Each of the distillers said they knew of other moonshiners in the area, but didn't reveal whether they met up or belonged to local groups that share tips and swap products, like you find with other crafts and culinary clubs. But then those other craft projects are not illegal.
Many people have heard about careless home distilling resulting in blindness from bad alcohol, but Rowley says, "Those people going blind are (drinking alcohol) from bootleggers, not moonshiners."
Bootlegger or moonshiner?
The distinction is important. Moonshiners illegally distill spirits. Bootleggers sell legally or illegally produced products under illegal circumstances, and have historically made low-quality hooch adulterated with substances like lye, embalming fluid and even horse manure. These adulterants are often the cause of the reported injuries.
Rowley says bootleggers still exist in this day and age, often selling the products to the urban poor. The products can be purchased by the shot or the plastic bottle in "shot houses," and some unscrupulous bar owners will serve it to unaware customers. His book doesn't track these commercial operations.
Rowley says none of the 40 people he's met who home distill have been arrested for the practice. But earlier this month, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported the bust of a bootlegging operation in North Georgia.
"You have to be trying to sell it, pretty much, or have an enemy on the police force," in order to get caught, Ron says. None of the local moonshiners I interviewed sold their products or knew people who did.
Rowley says, "Nearly all the moonshiners I know feel that profit leaves a bad taste."
Doug says that he enjoys brewing and distilling because it is more physical than working on a computer all day, which he does for work. Ron says, "We're experimenting just to do it, and in most cases have something nice to drink afterward." He and other home distillers tend to be tinkerers, constantly planning, assembling, repairing and upgrading their stills to make a better output.
Rowley says, "There's a strong geeky component to it. If this were the '70s a lot of the guys into this would probably be into muscle cars."


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A rainbow unicorn party, right at your fingertips.
Chromatic nails of your dreams in just 10 minutes? True story! Easy pop-on set sparkles and shifts in a opalescent dance while feeling completely natural on your hands. Looks unreal in pictures and IRL. Guaranteed to get you mad attention! Read More
We hesitate to call these "fake nails" because they look so real. We used a special type of plastic that looks, feels & behaves like real nails - but better. (File them like your own and create any shape you want to see what we mean). Extra-strength adhesive holds nails firmly in place, while chrome coating ensures your manicure keeps iridescence for a long time. One size fits most. Glue included!
What they do: Make your nails look extra!
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1. Start with clean, buffed, short nails. Wipe nails with acetone to remove excess oil.
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Roger L. Ogden
Retired President and Chief Executive Officer; Gannett Broadcasting, Director since 2008
Mr. Ogden is the retired president and chief executive officer of Gannett Broadcasting. Previously he served as general manager for KUSA-TV in Denver, Colorado, and as senior vice president, Gannett Television. He spent 17 years with GE/NBC in various roles, including president and general manager of KCNC in Denver as well as president and managing director of NBC/CNBC Europe.


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Ok so by now you probably know, I'm a total sucker for productivity hacks. If there's an article about a way to do things faster or easier or a hack for getting more done in your day I've probably read it. Along the way I've come across plenty of things that didn't work or just weren't worth the money. Lucky for you, I won't bore you with any of those here. I will however, share the 8 very best and cheapest apps (most are free) I've found and use whenever
Just 'cause I want you to get your New Year off just right! Here's a little something sure to keep you dancing well into 2016. Have at it! And as always – if you like it, do the right thing. Share that sh#t! xox
Every child is born an artist. The problem is how to remain one as we grow up. – Pablo Picasso I've always loved this quote. But I've sometimes struggled to really put my finger on why. Initially I suppose I liked it because it conjured for me an image of a joyfully uninhibited child artist wandering freely from one thought to another, seeing infinite possibilities in her work and exhibiting a freedom that few adults seem to have the luxury to indulge. Now however, I find myself re-reading this quote
Hot out the oven and recommended just for you the December This Much I Know jam. Have a listen. Let me know what you think! And if you like it, share it! xo
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about "fit". Not "fit" like how well my clothes fit, though as the holidays near with their never-ending opportunities for overindulgence I am somewhat obsessed by that type of fit too. Today however, I'm referring to finding the right fit in an environment. Like, for instance a college environment. My first born is in the midst of the college application process. If you've had the dubious distinction of enduring this unique and insidious form of torture sometime in the last few years then you
Ok, so you should know upfront that I'm somewhat obsessed with productivity. I'm a total sucker for productivity books, articles and research. I live life in what seems like a never-ending quest to better lifehack my day-to-day routine. Over the years I've learned a lot about what works and what doesn't, what sounds good on paper and what's totally impractical. So I thought I'd share what I now know for sure will help you ramp up your productivity. If you only take one thing away from this article, it should
"Feeling Gratitude and Not Expressing it is Like Wrapping a Present and Not Giving it". – William Arthur Ward I recently read an article in which Google CEO Larry Page was praised for being one of the most likable CEO's in corporate America. You know why? Because according to the article, he's good at expressing his appreciation for others and the work they do. In fact, I also came to learn that making a concerted effort to express gratitude in the workplace is baked into the Google culture
We all get stuck from time to time. We get stuck in jobs we hate, in relationships we've outgrown, in routines that bore us and in habits we know we should break. The list goes on. At some point we realize we need to fix it. We NEED to make a change. -But then the question becomes, how? Well, I've found the key to making a change is to start by changing your story. I know. You're thinking, I came here for help. WTF are you talking about? A
We all make mistakes. We screw up. We say and do things we regret, or we don't do things we should have done. Maybe it's that we didn't step up, or show up, or lend an ear or a shoulder. And now, well, time has passed and it feels too awkward to say something. Maybe we feel we've moved on. Or, maybe we think the other person has moved on. So, we tell ourselves there's no point. ..But, is that really true? Or, are we just rationalizing? The reality is
How to Raise and Adult: Break Free of the Overparenting Trap and Prepare Your Kid for Success By Stanford University Dean Julie Lythcott-Hain. Parents, you heard it here, this one's a winner! In her easy to read style the author offers up anecdotes of parents touring graduate schools, serving as mouthpieces for their shy, passive children, and submitting résumés to potential employers, sometimes without their children's knowledge. In her book Lythcott-Hain argues, "these behaviors do more than mold kids into dependent beings, they corral and constrict their possibilities and their imaginations. .


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cultural sites
Kala Pola street art market fair on Green Path Colombo
The annual Kala Pola brings the country's talented artistes and sculptors together on a common platform. This...
Top 5 Best Reasons to Visit Sri Lanka
Sri Lanka is set to become an increasingly popular tourist destination during 2013 and well beyond...
Backpacking Travel Guide to Sri Lanka
Backpacking is a popular way for younger, less wealthy travelers to vacation. Instead of flying, using...
More cultural sites News
8 World Heritage sites in Sri Lanka – Map and Details
Sri Lanka has enormous amount of culture and heritage-based resources. Sri Lanka is home...
- Posted March 19, 2012
Tourist attractions in Sri Lanka-culture-beaches-wildlife-hill-country
Sri Lanka is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the region, as...
- Posted March 19, 2012
Most popular tourist attractions in Sri Lanka in 2010: historical places and wildlife
Sri Lanka is no longer just a beach destination, deputy economic development minister Lakshman...
- Posted December 11, 2011
Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa for culture tourism
The 400ft Dagabas as tall as the pyramids and the remains of ruined cities,...
- Posted September 29, 2010


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Archive for Thursday, July 15, 2010
Board considers annexation of two schools
July 15, 2010
Two of the Basehor-Linwood School District's newest schools may be annexed into the city of Basehor.
At Monday night's school board meeting, members talked about the possibility of having the new Basehor-Linwood Middle School and Glenwood Ridge Elementary School annexed into the city. Both schools' sewer lines will be connected to the city's wastewater treatment plant in August as part of the decommissioning of the Glenwood Estates sewer lagoons ordered by the Kansas Department of Health and Environment.
Voluntary annexation into the city might save the district some money, Superintendent David Howard said.
"If we are not within the city limits and pumping sewage into the city, we will be paying 1.5 times more," Howard said of the sewer fees the district will incur.
Annexing into the city would also allow these schools to be patrolled by the Basehor Police Department, Howard said.
"I would think the local law enforcement would have a quicker response time than the county," Howard said, "though the county has done well with that so far."
The only potential disadvantages Howard said he saw were paying in-city taxes and being subject to the city's building code inspections. As its own taxing entity, the school district would be exempt from paying city taxes, Howard said.
District construction supervisor Chris Claflin told board members Monday he did not view Basehor's codes enforcement as a drawback to annexation.
"I don't see any disadvantages (to the annexation)," Claflin said. "Mark (Lee, Basehor building inspector) has done a great job with inspections for us. It's not free, you do have to pay for it, but he does a great job."
The discussion brought board members back to the Cedar Lakes Estates annexation that took place in 2009 during which Cedar Lakes residents argued they had nothing to gain by coming into the city. Board Vice President Eric Dove said he was against annexation without clear benefits to joining the city.
"I'm kind of an anti-annexation," Dove said. "I think it should always be voluntary. I think you should gain a lot if you get annexed, and I'm not sure (the district will gain anything)."
The board will discuss city annexation further at a future meeting that has yet to be determined.
Also on Monday night, the board:
• Unanimously elected — with board member Wynne Coleman absent — Dayna Miller as the board president.
• Unanimously elected Eric Dove as the board vice president.
• Unanimously appointed Pam Chenoweth as the board clerk and Mike Boyd as the deputy clerk.
• Unanimously elected Mark Grube as the board treasurer.
• Approved, 6-0, to continue with the Leavenworth Times as the official newspaper.
• Approved, 6-0, to use Community National Bank as the district's depository.
• Approved, 6-0, to have board meetings starting at 6 p.m. on the second Monday of each month.
• Approved, 6-0, the use of Facsimile Signature Plates.
• Approved, 6-0, early bill payments.
• Approved, 6-0, Pam Chenoweth to be the district's Kansas Public Employees Retirement System representative.
• Approved, 6-0, to continue with Lathrop and Gage as the district's legal counsel.
• Approved, 6-0, Howard to be the district's representative for outside agencies.
• Approved, 6-0, Dayna Miller and Wynne Coleman to be the district's Interest-Based Bargaining representatives.
• Approved, 6-0, Doug Bittel to be the district's Basehor-Linwood Education Foundation representative.
• Approved, 6-0, building principals and vice principals to be truancy officers.
• Approved, 6-0, Howard and the district's food service director to be the district's food service representatives.
• Approved, 6-0, Assistant Superintendent Mike Boyd as the food service hearing officer.
• Approved, 6-0, Howard as compliance officer for federal programs.
• Approved, 6-0, building principals as administrators of activity funds.
• Approved, 6-0, traveling allowances. They will be 47 cents per mile as district mileage reimbursement, $50 per day for meals while traveling and $100 per day for lodging.
• Approved, 6-0, to pay substitute teachers $50 for half a day, $95 for the first five days in the same classroom, $100 a day after 10 days and $115 per day there after.
• Approved, 6-0, $250 as the limit for petty cash.
• Approved, 6-0, a waiver of generally accepted accounting principals.
• Approved, 6-0, the 1,116-hour school calendar for 2010-2011.
• Approved, 6-0, a home rule resolution.
• Approved, 6-0, a destruction of records resolution.
• Approved, 6-0, a property and casualty insurance agreement with Riley and Sons.
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Rustic Finishes Intertwined with Gorgeous Green Spaces Inside An Phu House
Space is a luxury in Ho Chi Minh City and it is absolutely no surprise that every home that we come across in this bustling city trues its absolute best to make most of the vertical space on offer. Private residences that stretch across 4 or 5 different levels seem to be the norm here and while the fabulous An Phu House follows the same blueprint, that is where the common traits end.
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Andrew J. Benjamin, CFLS
I represent clients throughout San Diego County and other areas of California. Although I focus primarily on Family Law cases, I am also experienced in a variety of civil matters. My experience includes both working as an advocate for clients as well as performing mediation. I have handled cases involving professional athletes and other prominent individuals. I have experience with cases and appearances in family court, civil court, juvenile court, probate court, and bankruptcy court.
Prior to beginning my legal career, I worked as a Financial Analyst for both a Fortune 100 company and a venture capital funded software startup in Silicon Valley. My background in finance provides me with an extraordinary ability to assist clients involved in disputes requiring complex financial analysis (such as divorce).
In recognition of demonstrating a high level of experience, proficiency, and commitment to practicing Family Law, the State Bar of California Board of Legal Specialization has designated me as a Certified Family Law Specialist (CFLS). I have presented at a continuing education seminar for fellow attorneys and look forward to future opportunities at more public speaking engagements.Family Law cases and other legal matters generally involve very personal and sensitive issues which can become complex and emotionally charged. I strive to establish a reputation for handling legal disputes with the utmost discretion and I am dedicated to maintaining the privacy of my clients while working to protect their rights.
I aim to negotiate amicable solutions for my clients whenever possible in order to avoid the emotional and financial costs associated with litigation and a trial. However, I do believe every case is unique, and I take each of my client's desires into consideration when developing a personalized case plan.
Throughout your case, we will work together to find solutions that make sense for you. It is my goal to guide my clients through their situation and into the best possible position to move forward into a new future.