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Tuesday, December 17, 2013
My 2013 (Fantasy) Christmas List
Dear Santa,
Well, another year has come and gone during which I have been really good. Exceptionally good. Amazingly, outstandingly good. Not by choice, mind you, for at my age (and income level) the opportunities for being truly bad are few and far between, but we must judge people by their actions and not their intentions, right? Right? Oh, sweet Crom, I hope so.
The Noodle Incident doesn't count.
Anyway, the list...
Kindle books: any (or...ahem!...all) of the items on my Amazon.com Wish List would be greatly appreciated, but what I'd really like is a nice, shiny, new workspace. Okay, so maybe I don't actually "work" in my "workspace", so maybe I just want a cool-looking area to surf the Intarweb, watch YouTube videos of cute animals, suck up whatever looks interesting on Netflix, post the occasional blog entry, and perhaps write some tawdry little short stories (see Darkest Richmond). For those I'm going to need a work surface: the C-119 Flap Airplane Desk looks like a winner. Boy, does it ever! And if I get such a desk, I'm going to need something appropriate to sit on, like a F-4 Ejection Seat modified for home office use. Yeah, that's looking good. You know what else would be good? A new computer and I'm thinking the Alienware 18 Laptop fits the bill nicely. But we still need a touch of class, don't we? How about a tray of Doomed Crystal Skull Shotglasses? The perfect thing for chugging highly caffeinated beverages in small doses, say, Funranium Labs Black Blood of the Earth coffee extract (whose motto should be sleep and functioning kidneys are for the worthless and weak). And, just for the hell of it, how about a fancy letter opener? Maybe Ka-Bar's Black Kukri Machete? And a paperweight. A nice paperweight. A functional paperweight. A Magnum Research Desert Eagle in .50 AE, with polished chrome and muzzle brake. It can sit next to the Time Machine Chronambulator Dial Clock.
*sigh* Well, a fellow can dream, can't he?
Posted by G. W. Ferguson at 7:01 PM 1 comment: Links to this post
Monday, November 12, 2012
Chapter Eight of My 2012 NaNovWriMo Attempt
Chapter Eight
"Honey! I'm home!" Ron shouted as he came down the stairs, clutching a plastic bag and big red cup of something.
"Jesus, dude!" I shouted back, startled. "You scared me! What time is it?"
"I'm not sure. Late. And sorry, that wasn't my intention." Ron was slurring ever so slightly.
"You went across the street, didn't you?" I said.
"I did, I did. That's a hell of a crew over there, y'know? Plenty of booze but not a lot of women."
"Did you see Sarah?"
"Nope. She was around, though. One of those big guys said she was out back doing something with sheet metal and a welding torch. Oh, here's the extension cords." Ron struggled awkwardly with his cup and the bag. "I got two long ones since I figure we'd better run the heater off the kitchen circuit rather than risk another blackout."
"Good idea."
"Oh, and here's a drink for you," he said, handing me the cup. "It's got vodka in it."
Vodka and cherry Kool-Aid, as it turned out. A little sweet, but not bad for a freebie.
Ron cocked his head and looked around the basement. "What's that hissing noise?"
"Oh, Jesus, The still! Ron, do me a favor and go plug in those extension cords." I rushed over to see what was happening.
With a slight whistle, steam emerged from the nozzle of the condensing unit and a few drops of clear liquid fell to the floor. I noted a distinctly chemical smell, vaguely alcohol-like. "Bottle," I muttered to myself. "Funnel." I grabbed a plastic gallon milk jug and a stainless steel funnel, placed them under the condenser, and started collecting what old-time moonshiners called the foreshots.
"Hey, Ron!" I shouted. "It's working! We've got alcohol!"
Ron literally galloped down the steps, almost tripping in the process, and stood beside me, an expression of awe on his face.
"I smell it," he said.
"Me, too." We stared at the steaming still.
"We made that," Ron said.
"I know."
"I thought it would come out faster," Ron said.
"Well, so did I... oh, shit. Cooling water. We need cooling water." I checked the condenser hose connections, grabbed for the faucet, and turned it on full force.
"Oh, damn it. Not again. Please, not again," I said. "This is so not the time." I looked at Ron. "We cannot catch a damn break this evening."
The pipes shuddered and groaned as if possessed, but this time the noise stopped after a only a couple of minutes and, to my surprise, mostly clear water flowed freely from the condenser's cooling jacket.
"Maybe our luck is changing," Ron said.
Not surprisingly, two working heaters and a properly adjusted condenser made a huge difference in performance. I noted a steady but not alarming rise in the still's temperature while Ron stared, transfixed, at the filling milk jug.
"I've got to have a taste," he said.
"Uh, that's not a particularly good idea." I checked the thermometer. "At this temperature, what's coming off now is mostly methanol, you know, wood alcohol, the stuff that makes you go blind and die. There's some other nasty crap in there, too, so you definitely don't want to drink it."
"Well, shit. Is that normal?"
"Yeah, it just happens to be what distills off first, at least that's what all the books and websites say, and it's a good thing it does or the whole batch would be poison. The good stuff should be coming in just a few minutes."
"How will we know?"
"Alcohol boils at 173 degrees Fahrenheit, so once we hit that, we'll start collecting for real."
I stood there watching the thermometer while Ron paced the basement, stopping every now and then to look at me and the still. You'd have thought he was expecting a baby, the way he was acting, and maybe, in a sense, he was. This was all his idea to begin with, his money funding the project, and though I hadn't kept close tabs on our expenses, Ron's bank account had to be considerably drained. The poor guy had reasons to be anxious.
Suddenly, the still started sputtering.
"What's that? What's that?" Ron ran over and looked at the collecting jug. "It stopped. What's happening?"
"I don't know. Wait a minute. Let's not panic." I checked the thermometer again, then tapped it a couple of times.
"It's not going to blow up, is it?" Ron said.
"No, it's okay, we're good. It's holding steady at 173 degrees. Let's switch containers." I moved the first jug out of the way and positioned a second one just in time to capture a steady flow of clear liquid.
"That's what we're after," I said, sticking my finger into the stream and taking a little taste. It was hot and raw and unrefined with just a hint of paint thinner, but beneath that was a certain grainy sweetness.
It tasted like whiskey.
Not great whiskey, not something you'd serve to friends or mix drinks with, unaged, unmellowed, and unblended as it was, but it definitely smelled like whiskey, tasted like whiskey, and burned like whiskey.
"Well?" Ron said. "Can I try it?"
"Have at it, but try and keep your expectations low. It isn't smooth and it's not a consumer-grade product by any stretch of the imagination. It needs to rest for about three to five years in a charred oak barrel."
Ron found my cup of Kool-Aid and vodka, dumped the remnants into the sink, rinsed it with the condenser cooling jacket outflow, snagged a sample from the still, and took a cautious sip.
"Huh. You're right. It's not great, but it is whiskey. Not rum, not vodka, not Everclear, but whiskey." Ron smiled. "I kind of like it," he said, taking another sip and rolling it around on his tongue. "It needs some ice cubes and soda or something to get rid of that solvent taste, but yeah, I can drink this."
"Well, we're not going to be winning a blue ribbon award any time soon, but for a first attempt, I think we've done pretty well. In fact, we did far better than I had any right to imagine, given the night we've had."
The milk jug was almost full, so I switched it out for another, snagging another taste in the process. Yes, it still tasted like whiskey.
"So how many gallons are we going to get," Ron asked.
"I don't know. I'm happy to get one, but with ten gallons of mash, I don't know. Maybe two, possibly three." I checked the thermometer again. "Temperature's still holding. That's a good sign."
"Two gallons doesn't sound like very much."
"It isn't, but remember, this is just a test run. I deliberately kept it small so we could iron out any problems before committing to distilling any significant volume, and man, you saw what it was like earlier this evening."
"A veritable shit storm," Ron said.
"We'll do better with our next run."
"I sure hope so. Oh, I was wondering, how will we know when it's done?"
"Well, I don't want the still to run dry for a couple of reason. One, we'll never get it clean if we do, and two, eventually we'll have distilled out all the drinkable alcohol and start getting some seriously crappy stuff again. Fusel oils and such. We're going to have to sample it at regular intervals and stop when it starts to taste bad."
"I see no problem there." Ron grinned.
I laughed. "Really, I don't, either. Just take it easy, okay? Getting sloshed now could be an unmitigated disaster."
"Moderation is my middle name."
"I thought you were the one always quoting Robert Heinlein: 'Moderation is for monks.'"
"Oh, whatever. I was probably drunk."
We filled the second jug and started on a third.
"This is where we have to be extra careful," I said, "or we could end up contaminating our batch with what real moonshiners called 'the tails' and the stuff will taste nasty. According to the books, this is going to happen when the thermometer reaches about 205 degrees Fahrenheit, but I don't trust that, which is why we're going to do taste tests. If it starts going bad or we hit 200 degrees, whatever comes first, we shut down."
We sat in companionable, boozy silence for a while, listening to the still hiss and the water run, taking occasional sips of our very first batch of home brewed whiskey whenever it seemed appropriate.
"Do you hear something dripping?" Ron asked.
"Actually, I do. What is that?"
"I'm not sure."
Suddenly, the sump pump in the corner roared to life.
"Oh, shit," Ron said. "The sink's overflowing."
"Crap. Oh, man, there's water all over the place. Unplug the still."
I meant for Ron to pull the extension cords from their respective outlets. Instead, he unplugged the heaters and dropped the extension cords into the growing pool of water. Sparks flew, there was a loud bang, and the basement was immediately plunged into darkness. Again.
"Where's the flashlight?"
"On the work bench."
"Where's the work bench?"
"Behind you. Be careful not to..."
There was a soggy thump as Ron slipped and fell into a puddle of water.
"Damn it..."
"You okay?" I was feeling my way to the sink, being very careful not to grab a double handful of hot still in the process. Tepid water filled my shoes as I turned off the tap.
"Yeah," Ron said. "Where's that damn flashlight? Oh, got it."
"If you're planning on changing the fuse again, I'd make sure the extension cords were out of the water first."
"Good point."
I heard a slithering noise as Ron dragged the cords across the floor and placed them on the work bench.
"We've got one fuse left," Ron said.
"Let's hope that's all we need, at least for tonight."
Ron fumbled with the fuse box for a minute or so until the lights came back on.
"This is not a level floor," Ron said, looking around. "How come I didn't notice that before?"
He was right. There was a large pool of water in the corner under the sink and watery pseudopods going out from there and off in several directions following hitherto unsuspected ridges and valleys.
"You think they evened this out with a bulldozer blade?" I said.
"Tank treads are more likely. Damaged tank treads."
"Damaged, rusty tank treads from the battlefields of World War I."
'Damaged, rusty World War I tank treads with bundles of barbed wire sticking out all over."
"Damaged, rusty... you know what? We're a little drunk."
Ron crossed his eyes and made a goofy face. "No, we're a lot drunk. I need to go to bed. We can clean this up in the morning."
I glanced at my wrist watch. "Actually, it is morning, but, yeah, let's deal with this later. Let me cap that last jug."
So there we were, a little soggy, a little drunk, a little tired, older, maybe wiser, with two and a half gallons of homemade hooch from an illegal still in our basement. It was time for bed.
Posted by G. W. Ferguson at 1:37 PM 1 comment: Links to this post
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Chapter Seven of My 2012 NaNoWriMo Attempt
Chapter Seven
"Jesus God," Ron said. "This place smells like Satan's bakery. What's in that stuff, moldy sourdough bread soaked in kerosene?"
It was early evening and we were in the basement, surrounded by several vats of fermenting mash, most of them bubbling and roiling like some kind of turbo-charged witch's brew.
"It's just bottled water, sugar, corn, rye, barley, malt, and some of that super-yeast we got at the wine-making store. I kind of like it."
"You would," Ron said, breathing through his mouth. "You like the smell of unleaded gasoline."
"And other petroleum distillates. Let's not leave anything out."
"So where do we stand? I'm getting tired of waiting around with my thumb up my ass. I wanna make some booze."
"Well..." I looked around, did some quick mental calculations, and walked over to one of the plastic buckets. "It's been five days and batch number one should be just about ready. According to the instructions, once the bubbling stops and the yeast settles out, we should have something on the order of thirty per cent alcohol."
"Damn. Hot damn! And that's before we even run it through the still. What are we going to get afterwards?"
"That's a good question and the answer is, I have no idea. We'll just have to run it and see what happens."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"Nothing, I guess. Help me lift this thing onto the work bench. Gently. Try not to disturb the sediment."
Ten gallons doesn't sound like much, but it translates to over eighty pounds of awkward, dead weight. Since neither one of us had any real upper body strength, there was a certain amount of grunting and groaning involved as we hoisted the bucket onto the bench.
"Jesus God, it smells even worse close up," Ron said.
"It's no bouquet of roses, I'll admit. Now, where's that Tygon tubing? I'm going to siphon it into the still."
Ron nodded, moved over to the still, and started trying to pry off the head assembly.
"Damn, that's tight. Give me a hand, will ya?"
Ron wasn't kidding. The head was on tight. We tried pulling, then twisting, then pulling again and still the head resisted.
"Bang on it with something," Ron said.
I grabbed a rubber mallet off the work bench and whacked the join a couple of times.
"Okay," I said. "That should do it."
It didn't.
I whacked it a few more times, then Ron and I grabbed the head assembly as tightly as we could, twisting and pulling at the same time. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then there was a sudden screeching of metal and the head came free.
"That's one hell of a flange. We should put some grease on that or something," Ron said.
"Yeah, that's a good idea... wait, is that a dead mouse?"
Ron peered into the base of the still. "Yep. Two of 'em. Dead and mummified." He dumped them out onto the floor.
"Oh, gross." I took the base from Ron, carried it over to the sink, and turned on the faucet full force.
"John, don't!"
The room filled with a deafening THRUMUMUMUMUMUMUMSHREEEEEEEEEE as something resembling liquid sewage spewed and sputtered from the tap.
"Oh, damn it all to hell" I scrambled to turn off the tap.
"Let it flow," Ron yelled. "The one thing we haven't tried is flushing the pipes until they run clear. Leave it alone for a minute."
The pipes pounded and vibrated in a manic symphony of demonic noise that would have made Einsturzende Neubauten envious, but the sputtering water slowly changed from sewage-colored to muddy. A minute passed. Then two. Then three. A sulfurous odor filled the basement.
"It's not getting better," I yelled at Ron.
"I know," Ron yelled back. "Maybe we should..."
And suddenly, miraculously, the pipes stopped banging and the water flowed in a steady stream.
"Praise Jesus," Ron said.
"Hail Satan," I said.
I rinsed the copper base of the still, scoured it with sanitizer, rinsed it some more, then carried it back to its place near the work bench.
"Let's try again," I said. "Tygon, please."
I cut off a convenient length of tubing, placed one end just beneath the surface of the liquid in the bucket and starting sucking on the other end as hard as I could, trying to start a siphon. I got one, alright, and a mouthful of nasty-tasting ferment in the process. Quickly, I dropped my end of the tube into the still base and then proceeded to retch.
"Oh, gawd, that's foul," I said, spitting onto the floor. "But judging from the taste, there's alcohol in there." I spit again. "Do we have anything to drink that doesn't come out of the faucet?"
"We've got some Diet Pepsi and some orange juice," Ron said. "I could make a pot of coffee."
"No, I don't want to wait for coffee. It tastes like the entire Russian Army just held field maneuvers in their muddy boots on my tongue. I'll be right back." I dashed up the stairs and grabbed an orange juice for me and a Diet Pepsi for Ron.
Somewhere out front of our apartment someone was playing a sound system at top volume. I looked out the front door.
Vintage rockabilly was playing and a slew of biker types, both male and female, emanated from the anarchists' collective and began dancing in the front yard, drinking from forty ounce bottles of malt liquor, cavorting, and just having a good time in general. There were the occasional sounds of breaking glass, high-pitched female laughter, and good-natured drunken revelry.
Huh, I thought. Sarah never said anything about having a party. I wonder why we weren't invited? Oh, it doesn't matter. We're working.
I went back to the basement.
"Jesus, John," Ron said. "Is there any faster way to fill this thing?"
The bucket was emptying, but oh so slowly. "Guess I should have gotten some wider diameter tubing. I'll add that to my list."
We waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, after about twenty minutes, most of the cloudy liquid slop from the bucket was in the still, leaving only a slimy mass of dead yeast and fermented grain.
"Now can we run the still? Ron asked
"Now we can run the still," I said, replacing the head assembly. "All we have to do is plug it in, hook up water to the condenser, and let 'er rip."
"Uh, problem."
"Well, as I see it, the electrical outlets are over here and the sink is way over there where there are no electrical outlets."
"Oh," I said.
"We're going to need a couple of long extension cords or some really long hoses with fittings."
"Do we have any extension cords?"
"I've got one in the train room," Ron said.
"We're going to need two. Two heaters, two cords."
"Okay," Ron said. "How about a really long cord with a power strip on one end."
"Ron, you're a mad genius! Go get it and I'll move the still closer to the sink."
I could tell by the way Ron ran up the basement steps he was really excited by the prospect of running our still for the first time. Ron never ran anywhere, if he could help it. Hell, neither did I, but his excitement was contagious. I started pushing the still closer to the sink.
Which wasn't going to happen without a struggle. Thirty pounds of copper plus eighty pounds of liquid equals, well, a problem.
'Hey, Ron," I yelled. "I need some help here."
Ron clomped down the stairs, a coiled yellow extension cord hanging from his shoulder.
"This'll takes care of our electrical problem. What do you need?"
"Help me move the still."
"Sure. Is it that heavy?"
"Oh, yeah. Give it a try."
Ron pushed, I pulled, and the still moved reluctantly.
"Wait a minute," Ron said. "We're going about this all wrong. Friction is not our friend. Hold on a sec." Ron ran back up the basement steps, then returned with a double handful of wooden dowels.
"We're going to use these as rollers," he said, laying the dowels in a path from the still to the sink. "I don't know why I didn't think of this to begin with."
"Well, it never occurred to me, either, not that I knew we had rollers. Maybe our blood sugar is low."
"Doesn't matter," Ron said. "Let's push."
The dowels worked like a charm and with only a little effort, we situated the still near the sink. I quickly attached the intake and outflow hoses to the condenser while Ron unraveled the extension cord, plugged it into an outlet, then attached the two heating elements to the power strip.
There was a loud pop, a brief flash of sparks from somewhere in the corner, and the room went pitch black.
"Fuck!" we said, simultaneously.
"I'm betting we don't have a flashlight down here, do we?" Ron said.
"I'm betting you're right. I think I've got one in the bedroom, though."
"Let's hope so. When you said distilling wasn't as easy as I might think, I had no idea this kind of shit would happen." Ron stumbled a bit making his way back to the work bench.
"Well, it wasn't exactly what I envisioned, either. Dionysus is not smiling upon us tonight," I said.
"Dionysus. The Greek god of wine, intoxication, and ritual madness. Guess he's busy at the party across the street."
"There's a party across the street?"
"You didn't notice when you went upstairs? Well, cool your jets there, son. It's a big biker bash to which we were not invited and besides, we're working, remember?"
I worked my way cautiously to the steps and went off to find my flashlight.
The party at the anarchists' collective was still going strong; in fact, it had grown. People were milling about in the street, in the front yard, in our front yard, and in the neighbors' front yards. Motorcycles of all shapes and sizes were everywhere, their comings and goings punctuated by loud bass engine noises I felt as much as heard. People were having a good time. Sex and drugs and rock and roll filled the night air. Yeah, I thought. There's our problem. Dionysus is too busy getting down with his twenty-first century posse to shower us with blessings, the freak.
"Where the hell is that flashlight?" Ron's voice came up from the basement.
"I'm coming, I'm coming." I stumbled a bit coming down the darkened steps.
"Well, it's about time," Ron said. "Where's the breaker box?"
We searched around for a bit, my tiny flashlight casting a dim, barely sufficient glow, until we came to a dusty, cobweb-encrusted metal door in the wall.
"Shit," said Ron. "Fuses, not breakers. Old ones." He sighed deeply. "I don't suppose you know where any fuses are, by chance?"
"Couldn't we just jam a penny in there?"
"Besides the fact that's a sure way to get electrocuted, not to mention start a house fire, these aren't screw-in fuses. They're older than that."
"So what do we do?"
"Well, there's nothing in the fuse box, nothing on the fuse box. Let's look on the work bench."
Sure enough, there, in plain sight, was a faded box of old school tube fuses.
"These things are ancient. Better unplug the heaters while I stick this in."
I snickered.
"What?" Ron said.
"You're going to stick in in."
"Are you high?"
"No, just a little giddy. Everything's unplugged."
There was a sharp electrical crack, a couple of bluish sparks, and the lights came back on.
"Well, that was entertaining," Ron said. "Let's try it with one heating element."
I took in a deep breath, inserted the plug, then exhaled when I saw the heating unit's little orange indicator light come on.
"And we have ignition."
"Great. Now what?"
"Now we watch the temperature, wait for things to boil, turn on the water to the condenser, and start collecting our alcohol."
"How long will that take?"
"I have no idea. Probably a while, since we only have the one heating element. You got another extension cord somewhere?"
"No, but if this is going to take a while, I could run down to Walgreen's or someplace and buy one."
"Might not be a bad idea."
"Of course, I just might have to check out that party, too."
I gave Ron my best look of exasperation, then said, "Go ahead. This could wind up being an all-night affair anyway. No sense in both of us being bored."
"I'll be right back, I promise."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You'll be right back. I've heard that line before. Try not to to pick up any STDs while you're at it."
"No STDs. Just an extension cord. Got it."
With Ron gone the basement was quiet except for the faint din of the party outside and another noise else I couldn't quite place. Was that bubbling? Were we at a boil already? I put my hand on the base of the still and noted warmth and a slight vibration. Okay, something was going right. The heater was working and the mash was warming up. Knowing I was going to be disappointed, I checked the thermometer and, yep, sure enough, we had a long way to go before hitting the boiling point of alcohol; hell, we hadn't even reached body temperature. I went upstairs to grab my pen and notebook.
Except for the motorcycles and a few beat-up old cars, the streets were empty, the party having moved inside as far as I could tell. No surprise there; it was getting a bit damp and chilly. Then, too, the police only patrolled this neighborhood at night and I was sure no one wearing biker colors, drunk or sober, wanted to tangle with Richmond's Finest. They had guns and Tasers and weren't afraid to use them. In fact, if local folklore held true, the police got quite a kick out of using their Tasers. It was cheap entertainment and I shuddered at the thought.
I wonder what Sarah is up to? I thought. I wonder what bikers and anarchists do at a house party. They probably didn't sit around sipping brandy and reading Kropotkin in the original Russian. Maybe they had wild sex orgies and rolled around naked on torn-out pages from Ronald Reagan's memoirs. Or the Warren Commission report. Who knows?
I grabbed an orange juice and went back downstairs, where I was pleased to note a thin trickle of steam emerging from where the base and the head joined. Good deal! We're getting somewhere now. I sat on a kitchen stool at the work bench and made a few notes.
Posted by G. W. Ferguson at 10:53 PM No comments: Links to this post
Chapter Six of My 2012 NaNoWriMo Attempt
Chapter Six
Oh, sweet Jeebus, "Magic Carpet Ride" as interpreted by the entire membership of the International Plumbers' Union while drunk. And on acid. In the midst of an epileptic seizure. I nearly fell out of bed from the godawful noise. Why hadn't giant glowing beach towel Elvis protected me? And who the hell was messing with the pipes? And worse, why did my bedside alarm clock say eight a. m.?
"Rise and shine, little buddy," Ron shouted from the bathroom, his voice only slightly muffled by toothpaste. "Time to rub the sleep out of your eyes and greet the new day!"
Oh, of course. Ron was one of those horrible morning people.
"Who the hell are you, my mother?" I shouted back. "What happened to 'the crack of noon?'"
"Meh. You're going to squander the best part of the day. We've got things to do and places to go. Stuff to move and stuff to buy."
Slowly, painfully I attempted to focus my eyes and roll out of bed. "You know," I said, a bit blearily, "when normal people don't have to work they like to sleep in. Late."
"One," Ron said as he threw open my door, "we're not normal people and we never will be. Two, we are working, or rather, we will be once you get up and put some clothes on."
"Are you on meth or something? You're awfully chipper for a guy who spent yesterday driving around all over the state."
"Exciting times ahead, John! A new day, new beginnings, new projects, we've got to get cracking if we're going to get ahead of the game. Oh, and there's coffee and Krispy Kreme doughnuts in the kitchen."
I looked at the window and said, "thank you, Jeebus; thank you, Elvis, thank you, J. R. 'Bob' Dobbs."
"Who are you talking to?"
"Deities. My very own short duration personal saviors with whom I will be sharing a very caffeinated and very sugar-laden communion as soon as I can find my pants."
"Well, okay then."
"So are we moving your stuff this morning?" I said.
"Actually, there's good news and bad news. Mostly good news for you and some bad news for me."
"How so?
"Well, there's not a lot of my stuff to move, courtesy of the Girlfriend From Hell. Apparently, she went on a rampage after I called her, burned most of my stuff in a backyard bonfire, and now all I've got are a couple of suitcases, a trunk, that stained mattress we were using as a doggie bed, and my computer stuff. I got lucky, I suppose, but some of it is kind of smoky, so heads up. I did manage to rescue, well, you know."
"Oh, Christ," I said. "The layout."
"Yeah, the layout."
Have I mentioned that Ron is a model railroad buff? Yeah, HO scale all the way. He got into it in his early teens and over the years has amassed a huge, and I mean huge, collection of brass locomotives worth thousands of dollars along with rolling stock, miles of track, tons of scenery, and who knows how many itty-bitty metal figures. When he got into model construction, he built what amounted to a small city's worth of structures complete with weathering, advertisements, graffitti, electric lighting, myriads of geeky goodness. It's his pride, his joy, and his singular obsession-- excluding inappropriate women-- an entire world on a nine by twelve foot table.
"Where is it now?" I asked.
"You know the front room across from the living room slash library?"
"What I assumed was the dining room? Yeah."
"It's has been officially commandeered and designated the Train Room."
"Oh. Okay. I've never been one for formal dinners, anyway," I said. "I'm more into microwave burritos and paper plates. Where's all the stuff now?"
"It's here. Downstairs. My sister's husband helped me load it into his truck and those four guys from across the street helped me get it into the house."
"Oh, yeah? Was Sarah with them?"
"No, unfortunately, Ron said with a slight leer. "She's pretty hot in a goth trash sort of way. Oh, who am I kidding? Given the chance, I'd hit that so hard whoever pulled me out would be the rightful king of all England."
"And can you imagine a threesome with her and Tara? Oh, man! What do you want to bet they both have piercings in places you wouldn't expect?"
"Changing the subject," I said. "What, exactly, are we doing today if we're not moving you in?"
"I'm thinking it's time we check out The Little Old Winemaker and spend a little money."
"Color me confused, but who do we know that makes wine? Hell, who do we know that drinks wine, unless it's Boone's Farm? Is this person a consultant or something?"
"The Little Old Winemaker is not a person, it's this funky store in Lakeside that sells beer and winemaking supplies. The guy in Goochland was telling me about it, said it was your one-stop shopping source for all things booze-related."
"What, the guy with the still?"
"The very one. He's done it all: cider, beer, wine; in fact, he had such good luck with wine he wanted to branch out into brandy. He even had wooden casks for aging. You know, we might want to think about that at some point."
"Uh, don't count your barrels just yet. We've got a lot of things to do before we can even think of trying out our still."
"Exactly, and time's a-wastin'. Grab your shopping list and let's see what's what."
I got my notebook, filled a big travel mug with coffee, and grabbed a couple of doughnuts Okay, three doughnuts, but it was early and my blood sugar and caffeine levels were nowhere near optimum.
When Ron said the place was "funky," he wasn't exaggerating. Set back in a little strip mall parallel to Lakeside Drive, The Little Old Winemaker was completely at odds with its surroundings. It was as if a tiny piece of 19th Century rural Bavaria had been magically transported to Richmond and plopped down to live placidly amid the appliance stores, service stations, soul food eateries, and 7-11s. Funky, too, were the smells we encountered as soon as we passed through the door: yeasty bread, dusty grains, a faint whiff of wood smoke, a hint of ripe apples... I was reminded of when I used to visit my grandfather's tobacco farm as a child and play in the hay loft. The walls were darkened wood and covered in advertising posters for obscure beers, exotic wines, and vineyards local and foreign. Well-dressed, soft-spoken customers browsed the aisles and shelves.
It was charming.
"So what are we looking for," Ron asked.
"Well, yeast for one, a couple of ten gallon fermenters, which are just glorified food grade plastic buckets, unless you want to go the stainless or copper route."
"Are they better?
"I don't know if they're better, but they're certainly more expensive."
"Then plastic works for me."
"Let's see, lids for the buckets, a couple of airlocks..."
"One way valves. When we start fermenting stuff, we want a way to keep out the airborne nasties while venting all the carbon dioxide we'll be making."
"This is getting complicated," Ron said.
"I warned you. And we're going to need cheesecloth for filtering, some kind of sanitizing agent for the buckets, some plastic tubing, oh, and a decent grade hydrometer. Then there's corn, malted barley, rye, rye malt..."
"Enough. Let's start shopping," Ron sighed.
The store's layout was a little confusing, but the sales associate was busy briefing this nice-looking gay couple on the finer points of home-aging sherry and port, so Ron and I fumbled around for a bit before finding all the stuff we needed. That was fine as far as I was concerned, since even a cursory glance would tell any astute home brewer exactly what we were planning on doing. Let's be clear: home distilling is illegal. Highly illegal. The Feds don't care if it's a little or a lot; if you're running a still to make alcohol for human consumption, regardless of the quantity and regardless of whether you drink it or sell it or give it away, you're breaking several state and federal laws and can wind up in a dank, dark prison cell for a very long time. Someday the laws may change, just as they did for wine- and beer-making, but someday is not today. I was a little nervous.
We hauled our stuff over to the main counter.
"Okay," said the clerk. "What have we got here?" He began muttering to himself as he tallied up our purchases, then said, "You know this is a Tralles hydrometer, right?"
"What's a Tralles hydrometer?" Ron asked
The clerk looked at Ron for a second. "You use a Tralles hydrometer to figure out the alcoholic content of a liquid based on its specific gravity. You take pre- and post-fermentation readings and from that you can calculate..." His voice trailed off when he saw the expression on my face.
"You're not..." the clerk said.
I stood there open-mouthed.
The clerk's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because I don't want to know if you are."
I stood there at a loss for words.
"Let's speak hypothetically for a moment," he said, glancing to his left and right. "Purely hypothetically."
"If someone, not you two, but someone, wanted to, oh, let's say, ferment a large volume of material really fast, he might want something a little more powerful than champagne yeast."
"He might want a variety of what is called a turbo yeast. It's fast, it's resistant to alcohol, which means it can survive when the concentration is high and make more alcohol, and most importantly, it comes complete with a slew of additional nutrients and pH adjusters so as to make futzing with it significantly trivial. It can survive. It can kick ass. You, uh, he just adds the yeast at the right moment and at the right temperature and lets it do it's thing."
"But it's tricky for wine-making. It brings things to a ferment really fast and it generates a lot of alcohol. A lot. A wine-maker could, entirely by accident, ruin his otherwise perfectly good wine by turning it into something only useful if he were interested in distilling it, which he would not be, in which case the winemaker would not have wine. That would be sad. You understand?"
"Okay." I smiled a little.
"A wine-maker would have to be extremely careful with a turbo yeast or he's going to wind up with a high-proof wine that would be completely undrinkable as it was. It would be beyond insolent and ill-mannered; it would be a pugnacious bully. One would be overwhelmed by the alcohol burn. And that's not what one looks for in a good wine. Excuse me for a moment."
The clerk disappeared behind a curtain then returned holding a couple of test tubes sealed with black plastic screw caps. Inside them was a noxious-looking brown slurry.
"This is a new product, a strain called THX-1138 from the W. A. Sallee labs in Chicago. It's for experimental wine-making purposes only, though it may possibly have other uses. You may also find it... amusing." The clerk smiled and handed me some stapled papers. "And these are the instructions. They reiterate what I said about it being tricky for wine-making. Be sure to read them carefully."
"Okay," I said.
The clerk rang up our purchases, smiled again, and said, "Well, gentlemen, I look forward to hearing about your disasters in... wine-making. Please keep me posted." He winked.
"What just happened?" asked Ron, as we carried our stuff to the truck.
"In legal terms, I think we just gained an accessory before the fact."
"Is that a good thing?"
"I guess we'll find out." I looked at the instructions the clerk had handed me:
So You Want To Make Some Tasty Booze: A Guide to the Effective Use of THX-1138 in Home Distilling.
"It's a good thing, Ron. Let's go buy some sugar."
Posted by G. W. Ferguson at 12:04 PM No comments: Links to this post
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Chapter Five of My 2012 NaNoWriMo Attempt
Chapter Five
"Behold!" Ron said as he walked me to the bed of the pick-up truck.
"Ooo. Aah. Ohh." I said sarcastically. "A bunch of cardboard boxes and a big-ass something or other under a moving pad. I swoon. I plotz."
"You will in a minute," Ron said. "Look behind the curtain."
I wasn't sure I wanted to touch the filthy, smelly quilt covering the whatever it was, but sometimes you just have to roll up your sleeves, say what the fuck, and go for it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I lifted a convenient corner.
The setting sun glinted gloriously off the shiniest conglomeration of metalwork I had ever seen.
"Is that what I think it is?" I said.
"It is, indeed. That, my friend, is a genuine, all-copper, hand-hammered, hand-riveted, hand-constructed, never before used twenty gallon pot still. And it's ours."
"Sweet Jesus, it's beautiful," I said, slowly pulling off the cover. "That's a work of art. It's functional sculpture at its finest. It's glowing and shiny and curvaceous and sexy and I want to marry it. Where the hell did you find it?"
"Four words to know and live by: 'Craigslist is our friend.' Some guy out in Goochland bought it and then had second thoughts or something. That, or his wife raised hell when she saw the price tag. Anyway, he put it up for sale at about half of its original cost and I haggled him down a little more by waving some cash under his nose."
"It's... it's... beautiful. I'm afraid to touch it."
"Well, cover it up. No sense in advertising to the neighborhood that we've got a still. That's just asking for trouble. We'll move it in after the sun sets, safe from prying eyes."
"Actually" I said, looking around, "we should move it in now. In these parts, if you leave something of any value lying around unsecured it's considered a donation to the community. Copper is a big ticket item in distressed neighborhoods, which is why you'll never find electrical wiring in an empty house."
Ron scanned the anarchists' collective across the street and said, "I see what you mean. Okay, let's move it."
"What's in all the other boxes?"
"Oh, well the big one houses the still condenser assembly and the others? Well, take a look."
Ron reached into his pocket, pulled out a Swiss Army knife, slit the tape on one of the boxes, and uncovered a dozen one liter Florence flasks.
"Aren't they cool?" Ron said.
"Well, yeah, I suppose, but what do you want with a bunch of round-bottomed flasks, unless..."
"Exactly! You said Ball Mason jars were trite and passé and, let's face it, with the exception of Crystal Head Vodka, most liquor bottles are not particularly exciting, so when I saw these on Craigslist..."
"You bought a shitload."
"I bought a shitload. A double shitload. About five hundred of them, to be exact. For cash, so there's no paper trail, and at a huge discount. Incidentally, there are more where these came from in case we should need them." Ron was grinning from ear to ear. "I could have gotten a bunch of old-school ceramic jugs, but they all had labels and needed some serious cleaning, so I figured that was just too much damn work. These things, on the other hand, are almost sterile and laboratory-ready."
"I've got to admit, I think you're on to something. Then again, we're not going to have anything to put in them for at least a couple of weeks and maybe longer if things don't go well. There are about ten thousand details we've got to consider." The immensity of what we were about to do swept over me and it must have shown on my face.
"And there go the negative waves again. You need to embrace the power of positive thinking or you're going to become an old man before your time. Visualize. Actualize. Synthesize."
"Yeah, and in the meantime I'm tired as shit and we've still got a bunch of boxes and one highly illegal still to move."
"So let's get cracking," Ron said.
To my surprise, we got everything into the basement with only a minimum of trouble. The boxes of flasks were easy; as far as weight was concerned they were inconsequential. The main body of the still, on the other hand, though not particularly heavy, was big, bulky, slippery, and awkward as hell to move, but after only a couple of sphincter-clenching moments when it didn't look as though it would fit through the door, we got it down the stairs and into position.
"Look at it," Ron said. "That's our future gleaming there."
"That was almost poetic, ya big lug," I said. "Only, let's hope our future doesn't involve prison cells and big bad men in need of butt buddies. I'm fragile." I thought for a moment then looked at Ron. "Now what?"
"A couple of things. I've got to get the pick-up back to my sister's husband and I'm thinking we'd better get a padlock for the basement door just in case."
"Just in case of what?" I asked.
"Just... in case. Nosy neighbors. Wandering landlords. Desperate crackheads. Whatever."
"Based on what I've seen, our landlord is not apt to wander anywhere on foot."
"I'm still going to pick one up on the way back. You need anything?"
I stared at the still shining in the center of our basement floor and thought for a moment. What did I need? The name of a good lawyer? Just... in case? A copy of Virginia's legal code? A bottle of Valium? Zen mind? A nap?
"Nah, I'm good. I'm going to go upstairs, set up my bedroom, then sleep for about a hundred years."
"Uh, don't forget I've still got stuff to move," Ron said.
"Tomorrow, dude. Tomorrow."
Ron glanced at his wristwatch. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll drag your ass out of bed somewhere around, what, the crack of noon?"
"And not before. Thanks."
Ron clomped up the wooden stairs, leaving me in quiet solitude.
I could hear a faint music and a police siren in the distance. A couple of neighborhood dogs barked half-heartedly, then all was silence as a profound sense of melancholy overcame me.
"Well, buddy," I addressed the still. "It's just you and me. I suppose we're going to become close friends, eventually, but right now I'm just a bit overwhelmed by everything."
The house creaked in response.
"I suppose if Ron is right and there really is a market for artisanal booze, then all this is going to be the start of an exciting new venture with us right smack on the cutting edge, and let's be honest, I've never been on the cutting edge of much of anything ever. I should be thrilled as all get-out."
The still said nothing.
"But let me tell you something: I'm not. I'm not fond of unpredictability and this little project is about as unpredictable as anything I've ever encountered. And yeah, maybe Jobs and Wozniak started out in a garage, but I bet they had access to working plumbing. I have no idea what's going to happen the first time I flush the toilet in this place. Maybe a sewage apocalypse. Or worse."
The dogs started barking again, then quieted.
"I'm broke, my girlfriend is long gone, I don't have any family to speak of and no close friends, except for Ron, and here I am starting a new life on the wrong side of town in one of the world's older and shadier professions. 'John Griggs, potential urban moonshiner.' Sounds like a Saturday Night Live skit."
"On the other hand, I'll be my own boss and at least have the chance of making some money without having to say 'you want fries with that?'"
More silence.
"Oh, well. It's getting late and as much as I hate to leave you alone on your first night here, I'm exhausted. See ya in the morning." I trudged up the stairs feeling more tired than I'd felt in years.
The bedroom was in total disarray, though the Four Stooges had been kind enough to assemble my bed, even to the point of making a half-assed attempt at fitting it with sheets and blankets, which was a little creepy now that I thought about it. Unfortunately, they had then piled it high with clothes, boxes of books, a couple of suitcases, and my two nightstands. I appreciated the effort, I did, but really... the dresser was facing backwards, its drawers against the wall, and my writing desk was standing on end in front of the closet. An errant box of dishes peeked out at me from under the bed. The floor was covered in bits of cardboard and packing tape, my lamps were nowhere in sight, and the whole scene was more than a little stark, gloomy, and depressing, lit as it was by a single bare bulb in the ceiling.
"You're going to want curtains."
"Sweet screaming Jesus!" I shouted, then whirled around to face the bedroom door, my heart pounding, adrenalin coursing through my veins.
"Relax, man," said Sarah, leaning against the door frame. "The serial killers hang out on Southside this time of night. You're reasonably safe here, though if I were you I'd start locking my front door. Otherwise, you'll attract an unsavory element... like me."
"You scared the shit out of me."
Sarah did an exaggerated neck-craning thing. "I dunno... your floor and pants look pretty shit-free to me, but either way, you're still going to need curtains."
"I... Curtains? What are you talking about?"
"Well, whether you know it or not, right now you're putting on a show for the whole neighborhood. The way things are lit, you've got a kind of shadow puppet thing going on." Sarah started poking through some boxes. "Do you even have curtains?"
"Probably not. My girlfriend took care of that kind of stuff, uh, back when I had a girlfriend. She was the one with the domesticity gene. I'm more of a patterned sheets in the window kind of guy."
"Well, I think we can do better than that." Sarah pulled out a huge black and orange beach towel emblazoned with a young, svelte Elvis somebody had given me as a gag gift many years ago.
"Yeah, this will do nicely," Sarah said. "Nothing like sleeping peacefully while being watched over by a glowing King. She moved one of my nightstands, climbed on top, pulled a tack hammer and some nails out of her back pocket, and fastened the towel into place.
"You came prepared."
"Told you you were putting on a show. Moe was concerned you were going to undress and start wagging your dick around or something, so I figured I'd better take action before he had a stroke. He comes across as homophobic, but really, he's so deep in the closet that he's finding Christmas presents."
"That was entirely too much information."
"Wasn't it, though? Cool platform bed, by the way."
"Thanks. I picked it up at La Difference a couple of years ago. It's the only decent piece of furniture I own. The rest is thrift shop chic."
Sarah held out her hand and waited until I took it to help her down from the nightstand. I noted the faint aroma of sandalwood. "Yeah, Curly liked it because there are so many places to attach ropes. He's got a mild bondage fetish, loves to be tied down. Funny how so many otherwise macho men like to be the passive ones in bed."
"Again, too much information."
"Then you definitely don't want to know how many piercings he's got where."
"Yeah, I'll pass on that."
"Thought you might. Want a hand getting your bedroom organized?"
"Yeah, that would be great."
With Sarah orchestrating, it took us all of half an hour to get the place into some semblance of order.
"Damn," I said, surveying the results. "I could live here."
Sarah looked around. "It's a little too multi-purpose for my tastes, what with the desk and computer and printer and all, but get rid of that shit, add some mood lighting, a canopy, maybe a bar and small refrigerator, and yeah, you've got yourself a fuck pad."
"Uh-huh," was all I could say.
She threw herself on the mattress exposing a great deal of bare abdomen and what looked to be a diamond navel ring. "Oh, yeah, baby," she said. "That's memory foam. Nice stuff. I take it back; this is a fuck pad. And I would know."
"Uh, I'll take your word for it."
"Oh, you won't have to do that. She shot me a huge grin. "But it's late and I've got a pirate radio station to get on the air so, we'll pick this up tomorrow. Later, dude!"
And with that, Sarah was off, leaving me to wonder what just happened.
Posted by G. W. Ferguson at 10:40 PM No comments: Links to this post
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
Twilight DocumentsObtain the Twilight Documents.
|Twilight Documents
DescriptionWe've tailed one of the Twilight's Hammer operatives here. He goes by the name of Millhouse Manastorm.
We have reason to believe he's carrying important documents.
This is as far as we can safely go, however, without neglecting our duty to defend the Temple of Earth's inner perimeter.
Track down Manastorm and retrieve the documents from him.
These appear to be the right documents.
<You open the documents and look for any noteworthy information.>
RewardsYou will receive: 9
GainsUpon completion of this quest you will gain:
- 25,460 experience
- 500 reputation with The Earthen Ring


text:
Avery is another Precept winery. Precept has a good handful of Washington wineries, including Pavin & Riley, Washington Hills, Bloom, Avery Lane, Barrelstone, Big Sky, Grizz, Sweet Pea, Sol Duc, Sockeye, Pine & Post and Shimmer. These are all budget wines, and, honestly, some aren't really even budget wines; they're just bad. Avery Lane as a label adorns wines sourced from Washington state's Columbia Valley appellation. I've previously tried the 2005 Avery Lane Cabernet Sauvignon, and wasn't impressed.
The 2007 Avery Lane Cabernet Sauvignon is a Washington-style Cabernet Sauvignon. It's fruit forward, right from the moment you open the cork. There's Blackberry on the nose, with hints of cherry. In the glass it's a dark crimson, but a little on the thin side. It's a little thin, even toned-down for a Washington Cabernet Sauvignon, but that it is suitable late afternoon wine for casual sipping with cold summer sausage, crackers and cheese at a local park. This 2007 is better than the 2005, but I suspect that that's at least partly because it's a blend of 75% Cabernet Sauvignon, 19% Syrah, 3% Cabernet Franc, and 3% Lemberger, and 13.5% ABV. Wine Enthusiast's Paul Gregutt earlier this month described it as "Fruity and spicy, with strawberry and cherry candy flavors. Very pleasing picnic wine," and gave it 86 points and a Best Buy rating. In June, Wine Press Northwest labeled the 2007 Avery Lane Cabernet Sauvignon Recommended, called it a Best buy, and noted that "The addition of Syrah, Cabernet Franc and Lemberger help bring out components of purple blackberry, raspberry and pie cherries. It's built and priced for everyday enjoyment."
We picked it up at the BGO for $3.99. At that price, I'd consider buying more, but it doesn't compare to the Au Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, at the same price.
ETA: A second glass, approximately two hours after the bottle was first uncorked, was substantially different. The aroma openened up considerably, with cherry notes, and a hint of chocolate-coffee, a hint that was also evident in a much fuller-bodied taste.


text:
Shontelle Loves Living The Platinum Life- By Bossip Staff Categories: News
Recording artist Shontelle is all about Platinum Life !! Peep her testimonial below:
"I love Platinum Life and I'm so excited to be a part of the Platinum Life movement because I'm an avid gamer and I always wanted to see myself as a character in a game. I never thought I would see my name and face next to the likes of artists who inspired me coming up, like Luda! But what's even cooler is that it's a platform for other artists, producers, DJ's, songwriters, anyone really, to have some insight into what it takes to reach a " Platinum Life" status, giving them a simulation to taste the lifestyle of a successful professional in the Entertainment Industry. It's all about the grind. It's also about social networking. Everyone knows how important "networking" is especially in the Music and Entertainment Industry.
It allows people with the same aspirations and passion for Music to connect, share and even compete online. It's an outlet for users to get some exposure and have their music heard and noticed. Gamers work with us, the artists, on a mission to break into the Music game. You have to make smart decisions in order to make it to the top. The better you can do that, and the faster you can learn, the faster you'll live the Platinum Life! It's about the rise from rags to riches and being able to feel great about your hustle and yourself. I'm so blessed to be a part of something that will motivate, teach and inspire aspiring industry professionals, whatever aspect of Entertainment they're into. I wish I had a game like Platinum Life to play around with before I got signed! I'd be times more savvy! Join me and the other artists and let's make some music! "
Click here to play now on Facebook!


text:
Brand Planning? Yeah, There's an App for That
Just in time for brand planning season, the new Elements of Digital® app provides marketers, creatives, developers, and geeks from all walks of life a valuable tool for navigating the rapidly evolving digital landscape. Developed as an all-in-one pocket reference for Cadient Group's award-winning Table of Digital Elements®, the Elements of Digital app allows brand alchemists to compound the various digital elements available in today's marketing environment and generate novel approaches and powerful new solutions to meet their 2014 goals. Currently available for the iPhone, the Elements of Digital app can be downloaded at appstore.com/elementsofdigital.
Key features include:
- View the 2013 Table of Digital Elements, outlining the 111 elements within each elemental group: Social, Web, Cloud Computing, Search, Security, Desktop, Mobile, Gadget Electronic & Appliance Research (GEAR), Rich User eXperience (RUX), Web CMS, Database & RM, Analytics, and Emerging Technologies
- Sort elements by name, number, state, group
- View details for each element including weight of importance, state of element, year and period of discovery or ascent, elemental group
- Jump to "Learn It" or "Get It" resources on the Web to learn more about or start working with each element
Future releases will integrate social elements and additional edutainment features, as well as Android and iPad optimized editions.
Updated annually, the Table of Digital Elements catalogs the key technologies and methodologies driving digital engagement in areas such as mobile, Web, and social media. By leveraging the Elements of Digital app and the Table of Digital Elements to inform your areas of focus in 2014, your brand will realize sustainable results in action.
Visit elementsofdigital.com for an interactive experience where you can share your ideas on the most influential elements or connect with one of Cadient Group's digital alchemists. Or, visit us at cadient.com to learn more about who we are and what we do in the world of multi-channel engagement.
Apps { IN ACTION
Bryan Hill
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by Peter Gasparini on June 28, 2013 1:09 AM
Hi Bryan- Thanks for sharing such interesting information. I'd appreciate if you could make some time to speak with me; as, i'd like to share some technology with you, which (I believe) you'd find interesting. And, through some purposeful tinkering, perhaps uKnow could assist you and Cadient Team with creating value for your clients.
I will call your office to follow up.
Again, thank you very much for sharing your App, Elements of Digital.
Be well,
Peter Gasparini


text:
The man escaped from the medical responders and ran to his car. Thee firefighters chased the man and tried to grab his keys.
"In the process, the driver took off with two of our guys hanging on the side of the car" and one firefighter inside, trying to stop the vehicle, Christianson said.
The man drove 20 to 30 feet before the firefighters stopped him, the deputy chief said. The firefighters had been treated and released from a hospital Sunday afternoon. The driver also was hospitalized because of his condition, Christianson said.
Written by Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
Courtesy of
Related Links


text:
[VB] How to setup a caption
[C+] Tutorials?
You get my drift ?
Rules of asking for code:
1. Nothing to do with trojans or viruses etc.
2. Don't post multiple posts of the same kind because i've yet to answer.
3. Don't PM me for code as i won't answer, theres a forum you can post it in
4. Don't post off-topic subjects as it will be moved or deleted.
5. Don't ask for Visual Basic it self as it is illegal to redistrubute and please purchase a copy.
Cheers Doggie
Edited by Doggie, 16 September 2003 - 11:00 PM.


text:
1. Variable brake lights that inform following cars as to how light/heavy you are actually pressing your brake pedal.
2. Sensors on the front of the car which monitor how closely you are following the car in front of you. When this information is combined with your current speed and the knowledge of average braking distances and human response time, a buzzer or dashboard light could notify you to increase your following distance.


text:
Special Events
Peak Bloom in the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden
Most of the flowering cherry trees in the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden are in peak bloom! This weekend should be an excellent time to come out and celebrate hanami, the Japanese cultural tradition of enjoying and celebrating the transitory beauty of the cherry blossom season. The blooms only last a few days once they peak,
Photos of Hanami From Japan
Writer, photographer, and friend of BBG Keight Beaven sent us some great hanami photos from Japan. In her note she said: "This year while teaching English in Nagoya-shi, Aichi I was lucky enough to experience the beauty of Japanese flowering cherry trees first hand. Lasting for just two weeks, hanami is one of the most
First Blooms in the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden
Of the 26 flowering cherry trees on display in the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden, 15 began to bloom this week and are holding their blossoms despite the rain. The majority of these trees are Prunus subhirtella 'Pendula', often called weeping cherries. In BBG's collection there are both white and pink varieties. Weeping
Photos from Small Scale
BBG celebrated the opening of its new bonsai exhibition, Graceful Perseverance, with a magical evening called Small Scale on Friday, February 11, in the Palm House. As the evening got under way, guests sipped sake as bonsai curator Julian Velasco spoke about the art of bonsai and the creation of the exhibition. Dinner was
Momo's Japanese Tapas
To celebrate the opening of BBG's bonsai show, Graceful Perseverance, the Garden will host an intimate evening event. Titled Small Scale, the evening will feature a short program of traditional Japanese dance by the Japanese Folk Dance Institute of New York and a talk by curator Julian Velasco on the art of bonsai. Momo
Chile Pepper Fiesta 2010
A fiery success is the only way to describe the 2010 Chile Pepper Fiesta! Over 8,000 revelers experienced the hottest sounds and tastes the world (and Brooklyn) has to offer. Chocolatiers showcased their sweet and spicy sides while local chefs competed for visitor votes in the Chile Chocolate Takedown. Temperatures peaked


text:
Ohio State vs. Penn State
March 6, 2010
|Logan Schuss
|(1, 4)
|Mario Ventiquattro
|(4, 0)
|Jeff Tundo
|(2, 1)
|James Green
|(2, 0)
|Jarred Bowman
|(0, 2)
|Paul Beery
|(1, 0)
|Dominique Alexander
|(0, 1)
|Mike Pires
|(1, 0)
|Brandon Freeman
|12 (0.545)
|Current Record
|Ohio State
|go to Ohio State page
|Matthew Mackrides
|(5, 0)
|Billy Gribbin
|(2, 1)
|Nick Dolik
|(2, 0)
|Danny Henneghan
|(0, 1)
|Colton Vosburgh
|(1, 0)
|Kyle Vanthof
|(0, 1)
|Dave Baker
|8 (0.421)
|Current Record
|Penn State
|go to Penn State page
|The Game Story:
|COLUMBUS, Ohio - The Ohio State men's lacrosse team defeated Penn State in overtime, 11-10, Saturday in a matchup of the only two Big Ten Conference schools to sponsor men's lacrosse. Buckeye freshman Logan Schuss scored the gamewinner in overtime and chipped in a team-high four assists, while senior Mario Ventiquattro had four goals and senior goalie Brandon Freeman made 12 saves as the Buckeyes improved to 3-1 on the year.
"I'm really happy for the effort we gave," Nick Myers, Ohio State head coach, said. "These men have worked really hard this week. This was a game that meant a lot to our program, to our alumni and certainly to this team."
The game saw five ties, but the Buckeyes never trailed after tying the game at 1 early in the first quarter. Ohio State led 3-2 after the opening stanza. The Nittany Lions tied it early in the second (3-3) and Ohio State responded to take a 5-3 lead. PSU cut it to 5-4 but a Buckeye goal with 2:33 left before halftime gave Ohio State a two-goal lead (6-4). The Nittany Lions then scored twice in the final 1:02 to send the teams into halftime deadlocked at 6. Ohio State outscored Penn State, 2-1, in the third quarter for an 8-7 lead through three. In the fourth, the Buckeyes scored the first two goals to open up a 10-7 advantage. Penn State went on a three-goal run to close out regulation and send it to overtime tied at 10-all, with two goals in the final 2:03. The Nittany Lions gained the first offensive possession in overtime but Ohio State forced a turnover and scored on the next possession, earning the unofficial title of "Big Ten Champions."
Penn State opened the scoring just 31 seconds into the game on Nick Dolik's goal at 14:29. The Buckeyes then went on a three-goal run over the next three minutes to pull ahead, 3-1. Ventiquattro scored twice in less than a minute, set up by Jarred Bowman at 11:34 and Schuss at 10:42. James Green tallied at 8:40, scoring high. Matthew Mackrides cut the Buckeye lead to 3-2 with 1:59 left in the quarter.
The teams ended the first half tied at 6 after the Nittany Lions outscored the Buckeyes, 4-3, in the second quarter. Billy Gribbin tied the game at 3-all 54 seconds into the second. Jeff Tundo put the Buckeyes back ahead (4-3) at 12:25 and Ventiquattro scored man-up at 5:52 for a 5-3 Buckeye advantage, with Schuss setting up both tallies. Mackrides scored at 3:31 but Paul Beery found the back of the cage less than a minute later (2:33) to put Ohio State ahead, 6-4. Penn State then scored twice in six seconds to tie the game. Dolik tallied at 1:02 and Mackrides scored on a fast break right after a faceoff win by Danny Henneghan.
Ohio State scored twice in the third quarter for an 8-7 advantage after three. Mike Pires scored at 9:14 of the stanza, assisted by Bowman, to put Ohio State ahead but Colton Vosburgh tallied at 7:36 for a 7-all tie. Tundo scored with 40 seconds left in the quarter to regain the Buckeye lead (8-7). Penn State fired 16 shots toward the net, with Freeman making six saves.
Ohio State scored the first two goals of the fourth quarter. Tundo found Ventiquattro for a man-up score at 14:21 and Schuss set up Green at 8:28, giving the Buckeyes a 10-7 advantage. The Nittany Lions cut it to 10-8 on Gribbin's goal at 7:22. Mackrides tied the game with two goals in the final 2:03, scoring 14 seconds apart at 2:03 and 1:49 to force overtime. Penn State attempted 21 shots in the quarter, putting six on net.
In overtime, the Nittany Lions had the ball first but Buckeye sophomore Joe Bonanni forced a turnover. Ohio State cleared the ball into the offensive zone and Dominique Alexander found Schuss, who scored from the right wing with 2:50 left in the first overtime.
Penn State outshot the Buckeyes in the game, 55-31, including 37-14 in the second half. Freeman took the win, making 12 saves in 61:10. Dave Baker had eight saves in the cage for the Nittany Lions.
Ohio State converted both of its extra-man chances and stopped Penn State on its one 30-second advantage, which came in the first quarter.
Tundo and Green each scored twice, with Tundo adding an assist for three points. Bowman had two assists for a multiple-point game as well.
The Buckeyes return to action Tuesday with a game at Robert Morris. The squad returns to Columbus next Saturday when it will host Albany at noon.
Postgame Notes
Schuss has a team-best eight assists and 15 points this year. He shares the team goal-scoring lead with Tundo and Green with seven each and Ventiquattro is third with six. Tundo is second with 10 points, followed by Ventiquattro with nine.
Schuss has 11 points in his last two games combined (4g, 7a). He has at least one point in each game this year.
Ventiquattro's four goals were a career high after four career hat tricks (last Feb. 21, 2009 vs. Bucknell).
Beery's goal was the first of his career.
Green has two goals in three of four games this year.
Senior Scott Foreman and junior Matt Kawamoto have started the last 37 and 17 games, respectively. Brandon Freeman has started the last 20 games in goal for the Buckeyes.
Freshmen Schuss, Tundo and Alexander have started all three games this season, joined by senior Ventiquattro.
Bowman's marked his first two-point game.
Freeman had his third game with 10 or more saves this season.


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Bracelet kit, Miyuki, violet flower, glass and plated brass, 7 inches, difficulty level 3 out of 5. Sold individually.
|1 - 14
|15 - 49
|50 - 99
All products (except FREE items) apply to your discount level.
More Details.
Item Number: H20-1054KT Have a question about this item?
Jewelry-making kit with complete instructions, materials included and rated according to degree of difficulty. From the makers of Miyuki, one of the world's leading seed bead manufacturers, kit contains full-color, fully illustrated how-to's with easy-to-follow techniques. Basic jewelry-making tools required. Great for quick counter sales, craft parties and jewelry-making classes. Actual beads in kit may not be as pictured.


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SANCA Horizon Alcohol and Drug Centre has a rich history dating back to 1960. It used to be
Alcoholism refers to dependence on alcohol or addiction to alcohol. An alcoholic complies with the following criteria:
Read more about the physical and behavioural symptoms, emotional signs and social changes:
Welcome to SANCA Horizon Alcohol and Drug Centre!
Our treatment services include:
- Meditox (Medical detoxification and Out-patient treatment)
- Methadone Maintenance treatment
- In and Out-patient treatment for Alcohol, Drugs and Medication
- treatment for Teenagers and Adults
- Aftercare services and family counselling
Our prevention services include:
- Life is a Choice Peer Educator Training
- On-site drug testing
- Drug awareness talks and training for companies and schools
- Poppets Puppet Show for toddlers (under review)


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If you're reading this on a smartphone, find somewhere to sit down. Because if you're anything like us, you're going to be mad when you find out which designers (Yes! Designers! Plural!) made custom clothing for Miss Piggy, who is a puppet, for the upcoming move The Muppets.
Collider reports that Miss Piggy will be one well-dressed swine. Not satisfied to have the movie's fully functioning costume design department rig up miniature versions of runway outfits, Miss Piggy's handlers got designer Zac Posen to custom make her a dress for one of the film's scenes. If that wasn't over-the-top enough, Christian Louboutin also made Miss Piggy a custom pair of shoes.
Yes. Shoes. By Christian Louboutin. For a felt puppet that doesn't actually walk. This is so extravagant it hurts.
But that's not all. In another fashion collaboration that pulls at our envious heartstrings. Kermit The Frog is getting decked out in a bespoke Brooks Brothers suit for a scene in which he walks with Miss Piggy through the streets of Paris. Why they couldn't get Dior Homme, we will never know.
But we guess that in some way, this makes sense. After all, what big-budget Hollywood movie doesn't have a hugely impressive wardrobe department? Further, how could anyone — even if they are a puppet — feasibly play a Vogue Paris editor without some seriously dope French shoes?
You can see Piggy's kicks when the movie hits theaters on November 23. Just make sure you don't let her hear you making fun of them.


text: Tanner Goods Quilted Blanket Cygnus $1,200.00 Description The walls of our Portland flagship store proudly display three quilted blankets made by Mary Keasler. Each one loosely depicts a different constellation in richly contrasting two-toned hues: one side white and one side dark navy. We chose them as way of bringing our love of the night sky indoors, so we can be reminded of its power and the constant pull of the outdoors. Even as we work, they remind us both to look up, and to plan to get outside and sleep where we can see the stars. Beyond their emotional connection to the mountain and desert skies, they also invoke warmth and security, since they have an obvious practical use as well. With no true top or bottom, they can be rotated endlessly for new perspective on their version of the stars. Details 58" x 58" Shipping Details This item is available and will ship within 48 hours of date of purchase. Please refer to shipping details on other individual products if you are purchasing multiple items -- lead times may vary for each. Cygnus / N/A / One Size - $1,200.00 Quantity Call one of our flagship stores to check in-store availability. FREE US SHIPPING ON ORDERS OVER $150


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Vivacious Peep-Toes
Style: 31596430
A sleek braid marches down the center of glitter-crusted arcs and glowing swoops of satin, for an end result that is nothing short of sensational. From UK designer Love Art Wear Art. Buckle closure. Satin, glitter, leather upper; leather sole. 3" satin wrapped heel. Handmade in Spain.


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By TERRY WILLISSun Advocate sports reporter
If there is a high school baseball region in the state of Utah that is more mixed up than 3A's Region 8, then it better step forward, because no one has noticed it.
At the first of the season it was Carbon that was on top. Then Juan Diego moved to the forefront only to be replaced by the Emery Spartans when they registered a 10-3 win over the Dinos on Carbons home field on Friday.
For the Carbon team everything went topsy-turvy on Friday. When the Delta Rabbits defeated Juan Diego to knot up the Region 8 lead, it was the opportunity that Carbon needed to regain their role at the top. On Friday afternoon the region had four teams sitting with a 5-2 record. Carbon and Emery were two of those teams and they were set to go head to head. The match-up already had the normal school to school rivalry factor, but add to it a chance to bump the other team off the top of the mountain and it was a volatile mix.
Aaron Sandoval took the mound for the Dinos and pitched a great first inning. Sandoval led off the offensive game for the Dinos as well and got on base with a walk. Carbon capitalized on the free pass and scored two runs before the end of the first inning.
It looked once again like Dino time.
But in the top of the second the Spartans got there bats rolling and began to hit hard on Sandoval. Chase Julian came on in relief, but could not shut the Spartans down before six runs had crossed the plate in the inning.
Tempers flared as a couple of players exchanged words. Coach Lane Herrick gathered his players and got their heads back into the game.
The Dinos were able to put a run on the board in the third to cut the lead in half.
From there it was a stalemate for awhile as neither team scored in the fourth.
Emery again found their stroke as they added three more runs in the fifth.
Carbon had no response to that barrage and the game ended with the Dinos falling to fourth place on an evening when they could have held first.
Errors are what cost Carbon the game as they committed officially committed four mistakes. Only lowly Granite (1-6) and North Sanpete (0-8) are out of contention. But Carbon needs to win their final league contests to be in good shape for the state tournament. This afternoon (Tuesday) they meet North Sanpete and then on Thursday afternoon they have a rematch at home against Juan Diego, the team that took them out of first place contention in the first place.
Right now if Carbon were to go into state play, they would have to play Wasatch from Region 10 who has a 6-2 record. Worst of all it would be played on the Wasps field.


text:
(based on 4 reviews)
Ratings Distribution
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awesome product super fit
By diesel
from ladner bc
About Me Intermediate
Comments about CWB Torq Wakeboard Boots 2010:
Best part is talking to your sales staff on the phone and getting great infomation.Also it seems very casual,no pressure sales to buy something.
Bottom Line Yes, I would recommend this to a friend
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Overall Good Bindings
By RideHarder
from Utah
About Me Advanced
Good binding for the price. Your feet sit very high in the binding, so while the picture leads you to believe that the bindings lace up your ankles sufficiently. Be aware of what type of stiffness you want out of a binding before buying. This may save you some disapointment after your purchase.
Most comfortable Wakeboard bindings ever
By Wakeboard guy
from Vancouver , BC , Canada
Very comfortable Very Durable. Wont Break. Easyto use "Hinge Technology". Good rear entry bindings.Only Difficulty is positioning and unscrewing the bindings.
Doesnt get any better than this.for now
By Joel the athlete
from Northampton, MA
this is a wonderful product. i absolutely love these bindings. i did alot of research on them and these are by far the best bindings i have ever owned in my 8 years of riding. i would never change my decision for a different pair of bindings


text:
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eMedia Guitar Accessory Kit Guitar Instruction Software & Accessories BundleItem #: ED.EG07097
List Price: $24.95
Unrated ( Be the first to review this item )
by eMedia
Guitar Instruction Software & Accessories Bundle. Ages: 6 Years & Up. Made by eMedia. (ED.EG07097)
Free Shipping on this item in orders above $199
Temporarily Out of Stock -- Notify Me when Back in Stock
Found in: Acoustic Guitar Kits
The eMedia Guitar Accessory Kit is a great addition for acoustic or electric guitar players of all levels, from novice to expert. eMedia has packaged together everything a guitar player needs with their guitar, including eMedia Starter Guitar Lessons CD-ROM software, eMedia Starter Guitar Lessons DVD, a guitar strap, picks, a set of strings, a string winder, polish and a cloth. The software bundled with the eMedia Guitar Accessory Kit contains eMedia's Automatic Tuner, Metronome, Digital Recorder and Chord Dictionary, making the features of this package hard to beat!
System Requirements
Windows XP/Vista/Windows 7
Mac OS X 10.3 or later


text:
On Tuesday evening the Big Red Machine continued to roll at the plate, as the Borger Bulldogs had three players, Max Lusk, Garrett Irwin and Kody Davila, send balls over the fence in their District 1-3A contest with the Dalhart Golden Wolves.
The Bulldogs jumped out on top early building a 5-0 lead after two innings. But the team experienced a little bit of a scare as Dalhart battled back to eventually take a 8-9 lead by the sixth inning.
Tuesday afternoon, West Texas High sophomore Nathan Forrest earned a trip to the 1A state golf tournament by finishing fourth individually in the boys standings at the 1A Region I Golf Tournament in Lubbock.
The Borger Lady Bulldogs' golf season came to an end on Tuesday in the 3A Region I Tournament, finishing in 10th place.
Region I-1A Boys Tournament
at LakeRidge Country Club, Lubbock
On Monday, former Phillips High School athlete and Borger Lady Bulldog Head Basketball Coach Jill Schneider was selected as the head coach for the 2011 Team USA Women's Under-16 National Team.
"It's an incredible honor to have been selected to coach this team," Schneider said in a statement released by USA Basketball.
The West Texas Special Olympic Team competed in the Dumas Special Olympic Track Meet this past Saturday. Where all of the Comanche athletes had a great time.
The team will next take part in the West Texas Special Olympics that will take place in Stinnett on Saturday, April 30th.
The Opening Ceremonies will being at 9:00 a.m. and the public is invited to come out and watch all the Panhandle area teams compete.
Region I-3A Girls Tournament
First round, Meadowbrook Golf Course, Lubbock
Team Totals (Top three and area teams): 1. Andrews 328; 2. Snyder 330; 3. Burkburnett 332; 8. Pampa 389; 9. Borger 399.
Top three medalists: 1. Sarah Moore, Burkburnett, 76; 2. (tie) Brenna Moore, Burkburnett and Tatum Windham, Pecos, 77.
Borger (399): Clarice Myers 93, Hali Southall 97, Desiree Robles 99, Morgan Brown 110, Haley Montoya 115.
Region I-1A Boys Tournament
at LakeRidge CC in Lubbock
Monday's First-Round Results
In an era where television shows, movies and music from the 1970's and 1980's is revamped for a new generation, perhaps it would be fitting to call this year's version of the Borger Bulldogs the "Big Red Machine" for the way the team continues to hit the ball in District 1-3A play.
For the fourth game in a row, the Bulldogs put on another hitting clinic on Saturday afternoon that included two three-run homers and a two-run homer on their way to getting a 13-3 win over the Pampa Harvesters in five innings.
The third time almost proved to be the charm as the Borger Lady Bulldogs rallied from a 8-1 deficit to take a 9-8 lead over the Pampa Harvesters in the fifth inning of their third meeting of the season.
Unfortunately, Pampa would rally to take the game 15-12 to send Borger to 3-4 in District 1-3A play.
With Dalhart's loss to Perryton on Saturday, the Lady Bulldogs still sit in second place with a one game lead over Dalhart and Perryton in the district race, with two games to go in the regular season.
Over the weekend the Frank Phillips College Plainsmen kept their hopes of claiming one of the WJCAC playoff spots alive by splitting their four-game series with Midland College.
After dropping both games on Saturday 9-2 and 6-5 in 10 innings, the Plainsmen rebounded to win both games on Sunday, 8-7 and 14-12.
The Plainsmen will next travel to Snyder this weekend for a big series with Western Texas College.
On Saturday afternoon the FPC Lady Plainsmen cracked the WJCAC win column in getting the series split with Western Texas College by winning game one 2-1 and dropping the second game 1-2 in nine innings.
On Sunday the Lady Plainsmen dropped both games to Howard College 5-3 and 8-0.
The Lady Plainsmen go to 7-27 for the season and 1-15 in WJCAC play.
High winds on Friday caused the Frank Phillips College baseball and softball doubleheaders to be rescheduled for Sunday, April 17th.
The FPC Plainsmen baseball team will take on Midland College on Sunday starting at 11:00 a.m. while the FPC Lady Plainsmen softball team will begin their doubleheader with Howard College at 1:00 p.m.


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BY THE NUMBERS: Johan Franzen
Friday, 06.8.2012 / 12:00 AM ET / News
By Zack Crawford - DetroitRedWings.com Intern
By The Numbers will highlight the Red Wings on-ice accomplishments in the 2011-12 season. Each week during the off-season, By The Numbers will profile a different player on the team, focusing on their statistical highs. This week we focus on forward Johan Franzen.


text:
emacs - Summary
This project is part of the GNU Project.
Emacs is the extensible, customizable, self-documenting real-time display editor.
For information about Emacs, visit our webpage. The development sources are hosted on Savannah, via Git for the main source and for GNU ELPA.
You can access the main repository with
Where "emacs-24" is the recommended branch if you want to help us test&debug the code before the next release. "master" is if you're actively working on Emacs's own code.
You can access the ELPA repository with (see the README file in there for how to get the "external" packages).
For developer access, read these instructions.
Registration Date: Thu 08 Feb 2001 03:03:48 PM UTC
License: GNU General Public License v3 or later
Development Status: 6 - Mature
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text:
Website: ICON Art & Design
Bio: Laurie E. Smith is a colorist from Winnipeg, Manitoba, with many prestigious projects under her belt. Her portfolio includes 22 issues of Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight, 4 issues of Black Orchid, and 15 issues of The X-Files from Topps, for which she received an Eisner Award nomination in 1996.
This page last updated on 4/10/08.If you're Laurie E. Smith and you want to submit a revision to this profile, click here to log in. Once you're logged in, you can submit revisions to your profile and add and change images.
News | Features | Profiles | Gallery | Grant | Forum | Links | Shop | Advertise | Donate | About | Contact | Volunteer Login


text:
Vernier Watches
Women's Black Silicone Watch
$26 Gilt
- Color:
- black
Qty: 1
- 1
- 2
- 3
Please select an available size.
Please select a size.
Description: Round black enamel, silver-tone base metal, and stainless steel case with black dial and crystal markers
- Black silicone strap
- Japanese quartz movement
- Buckle closure
- 5 year limited warranty
Measurements: Case measures 41mm wide, strap measures 20mm wide
Material: Enamel, base metal, stainless steel, crystal, and silicone
Brand: Vernier Watches
Origin: Imported


text:
When Can You (Really) Expect to Retire?
When will you be able to retire? That all depends on three factors: how well you've been saving, the lifestyle you want upon retiring, and the age you want to stop working. The experts over at CNNMoney recently tried to provide some answers to this big, important question.


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Nature's way: Rookery Bay Nature Festival spreads throughout Southwest Florida
Rookery Bay is a big place. Actually, the Rookery Bay National Estuarine Research Reserve stretches far beyond its namesake body of water, surrounding Marco Island and extending north to Gordon Pass in Naples and south far into the Ten Thousand Islands, and covering 110,000 acres of mostly pristine mangroves, estuaries and uplands.
But the region's natural ecosystems go beyond the Rookery Bay NERR, and interconnect to form a dynamic, organic whole. So when Rookery Bay held their 10th annual Nature Festival last weekend, they went outside their own boundaries and gave local residents, snowbirds and tourists the opportunity to explore the myriad habitats and ecosystems surrounding us.
With 40 different field trip options, participants could canoe the Turner River by moonlight, ride bicycles through the Big Cypress National Preserve, or birdwatch at Tigertail Beach on Marco Island. The Rookery Bay Environmental Learning Center, or ELC, did host a series of lectures on Saturday, getting serious and academic on topics from the least tern to native landscaping, but most who took part in the festival, including some chilled individuals on the coldest evenings and mornings of the new year, did so out in the wild.
Whichever trip they took, participants were able to depend on knowledgeable guides for their activity, thanks largely to the cadre of dedicated volunteers who lead trips and perform a variety of services for the Rookery Bay reserve and other nature-based government agencies and nonprofit organizations. Along with Rookery Bay, our area has significant facilities of some dedicated, heavy-hitting wildlife groups, including Florida state parks and preserves, the Audubon Society's Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, the Conservancy of Southwest Florida and the National Park Service's Everglades National Park.
For the Nature Festival, Rookery Bay partnered with many of those to allow festival-goers to experience new aspects of the world around us in Southwest Florida. Some of the trips, like an exploration of the backcountry of Corkscrew or paddling in the Ten Thousand Islands, took participants far afield. But others made the point that the natural world is where we live, that we enter a native Florida ecosystem every time we step outside our door.
The streets, parking lots and highrises of Southwest Florida all stand on land that, 100 years ago, was part of the natural domain, which helps explain why pelicans get tangled up in fishing lines, herons hunt next to bank branches and black bears show up for a snack at residents' garbage bins. One scheduled field trip was designed to highlight the birdwatching opportunities at Eagle Lakes Park, a Collier County facility surrounded by homes and golf course developments.
Volunteer Rookery Bay guide Steve Mutart, a Philadelphia native, retired attorney and lifelong birder, brought his avian knowledge and his spotting scope to share with his group Sunday morning. In this case, the birds showed up but the group, teenagers from West Palm Beach, did not, so he bestowed his expertise on the only bipedal, non-feathered creature who did, a reporter.
In a few short minutes, Mutart identified and pointed out birds including the belted kingfisher, red-shouldered hawk, redwinged blackbird, two species of crow, a flock of white ibis and ospreys sitting their nest.
"Birds are not just out in the wilderness," said Mutart. He loves birds, because they are "comical and majestic, beautiful and their songs lift your heart." Watching them, he said, gives him a sense of freedom.
Another group, a shelling expedition on Marco Island's South Beach, took place Sunday morning in the shadow of highrise condominiums housing hundreds of humans. Guides Paulette Carabelli and Marge Tunnell helped a group of nearly 20 see what they might have been missing when walking the beach. The two also belong to the Marco Island Shell Club, preparing for its annual show in March.
Instead of looking up to see birds, Carabelli and Tunnell kept their eyes on the sand underfoot, and brought up specimen after specimen for the group to inspect. One actually was a bird, an anhinga that lay dead on the beach for unknown reasons. But mostly, they displayed shells, the large pen shells that other animals including crab and octopi hide inside, or lay their eggs in, the Florida fighting conch with the animal that came out of its shell ready for a rumble, thorny and brittle sea stars (two different species), and heart cockles that sailors would make into keepsakes for their ladyloves.
Tunnell held up a live stone crab and a dead blue crab side by side for inspection. New Zealand native and former Mote Marine Lab staffer Fay Brett proved adept at spotting unusual finds, and brought several to the leaders' attention.
Carabelli told the shellers, each carrying a bag for their treasures, there are two key things to remember about shells. One, it's pronounced "conk," not "conch," and two, most importantly — never take live shells, but return them to their natural habitat, the Gulf.
To discover more about our "big backyard" throughout the year, visit Rookery Bay's Environmental Learning Center, located at 300 Tower Road, just off Collier Boulevard shortly before U.S. 41. For more information, call 239-530-5940 or go online to www.rookerybay.org.


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In developing a Safeguarding Children Policy, a church will need to adopt both a policy statement and an agreed set of procedures by which that policy will be implemented. The Safeguarding Children Policy should be a whole church concern. It should therefore be adopted by the Church Meeting and also reviewed annually by the Church Meeting.
A policy statement makes it clear to staff, volunteers, parents and children what the church thinks about safeguarding, and what it will do to keep children safe. The following guidance on what should be contained in a policy statement is based upon advice given by the NSPCC.
A policy statement sets out:
what the church wishes to say about keeping children safe
why the church is taking these steps
how, in broad terms, the church is going to meet this responsibility
who it applies and relates to,(eg all staff and volunteers, children and young people up to 18 years of age)
how the church will put the policy into action and how it links to other relevant policies and procedures, (eg taking photographs and videos, recruitment, health and safety)
It should be no longer than one or two sides of A4 paper. The Policy statement should also:
identify the church, its purpose and function
recognise the needs of children from minority ethnic groups and disabled children and the barriers they may face, especially around communicatio
briefly state the main law and guidance that supports the policy
be signed and dated with a date identified for review
Download a model policy statement which complies with these guidelines. Churches are free to adopt this statement as it stands, although in doing so churches should carefully consider each of the statements and should also be aware that accompanying procedures will need to be developed that are relevant to the church's own particular situation and context.


text:
My name is Jeroen and I'm a 27 year old designer and developer from Lloret de Mar, Spain. You're visiting my personal portfolio, where you can see some of my recent work and collaborations.
I like to create clean, visually engaging and useful websites and learn new ways of create amazing stuff. I'm available for freelance working or a full-time position.
In my free time I like to make music, climb things or practice kung fu.
Some stuff I write on the net.
You can write me at email@example.com or you can use any other social thingie I'm in.


text: Braga Bridge Could Get Colorful Light Display By Taylor Cormier February 3, 2014 The Braga Bridge could soon undergo another facelift of sorts. Fall River State Representative Carole Fiola says she'd like to see the bridge adorned with colorful LED lights, much like Boston's Zakim Bridge... Read More|Comment Category: Southcoast News Tags: braga bridge, fall river, fiola, lights, somerset, taunton river, transportation Send to a friend! Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Pin it! Reddit This! Share on Tumblr!


text:
Barcelona agree deal for Sao Paulo defender
Spanish football giant Barcelona have agreed to sign defender Douglas from Sao Paulo for six million euros, the Brazilian club said.
But the 24-year-old will not join the Catalan outfit until next June after Barcelona agreed to allow the defender to remain in Brazil, reports Xinhua.
"The deal has already been accepted but the paperwork still has to be signed," Sao Paolo president Carlos Miguel Aidar told Brazilian news portal Uol here Wednesday.
Sao Paulo owns 60 percent of Douglas' economic rights with the balance held by sports marketing firm Traffic.
The former Brazil under-20 player has made 131 first-team appearances for Sao Paulo since joining from Goias in 2012.
(Posted on 21-08-2014)
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text:
Simone Young, conducts Bruckner's Symphony Zeroth of 1869. The composer himself was later critical of the work and almost dismissive, which was probably due to harsh negative reviews and it was not performedagain in his lifetime. The 0th Symphony is often attested to an unfinished appearance, often unfairly, because one can not underestimate the importance of this work for the further development of his symphonic works.
"...Oehm's sound is absolutely stunning. Seldom does a recording give me the impression I am within a great concert hall, but in this case I could easily imagine myself sitting in the Bayreuth Festspielhaus. The bass resonance is almost identical to the Bayreuth experience - something you feel as well as hear. This is a live recording, but audience interferance is non-existent. As far as 'Want Lists'go, this recording makes me want to rush out and get all of Young's previous Bruckner releases."
Robert Markow - Fanfare - November/December 2013
"Finally we have the ideal recording of this symphony! ...Every movement is slower than every other recording. Everything is given full weight. The orchestra and sound are simply glorious... There are dozens of instances where this conductor "gets it" in a way that no one else does - where this orchestra "speaks" in a way than no other does. I haven't heard a recording in years that replaces anytop choice in the Bruckner Overview. Well, it has finally happened."
Donald R Vroon - American Record Guide - November/December 2013
Performance **** Recording *****
"...The sound of the orchestra is smooth and well balanced in the live recording: brass chorales are sonorous and wind solos eloquently projected. The movement shoe the strengths of the Hamburg strings, with depth of tone and smooth phrasing, and a welcome avoidance of cloying vibrato..."
Martin Cotton - BBC Music magazine - Christmas 2013
"... This is the sixth instalment in Simone Young's Bruckner odyssey for Oehms Classics and she presides over a conscientious, deeply considered reading, beautifully played by her Hamberg orchestra ..."
Andrew Achenbach - Gramophone magazine - Awards Issue 2013
"... this is a persuasive reading of a work that fully deserves to come in from the cold. The sound has the spaciousness and dynamic range familiar from earlier in this series ... The present release maintains the high standards fo this series so far."
Richard Whitehouse - International Record Review - September 2013


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How Not To Reduce Your Carbon Footprint
UK Study Thumps Rooftop Wind Turbines
The Carbon Trust says that people who are attempting use wind energy to supply their needs are actually contributing to carbon emissions in the universe.
I am not surprised this critique of rooftop wind turbines is not front page news.
This is the kind of fact the Al Gore's of the world ignore.