text:
you can afford courage
John had thought he was too old and too . . . obviously damaged to be waking up in someone else's bed. But the other side of the bed was cold, the pillow undented, and the blankets undisturbed, so he hadn't had company. If he'd had a nightmare, he'd moved through it rather quickly, pushing forward with enough momentum that he hadn't woken up.
He squinted and looked around the room, eyes still bleary, wondering what had woken him. Ah, bladder. He put his hand up to touch the deep-blue walls as he walked, guessing that the bathroom would be to his right. He peeked down the hallway and saw the front door of the flat, shoes scattered in untidy piles nearby and a merry-eyed Ganesha hanging in the entryway; a look in the other direction revealed not only the loo but also the green bedroom he'd entered last night. Right, this was Lestrade's place, his and his wife's.
His trousers were still hanging in the bathroom, damp in patches where he'd tried to scrub Greg's blood out of the material. There was a faint beep coming from one of the pockets, which still housed his mobile. He wrestled it out and peered at the display. Texts from Sherlock, of course, beginning with demands for his time and attention and ending with a command to filch whatever case files Lestrade might have lying about in unguarded desk drawers. John resolutely thumbed the mobile off, brushed his teeth, and gave his face a good scrubbing.
He followed the sound of murmuring voices and the aroma of chai to find the kitchen, where Greg and Vee were cuddling, she sitting on the counter island and he wedged between her legs, his head on her breast. One of her hands was stroking down his spine firmly over and over, and Greg looked ready to melt at the treatment. John smiled at the sight and waved to keep her where she was; he could certainly fetch tea himself. One quick but rousing game of charades with her later, he had a mug in his hand and an invitation to all the chai he could drink. It was only at his involuntary sigh of appreciation for the flavours of her homemade blend that Greg's eyes opened.
"Ready for a check-up?" John asked, his voice reduced to a husky murmur because of the hot swallow of tea he'd just drunk. Greg cocked an eyebrow at him and John darted a glance upward to see Vee grinning benevolently at him. "Sorry, that was not meant to sound like the opening line of a porno. Just – I really should take a look at your arm, make sure nothing's going amiss." He set his mug down and approached them, since Greg looked unwilling to unwind himself from his wife for the foreseeable future.
John peeled the gauze away, nodding at the butterfly bandages beneath and the still-pungent olfactory sting of the antiseptic. "This looks good, and I'm sure you know to wrap it in plastic if you want to shower. Should be pretty easy, actually, given the location of the injury."
He'd just rewrapped the wound when he felt a hand sliding through his hair and cupping his head affectionately. It made his knees shake – he hadn't been touched with any kind of tenderness in far too long; he and Harry had never got on well enough for those kinds of touches, and Clara had, in those last weeks since he'd been back, carefully removed herself from their orbits to keep things on an even, if unhappy, keel. Before he could disgrace himself by closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, it was gone, a quick pinch to his cheek serving as a coda. "This one's got a sister-in-law," Vee announced, looking down at him like some beautiful, benevolent deity from on high who could get away with wearing a shocking-pink batik nightie.
John tilted his chin slightly down, just enough that she'd have trouble scanning his face but Greg could still read his expression. "What, another deductive genius? Couldn't get enough at work?"
Greg sniggered and John guessed it was the vibrations from him passing to her that made Vee laugh as well. "Go on, impress John," Greg invited.
"He's your friend –" at that, John snuck a look at Greg, who was glancing sidelong at him, equally uncertain and shyly pleased; clearly they were both idiots destined to be friends "– but he doesn't treat me like an extension of you, or interact with me only through you. He's a man who's comfortable with women."
"That could just be that I've got a sister," John pointed out.
Vee shook her head. "So does this one. Two, in fact, both older than him and still thinking of him as the baby they used to mind. And anything more awkward than Greg around strange women has yet to be invented."
"Ah, love, you're plenty strange," Greg said, earning himself a nip on his ear that he looked tremendously pleased by.
"Still," John pressed. "How did you know that I've got a sister-in-law? Clara, married to my sister Harry."
Vee had gone suddenly taciturn, but Greg stepped into the breach. "Because you've got no problem looking like an idiot in front of a woman you'd have tried to pull if she weren't someone else's wife."
John, feeling his cheeks and ears burning, was glad to have an excuse to look down at himself and the rolled-up pyjama bottoms and shapeless socks that could hardly be showing him to his best advantage. Bloody hell, was he really that crass, that he'd apparently been making eyes at Lestrade's wife? That was what three continents of glory got him – an instinct that was going to get him heaved out of the first place he'd felt welcomed since he'd been back in England and onto his lily-white arse.
Vee grinned at him, her killer instinct very much on display, and oh, he could see exactly why Greg had married this one. "You can make it up to me," she said, all shark-like smile and mischievous eyes, and he agreed without knowing what in the world he'd signed up for.
"What is it exactly that you do?" John asked; normally, he'd trust his instincts that Vee was not going to do anything drastic or even unpleasant to him, but the look of schadenfreude on Greg's face was curiously compelling.
"I'm an artist," Vee said absently, looking between him and the light pouring through the windows, eyes sharp like they could burrow beneath his clothes. Greg was smirking as he buttered his toast.
"Look, if you want me to pose for a life study," he said, responding to the surprise on Greg's face with a touch of smugness, "I can do that for you, no problem." The vast majority of people he'd known had seen him naked at one point or another, thanks to larks at Barts and his quest for life-affirming sex while in uniform, and more than a few had documented the sight with photographs and sketches. And Natalia had even brought body paint to his room one night, and the impressions they'd made on his crisp white sheets had made John a legend among men. "But I can't do life-masks or anything like that." The feeling of wet plaster on his skin, pulling at his fine hairs, hardening gradually until he felt like he'd shrunk to fit it, was not just unpleasant but somehow triggering for him, though there was no direct link between what he'd seen and done and the texture of anything even vaguely like mud. Triggers were illogical, brains being the tetchy things they were; it was exhausting trying to keep track of what would set him off.
She looked directly at him, her eyes darker and even more direct than Lestrade's official, penetrating stare, and John saw her gaze drop down, not to his shoulder or his damned leg, but for some reason to his belly. She nodded as if there had never been any doubt about whether she would understand what he was trying to tell her. "I just want to make a few sketches," she said. "Though it will be a tremendous sacrifice not to see you naked – especially since the line of your shoulders is quite different from my regular model's – you can keep your clothes on."
John relaxed all the way at her light tone. "Bit chilly in here to make a good first impression," he agreed affably.
"Far too late for that," Vee said sweetly, already making thick charcoal lines on the heavy cream of her sketchpad.
"She's saying you'd never measure up," Greg interjected helpfully, finally bestirring himself to refill all three of their mugs. His arm seemed able to handle the weight of the pot without any issues, John noted, observing closely; that was a very good sign, though he might have been overcompensating for his bicep with his hand.
John opened his mouth to defend himself and cast aspersions on what the DI was working with, only to be beat to the punch by the DI's wife. "If you make him laugh and ruin the lines of this pose, then both of you will be stripped naked and posed for a study in Greek wrestling forms," she promised, her hands not stopping as they flowed over the page.
"Finally I'm being paired with someone other than Sherlock," was all John said after a pause, voice dry as he could make it, and Vee looked up from her sketchpad to eye him speculatively, far less serious than her husband, who looked like he was dying to ask if all the rumours were false. John gave him the two-fingered salute and picked up the original thread of the conversation. "And if you're the one who makes me laugh?" John asked Vee, brushing a finger over the tip of his nose to indicate to her where charcoal dust had already settled on her face, freckling her brown skin.
"Oh, that's fine. Artist's privilege." The words were self-aggrandising, but there was a heavy dash of irony in her tone. John figured she was up for a challenge, so he let himself laugh.
Sherlock eradicated contexts, that was what he did, John realised when he walked back into the flat. They hadn't been fighting when they'd parted – when Sherlock had stalked off without a word of explanation and left him at Greg and Vee's flat – but somehow, Sherlock still managed to make his silence pointed.
John nearly offered to make tea, even though his own insides were sloshing with the stuff, but then he saw that Sherlock had set out a mug with a teabag on the counter just next to the kettle. Apparently that last step of turning the kettle on and pouring hot water over the teabag had been too much for him, after the excitement of having his deductions proved correct by getting Greg carved up.
Sherlock, prone on the sofa, seemed to be waiting for something, and when John didn't speak, he let out a sigh. Nothing fond or indulgent about that sound – it was sheer aggravation that motivated it, and John didn't particularly want to hear more.
"I'm off for a shower then," he said, already tugging at his jumper. Waking up in a strange bed usually meant round two in the shower with a lovely lady, but even now with no soapy vixen around, he found he was craving the feel of hot water on his skin.
"Lestrade couldn't give her children, but she'll never leave him for you, even temporarily," Sherlock said, not bothering to make eye contact. At least he didn't have his hands up in that affected prayer position.
He wondered if he should just ignore Sherlock's mean shots in the dark, if discretion were the better part of valour, but he'd already turned to go back down the stairs. "I have no intention of sleeping with Greg or his wife, Sherlock, and it would be nice to know where exactly you get off assuming that I'm incapable of being someone's friend." There was an ache along his jaw, strain from keeping himself in check.
"You make friends very quickly," Sherlock said, casually barbed, as if he'd never witnessed anything half as disgraceful. John wondered if Sherlock knew just how much he sounded like his brother sometimes.
No reassurance of continuing friendship was going to be enough for Sherlock, evidently, and John frankly wasn't sure he could shape the words and give them voice with any decent measure of honesty. He trudged upstairs, intent on having that shower, ten minutes of peace; Sherlock had yet to intrude on him in the bathroom, though surely that was coming one of these days.
He scrubbed stray molecules of charcoal dust from his skin and the sweat from his hair, and then stood under the spray with his eyes closed and mouth open, just letting the water beat down on him with a therapeutic tenacity. The rough cotton of his towel felt nearly as good when he dried himself off.
Right, so it wasn't the bathroom but rather his own bedroom that Sherlock was set on invading. Sherlock was sprawled across the bed, diminishing its size with his sheer presence; his eyes were closed but the hand he thought he'd blocked from John's view with his body was white-knuckled as it clenched at the duvet. "Neither of them wanted children – obvious from how Lestrade spoke of Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, no personal history there – and neither of them has ever been unfaithful to the other."
"That's your version of an apology, is it?" John asked, dressing while the tosser still had his eyes closed. "There's no reason for her to want me, so there won't be any adultery today, thanks?" A roll of thunder reverberated outside, surprising him with both its intensity and its timeliness. "You didn't think that I might have a code for myself, and that I'd never hurt a friend like that? Cheers."
Sherlock's face was illuminated by another streak of lightning as he attempted to defend himself. "You're a man who clearly prides himself on sexual conquest, and Lestrade's wife is both attractive and unrelated to you by blood or marriage."
It wasn't about conquest, or at least it hadn't been, not for a long time. It was about reciprocity, the chance that some kind of connection would be made, and the rest of the world would either melt away or grow sharper around the two of them; either way was lovely, and he hadn't had it in so long. John looked down at his bed, at the sharp-tongued man lying across it, and felt the fight drain out of his body. Sherlock still didn't call Greg by his first name, and he'd suggested stealing Met files; friendship was not familiar territory for him. "There's always something," John reminded him. "This is where you're wrong."
A walk in the rain wasn't going to do him much good if his leg seized up, but procuring food – and putting some distance between himself and Sherlock – took precedence. Thai sounded good, and his phone beeped as he clicked open his umbrella. Red curry and glass noodles. York Street, past Wyndham Place. Mention my name. SH
John had barely got Sherlock's name out before the girl behind the counter – not quite pretty, definitely appealing with those kind eyes, John thought automatically, then wondered if his unthinking assessments of women going about their lives, getting on with their jobs, were just biological instinct or signs of something more troubling – heaved a large takeaway bag in his direction. "For Sherlock Holmes," she said distinctly, "and friend."
She smiled at him as he paused in the doorway, trying to open his umbrella without dropping the food. He smiled back and stepped out onto the pavement, the patter of rain on his umbrella a cheerful beat just above his head.
a life of joy with you
"Didn't you hear the doc? I got the all-clear on this arm," Greg said, flexing for her like she was still a starry-eyed teenager. "I'm fit for active duty."
"Prove it," she said against his mouth; he caught himself before he agreed.
"No chores," he bargained. "Not today."
"Not up for a challenge?" she asked, then handed him the hairbrush and started unpinning her mess of hair.
"You are so spoilt," he grumbled, but the smile on his face was real, and he sat behind her on the floor.
"Yes, please," she said, unrepentant, and he put down the brush to work through the tangles with strong fingers that never forgot to be gentle. Being petted like this always made her a little spacey, a little sleepy, and the rhythms of his hands working in her hair betrayed his mind's tendency to wander off while he was occupied with manual labour. "You do like him, don't you?" she asked quietly.
"Yes." She'd been expecting some kind of justification, a reminder of what Sherlock Holmes was like, an allusion to the character of a man who'd served his country as a soldier and as a doctor, but that was all he said.
"Mmm," she said as he picked up the brush and started sweeping through her hair with extravagant strokes, flourishes that began with bristles tingling pleasantly on her scalp and ending with the tips of her hair stretched as far as they could go. "My good man."
He tossed the brush aside once more and swung around so that he was in her lap and facing her. His fingers were buried in her hair again as he kissed her, fierce and plaintive, and she splayed her hands on his arse and pulled him in tighter. "Only you," he gasped against her mouth, and she swore the same with the bites she left on his cheek and jaw. They rocked together, unable to decide which way they wanted to go, and she found herself giggling, tickled deliciously by the vibrations of his laughter, and getting wetter by the millisecond. "This way," he said when he'd got himself under control, pushing her down and divesting her of her clothing with authoritative ease. Her hair was a warm prickliness beneath her, setting her nerves alight.
God, he looked marvellous like this, naked and unashamed, fit and known, all hers, and she parted her legs invitingly so he could kneel between them. The tip of his cock dragged wetly up her thigh as he stretched to lie on top of her, blanketing her for one endless moment before he rose up on his hands and dropped his hips, pushing inside her, sweetly relentless.
There was always a dazed disbelief in her head when they were in this particular position; she marvelled over how completely full she felt, squirming with the pleasure of it. "Here, now," he said, his nose tracing delicate lines on her cheeks and chin, while he held himself still to give her a moment's respite.
"More," she said, coming back to herself, revelling in the sensation of those strong hands curled possessively around her hips, tilting her up to lay claim to her thoroughly.
"Spoilt, like I said," he gasped as she clenched around him. He bit at her nipple, the one that pointed to the side like a lazy eye; he had a preference for that one.
He buried his face between her breasts, his temple and her heart pressed close together, their pulses urging each other on to greater speeds. Her hands slid down his back, over all that warm skin of a grain far more beautiful than marble, sweat springing up in the wake of her touch. "Please," she whispered, and like that was the cue he'd been waiting for, he set up a rhythm that drove all thoughts out of her head except MINE.
She was off like a shot, and the feel of her coming around him made his eyes roll up in his head. There was no way they were going to hit their all-time record, but she thought she had at least one more orgasm in her; blunt nails against his skin and scalp kept him grounded and moving frantically inside her. "With me," he growled out and she tipped her head back, vaguely seeing the wall behind her upside down, and obliged him.
He kissed his way down her body, taking the scenic route it seemed, as he pulled out. There was a crack of lightning and a rumble of thunder as rain suddenly came crashing down. The plants on the windowsills would appreciate that. Greg was sitting up, mostly, one hand playing with her off-kilter nipple, and she stretched and rolled up next to him, one arm across his lap.
"My hair's all tangled again," she said.
Her first feeling, when John sat down opposite her at their usual table and smiled, was regret, and it took her aback enough to stay silent while he stole a few of her chips, heedless of the fact that his own pile would be coming in a moment.
It was the knowledge that he and Sally weren't going to be together, she realised, because Sally was still entangled with that man no better than he should be, the one with a wife at home, and John had found someone else to keep company with, a woman called Sarah, whose voice she'd heard when John called to confirm their lunch date.
She hoped this Sarah was good enough for him. There was something tentative about John's response when she asked after her; all he said was, "Sarah's very kind and very beautiful." Which told her next to nothing about whether he was happy when he was with her, but Vee let it go, fingers brushing his when they both dipped their chips in the sour cream and then dragged them through the well of sweet chilli sauce on the side.
"You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?" John asked. "That's why Les– Greg wasn't the DI in charge of the case Sherlock just finished, isn't it?"
"Mmm," she agreed, swallowing a delicious mouthful. "He's had this leave on the books for months, so they said he should concentrate on getting all the paperwork done for the last few and not take on any new cases."
"Are you looking forward to this at all?" John asked, smirking at her over their salads.
"Yes," she protested feebly.
"Come on, even Sherlock could do better than that," he teased. "Try again."
"I love Gen and Deb, and Greg's dying to see his sisters and their kids. But it's the West Country; it's boring beyond belief."
"Surely you could do some sketching or something – isn't it supposed to be beautiful out there?"
"Watching too many Jane Austen adaptations, John?" He flushed at the reminder of the night she'd walked into the flat to find him and Greg half-drunk with Northanger Abbey on in front of them. She'd stayed to watch the end with them, at which point a pink-cheeked John had said he needed to go home and check on Sherlock; she'd watched him go and then, without any shame, stolen Catherine's move of surging forward and kissing her husband until his back hit a wall. Greg hadn't bothered with embarrassment at all, and that had just made her all the more eager to make his legs turn to jelly.
John was studiously spearing the asparagus in his salad. "None of your business. Where do you want to go, then?"
"What?" She hadn't realised she was even longing for a trip until he posed the question.
"Well, where was the last place you went?"
"It's all been family visits to the West Country and Cambridge. The last time we took a proper trip was on our honeymoon. We went to the Maldives."
"That sounds lovely."
"Yeah, it was." They had been together for a few years already at that point, so the only surprise had been how much it shook her to look at him and see her ring on his finger, how disbelieving she was when her own clinked against her teacup or caught the light when she raised a hand to his supremely contented face.
"So where would you want to go?" John repeated patiently. He was already done with his salad and she hadn't done more than push leaves aside to find a few olives.
"Greece," she said decisively. "I'd like to stand in front of the Parthenon before I die."
He nodded, smiling at the waitress to get the last of his meal – a pot of strong tea and a slice of iced lemon cake – delivered to the table. "Well, you'd better go, then. Doctor's orders."
"I have to work for my supper?" John asked, sounding frankly aghast; he was a better actor than he admitted.
"Better than singing for it, mate, I've heard your voice," Greg said. "Just need to put together a few bookshelves, nice and easy."
John groaned but stripped off his jacket and got to work. Vee watched him while the pressure cooker weight shuddered in place; he didn't even look like the same man she'd first met, scrawny and worn through, whose hands shook and whose leg regularly betrayed him. John looked strong enough to take on anything now, and did, if she could count on Sherlock Holmes to be exactly as idiotic as he sounded.
The cooker whistle blew and she ducked back into the kitchen. She could hear Greg interrogating John in a discreet undertone, evidently not realising she could hear every word once the whistle stopped its screech. She kept up the illusion of privacy by clattering spoons against pots, but she still heard John say definitively, "Greece. She wants to go to Athens."
Greg must have said something about being unable to afford to splash out like that – she was occupied with blending the sauce for the chickpeas in quick little pulses – because John said, "Just take her, you cheap bastard. You can use the money you're saving on a carpenter by pressing me into service instead." His voice betrayed how pleased he was to have sawdust in his hair and a reasonable task in front of him, and Greg must have heard it, judging by the tone of his murmured response.
She left everything to marinate a little longer and went back out to the living room. Her sketchpad was right there, so she flipped it open and began to draw them, two strong bodies conspiring to defeat gravity and create something of use and beauty. It was too bad, she thought, as her fingers flew, smudging the pencil marks for the right depth of shade, that her medium didn't allow her to record the grunts and laughter that filled the air around them.
They were a remarkably efficient team, and they had both bookcases assembled and positioned more quickly than she'd anticipated. She rose from her position on the floor, where she'd been trying out variations in perspective, and her knees cracked dramatically. "Oh, you've got to be joking," she muttered.
"Getting old," John said, all spurious wide-eyed innocence, as if he weren't only a few years younger.
"Quiet, you," Greg said, aiming a light slap at the back of John's head, and leaning over to kiss her once the blow landed.
"Can we put off dinner for an hour?" she wheedled. "I want to see what I can make out of this." They both nodded, good-tempered as the best men were, and Greg fetched bottles of beer from the kitchen.
"You," she said to John, who'd accepted his drink with a smile, "would make a gorgeous statue." Marble was definitely the right medium for him, all steady and solid in body and lined in face, wearing his life's experiences on his skin.
"Make me immortal, then," he joked, laughter lighting him up. He trailed off when she didn't join in. "No, really, Sherlock's the one who looks like he belongs in a museum."
"Or the nuthouse," Greg said into his bottle.
She didn't disagree with John's assessment of his flatmate; she'd seen Sherlock half a dozen times by now, and those odd features and whipcord grace were well worth recording. "God, no," she said aloud. "It would take the patience of a saint to sculpt his hair alone, and even then people would think I'd just done another Medusa."
John choked on his giggles and Greg thumped him on the back. "Sherlock would make a very good painting, though. Watercolours on wet paper, I think. Would he sit for me, do you think?"
"He's vain enough," John mused, "but I don't know if that's the form his vanity takes."
"Not even as a favour for a friend?" she asked, watching John's expressive eyes cloud over and clear again between one blink and the next at that.
"Maybe," he allowed. She nodded, then got lost in the work, seeing Greg and John take shape on the page, strong and certain and tested, like twin guardians in a modern mythology.
"Morning, Sally," Vee said through a mouthful of hairpins as she finished winding her hair into a knot that would stay in place for at least a few hours. "How was the wedding?"
"Very nice," Sally said. "Mamie looked lovely, Kevin is exactly who I'd pick for her. And – you were right – it decided me."
"Right about what?" she asked, leading the way back to the kitchen. "The hats?"
Sally smiled wanly at that and peered down the hallway. "Greg's still sleeping, but I can get him if you like," Vee offered; Sally had something to get off her chest, clearly, and working nights couldn't be making it easier for her to get past the jet-lag and get her life back on schedule.
"I'm not going to see Ted anymore," Sally said, face crumpling, and Vee stopped fussing with the kettle and wrapped her in a hug.
"How'd he take it?" she asked, soft words that Sally could pretend hadn't got past her shining curls.
"I haven't told him yet. We'll be on the same shift on Friday; I'll tell him then."
"Is he likely to be a bastard about it?"
Sally sniffed and clung to her. "I don't see why this would be the exception," she joked. "I'm sorry," she said, stepping back, but Vee didn't let her get away with that.
"Shush," she said, and hugged her again. Sally slumped a little in her arms, and then with a final squeeze they let go. "Go and sit. I'll have your tea ready in a minute."
When she came back out, Sally had her eyes fixed on her latest sketch of John and a wry grimace on her face. "He really is a nice man," Sally said.
"Yes," Vee agreed, setting down the tea and biscuits and easing the sketchbook from Sally's unresisting hands.
"What's the occasion?" she asked when John showed up at their door, coming straight from work. No, straight after running an errand after he'd finished work for the day; she could see a Waterstone's bag in his hand.
"Is Greg home?" he asked, brushing by her to get into the flat.
"He just texted to say his shift is done and he's on his way. What's going on?"
"He's the cake, I'm just the icing," John said.
"That was terribly subtle, John; I'm not sure but I think you were hinting that you wanted a slice of the cake I just bought. Could it be?"
He grinned at her, shameless as an imp, and she couldn't help grinning back.
"If you're having one, I will too. Just to keep you company."
"Of course," he agreed promptly. "It's only fair."
Greg walked in just as they were sucking crumbs from their fingers. "Couldn't even wait for me, could you?" he grumbled happily, smiling at the sight of them. "You didn't tell her, did you?"
John shook his head. "All you, mate. In fact I think I'll wait this one out in the living room with the telly on."
Greg watched him go then turned back to her with an air of triumph. "Close your eyes," he said, and she obeyed with alacrity. She heard the rustle of paper, and when he said, "Okay, now," she opened her eyes to see two airline tickets to Athens on her kitchen table.
She must have made some kind of odd, carrying noise at the sight of them because John rushed back in, more quickly than necessary. "No, I'm fine," she said, before grabbing Greg's head for a kiss that was just the start of what she wanted to do to him. "Wait, what's your news?"
"Just a little gift to make sure your experience is all that it could be," John said, opening the Waterstone's bag and handing her a book. Greek-English Phrasebook it said, with NEW YORK EDITION! printed underneath.
"New York?" she asked, puzzled, but John was already smiling and taking it back.
"Trust me, the plain old English version was not nearly as exciting." He flipped through a few pages. "See, there are three columns: one Greek, one English, one New York. So, we have 'ne' and 'yes' and 'abso-fucking-lutely.'"
"What?" Greg asked, while she went off into a gale of laughter.
"Or, if someone is being particularly persistent, you could say 'fige,' which can be translated either as 'go away,' which seems likely to be ineffective, or 'get the fuck out of here, fuckface.'" John was giggling rather madly himself, and Greg snatched the book from his hands with a look of disbelief. She fell into John's arms and watched her husband's eyes get wider and wider.
"This will get us arrested!" Greg protested, and there really was no point trying to get herself under control.
"Abso-fucking-lutely," John said.
they roar in chorus, not in tune
Sarah hadn't been expecting him – though, really, given how often Sherlock was in a strop, maybe she should have been – but she let him in. He smiled at her, finding it charming that she kept smoothing down her hair like it looked messy instead of just appealingly disordered.
Her flat was full of pretty objects, things he could imagine her buying herself as rewards: this vase for landing the job at the surgery, that painting for being promoted to the head of it. He didn't have to be his disastrous flatmate to read her flat, to read her, beautiful and dressed down for home in her blue jeans and green top. "Hi," she said, smiling back and leaning forward to kiss him. Her mouth was firm and welcoming, and he got one hand up to thread through her hair.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, breaking away. "I do lovely gourmet takeaways."
He laughed at her self-deprecation and kissed her again, tasting the wine she'd been drinking. "Doesn't even have to be gourmet."
"Good, because I'm craving shepherd's pie and chips," she confessed. He kept his arms round her while she placed their order, and she turned to face him as she clicked her mobile shut.
Just looking at her was good for him; he could feel the spikes of his irritation with Sherlock being smoothed down by her calming presence. He looked at her fair skin and clear eyes and did not ask just what she'd been thinking to give him another chance instead of cutting her losses and running.
John stretched as best he could, trying to work out the kinks Sarah's godawful sofa had left in his neck and back, and resolutely kept himself from wondering if he'd have been better off at Greg's place, in that luxurious spare bed with Vee's spicy food a warm weight in his stomach and the promise of companionship in the morning. Or if he should have stuck it out with Sherlock, whose look of surprise when John walked out was surely evidence that he hadn't meant to be hurtful with his lashing out.
In any case, John had come to Sarah and she'd taken him in, and he looked forward to thanking her properly for it. She walked into the living room, her light-blue robe outlining her body, and he wanted to untie it and lay her down and feel her warm skin against his. But she spoke, keeping things light, and he was assailed once more by disbelief at her beauty; he still wasn't sure what exactly he was doing in her flat, getting to see her first thing in the morning, getting to joke with her about breakfast and future dates.
He smiled after her as she went off to have a shower, and he sat in peace and quiet for a moment before his world shrank to the size of the TV screen. He knew that building, even if it took him far too long to read the caption House destroyed in Baker St. His heart hiccupped and his throat clenched tight. Sherlock was all he could think, but he forced himself to say the other name, calling out for Sarah as he gathered himself to run home, back to where he belonged.
As always, I'd love to hear what you think.


text:
Skill Level: Easy
Although the Love Knot stitch has the power to singlehandedly turn an Easy pattern into an Intermediate one, this design is a special case. What traditionally makes the Love Knot stitch intermediate-level is the skill needed to make each Love Knot the same size. This design looks better if the Love Knots are irregular. In other words, it’s perfect for a Love Knot beginner!
Even if you’re experienced with Love Knots, it’s likely that these “Lovepods” are new to you. They work up quickly with a range of yarns: one row of big stitches and you’re done creating this magical crochet look.
It may look ethereal but thanks to the mohair, this necklace-like accessory buffers drafts like a scarf. Weightless and warm, there are many ways to drape it around the neck and shoulders. Make two different colors in different yarn weights and twist them together.
After using this pattern you will know (if you didn’t already):
- How to crochet a Love Knot stitch (a.k.a. Lover’s Knot, Solomons Knot, Knot Stitch)
- How to use Love Knots for the foundation row instead of chain stitches
- How to turn Love Knots into “Lovepods”
- How to choose from a range of mohair yarns for this project
The pictured lavender Lovepods Boa is 64 inches/162 cm, worn doubled up. However, it’s easy to customize the length.
Notes About Materials
Hook size and gauge are not important for this design. Feel free to use the hook size that gives desired results with the yarn you choose; I’ve included a list of yarns with my own swatching notes in the pattern.
Different mohair yarns can look alike until they are crocheted, so experiment with different hook sizes, or with holding more than one strand together, if you don’t see your yarn described in the pattern. Look for a worsted weight one to start with.
Pattern includes the option to make a full Boa with one yarn (it is folded in half then twisted), or with multiple yarns (two Boas twisted together lightly). My favorite Boa (the lavender one) is made of two Boas twisted together. All other Boas pictured are made with a single yarn each.
Yarn used for Lavender Boa: Ellen’s ½ Pint Farm’s Brushed Mohair (100% Mohair, 980yds/896m per 16oz/454g skein), color hand painted purple: 1 ball. S. R. Kertzer’s Ovation (75% Mohair, 25% Silk; 232yds/212m per .88oz/25g ball), Color 2123 lavender. By itself, this laceweight mohair blend is too thin for a K/6.5mm hook size; for a Boa, it’s magical when held together with the metallic Filatura di Crosa Night (66% rayon, 34% polyester; 314yds/287m per .88oz/25g ball), fingering wt., color #201 Silver. I used a G/4mm hook.
Yarn for Dark Blue Boa: Lion Brand’s Moonlight Mohair (35% Mohair, 30% Acrylic, 25% Cotton, 10% Polyester Metallic; 82yds/75m per 1.75oz/50g skein), color #205 Glacier Bay: 1 ball.
Yarn for White Boa: Nashua Handknit’s Creative Focus Kid Mohair (75% Kid Mohair, 20% Wool, 5% Nylon; 98yds/90m per 1.75oz/50g ball), color #0001 White, 1 ball.
Yarn for Teal Boa: Louet’s Mohair Worsted Wt. (78% Mohair, 13% Wool, 9% Nylon; 105yds/96m per 1.75oz/50g skein), color #81 Aquamarine: 1 ball.

domain: artistic


text: Try using photobucket instead. Also, I downloaded the pic. It's a decent edit but you've got too much excess that increases the file size (28MB? WTH?) so crop off as much as you can before you post it. Also, just to explain what it is to others. It's Naruto wearing the green suit that Gai gave him.

domain: hobby


text:
Orbit Small Gold Earrings by Temple of the Sun
The Small Orbit Earrings in 18K Gold Vermeil are a delicate hoop earring. Dotted bands along each earring evoke the curved path charted by celestial bodies, while the open circle design symbolises possibilities and adventure; a journey that has not yet come to an end. The Large Orbit Earrings speak to the many stages we experience throughout our ongoing journey.
Return PolicyRead Full Return Policy
We will gladly accept returns of unwarn merchandise with tags attached within 7 days of purchase for a refund on the original payment method, and up to 14 days for store credit.
Free nationwide shipping over $150. Use code FREESHIP at checkout.


text:
There’s a problem at the moment in Britain with our sense of national identity. The problem is a compound of many things of course: an all-pervasive curse of pop music and TV soaps, muddle about the way history is (or isn’t) taught in schools, a substantial and growing Islamic presence, confusion about our role in the world, an obsession with denouncing the (real and imagined) mistakes and evils of our past. But probably the single most important component is the one that most debates and discussions on the subject overlook: the collapse of marriage and family structures. And new laws that took effect in April this year are going to have a marked impact on all of this.
First, some background. New textbooks on “citizenship” for use in our schools—very much a project of the moment—emphasize sexual options as a fundamental part of “Britishness.” We are meant to assume that having various sexual leanings—heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual—is all part of the culture of “choice” that is our birthright. The idea that a nation is built on families, and that the passing on of family names, along with traditions and history, culture and folklore, is central to the concept of nationhood would be regarded as anathema. I say “would be” because, as far as I know, no one has actually dared to announce it even as a suggestion. Sexual relationships are, in the current parlance, “all about choices,” and it seems now to be regarded as quite wrong to suggest otherwise.
Now for the new laws: Under the new Sexual Orientation Regulations just passed by Parliament, anyone who challenges this notion of “choices” and appears in any way whatsoever to criticize the homosexual lifestyle will be criminalized. And I do mean criminalized: There are to be fines and possibly even custodial sentences for anyone who fails to deliver “goods and services” to people who are actively homosexual—”goods and services” in this instance including, for example, children who must be offered to homosexual couples for adoption from now on.
“Britishness,” you see, is all about freedom to choose— not freedom for the child, of course, or for the natural mother giving up her baby for adoption, who might have wanted to specify a male/female married couple. No, “freedom” today is defined by political correctness.
There are many horrible aspects to all of this, one of the saddest being that the secretary of state who steered the legislation through Parliament is a Catholic, Ruth Kelly, whose membership in Opus Dei is much paraded (she’s a supernumerary).
Kelly has said that she is proud to have gotten this legislation onto the statute book. She presumably hasn’t read Sacramentum Caritatis, the recent papal exhortation on the Eucharist, which states:
Worship pleasing to God can never be a purely private matter, without consequences for our relationships with others: it demands a public witness to our faith. Evidently, this is true for all the baptised, yet it is especially incumbent upon those who, by virtue of their social or political position, must make decisions regarding fundamental values, such as respect for human life, its defense from conception to natural death, the family built upon marriage between a man and a woman, the freedom to educate one’s children, and the promotion of the common good in all its forms. These values are not negotiable (emphasis added).
But irrespective of how Kelly copes with her conscience, Britain now has a problem with its marriage laws.
The law establishes the basis of the social relationship of marriage, sets its tone, and confirms its status in the community. I became aware of this in a very particular way. When I married more than 25 years ago, it was in a Catholic Church, but due to a falling-out between the local registration authority and our parish priest, it was necessary for brides from our parish to go to the local register office and arrange personally for someone to attend the ceremony as a legal witness and sign the relevant papers. I expected this to be a quick matter of a phone call, but soon discovered this was not the case. Marriage was taken seriously. On arrival at the registrar’s I was ushered into a rather grand office and asked to take a seat.
The kindly, rather serious official in front of me began: “Now. Marriage under the law of England and Wales is the union of a man and a woman, exclusive of others, for life. Can you confirm that you understand that?” And with a seriousness that I had not known I would feel, and a sense of solemnity about what I was considering to undertake, I answered, “Yes.”
I appreciated then—and appreciate now—the solemnity with which the matter was approached. As he proceeded to explain to me what I needed to know (including the information that, when making my vows, I must speak loudly enough for the registrar, sitting in the front pew, to hear me), I was very much aware that I was embarking on something that was of huge legal and social, as well as personal and spiritual, significance. I have never forgotten it, and that spring day in 1980 at the register office is as etched in my mind as the later September day when Jamie and I made our vows together before God, with all the glory of a Mozart Mass and bridal finery and hugs and tears and fun and joy of a family wedding.
So where’s the problem? It is simply this: Today, by reiterating what I was told by that registrar, let alone what was stated in church and what I know and believe as a Catholic concerning marriage, I could, under certain circumstances, be in legal trouble.
As a Catholic journalist and commentator on these issues, I am—or have been up until now—sometimes invited into schools and colleges to take part in conferences and seminars on marriage and related issues. And up until now I have welcomed all such opportunities, indeed relished them.
“Sexuality is ordered to the conjugal love of man and woman,” the Catechism of the Catholic Church proclaims. “In marriage the physical intimacy of the spouses becomes a sign and pledge of spiritual communion. Marriage bonds between baptized persons are sanctified by the sacrament” (2360). In explaining the Christian understanding of marriage—and the fact that it echoes the natural law written into the very fabric of our being, which undergirds the law of our country that governs how we are to live—I have been privileged to be part of some excellent classroom discussions, hear some forthright views, and be touched by young people’s statements of their beliefs, hopes, and aspirations.
But under the Sexual Orientation Regulations, which were passed with minimal parliamentary debate (despite a valiant attempt in the House of Lords to tackle them properly), it is going to be difficult for me to talk about marriage in schools anymore, or even be of much use as a visiting Catholic journalist. The new regulations expressly ban my doing anything that might make pupils of homosexual inclinations uncomfortable. Suggesting—let alone firmly stating—that marriage is, by definition, a bond between a man and a woman is going to be rather too antagonistic. Affirming the Catholic Church’s position on other sexual relationships, including the homosexual one, is going to be trickier still unless I am prepared (which I’m not) to state that it is possible that the Church is wrong, or that other opinions on homosexual activity are of equal moral worth and validity, or that I recognize that everyone has the right to affirm his or her own sexual desires in his or her own way.
Basing itself on Sacred Scripture, which presents homosexual acts as acts of grave depravity, Tradition has always declared that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered.” They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved (CCC 2357).
I have never actually quoted that in a school, and I have no particular desire to do so. In general, I steer well away from the subject. I’m concerned with communicating the facts about the Church’s message on marriage, or my own involvement with this as a Catholic journalist. But if the issue comes up, I am certainly prepared to quote the Catechism and explain that I support its teaching—and I’d probably link the section just quoted with the next, which says, among other things: “The number of men and women who have deep-seated homosexual tendencies is not negligible. They do not choose their homosexual condition: for most of them it is a trial. They must be accepted with respect, compassion and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided” (CCC 2358). I might go on to add that such people are not just a “they”—for among such people are personal friends, people I enormously like and whose company I enjoy.
So what am Ito do? I’m probably not going to be asked to speak about marriage or relationships much anymore. I have benefited from some—though not many—schools’ attempts to present “both sides” of the debate on relationships, which does offer a little more than the usual school-nurse-with-contraceptives deal. But it now seems likely that this will slowly dry up or cease altogether.
Will there be a test case to get the legislation examined in the courts? When details of the Sexual Orientation Regulations were announced, the Catholic bishops publicly expressed worry about the position of Church adoption agencies that cannot, while remaining true to the Church, offer children to homosexual couples who, by their lifestyle, openly oppose Catholic teaching. It simply makes the whole idea of having a Catholic adoption agency pointless. It remains to be seen what, if any, legal steps the bishops decide to take. But there are other, much wider implications of the regulations.
The stated idea is that people of various “sexual orientations” should not be denied “goods or services.” It was made clear to the bishops that adoptive children are, in this instance, to be regarded as “good and services” and must be offered to practicing homosexuals under the law. And denial of goods and services is linked to the notion that people must be free from any sort of harassment—which could include being told, in a classroom, that certain activities are “intrinsically disordered,” or that a “marriage” with a person of the same sex is simply not recognized by the Catholic Church. And what about, for example, a retirement home run by a Christian group that does not want to treat lesbian and homosexual couples as married?
Speaking in schools is only a small part of my work, and journalistic talents can be flexible. I might decide to open up a new area of work by producing materials for weddings— helping with Orders of Service, choosing nice quotes for wedding programs or menus. If I am then approached by a lesbian couple and politely decline to do business with them, I could be prosecuted, even if I simply find some polite excuse and express it in a pleasant and friendly way, designed not to give offense. If I were helping to run a publication, and we chose not to have an advertisement from some organization promoting homosexual marriage, there could be similar legal consequences. And so on.
A few bishops have already expressed their concerns. Cormac Cardinal Murphy-O’Connor, archbishop of Westminster, protested the denial of democracy: “My fear is that, under the guise of legislating for what is said to be tolerance, we are legislating for intolerance. Once this begins, it is hard to see where it ends. The question is whether the threads holding together pluralist democracy have begun to unravel.” And Scotland’s Keith Cardinal O’Brien said, “The role of the state is overreached when it tramples legitimate moral freedoms and when it imposes values which are without rational and sociological merit.”
The plain fact is that the law now clashes directly with religious freedom, and no exemptions have been granted for Church schools, or for independent ones, so the denial of good and wholesome debate on a crucial subject is being imposed on all.
What do I do? What do any of us do? Shrug, I suppose, and admit that male/female marriage is now a personal thing. Something to be spoken of with confidence only within the confines of our churches (they are protected under the law—an echo of the old. Soviet legislation that confined all religious activity to church buildings, with penalties for anyone who took part in Christian activities beyond those walls); something to be affirmed as a private belief, for those who like that sort of thing. Technically, for the time being at least, the law of England and Wales will continue to affirm that marriage is a lifelong bond between a man and a woman—but will a registrar have quite the same confidence in uttering those words as that nice chap had in saying them to me a quarter of a century ago? He has presumably long since retired, and I expect his successor has been fully trained in officiating at civil unions—homosexual marriage in all but name. (Incidentally, a Catholic, according to a detailed and useful statement issued by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, should not officiate at such a ceremony. But is it likely that any Catholic in modern Britain who tried to affirm his conscientious objection to such duty would get very far?)
In teaching children about “Britishness,” I suppose schools will emphasize freedom, rights, the idea that ours is a country where we can make choices and live by them. I am not at all sure that this is an adequate summary of what being British is all about, but even if it were, it is not the case. The most profoundly important decisions are, and always, have been, about things that matter not only to us but to others, and therefore include community responsibilities and obligations that sometimes (and correctly) involve the law of the land.
But that law no longer affirms marriage between a man and a woman as the fundamental and irreplaceable basis for our society, and hence for our nation. There can be no “Britishness” now that this has occurred, and none will return until it is corrected. Only then will we be able to face our very considerable social problems—our sense of isolation from our own history, our loss of community and neighborly spirit, the recent and rapidly growing presence of Islam in what was once a Christian nation, and more—and regain some sort of confidence in our future.

domain: politics


text:
Answer: Trumpet vine should be hardy in Denver so unless the soil got really soggy over the wintertime, your vines should grow this spring. Cut back the obviously dead stems to promote new growth. Sometimes trumpet vines won't bloom for 2-3 years after planting so I don't think that is of concern (disappointment, maybe, but not a plant health concern). If the roots made it through the winter you should see new growth a few weeks after pruning them back. Hope so!
Q&A Library Searching Tips

domain: biology


text:
Amid controversy, stem-cell study under way
WASHINGTON — Doctors have injected millions of human embryonic stem cells into a patient partially paralyzed by a spinal-cord injury, marking the beginning of the first carefully designed attempt to test the promising but controversial therapy, officials said yesterday.
The patient was treated Friday at the Shepherd Center, a 132-bed hospital in Atlanta that specializes in spinal-cord and brain injuries, according to an announcement by the hospital and Geron Corp. of Menlo Park, Calif., which is sponsoring the research.
The hospital is one of seven sites participating in the study, which is primarily aimed at testing whether the therapy is safe. Doctors also will conduct tests to see whether the treatment restores sensation or enables the patient to regain movement. No additional information about the first patient was released.
The milestone was welcomed by scientists eager to finally move the research from the laboratory to the clinic, as well as by advocates for patients and by patients hoping for cures.
Although the cells have been tested in animals, and some clinics around the world claim to offer therapies using human embryonic stem cells, the trial is the first to have been vetted by a government entity and aimed at carefully evaluating the strategy. After repeated delays, the Food and Drug Administration gave the go-ahead in July.
But the move was criticized by those with moral objections to any research using cells from human embryos, and it is raising concern even among many proponents. Some argue that the experiments are premature, others question whether they are ethical, and many fear that the trials risk disaster for the field if anything goes awry.
“Without knowing more clinical detail, there’s little I can say,” said Steve Goldman, chairman of the department of neurology at the University of Rochester in New York. “In more general terms ... I remain concerned about the long-term safety of unpurified grafts of embryonic stem-cell derivatives. Time will tell.”
David Prentice, senior fellow for life sciences at the Family Research Council, said: “Geron is helping their stock price, not science and especially not patients. It will be years before there is hard evidence about safety or effectiveness. Adult stem cells have published evidence documenting effective treatment of spinal-cord injury.”
Supporters of the privately funded research are confident that it has been exhaustively vetted. The FDA has demanded extensive experiments in the laboratory and on animals to provide evidence that the cells hold promise and are safe enough to test in people.
“Initiating the ... clinical trial is a milestone for the field of human embryonic stem cell-based therapies,” said Thomas B. Okarma, Geron’s president and chief executive, in a statement. “This accomplishment results from extensive research and development and a succession of inventive steps.”
But some scientists worry that if patients are hurt by the cells — or even if there’s no hint that the cells help — it could be a devastating blow to the field. They cite the case of Jesse Gelsinger, whose 1999 death from a gene-therapy experiment set that once-highly touted field back years.
Safety worries — most prominently fears that the cells could cause tumors — prompted the FDA to repeatedly demand additional data from Geron, including assurance that cysts that developed in mice injected with the cells posed no threat.

domain: health


text:
I am no authority on Liberals, I am no authority on any subject other than possible myself. Having said this, I will say, I think I know a few things about the creeps in America known as Liberals. I will list but 10 things Liberals seem to HATE, this list could be expanded to 10,000,000, but 10 is ample for my point.
1) liberals hate God, liberals hate morality, they support homosexuality, same sex marriage, abortion and freedom to use drugs as they wish.
2) liberals hate the U.S. Constitution.
3) liberals hate American Exceptionalism.
4) liberals hate justice (and have an extremely distorted view of it).
5) liberals hate human progress and advancement.
6) liberals hate personal achievement, and love Unions that protect the slackers.
7) liberals hate truth.
8) liberals hate themselves.
9) Liberals hate the U.S. Military.
10) They hate the traditional family structure, and want it eliminated as it exists today.


text:
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|Named Person:||Nikolaĭ Vasilʹevich Gogolʹ|
|Document Type:||Visual material|
|All Authors / Contributors:||
Henry Koster; Jerry Wald; Philip Rapp; Harry Kurnitz; Eugene Loring; Sylvia Fine; Danny Kaye; Walter Slezak; Barbara Bates; Elsa Lanchester; Gene Lockhart; Walter Catlett; Alan Hale; Rhys Williams; Nikolaĭ Vasilʹevich Gogolʹ; Warner Bros. Pictures.; First National Pictures, Inc.; Roan Group (Firm); Troma Team Video (Firm)
|Notes:||Restored version of a motion picture originally released in 1949.
Based on the Nikolaĭ Gogolʹ story entitled Revizor.
Special features include: biographies of the cast ; production notes ; film restoration by Cary Roan.
|Credits:||Director of photography, Elwood Bredell ; editor, Rudi Fehr ; musical direction and incidental score, Johnny Green.|
|Cast:||Danny Kaye, Walter Slezak, Barbara Bates, Elsa Lanchester, Gene Lockhart, Alan Hale, Walter Catlett, Rhys Williams.|
|Target Audience:||Not rated.|
|Description:||1 videodisc (approximately 102 min.) : sound, color ; 4 3/4 in.|
|Contents:||Dance and musical numbers: The medicine show / performed by Danny Kaye --
Brodny / sung by Kaye and chorus --
The inspector general / sung by Kaye --
Soliloquy for three heads / sung by Kaye (as a quartet) --
[Calisthenics and tumbling sequence] / performed by Kaye and male ensemble --
Happy times / sung by Kaye --
Gypsy drinking song / performed by Kaye.
|Responsibility:||a Troma Team release ; Warner Bros. Pictures presents ; a Warner Bros.-First National Picture ; screen play by Philip Rapp and Harry Kurnitz ; choreography by Eugene Loring ; lyrics and music by Sylvia Fine ; produced by Jerry Wald ; directed by Henry Koster.|
- Military inspectors general -- Russia -- Drama.
- Mistaken identity -- Drama.
- Impersonation -- Drama.
- Corruption investigation -- Drama.
- City councils -- Corrupt practices -- Drama.
- Gogolʹ, Nikolaĭ Vasilʹevich, -- 1809-1852 -- Film adaptations.
- Comedy films.
- Musical films.
- Feature films.

domain: entertainment


text:
Posted on: July 12, 2016 | Written By: Doug Oster |
As our bus stopped in the little town of Chemanius on Vancouver Island in British Columbia we had 45 minutes to explore this quaint city.
The bay was filled with lumber and you could smell it from a mile away standing atop a look out next to gift shops and other tourist attractions.
The buildings in town are painted with murals and the first one I saw captivated me. Dan Sawatzky’s “Company Store,’ from 1983 depicts the Victoria Lumber Company and Manufacturing Company Store circa 1917 with garden seeds for sale.
That was a good omen that this quick stop might lead to something cool.
I came across a pub planted with a huge salvia I had never seen before. It had spectacular red and white flowers and I was surprised by its size, I guessed that it must have wintered over. The garden all the way around the bar was filled with lilies, anemone plants budding up, and low growing sun loving annuals.
Walking down the hill there were the most beautiful Asian buildings behind a residential home. There were two remarkable sequoia trees which crossed at their tops near the power lines. As I photographed the door to one of the buildings a woman walked by with a ladder, gave me a smile and walked on.
Right across he street was the coolest nursery ever. Sandpiper Gardens and Glass looks to be on about three city lots and is jammed with annuals, perennials, vegetables, seeds and a wild variety of garden goodies.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw pots filled with the same salvia and it was labelled too! ‘Hot Lips’ is one I will search catalogs for to plant next season. As I poked around I didn’t want to bother anyone, but had a nice conversation with the husband of the owner. I asked if ‘Hot Lips’ wintered over. He looked at me, smiled and pointed to his wife. “Ask my wife, she’ll know. I kept looking around, saw artichokes getting ready for harvest and saw a gnome I had to have as I wanted to remember this place.
When the owner came over I told her I was just passing through and needed to be back to the bus in about 15 minutes. We had a wonderful conversation about gardening, seeds, zones and more.
Ends up the nursery maintains the gardens up at the pub and ‘Hot Lips’ has been coming back for several years, becoming a small shrub in this mild climate.
I brought my gnome to the front asked if there was anything else that was weird of different that I could buy to remember Sandpiper. A young woman at the register started to peel a pretty watercolor card off the counter. “This will remind you of us,” she said as she handed it to me.
The owner slid the card in a bag next to the gnome and then showed me some strange beautiful white poppies that were in full bloom on a lot across the street.
As we parted ways I realized I didn’t even know her name, but I told her I’d be back in ten years, the next time I visit Canada.
I’ll always think of this wonderful little nursery every time I look at that yellowish green gnome. I’m looking forward to finding just the right place for it in the landscape.
It’s these little moments that make traveling so much fun, especially for a gardener.


text:
Nikki Haley Visits “America’s Newsroom” Former U.S. Ambassador to the UN Nikki Haley tweeted her own remarks from a speech in which she said she — or at least someone who identifies as female — will be the next president of the United States.
Haley originally made the remarks while delivering the keynote address at the Christians United for Israel (CUFI) 2022 Washington Summit in Arlington, Virginia. At the time, she was referring to the possibility that Democrat President Joe Biden could sign a new nuclear agreement with the Islamic Republic of Iran, even though Iran says that they are now capable of building a nuclear weapon.
“And if this president signs any sort of deal, I’ll make you a promise,” Haley tweeted, “The next President will shred it – on her first day in office.”
Haley, who is considered to be part of a wide field of candidates who could challenge former President Trump for the GOP nomination in 2024, generated skepticism online with the remark.
“Any GOP president will shred the deal, which is why they’re gonna try another way,” National security expert and political commentator David Reaboi tweeted. “But regardless, you won’t be president.”
“Imagine how long her staff workshopped this line,” political commentator Jack Posobiec quipped.
Kaelan Door, a former Trump official, compared Haley, a former governor of South Carolina, to twice failed Democrat presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, writing: “She’ll melt it with the hot sauce in her bag, while chillin’ in Cedar Rapids amirite?”
“Hillary Clinton levels of cringe,” former Trump White House special assistant to the president Steven Cheung tweeted.“With all due respect, we want DeSantis,” political commentator Harrison Krank tweeted.Polls show Florida Republican Governor Ron DeSantis as the leading potential primary challenger to Trump, but in addition to Haley, former Vice President Mike Pence, former Secretary of State Mike […]
We Often Feel Like David Taking on Giants
Today’s Goliath is the Mainstream Media Industrial Complex that brainwashes the masses.
Our mission is very straightforward: To counter the false narratives and nefarious agendas destroying America today. It isn’t easy for obvious reasons; despite incredible growth over the last year we are still a very tiny fish in a huge media pond. But we’re fighting and we will continue to do so, Lord willing, for as long as we possibly can. The battle for America’s present and future is too important for us to back down to the giants that stand in our way.
We need help. I don’t want to say “desperately,” but the need is definitely great. If you have the means, please donate through our GivingFuel page, PayPal, or our Substack page. Your generosity is what keeps these sites running and allows us to get the truth to the masses. We’ve had great success in growing but we know we can do more with your assistance.
Thank you, and God Bless!

domain: news


Honda Accord 2 Doors / 4 Doors 1996, Chrome/Red Euro Tail Lights by IPCW®, 1 Pair. Chrome housing, red/crystal clear lens. Bulbs: not included. Wiring Harness (not included). These parts are for those drivers who are bored of their monochromatic tail lights and want to change them into something more appealing and effective. These bolt-on Euro tail lights will give your vehicle an exclusive look and expand its lighting capabilities.
|Parking bulb: not included (re-use original)|
|Brake bulb: not included|
|Signal Bulb: not included|
|Backup bulb: not included|
|Socket: not included|
|Bulb type: halogen|
Unique, attractive design that complements your vehicle
Creative light and reflector layout will add an extraordinary look to your vehicle to make it stand out from the crowd.
Improved illumination for added safety on the road
Bright lights will significantly improve illumination and, therefore, increase your driving safety.
Install in the same way as OE lights
Designed to be an exact replacement for your OE lights to save up your time and effort.
Completely sealed and tested for hassle-free performance
Every light is rigorously tested to ensure smooth operation and hermetically sealed to prevent moisture from getting trapped inside.
Comply with all quality and legal standards
Approved by the SAE. Meet DOT regulations and are compliant with FMVSS 108.
If you have a difficult time finding your vehicle in the crowd of look-alikes in the parking lot, it is the right time for you to give your chariot a personal touch that will make it exclusively yours. You won't find a better way to do the trick than to replace your old boring stock lights. And when it comes to high quality and extremely beautiful lighting products, IPCW is the first name to be mentioned. Their Euro tail lights are a great, highly efficient solution to start your car on the path to exclusivity. Just for a small amount of time and effort, these awesome lights will significantly transform the back of your vehicle and give it a truly unique look.
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This video is called Honduras: Which Way?
By Raul Connolly in Australia:
Honduras: Death squads escalate killings
16 January 2010
The revival of death squads in Honduras has resulted in a significant increase in the abduction, rape, torture and murder of opponents of the regime that overthrew elected President Manuel Zelaya last June.
Death squads tied to the regime have increased their activity in the weeks after the fraudulent November 29 elections, which were boycotted by at least 65% of the population.
* * *
Add you name to the open letter to [Australian] foreign minster Stephen Smith demanding no support or recognition for Honduras’s illegal coup regime
* * *
A January 1 statement by the Committee of the Families of the Disappeared and Detained of Honduras said: “This week’s kidnapping, disappearance, torture and interrogation of journalist Cesar Omar Silva by a street patrol with military training confirms the existence of a pattern of systematic violations of human rights committed by the same structure that violated the constitutional order on June 28, 2009.
“The recent, related murders of Walter Trochez and Edwin Renan Fajardo [and] the sustained kidnappings and attacks on the staff of El Libertador and Radio Globo … confirms that a death squad with a terrorist infrastructure is operating in the country with the knowledge of the Police and the Army.
“In addition, the violent deaths of other [FNRG] members carried out in a selective manner by hit men in the service of the de facto regime, and the pursuit, disappearance, torture and interrogation of independent journalists, repeats the pattern of the 1980s-1990s, which left a tragic legacy of political assassinations and hundreds of forced disappearances.”
A January 13 Argenpress.info article also said that since the June coup, 19 gay rights activists have been assassinated.
Amnesty International called on Tuesday for Honduras’s president elect Porfirio Lobo to order an investigation into human rights abuses as his first act as leader when he assumes office on Wednesday: here.
Mass demonstrations and a boycott by Latin American heads of state has greeted the inauguration of Porfirio Lobo as president of Honduras, as the leader ousted in last year’s coup prepared to go into exile in the Dominican Republic: here.
Former president of Honduras Manuel Zelaya arrived in the Dominican Republic on Thursday to be received by an honour guard as he thanked the country’s president for “rescuing me from 129 days of imprisonment”: here.
The following statement was released on January 26 by Civil Council of Popular and Indigenous Organizations of Honduras (COPINH), which is part of the National Resistance Front Against the Coup (FNRG), on the protests planned for the following day against the inauguration of “president” Porfirio Lobo Sosa: here.
Two very different political meetings have highlighted how the aftermath of the coup d’etat in Honduras continues to polarise Latin American politics: here.
Honduran opposition group the National Front for Popular Resistance (FNRP) has torn into the ruling National Party’s promise to set up a “truth commission” to investigate last year’s coup d’etat, branding it “pure show”: here.
Honduras: Obama’s new puppets on display; Massive demonstration as
Lobo takes power
By Felipe Stuart Cournoyer, Managua
January 26, 2010 — During the dubious Honduran election process leading
up to voting day on November 27, 2009, the people would chant “Santos
de santo no tiene nada. Lobo de lobo lo tiene todo” [“(Elvin) Santos
gets nothing from the saints; Lobo’s taken it all from the wolf.”]
* Read more http://links.org.au/node/1480
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Jamie and Richard have shared 5 years of marriage together and they celebrate every year in Estes Park Colorado. It was only fitting to celebrate their vow renewal together with their closest friends and family at Mary’s Lake Lodge. From Jamie’s gorgeous dress she found at a steal to her sparkly shoes and gorgeous bow bouquet her best friend Tira hand made, everything went together perfectly....
Autumn Cutaia, based in the beautiful Rocky Mountains of Colorado photographs couples all over the Southwest. From canyons to mountains and big cities to small towns, Autumn believes every couple has a spark that's ready to be celebrated through beautiful imagery on their wedding day.Contact This Member
Today it’s officially official! I have been invited and accepted into Style Me Pretty‘s Little Black Book of vendors! Style Me Pretty is the creme de la creme of wedding blogs and the most beautiful wedding inspiration from around the world goes into this little slice of paradise. I’m so honored to be even mentioned near some of the other top wedding professionals in the...


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SAINSBURY’S on Archer Road in Sheffield has re-opened after a refurbishment.
The store, which reopened on Wednesday, has undergone a full internal refurbishment.
Together with internal upgrades, a new car park layout has improved traffic flow.
Darin Shipp, Sainsbury’s store manager, said the revamp was welcome.
He added: “The store is more than 25 years old and was beginning to show signs of age.
“The refurb has given the building a new lease of life.”


Three wins in his last five starts. Looks like Hale Irwin has found his game.
That could be bad news for the rest of the Senior PGA Tour.
Irwin, the Senior PGA's player of the year the last two years, was at his overpowering best Sunday. He closed with a 7-under-par 65 for a 267 total, winning the Senior Players Championship at Dearborn, Mich., by seven shots over Graham Marsh.
"I hardly know what to say. The last two rounds were exceptional," said Irwin, who played the final 36 holes in 15 under. "I just blitzed them."
Marsh started the day four strokes off the pace and shot a 68. John Jacobs bogeyed the final two holes for a 67 and finished third at 275.
"It was an awesome display of touch, control, aggression," Marsh said. "I mean, you name it, Hale did just about everything he wanted to do over the last two days."
Irwin started the final round at 14 under and quickly left everyone behind with birdies at Nos. 1 and 3. He turned at 17 under with a birdie at No. 9--starting a string of four holes he would play in 5 under.
"That just tends to slam the door on people who may be getting close," Irwin said.
He needed an 8-foot putt to save par at No. 10, and then Irwin put his game in overdrive. He used a 9-iron from 134 yards to eagle the 11th, rolled home a 35-foot birdie putt at the 12th and two-putted from about 45 feet to birdie the 13th.
Just like that, Irwin was 21 under. That matched the course record set last year by Gil Morgan at the TPC of Michigan, designed by Jack Nicklaus.
"It was fantastic to watch," Marsh said. "I have no complaints."
The tournament record is 27-under 261 by Nicklaus at nearby Dearborn Country Club, in 1990, the year before TPC of Michigan was completed.
Buick Classic: Duffy Waldorf birdied the last two holes of regulation to force a playoff, then made another birdie on the first extra hole to beat Dennis Paulson at Harrison, N.Y.
Waldorf was only seeking to get his 18-foot putt for a 4 close on the playoff hole, the par-5 18th. Paulson was already lying 5 after pushing his 3-wood right on his second shot and taking two chips to get the ball 25 feet from the cup. He missed his par putt.
"It was fun. We were both happy to be there," said Waldorf, who birdied the last two holes of regulation to force the playoff. "It was great to see him there."
Waldorf and Paulson have known each other since they started playing the same amateur events in Southern California starting when they were young teens. They competed against each other in college, Waldorf at UCLA and Paulson at San Diego State. Their wives are friends, and when they bump into each other at a golf course or a hotel pool, their kids play together.
It was no surprise, then, to see Waldorf and Paulson strolling down the fairway of the par-5 18th, the first playoff hole at the Westchester Country Club, chatting away even though $180,000 was at stake.
"Let me tell you, it's hard not to chat with Dennis," Waldorf said. "Dennis is `Chatty Cathy.' "
Waldorf won for only his second time on the PGA Tour. The $450,000 check was the biggest of his career.
Paulson, who closed with a 4-under 67, and Waldorf, who had a 71, finished regulation tied at 8-under 276.
European Grand Prix: David Park sank a short putt on the 18th hole at Newcastle, England, to win by one stroke, his first victory on the European tour.
Women's Public Links: Recent Arizona State grad Jody Niemann's individual victory drought that stretched back to high school ended with a 1-up victory over Sue Billek-Nyhus in the final at Santa Ana Pueblo, N.M.
PGA Club Pro Championship: Fog suspended play in the final round at Haven, Wis. Players will try to finish the tournament Monday. Jeff Freeman, who shot an even-par 72 Saturday and is at 4-under-par 212, had a one-stroke lead over Brett Upper after three rounds.


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Images from the Pen?arol neighborhood, Montevideo, Uruguay. ..In the beginning there was nothing. The arrival of the british marked the inception of Pen?arol neighborhood, with over 33 thousand square meters of construction, that included the garage, the train station, 8 houses for the boses, 44 homes for the workers, the general purpose store (Montevideo Trading Co.), the recreation center and the theater. ..Kids playing soccer in the streets of Pen?arol neighborhood, Montevideo, Uruguay. .


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Mumbai donned a vibrant and vivacious look yesterday on the eve of Janmashtami’s Dahi-Handi ritual in the city. Bollywood being an integral part of the city’s flavor found its favorite superstars celebrating the festival in all pomp and show. Koimoi takes you through the glimpses of how the stars celebrated Dahi-Handi in Mumbai
While the city was bustling with the chartbuster songs from his recent flick Chennai Express, the actor did the 1..2…3…4 with a local MLA. Not only did he break the handi but the actor also stayed to shake a leg with the MLA and the accomplices.
A day before his film Satyagraha was scheduled to hit the screens, actor Arjun Rampal attended the Dahi Handi festival organized by another politician Sanjay Nirupam, where he participated with great gusto!
The actor celebrated the Dahi-Handi festival in Ghatkopar, true Mumbaiya style. Rendering energy on stage, Hrithik Roshan enjoyed himself to the hilt immersing in the true aroma of the festivities.
Now, enjoy reading koimoi.com on your Android Smartphone. Download the FREE App right here.


02/28/2006. Remarks by Jack McKillop: "This aircraft was delivered to the USN in 1948 as BuNo 121646. Declared surplus in 1958, it was sold to a private owner in California in 1959 and registered N7699C. Two years later, It was sold to Daryl G. Greenamyer of Van Nuys, California and re-registered N111L and listed as Racer number "1".
On August 16, 1969,
Greenamyer set a new speed record for piston engine landplanes for
speed over a straight 3 km course at restricted altitude of 776.45
km/h (482.4637 mph) at Edwards AFB, California. The previous record
had been set on April 26, 1939 when a German Messerschmitt Me 209 V1
had achieved a speed of 755.138 km/h (469.22 mph).
Greenamyer also won
the National Air Races six times in this aircraft before it was
transferred to the Fighter Aircraft Museum at Mission Hills,
California, in 1975. In 1977, it was donated to the Smithsonian
Institution's National Air and Space Museum (NASM) and it is currently


text:
Political Privacy Should be a Civil Right
By Paul Sherman
Attorney David Marston and former Bush-administration official John Yoo wrote a recent op-ed in The Wall Street Journal making the case against the White House’s efforts to force federal contractors to disclose contributions, not just to candidates, but to any group that might run political advertisements. As readers of IJ’s Make No Law blog (www.makenolaw.org) are aware, this is a backdoor effort by the White House to achieve by fiat what it was unable to achieve in Congress, namely, passage of the so-called DISCLOSE Act.
Marston and Yoo’s op-ed is notable not just because it makes a strong case for the unconstitutionality of the Obama administration’s actions, but also as a mark of how much the debate over regulation of political speech has shifted in the past decade. When the now half-dead McCain-Feingold law was enacted in 2002, a major talking point among conservative elites was “no limits, full disclosure.” But increasingly—and quite correctly—opinion makers are beginning to recognize the significant costs that disclosure can impose on political participation.
So what has changed? Unquestionably, part of this change in elite opinion has been driven by high-profile incidents of political retaliation made possible by disclosure laws. But those incidents have received much more attention due to IJ’s effort to shed light on the burdens of disclosure laws. Indeed, when we first published Disclosure Costs: Unintended Consequences of Campaign Finance Reform in 2007, almost no one had bothered to study the impact of the laws on real people. We followed that study with many more, including: Campaign Finance Red Tape: Strangling Free Speech & Political Debate, Locking Up Political Speech: How Electioneering Communications Laws Stifle Free Speech and Civic Engagement, Mowing Down the Grassroots: How Grassroots Lobbying Disclosure Suppresses Political Participation, and Keep Out! How Campaign Finance Laws Erect Barriers to Entry to Political Entrepreneurs.
Other political scientists have now joined this debate. Professor Raymond La Raja of the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, recently released a working paper titled Does Transparency of Political Activity Have a Chilling Effect on Participation? His study measured “how individuals respond differently to making campaign contributions or signing petitions when provided with a subtle cue that the information will be made public.” His findings? Not only does disclosure have a chilling effect on participation, but the result is particularly pronounced for small donors and women.
La Raja concludes that his findings “should spur policymakers to reconsider the cost-benefit tradeoffs for disclosure policy, particularly for campaign finance.” Based on the growing number of voices questioning the conventional wisdom that more disclosure is always better, it seems that they might be. Here’s hoping that judges will follow suit.
Paul Sherman is an IJ staff attorney.
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Sen. Susan Collins said Monday on the Senate floor that she "can not believe that the answer" to the coronavirus crisis from Senate Democrats "is delay, delay, delay. No sense of urgency."
"Never have I seen Republicans and Democrats fail to come together when confronted with a crisis."
"Is that what we’ve come to?" Collins said, criticizing Democrats over the delay.
"We don’t have another day. We don’t have another hour. We don’t have another minute to delay acting."
SEN. SUSAN COLLINS: Mr. President, we are in the midst of a crisis in our country, a crisis caused by the coronavirus. I cannot believe that the answer to this crisis as we move to address the economic consequences that are so severe for the people of this country that the answer from our friends on the other side of the aisle is "delay, delay, delay." No sense of urgency. No hurry.
I will tell you, Mr. President, I've had the honor to serve in this body for many years. Never, never have I seen republicans and Democrats fail to come together when confronted with a crisis. We did so after 9/11. We did so with the financial meltdown in 2008. Here we are facing an enemy that is invisible but equally devastating to the health of our people and to the health of our economy. And yet unbelievably the Democratic leader objected to my even being able to speak this morning. Is that what we've come to?
The Democratic leader objected to our convening at 9:00 this morning so that we could begin working in earnest. Is that what we've come to? We've been working on a bipartisan basis, through the task force, with both Republicans and Democrats making very good progress, and putting together a comprehensive package, the third package that we have dealt with. This one is to address and prevent the economic devastation that is being caused by this virus.
We don't have another day. We don't have another hour. We don't have another minute to delay acting.
I have talked with businesses all over my state, small mom and pop businesses like a diner, a third-generation diner operated by the Simonas family in Lewiston, Maine. For the first time ever, they have had to close their doors. As Linda Simonas told me through tears yesterday, we -- this is the first time ever we have been unemployed. Our son is unemployed. Our friends who have worked with us at this diner for years are unemployed.
And we have a very good plan that we have worked in a bipartisan way, Marco Rubio and I on the Republican side, Ben Cardin and Jeanne Shaheen in very good faith on the Democratic side, that would help these small businesses and keep their employees paid.
Keep their employees getting paychecks. How can that possibly be controversial? How can any of us want to see millions of Americans lose their paychecks, their health insurance, their contributions to their retirement plans? We have a package that's part of this broader legislation. As the majority leader pointed out just yesterday, had we invoked cloture, that's not the end of the process. There still could have been 30 hours for us to refine this package. And keep in mind, every single one of these task forces has been bipartisan. Do we agree on everything? Of course not.
But surely, surely in this time of extreme crisis for our country, when people are getting sick, when people are dying from the coronavirus, when we are facing unemployment rates which could go as high as 20%, according to the treasury secretary, surely we ought to be able to pull together and work quickly to respond to the needs of the American people. Mr. President, I cannot believe the objections to proceeding to this package. Is this package perfect? No, but that's why negotiations are still going on. But don't we want to act quickly to provide relief to the American workers?
This is disgraceful. We do not have time. Time is not on our side. Let's get the job done for the American people.
Democratic Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez replied:
.@SenatorCollins can keep her crocodile tears.— Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (@AOC) March 23, 2020
She voted & fought HARD to strip pandemic prep funding. She helped drive the lack of preparation that we had leading up to this.
What’s actually disgraceful is her “I’m a Moderate Lady” dance to cover up brutal policies and votes. https://t.co/sY2Iv4y3fT


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News & Updates
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Experimental measurement of extravascular parenchymal BOLD effects and tissue oxygen extraction fractions using multi-echo VASO fMRI at 1.5 and 3.0 T.
|Title||Experimental measurement of extravascular parenchymal BOLD effects and tissue oxygen extraction fractions using multi-echo VASO fMRI at 1.5 and 3.0 T.|
|Publication Type||Journal Article|
|Year of Publication||2005|
|Authors||Lu H, van Zijl PCM|
|Journal||Magnetic resonance in medicine : official journal of the Society of Magnetic Resonance in Medicine / Society of Magnetic Resonance in Medicine|
|Date Published||2005 Apr|
Quantitative interpretation of BOLD fMRI signal changes has predominantly employed empirical models for the whole parenchyma and a calibration step is usually needed to determine the physiological parameters during activation. Although analytical expressions are available for the extravascular and intravascular components of the BOLD effects, it is difficult to experimentally separate tissue from blood signal contributions at the low magnetic fields in which most fMRI studies are performed. Even if this can be achieved, an additional problem that remains is the separation of two types of extravascular BOLD effects, namely those around microvasculature (in the parenchyma close to the site of activation) and those around draining macrovasculature (e.g., in tissue and CSF more remote from the site of activation). In the recently developed vascular space occupancy technique, blood signals are nulled and the activations are localized predominantly in gray matter, allowing experimental measurement of parenchymal extravascular R(2)* and its changes accompanying activation. When comparing such data with total parenchymal R(2)* changes in BOLD fMRI, the extravascular fractions were found to be 47 +/- 7% (mean +/- SEM, n = 4) and 67 +/- 6% at 1.5 and 3.0 T, respectively, in line with expectations that intravascular BOLD contributions are reduced at higher field. The present approach provides a noninvasive means to determine parenchymal oxygen extraction fraction (OEF) in situ. During visual stimulation, OEF values measured at 1.5 and 3.0 T were in good agreement, giving 0.23 +/- 0.01 and 0.21 +/- 0.01, respectively.
|Alternate Journal||Magn Reson Med|

domain: medical


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- Tue Dec 09, 2014 3:27 am
- Forum: Stepping Motors & Controls
- Topic: Solution for CSD569m-NAPA
- Replies: 6
- Views: 8578
Hi, we are having UZU brand placket attacher machine (Industrial sewing machine) and at the moment this machine out of order. We fount that the issue is with its motor unit and it is Oriental Motor product. while searching replacement i saw your feedback on other member inquiry that you have discont...