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02 Nov Bones of Contention
📅 Published on November 2, 2020
Written by Darren Todd
Rating: 9.60/10. From 5 votes.
The bones arrived on a Friday, in a pine crate the size of a steamer trunk.
"Is that it, Mr. Evans?" Eliot asked, his tone lacking awe. The rest of the earth science class conversed in whispers or stared out the row of bay windows overlooking the high school parking lot.
Mr. Evans seemed puzzled at the size as well, his brow wrinkling. He checked the manifest from the state museum. "Well," he said, extending the word as he studied the plastic-encased paper slip. "Pachycephalosaurus. Yep. That's the right one. It's heavy enough, that's for sure. I'll grant you the box doesn't exactly impress. Still, count us lucky. We'll only be the third high school to earn a genuine fossil display."
"How big will it be?" Eliot asked, his voice warming.
"It'll fill the plinth nicely. Bigger than a velociraptor. Ought to turn a few freshman heads."
"I can't wait to see her," Eliot said, rubbing the crate's unfinished wood.
"Looks like Elie found a prom date," came a voice from behind him. He turned to see Bryan Pagan smirking down at his phone, his two toadies cackling at the joke.
"It's 'Eliot', Mr. Pagan. And do put that phone away," the teacher said. "You know the rules."
Bryan's smirk widened. He kept his eyes on the screen in his hands. "Sorry, Teach. Just gotta put Elie's loving caress on Instagram real quick." He looked up. "Those rare moments of true love are such a gift."
At this, his cronies laughed harder, and half the class joined in.
"That's not my name," Eliot mumbled. He had bristled at Bryan's belittling nickname since the bully came up with it freshman year.
[irritating bell sound] The bell rang, ending class. The students filed out, none so much as glancing at the box of bones. Only Eliot remained. He waited several seconds for Mr. Evans to finish rooting around the storage locker.
"Where is that damned hammer?" The barrier between student and teacher lowered with the others gone. That Mr. Evans could speak frankly around Eliot made the senior smile despite the lingering angst Bryan had left.
"It's in the chest with the rock samples," Eliot said. Mr. Evans looked up, incredulous. "You used it to open a geode a couple weeks ago, remember?"
The teacher shook his head, laughing. "If half the class paid that much attention, my job would be several orders of magnitude easier."
Eliot huffed. "If Bryan Pagan vanished off the face of the earth, that might just happen."
The teacher looked around the empty classroom. The new STEM wing of the high school had opened only a month before. Every noise echoed in the space. He stepped closer to Eliot and spoke in a low voice. "Off the record, I'd feel no remorse if Mr. Pagan found another class. Not vanished off the face of the earth, but rather discovered a venue that appreciated his unique skill set."
"Heckling every person outside his clique, you mean?"
Mr. Evans smiled. "Perhaps. But if he left, someone else would take his place. Besides, I lose far more kids to social media than I do Bryan's sedition." He placed a hand on Eliot's shoulder. "You can't let him get to you, Eliot. It only feeds the fire. You're a senior now. You've got, what, a hundred and fifty days of high school left? Then you'll leave it behind forever. I'm not suggesting you'll miss it; I don't. It's just that, by the time you find your feet at State, Mr. Pagan will be a distant memory, as unimportant as what you're having for lunch."
Eliot nodded but felt no better. Bryan Pagan was a thug, and ignoring him only reaffirmed that. Eliot turned to leave but whipped back around. "Speaking of lunch, you care if I swing back by and help put her together?"
Mr. Evans crossed his arms. "What makes you think I'm willing to skip eating to assemble a sixty-million-year-old fossil?"
Eliot smiled and shrugged.
"All right, you got me. Sure. Come by and we'll see how much we can get done. I'll have it laid out by then, at least. I'll get my bio class to unpack it for me."
Eliot's smile faded as he turned for the door. The idea of other students handling the bones soured his stomach. He knew the thought was silly; bones that survived sixty-million years could endure teenagers laying them out for assembly. Still, his peers' flippant attitudes concerned him. At least once a day, a student dropped a five-hundred-dollar phone onto the school's concrete floor, only to pick it up and discover that the screen now resembled a spider web. They protested, of course, but never blamed themselves. Always the stupid phone, the stupid case, their idiot parents for not buying them the stupid one they wanted.
Any of them could as easily drop a bone and break off a vital piece, an evolutionary marvel encapsulated for ages, and show no more regard. The idea stole Eliot's awareness, and he walked far beyond his next class. The late bell returned him to the moment, and he bolted back the way he'd come.
Eliot ate most of his lunch — a small sandwich and chips he'd packed himself — while walking to the STEM wing. He moved between the other students, most of them eager to reach the cafeteria, voices already reaching a crescendo.
He passed the statue of Nikola Tesla that divided the science lab from the tech center and engineering department, surprised to find no one around. He entered Mr. Evans' classroom and found it empty, the lights off. The bones lay across several desks pushed together. There were so many that Eliot wondered how they all fit in that single case.
He ran his fingers over the brown, smooth surface of what must have been a leg bone, much like a human femur. When he did so, something happened. For an instant, he knew the life this creature led, eons ago. Nothing as concrete as images, but flickers of emotion, the adrenaline-fueled thrill of a hunt, the sound of a million insects buzzing like power lines. Even smells — an earthy aroma that lingered in his nostrils despite the pervading odor of paint and floor varnish in the lab.
His heart sped as if waking from a falling dream, and he struggled to find enough oxygen. Despite the near-panic, he gripped the bone like a club, eager for the flash of that other world to return.
He jumped when someone pushed open the door: Mr. Evans.
"Hey, Eliot. I guess you beat me here. I was just—." He stopped and walked closer. "Jeez, bud, you look a little off. You all right? You need me to call the nurse?"
Eliot stood in place for several seconds, then returned the bone to the desktop. Heat swelled along his back like he'd just run a mile. "No, Mr. Evans, I'm fine. Just…." He gestured in front of him. "We've got our work cut out for us." He attempted a laugh, but it came out a gasp.
Mr. Evans' frown remained. "Y'know, you don't have to help, Eliot. The administration only wants it up before the wing kickoff in two weeks. And a colleague who staged skeletons up at State is coming next week."
Eliot shook his head. "I don't– I mean, I do want to be here, Mr. Evans. I want to help." He gestured to the crate.
The teacher shrugged. "Okay. Let's get to it."
For the next half-hour, they sorted the bones into groups according to a set of arcane instructions that had Mr. Evans spewing PG curses, which echoed off the high, empty walls. "I'm gonna find out who wrote these and send them a thank you letter in Gaelic," he said. He shook the folded papers as if to force them to make sense.
"It's okay, Mr. Evans," Eliot said, taking a small bone and holding it up to the light. "I think I get it. It sort of makes sense to me."
Mr. Evans smiled. "That's enough for now, Eliot. Why don't you get to class?"
For the rest of the day, Eliot thought only of the bones. He'd handled them all throughout lunch with no further flashes, but surely he hadn't imagined it. The sensations lingered in his mind. What if that other place were here so long ago? This very spot, millions of years before man built upon it. It had been wild and unfettered then. Now humankind had tamed it so completely that strangers could send their children to learn together without worry. Brutes like Bryan Pagan could spend hours tormenting weaker people with no fear of reprisal. In that land, in that time, Bryan's bullying would meet with quick and absolute justice.
The nagging feeling made Eliot circle back toward the STEM wing after the final bell rang. If he saw Mr. Evans, he would make up something about forgetting his notebook. He hoped to find the lab empty. The halls dwindled of students and teachers alike, all eager to start the weekend.
The flash had come before Mr. Evans met him during lunch. So, maybe if he could touch the bones again with no one else around….
Eliot knew the lab might be locked; the fossils were worth a fortune. But when he twisted the stainless-steel knob, the door opened. He entered and called out for the teacher but received no response. The light from the eastern-facing bank of windows had paled, leaving the lab dim and lifeless.
He eased over to the desks still rife with bones both big and small. Eliot swore he could taste them in the air, as if the fossils had taken over the artificial miasma of the new building. He reached toward what looked like a foot bone, gnarled and knuckled. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and invited another episode.
"Back to grope your girlfriend, Elie?"
The voice was unmistakable, as was the chuckle of Bryan's friends. Eliot's blood chilled, and his legs felt instantly flimsy. His mouth dried, and he licked his lips. But as he stared down at the bones, bravery bolstered him, as if the ancient relic had infused him with power. His lips curled back, and he balled his fists. He imagined the crunch of Bryan's nose cartilage giving under his knuckles. Finally, he felt ready to face them. He turned.
The hit to his stomach came right away. It stole his breath, and the panic of suffocating overrode all else. He fought the urge to puke, riding the pain out.
"I got in-school suspension for having my phone out, you little prick," Bryan said.
Before Eliot could even raise his head, Bryan sent a boot to his stomach, forcing out what little air Eliot had sucked in. The pain coursed through him, as if the bully had stomped him all over.
"You should think about staying home," Bryan said. One of his toadies cackled like his leader had delivered the final punch line of a stand-up routine. Bryan squatted and leaned down to Eliot's level. "I'm serious, Elie. I don't want to see your face again. It makes me sick. So do whatever you have to." He grabbed Eliot's face and dug an angry thumb just under his eye socket, sending fresh waves of pain through him. "Say you're sick. Tell Mommy you'd rather kill yourself than come back here. Hell…." He dug his thumb deeper still, and Eliot wailed in agony. "Just go ahead and kill yourself. That's probably best. It'd be easier."
Bryan released him, and the pain tapered. Tears rolled down Eliot's face.
"It's okay, Elie," Bryan said. "You've still got your bone." Then he kicked him impossibly hard in the groin. The pain shot up from beneath and seized Eliot's stomach. He retched, but nothing came up. The dry heave seemed to last forever. The strain blurred his vision, and he teetered on passing out.
When he regained control, Bryan and his buddies were gone.
Eliot lay on the cool floor and cried for what felt like an hour. When he finally stood, the light had faded further. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked into the parking lot. He spotted his car —a beat-up Ford Escort he'd saved for during the better part of a year — and two others. When his breathing slowed, an eerie quiet crept in. He walked to the lab entrance and peaked out into the empty hallway. The only lights remaining came from the emergency boxes set at intervals just beneath the drop ceiling.
He walked back to the line of desks and the bones, but the power they'd given him vanished, replaced with an overwhelming despair that sapped his will even to touch them.
Eliot picked up his pack and headed for the door. Once in the hallway, he spotted movement farther down. A beam of light danced back and forth, landing and resting on each door. The sound of the knobs shaking preceded the silhouette of the security guard making his rounds.
Eliot swore to himself and ducked back into the lab. He'd done nothing wrong, but the thought of facing the guard and explaining himself only served to heighten his anxiety. Eliot had never encountered the guard personally, but stories preceded the mid-thirties officer: tales of unreported abuse, pepper spray malfunctions. No complaints didn't mean no injustice; Eliot knew that better than most. After all, Bryan's suspension was the first sign of his tyranny receiving any adult attention.
He ducked out of sight, crawling beneath a wraparound desk topped with a plastic model of the cat-sized Compsognathus dinosaur. So close to the floor, the myriad industrial smells seeped up, potent as perfume. At least he wouldn't dirty his pants; most floors in the school resembled a coffee-stained tabletop by now. Eliot knew, since he kept his head down as a rule. From his position, he could just make out the flashlight beam when the guard shined it on the classroom door. The light peeked in through the narrow window.
"Nothing to see here," Eliot whispered. "Go away."
His heart jumped when the officer turned the knob and opened the door. It stopped halfway open.
"What the hell?" the guard said. "Idiots," he mumbled and yanked the door closed. The following sound could only be the deadbolt sliding home. The knob shook, along with the door, but neither budged, and the light moved on.
Eliot waited several minutes before slinking out from beneath the desk. He listened for footsteps in the hall but heard nothing. He tried the doorknob. It gave only millimeters in each direction. Locked. In what remained of the light, Eliot examined the lock-plate. On his side, a keyhole stared back at him. No latch: only the port for a key he didn't have.
His breathing became shallow, and the air thickened with the stench of the new room. Eliot fiddled with a window, finally freeing all three latches. When he tugged on the pane, it created only a four-inch gap to the outside. He examined the fulcrum and, sure enough, it moved no farther. At least the mild breeze coming in cleared the stuffy air.
Eliot tried the door again. He began knocking on it, then banging, then yelling and banging. Sure, alerting the school officer required explaining himself, maybe even getting in trouble, but that beat the panic rising inside him at the thought of being trapped there.
He called out for several minutes, breaking to listen — ear to door — each time his lungs threatened to give out or his throat burned too fiercely to continue. Nothing. Not even footsteps.
"My phone," he said. Hope rushed through him like ice water on a hot day. He fumbled in the dim light, rifling through his bag, then shook his head. "Guess I can turn on every light in the place now," he said. He flipped the series of switches. The fluorescent bulbs tinkled, then bloomed with light.
In his bag sat the phone he'd bought last Black Friday, tiptoeing out of his tiny house long before the sun came up, waiting in line for hours, all to have a half-decent phone with what little money he'd saved.
Still, when he found it and pressed the wake button, the screen remained a mirrored black, revealing nothing more than his own, worried face.
"Come on," he said, his voice breaking. "I charged you last night for crying out loud." At least he thought he'd tethered it to the white charging cable dangling from the bathroom socket. He shared the bathroom with his mom, and only one of the two sockets worked. They remained in a constant battle between his charging phone and her hairdryer. Had she showered last night or this morning?
"It doesn't matter, you idiot," he said through clenched teeth. The phone was dead. Who would he call anyway? His mom spent every other weekend taking care of Eliot's ailing grandmother, and this was one such weekend. She always called each night to check on him but thought nothing of just leaving a voicemail.
As the remnants of light bid farewell outside, leaving the bay windows reflecting the classroom, Eliot searched Mr. Evans' desk for the key. The teacher had apparently used the transition between classrooms to pare down his files and supplies. Each drawer contained only a Spartan collection of things dropped in with little thought. The folders lay piled vertically, not yet sorted into their hanger files. The center drawer held only a few pencils, some loose change, and a ruler.
Eliot went to the window, cupped his hands around his eyes, and stared into the parking lot. His car sat alone save for a single other vehicle; it was parked near enough to the track that it might belong to a runner.
"It could be abandoned for all I know," he grumbled. Still, he stood by the plate of four light switches and turned them on and off several times in succession, checking the parking lot at interval. Still nothing.
In the reflection, he spotted a shape that made him jump. He whipped around, sucking in a breath. The dinosaur's skull stared from atop a desk. Had it been there before? Surely he would have noticed it, but, then again, he'd only looked at the bones from the other side of the room before Bryan and his goons attacked him.
It was really only the top half, looking to Eliot as if the creature were somehow swimming in the desks, only breaching the surface like a crocodile sliding up to oblivious prey on shore. The bottom half lay a yard away, the teeth between them, laid out at odd angles. Even so, their purpose shone clear. Those teeth had torn through flesh and bone, probably hundreds of times, felling creatures several times the beast's size without ego or judgment.
Eliot looked around, scouting the parking lot once more to ensure he was indeed alone. The school lay nestled in a broad forest, trees sequestering it from all else, a single access road leading in. He could well be the only person for miles around.
Eliot strode to the desks, holding out both hands like a surgeon after scrubbing up. He stood over the top half of the skull, peering down into the vacuous eyes, dark despite the shining tan surface of the desktop. Eliot brought his hands down onto the skull, holding his breath as if about to latch onto an electric fence, bracing for pain. The moment his flesh curved around the ancient bones, the earlier sensation returned. All day he'd convinced himself of its power, but he'd forgotten its subtlety. He still stood in the modern-day classroom, but a part of him — of his senses — slipped back millions of years into the soul of a mighty hunter, small but ferocious. Only this time the hunter felt him as well. It linked to the present, pulled from a world billions of days before mankind.
The soul of the hunter communicated without words, only sensations. And yet they swirled and collected into a single, harmonizing intention. The hunter avoided layers of benign courtesy and respect, just as a shark — unchanged through the ages — no sooner contemplated human flesh than it did the countless other species it tasted.
The hunter's will solidified and spiked into Eliot's mind as neatly as an ax's wedge cleaves wood. He fell back, hands leaving the skull and moving behind him just in time to break his fall. He sucked in breath as if he'd been submerged in water for a full minute. He surfaced a new creature, born of a bond between he and the hunter. The invisible thread connecting them traversed years as effortlessly as it did species. The hunter's bargain sent the corners of Eliot's lips curving into a smile. His end lay clearly before him, in the bone puzzle waiting to be solved.
Eliot experienced no more flashes, despite touching the bones over and over. None were necessary; he had received the message and needed only to act on his end of the deal. He had built his share of models over the years. One of the few things he ever received from his father was a collection of unopened model cars and planes; he had left them, along with everything else, when Eliot was three.
For years, Eliot worked on the models: at first with shy, inexperienced hands, and later with delicate skill. In the beginning, he did so believing that his father might return, that the models, constructed with such care, would entice him to stay.
By puberty, Eliot knew his dad would never return; but he built the models anyway. By that time, and in the years after, doing so no longer provided him with hope or connected him with his estranged father. Instead, it gave him a way to make himself better than the man who abandoned his own wife and son. The boy finished, even perfected, what his father had failed to do.
Constructing the model of an ancient predator would surely prove no more difficult. Alas, despite the detailed instructions and ample tools, the execution challenged Eliot's patience like nothing he'd ever worked on.
With models, the size acted as both advantage and drawback. Sure, you had to spend hours in painstaking detail. But the size hid the process itself. Which parts were once separate and which already conjoined? Where did the epoxy end and the snaps begin? A good craftsman – and Eliot indeed qualified – used the small size to cloak his work.
With the bones, however, the opposite held true. Eliot had all the room he could ask for when binding the pieces with the thin copper wire and the special adhesive. But the construct betrayed him over and over. The tools of the hunter's rebirth shone amid the bones, begging onlookers to scoff at it, to maintain their disbelief that this was ever a creature worthy of respect and fear. No, the binds had to disappear. The illusion remained vital to the bargain.
He worked long into the night, taking periodic breaks to stare out at his car. His vision blurred, and his aching fingers stumbled, but he had only completed a single foot. Exhausted, he collected the dust covers from the dozen microscopes and lined the hard floor with them. He used his backpack as a pillow, lay down, and fell instantly to sleep.
In a dream, he crossed an open field with high grass wet from dew. His feet were bare, and as he walked, he grew colder, and his clothes soaked through. A snarl interrupted the quiet, and he turned to see the bones pursuing him. Not the dinosaur itself, but the animated fossils sprinted across the field. He turned to flee but made it only a dozen feet before the hunter fell upon him. Claws tore at his back, holding him in place. The skull the size of a cow's leaned closer. Through the fog of pain, he could still smell the beast's breath. It reeked of decay and dust. It hovered over him, inches from his face, teeth brushing and catching on his skin lightly enough to leave the paper-thin flesh intact.
"What do you want from me?" Eliot cried. The grass had left him wet, and yet tears moistened his face anew. "I'm doing what you wanted. I'm doing the best I can."
The hunter leaned into him, the pressure on his face remnant of Bryan's biting thumb the day before, only infinitely more serious.
"I'll do it," Eliot moaned. "I swear I'll do it. I just need time. Please."
The hunter pulled back, and Eliot turned to face it in full. The tableau echoed the skeletal dioramas of the exhibits he'd seen before, but where those remained as lifeless as the beasts to which they paid tribute, the hunter hovering over him radiated an unmistakable vitality. Though it seemed impossible, the hunter arched its deadly teeth into an awful smile.
Eliot woke sore and disoriented. Early sunlight seeped from the bay windows, illuminating his meager progress: a single foot that, in the light of day, lacked the exactitude he thought he'd reached the night before. He recalled with clarity the beast standing over him, the tacit threat implied in that toothy grin. He hurled the foot across the room and into the stone wall, where it flew to pieces that chittered on the floor.
"I can do better," he said and set his jaw.
Thankfully the lab held several taps that poured into deep basins, so water presented no issue. Even after sating his thirst, hunger nibbled at Eliot's stomach. He ignored it, even slapping his gut when the gurgles sounded, as if training a dog not to beg. He again rummaged through Mr. Evans' desk, more closely this time, finding two granola bars stuffed between the folders. In his pack, he discovered gum and an energy drink. He imagined the hunter's life, where every calorie fought till its dying breath to keep from entering its bowels. This bolstered Eliot's resolve, despite the prospect of an entire weekend with no more calories than those contained in a single meal.
"Finish early," he said aloud, as if making a pact with himself, "and I'll break a window to get home." Erecting the bone display would surely outweigh the trouble breaking a window might put him in.
The day stretched out, as if larded with hours that never existed before. Eliot tried to pull his eyes away from the large clock hanging on the wall.
"This day will never end," he said. His self-pity swelled for the dozenth time, but he choked it back. He pulled the clock from the wall and returned to work.
The construction grew easier by fractions. He consulted the instructions less. He decreased his reliance on the adhesive and exposed the copper bindings fewer times with each bone he knitted. When he lay down to sleep that night, his fingers shone pink and raw, his vision blurry and head pounding from the intense focus the work required. Despite the hunter's image that flashed across his mind's eye when he killed the lights, he fell asleep in seconds.
He returned to the field of high grass, the wet blades swaying in the wind, licking his clothes. He turned and recoiled when he saw a large house on a hill, sure that it hadn't been there the previous night. The place rang familiar. Lights burned upstairs and down, though no one passed in front of the windows or walked the perimeter. A snarl split the night air, and the hunter crested a copse of trees set behind the house. It eased low to the ground, raising only its head to whiff the cool air, growling at whatever scent it picked up.
Eliot suddenly remembered from where he knew the house. Even in profile, he recognized the ornate front porch from his junior yearbook, the caption: "The King Preparing to Dance with His Subjects" coming to mind. He knew the unmistakable gleam of Bryan Pagan's cherry red Trans Am beneath the street lamp.
Eliot woke on Sunday to a blend of hope and despair. The end of his work loomed in sight. He'd sectioned the dinosaur into legs, tail, torso, and head. Each appeared well within reach. But his body threatened revolt. His stomach knotted with hunger pangs, but he had already eaten what scant food he'd rummaged. Filling his stomach with water failed to help. His fingers, raw the night before, now felt like blood-filled sausages. Merely flexing the digits sent shards of pain up to his elbows. His headache only grew more intense instead of abating.
Then he remembered that house on the hill and the promise the hunter made as he lingered, waiting in the liminal space between forest and home, between wild nature and insipid civilization.
One more search of the lab revealed a tiny tube of aspirin which Eliot had mistaken for Chapstick before. He chewed the four remaining tablets, the bitterness near unbearable but still oddly satisfying. Eventually he could move his fingers, and the pain behind his eyes tapered. He returned to work.
Several times he teetered on completion, but then a section fell from the body or a rib snapped from the delicate adhesive and the finish line pulled a little farther away. By the time the light began to fade, Eliot gave up all hope of an early finish. He resigned himself to working into the night and even tried to appreciate the inevitability of it. What could he do but wait till school began anyway?
When he finished, and the beast stood before him, complete and glorious, he rehung the wall clock. It read 2:00 AM. He'd guessed ten and laughed at his inept estimate. It didn't matter anymore. Before him stood the most important thing he had ever built. He turned off the fluorescents and fired only the three LED bulbs that lit the plinth from beneath. The effect was immediate and wonderful; the ancient predator came alive in those bones, and now everyone would see it, even if it were confined to a high school.
He moved the microscope bags and his makeshift pillow in front of the plinth. The pain in his joints and back demanded more aspirin and cried out for a bed not carved from stone. His fingers formed a hodgepodge of open sores now, so stiff and raw he could only place them on his stomach and let the pain throb. Even so, as he stared up at the hunter, he smiled. His eyes shut without permission, and sleep again took him.
No longer spectating, Eliot slid into the dream-space, directly inside the hunter. He watched in first-person as the ancient beast moved from the forest into the open, manicured lawn behind Bryan's house. The hunter skirted the borders of light cast by the street lamps, slinking from shadow to shadow with a fluidity only a natural predator could manage. No shrieking this time: it moved past the small basketball court, up onto the raised porch, its deadly claws ticking on the stained wood. It moved to the glass patio door, where thick Venetian blinds lay at forty-five degree angles, revealing the den beyond.
Inside, Bryan and his two cronies smoked a bowl in dim candlelight, their muted giggles silent through the double-paned glass.
The hunter nudged the glass like a dog sniffing out possible food, resulting in a series of dry taps as the bones struck the surface. The hunter moved perpendicular to the blind's open angle, hiding itself from the trio inside, waiting. Eliot's heart thumped in his head. He couldn't hear his breathing, but he sensed the air moving in and out of him faster. A swirl of emotions churned in his gut, transmitted from where his body lay in the lab to Bryan's home in the upscale community far from Eliot's single-floor cottage.
Shapes shifted behind the blinds; voices shushed and mumbled. A latch slid open, and the glass door rode its track, opening Bryan's home to the night air.
"What's that smell?" Bryan said. One of his friends only cackled in reply. He ventured further onto the porch, squinting into the darkness.
"What is it, man?" one of his toadies asked behind him.
The hunter revealed itself from the shadows, sending Bryan against the side of the house, standing on his tip-toes to distance himself from the living nightmare. His eyes widened, and his hands curled into fists. He sucked in a breath with a high-pitched, whining sound. The bones in the beast's skull shifted, and Eliot knew it had offered the same terrible smile it showed him in his dreams.
Bryan's jaw quivered, and he shook his head in tight jerks, back and forth. Then his muscles relaxed slightly, his lips moving from fearful sneer to drooping frown. He tilted his head to the side, like a dog discovering some oddity. "Eli—," he said, but the hunter cut him off, jaws refined by evolution doing the only thing they were designed to do: rend flesh.
Eliot woke to the doorknob shaking. A muffled voice sounded on the other side. He tried to sit up, but the weekend left him so feeble that his body refused to cooperate. He breathed in, held it, and rolled onto an elbow when someone keyed the lock and opened the door.
He turned to see Mr. Evans balancing a cup of coffee in one hand, a key ring and the handle of his briefcase occupying the other. He held a book beneath his chin. When the teacher looked up, all of them fell to the floor. The coffee made a wet squish as the flimsy, paper cup erupted its steaming contents onto the tile. It pooled beneath Mr. Evans' bag, soaking the book. The teacher didn't seem to care.
"Oh my god," he said. "Eliot, what… what's going on here?"
Eliot took several seconds to rise to his feet, his legs shaky. His hands were so swollen and sore that they were just wads of flesh dangling from his arms. He held them protectively at his mid-section. Still, he couldn't resist smiling. He even let out a small laugh and indicated the plinth with a tilt of his head. "I finished the dinosaur, Mr. Evans." His shoulders rolled forward, his body threatening to buckle. "I… got locked inside the classroom over the weekend, so I finished her. Well, him, actually."
The teacher surveyed the room as if seeing it anew. Confusion knit his brow and his lips protruded, hovering on the verge of speech.
"It's okay," Eliot said. "I'm not mad; I'm all right. I just got locked inside, so I figured instead of sitting here all weekend—"
"It doesn't work that way!" the teacher yelled.
Eliot recoiled. He'd never heard Mr. Evans raise his voice. "I know that, sir. I'm sorry. I just figured since I was here—"
"The lock, Eliot," the teacher broke in. "The lock doesn't work that way." He stepped through the pool of coffee and yanked the open door toward him. He pointed to the lock-plate on the classroom side, and the impossible happened.
"It wasn't like that," Eliot stammered. "It was another keyhole. There was nothing I could do." Eliot continued to stare in disbelief at the vertical latch on the door, the kind used to toggle the deadbolt.
"This is a school, Eliot," the teacher hissed. "You can't be locked in, for Christ's sake."
"Sir, I don't know what's happening here."
"And what in the name of God gives you the right to mess with these fossils? Do you have any idea how much they're worth? How much trouble I — the whole school — would be in if you broke any?"
"But I didn't," he whined. Unbidden tears erupted. "Look at it. I did it just like the instructions said. It's perfect, I swear."
The teacher breathed in and out audibly and seemed to calm. He looked over the dinosaur bones for several seconds, first from afar, then from up close. "Eliot, I'm not sure what to make of this. I have to notify the principal, your mom. Jesus, Eliot." He shook his head but continued to stare at the bones. "Well, I know just enough about displays to get myself into trouble, but from where I'm standing it looks amazing. How the hell you did it…."
"You like it?"
The teacher turned back to Eliot, sighed, and nodded. "It's fine work, but this behavior… It's insane, Eliot. You could get me or the night guard fired just for not knowing you were in here."
"I won't say anything," Eliot pleaded. "I thought I was locked in. It's my mistake."
Mr. Evans sighed again and returned to the bones. "Amazing. I'm just curious about the posture. Christ, Eliot, you'd think it's stalking prey the way you staged it."
Eliot squinted. "That's what I was going for," he said, thinking of the hunter executing Bryan and his toadies with surgical precision. "You don't like it?"
The teacher laughed. "Again, it's amazing. But it's not exactly accurate, bud."
Heat washed over Eliot, his body threatening collapse. He walked to a lab stool and sat. "I don't understand."
"Pachycephalosaurus, Eliot. It's a plant-eater, not a predator. The only thing this guy's creeping up on is a nice, dewy leaf," he laughed. "Just look at the teeth," he said, pointing.
Eliot really looked at the bones for the first time that morning. Sunlight overtook the ominous underglow of the LEDs. In that wash of yellow, the bones held none of the malice they had over the weekend. The eyes were just holes, the teeth blunted nubs, the claws short and utilitarian, meant only to anchor and grip the earth, not tear open prey.
"That's not… it changed, Mr. Evans. I swear it was…." A deluge of memories from the last two nights flooded him, overwriting the ones he knew to be true until that moment: memories of an open field, a copse of trees, and a home. The images flickered past, amending his memory like a computer downloading updates. "No," he whined. "That's not what happened."
"Eliot, are you all right?" the teacher asked.
"I didn't… it wasn't me."
"Jesus, Eliot, calm down. Take it… Eliot, why are your hands bloody?"
"I was working with the bones. I worked so hard on them."
"No, bud, they're bloody. Look at them."
Eliot shook uncontrollably, his vision blurring with tears. He looked down at his ruined hands, solidifying what he already knew. He was the only killer in that room.
🔔 More stories from author: Darren Todd
More Stories from Author Darren Todd:
Dark Shadows Rising
The Death Song of Ghost and Crow
The Woman on Sticks
A Half-Hour of Hell

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


The new owner of Younkers, Herberger's and various other department stores, is hinting they might be reopening some of their brick-and-mortar stores across the country. So, does that mean the Sioux Falls Younkers will be reopening? That's the big question being asked around town.
CSC Generations Holdings Incorporated acquired the retail chain and immediately announced it's re-activating all its store names: Bergner's, Boston Store, Carson's, Elder Beerman, Herberger's and Younkers. They're also said to be rehiring some of the former employees and in talks to reopen some of their stores.
Jordan Voloshin, Co-President of CSC Generation, in a news release had this to say. "Over the last 120 years, Bon-Ton (the former owner of the chain of stores) has touched the lives of tens of millions of Americans, and we couldn't be more excited by the opportunity to continue the company's legacy."
CSC Generation says currently they're in "advanced discussions" with landlords to reopen stores in Colorado, Illinois, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania. At this time, however, there's no mention of reopening any South Dakota stores.
Keep your fingers crossed - it could still happen!


Then in 1863, he created a baked 'dry' powder that was perfumed with a delicate rose scent, which was made accessible not only to actresses but all women in decorated cardboard boxes (which I think I would like better) The blusher was dry-baked in a dry room in the Bourjois factory in Pantim, a suburb in Paris.
However, the dry baked blushers were given names to describe their colors until 1879, one of the first being 'Rosette Brune' Can you believe this classic shade still exists today??? It's now called 'Cendre de Rose Brune' (3rd in the pics below) I didn't know! Otherwise I would've bought it without a second thought!
There are matte and shimmery with golden flecks Bourjois blushes. The ones with gold shimmer are all the ones with the word "d'or" at the end. 'D'or' means 'golden' in French.
Here are 15 shades of the blushes available in India. ENJOY!
With Lune d'or it was love at first sight. It is so gorgeous! It would work as a blush or a highlighter.
how much does this blush cost???
I got my hubby to get me Lilas 33 after reading yr dupe report to cheer me up through the illness.. & boy is it pretty!
ooohhh...love the shades. will pick up one next week.
Hey Cyntheia i know I am little late to ask .... but do u have any idea where to get Bourjois in Noida .
OOOO..This is sooo cool..I'm a fashion history addict..You so have to check out Maybelline's history-invented mascara..and Max Factor (invented foundation, the term 'make-up' and lip gloss) as well..
Hey cynthia , I wanna know what shade exactly is the 4th from left , brun cuivre or not ?? Coz , i like it alot .
Akriti- Hi...thank u so much! Yes, I'm almost positive it's Brun Cuivre after googling it too.
Where do you buy in the usa the bourjois blusher?


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BGN Film: 5 Comic Facts to Consider about 'Ant-man and the Wasp'
Our third favorite snarky Marvel hero, Ant-man (Deadpool and Spiderman are first and second), returned this weekend in Ant-man and the Wasp. This time, Ant-man (played by Paul Rudd) Scott Lang, is the ex-con trying hard to go straight, but the Hank (Michael Douglas) and Hope (Evangeline Lily) Pym won't let him. They need Scott to do something dangerous, something that almost killed him last time. The whole comedic cast of characters—TI, David Dastmalchian and Michael Peña return as Lang's cohorts. Peña takes several opportunities to steal the show. (I'll tell you more about that in my review.) We also meet a few new faces—Bill Foster, played by Lawrence Fishburne and Ghost played by Hannah John-Kamen. Although the movie is entertaining and fairly easy to comprehend, there are a few inside details that are only revealed in the comics.
Whether you are wanting to impress a date or one-up a fan bro in a Twitter "well actually" battle, you should take a moment to read these five (5) important facts about Ant-man and the Wasp that are only in the comics. These facts are followed by a little perspective on the positioning of the new characters in the film in history and on pop culture today.
Henry Pym's Goliath was a regular on the Avengers
The name is thrown around by Hank and Bill Foster when they meet up. The comics reveal that Goliath was the name Hank Pym took for a while when the suit's tech wouldn't let him get any smaller than 10 feet tall. He fought as Goliath for the Avengers before moving on to other ventures, and storylines.
Black Goliath. The incident that created Hank's Goliath also led to Bill Foster's stint as the superhero. Foster was Black Goliath, a Black man who fought alongside Ant-man and the Avengers. Foster's story dates all the way back to 1966! However, Black Goliath didn't debut until 1975 in a Luke Cage, Powerman Black Goliath would later get his own self-titled comics. He was also a part of the West Coast Avengers.
Ghost in the comics is actually a character from another comic–Ironman. It seems that the MCU borrowed the character for this movie. In the Ironman comics, Ghost was a nemesis of Tony Stark who often worked to steal, destroy, and disrupt Stark's tech. Ghost had some nefarious projects of his own, but he kept Ironman and the Avengers busy.
Ghost Courtesy Marvel Universe Wiki
Notice the pronoun I use for Ghost in the Marvel comics? That's because Ghost was a White man named John Morley who first appeared in Ironman comics in the late 1980s. With Ant-man and the Wasp, the MCU has redefined ghost as a biracial woman named Ava Starr who wears a similar uniform to the Ghost in the comics.
Antman in Avengers: Infinity War. As you all should know by now, there is more to MCU films than what appears between the opening title and end credits. The MCU is notorious for sending clues to the next movie in the series or for connecting the characters to the rest of the Avengers. Stay seated during the credits to find out how our hero Ant-man links to the events in Avengers: Infinity War.
Some Additional Food for Thought
Bill Foster's Goliath circa 1976
The new characters alone are significant additions to the MCU. Black Goliath was an influence alongside Luke Cage and Black Panther in the 1970s—the heyday of Black Marvel superheroes. Bill Foster's appearance in 1966 was revolutionary in that he was an educated Black man working in a STEM career. This was during a time when Black people were fighting for the right to be seen and treated as fellow humans. He was a smart Black scientist, the colleague of Ant-man, and an advisor to the Avengers during the Civil Rights Movement. Just think about that for a moment.
Ghost's depiction as a biracial woman is also a cultural milestone. Ava Starr is a smart, government-trained assassin who is also a scientist. She is basically an evil Ironman. Ava's Ghost is a role model for Black girls and her biracial identity actually makes her character like a metaphor for the treatment of girls of color in STEM careers. The number of girls of color in STEM are growing, but they are still having problems with advancement. There is also still sexism and racism being reported in their workspaces. Like Ghost, the ground they occupy in STEM fields is fleeting, unstable, and in need of a White woman's touch sometimes to give their work substance.
Get in line to watch Ant-man and the Wasp, in theaters everywhere.
Andra Day Blows us Away in 'The United States vs Billie Holiday'
Jonita Davis July 8, 2018
PODCAST: Phase 4 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe
Avengers: How Marvel Masterfully Integrated The Comic Book Universe with the Cinematic Universe
Year-End Trailers to Watch: 'Godzilla,' Superman Horror Film 'Brightburn,' and More
Breaking: Stan Lee, the Man Who Gave Us Black Panther, Dies at 95


As consumers, we expect products on store shelves to be safe. Yet, dangerous and defective toys alone caused an estimated 251,800 child injuries in 2014, according to the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission.
Through product liability lawsuits, injury victims and their families can hold companies accountable and seek compensation for their losses. To increase the likelihood of achieving full recovery, plaintiffs can pursue legal action against all of the parties in the chain of distribution, including the manufacturer, distributor and retailer.
Manufacturers: Responsible parties may not only include the company that physically made the defective product, but also design consultants, quality control engineers, parts suppliers and other entities that participated in how the product was made, designed or labeled.
Distributors: Several companies often play a part in getting the product from the manufacturer to the seller. Under the doctrine of strict liability, they can be named as defendants simply by virtue of their participation in the supply chain.
Retailers: Plaintiffs can even hold "innocent sellers" liable for injuries caused by defective products. The plaintiff also does not have to be the person that made the actual purchase, such as when the product was a gift.
Under the doctrine of joint and several liability, defendants can be held either individually or mutually responsible for any judgment rendered if they all contributed to the plaintiff's injuries. That means that the plaintiff can collect from whomever is able to pay. For instance, if one defendant is not able to pay its share of the judgment, the other defendants must essentially "pick up the tab." The plaintiff can also recover the entire judgment from just one defendant.
If you or someone you care about has suffered serious harm due to a dangerous product, don't hesitate to contact a San Diego injury lawyer at the Law Offices of Robert Vaage for a free consultation. Our legal team has successfully represented clients against manufacturers and distributors for more than 30 years.


Folsom Lake College's student government curriculum is designed for students interested in developing their leadership skills and participating in planning and organizing college activities. They are open to all students. Student government is a pathway to participating in the Associated Students of Folsom Lake College (ASFLC) organization representing the student body.
Students who enroll in SGVT 300 are voting members of either the ASFLC Student Senate or Club and Events Board (CAEB). They will also have the opportunity to serve on a variety of college committees and attend leadership conferences.
Develop leadership skills by working with student activities, clubs, and the ASFLC.
Represent the student voice to the college and community.
Attend leadership conferences and workshops.
Participate on college committees to help develop and determine policy as it relates to student issues.
This class provides a study of the legal, educational and philosophical basis of student government. The course may include travel to other campuses, area conferences and state conferences and provides the opportunity to participate on faculty and administrative committees. Topics are designed to teach leadership skills and to give practical experience in the field of student government.
recommend appropriate advocacy strategies using acquired knowledge of Title V,Parliamentary Procedure, committee structures and campus resources.
evaluate and develop effective leadership skills which may include delegating, problem solving, critical thinking, effective meeting planning, time management and budgeting.
assess interpersonal skills which may include goal setting, stress management, motivation, oral and written communication skills, active listening, group participation and diversity awareness.
The Associated Students of Folsom Lake College (ASFLC) is committed to creating a unique and inviting college atmosphere by facilitating opportunities for students to socialize, join clubs, volunteer, and much more.


text:
Q: Adding records to a drop down menu without form refresh I want to add records to a drop down menu without form refresh. I'm using codeigniter and bootstrap
Here is the Bootstrap Modal :

            <button aria-hidden="true" data-dismiss="modal" class="close" type="button">×</button>

Add Record

            <form class="sky-form" id="sky-inchidere" method="post" accept-charset="utf-8" action="">

Name*

                                    <input type="text" value="" name="name" required>
                                    Add New Record

                <button type="submit" class="btn-u" style="float:right; margin-top:-5px;">Submit</button>
            </form>

Ajax script :
$(document).ready(function(){

$("#sky-inchidere").submit(function(e){
    e.preventDefault();
    var tdata= $("#sky-inchidere").serializeArray();
    $.ajax({
        type: "POST",
        url: 'http://localhost/new/oportunitati/add',
        data: tdata,

        success:function(tdata)
        {
            alert('SUCCESS!!');
        },
        error: function (XHR, status, response) {
           alert('fail');
        }
    });
});
});

CI Controller ( i have added the modal code here for test )
public function add()   {
    $tdata = array( name=>  $this->input->post(name),
                   );
    $this->db->insert('table',$tdata);
}

When i use this code i get "fail" error message.
Thanks for your time.

A: how yo debug:
1. Print your 'tdata' and see what happen;
2. Something wrong here: $this->input->post('name');

A: Try to use:
$tdata = array(
    'name' =>  $this->input->post('name')
);

A: I manage to find the problem and correct it. (typo on the table name)
Now I have come across a different problem. In the ajax success I cant refresh the chosen dropdown records i have tried :
       success:function(tdata)
       {
           // close the modal
           $('#myModal').modal('hide');

           // update dropdown ??
           $('.chosen-select').trigger('liszt:updated');
           $('#field-beneficiar_p').trigger('chosen:updated');
           $('#field-beneficiar_p').trigger('liszt:updated');
       },

Any help in how i can refresh the records to see the last added item will be appreciated.  I'm using chosen plugin.

A: from controller send data in json_encode
then in js function
$.ajax({
                    type: "POST",
                    url: "<?php echo base_url('login/get_time'); ?>",
                    data: {"consltant_name": consltant_name, "time": time},
                    success: function(data) {
                        var data = JSON.parse(data);
                        var options = '';
                        options = options + '<option value="">Please Select One</option>'
                        $.each(data, function(i, item) {
                            options = options + '<option value="' + item + '">' + item + '</option>'
                        });
                        selectbox.html(options);
                    }});

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


V1.95 KTMOBD Car ECU Programmer is KTM OBD with Dialink J2534 Cable Update Version. 2019 KTM OBD ECU Programmer With KTMOBD Software And USB Dongle. 2019 KTMOBD KTM OBD V1.95 ECU Programmer & Gearbox Power Upgrade Tool can Read the chip data, read and write ECU data, read gearbox data etc at a high speed.


text:
View source for Imagawa Ujichika
← Imagawa Ujichika
The action you have requested is limited to users in one of the groups: Administrators, contributor.
* ''Born: [[1473]]'' * ''Died: [[1526]]'' Ujichika was the son of [[Imagawa Yoshitada]]. In [[1476]] Yoshitada invaded [[Totomi province|Tôtômi Province]] and defeated the [[Katsumada clan|Katsumada]] and [[Yokota clan|Yokota clans]]. On the return to [[Suruga province|Suruga]], however, he was waylaid at Shiokaizaka and was attacked and killed by the remnants of the two families he had just defeated. A succession dispute between supporters of Yoshichika's infant son Tatsuomaru (Ujichika) and his cousin [[Oshika Shingoro Norimitsu|Oshika Shingorô Norimitsu]] developed. Ôgigayatsu – [[Uesugi Sadamasa]] and the so-called Horigoe Kubô ([[Ashikaga Masatomo]]) both became involved, and the [[Imagawa clan|Imagawa]] found themselves standing at a crossroads. Ise Shinkûrô (the future [[Hojo Soun|Hôjô Sôun]]) proposed that until Ujichika has his coming of age ceremony, Oshika Norimitsu act as a regent in his name. This averted armed conflict within the Imagawa, at least temporarily. However, when Ujichika turned 17, Norimitsu would not turn over control of the imagawa clan to him, and hostilities resumed. Shinkûrô attacked Norimitsu's mansion on Ujichika's behalf and once Norimatsu was defeated, Ujichika assumed his position as head of the clan. He gave asylum to Ashikaga Yoshizumi after the latter fled Kyoto in [[1491]] and afterwards escorted him back. A capable leader, he spent much time campaigning in [[Totomi province|Tôtômi]] and [[Mikawa province|Mikawa]], strengthening the position of the Imagawa on the Tokai Coast. He died of illness in [[1526]] and was succeeded by his eldest son Ujiteru. Ujichika is remembered for sending three of his six sons to various temples to become monks and for building [[Nagoya castle|Nagoya Castle]] in [[Owari province|Owari]] in [[1525]] - both of which were considered somewhat unusual - the latter because the Imagawa had only the most tenuous of holds over Owari Province. He composed the Imagawa house code, the Imagawa Kana Mokuroku, in [[1526]]. Clauses included such stipulations as the punishment for unlawful entry of another's residence (article 7), the imposition of capital punishment in violent quarrels between retainers (article 8), the accountability of the parents of children (of retainers) involved in fights (article 11), regulations concerning the private sale and leasing of land (articles 13-15), debt repayment (article 17), and forbidding retainers of the Imagawa to arrange marriages with houses outside the Imagawa domain (article 30). Ujichika's sons included Ujiteru (d.[[1536]]), Hikogoro (d.[[1536]]), Yoshizane, Yoshimoto, and Ujitoyo. [[Category:Samurai]]
Return to Imagawa Ujichika.
Retrieved from "http://samurai-archives.com/wiki/Imagawa_Ujichika"


text:
Strona głównaKsiążki w języku angielskimhistoriaNeighbours Jan T. Gross
Zobacz koszyk "Soshana. Kolekcjonerka światów w.polsko-angielska" został dodany do koszyka.
Neighbours Jan T. Gross
historia, Książki w języku angielskim
One summer day in 1941, half of the Polish town of Jedwabne murdered the other half, 1,600 men, women, and children, all but seven of the town's Jews. Neighbors tells their story.This is a shocking, brutal story that has never before been told. It is the most important study of Polish-Jewish relations to be published in decades and should become a classic of Holocaust literature.Jan Gross pieces together eyewitness accounts and other evidence into an engulfing reconstruction of the horrific July day remembered well by locals but forgotten by history. His investigation reads like a detective story, and its unfolding yields wider truths about Jewish-Polish relations, the Holocaust, and human responses to occupation and totalitarianism. It is a story of surprises: The newly occupying German army did not compel the massacre, and Jedwabne's Jews and Christians had previously enjoyed cordial relations. After the war, the nearby family who saved Jedwabne's surviving Jews was derided and driven from the area. The single Jew offered mercy by the town declined it. Most arresting is the sinking realization that Jedwabne's Jews were clubbed, drowned, gutted, and burned not by faceless Nazis, but by people whose features and names they knew well: their former schoolmates and those who sold them food, bought their milk, and chatted with them in the street. As much as such a question can ever be answered, Neighbors tells us why.In many ways, this is a simple book. It is easy to read in a single sitting, and hard not to. But its simplicity is deceptive. Gross's new and persuasive answers to vexed questions rewrite the history of twentieth-century Poland. This book proves, finally, that the fates of Poles and Jews during World War II can be comprehended.
Carved Wooden Torah Arks of Eastern Europe Bracha Yaniv
Auschwitz. A History Sybille Steinbacher
European Jewry in the Age of Mercantilism Jonathan I. Israel
Insiders and Outsiders. Dilemmas of East European Jewry Editors: Richard I. Cohen, Jonathan Frankel & Stefani Hoffman


text:
Australian Open (wym. ; do 1926 Australasian Championships, do 1968 Australian Championships), Wielki Szlem Azji i Pacyfiku – międzynarodowe tenisowe mistrzostwa Australii, pierwszy z czterech turniejów zaliczanych do Wielkiego Szlema, rozgrywane od 1905 roku. Odbywają się corocznie w drugiej połowie stycznia na kortach Melbourne Park w Melbourne.

Od pierwszej edycji aż do 1987 roku turniej odbywał się na kortach trawiastych, w 1988 dokonano zmiany nawierzchni na korty twarde. Mats Wilander to jedyny tenisista, który zwyciężył w turniejach na obu nawierzchniach.

Podobnie jak podczas pozostałych turniejów Wielkiego Szlema, rozgrywane są turnieje singlowe i deblowe kobiet i mężczyzn, turniej miksta, turnieje zawodników na wózkach oraz zawody juniorskie i turnieje z udziałem dawnych czempionów.

Trzy główne korty podczas Australian Open to Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne Arena i Margaret Court Arena. Posiadają one rozsuwane dachy, które zamykane są w wypadku wystąpienia opadów deszczu lub ekstremalnych upałów.

Rozgrywane w środku australijskiego lata, Australian Open znane jest z niezwykle gorących i dusznych dni. Gdy temperatura oraz wilgotność osiągają niebezpieczne dla graczy poziomy, wprowadza się w życie specjalnie przygotowaną na takie warunki politykę, która umożliwia sędziom tymczasowe przerwanie pojedynków i wznowienie ich, gdy warunki się poprawią.

Tenisowe Mistrzostwa Australii w 2009 roku osiągnęły największą jednodniową frekwencję w historii Wielkiego Szlema przyciągając 66 018 widzów. Turniej przyniósł australijskiej gospodarce zysk w wysokości 38 milionów dolarów australijskich.

W 2008 roku nawierzchnię Rebound Ace, na której rozgrywano mecze od 1988, zastąpiono nową, akrylową o nazwie Plexicushion Prestige. Według standardów ITF, nowa nawierzchnia należała do kategorii o średniej szybkości. Zmianie tej towarzyszyły równoczesne zmiany nawierzchni turniejów poprzedzających Australian Open. W 2020 roku nawierzchnia ta została zastąpiona przez GreenSet.

W 2023 roku w grze pojedynczej mężczyzn Novak Đoković zdobył trofeum, pokonując w finale 6:3, 7:6(4), 7:6(5) Stefanosa Tsitsipasa. W grze pojedynczej kobiet Aryna Sabalenka triumfowała nad Jeleną Rybakiną, uzyskując w meczu finałowym wynik 4:6, 6:3, 6:4. W deblu mężczyzn tytuł zdobyli Rinky Hijikata i Jason Kubler, którzy triumfowali w finale 6:4, 7:6(4) nad parą Hugo Nys–Jan Zieliński. W grze podwójnej kobiet zwyciężyły Barbora Krejčíková i Kateřina Siniaková, które w finale pokonały Shūko Aoyamę i Enę Shibaharę 6:4, 6:3. W grze mieszanej Luisa Stefani oraz Rafael Matos pokonali w meczu o mistrzostwo Sanię Mirzę wraz z Rohanem Bopanną 7:6(2), 6:2.

Historia
Australian Open jest organizowane przez Tennis Australia, dawniej Australijski Związek Tenisa na Trawie (LTAA). Pierwsza edycja została rozegrana w 1905 w Warehouseman's Cricket Ground przy St Kilda Road w Melbourne w 1905 roku. Obecnie to miejsce znane jest pod nazwą Albert Reserve Tennis Centre.

Początkowo turniej rozgrywano pod nazwą Mistrzostw Australazji (The Australasian Championships), w 1927 został przemianowany na Mistrzostwa Australii (The Australian Championships), a od 1969 odbywa się pod nazwą Australian Open. Od 1905 roku turniej rozgrywano w siedmiu miastach: australijskich Melbourne (53 razy), Sydney (17), Adelaide (14), Brisbane (8), Perth (3) oraz nowozelandzkich Christchurch (w 1906) i Hastings (w 1912). W 1972 podjęto decyzję o rozgrywaniu AO w tym mieście każdego kolejnego roku, co spowodowało przyznanie organizacji Kooyong Lawn Tennis Club mającemu siedzibę w Melbourne, ponieważ właśnie to miasto przyciągało najwięcej sponsorów.

Obiekt w Melbourne Park (dawniej Flinders Park) został zbudowany na edycję w roku 1988, aby zaspokoić wymagania szybko rozwijającego się turnieju co do liczby miejsc dla widzów, które przerosły pojemność obiektu Kooyong. Przenosiny do Melbourne Park okazały się natychmiastowym sukcesem – z 90 procentowym wzrostem liczby widzów w roku 1988 (266 436) w porównaniu do ostatniej edycji w Kooyong (w 1987 r. pojawiło się 140 000 kibiców).

Ze względu na geograficzną odległość Antypodów przez pierwsze lata w turnieju brali udział niemal wyłącznie Australijczycy i Nowozelandczycy. W latach 20. XX w. podróż statkiem z Europy do Australii zajmowała ok. 45 dni. Pierwszymi tenisistami, którzy przylecieli samolotem do Australii byli reprezentanci USA w Pucharze Davisa w listopadzie 1946. Nawet rodzimi tenisiści mieli problemy z dotarciem na miejsce rozgrywek, np. gdy turniej odbywał się w Perth, nie startował w nim nikt ze stanów Nowa Południowa Walia i Wiktoria, ponieważ zawodnicy nie byli w stanie przebyć odległości 3 tysięcy kilometrów dzielącej wschodnie i zachodnie wybrzeża Australii. W rozegranej w 1906 w Christchurch drugiej edycji turnieju wzięło udział zaledwie 10 tenisistów, w tym tylko dwóch Australijczyków.

Pierwsze turnieje mistrzostw Australazji cierpiały na rywalizacji z innymi turniejami rozgrywanymi na Antypodach, ponieważ zarówno australijska, jak i nowozelandzka federacja tenisowa już przed 1905 organizowały własne mistrzostwa, z których najbardziej znane były odbywające się od 1880 Mistrzostwa Stanu Wiktorii (Championship of the Colony of Victoria), w następnych latach przemianowane na Mistrzostwa Wiktorii (Championship of Victoria). W tamtych czasach dwaj najlepsi tenisiści, Australijczyk Norman Brookes (którego nazwisko nosi obecne trofeum dla najlepszego singlisty), oraz Nowozelandczyk Anthony Wilding prawie nie brali udziału w AO. Brookes wystartował i wygrał tylko raz (w 1911), natomiast Wilding zwyciężył w obu swoich startach (w 1906 i 1909). Nawet gdy mistrzostwa rozgrywano w nowozelandzkim Hastings, Wilding zdecydował się nie startować w ojczyźnie. Takie sytuacje były typowe dla wielu tenisistów tamtej epoki. W tenisowych Mistrzostwach Australazji/Australii nigdy nie wzięli udziału m.in.: bracia Doherty, bracia Renshaw, William Larned, Maurice McLoughlin, Beals Wright, Bill Johnston, Bill Tilden, René Lacoste, Henri Cochet, Bobby Riggs, Jack Kramer, Ted Schroeder, Pancho Gonzales, Budge Patty, Manuel Santana czy Jan Kodes, podczas gdy Ellsworth Vines, Jaroslav Drobny, Manuel Orantes, Ilie Năstase, Björn Borg wystartowali tylko raz.

Począwszy od 1969, gdy zawody po raz pierwszy rozegrano na Milton Courts w Brisbane, turniej był otwarty dla wszystkich zawodników, włącznie z zawodowcami, którzy nie byli dopuszczani do udziału w turniejach normalnego cyklu. Mimo tego, z wyjątkiem 1969 i 1971, w turnieju nie startowało wielu czołowych zawodników. Spowodowane to było niedogodnym położeniem Australii, niewygodnym terminem (okolice Bożego Narodzenia i Nowego Roku) oraz niską pulą nagród – w 1970 Narodowa Liga Tenisa (National Tennis League, NTL), do której należeli Rod Laver, Ken Rosewall, Andrés Gimeno, Pancho Gonzáles, Roy Emerson oraz Fred Stolle, zabroniła swoim zawodnikom startu w imprezie ze względu na niską pulę nagród, przez co turniej wygrał Arthur Ashe.

W 1983 w turnieju zdecydowali się wziąć udział Ivan Lendl, Mats Wilander i John McEnroe. W finale Wilander pokonał Lendla 6:1, 6:4, 6:4. Od zakończenia AO 1983 ITF naciskało na LTAA aby dokonało zmiany lokalizacji turnieju, ponieważ stadion Kooyong nie nadawał się już do organizacji tak wielkiego wydarzenia. Od 1988 turniej rozgrywano na Flinders Park (przemianowane później na Melbourne Park) na nawierzchni twardej Rebound Ace.

Zanim Melbourne Park stał się stałym miejscem rozgrywania Australian Open, doszło do wielu zmian terminu rozgrywania turnieju, np. edycja z 1919 roku odbyła się w styczniu 1920 (edycję z 1920 rozegrano w marcu tego samego roku). Gdy w 1923 roku turniej organizowało Brisbane, odbywał się on w sierpniu, kiedy w Australii nie było duszno i wilgotno. Po tym jak pierwszy turniej z 1977 zorganizowano na przełomie 1976 i 1977, organizatorzy zdecydowali się przenieść datę rozgrywek o kilka dni wcześniej. W ten sposób drugą edycję z 1977 rozegrano w grudniu (finał odbył się 31 grudnia), jednak te zmiany uzyskały aprobaty zawodników. W latach 1982–1985 turniej rozgrywano w połowie grudnia, wkrótce potem podjęto decyzję o powrocie do terminu styczniowego (z tego względu nie odbyła się edycja z 1986). Od 1987 data rozgrywania Australian Open nie uległa zmianom. Z drugiej strony w ostatnich latach wielu czołowych tenisistów, takich jak Roger Federer czy Rafael Nadal, jasno opowiada się za zmianą daty rozgrywek podkreślając, że turniej rozgrywany jest zbyt wcześnie po Świętach i Nowym Roku i nie pozwala im to na osiągnięcie optymalnej formy, oraz wyraziło nadzieję, że organizatorzy dokonają zmiany terminu na luty.

W 2008 roku na głównych kortach Melbourne Park zainstalowany został system Hawk-Eye (challenge), umożliwiający komputerowe sprawdzenie toru lotu piłki i miejsca trafienia w kort.

Również w 2008 roku zaproponowano kolejną zmianę miejsca rozgrywek. Władze stanu Nowa Południowa Walia jasno wyraziły chęć przejęcia turnieju, po wygaśnięciu licencji Melbourne w 2016 roku. Nowa, proponowana lokalizacja to Glebe Island w Sydney. W odpowiedzi, prezes Rady Stanu Wiktoria, Wayne Kayler-Thomson stwierdził, że turniej powinien pozostać w Melbourne oraz oskarżył władze Nowej Południowej Walii o brak oryginalnych pomysłów dla miasta i podkradanie cudzych. Wkrótce po złożeniu tej propozycji ogłoszono plan przebudowy Melbourne Park, który miał pochłonąć setki milionów dolarów. Przebudowa miała objąć zwiększenie liczby miejsc na największych kortach, montaż dachu nad Margaret Court Arena, rozbudowę pomieszczeń dla zawodników, budowę nowej siedziby dla Tennis Australia, oraz częściowo zakryty "rynek", na którym planowano zainstalowanie wielkich telewizorów umożliwiających oglądanie rozgrywanych aktualnie pojedynków.

Widownia w ostatnich latach
 2023 – 902 312
 2020 – 812 174
 2019 – 780 000
 2018 – 743 667
 2017 – 728 763
 2016 – 720 363
 2015 – 703 899
 2014 – 643 280
 2013 – 684 457
 2012 – 686 006
 2011 – 651 127
 2010 – 653 860
 2009 – 603 160
 2008 – 605 735
 2007 – 554 858
 2006 – 550 550
 2005 – 543 873
 2004 – 521 691

Trofea i pula nagród
Nazwiska zdobywców tytułów zostają na stałe wygrawerowane na pucharach za zwycięstwo w turnieju.

 Zwyciężczyni turnieju singlistek otrzymuje Puchar Daphne Akhurst (Daphne Akhurst Memorial Cup).
 Zwycięzca turnieju singlistów zostaje nagrodzony Pucharem Normana Brookesa (Norman Brookes Challenge Cup).

W 2022 roku premie pieniężne w turniejach mężczyzn i kobiet były takie same i wynosiły:

Mistrzowie
 Mistrzynie Australian Open w grze pojedynczej
 Mistrzowie Australian Open w grze pojedynczej
 Mistrzynie Australian Open w grze podwójnej
 Mistrzowie Australian Open w grze podwójnej
 Mistrzowie Australian Open w grze mieszanej

Aktualni mistrzowie

Rekordy
W przeciwieństwie do pozostałych turniejów Wielkiego Szlema pierwszą edycję Australian Open w formie open rozegrano w 1969, a nie 1968 roku.

Prawa telewizyjne
Prawa do transmisji w Polsce meczów rozgrywanych w ramach Australian Open posiada Discovery Sports. Transmisje emitowane są na kanałach Eurosport.

Przypisy

Linki zewnętrzne
 Oficjalna strona turnieju
 Oficjalna strona Tennis Australia
 Pełna lista zwycięzców i finalistów Australian Open

Australian Open

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


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Why Are Dads *Still* Going Drinking After Baby Is Born?
Angela Gyetvan was starving post-delivery.
So her husband — a professional chef — offered to pick up a celebratory dinner from his friends at a local restaurant. Unfortunately, instead of racing back to bring his hungry wife food, Gyetvan's husband (now her ex) was gone for several hours.
"And when he returned, he was a little drunk and had already eaten," Gyetvan says. "Celebrating with the dudes was clearly way more important than celebrating with me and our new beautiful child."
Dads (or partners) behaving badly post-birth are not as Instagrammable or social-media worthy as pics of baby detailing the exact length, weight, and timestamp of their birth. But online, you can find many stories about dads heading out to "wet the baby's head" — go drinking at the local pub after the birth — as did Prince William after the birth of Prince George, per The Mirror, alongside stories like the husband who complained on Dadsnet recently about being "ignored" by medical staff during his wife's labor (not so much as a cup of tea, he said). On one end of the spectrum, we have gripes about uninvolved dads; on the other end are people like Meal Train Dad, who rose to fame for his elaborate postpartum meal requests. What these pilloried dads share is confusion over what a dad's role should be after birth. And that lack of consensus over their duties postpartum is something that affects many families negatively, hilarious stories notwithstanding.
Prince William, who "wet the baby's head" after the birth of Prince George, drinks a Guinness. Shutterstock.
It happened to Jaime Malone, a licensed professional counselor, whose husband perhaps should have known better.
On their first night home from the hospital with newborn twins who needed to be fed every two hours, Malone's husband fell into a deep sleep, just a few feet away on the bed but out of reach.
"So when I was done nursing and needed help getting back up — remember, nursing two babies simultaneously, five days post c-section — I could not wake him from his deep slumber," Malone says.
Yes, Malone was angry. But, she says, there are other explanations — valid ones even — for partners behaving badly after the birth of a child.
In her case, Malone's husband was exhausted having had little sleep in the last five days (though, of course, either had she).
Yet, fathers also have their own mental and emotional experience of becoming a parent that often doesn't get the attention it needs.
"My own husband later explained the day he became a father as the scariest day of his life," Malone says.
When she went into labor at 36 weeks and had issues with her blood pressure, along with other complications, her husband was a nervous wreck.
"So even in the delivery room, a mom and a dad are having very different experiences, and when we discount dad's experience, we may mis-label and misinterpret the choices he makes."
By the time I delivered, I wanted to kick him in the face, but I couldn't because of the epidural.
I wanted to roll my eyes when I listened to this advice. So you're saying that after a major surgery or after pushing a baby out of your vagina for 48 hours, women still need to be considerate about their partner's sensitive feelings?
But, it turns out that science unfortunately backs this little nugget up, too.
A 2014 study published in Pediatrics found that depression amongst new dads increases by 68 percent during the first five years of a child's life. In other words, 25 percent — or 3,000 — new fathers become depressed daily. Their hormones also shift during pregnancy and post birth, with testosterone levels plunging and estrogen, prolactin and cortisol levels rising. The reason? No one knows.
What we do know is that the result of these hormone fluctuations in men is an emotional rollercoaster, close to what we see in women.
"In general, men experience a range of emotions that are similar to women's emotions during and after such a significant life event," says Karen Kleiman, a licensed clinical social worker and founder and director of The Postpartum Stress Center in Philadelphia.
Many men suppress these feelings, which can lead to further problems, such as irritability, anger, rage or acting badly, Kleiman says. In other words, if a man is hiding his feelings post-birth, it may be disguised as bad behavior.
Kekua Kobashigawa's ex-husband, for example, spent the majority of her 40 hours of labor on the phone with his mother (maybe he needed her motherly love to push him into the next phase of his life)? But Kobashigawa wasn't impressed.
"By the time I delivered, I wanted to kick him in the face, but I couldn't because of the epidural," she says. "I tried."
Often, men don't want to be a burden on their partners,especially when they're giving birth or directly after (thanks, men!), says Mark Williams, author of Daddy Blues, and keynote speaker with Fathers Reaching Out. But, Williams says, when fathers are suffering, it can impact the mother's mental health, which has an impact on the child's development.
So essentially, if your partner is acting out, it's key to have a *calm* conversation about why he isn't being the supportive partner you had envisioned.
"Make sure you surround yourself with support, and be non-judgemental, giving dad the space to open up about how he's really feeling," Williams says.
No, having a mini-breakdown isn't ideal in post-delivery. But we can't always choose the time and place for it. And that's common ground.


We're excited to invite you to our Twitter Q&A #AsianLitChat with Fonda Lee, author of Jade City!
Or add your city to the timezone converter to join in!
Early happy lunar new year! We're excited to share that we're hosting a more casual readalong structure in 2019 for the book club.
To kick off the February + March readalong, join us for Jade City by Fonda Lee!
As it's a flexible book club, feel free to join in whenever during the two months.
We are excited to share a few new books in December!
Note: This is a just a small sample of releases out in December, so let us know what books you're excited for.
I've always considered myself an accepting person. Growing up in the 1980s and 1990s, I always knew when certain things felt right or wrong, when it was important to push for progress.
New Releases: November Books by Asian Authors!
We are excited to share some new books in November!
New Releases: October Books by Asian Authors!
We are excited to share some new books in October!


Dstv Installers Houghton - Great Specials | So much more!
All of your DSTV, OVHD & CCTV repairs in and around Houghton are only a call away at Dstv Installers Houghton.
And Dstv Installers Houghton will ensure that our services are highly efficient so that you may be satisfied with the end results.


text:
local protobuf = require "protobuf"
module('BseGuildChangeAnnounce_pb', package.seeall)

local BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE = protobuf.Descriptor();
local BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD = protobuf.FieldDescriptor();
local BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD = protobuf.FieldDescriptor();

BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.name = "status"
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.full_name = ".com.xinqihd.sns.gameserver.proto.BseGuildChangeAnnounce.status"
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.number = 1
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.index = 0
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.label = 1
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.has_default_value = false
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.default_value = 0
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.type = 5
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD.cpp_type = 1

BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.name = "message"
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.full_name = ".com.xinqihd.sns.gameserver.proto.BseGuildChangeAnnounce.message"
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.number = 2
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.index = 1
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.label = 1
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.has_default_value = false
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.default_value = ""
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.type = 9
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD.cpp_type = 9

BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE.name = "BseGuildChangeAnnounce"
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE.full_name = ".com.xinqihd.sns.gameserver.proto.BseGuildChangeAnnounce"
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE.nested_types = {}
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE.enum_types = {}
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE.fields = {BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_STATUS_FIELD, BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE_MESSAGE_FIELD}
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE.is_extendable = false
BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE.extensions = {}

BseGuildChangeAnnounce = protobuf.Message(BSEGUILDCHANGEANNOUNCE)
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Tag: screening
Global, Reel SpinLeave a comment
ICFF celebrates Italian Oscar winners from GreenBook and Life is Beautiful
— Highlights of the bold 2019 lineup!
Film lovers can expect another glamorous, star-studded Italian Contemporary Film Festival across Canada this June, with more movies and guest stars than ever, including writer and producer of the 2019 Best Picture Green Book, Nick Vallelonga, and renowned Italian composer, Nicola Piovani, winner of the 1999 Oscar for Best Original Score for Life is Beautiful.
Among the many stars arriving from Italy for this year's festival are Ezio Greggio, Claudio Gubitosi, Luca Barbareschi, Fabio De Luigi and Piera Detassis.
The Italian Contemporary Film Festival, presented by IC Savings and in affiliation with Fare Cinema, announced the lineup for its 8th edition at The Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Toronto today. The 2019 program features 128 diverse and acclaimed films, including dozens of shorts and documentaries, totalling more than 190 screenings across the country – its largest and most ambitious program to date, which will see no shortage of star power.
Guests of the 2019 festival will include Nick Vallelonga, writer and producer of the 2019 Academy Award-winning film for Best Picture and Best Screenplay, Green Book; world-renowned Italian composer Nicola Piovani, winner of the 1999 Oscar for Best Original Score for Life is Beautiful (La vita è bella); Continue reading "ICFF celebrates Italian Oscar winners from GreenBook and Life is Beautiful"
2018 New York Indian Film Festival(NYIFF): Limelight, Spotlight, Highlights !
April 25, 2018 SITHARA
The 2018 edition of North America's largest and longest-running Diaspora festival, NYIFF, will pay tribute to TWO Indian film industry icons who passed away in the last four months: Hollywood/Bollywood actor Shashi Kapoor and the India's first female superstar Sridevi. Kapoor's tribute will comprise of two masterpieces from this year's Academy Award Winner James Ivory's wheelhouse: SHAKESPEARE WALLAH and HEAT AND DUST. The festival will also screen AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PRINCESS, starring New York author and chef Madhur Jaffrey, as part of its Merchant-Ivory Retrospective. To honor Sridevi's memory, NYIFF will showcase the actress' 2012 return to Bollywood in ENGLISH VINGLISH, shot primarily in New York City. Additionally, the festival, running from May 7th to 12th at the Village East Cinemas in Manhattan's Lower East Side, will open with the U.S. premiere of Ravi Jadhav's Marathi language film NUDE (with English subtitles) and close with the New York premiere of veteran NYIFF director Hansal Mehta's biopic on Islamic fundamentalist Omar Saeed Sheikh, OMERTA. This year's centerpiece slot will be occupied by Miransha Naik's Konkoni language film JUZE (with English subtitles),making its North American premiere at NYIFF.The festival's complete lineup will be revealed soon!
"NYIFF is known around the world for its top-notch, out-of-the-box programming, and this year is no different," said founder Aroon Shivdasani. "The New York audience is sophisticated, well-traveled, educated and discerning; as such, our content reflects what we think will resonate with the cinephiles of this cosmopolitan city and will keep them coming back for more." Continue reading "2018 New York Indian Film Festival(NYIFF): Limelight, Spotlight, Highlights !"


Hours of play at a…library?
Yes, it's true, you can absolutely entertain your kids for hours at the Barrington Area Public Library. It is that cool!
I grew up with weekly adventures to the library, and have visited several in the area, but in my humble opinion, the Youth Services Department of Barrington Area Library is amongst the best (if not the best) I've ever seen. It is absolutely amazing and offers something for kids of all ages and interest levels. It doesn't have the "Shhhhh" factor that makes it difficult to bring young children to the library, and instead is full of activity and sound. There is even a slide available for the littlest patrons, which definitely can illicit squeals of enjoyment. Learning through interactive play is strongly encouraged; it is also the perfect way to spend an afternoon for both parents and kids.
Located on the first floor of the library, the large and fully equipped Youth Services department is easily accessible for everyone, even a runaway toddler who can't wait for mommy to start his experience. Books, games, puzzles, a dress-up area/stage and puppets give the children chances to experience both quiet and imaginative activities. A large magnetic wall/chalkboard, a DUPLO play table and walled area, large tinker toy blocks (for fort-building, natch) and a huge Light Bright wall are fantastic interactive areas. The digital pond and the word wall are both opportunities for your children to understand cause-and-effect relationships by learning how their movements affect objects on the screens.
Advanced technological features bring this youth services area into the 21st century. A game room can be reserved to play video or board games with friends and family. iPads, pre-loaded with educational apps, are also available for play. Several desktop computers with Internet access and Windows 8 Computers familiarize kids with the latest Microsoft programs in a touchscreen environment. There is also a digital creation studio for children in 8th grade or younger to edit videos, photos, audio files, presentations and more. If all of this isn't enough, a craft room is located in the back corner, and depending on the timing of your visit, a supervised art project may be available for any interested child to create at no additional cost.
And the books! So many books. It is easy to find a comfy chair and cuddle up with the wide variety of board books or scout out something more age-appropriate for older readers. I am not exaggerating when I say that I truly had to drag all four of my children, (ages 1 – 10) out of there after playing for almost three hours.
On our next rainy spring afternoon, take a trip to Barrington and visit this library. Or go on a sunny day and also visit the garden area adjacent to the library, the nearby playground or the unique treehouse that is located just beyond the library, off of Route 22. I promise, one visit and you will be hooked, just as my family is.
"From your parents you learn love and laughter and how to put one foot in front of the other. But when books are opened, you discover you have wings." – Helen Hayes.
Has your family visited the Barrington Area Library? Tell us about your family's favorite activity there in the comments section.
We love the Barrington Area Library! What's nice is both my 2 year old and 7 year old can both find things to entertain them and explore. Also, they have the best events. Just recently we went to the Star Wars Sunday event and it was so well done. It's our second home.


text:
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Aklak
Regional/Commuter
Domestic only
In service
IATA: 6L
ICAO: AKK
Main hub: Inuvik Mike Zubko Airport
Country/Territory: Canada
Address: P.O. Box 1190, Inuvik, NT X0E 0T0
Aklak is a commercial carrier based in Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada. The company was formed as a joint venture in 1994 between the Inuvialuit Development Corporation and Kenn Borek Air Limited. It offers scheduled passenger services to the Western Arctic, charter passenger services to anywhere in the Arctic, as well as off-strip, floats, wheel-skis and tundra tires charter services.
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Our full profiles are only available to CAPA Members. CAPA Membership provides exclusive access to the information you need to monitor the competitive landscape and guide your organisation towards success.
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(2014) The new Alex Cortiz compilation Magnifico! volume 2, the follow up of the succesfull Magnifico! (2005). A new selection of some of his best tracks.. Vibin' grooves with elements of nu jazz, cinematic dub, funky blaxploitation and exotic chill.


text:
Stumble Upon Coffee Table and Stumble Upon Sofa by Alessandro Isola
"If you look down you may see a crease, a fold or a wrinkle in the carpet for instance. Signifying a movement or activity that happened on the surface of that very floor space. Highlighted as a small furrow, ridge, or crease on a normally smooth surface, caused by crumpling, folding, or shrinking. This usually causes a slight annoyance and is firmly pulled straight." Instead, in 2014 the Italian-bord architect Alessandro Isola introduced the Stumble Upon Coffee Table and Stumble Upon Sofa, magnifying the imperfection until folds are large enough to offer a functional surface with a playful visual twist.
Peillon is one of several "perched villages", just a few kilometers north of Nice and Monaco but at almost 400 meters altitude. It is a quaint pedestrian only village with narrow cobbled streets winding up and down through low vaulted passageways, offering a dramatic contrast to the busy Riviera coast to the south. A visit to this magnificent fortified village is a true trip back in time, with its unchanged stone houses being a beautiful example of medieval french architecture and Old World charm.
This New "Fancy Fence" System Retracts Gate Directly Into Ground
http://www.archdaily.com
The historic village of Monsanto in Eastern Portugal is another example of thoughtful architecture that adapts to its natural surroundings rather than attempting to transform them. The village developed around enormous granite boulders, utilized for walls, floors, and even roofs.The homes, sandwiched between mossy boulders, and the narrow cobbled streets have hardly changed in hundreds of years, making Monsanto a living museum that has retained its medieval village charm.
Icelandic turf houses were the product of a harsh environment. They offered superior insulation compared to stone and wood houses, and Iceland did have large amounts of turf that was suitable for construction, while other building material were difficult to obtain. The end result is an example of vernacular architecture based on local needs and construction materials, that blends beautifully into its natural environment.
Designer Jae Omar blends function and art in the RIVER sink by SonoBath that features a meditative passage from Herman Hesse's Siddhartha cut into the stone surface.
Remembering Zaha Hadid. She was, and will continue to be, a true inspiration for generations of architects.
Black Stainless is a new finish recently introduced by KitchenAid, Samsung and LG . Besides offering better smudge resistance, it is an interesting alternative if the rugged industrial look of conventional stainless steel doesn't appeal. Black Stainless complements nicely more modern and sleek kitchen designs, particularly if the cabinetry is a medium or dark tone.
The serene Shirakawa-go and Gokayama regions, nestled in a remote mountain area of Japan, are famous for their traditional gassho-zukuri farmhouses, some of which are more than 200 years old. Gassho-zukuri means "constructed like hands in prayer", as the farmhouses' steep thatched roofs resemble the hands of praying Buddhist monks. The roofs, made without nails, were designed to withstand the large amounts of heavy snow that falls in the region during winter, and provided a large attic space for cultivating silkworms.


Summary (Provided by Goodreads): Zadie Anson and Emma Colley have been best friends since their early twenties, when they first began navigating serious romantic relationships amid the intensity of medical school. Now they're happily married wives and mothers with successful careers--Zadie as a pediatric cardiologist and Emma as a trauma surgeon. Their lives in Charlotte, North Carolina are chaotic but fulfilling, until the return of a former colleague unearths a secret one of them has been harboring for years.
Ooooo! So pretty! I almost don't care what this book is about because the cover is so pretty. Luckily, the summary appealed to me as well. A friendship with hidden secrets in their past that comes back to haunt them? I was completely sold and this became one of my most anticipated novels of 2018.
Queen of Hearts is pretty much what Grey's Anatomy would be if it was a book and I loved it.
Emma and Zadie became friends when they met at a high school program for aspiring doctors. They then stayed friends as they went through the same programs and both ended up working in their specialties in Charolette. At this point in their lives, tey are both married with children and still consider each other their closest and dearest friends.
When they were in medical school, the experienced a traumatic event that was fraught with drama and mystery. Ten years later, a doctor from their past, who was right in the middle of this mystery and drama, shows up in their hospital.
The story alternates between Zadie and Emma's perspectives as well as the timeline of current day and their pasts (mostly their third year of medical school). I liked the way that this novel was laid out. I think the story would have lost a lot if it had only been told from one perspective, and I liked that we learned about their past slowly over time and not all at once.
Martin also balanced the medical terminology with real world drama. I never felt like I was reading a textbook, but there was enough there that I felt as though Emma and Zadie were real life med students and doctors. The only issue I had with the writing was the character descriptions. I felt there was a lot of discussion about Emma and Zadie's appearances. Not only did it come up a few too many times for my liking, but it was always the same description. If I had to read that Zadie was "slim but voluptuous in a curvy way" one more time I was going to scream.
I loved the medical drama, as I am a fan of the early Grey's Anatomy seasons. The friendship was beautiful to see too. I loved seeing that Emma and Zadie were supportive of each other throughout their lives. Watching the way their past came up on them was fascinating too, and ended in a satisfying (if maybe not fully realistic) way.
I really enjoyed this book. I would have loved to read it with book club, just to have someone to talk about it with. If you are a Grey's Anatomy fan, or a fan of books with friendship at the core I would highly recommend this book. As a debut, I think Martin has a few kinks to work out with her writing, but her story telling is solid and I was entertained the entire time. I look forward to reading more of her books in the future!