acqua attraverso la pelle.

water through the skin.

Came across a piece on adult swallow tail streamer length. It suggested that the hen's two tail-streamers would be the aerodynamic ideal, IE that longer or shorter degrades flight functionality. Also that in cock birds the elongated streamers are a stretch beyond that same aerodynamic mean, inferring that their tails are less functional than the hens' similar.

 

But this seems to consider & assess only one aspect of the plumage jacket, not considering that there may be compensations in other features of the cock birds' tails - or elsewhere in the plumage? - that might confer similar flight manoeuvrability to that of the hen birds. Since these birds' preferred feeding pattern clearly depends very heavily on extreme articulation of their flight paths, being able to twist, turn, dive and ascend in convoluted corkscrew-combinations - allowing them regularly to intercept successfully tiny lightweight wind-borne prey items. If the penalty of longer tails was genuine, that might in turn reduce the cock birds' ability to feed successfully - in order to achieve more regular/reliable breeding success?

 

I didn't see any reference to whether or not these streamers elongate only in the period of sexual selection of breeding partners, or indeed whether it's the hen birds that select suitable breeding partners. The tail streamer theory seems to suggest that that's the way of it. But other species appear to be able to identify and select nest partners without having any observable difference in their plumage - eg wood pigeons.

 

If that's so, then why construct a theory like this one

 

Limited observations are only ever likely to produce reasoning validity of a limited nature - was a lesson I recall learning many, many years ago. Nothing learnt since has tended to overturn that little gem of logic.

 

"And that's all I have to say about that" - Forrest Gump.

Title says it all. An overview shot, plus a scalar and several detail pics. View all sizes, please.

A few minutes after takeoff my reasoning for asking:-

 

#1 - For a window seat

 

and

 

#2 - Being a complete pain in asking for it to be on the left side of the plane, finally paid off.

 

Seat 30A on the United Airlines flight from Portland to Chicago did it's job nicely, the view of Mount Saint Helens and Mount Rainier over the top of the clouds was simply stunning, and made me so glad that I remembered to ask for a specific seat and also remembered to drop my compact camera into my trousers when boarding.

 

Of course I do have the cloud level to thank for the shots I managed, as having spent three weeks trying to get a good shot of either mountain had left me dissappointed - I reckon it was the clouds way of apologising to me.

While on Flickr last night I discovered, to my own small horror, that I was blocked by someone for the first time. I can understand their reasoning, a bit, as my 'try before you trash' stance on the new bratz bodies was met with some contention by others. Still, as I'd been contacts with this person for over a year, talked to them before and had found this them to be both a splendid photographer & interesting person it did hurt a bit, if only because with my own comments gone I looked it made my character seem untoward and because I thought our rapport was built enough to that if they had a problem with me, they could just tell me. Hrm

 

But that's not what this upload's about.

 

Earlier this morning, while running errands with my mother before an appoinment of my own, we were almost in a very bad car accident. Were it not for my mother's supreme driving ability and an open lane beside us, I would be in serious trouble right now as a man, who wasn't looking where he was going, came within a hair's breadth of her car (our mirrors were almost touching, for serious) and nearly slammed into me.

 

Collecting myself, I was able to identify the car as one representing a dealership, thanks to the gigantic logo, and reported the driver. And although still a bit shaken up about it, it reminded me just that I'm so, SO grateful to be safe as well have my friends & family around me who care & certainly put things into perspective. I won't pretend that I'm not a little miffed still over it, as I've always tried to be someone that seemed open to requests & criticism from others, it certainly put things in perspective and made me realize how unimportant last night's events actually were in the first place.

 

Still - if someone has a problem with me, in the future just let me know, okay?

Subject: Exfoliating tree bark (likely birch or similar thin-barked species)

 

Type: Natural bark shedding (not decay)

 

Most likely candidates

Birch (genus Betula) — especially paper birch or river birch

 

Alternative: Sycamore (Platanus occidentalis) or paperbark maple (Acer griseum)

 

Reasoning

Thin, curling sheets peeling away from the trunk

 

Papery, layered structure rather than thick plates

 

Mixed tones: gray, brown, slight orange oxidation

 

Rolled edges forming tubular curls

 

This matches “papery bark” exfoliation, where outer bark separates in thin layers as the tree grows . Birch species are the most common example of this behavior.

 

Detailed Description

Material: Dead outer bark (rhytidome), naturally shed

 

Structure:

Thin laminar sheets

Curling and peeling edges

Overlapping, chaotic layering

 

Texture:

Dry, fibrous, slightly brittle

Mix of smooth inner surfaces and rough outer surfaces

 

Color palette:

Cool grays, slate, and charcoal

Warm rust/orange oxidation

Occasional green (lichen or algae traces)

 

Forms present:

Scroll-like curls

Flaking sheets

Rolled cylinders

Torn, jagged edges

 

Biological Context

Bark peeling (exfoliation) is a normal growth process

Outer bark cannot expand → splits and sheds as trunk diameter increases

 

New inner bark is exposed beneath

 

In species like birch, this creates distinctive papery layers

 

Visual / Artistic Assessment

Strong emphasis on texture over form

 

Repetition of curves and folds creates rhythm

 

Tonal contrast: muted cool vs warm rust accents

 

Feels geological or metallic, despite being organic

 

Good subject for:

Focus stacking (high micro-detail)

 

Low-angle side lighting (enhances relief)

 

Neutral or black background (separates complexity)

 

This is stacked - 1200 images

Have you ever wondered how Kylo plans the First Order strategies?

 

Imagine the logical reasoning of the wise general, the meticulous analysis of the brilliant tactician…then think about the very opposite!

In Kylo’s deranged mind there is no such thing as logic.

 

Every time he has to make a decision he throws one of his tantrums and then he orders his Stormtroopers to throw dices to choose between the various options.

 

Today we have the privilege to look behind the scenes of the First Order grand strategy planning, where farce reigns supreme.

 

May the Brick be with You :)

Babbs Mill is very unique in the fact that is was the only mill in the entire state to use a Pelton Wheel. The reasoning for this is that in order to use the Pelton Wheel the mill had to be very close to a rather tall waterfall in order to use the energy of the falling water. The Pelton Wheel was a tiny 24 inches in diameter wheel with 5 nozzles surrounding it. The wheel could easily generate more than 40 horsepower which was very remarkable for the time period.

. . . Love is no hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!!!

 

This is a polite dedication, a mute gesture, in return to what she has always been giving and providing me with, with a hope for so much more to come... i entitle that person as special for the reasoning tht my hunt never ended till i met her.... she has a special place in my life, my family and friends.... i would never want her distant ever !! God bless her and her family.....

 

Well the universe is shaped exactly like the earth

If you go straight long enough you'll end up where you were

This is not a new MOC. I mean, just take a look at the dust on it.

 

This ship started out as one of two identical ships. I forget the exact reasoning now, but at some point I decided to make this one all rusty and decrepit. I had planned on using it for my FEZ webcomic, but that has kinda stalled.....

Went digging through the archives, today...alongside the normal musings, "what happened to ____", "why didn't I try _____ again", I stumbled upon a bunch of faces I realize I could now photograph oh so much better.

 

Not regret, that's not the feeling, more like realizing I can now read a language that was alien to me, back then. "Oh, NOW I get how to photograph this person!"

 

This ties into something I'll be talking about in an upcoming Flickr blog article, the idea of being self-critical. It's not about going back and thinking all your old work is shit. I do it because I so often see something new in old photos. A new approach, a new appreciation for photos I didn't fully understand.

 

Same reasoning folks use for re-reading books. Seeing something new in the same sea of art. Discovering what you'd missed, what you weren't ready to experience, that first time.

 

And while there's a tinge of "hm...wish I'd photographed that person again", it's mostly an excitement for the future, for using these realizations moving forward.

 

...whenever the hell that is!

"After some reasoning the museum and Marcus agreed to keep government officials out of the business of my next expedition. We can't risk any bureaucratic interference after that mess with the ark. My studies have led us to believe there are further artifacts in Hovitos territory back in Peru. Knowing those goons, there's got to be more artifacts they have behind secure doors.

The item in question is a supposed crystal skull, supposedly from their Gods, if you believe in that sort of thing. Reminds me of an old colleague of mine, Oxley, it was his lifelong obsession but I never heeded much to it until now. The legend says it resides in a lost river delta, guarded within the bowels of the earth. Of course there's going to be temples and of course there's going to be traps. There better not be snakes.

Even though it's best we professors don't pay much heed to the ghost stories, there have been rumors coming out of an area not too far from the spot that an abandoned temple dig site has recently been having unexplained phenomenons. So if anything it's likely worth the benefit to go out there to check. Jock provided me with this photo, it was difficult to tell because of the grain, but then again, this is 1936. He seemed to know exactly where this temple was.

Me and Jock departed at daybreak so I could reach the temple before the Hovitos started their daily patrol. Paco's coming in tomorrow to assist the excavation. In case what we're searching for is in fact, the temple of the crystal skull, take general advice. Don't let tourists in here, don't use anything noisy to disturb the spirits like vehicles, and most importantly, NEVER look into anything's eyes.

I hate Disney."

-Indy

J'ai décidé de vous présenter quelques photos que je fais lors des fouilles que je dirige, ou auxquelles je participe, sur la thématique "archéologues au travail".

Ici Fabien et Christelle en pleine discussion. La base, dans toute recherche, c'est l'argumentation...

 

I decided to present some pics I took during the search I am directing or taking part of, on the theme "archeologues at work".

Here, Fabien and Christelle in full discussion. The basics of all research is reasoning...

...it takes both me and you.

  

So, for whatever reason, last night my husband decided to Google me. I'm not sure if he was more excited that he actually found ME,( along with handful of other Karen Biggs') or that he found a pretty good amount of me. If you Google 'Karen Biggs Photographer' you find a lot of me. Hmmm. Images mostly. Almost all manipulations. heh.

 

One particularly interesting thing was that I'm actually on a site for 'Top 20 Graphic Manipulations' for some Graphic Design school. Heh. That's kinda cool.

  

ANYWAY, the reasoning behind me saying that, is I realize that it has been a very great while since I put any real thought into a photo. Not that this is all that awesome, but at least I'm getting the juices flowing in my head again. That's somethin, right?

 

and.......just like the old days...there are apple bits in my sink. ;-)

 

Happy Monday. =)

Have a GREAT day! xo

.....actually I believe it's a juvie Cooper's hawk. Reasoning; eye placement more forward on head, head feather colors more of a cap than hood, and the prominent white tipped tail.

Feel free to express your opinion on ID, but please state your reasoning if you think it is Sharp-shinned hawk.

 

A Buddha statue in Sapporo, Japan

And back it comes...

 

Seemingly having made a recent home for itself on the 7 route group, Trustybus Dennis Dart SLF/East Lancs Myllennium PE55WPP heads along Stansted Road in Stansted Mountfitchet working a Route 7C to Bishops Stortford Interchange.

 

Some any given reasoning the blind is showing 7E, given to a single AM journey that skips serving Henham in full, the only bus on the 7 group to do so 19/11/19

Legs of some of the dancers of Whitchurch Morris, who were performing at Pitstone Green Museum on 6th May 24. Taken on film (shutter priority, 1/15 second, f22). Film was developed and scanned by Analogue Wonderland. This is an edited version of my original image Morris Legs. The edited version has recently been used in a Buckingham Camera Club internal competition. My reasoning for editing, was I felt the white marquee in the background and the crack in the patio in the foreground were unnecessary distractions.

When birds of paradise were first brought back from Papua New Guinea to Europe they were prepared by the locals in such a way that they were just skin, beak and feathers. So western Zoologists thought that these birds had no legs, bones or entrails, and that they must just float about among the clouds (ie the heavens or paradise), and it was even thought that the female laid her eggs in a special cavity in the male's back. When Linnaeus described the first Greater Bird of Paradise in 1758 he called it Paradisaea apoda which translates as legless bird of paradise because his type specimen was without legs, flesh or skeleton. Just five years later in 1763 Erich Pontoppidan, the Norwegian Bishop, Author, Historian and Cryptozoologist described the Arctic Tern as paradisaea. I have not been able to find out why he named it after paradise but they are so short-legged they appear as almost legless and I wonder if this was his reasoning. Pontoppidan also argued for the existence of Sea Serpents, the Kraken and Mermaids in his 2 volume Natural History of Norway in 1752 and 1753 so he might well have believed these birds had no legs like the birds of paradise. If anyone fancies deciphering Pontoppidan's original eighteenth century Norwegian manuscript it is here: gdz.sub.uni-goettingen.de/id/PPN391287532 . But Pontoppidan's description was considered to be indeterminate, so Morten Brünnich published a description ( in Ornithologia Borealis 1764 p46). However, Arctic Tern was not generally recognised as being distinct from Common Tern until 1819 (by Johann Naumann, who called it Sterna macrura which means large tailed tern, because its tail is longer than Common Tern), but this was 56 years after Pontoppidan's original description. The name macrura persisted from 1819 until the middle of the twentieth century when it was decided that Brünnich's description amending Pontoppidan's original was the earliest valid description and name.

 

I photographed this Arctic Tern in Northumberland as it flew past carrying a surprisingly large fish. They usually feed on Sandeels but this looks like a young Herring. But happy to be corrected if anyone out there is a fish expert.

IN RE DAEDALUS

...to be correct its absolutely fair, timely,

right to praise existent cultural event

in Time & Space, defining Age of Caves,

to dreams to fly as Birds achieving freedom

above the Earth, escaping yoke & fear to

be a prey of beast & savage, as ardent

power to survive in harsh conditions, in-short

defy most known dangers to fragile Life

in terms of victim in Stone Age, least armed

by only fists & stick...

"- ...Event of what?" - the artifice inventing

from a scratch extended reasoning about some,

or any artifact, let us to say: "critique", analysis

of pure abstraction, plasticity of Mind,

 

cognition, for mere convenience epitomized:

"Etudes of Czerny", - surprised analogy?

why not? the simplest answer to "...of what?"

Again - its fantasy presumes sole philosophical

approach as walk in lecture hall, or expose'

in archaeological museum in search ancestral

line, or Apples' Tree before & after dinosaurs,

or Apes, omitting even definition

"culture" as synonym of multy-focal hub

related to linguistic nature encapsulating

lineage of "tribe" & some expressions

explained exact as "quantum perturbation"

amidst the disarray by voices emitting rage

and "none elastic interaction" opposing

 

bodies of attractive charge, affecting

entropy & wasting Energy. Alas.

... and here's why frightful voices

from screaming articles, hysterical TV,

presaging propaganda in format of

screens by every mean supplied in panic

unpredictable upshot of fright & horror

at every corner & beyond

of Earth-spheroid , by its lethargic modus

operandi induced Hypnosis & trembling,

as if a frost spears skin by freezing needles,

as if a fallen Snow, only Snow! relieving

sadness & delivers harmony to heal abruptly

touching Soul, & witnessed drops from roofs

 

& tops off frozen pines & oaks -

all previous plumage of veiling leafs

& thorns alike eons ago, same piercing

ritual of season changing color -

soft, gradual, assembled by dictation

of prognosis on next Millennia its

Astral clicking log-calendar, & rumbles

endless running Times by changing

curtains & theatrical sublime of current

fervor, from different perspectives back

& forth through puddles turned to frozen

water at Flemish foggy antitheses utter

back to birth of Times on canvases

of Elder Pieter Bruegel, as similar as strokes

 

of brush, as Ancients depicted dreams by oil,

tempera, pigments - by vibes & heartbeats to

induce imagination' flow & closing gap

between reality, peysage, Ikarus's fall,

ambitious as any esoteric stunt

above exhausted peasants, its melancholic

habit to exist & outlive beyond kulbit

maneuver of piercing atmosphere above

astonished mountains' peaks, & vanish as if

wink of eye above Lilacs & Olives before

his fall: projected uniform momentum in

Eternity, or - as if a wings within its stupor

to go-up subdued evoked "reality" transformed

in Painting before the Mind connects event...

 

Another POL photo! This one for reasoning.

With this photo, I wanted to convey that I know I am a little fish in a very big pond. There will always be someone more talented, more intelligent, or with more experience than me. But maybe, just maybe, I can stand up for myself.

Joel Robison has a very cool chess photo that this one was inspired by; I highly recommend that you check out his work.

youtu.be/Al_nQIozOeA

Slinking away, still smirking over how rewardingly gullible the bejeweled wealthy girls in silky dresses had proven, Angie unexpectedly came across fresh, opulently inviting, prey.

************************

  

************************

 

Angelique D. at play

 

Angie D

 

Circa 1915

 

Case study 113 subset b

 

Early development: “Pickpocket” of worn Jewelry

 

Sub title:

 

What is it about rich girls that make them so lucratively gullible?

Quoted by Subject: log 1959

 

**********************************************************

 

What:

 

Along a path just outside where a departing congregation of a small church still gathered.

 

Where

 

The outskirts of Chestermere:

 

When:

 

An early fall day, in the year of our Lord 1915

 

Who:

 

An appealing lady wearing a secret smile, clad expensively in a silky top and flowing satiny ruffled skirt, a pair of gold earrings flashing merrily as she strolls.

 

Excerpted from Diary:

 

A lady in a cream silk blouse and long blue skirt was walking happily along a path on the outskirts of Chestermere. She was coming from the early Sabbath service of a local chapel, filled with the rousing words of the Parson’s homily. As Angie walked, she hummed a cheerful tune, her conscious, as always, free of any guilty feelings.

 

Angie was very pleased with herself, and the main source of the pleasure was now bouncing against her thigh as she briskly walked along. For deep in a small pocket hidden well below the waistline of her flowing sleek skirt, was a pretty jeweled pendent on a delicate gold chain.

 

Only just 15 minutes ago that jeweled pendent was still being worn by a member of a rather wealthy looking family whom had been in attendance at the same Sabbath service. Angie had scoped them out as the family had waltzed in just after the mass had started. The mother was dressed in a pretty white frock with ruffles of lace falling from her throat and wrists, along with a rather nice set of pearls. The rather formal and severe father was in a “monkey suit”, a gold pocket watch and fob stretched across his rather bulging waist. The pair had their hands full with two rambunctious , pre-adolescent twin boys, who had continually distracted them during and after the lengthy service. Which was good, from Angie’s point of view anyway, for it left the parents totally ignoring their seventeen year old daughter , at the end of the pew, standing with a sultry air about her.

 

The daughter was wearing a rather fancy party dress of thick red silk. Dangling down the front of the sheer red silk bodice, on a thin gold chain, was an attention grabbing deep green emerald starburst pendent that fell swaying from her dress’s high neckline. It had been the sleek dress that had whetted Angie’s interest, but it was the pendent that kept that interest focused during the entire service, delightedly eyeing the pendant’s shimmeriness in the low candle lit church. During the communion procession she had managed to slip in behind her in order to closer scrutinize the prospect, soaking in the expectations of acquiring it from the unsuspecting proper acting young lady..

 

As the service ended, the family joined in the stream of the departing congregation. Angie followed closely, looking for her chance. It came when the Parson stopped the father to ask a question, a group soon huddled around the mother and the twins. As everyone bent over to focus attention on the twins, including their sister, Angie circled her prey and slipped in close, hovering briefly over her back before darting in. In one fluid motion, Angie lifted with one practiced hand the chain and flicked open the thin clasp, nimbly catching the swaying pendent in her other hand as it fell, whisking the sparkling emeralds and chain away and palming it from sight. Absolutely no one noticed the flashy necklace as it vanished from the front of the sister’s silky dress. Angie had continued on her way, clutching the pendent, and headed straight out the door without looking back. Instead of heading back the short 3 miles to her hotel in the city, she decided to head out towards the woods, where she planned to lay low until dusk.

   

Angie now turned her head to have a look behind her at the distant chapel and the people milling about, her gold plated earrings flashing as she did so. Good, she thought, no one was following her, and she, in total security that she was out of danger, crossed off the path and went on the road.

  

Angie strolled along the country lane, trees lining it turning red and yellow in their autumn gowns, for quite some time, before she became aware of a band playing off in the distance.. Then turning a bend in the lane, through the thin wall of woods, she spied a wedding reception up on a hill by a white stone Church. From her vantage point she could see a multitude of colourful , richly shimmering gowns and the occasional sparkle of , she hoped , opulent jewelry.

  

As good luck would have it, she decides to crash the party. She was dressed for it, she was hungry, and who knows what pickings she may find inside to increase her earthly riches ,as the Parson had been saying! She walked around, skirting the woods and came across a hillside garden with rose covered arbors and bright flower lined paths. Two grubby boys of about ten and twelve were playing in the woods on the opposite side, by a small pond surrounded thickly with Rhododendron s. She entered the Garden and made her way up the winding path, coming out onto a small field with benches that lay on the opposite side of the church and the auditorium entrance to the reception.

 

Angie entered the crowded auditorium underneath the Church. She helped herself to the food buffet and sat outside enjoying her meal, as she watched the richly dressed crowd. A young man came up and asked her to dance, which she did happily, and just as happily lifted his gold watch and fob. And, too boot, after a few dances with him, she had become a part of his circle, happily mingling, and rubbing elbows with the obviously wealthy guests he presented her to. Including an introduction to his pretty faced teenage sister, who was sporting a pretty diamond ring on all too slender finger, that she kept waving in Angie’s face as she played with her long silky hair.

  

Angie soon left them and started to stalk about for a bit, noting that most of the guests were older, more mature specimens. There seemed to be a lack of young, well dressed children around, whose shiny offerings had been Angie’s main bread and butter for almost two years.. She had just come to the conclusion that she would have to settle for picking a few pockets or purses before leaving. She started to look around for the bloke with the fancy gold pocket watch who had first asked her to dance….

 

Then she saw her.

 

The lady was moving through the crowd, on the arms of a man half her age, giggling, not paying attention to anything else around her. She wore a long gown of a shimmery purple silk. But it was not the gown that had caught Angie’s eye, but the jeweled brooch that hung from the gowns cleavage, shadowed by its mistress’s ample bosom. Like the figurehead in a seagoing schooner it came, shimmering in the dazzling light of at least a hundred diamond chips, surrounded by an oval of blazing sapphires. Angie’s fingers tingled. It was time.

 

****************************************************

Now, it had been better than three years ago when Angie had run across an ancient, toothless Gypsy in a long black dress with a faded shawl around her shoulders, who had spoken Angie’s fortune. When she had read Angie’s palm, she looked Angie dead in the eyes, a most knowing kind of look. Then she had risen, motioning Angie to stay and came back with a rather battered old pamphlet she wanted Angie to look over. Entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip by “Gaston Monescu, 1826”, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets. Including whole chapters on successful “Methodes” of relieving a wealthe lady of her” jeweles”.

 

The Gypsy Woman, who had hovering over Angie as she had read deeply into the pamphlet moved and sat back down across from her.

 

Angie ,who by this time in her quite young life, was already an accomplished cutpurse and picker of pockets, looked up at the gypsy, grinned, and asked if it was worth her while. The Gypsy just smiled, reached up and opened her dirty laced shawl, revealing the silvery necklace that Angie had been wearing when she had come in. Amazed she traded the necklace for the pamphlet on the spot and quickly began putting its teachings into play.

 

Angie soon mastered this new level of her chosen craft.

 

She had started on mannequins: clothing them in long silky dresses and jewelry. She had practiced for months, first in a rented studio apartment, then in a secret basement located in an isolated, deserted old barn and then its surrounding woods. Soon she felt confident enough to go out and try it in the crowded streets amongst shopping women. She met with great success, but her gains were only a pittance. Still she practiced, and had gotten so adept that she soon was moved onto more affluent hunting grounds.

 

She reasonably started out with weddings. For the phamplett had suggested starting out at formal parties where there would be an abundance of youngsters dressed in their best by parents wanting to show their off female issues to an adoring public( in the minds of the wealthy parents, anyway). So she went, seeking out young, easily distracted young girls who were not used to wearing the array of enticing jewels placed on them by overly enthusiastic parents.

 

Angie’s first time out was met with some rather sweet success. A large day time wedding reception in Nova Scotia, held in a public park by a majestic sweeping waterfall.

 

Late at the reception, as she was still prowling without making any formal attempts, she soon noticed that the adults at the gathering were becoming quite gay with drink, and noticeably paying less attention to their children. Said children began to wonder off in groups, exploring and starting to run about playing games, their gowns and dresses whispering a Pied Piperish tune to Angie’s ears, their shiny jewels luring her ever closer.

 

Angie soon started to follow a pair of young ladies who had scampered off to explore.

One was an impish girl with long black hair flowing down, drawing ones attention to the frilly white dress she was wearing. Gold chain earrings dancing merrily from her ears, as a longish gold herringbone chain shimmering brightly in the sun as it lay hanging from her silk dresses’’ high neckline.

Her partner in crime was a most fascinating subject. A charmingly bright green eyed proper young imp, a couple of years older than white dress, with a rather pronounced Welsh accent, much like Agie’s remembered her parents having. Her silken red hair lay down her back in a neat long French braid. A long thin satin gown of emerald green swished as she ran with the awkwardness of youth to keep up with her new friend. A matching satin bow was tied just below her throat, its ends trailing down to her svelte waistline. At the bows center was fastened a glittering rhinestone pin. She also was wearing a small rhinestone necklace that encircled her throat just above the bow. Her ears were home to a pretty pair of clasped rhinestone earrings that matched the pattern of her necklace. Around one short shiny green satin gloved wrist was a brite rhinestone bracelet.

 

The duo found the waterfall, by which a photographer had set up a camera. Angie approached the lovely pair, and easily started up a conversation, helped by the fact that as an adult, she was not scolding them for walking off. They seemed pleased that Angie was actually doing the exact opposite, like a favored auntie, she was encouraging them to explore.

 

Angie led them around a bend for a different view of the cascading waterfall, out of earshot of the reception. She helped the black haired lass, Basil, up to sit on a small stone wall for a better look, also helping to slip off the shiny gold herringbone necklace from her throat with an almost effortless ease in the process. As, with itching fingers, she contemplated what to do about Basil’s gold earrings, Angie started to watch Lydia.

 

Oblivious to what was going on around her, the red head, Lydia, was standing next to Angie, looking over the fence which just reached her shoulders. Here dear, Angie said, after pocketing the purloined gold necklace, you’re messing up your pretty dress. Angie turned the girl towards her, reached over and said, here, let my fix your bow, darling. Lydia allowed Angie to retie it, as Basil, her back to them, happily was watching, enraptured, the splashing water. Angie finished undoing and retying Lydia’s satin bow, neatly removing the pretty rhinestone pin in the process, then as she straightened the girl’s color, Angie had her turn around. As Lydia obediently did so, Angie flicked open the rhinestone necklaces clasp, and peeled off the flashy necklace from around Lydia’s throat as she turned round. Just like that, Lydia’s rhinestone necklace went the same way of er pin, both ending up with the gold chain in a secret pocket hidden in the folds of Angie’s skirt.

 

Angie stood behind Lydia, placing her hands on Lydia’s slick silken covered shoulders, all three watching the waterfall. Angie’s left hand caressingly, ever so lithely inched down along Lydia’s side, reaching the girls wrist. As Angie engaged them in conversation, she slowly worked off the bracelet, leaving only the pretty earrings as her last challenge.

 

Angie lifted her right hand and slowly moved it up to one of the girl’s dangling earrings, sparkling in the waterfalls’ reflection.. With her left hand she pointed upstream. As both girls turned their heads to look, off came a rhinestone earring. Angie than playfully lifted Lydia’s long French braid and laid it over Lydia’s shoulder, below her now bare ear. She turned to look down, giggling, and as she did so, Angie plucked away the remaining earring; it easily came off and joined its companion with the rest of the collection of jewelry in Angie’s secret pocket. Amazed that the process of removing young Lydia’s jewels had gone off so easily, Angie almost wished Lydia had been wearing bells like one of her sleekly gowned practice mannequins. Her reasoning being that she would know if it was because her skill level was that good, or just the fact that Lydia was just an unworldly youth easily distracted. Whatever the reason, Angie, feeling fresh inspiration, looked over at the chirpy basil, and her shiny gold earrings.

 

Angie moved behind Basil, placing her hands upon the slippery waistline of her silk dress, then leaned forward, whispering in the girls ear, tickling it with her breath. As Basil giggled Angie reached up gently lifted the gold chain earring up from the lobe of the girl’s opposite ear lobe. Then nimbly with her thumb and index finger, flicked open the hinge clasp and neatly removed the earring, watching for any reaction from her victim. Basil never felt a thing, Lydia was still watching the waterfall, equally as oblivious. Angie kept her chin close to Basil’s ear, and the remaining earring. Cautiously she moved her fingers up, and then darting in with them, successfully repeated the maneuver. As the earring joined the rest of her collection, Angie could not help thinking that if all her future endeavors were as successful, she could end up living quite a comfortable lifestyle.

 

Angie stayed a few more minutes, keeping the pair distracted the whole time before she cautiously moved off, leaving the two of them there by stream. Basil happily perched on the stone wall, and Lydia bent down, busily plucking at the moss growing on the old stones. Both girls still quite fetching in their pretty gowns, both a bit less weighted down by any added trimmings.

 

For the next year, fueled by her early success, she started focusing entirely on wedding receptions. Honing her skills until it became almost mundane for her nimble fingers to lift a jewel, no matter where is was being worn by a squirming young lady upon her fancy dressed person. And, actually, some of her acquisitions where worth a surprising bit of dough when pawned.

  

Favored Case in Point:

 

It was in New Hampshire, on her 24th outing late during the wedding season of the following year when she came upon a rather prim young miss of about 13, clad in a long sleeved thick yellow satin blouse, a black velvet vest and matching gold and black vertical striped satin skirt. A young raven haired bumble bee with no stinger, but with pearls, black pearls in a long string dangling down along the front of her shiny back buttoned blouse. She was also wearing matched black pearled earrings, and a small, daintily jeweled pin in the shape of a humming bird on her velvet vest. She was sitting alone at a table, playing with some crayons and a book. Angie, who had been watching her for some time from a bar stool, had come up and caught the pretty little things full attention, easily capturing her interest, then, finally, suggesting they go and watch the activity on the ballroom floor from a small alcove in a corner. Liking the adventurous way Angie had suggested it, the bumble bee had eagerly followed Angie away from the table.

 

Angie continued making small talk as the pretty thing was watching the exquisitely gown guests on the dance floor, including the girls’ parents. She was met with youthful exuberance by the youth, who was so enthralled with the activity on the dance floor that she was as unaware of what was going on around her , much like one of Angie’s practice Mannequins. After quite easily removing the dainty jeweled pin, Angie’s subtle fingers were able to lift up and flick open the rhinestone clasp of the child’s pearled necklace. Angie than coolly waited for a prime moment before whisking away the wholly distracted young miss’s gleaming black strand of pearls from around the high ruffled collar of her yellow satin blouse.

 

And also, like one of her gowned and jeweled practice Mannequins, the young girl never noticed anything amiss as Angie continued on with her conversation for quite some time afterwards. It was daring, but exciting as Angie kept stealing looks at the bare front of the glossy yellow blouse where the pearls had hung down so deliciously, knowing they were in her own pocket, so close, but for the young lady, so far.. Finally she decided she was pressing her luck, and she wished the child a goodnight, before beating a hasty exit,( but not before circling back to the now deserted table and heartlessly lifted the fat, expensively made purses, of both the young girl, and her mother!)

 

The jeweled hummingbird pin, and string of matched black pearls, dainty and long, fetched a pawned price that left whetted Angie’s appetite for more!

 

So, it was after this that Angie, looking for fresher, richer challenges, decided to seek out slightly older prey in their natural habitats, proms and social teenage dances. Where real gems, usually borrowed from their mothers or Grandmothers, would be replacing rhinestones.

 

Still very youthful looking despite her twenty something age, Angie’s first attempt was an upscale dance she had come across while out about in a neighboring city. It was held in an old ballroom for a local boy’s prep school and their dates. Figuring the girls attending would be ripe for the picking in tight gowns and loose fitting jewels, Angie stole inside for a closer look. The only obstacle was getting one of the begowned girls away from her group long enough to make a play for something of value that she was wearing.

  

But, Angie came away with nothing but valuable experience on that first attempt.

 

And it was actually her third try before she met with success in the form of a gold bracelet. It was at a formal dance being held in a large room of a rather posh hotel called the Red Lion Inn. She had gone in for a peek, and spying a pretty young thing heading for the ladies room, fell in step behind her. She was a long brown haired girl, wearing a short silk dress, blue, forming the perfect backdrop for her mouthwatering selection of shimmering gold jewellery. Waiting in a small alcove, Angie made her move as the young lady came back out the door. Bumping against her, Angie’s right hand held onto the youngster by the waist, drawing her close, as she steadied herself, apologizing. At the same time, Angie placed her left hand on the unsuspecting mark’s left wrist, easily flicking open the clasp of the thick gold etched bracelet and slipping it off and away. The young lady, accepting Angie’s apology, went on her way, and Angie, swiftly darted for the nearest exit, securing the rather overly brite bracelet in her bosum.

 

Over the spring and early summer dance seasons Angie practiced, acquiring bracelets and rings down pat using her skillfully developing fingers. She soon also was having some success with necklaces, including one with a long gold chain and a flower pendent set with a diamond carpel surrounded by ruby petals that had turned a quite tidy profit.

 

Then there had been the night of her first big haul, at a private girl’s school homecoming in Connecticut

 

She had started out by finally selecting and shadowing a young lady clad a slinky black dress, draped in her mother’s diamonds. Angie was drooling over a flashy wide glittering gemmed silver bracelet that hung loosely from the young vixen’s limp wrist. She was sure it was made up of real diamond chips. As the girl squirmed past Angie heading to the dance floor, her bracelet was easily plucked off the wrist of her black elbow length satin glove and secured deep in the bosom of Angie’s dress.

 

It was now becoming all too easy, smirked Angie as she unflappably headed out of the exit with her trophy. But, as she crossed the street, she was stopped by a hard looking Italian thug who emerged from the shadows. Angie at first thought wanted to mug her for her earrings, but it turned out he just wanted to see a girl who was inside attending the dance . He described her, and Angie, her interest growing, agreed to locate her and give her his message to meet him outside.

 

Angie went inside and soon found the girl. All her wishes had been answered. The unsuspecting lass was both richly gowned and even more richly jeweled, combined with zero common sense. This fidgeting girl had been seeing the young Italian on the sly, away from her disapproving family and friends. Angie led her out the back way, the opposite side of the Dance Parlor where the Italian was waiting in an alley.

 

Angie pointed across the street towards an entirely different Alleyway, offering to wait with her when the girl balked about going down it. As they waited, Angie fawned over the poor, beautifully adorned young innocent. Helping her straighten her luxurious gown, and helping her primp her long hair, so she would look just right for her east end Romeo. After waiting ten minutes, Angie instructed the girl to wait, while she went out and peeked down the street to see what was keeping her lover.

 

As she left, Angie stole a look back at the still primping young lass, eyeing her slinky gown, and remaining jewels, before heading off down the street, looking into her palm at the pair of long Garnet and diamond earrings that lay nestled, glittering fire there. She then placed them into a secret pocket, joining them with the girl’s small, expensive matching pendent, liberated as Angie had helped her negotiate a curb with her stiletto heels. Both pieces of the lass’s jewelry shared the same pocket with the wide silver bracelet encrusted with diamond chips that Angie had taken earlier..

 

More than once since then, Angie wondered if the ditzy, well jeweled girl ever had made it back out of that alleyway unscathed.

 

The experience had even more so whetted Angie’s appetite. So, even though she was still practicing on younger females, she was now dying to ply her trade upon mature women displaying the real McCoy.

 

***********************************************************

 

So it was with that in mind that Angie now watched, with itching fingers, the beckoning brooch. Though Angie was still unsure enough of trying her abilities on wealthy ladies who would not be as easily distracted as young girls, the timing felt right. As the lady recklessly displaying the brooch passed, her attention lost in the arms of her lover, Angie turned and followed, getting a close look first at the brooch and its pin, noting that it was not tightly clasped onto the gowns thin material.

 

As the couple headed to a table they passed two wealthy dames arguing vigorously with each other. Pricey rings flashing as they pointed fingers emphatically in each other’s face. On the side of table away from the pair, but near to Angie as she was passing by, lay a small, fat silvery clutch purse . Figuring that any dames loaded down with that many gems should be carrying a healthy wad of dosh in it, Angie, on the fly, took action.

 

As she passed she snatched it, and slipping it under her arm turned and headed towards the ladies powder room. Just before entering Angie looked back watching as the two still argued, gemmed rings flashing she had gotten away with it! Going into a stall she scrutinized the clutch for its valuables; disappointed to find only a fiver, some loose change, and a silky laced handkerchief. How cheap can you get she thought ruefully over the wasted effort? Hiding the clutch in the folds of her satin skirt, she left the stall, passing a lady applying makeup in a mirror. She was very pretty in a fluid teal gown, wearing dazzling white pearls upon her ears, neck and wrists. Something about this lady seemed familiar, and Angie’s senses started to sound an alarm. Catching each other’s eye, Angie nodded, but the lady appeared not to recognize Angie, nor Angie her, but the feeling still lingered. Angie left ,guardedly perplexed.

 

Angie went to the bar to have a drink while she thought about who the lady may have been. She was in a position to see the dance floor and she soon spotted the purple clad lady with the brooch Angie had her eye on, again in a deep embrace with her lover. The Brooch would be profitable, but risky as along as she stuck close with the Boyfriend. Angie needed a way to get him out of the picture for a while. It was as she considered several options to carry out the challenge that Angie again spotted the lady in teal , dancing with a tall red headed man. . Cold prickles like ice ran down her spine, It was the pearls! She suddenly remembered who the lady, and her dance partner were!

 

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Only 5 days ago she had been starting her third week operating in Calgary. She had been following a rather attractive, obviously wealthy woman, wearing an eye catching purple silk dress, carrying a dress bag and some smaller parcels. Close at her side was an unheeded calfskin purse. Alongside the lady was a smaller version, obviously her daughter, a girl of about 14. She was wearing a white shiny turtleneck with an equally shiny long tiered skirt. Both of her hands were occupied with department store bags also. When the ladies darted into a swanky hotel ,Angie had followed, she always had had luck in these types of establishments. They had entered a crowded lift and Angie had worked her way in behind the pair, riding up with them in the rickety contraption. Mother and Daughter got off on 12 and Angie stayed on until 15, exiting with not only the fat wallet from the calfskin purse, but also the shiny gold herringbone necklace that had been flashing from the daughter’s throat, securely in her pocket.

 

Angie decided to call it a day. She had already made about 30 dollars from wallets lifted at the department store she had been working over when she had spotted the mother and daughter at the checkout. The mother was paying from a thick wad of cash, and judging from the jewelry of both were an indication of how wealthy the family was. She had followed them out onto the street and it had paid off in spades. Now, all she had to do was find an exit. She saw a stairwell next to a slightly open door with a maids cart outside. She stopped and hovered over the cart to peer inside the room. It was at that moment a door opened on the opposite side of the hallway.

 

A red headed man in an open tux shirt came out of a room, looking at the cart, and Angie standing next to it. Seizing the opportunity, Angie quickly asked if he needed something. I was looking for a maid; I spilled some wine on the cashmere carpet. Seeing the name Bannister above the bell, she said sweetly, certainly Mr. Bannister, I can have someone take care of that for you.. I was just coming up to let you know there is an urgent message down at the desk for you. (Quick improvisation was a special talent of Angie’s.) Why didn’t you bring it, he started to snap, than , never mind, just get a maid, and he headed towards the elevator.

 

Angie picked up the towels and headed cautiously into the massive suite. From the bedroom off one side she heard running water. She looked around quickly, seeing many valuable articles, but nothing small enough to quickly conceal. She took the towels into the bedroom.

 

Angie went into the bedroom, expertly taking everything in. A long silver lamee gown lay out on the bed. On the vanity lay a silvery purse, a pair of long silver satin gloves , a silver watch, silver necklace, a pair of long dangling silver earrings, and a small blue velvet pouch. On a side dresser laid a man’s thick gold watch and a money clip with a wad of bills, a tenner showing on top. In less than a minute after entering the room she had scooped up the money clip, watches, silver jewelry and gloves stuffing them into the purse and lifting up her long skirt hid it in one of its secret pockets. She lifted up the pouch and found it was empty. A picture on the vanity showed an attractive lady in a black dress and pearls. She briefly wondered where the pearls were, did not see any likely spot, and so had turned to make a hasty exit, when a feminine voice called out from the bathroom where a shower could be heard running. Steam was coming out from the slightly ajar door.

 

Dear, a refined voice stated, I have soap in my eyes and cannot find the washcloth. Angie, smelling an opportunity, peaked her head around the corner into the steamy bathroom. There was a shower stall with glass doors at the end of the long room with a double sink running along the side. From the hook by the shower hung a peach negligee and matching long robe. The door was open slightly and a very soapy femine hand was reaching out trying to feel along a towel bar, just missing a hanging washcloth.

 

A soapy hand from which glittered a pretty gold pinky ring set with small diamonds. Angie went over and pulling off the washcloth, rapped on the glass door , receiving a thank you dear in return as the hand reached out for it. Angie wiped off the protruding hand, and a dry voice said, no, not my hand dear, as the washcloth was plucked playfully from Angie’s grasp , and the door closed. Angie bent down and picked up the diamond pinky ring that had been slipped from the showering woman’s finger by the wash cloth, from the carpeted floor underneath the shower door. she than turned ran a hand along the satin rode, looking around. Bingo, on the counter lay a pair of sparkly long diamond earrings. Dumbstruck at her luck she grabbed them off the sink. , she was jolted back to realty when the voice again called out, are you still there dear? She scurried out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

 

She was at the apartment door in a flash, opening it a crack to make sure the coast was clear, it was. In the hallway Angie headed for the stairs because she knew that Bannister was far too important a man to take a stairway. She had been in the apartment less than 4 minutes, and had probably looted it of enough valuables to more than double her take so far of the last three weeks since arriving in Calgary. Leaving by a back exit she came out of a small alley. Looking over she spotted the young lady whose necklace she had lifted in the elevator kneeling down and looking in some bushes. Her shiny skirt pleasantly splayed out upon the ground around her. Angie briskly walked past her and off down the street. She made it without incident to the dingy apartment she was renting by the day. Collecting her meager belongings Angie checked out immediately. Leaving by bus for Chestermere, where at a small bank she rented a safety deposit box to stash all her ill-gotten gains for safe keeping until the heat wore down a bit.

 

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Now Back to the Present

 

Angie now knew how lucky she had been. The red headed man, Bannister, may have recognized her. Calgary was too close to Chestermere , she should have been more cautious when scoping out the receptions guests. Angie turned and headed to the bar to think the situation over.

 

She saw the young man whose watch she had lifted, talking to an older, pretty lady laden with pearls. Behind them stood his sister, her diamond ring sparkling as she twirled her hair. Angie circled wide, coming up behind the lad, she grabbed his shoulder, why hello there. He smiled, introducing her to his Aunt, whose jeweled fingers she took into her hand in a gracious shake. He continued talking to his Aunt, it seems that they were discussing a family matter of some importance .Angie, finding the rings were tight on the Aunt’s chubby fingers, let go of her hand and moved over to the sister, and engaged her in conversation, moving a little off so that the sister turned her back to her brother and aunt.

 

The sister twittered, curling her hair impishly as Angie asked her why she wasn’t dancing. No ones asked, she giggled nervously. What about the boy who has been watching you all eyeing, Angie nodded her head outwards, the girl turned , her hair flying, as she lowered her hand, which Angie took up, petting it in a conspiratorial fashion, go over and ask him, Angie suggested. Go an ask him? I don’t see him she said, but I couldn’t, and she turned back to Angie, flashing her baby blues innocently. That’s okay deary, Angie patted the girl’s hand, keeping her eyes in contact, not allowing her to break the gaze, and perhaps looking down and noticing her loose ring was now gone from her slender finger. Angie took her leave of the sister, and of girl’s annoying nervously twittering giggle. Angie, slipping the diamond ring securely away, continued on until she reached a small alcove from where she could see most of the reception hall.

 

She lit a cigarette, purple silk and her desirably take able brooch was still safely out of reach on the dance floor, and Bannister’s attention was all on his wife. She thought it over, weighing her options, and the risks that were now in play. The song ended, and the dancers started to head off the floor. Angie’s eyes darted, Red headed Bannister and his wife were heading off to the far side of the room, Purple silk and her partner were heading to the bar. Angie’s heart stopped, no, Purple silk was heading to the bar, her lover was off to the men’s rest room. Angie snubbed out her cigarette, rising to the bait, it was now or never. Like a feral feline, Angie began to slowly stalk her prey.

 

But then Angie saw her chance slip through her fingers and evaporate into nothingness, like the smoke from her crushed cigarette. For at that moment an older man bumped into the lady Angie was tailing, spilling his drink down the front of her purple silk gown. Angie retreated and watched from a distance. As the man profusely apologized he produced a silk handkerchief and help wipe down the pretty lady. As he did so, the beautiful diamond broach vanished from her bosom. He had been slicker, slicker than Angie was ( for the time being) able to be. Angie felt her heart sink. Not only had she been deprived of the broach, but the existence of another member of her trade meant that she had better scram, not wishing to cross him. She could tell by the look in the man’s eyes that this was one not to be tangled with

 

Giving up on any plans she had been harboring, she got up, turned her back to the dance floor, headed as quickly as she could to the far exit, keeping her gains, and cutting her (presumed) losses.

 

Angie reached the door without challenge, opening it, she found stairs leading into the Church above. But first she stole a look back. She observed the man suavely talking to the now brooch less lady wearing purple silk. In that second a long haired (ginger) young lady passed by him, wearing a slinking green satin dress. Angie saw the man watching her walk on bye, and then immediately took his leave of purple silk, and began following the perky girl in green satin, with her savory collection of loosely dangling silver jewelry, heavily encrusted with flickering emeralds.

 

Angie turned away, and while wondering how she had failed to have spotted that prime prey in green earlier, went to the stairs.

 

She went up the stairs, coming out into a small chapel in back of the church. A door led to the outside, which Angie took, pouting inwardly, feeling all the world like a child who had been deprived of a desirable toy. She found herself on the side leading down to the Garden from which she had entered. The Church was now in between Angie and the reception, so she felt free to move unobserved. She crossed over to the gardens entrance and headed down the hill.

 

In front of her was a hedgerow, on the other side, Angie knew, was the small field with benches that lay at the entrance to the gardens proper. It was coming from there that she head the voices of children playing, on the other side, but she paid no heed, her mind was on leaving the area.

 

As she hurried along the hedgerow she saw something sparkle expensively in the sunlight through one of the gaps in the hedges. She stopped and curiously looked through a small opening. That’s were all the young darlings have been hiding she remarked to herself, her interest peaking. Forgetting all about leaving and lost opportunity of the brooch, she now focused on the new “toy” now dangling its enticement to her. It belonged to a girl in a slithering silvery gown, with her long hair done up in a long plait. Angie eyed the girl’s sparklers, which Angie first took as all rhinestones.. But, as Angie took inventory, her eye focused on a ring that she was wearing on one of her petite fingers. It held a fiery display, diamonds and rubies. There was no way the ring was rhinestone. Looking around to access the situation, Angie decided that by hook or crook, she needed to get a better look.

 

Watching the colourfully gowned young ladies innocently at play, Angie mused over the golden opportunity just waiting for someone unscrupulous to acquire the jewelry they were wearing. Someone should make them aware Angie decided, surprised that no one older than 16 was watching over them. Knowing that the scene before her was too fertile an opportunity to pass up without at least a long glance, Angie looked around, making sure no adults were about unseen in the woods, or any other nook and cranny of the play area.

 

Angie had found she had a knack for capturing young, well dressed lady’s interest, much to her amusement, and profit! It was with this in mind that Angie decided to allow herself a few precious minutes to watch from her hidden opening to see what may transpire. There were six children, four young ladies who were obviously dressed for a wedding, and the two urchin boys of about 12 and 10 she had spotted earlier. They were dressed as the local poor farm boys they obviously were. Angie quickly overheard the names of the girls as they called out to one another. .

 

The group were playing, appropriately enough for Angie’s point of view, a children’s standard game of cops and robbers. All Angie could think about, as she watched the boys with exuberance chasing and holding the giggling, squirming girls, was that there would hopefully be no actual robbing of jewelry as the game was played out. As each girl, Angie quickly memorizing their names, was ”captured” and taken to “prison”, Angie was able to scope them out at leisure.

 

The youngest Cecilia, about six, was wearing a long smooth gown of deep cream, with a midnight black bolero style jacket of velvet. From her neck was happily swaying a long silver chain with a jeweled winged beetle pendent, her jacket was home to a matching pin.

 

Cecilia’s older sister, 10 year old Claire, was wearing a puffy blue satin blouse with a long bow dancing down the front. Her long skirt of glistening black flowed in ripples as she ran. Also moving in ripples were the long gold herringbone chains she wore dangling from her neck, as were also her matching earrings and bracelet. A thick, expensively shiny gold ring encircled her middle finger.

 

Claire’s friend, Abbey, of about the same age, was wearing a longish gown of sunset pink satin, with a white satin sash encircling her waist. At the center of the sash glistened a gold pin set with pearls. Around her throat, dangling from her ears, were glimmering white pearls.

 

The oldest girl, the one in charge, was a fourteen year old named Amanda. Young and flighty, she kept looking up into the voluminous white clouds in the sky as if trying to see what they were forming. She was dressed in a longish slithering silver princess style gown, the style one may see flowing along the shapely figure of an actress at the moving picture awards ceremony. A fancy necklace with large garnet stones and small diamonds was flapping against her chest as she ran. The necklace matched her long earrings, bracelet, along with her pretty ring. She was wearing a flashy red jeweled head band , with strings of gold and rhinestones interwoven into her long plait of naturally wavy chestnut hair. The head band was all rhinestone, as were the garnets in the rest of her jewels. But what from a distance appeared to be small diamonds in her matching set that separated the garnets, were actually ¼ caret diamonds. Angie, upon realizing this, felt her heart burning with desire at acquiring a piece of the set being so vulnerably dangling from Amanda’s slickly attired person. But a couple of ripping gold herringbone chains, or even a jeweled beetle pendent flicked from a velvet jacket would be nice to acquire also, if only for the practice benefits.

 

To Angie’s secret joy, Amanda was the last girl to be captured, only because a stone lodged itself in her shoe brining her up lame. She was held by one of the boys, and lead, limping, to the other two girls. As a new game was started, she sat out. She hobbled to a nearby stone bench, brushed herself off , watching the group play before removing her shoe to find the annoying stone.

 

Angie started to make her move even before Amanda had made it to the stone bench. She reached her as she was shaking her shoe, slipping up alongside her on the cool bench. The girl jumped, but Angie’s special (practiced!) smile soon won her over. Angie soon enticed the young thing into casual conversation, extracting useful information as Angie, feigning a cheerful interest on the outside, while studying the girls expensive gown and drooling over the glistening garnet and diamonds that adorned it on the inside.

 

Angie tried to direct Amanda’s attention to her young charges, commenting about their pretty baubles, then asking who the boys were, and how well they knew them, about who suggested the game they were playing, how robbers were attracted to pretty things you know, and, were the boys playing the robbers next? Surreptitiously trying to plant seeds of distrust in the immature girls mind, and Angie could see that those seeds had found rich soil. Her intention was to keep the girl distracted long enough for a go at acquiring her necklace.

 

Angie, not unlike a feral cat, waited patiently for her opportunity to take the necklace from the unassuming Amanda to arise. But the girl was not cooperating; her attention on the playing girls lasting for mere seconds before focusing it back on Angie. Angie decided to use a different tactic. Angie placed an arm around girl’s silken shoulder and pointed up into the fluffy white clouds, asking her if she could see what Angie saw.

 

In the clouds, Amanda asked? As she leaned back into Angie who drew her close, relishing in the silky , quite scintillating feel of the child’s slick gown. No, Angie thought unkindly, you silly rich twit, the clasp of your necklace is what I see ( her fingers snaked up the backside of the sleek silver gown towards the tantalizingly easy open able clasp). The one you are about to lose to me, she continued thinking before answering the girl.

 

But seconds later, when Angie did answer, it was with a sweet motherly tone that dripped honey. Yes dear, in the clouds, doesn’t that one look like a soldier, or perhaps a highway man on a horse she inquired to Amanda? No, I think it’s a prince answered Amanda, and Angie thought , not for the first time, about the power of suggestion, for the mass of clouds looking like absolutely nothing but a mass of clouds to her!

 

But, it was an opportunity opened, and as the guileless girl was happily lost in her thoughts, Angie began to lift the clasp into position. As the necklace move up the girls chest, Angie could see its jewels, all sparkly, as the sun came back, peeking through the clouds. But Angie was not the only one who noticed, for the oldest lad who had been stalking up on the youngest sister’s hiding spot, was attracted by the sparklers now flashing around the distracted girl’s throat.

  

The boy headed towards them, and Angie’s fingers retreated. As the girl noticed the boy approaching, she gave a nervous giggle, and placed a hand to her throat. Angie began to rise from the bench, feeling the opportunity was slipping away, for the second time that day. But she hesitated a minute, and she was glad she did.

  

The boy came up and asked Amanda if she was going to play again. He was openly gawking at the necklace Amanda was nervously fiddling as he spoke, and Angie drooled to herself, you dear sweet child. For She could feel Amanda pressing hard into Angie as if seeking protection from his eyes. Angie took action, pointing out the sister the boy had been stalking. Successful diverting the boy’s attention, she sent him after the girl.

  

Maybe it was the things Angie had been feeding the girl about strangers and playing robbers, or pointing out the highway man in the clouds, but the attention to her necklace by the lad had had an obvious effect on Amanda. Angie, seizing the opportunity, exploited it to the fullest. With an Epiphany like thought, she knew what to say, and do next. And if it worked, then Amanda’s necklace would not be the only bauble acquired by old Angie girl.

  

Angie shooed the lad away, and he left, reluctantly to rejoin the game in progress. Then, in an inspired bit of deceitful storytelling, Angie related to Amanda a sad tale about an incident in her childhood, one she made up on the spot. The girl listened, still cuddling for whatever reason, as Angie stroked her enticingly attired figure down, relishing in the softness of her gown, along with admiring jewels she was so intent on acquiring. It was not often in Angie’s line of work that she was able to really check out one of her victims in this manner, and she relished every minute of it.

  

As Angie went full bore into her tale of woe ,she lifted up the attractive necklace from pretty girl’s chest, as she chokingly told the youngster that when she was her age she had been playing dress up in one of her mother’s gowns and had put on some of her mother’s jewelry without her permission.

  

Angie than took up the girl’s slender hand into hers, fingering gently the pleasingly expensive ring , seeing tin the young ladies eyes that she had struck a chord, and Amanda was totally held captivated with her story. Angie continued on… She had gone outside and over to the playground where a group of older children had convinced her to play a game of cops and robbers. When they had been done playing and Angie had gone home, she discovered some of her mother’s pretty jewelry was missing.

  

Angie noticed with satisfaction that as she was reaching the end of her story Amanda had stiffened, her heart started beating faster, and she started to check over her own jewelry. Your mother’s than, Angie drooled to herself, she had nailed it on the head. Carpe Diem Angie said to herself, throwing all caution to the wind.

  

Cops and robbers? That’s the game the boys are having us play, Amanda questioned with visible concern. As she was making this statement, Angie saw with satisfaction Amanda’s open mouth gasping as her eyes went to the boys who were now high in a tree, innocently unaware of what they were underhandedly being accused of eventually attempting to do ( steal the young girls jewelry)!

  

The two Boys had spotted a bird’s nest and where trying to see if it had eggs as the sisters watched them, backs to the bench where Amanda and Angie sat. Seeing the coast was clear, Angie quickly acted, before her story lost its effect over Amanda. Angie produced the purloined silver purse and pulled out the silky handkerchief. She spread the handkerchief out on Amanda’s silken covered lap, setting the purloined purse down upon her own.

  

I really think you should put your jewelry somewhere for safekeeping. Why don’t you wrap it up in this handkerchief, you can keep it in my purse. I’ll lend it too you if you promise to bring it back to me when you get back to the reception. Amanda nodded wisely (those earrings were very pretty Angie told herself) , Angie’s heart went to her throat, the young innocent, abroad from the reception, had swallowed Angie’s deviously luring tactic. Here, Angie promised, I’ll start, and she took of her gilded earrings and laid them gently out upon the shiny white surface of the silk handkerchief. This way I won’t lose mine either, she confided in Amanda, who looked back at Angie with her innocently wide blue eyes.

  

Amanda now showed no inhibitions while reaching up and removing her glittery necklace, laying it gently out upon the handkerchief. It was soon followed by rings and bracelet. Removing the headband and rhinestones chains, undoing her plait in the process, her long hair flowed down her back in curls. It curled up as she laid it upon the ever growing, sweetly glimmering, pile. Then she flung back her long hair and undid the screw backs of her flashy earrings, placing them on top of the heap. Angie’s heart began beating faster as she realized she was going to get away with this! Aw, she thought, as the last of Amanda’s expensively glittering jewels was added to the already glistening pile, wealthy children are so adorably cute when they are being gullible.

  

When Amanda finished, Angie looked down upon the glittering mound, unbelieving her luck. But then the unimaginable happened. Amanda, laying the handkerchief with its precious cargo on the bench next to her, stood and called back the two sisters and their young friend to the bench.

  

Angie held her breath as the girls, turned and dutifully ran up to her, the boys still high in the tree, paid no attention to them. Angie watched, almost salivating as the pretty darlings in their fluttering frocks came bouncing back, necklaces flinging in and out, obediently to Amanda’s call.

  

As they reached Amanda, she told them that they had better remove their jewelry for safe keeping. Why, Challenged Cecilia, with childish accusation? Amanda looked back at the boys in the tree, because I think you may lose them while you play, she scolded. We’re careful Cecilia retorted obstinately, as she looked from Amanda to her sister Claire. Amada looked at Claire, and lifting the girls gold necklace pointed her chin at the tree containing the two boys, and said, they will be the robber’s next game. Claire went wide eyed, and told Cecilia and Abby that they had better do as they were told.

  

Claire was closest, and with a nod from Amanda, unfastened her necklace and laid it out on the silky handkerchief. They were soon followed by her gold drop earrings, bracelet and ring. She started to back away still wearing her rhinestone hairclips. Don’t forget them… Angie started to say, but was cut off as Amanda told Claire to remove them, which she did promptly. Angie was glad she had been able to hold her tongue.

  

Cecilia was next. She approached Angie and Amanda, her long dress swishing richly as she came. She politely asked Amanda for help. Turning her back to Amanda she lifted up her long hair, Amanda remover her necklace and pin, laying them upon the growing shimmery pile. Cecilia removed her earrings and ring, happily placing them with the rest. Very pretty Angie said, admiring the dress, she lifted up the sleeve, admiring it, no bracelets, she whispered to herself, as she pulled the silky sleeve back ever so slightly.

  

Abby than approached, and quietly, obediently, unfastened her pearled necklace, and then removed her glistening matching earrings, and placed them all delicately upon the pile. Momma said to be careful with them, their Grand mama’s, she bleated sweetly, and Angie felt her heart skip several beats, suppressing an evil grin upon hearing those delicious words. Claire then helped Abby remove the pearled brooch from her satin sash.

  

Angie stood back, her heart had been pounding with cutting swords of mixed delicious pleasure and anticipation as, there on that sunlit church playground, the girls in swishy gowns, removed their valuables for “safe” keeping. She knew she now had to work fast, for there was an ever growing chance that an adult would show up from the reception and ruin Angie’s fun.

  

Angie than folded up the silk handkerchief, and in a classic bit of misdirection that would have made Gaston Monescu proud, appeared to place it inside the purse she was going to leave in the children’s safe keeping. But she actually palmed it, and slipped the bundle deep into her skirts pocket as she handed the purse over with her free hand. All three sets of eyes watching the purse, not what Angie’s other hand was doing.

  

Now go and have fun, Angie encouraged the girls as she handed the purse to Amanda. The youngsters seemed thrilled that they had an adult’s permission to keep on playing, and knowing that they would not be in danger of now being yelled at for possibly losing some of their pretty jewelry, they scurried off happily, in waves of whispery satin. Amanda stopped and gave Angie a hug before following the two sisters and their friend. The kind of hug that would have sealed the fate of any jewelry she may have still been wearing, and for which Angie did a double check for. Angie then watched Amanda run off, long gown fluttering out from behind her.

  

As the four girls rejoined the two boys, Angie slowly slinked away, melting into the woods. She allowed herself to smirk over how rewardingly gullible rich young girl’s in silky dresses ,wearing ripe for the plucking jewelry ,always proved to be.

  

Folle est l’agneau de la prune qui dans le loup avoue! She whispered to herself as she disappeared from the frolicking children’s sight.

  

She stopped suddenly as she reached a small clearing with the path leading to the rose covered arbor crossed. Not believing her eyes, as she unexpectedly saw below her fresh, opulently attired, prey.

  

A young couple was busily snogging in the garden the garden just ahead of Angie. As she looked over the pair of richly dressed pretty young things, she could not help but wonder if this couple had been in charge of watching over the children and had snuck away to be by themselves. She quickly ducked behind some bushes as the girl broke away, and with a come hither look, led her boyfriend through a rose covered arbor. Not a moment too soon, for the couple looked behind them, before crossing over the path and disappearing into the woods.

  

Angie cautiously snuck forward, and reaching the spot where they had disappeared into the woods, hears the girl giggling along with the unmistakable sounds of kissing. As the couple is otherwise occupied, Angie carefully moves into the woods. She spies the lad’s suit lying over some branches, and sees the shrubs moving underneath as the couple obviously have progressed now beyond kissing.

  

Angie spies something bright and shiny laying on the ground just in front of the shrub. She inches forward. It is the girls gown, laying spread out like a slick wet fluid purple pond , and there, in a nice neat pile, is the diamond jewelry she was wearing. Angie wonders what would have happened if some miscreant, or unscrupulous hobo were to stumble upon this scene. In her mind she reasoned that they would probably steal the jewels. So, why shouldn’t ole Angie be the one to acquire this one’s jewels also? Since she would probably be losing them anyway!

  

Angie reaches down and quietly pulls away the fluidly glossy gown, the silky material whispering along the grass as it moves. Angie keeps one ear on the couple just out of sight, the other listens for any noise on the path behind her that may betray her as she melts away back into the woods. Then, when she is a safe distance away, happily scoops up the girls small fiery diamonds. Picking up the gown she carried it back, hanging it from a limb just before leaving the path, she ran a hand along its enticing length, before leaving, snickering to herself the whole way.

  

Coup-Fourré, Angie thinks too herself as she regains the path, after carefully making sure no one else was about. Off in the distance she can just barely hear the children still at play. The purse where they innocently believed held their jewelry safe, she imagines still sitting on the bench. She thinks for a second about going back and lifting that purse, but decides not to push her luck, now that she had finally found some.

  

She once again pictured the beaming faces of the three young girls as they were being complimented on their shiny dresses by the pretty lady with the nice smile and gentle fingers as she carefully looked them over for anything missed that those nasty boys may try to take. Naively unaware that they had, in reality, been robbed of the precious gems that they had been convinced to remove for “safe keeping.”

  

Angie, for the first time, but not the last, imagined in her mind, what the children’s wide eyed astonishment would be like, they opened that sleek little purse , only to find the handkerchief had vanished! . And what the couple snogging about in the woods would make of the missing gown and jewels.

  

Editors notes:

 

Even though Angie related this story as having occurred on the same afternoon ,the chronicler felt she was keeping something back. It was never discover what, if anything had been. The answer may lie in the events unfolded above. It may be worth re-reading the story to see if anyone can pick up on it.

 

Folle est l’agneau de la prune qui dans le loup avoue!

 

Silly is the plump lamb to whom in the wolf confesses

 

Our Thanks to Mr Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide

 

*************************************************************************************

 

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

 

Certainly not the most fitting send-off for the last of our Gen 2 stock, better known as the silver trains, though a handful of enthusiasts made the last minute effort. Doing the honours last night were K90 & K61 on 39 run and K71 & K66 on 38 run.

 

Earlier that afternoon, Sydney Trains issued a Telegram stating that K set rosters would be cancelled from Tuesday, June 16 to Friday, July 17th (excluding weekends), with no replacement yet.

 

A bit more facts to deliver here (I say as if it's my job to educate the 10 people who read this on K sets) from a few comments on my Facebook post to the HET group, which shed a bit more light onto the reasoning for Sydney Trains' hasty decision to pull the plug on K sets so abruptly.

 

I don't think many people were aware (myself included) that 'popping' (breaking into the cab of the train) escalated from just a bit of vandalism and hanging out of the side to proper assaults on guards and security alike working/patrolling the train. Such events taking place the last few weeks without too much coverage from the media, though nobody was seriously hurt, thankfully. As soon as that happened, and with something a little less serious last week, it definitely would've accelerated an already limited life for K's.

 

So, though a bit underwhelming, Sydney Trains decided to quietly phase them out without attracting vandals to try to have a trophy train to target. The call was made yesterday afternoon (Monday, June 15, 2026) to AMEX all future runs from the following day through to Friday, July 17, 2026 (which I assume was their pencilled-in retirement date), which is another piece of the puzzle. A timetable change will take effect on Monday, July 20th, effectively writing out the K sets. So there you have it.

 

C3512 at the front of K66 & K71 tailing, ready to depart Leppington as 39-G empty cars to Flemington Maintenance Centre after working the final revenue service by a K set and in turn, 2nd generation suburban trains, with one of the many B-sets watching on working 14-K to the city.

 

Tata and farewell, rest in pieces, Ridgies.

 

C3512 K66-K71 SydneyTrains 39-G x 14-K Leppington 15-6-26

It's a pleasant surprise to learn that this Brown-Chested Martin is also on the ABA checklist as a code 5 North American species.

  

This is basically a South American species....READ MORE.

 

Disclaimer: I understand many people think that American species should only be counted when they are seen on American soil. I certainly respect that reasoning.

 

When I started counting species almost 10 years ago I had stated on my profile that " I will count birds species as N. American as long as they are on the ABA checklist ; regardless of where I'd captured them.

But I shall not count them unless they are flying....(Please read my profile.)

 

Thank you for your understanding.

  

Captain Obvious: "The new Ford GT is LOW!"

 

—Ford GT

 

I might change the aero buttresses using the configuration found on my GTE version, as I believe the lines flowing over the roof to the rear area is better realized, with a greater sense of ability which the real GT conveys so well at a stand-still.

 

My reasoning is that I started this model by using my original street version as a jumping-off point, then I adapted the racing variant out of the result. There's always stuff that gets changed or reverted during that process; also, other bits look better when complimented by nearby areas of the car (such as the shorter buttresses looking good after I added the wing to the GTE). I guess I just couldn't help trying out these corner tiles on the leading edge! 😁

 

It's always those little things that nag at me! I may even take another rebuild a step further by using the F1 as a baseline. Thinking...

www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/137299000?ref=studio-promote

lacking sense or clear, sound reasoning.

 

When else can you open the gate?

 

I couldn't resist taking this snap of a sign on a local gate.

"The mind is the voyager of journeys, the center of questioning, the conjurer of fear, the seed of desire, the door of compassion, the creator of joy." - Larry Kirkland, Sculptor.

 

This is the CROET (Center for Research on Occupational and Environmental Toxicology) sculpture located on the campus of OHSU. Created out of marble by artist Larry Kirkland in 1993, it rests upon a plinth that depicts "images from throughout the ages and diverse cultures of the world".

 

Half Head, as it's often referred to, sits in a square surrounded by research buildings. The staff within these buildings work on very left brain ideas that stem from logic, critical thinking, numbers, and reasoning.....yet Vita Mensae is only a right brained. Is he meant to create balance, or maybe he represents the gathering of people and creative ideas in the square?

 

Here, his bald head has been dusted with snow and he is probably thinking, "Damn it's cold out. Can somebody grab me a hat?"

 

Image with my Hasselbald 500cm.

Built for the WINTER GOURD PARTY

 

THEME: JET

 

Technology vs nature, this is the future of hog hunting. A battle between the tools of man and the abilities of animals, is quite the epic duel to behold. As such I have picked the song Duel in the mist from Genshin impact to be this builds theme song. The mysterious melody and high energy convey the hunt and struggle for survival. You are whisked away into this story. Will The Jet Powered Robot catch The Hog, or will the hog escape using it’s attuned reflexes? It truly is an uncertain duel, almost as if it is shrouded in mist…

 

Quests:

A New New Low - Include a weeb (touhou preferred) theme song for your build (must provide reasoning in min. 100-word short answer).

Dual Degree - Build must consist of 2 or more fully-realized characters (no mini-scale figures).

 

Sabotages:

Full Disclosure - Back of moc cannot be left unfinished (Back shot required, no editing out stands)

The Ol’ Switcheroo- Switch 2 parts of your build and keep them that way (Switch arms and legs).

Meet The New Guy- Forced to use a part (Piraka Stars Spine).

Whoops!- Stress test video required.

   

An everyday scene at Sandaoling open cast coal mine sees JS locomotives loading up with coal in the distance next to the loader on the right (smoke plume) and the excavator on the left. Meanwhile, another JS makes its way out of the pit to the wash plant with another load of coal. There is one exception though. The train is travelling along the down line usually used by trains pushing empty hoppers to the loading bay. Due to a coal fire in the old eastern part of the pit, the train had to use the down line to exit the pit, whilst the up line on the right was being used by another JS hauled train to collect spoil to smother the fire (out of sight).

 

How long such scenes will continue is uncertain but it’s pretty much “last rites” for steam in China. We were told that management were meeting at the end of March to determine the fate of the steam engines. There is talk the trains will be replaced by a fleet of mining trucks to haul the coal. Personally, I can’t understand the reasoning for this. It seems to me it would be far more sensible to continue to use the railway until the mine reserves are near depletion in a couple of years time. But I would say that. We will soon know.

 

A week ago I joined Lands of Roawia (Merlin's Beard Forum) and here's my character!!:

 

Name: Nox

Gender: male

Species: Exiled Elf

Faction: Outlaws

Nox was exiled from his Lenfald elf kingdom because of an incident he never talks about. Certainly has something to do with magic. Without any sense of belonging to a nation, which is not very common for an elven foe, He joined the Outlaws for acceptance travelling from region to region of the most mysterious and unknown places of the Magic Island and Badlands. His skills in History and his sense of logic allowed him to work as a personal investigator for those who need his services. Still, most of the time he'll be on his own practicing alchemy, magic and identifying new species.

 

He may act blindly in some situations for some, but in fact, he's reasoning like no others will. His wandering past may had affect him in what we can call a light madness or a totally misunderstood intelligence. The equality and the liberty between races have always been an important concerning to defend for him.

 

Just then, Timothy joined them downstairs, borrowing Don’s tennis shoes to take his dogs outside.

 

“Good morning, Emily. Guess what: I know what I have to do!” he exclaimed.

 

Emily prepared herself for another one of Timothy's spontaneous ideas.

 

“This whole weekend, this little place has felt like home. I played Scrabble with Elizabeth in the kitchen, slept in an actual bed upstairs, enjoyed the feel of my dogs and friends all fitting in this little living room. I’m moving in.”

 

Emily paused, wanting to be sure Timothy understood what moving did and didn’t mean: “You understand the structure will stay here – you can’t transfer to Room 2. We have no room for you.”

 

“Yes. I’m always going to be a Room 1 doll, but this feels like home. We all made memories here -- and it’s a plastic structure just like Jeffrey and Chrissy live in. I want a little piece of their happiness.”

 

“Oh brother,” Emily sighed.

 

Despite his skeptical reasoning, Emily was hopeful that maybe the two people she had to worry about the most had come to some decisions during this visit.

 

Following the apparent popularity of my picture of an Inter-City 125 power car at St Pancras, I have revived an image from the adjacent Kings Cross. My reasoning remains the same. A lot has changed in the more than 30 years since 43056 stood at the London terminus. I think both the trolleys to the left and the van to the right (a generator van?) are of interest also.

 

Another geotgagging masterstroke from Flickr places this picture incorrectly

 

822808 - crop

LOCATION:- Eastleigh.

DATE 2.06.2018

Running as a four car unit rather than the usual five. Does anyone know the reasoning behind this, if any others have run as four car units, dates etc ?

 

XYZT is an immersive art exhibition comprised of 10 interactive virtual environments generated using math and physics models. In a darkened gallery, guests use their own movement and gestures to interact with light in a series of digital landscapes inspired by nature. Specific sensations, such as walking in the grass or putting your hands into the sand, are transposed into abstract, sensory encounters with lines, dots and letters.

 

XYZT creators Adrien Mondot and Claire Bardainne, French artists/performers/computer scientists, describe the installations as "a journey through nature revisited." Each letter in "XYZT" identifies the movement of a point in space - horizontal (X), vertical (Y), depth (Z) and time (T). The experience melds playful exploration with scientific reasoning, as each installation is accompanied by a video label on the nature of the underlying physical behavior, complete with excerpts from related dance performances.

 

ok so this custom was a pain I the butt. The helmet gave me a lot of trouble. Also before you say it's to rusty etc. Here's my reasoning I based this off if the armor was either submerged or had been through many storms, also its over 200 years old so weather and time have taken this suit over. Now I did make it so you could put a fusion core in, which I think is cool. On to the helmet, let me say I made like 6 different helmet sculpts. Yeah the helmet was a big problem only because I wanted it to look like the real thing. The Fatman hasn't been finished but ob will start painting it after this is posted or sometime later. All I have to do is finish up my vault tec rep and maybe a deathclaw. I will be posting more shots of the armor suit today so stay tuned! Also this is inspired by brickzalive I probably wouldn't have made mine if he didn't so thank you brickz.

Hello Everybody! BNTM c5 Auditions are officially OPEN!

With Peyton Chance as your host and judge! But….she can’t do it alone, so she brought in some help! The wonderful top model-in-training Anastasia Emerald!

 

Now, here are the RULES:

1. NO fighting. Drama between dolls is OK, but nothing personal!

2. NO stealing photos! Need we explain our reasoning?

3. Three strikes and you’re out. If you don’t hand in your photo three times, does NOT matter if it’s consecutive or not, then you are disqualified. We want dedicated models to be in this!

4. Hand in your photos on time! Since this is going to be a collab-BNTM, deadlines are going to be extra important because we will both have to schedule our time accordingly. If you hand in your photo late, it just messes everything up.

5. NO changing models. Unless your model is damaged, don’t even ask! If you’re going to get bored with your model, then don’t use her in the first place.

6. Bratz only! That means no Bratzillaz!

7. Do not put your photos on private unless you’re told to, and always tag me (BratzRLife13) and MellyMelonMole in your photos each week.

8. Poseable bodied Bratz only please! Movie bodies and Party/Catz/Rock bodies are preferred.

 

AUDITION REQUIREMENTS:

 

-Plain white background

-Fullbody shot

-Eyecontact (preffered)

-Outfit of your style

-Hair tied up in any style

 

Make sure to have all of the following in the DESCRIPTION:

 

-Name

-Age

-Style

-Personality

-Why they should be in the competition

-Hometown

-Currently Living

 

We both hope to see lots of different personalities and unique looks! Have fun and Good Luck!:)

 

Auditions close JULY 1ST!

 

Auditions:

1. Charile: www.flickr.com/photos/119129024@N05/13909833809/in/photos...

2. Gladis Marron: www.flickr.com/photos/sailorcrystel/13910398278/

3. Raven Thomasina: www.flickr.com/photos/86305693@N04/14095339372/

4. Bethany Weston: www.flickr.com/photos/88102708@N07/14118868833/

5. Tulisa Keen: www.flickr.com/photos/93280992@N05/14101144641/

6. Hazel Adams: www.flickr.com/photos/87808124@N06/14148473165/

7. Daisy Collins: www.flickr.com/photos/mhperfectlyimperfect/14171330723/

8. Cole Peterson: www.flickr.com/photos/janeenf/13966230369/

9. Freya Cardoso: www.flickr.com/photos/craftasticmess/14170032241/

10. Marie-Andre Mothee: www.flickr.com/photos/v1cthepurplejagerbomb/14036605129/

11. Remira Leighton: www.flickr.com/photos/eatmycookies125/14253318603/

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Here's a shot from my first stop motion film!

 

vimeo.com/143329812

 

"Reasoning of the 3rd Kind"

  

Entry for Sam K Bricks' 'Elseworld JLA' contest. It is - obviously - a Star Wars/JLA-mashup. Hope you enjoy them ;)

 

Sorry for the following very long text, but when I let my thoughts arise... well... you can see the result. :D

 

I've made "Brac To-maz Warn, Jedi Master of Bats" already at the time when Catman from the Batman-Movie-CMFs first came out and always wanted to get the whole team StarWarsified. I'm quite happy with what came out of it and that Sam K Bricks gave me a reason through his contest, to finally do this.

Not to brag, but in the end I couldn't even tell you, which one I like the most, they came out much better than expected. :D

 

By the way: in my photostream there are pictures of each one seperately, if you want a closer look at them.

 

__________

 

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

 

It is a period of civil war.

Rebel metahumans, the LEAGUE

OF REBELS, striking

from a hidden base, have won

their first victory against

the evil Empire of Doom.

 

During the battle, Rebel

spies managed to steal secret

plans to the Empire's

ultimate hideout, the HALL

OF DOOM, an armored space

station with enough power to

destroy an entire planet.

 

Pursued by the Empire's

sinister agents, Princess

Diana races home aboard her

starship, custodian of the

stolen plans that can save

her people and restore

freedom to the galaxy....."

 

The League of Rebels consists of specialised Metahumans, which try with their respective strenghts to assist the Princess on her cause.

 

Nautolan King

Since his home planet Glee Anselm is completely covered in water, the king of its inhabitant race, the Nautolans, is naturally stronger than for example humans ever could be. In the already long war against the Empire, he lost his right arm. Through hard training, strong willpower and his special ability to control water, he is able to control a liquid arm, which can shapeshift as he sees fit.

 

Gungan Manhunter

Considered an alien between aliens, this Gungan was forcefully exiled. This drastic but understandable act made him reconsider his life so much, that he became a telepath. This forced evolution caused him to find people, who could make use of his "talents" of disturbing other peoples minds. With the rebels now he gets send to missions to distract the enemy so much, that most of them try to end their own lifes. Thats why he is the only member who totally doesn't need any weapons...

 

Green Saber

Ha'al Jo-daan is a member of a galactic control force, specialised in close and ranged combat fights against other force users. Gifted with a modified light saber, which can be controlled by the users willpower and in that way shapeshift in any size and form, he are able to overcome Darksides elite forces.

 

Brac To-maz Warn, Jedi Master of Bats

Seeing his parents getting slaughtered by the Lord of Darkside, he swore to avenge them by defeating this threat to the galaxy. At first the Jedi council was against this violent reasoning, but since he was strongly supported by the councils leader, Ra-za Gruuhl, and also having a strong connection to the deeper connections inside the force, he got trained and reached after a short amount of time higher levels and a deeper understanding of the force than any of his masters.

 

Princess Diana of Themyscaraan

Adopted by the royal family of Themyscaraan and with the gifts of their gods, she is able to withstand even heavy physical attacks and is highly trained in dual wielding the modified rebel blasters. Combined with her force shiled bracers it is nearly impossible to land a hit on her with any kind af attack.

 

Count El

After his home planet was destroyed by the empire, Kal-o El with all his anger became an easy target for the Darkside (get it?). After he was trained in sith fighting styles, he found an old Holocron with a message of his parents, wich led him back to the righteous ways. He now fights in a symbiotic way of dark and light and thus is a nearly unstoppable force!

 

Cy-B-0

The half human half droid is not only the only being in the known galaxy, which can speak every existing language, he also can fight using his highly enhanced body. With the help of his right arm cannon he can can strike down even Star Destroyers with just one well targeted shot.

 

Bar-y Alehn, Jedi Master of Lightning

Gifted with a strong connection to the force, Alehn was already trained in the Jedi ways from a young age. While trying to enhance his light saber to a lightning saber, he miscalculated the final energy consumed, so that he was stroke by his collapsing saber. He survived only through channelling the lighning through his whole bodies cells and can use this to reach incredible fighting speed, which not even Count El could nearly catch up to.

 

Green Blast

Exiled from his home, Orlivah Cueehn got lost on a jungle planet where he needed to acuire extreme hunting skills, so that he can survive the attacks of the 20 meter high jungle giants.

After he was finally rescued by a group of professional hunters, he bought the best equipment credits could buy and is now known to be the galaxies best user of the green light bow and laser arrow.

To me, it would seem that a dandelion bloom would be somehow different than this. I think that it's because a dandelion's fibers are all so scattered, at first glance, that it seems unlikely that they start out so orderly. Then the reasoning kicks in that dandelions use air dispersal to get their offspring away from the parent plant. Of course, then, there isn't a random combination of structures. They must be grown specifically to take advantage of being both light and fluffy.

 

Still with me? Gone to take a snooze?

[Digital Painting — Prints best within 45 x 50 cm / 17 x 20 inches]

 

Like many German First World War airmen, Lothar von Richthofen, the Red Baron's younger sibling, had a very superstitious nature about him. Lothar quite conspicuously began his military career by flying into battle with a lucky riding crop at his side in the cockpit. So it was, until older brother Manfred saw fit to convince him to trade in the equestrian accoutrement for his very own pair of "lucky" leather flying gloves. The reasoning being, if the gloves brought older brother good luck, they would do the same for him. Perhaps they did at that, as Lothar not only survived a monumental case of triskaidekaphobia but also survived the war itself, with a total of 40 aerial victories, no less; exactly half his brother's tally.

 

Glückliche Landungen,

  

Codi von Richthofen,

The Red Baron Gallery ©

Waiting, again, for TD Julia to make Landfall. Thought we would get out for a bit before the blow starts.

The reasoning of the title is this was taken December 2020 during a time of major political turmoil, mail disruptions, and Covid-19 mortality. But this was also the final winter for this once elegant mansion of Connellsville. It was demolished by excavator on July 9th & 10th 2021. Built sometime in the late 1800's, this Italianate styled home had four bedrooms, 11 total rooms, fireplace, 2 1/2 floors, and 3,104 square feet. The original owner was noteworthy local physician / businessman Dr. Ellis Phillips and his wife Ada McIlvaine. After Dr. Phillips retired from practice in 1902, they moved away to Columbus, Ohio. The history after that becomes a little more cloudy. There was a long list of owners including a Bailey family. It spent the last few decades unoccupied. The last owner Rodney Allen, attempted some renovations to keep the exterior up to code, but a full rehab was never completed. The house and land was sold for $199, 900. Still well above the appraised value of $50,000 in the condition it was in. Future plans call for AriRoryMilo Enterprises to build a three- or four-story structure with possible office / retail / restaurant space. At least it will not be another empty lot.

maisons jaoul, neuilly-sur-seine, paris, france, 1951-1955 (initial sketch project 1937).

architect: le corbusier, charles-édouard jeanneret, 1887-1965.

 

I am in over my head here, but when I see a piece of poetic brutalism, like the jaoul houses, I always think of ruskin, and his essay on the nature of gothic. ruskin, one of the best and strangest minds of the 19th century, developed a theory of gothic architecture without wasting too much space on mere stylistic elements. instead he proposed six mental categories, attempting to explain the psychology, values and even the society behind gothic art. they were: savageness, changefulness, naturalism, grotesqueness, rigidity, and redundancy - or, as he begins to explain,

 

'these characters are here expressed as belonging to the building; as belonging to the builder they would be expressed thus :1. savageness or rudeness. 2. love of change. 3. love of nature. 4. disturbed imagination. 5.obstinacy. 6.generosity.'

 

by talking about gothic architecture as an ideal, while leaving out the physical characteristics art history would usually focus on, ruskin was really telling us about the potential of architecture, and in a way the nature of gothic was a manifesto like le corbusier's later vers une architecture, while pretending to be something else.

 

not surprisingly, the bad guys in the nature of gothic were the classicists. classical ornament, ruskin claimed, was repetetive because it was meant to be produced by slaves. in gothic ornament, on the other hand, the artisan was allowed to express himself, he was respected as an individual, and that was more important than any degree of perfection achieved through repetition.

 

once again, ruskin was clearly not talking about the middle ages, or at least not only talking about the middle ages. anyone reading this in 1853 would recognize the problems of industrialisation and capitalism in britain. and indeed, following his essay on the gothic, ruskin increasingly freed himself from the christian reasoning that mars much of his architectural writing and became more of a social commentator.

 

le corbusier played an important part in drawing the great 19th century divide between classicism and gothic into modern architecture. his white villas of the 1920's carried an air of cool, abstract classicism and his writings promoted typological thinking as the basis for industrial production of architecture. aggressive politics in the CIAM and in publishing supported this. the architects whose work did not fit in were labelled expressionist and rejected, but ruskinian had perhaps been a better word for what qualities they shared.

 

the great delay in the arrival of modern architecture as compared to the other arts meant that it coincided with the neo-classical reaction to modernism in general. this may go some way towards explaining why modernism in architecture proved less liberating than what had been experienced in literature or music. and it had everything to do with architecture's dependency on power. only the crisis in europe following the first world war made modern architecture needed. hence le corbusier's battle cry, architecture or revolution, which was never an offer intended for the working classes.

 

of course, dismissing le corbusier's early work makes no sense, they are great buildings in their own right. but policing modern architecture the way it was done, limiting what modern architecture could be, was a terrible mistake. in this light, le corbusier's post-war brutalism can be seen as an effort to recover some of the lost freedom, even a return to the ruskinian riches of the very earliest modernism which he had sought to suppress. hugo häring, one of le corbusier's opponents of the 1920's, certainly thought so. when he saw L.C.'s post-war work, he felt vindicated.

 

le corbusier was not alone in making this move - think of alvar aalto's red brick buildings from the same period - but his standing in the architectural community made his contribution to brutalism all the more important. the progeny of the jaoul houses include buildings by the smithsons and the late churches by sigurd lewerentz. a liberation had indeed taken place.

 

to my mind, ruskin described the promise of brutalism best a full century before the event,

 

'see if it looks as if it had been built by strong men; if it has the sort of roughness, and largeness, and nonchalance, mixed in places with the exquisite tenderness which seems always to be the sign-manual of the broad vision, and the massy power of men who can see past the work they are doing, and betray here and there something like disdain for it. If the building has this character, it is much already in its favour; it will go hard but it proves a noble one.'

 

of course, he thought he was writing about the nature of gothic.

 

this photo was uploaded with a CC license and may be used free of charge and in any way you see fit.

if possible, please name photographer "SEIER+SEIER". if not, don't.

A shadowy take on the instantly recognizable bullseye logo of Target Corp. Created in 1962, the reasoning behind the choice was explained "As a marksman's goal is to hit the center bulls-eye, the new store would do much the same in terms of retail goods, services, commitment to the community, price, value and overall experience." Target Canada recently announced it will be closing all of its Canadian stores even faster than originally planned.