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... because he has only one 'shoulder stripe'.
Small Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) on the log at Teal Pond, Thomson Marsh, Kelowna, BC.
I have come across this plant which bursts into beautiful white blossom at the end of March on the Shimla-Chandigarh road as well as in some corners of Shimla.Each individual blossom is tiny and clusters of them cover the long branches.It looks as if the whole plant is covered with wreaths of delicate white lace and is a truly beautiful sight..It is difficult to photograph because the blossom-laden branches keep swaying in the slightest breeze.I have done my best and I hope my friends like it.:-)
..because it's never too early when you are an Holiday doll...You know, everyone is kinda expecting something special from you:o)
Because of you the tears dead in my eyes,they freeze until I’m blind the eyes a gift from you...
Because of you the winter feeds my heart while summer blows and burns
Because of you I’ll never feel again the agony of pain
Because of the great fire wall of Chinese policy, it's so hard to cross the limit to visit flickr, so I could not reply my dear friends, I'm so sorry about that and please forgive me,thank you so much and hope my friends can still hit on me！由于中国网络原因，访问flickr很困难，速度很慢，所有暂时没有办法一一回应各位好友，请朋友们见谅！还请各位好友继续关注我！
My pro account is out of time，thank you my friends here for supporting me what a long time！！May I have a pleasure to receive a pro gift from you？我的pro账号到期了，感谢朋友们长期以来的热心支持！！有好心人能赞助一个pro账号给我吗，在此先表感谢！！
If you want to use or buy this image，please contact me. 版权所有，转载请联系本人。
Because I'm going to a makeover, I have on minimal makeup - just liquid foundation, powder, and a little lipstick.
I am home from a four-day workweek. I’d like to tell you it was an easy time because I was blessed with Memorial Day off. For the most part, it was a breeze, but my dispatcher threw in a Philly run for Friday. That trip alone made it feel like a six-day workweek.
Besides the Philadelphia trip that chipped away at my soul, another thing has thrown me off balance since Monday. I didn’t feel quite right, and was certain the disease I have been cursed with, diverticulosis, was about to become diverticulitis. I did not want to let that happen. I would be forced to take awful antibiotics and miss work. Missing work equal missing money, so I had to soldier on. Instead of letting my disease get the better of me; I took a more holistic approach: I kept up my regiment of eating healthy high-fiber foods supplemented with fiber supplements. I tried to get extra sleep. I would think happy thoughts like I usually do, especially when I thought of whatever was transpiring among my insides. I would sometimes place my left hand on the lower left quadrant of my abdomen and imagine that healing light was penetrating to aid in the process. I will always fight to stay healthy, strong and positive, even when it is much easier to let myself fall victim to becoming sick. I’m happy to report my therapy seems to be working; I write you this Saturday morning feeling considerably better.
It was nice; however, to have what amounted to almost a four-day weekend last week. When you are away from home for so many days, it feels very good to be home. Any truck driver would tell you that they appreciate being at the house more than your average citizen who is home every single night (or day.)
When Tuesday arrived, it was time to enact my standard procedure of asking my wife if I really had to go off to work. The usual words flew out of my mouth like, “Do I have to?” “I’d much rather stay home and write, please let me stay.” The meanie that she is, I was given direct orders to leave; something about money needed to live flying out of her lips. Wouldn’t it be great, to stay at home and do the things we want to? I have not given up hope that one day that will be possible; however, this week, as next, I drive to work and pick up a big truck and go off in search of new adventures (and money.) It’s neither a bad life to live nor a terrible goal to walk towards.
Tuesday was a pleasant day buzzing around Baltimore and the DC beltway. The weather was good even though I felt like I was in a fog.
Wednesday brought two easy stops in Williamsport, Pa. It was a long day because I came back and made trails to Connecticut for Thursday’s deliveries. My first stop Thursday morning had a six to eight am delivery window. I was in town by eight Wednesday night but still, who likes to wake up that early? There was a silver lining; my second stop a mile away opened at ten in the morning.
You might be saying, “Jason, that’s not a silver lining. If you get done with your first stop at seven-thirty, there are two and one-half hours until your next stop opens their doors!” You would have a valid argument, but you cannot forget that I am a very skilled time filler-upper. Here was the plan: I would arrive at the first stop, unload 87 pieces of the world’s best furniture, then drive to a nearby truck stop. That facility happens to contain a Dunkin' Donuts store where I could score the finest coffee on the planet as well as a sausage egg and cheese breakfast sandwich. (I told you I was eating healthy.) There would also be time to clean the bugs off my windshield, in case I wanted to take a picture through it. (While sitting still I might add.) So, that’s what I did.
I parked my beautiful rig in the lot. I then walked inside the building to wash my hands before ordering my healthy and delicious breakfast. On the way, I noticed a big red Volvo truck sitting on the scale, in the process of being weighed. It is because I am a man with a good eye that I noticed something else: It was piloted by a girl (a pretty one I might add.) It is not unusual to see women truckers on the road. I seem to remember the pretty ones more for some reason. (Okay, I’ll stop with the pretty girl talk. If my wife sees that I said that, she wouldn’t let me leave for work, and she’ll break my fingers, so I can’t write. That would be terrible.)
When I was coming out of the building, I held the door open for a girl walking in. I was certain she was the one I saw in the truck, and I noticed she had a young girl with her. She thanked me, I told her that she was welcome, and then I set sail for my coffee and nourishment fix. I took my food back to my truck and sat at the table to enjoy it in quiet solitude.
Looking through the windshield as I ate, I could see the big red Volvo. The mother/daughter team had returned to their truck, and mom was standing at the back of the trailer looking at the wheels, her scale report in her hands. She then got out her phone and made a call, tipping me off that everything was not all roses on their trip across the scale, and she needed advice. Whatever was in that trailer was likely heavy. The Department of Transportation has regulations that we have to abide by. There can only be so much weight on the front axle of the cab, the drive tires of the cab, and on the trailer axles. If there is too much weight on any one part of all three, things can be adjusted to make it legal. It often starts with sliding the wheels of the trailer front or back.
Watching them set my mind into the wonder mode. What a good lesson for her daughter in the mathematical conundrums of weight and balance. I wondered if her kid hopped on Facebook and made a status update that said something like, “We just picked up a load in Connecticut, and it’s too heavy. Mom can’t get the thing balanced right and it’s taking forever. Ugh.” She would be unlike most girls her age in saying something like that, that’s for darn sure.
I might also add that I do not know if I am correct to assume that mother/daughter was the relationship between these girls. They could have been sisters, friends, maybe even aunt/niece. Perhaps I should have asked them, but I was too scared. I’m a better writer than I am a smooth talker with the opposite sex. In addition to that, what if they had asked me for help with their truck-weight issues? I would have come off looking like an idiot. I hate when that happens.
It’s been a very long time since I put my truck on a scale. It’s very rare that it’s a necessity in the business of furniture. Fabric and wood are fairly light, and even if I completely removed the wheels of the trailer, it would still be legal. (Wait, maybe not. It might not roll so good and would probably throw off a lot of sparks.) Every once in a long while, I do pick up something heavy on the way home and have to make sure everything weighs well. The last time I did scale a load, I had a student with me, and I was not sure how to correct the problem. (Yes, you heard it all here: I am a healthy eater and a skilled teacher.) I did what Mom did; I picked up my phone and called my friend and mentor Gary for advice. We moved the wheels on the trailer in the correct direction; we re-weighed it, got it right, and drove on home.
In the end, it was my imagination that kept me from talking to them. I was even predicting the daughters Facebook status if I did talk to them and came off looking like a fool. “Mom still can’t get our weight issues fixed. A really handsome boy came to talk to us. We were hoping for help, but he was a complete moron. I’ve never seen a boy stammer and sweat so much.” That would have been horrific.
During my stay, I watched them go over the scale three times, including the first trip. To my relief, another trucker went to help them and advised them to change the length between truck and trailer. The nose of the trailer rests upon a pin, and that mechanism can be adjusted front or back. It seemed to be the magic factor for them, as they went and parked in a normal spot and seemed to be settled down for a bit.
Watching the adventures of those ladies made me wonder about a lot of things. I’ve witnessed lots of things on the road in my long and storied career. (Okay, it’s only been about eight years, but it’s always storied because I make it that way.) I think it was a neat thing to see. I wonder if the young lady enjoys riding around in the shotgun seat of a big rig. It has taught me you can learn a lot about our world and the people in it, more so than from the walls of a classroom. I also wondered why she wasn’t in school; perhaps she was home-schooled or in the midst of enjoying a “take your daughter to work” day. Most of all, I wondered if she was like me, and would really appreciate being home once she got there.
Tiny Wild Clover,is not easy to Shoot,because you have to get down to ground level for the best Angel.
Because these days I'm very tired and I haven't time to relaxing, Eileen is relaxing for me!! She is so lovely!!
Because less "dress up", is more (Jedi).
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7P66ehzBM9U
Shame on me well I had the beast you see
and if he can take it I can take him home with me
Shame on her she's a lovely little number
and when we go lassoing you get lassoed, all of you
If you can take it, I can take it
And we're moving, so moving, so we are a boy, we are a girl
so moving, so moving...
Shame on the girl, she's got a big black dog in her
and while tough kids sing about tough kids she just skins the world
We'll never never play the harp, and we'll stick like sick on the stars
and if you can take it I can take these stones from my heart
if you can take it, I can take it
and we're moving, so moving, so we are a boy we are a girl
so moving, so moving....
If you can take it, I can take it, all of me
If you can take it, I can take it all
If you can take it, I can take it, all of me
If you can take it, I can take it all!
I just moved this one up to the front of my stream because I've found it makes a very, very pleasing wallpaper image... so I uploaded the largest size I have, in case anyone else would like to use it as well. ;-)
---
The Grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. ~Allan K. Chalmers
Ah, Spring. A time to stand still, take a deep breath, and then... get moving. The cherry trees are blooming... the grass is greening up... the tulips are pushing their way upward from their dank and dark underground beds... the world, at least our corner of it, is coming alive, and that thought makes me smile. While I actually really like (gasp) Oregon's rainy winters, Spring is by far my favorite season. I have already visited the cherry trees along Waterfront Park five times now (well, three times in one day, as I wandered about in downtown Portland during my day off), and intend to get out there a least twice more. The thought of those trees, and their soft, delicate-scented blossoms, puts my heart at ease.
This image was taken somewhere in Northwest with my Nikon FM and Fuji Velvia 50 slide film. The quote in the title is attributed to Alexander Pope.
Because less "dress up", is more (Jedi).
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7P66ehzBM9U
Shame on me well I had the beast you see
and if he can take it I can take him home with me
Shame on her she's a lovely little number
and when we go lassoing you get lassoed, all of you
If you can take it, I can take it
And we're moving, so moving, so we are a boy, we are a girl
so moving, so moving...
Shame on the girl, she's got a big black dog in her
and while tough kids sing about tough kids she just skins the world
We'll never never play the harp, and we'll stick like sick on the stars
and if you can take it I can take these stones from my heart
if you can take it, I can take it
and we're moving, so moving, so we are a boy we are a girl
so moving, so moving....
If you can take it, I can take it, all of me
If you can take it, I can take it all
If you can take it, I can take it, all of me
If you can take it, I can take it all!
The Case of the Missing Warts!
At some point in time, back then in the very early seventies the thought donned on me that I too could attend university, that, just because I was a grade ten dropout didn’t necessarily mean that my qualifications were much different than those who had attained their grade thirteen graduation certificates. There was a school of thought which supported the broader idea of Mature Student. This was me, had to be me, I was older, therefore wiser by experience. The decision was honed by observation and experience. My buddy, John the Count had taken me to a few lectures at U of T. At one such lecture Father David Belyea was lecturing to an English class numbering in the hundreds in a huge auditorium. The meat of the lecture was his discourse on the priest in the book Diary of a Country Priest written by George Bernanos. His lecture was nothing less than holy, I was impressed with his grasp of matters pertaining to the soul. On another visit to the campus John had me sit in at a small third year Sociology class which was about the lives of negro street people. The professor in that class had the students read a book titled Tally’s Corner which was about a man who worked now and then in a inner city East Coast American City, it may have been Baltimore. Count used me as a current day example of folk who though not pursuing a scholarly future were wise from experience, just like the guy in the book Tally’s Corner. I remember reading the book, enjoying the simplistic narration the writer wrote about, his observations, his respect for the characters in the book. One section described the method by which the shop keeper would pay his staff for unloading a truck full of merchandise. The owner estimated that the going rate for labour was five dollars an hour, this work took place in the sixties when rates of pay were much less than today, but so were the costs of goods. The owner would then subtract his estimate of how much the worker would steal from him per hour, he came up with the figure of two dollars and fifty cents an hour. The owner deducted this sum from the going rate then paid his workers the sum of $2.50 an hour. Surprisingly, the Count would find himself in a similar situation later in life while he ran the big cheese shop Pasquale Brothers on King Street East in downtown Toronto. John would from time to time actually hire, street folks, drunks, drifters, hoboes to help unload his merchandise and I know he applied the knowledge he learned in this social class to his wage structure.
Beside Count taking me to his school he also introduced me to his school friends who were not slouches when it came to scholarly matters. Some of the other guys were attending Universities around the country, one could say that my interest was by osmosis, or simply said, if they can do it, so can I.
Being an ardent writer, I penned letters to a few schools, U of T, U of Guelph and the U of Windsor. I recall having an opportunity to attend Guelph however my application arrived too late for the upcoming fall semester and this left Windsor as the school ready to accept me into a full first year of university studies. The roller coaster ride was about to pick up speed.
As an added bonus to attending school in Windsor my friend John the Count's brother Pete Kalci was looking for a roommate to share an apartment with as he was entering his second year of studies at Windsor. Using their dad Matts car we drove down to Windsor in late July of 71 to look at a bachelor apartment for the upcoming school year, Pete had gotten the lead from one of the newspapers. The apartment was situated at the back on the second floor in a plain three storey building. A centre stairway cut the building into two sections. The building was situated on University Avenue about a mile or so north of the school itself. An added bonus was that it was situated directly kitty corner to an Ontario Liquor store outlet. Besides that it was walking distance, about ten minutes to the downtown section, clubs/bars etc and a few blocks from a great second hand store. There was a clothing thrift shop in one of the store fronts of the thirty or so unit building. We took the small bachelor apartment without much thought. I believe the rent was around two hundred a month. It was furnished, albeit somewhat sparingly with a green pull out couch, an easy chair, small kitchen table and chairs which fit nicely into the tiny apartment size kitchen, it was the tiniest kitchen, no bigger really than that which a single person could fit into at one time. The eating area was tiny as well, however there was enough room for two to sit at the small rectangular table. Pots and pans and cutlery and dishes were also included. A small bathroom was tucked into the corner of the apt near the kitchen, there was no tub, just a small shower, the tiles were black and white one inch pieces with a black relief every here and there. The floor tiles matched but were a larger size, four inch by four inch. Although the fixtures were ancient, they were of a quality one seldom sees in more modern buildings. Really, everything was just perfect. The large walk in closet was to act as Pete’s bedroom, it was just large enough to accommodate a single bed with a dresser for clothes above which hangers could be hung with shirts and other articles.
Having been built I would think in the late thirties, the building was rock solid, the materials used in its construction were plain but durable. Solid wooden railings led to each floor, heavy steel self closing fire doors were present at each entrance. The building itself had character, there was an unusual stairway between the left and right hand sides of the building which was a great place to have a puff and hang out your laundry as a number of clotheslines were strung up for this purpose. Brenda the lease holder had graduated from Windsor and was taking a year off to live and study in Toronto. The neighbours across the hall were Sam, a balding, intellectual sounding Greek, short, barrel chested, Ouzo drinking Chrysler line worker, about thirty five or so years old and his new bride Mary a bit chubby twenty something, farm raised, locally, organic, dark haired woman, his conquest and love interest.
It was a hot day that July Saturday in Windsor and this is often the case in far southern Ontario as the location of the city is almost as far south as Canada reaches. We visited the school, there were a lot of empty buildings. I’m just estimating but I would think the campus took in about ten or so city acres. There were several older looking school styles, for the most part the construction was that of a late fourties architectural style with some early sixties buildings that contrasted with the older style. Prior to receiving university status the University of Windsor was known as Assumption College. The campus was growing as a new Arts and a fabulous Science facility were being constructed on the outskirts of the current campus.
There was a landscaped buffer zone from the main artery University Ave. A short five minute walk would take you to the central hub of the school, the cafeteria and student affairs building where everyone gathered, ate, attended concerts and generally observed life’s slowly turning pages in the lounges created in the foyer. Across from the cafeteria there was an impressive four storey library, quite new, well landscaped, with elevators to reach the upper floors that housed hundreds of thousands of books in sturdy six foot tall racks made of metal and dark oak wood shelves. Numerous areas had been created for sitting and studying, some had desks with chairs. On each floor there were a number of areas where four modern comfortable easy chairs faced each other. In the basement there was a microfiche department where one could look up information on this predecessor to the computer, computers were still a thing of the future, only large corporations had those newfangled information storage machines at the time. The library also had sound booths with excellent turn tables to play the fine assortment of records from the school library.
Trees graced the grounds, along with weed free trimmed lawns and hedges. On this quiet pre fall Saturday just the odd student could be seen coming and going. At the rear of the campus there was a pair of tall eight or ten storey complexes designed for students to live in, residences, beside these buildings there was a low rise building that housed the student pub.
Pete and I stopped for a few beers at the local watering hole, a place called Sid’s Bridgehouse, named thusly as it was within view of the large steel Ambassador bridge which connects Windsor to Detroit across the murky Detroit River. Draft rooms were not strange places for Pete and I, as frequent bouts of relaxation would often find us sitting at one of the many draft beer hotels in various parts of Toronto. It seems now as if we knew the city by the location of its drinking holes. With a bit of a glow on we headed over to Detroit to get some Ripple wine on my insistence. We happened upon a herd of streetwalkers, black damsels dressed in various manner many were sashaying in black high heels at the sidewalks edge wearing the kind of butt enhancing short tight miniskirt their cleavage propped up by wire hinged push up bras. It was quite obvious what the girls were up to and what we were looking for. We chatted a mother and daughter act up and we met them around the corner at the Chicago Hotel a three storey grey brick dive of a place that was more of a flop house as well as a hub for the prostitution trade. I can still see the black sign with white neon lettering above the entrance. Now why they would call a Detroit hotel the Chicago Hotel is a mystery. Each lady required ten dollars in advance which was a bargain compared to rates in Toronto at the time. The Hotel itself required a dollar fifty from each of us to use the room, I balked at the extra dollar fifty charge. The burly, dark 350 pound gentleman behind the counter didn’t make any fuss over his attempt to overcharge us, it was either pay the extra fee or leave and risk losing the money we had already paid the ladies in advance. The room was very basic, there was a small bed, a toilet, a sink, one worn thin faded green facecloth and a small once white towel. I let Pete go first, he had the daughter, a skinny thing, much less than twenty, whatever they did they did it fast, he came out of the room with his typical reserved grin and a glint in his pale blue grey eyes after his session. It was now my turn. The thirty something year old lady stripped down to her white panties and white brassiere which I found to be quite a contrast to her dark brown skin, she could have been a member of the Supremes, she cleaned herself down there with the facecloth, then rinsed the threadbare cloth in the little sink and cleaned my bulging apparatus. I couldn't help but notice the contrast in her skin color with that of her clitoris walls, why she was just like a white woman down there! My mind took a permanent snapshot of her anatomy which remains vivid today. She then proceeded to attempt to get me off, it was a while before Henry would cooperate, no amount of lip work or hand persuasion could keep Henry at attention for a very long period. A few attempts at entering her walnut shaped area failed, it was embarrassing. At the time I had a few small genital warts on my pecker that gave me some concern, Mavix jerked me off vigorously for five or so minutes, I finally came. Later that night back in Windsor while having a piss I checked and the warts were gone! She was protesting how long it was taking me to finish but I didn’t remember her saying we were on a time limit! You could say it was not a real touchy feely lovemaking session. Leaving the first floor room I stuck my chest out like a cock in the chicken pen, Pete was sitting with his date on a ratty sofa in the hotel lobby, the girl was chewing gum and primping her hair, the clerk wore a black summer shirt, he had a pencil stuck in his ear, a radio played soul music in the background, the lights were dim. We bought some Ripple wine and slept at the apartment in Windsor as had been arranged with the owner prior to leaving the city, a key was provided beforehand. Indeed life in Windsor was getting off to a very good start.
Tuition for the first year in school was going to be paid for by a grant and student loan, which was to be used for living expenses. Besides that money I had saved almost twelve hundred dollars at a summer job delivering Roll It shelving brackets. The total of the combination grant and loan was the sum of three thousand five hundred dollars. A third of that went directly to the University for tuition. Fortunately the Government issued two separate cheques for the grant portion, one in early September and the other shortly after the Christmas holiday or I surely would have spent it all in no time. Now I was pretty good with dollars, knew how to divvy them up, as I had developed my budget back in the Dyer and Miller and White House days. My habit was to take note of what was coming in and what was needed to go out. I’d been living on my own since the age of seventeen. I would make a list just before paydays and write on a piece of paper in order of necessity, the rent, meals at the Silver Tip, tobacco, bus fare, snacks for the room, beer money, HFC payments, I always owed my mom a few bucks. But this was so different, living in an unexplored town, a big town with a big city just across the bridge. My quest for adventure would drain the account in order to properly explore this new horizon. As mentioned the Liquor outlet was less than fifty steps away, it was hot in Windsor in September, to make matters worse there was a province wide beer strike, Pete and I quickly became fond of a beverage called Lite n Easy Sparkling Cider an apple beverage that was similar to beer in its alcohol content and similar in size of bottle and also satisfaction.
As mentioned the first week back to school is similar on many campuses, the new pupils gets oriented, they forgot to tell Pete and self and thousands of other students that it was not a week for getting disoriented! Check the local sales of booze in school towns during orientation week, they must be over the top. Pete and I lived like kings, we drank daily starting early in the afternoon. For entertainment I would cruise all the new to me second hand shops seeing which one could fill whatever purpose. Buying new shirts, pants etc was out of the question but poverty or near poverty was no excuse for not looking sharp. There were new goldmines of hand me downs to be explored. An early find was a bassy sounding record player AM FM radio combo, a boxy shaped wooden sound system about three feet tall by two feet wide, when you put on Albert Kings Born Under a Bad Sign album particularly that cut When I Lost My Baby, why you’d almost start to cry. The boxy 50s style system was easy to put on my shoulder and carry the few blocks to the apartment, up the stairs and down the hall on a sunny early fall afternoon.
Windsor was divided as are many towns into economical sections, we were living just south of the downtown where there were apartments and shops and side streets with big homes in a neighborhood I would describe as a step up from working class blue collar. Across from the centre of town lay more working class streets where a lot of the plant employees lived. The city’s main employer was Chrysler, they had plants spread out over the area north of the main intersections of Wyandotte and Oulette. While going to the school I was quite unaware of the fact the local economy was spurred by the automobile industry. To me, it was just another working class town, not unlike Toronto, or Hamilton. There was a good size downtown it seemed to have all the usual trappings, bars, clubs, restaurants, Woolworths, Kressges, Eatons, specialty shops, bookstores, curio stores, hospitals, police stations, pizzerias, grocery stores including a new Steinbergs everything one would need including my favourite a handful of second hand stores. One day at a second hand shop run by the St Vincent De Paul organization I found an old black typewriter from the 1920s complete with case. It was in working order I paid five dollars for it, it was a thing of beauty. It had no purpose except to look good, it oozed character but was somewhat dysfunctional as the ribbon that held the ink jammed shortly after I took it home. For assignments, which had to be typewritten and double spaced I used a newer portable electric Smith Corona bought for about seventy five dollars in Toronto complete with an aerodynamic looking plastic case.
The Geranium Tea Garden was a gem of a restaurant ran by a couple of older ladies. It was situated on a secondary street a few blocks from the downtown core. On Tuesdays buisness must have been very slow as a hand scrawled red poster board sign in the window beckoned one and all to come and eat the Tuesday luncheon buffet for .89 cents! After the first months partying Pete and I were getting a bit low on money. When we found the Geranium it became a regular event for us to attend this feast on Tuesdays, mid afternoon. Much of the food was casseroles, hamburger hash, leftover lasagna and meatballs, stick to your ribs goulash and other such fare that was probably left over from the previous weekend. Those items along with soggy mixed vegetables and gravy with a formidable skin on it were served from a stainless steel water heated table. Besides those dishes there was always a big tray of breaded pork chops and pieces of breaded fish, as well as southern fried chicken drumsticks. There were tiny rolls, along with those cold one inch squares of butter and plenty of jugs of water to wash it all down with. The deal was you could have two plates full for the cost of .89 cents. Getting the overloaded plate to your table was a bit tricky, I would often slip a half dozen chops and some breaded fish and drumsticks into my brown tweed sports jacket pocket before arriving at the table, before leaving the serving area I would look around and check that the ladies were busy elsewhere. There was a chilled display case that held homemade rice pudding as well as a variety of brightly coloured jellos with small squirts of whipped topping on top, these were also included in the buffet price.
Orientation week was coming to an end, a few bands played a free concert in the cafeteria, there were other activities as well. Pete encouraged me to check things out, as up to this point we had pretty much avoided the week long festivities on campus as we were to busy drinking at the apartment and gallivanting downtown. We just happened to go into the cafeteria mid afternoon as a beer chugging contest was winding down after a day of preliminaries. We sat down and ordered some cheap draft to watch the goings on. There were four contestants left on the stage sitting behind small desks. The judges would place six draft in front of each contestant and blow a whistle, whichever drinker finished first would advance to the next round with the second place finisher. As I recall quite a few contestants participated in the advertised event, drinks for all contestants were free of charge. No one knew me, I was a sleeper, an import, a high draft pick! Pete egged me on, our eyes meeting each others in knowing ways. Up on the raised stage there sat one last person, his name was Iggy or something like that he was the president of the local motorcycle gang, the Lone Bunch or Satans Breed, he was a big six foot four, long haired son of a bitch, a brute of a man older than me, shit older than most of the teachers. The judges hushed the crowd and asked if there were any challengers, I looked around, no one dared challenge Iggy! No one except me. As Iggy began to go for the trophy I finally stood up and got out of my chair and swaggered up to the stage, chest out like that cock in the chicken coop. I took a seat, in my mind of minds I projected myself to some of the previous victories I had amassed at places like the Embassy Tavern in Toronto on Belmont Street and of course the Place Pigalle on Avenue Road, the bars in Canton New York like Billy’s Lower, no one could beat me at chugging. They poured us each six draft in seven ounce glasses. We waited for the judge to give us the signal to drink. No one knew I had perfected the 'straight drop' technique, which allows me to open my throat and pour a full glass of beer down without gulping. As the bell rang I looked my competitor in the eye, it was like a shoot out. An alarm sounded, RRRRRIIIINNNGGG the bell went and I drank the six draft in what must have been world record time, Iggy had three left when I had slammed the sixth glass on the table. There was much applause from the drunken audience, I stood up and non chalantly shook my opponents hand and returned to the table with Peter, there was a small write up in the University newspaper marking the occasion, the prize was more free draft. Mature Student.
Because of planned engineers work on the Croydon Tramlink between Sandilands and Reeves Corner, replacement buses are provided by Abellio. Most of the services are in the hands of Tridents recently displaced by Enviro400 hybrids on route 350 in West London. 9771 YN51 KWF is seen departing Sandilands with a full load on Tuesday 31st March 2015. DSCN32732.
Dennis Trident-Alexander ALX400 9.9m.
Photoshoot at a Pokot village.
The Pokot people are categorized under the larger Kalenjin tribes grouping of Kenyan Nilotic speakers because they have oral traditions of a similar origin. They speak the Pokot language. The Pokot people live in the Baringo and Western Pokot districts of Kenya and also in the Eastern Karamoja region of Uganda. The Pokots are dived into two main sub-groups depending of their location and way of life. The two groups are the Hill Pokot who practice both farming and pastoralism, and live in the rainy highlands in the west and in the central south. The second group is made up of the Plains Pokot who living in dry and infertile plains, herd cows, goats and sheep.
As a result of their nomadic lifestyle, adopted by most of the Pokot, they have interacted with different peoples in their history and therefore incorporated social customs of neighbors into their life. The Turkana and the Karamojong of Uganda, who they neighbor, appear to have had the most influence on the Pokot. Those who are cultivators mainly grow corn/maize. Nevertheless, whether a pastoralist or a farmer, wealth among the Pokot is measured by the number of cattle one has. The other major uses of cows are in bride price and barter trade. As long as a Pokot man has enough wealth in terms of cows to offer, marrying more than one wife is allowed.
Dairy products like milk are an important part of the diet of the Pokot. Porridge made from wild fruits boiled with a mixture of milk and blood, a repast rich in nutrients and iron is the staple of the Pokot diet. Using a special arrow, it's shot into the neck of a cow to drain blood without permanently causing harm to the animal.
The Tororot being the utmost god according to the Pokot, prayers and sacrifices are made to him during ethnic festivals and dances that are organized by their elders. Also, the Pokot have diviners who are in charge for maintaining the spiritual balance within their society. Being superstitious and believing in sorcery and sometimes calling on various forms of shielding lucky charms to ward off the ill will of any sorcerers is a part of their tradition. They also worship other deities like the sun, moon and believe in the spirit of death.
Governing within the Pokot community, is through a number of age-sets and association with any particular set is be determined by the age during which a Pokot goes through their initiation into that set group or society. It is typically between the ages of fifteen and twenty for the men while, it is around twelve, for the women. Matrimonial binds for the youngsters are allowed, once the initiation has been accomplished. As well, they begin taking part in the local economic functions. The bonds formed within the initiation groups, are close and are functional in future political ties as they progress through the positions in the tribal organization. At old age, they get a certain degree of status and the esteem that goes with it. Presiding over important tribal decisions, festivals and religious celebrations are the duties among others that elders are in charge of.
The Pokot are quite proud of their culture are bound to hold on to it in the future. Generally, Pokot women wear colorful necklaces and beaded headgears, brass jewelry and big loop type earrings whereas men wear just a few wrap garments and cowhide capes and shirts. They use beaded skirts to distinguish those females who have been initiated from those who haven't. Pokot warriors wear red clay on their hair, special headgears of feathers. Dances are an important aspect of their culture especially during social-cultural events.
I am an ember safely smoldering in the dark.
For The Teleidoscope's "Tower" theme.
Because sometimes it feels like everything is too bright and too big and too close and too now, and i would give anything just to curl up in a corner in the dark, embrace the smallness of myself, and let the world loom over me like a burning building.
Because of the delays further north I wondered whether I should wait for this. In the end I decided I had nowt to loose. Clearly, I gained with a well lit shot of this combined with a quite dramatic sky.
@ All rights reserved.
I was not particularly happy these days because, I could not shoot for many days, for my daily routine used to take away all my time. After I got to know what suits me, I am enjoying every moment of it. The drive back home through the mad Delhi rush takes 2 hrs and I utilise it to contemplate my shots and conceive new set up and lighting.
Today was the 5th day, when I was working on the same subject….a set of toothpaste and brushes and experimenting with table lamp lights, thermocols, stools, card boards, bottles, Mug, clips, pins white cloth etc., all these being a part of the accessories I need to set up my table top. These accessories are needed to hang the back ground, the thrmocol sheets stand against the jug and the bottles, the table lamps sit on the stool, white cloth make my diffusers, …. and so on. And yes, the thermocol sheets play the role of reflectors.
Deep in my heart, I knew it was not all that good. The glass did not have proper edges, to show the complete body and curves. The glass had not been exposed properly. A few links in Flickr inspired me to work again on the same subject. It all helped me to emulate my own results and the ones I had seen on the net.
This time I got rid of the toothpaste and brushes and concentrated only on the glass. And finally captured Dark edges and curves of the glass. When I saw the edges missing in the body of the glass, then I made up my mind to first shoot and correct my lighting for glass photography.
le F.H.18 from Artillerie-Regiment SS-Division Reich with burning T-34 in the background.
Because of lack of heavy AT guns, 10 cm K18 and 10,5 cm le F.H. were often used as antitank weapons, firing at T-34 and KV tanks.
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The Panzer Pictures Database | @PanzerDB | panzerdb.com
Pacenti 650b Pari-Moto tires and Pacenti 650b 23mm rims.
28 holes, alloy nipples set up tubeless.
Stan's sealant in the front, Blue Seal in the rear so I can compare the two.
I just started doing this group ride out of a local shop, a younger crowd, didn't know most of them, and they didn't know me either. They were all on a mix of carbon, Ti and alu bikes...boutique wheels and war paint jerseys.
I showed up for the first ride on my rando bike with shaved Hetre's, 39 lbs in the front 42 in the rear,,,
handle bar bag and my headlight on....wearing a polo shirt.
As I rode my bike across the parking lot towards the group who were ready to roll,
I could feel the stares, and imagine their eyeballs rolling up into their foreheads...
I have to admit, I was a little intimidated, not knowing if I would be able to hang with them...
There were many blasts off the front, a lot of chasing, a fair amount of climbing and many fast descents.
The bike performed really well, and I didn't embarrass myself, or let my bike down.
They invited me back.
Thought I would sport my bike up a bit with the Pari-Moto's for the next hot rod ride...
See this photo for a full explanation of the gold BA.
From left to right: Brett Archer has exchanged his JFSR for a gold-plated AC8. Nathan Wulf usually favors an explosive-tipped flechette pistol, but thinks the Spy Carbine fits his style too. Nigel MacGruder's sidearm and blade of choice are a heavy pistol and vibro-chakram, but is seen here with a Space Magnum and Claymore. The sniper of the Blood Wardens, Aegis, is usually armed with a projected energy DMR, but she has no problem with the firepower of the HCSR. And finally, Yevgeni Sloan--like Brett--has given up his JFSR for an AC8, but wanted the extra security the M203 provides.
Please do not even think about asking me to trade or sell these.
because they deserve a special collage, for them only ^_^
bunny family has lost a couple of members last year, and another one has choosen a different family before arriving :-3
but there is still somebunny I wish to add........... XD
... because I AM holy.
"You WILL be holy" is a clear-cut instruction - "BE holy".
No one can be holy, on his/her own. But the One who is perfectly and absolutely holy is on our side. He took ALL of our sins, on that cross. He bore our bloody-red sins and washed us white as snow. Are you holy? Am I holy? Not really... but He chooses to see us as such and guide us in our every step towards holiness, even if it's going to take a lifetime.
Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope on the grace to be brought to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming. As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance. But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; 16 for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.” 1 Peter 1:13-16
Everest Basecamp – mount everest, who does not know this mountain. The highest mountain in the world with a height of 8.848 meters (29,028 ft). who always wanted conguered mountain climbers climbers reliable. This mountain is deadly for novice climbers, so for those of you who are still a beginner, do not try to try to conguered this mountain. not necessarily because of his conguered climbers can reliably especially novice climbers.
The following is the Everest base camp
At Everest Base Camp, climbers will Often spend 4-8 weeks, acclimatizing to the altitude. During that time, the “Icefall Doctors” will set up ropes and ladders in the notoriously unstable Khumbu Icefall. Seracs, crevasses and shifting blocks of ice of make the icefall one of the most dangerous sections of the route. Many climbers and Sherpas have been killed in this section. To reduce the risk, climbers will usually begin Reviews their ascent well before sunrise when the freezing Temperatures glue ice blocks in place.Camp I
Above the icefall is Camp I at 6.065 m (19,900 ft) Camp 1 is mostly a temporary camp with most climbers just spending one night at this camp.Camp II
Base Camp II, Advanced Base Camp (ABC) is established at 6,400 m (21,300 ft). The Western Cwm is a are relatively flat, Gently rising glacial valley, marked by huge lateral crevasses in the center roomates Prevent direct access to the Upper Reaches of the Cwm. Climbers are forced to cross on the far right near the base of Nuptse to a small passageway known as the “Nuptse corner”. The Western Cwm as the topography of the area geneally cuts off wind from the climbing route. The high altitude and a clear, windless day can the make the Western Cwm unbearably hot for climbers.Camp III
From ABC, climbers ascend the Lhotse face on set of ropes up to Camp III, on small ledges situated at Approximately 7,200 m to 7,400 m. From there, it is another 500 meters to Camp IV on the South Col at 7.920 m (26,000 ft). From Camp III to Camp IV, mountaineers are faced with two additional obstacles: The “Geneva Spur” and the “Yellow Band”. The Geneva Spur is an anvil shaped rib of black rock named by a 1952 Swiss expedition. Fixed ropes help climbers in scrambling over this snow covered rock band. The Yellow Band is a section of sedimentary sandstone. The route from the base of the Lhotse face to the Summit is almost always completely fixed with static line.Camp IV
On the South Col, climbers are very close to 8,000 m and can only spend limited time at those altitudes even with supplemental oxygen. Climbers typically only have a maximum of two or three days they can tolerate at this altitude for making peak bids. Clear weather and low winds are important factors when Deciding on a summit attempt. If weather does not cooperate within Reviews These short few days, climbers are forced to move down, many all the way back down to Base Camp.
From Camp IV, mountaineers Reviews their summit push will start from 8 pm to 2 am with the hope of reaching the summit (still another 1,000 meters above) within 10 to 12 hours. Climbers will first reach “The Balcony” at 8,400 m (27,700 ft), a small platform where they can rest and gaze at peaks to the south and east in the early dawn light. Continuing up the ridge, climbers are then faced with a series of impressive rock steps the which usually forces them to the east into waist deep snow, a large amount of sudden grave hazard. At 8,750 m (28,700 ft), a small table-sized arena of ice and snow marks the South Summit.
From the South Peak, mountaineers go after the knife-edge along the Southeast Ridge the which is known as the “Cornice traverse” where snow griping to irregular rock. This is the most bare part of the climb as a misstep to the left would send one 2,400 m (8,000 ft) down the southwest face while to the immediate right is the 3,050 m (10,000 ft) Kangshung face. At the end of this traverse is an imposing 12 m (40 ft) rock wall called the “Hillary Step” at 8.760 m (28.750 ft).
Tenzing and Hillary were the first mountaineers to rise this step and they did it with prehistoric ice climbing equipment and without fixed ropes. Now, climbers will ascend this step using fixed ropes Previously set up by Sherpas. Once above the step, it is a comparatively easy climb to the top on fairly angled snow slopes – though the exposure on the ridge is extreme especially while traversing very large cornices of snow. After the Hillary Step, climbers must traverse Also a very loose and rocky section that has a very large entanglement of fixed ropes that can be troublesome in bad weather. Climbers will typically spend less than a half-hour on “top of the world” as they Realize the need to descend to Camp IV before darkness sets in, afternoon weather Becomes a serious problem, or supplemental oxygen tanks run out.
That Everest base camp you will visit when you are mountain climbing Everest. if you are big enough guts, you should climb this mountain. but if you are in doubt it is better not try to climb this mountain.
by New Hotel Travel in ift.tt/1q2Vh1i