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          Fast and Fun: Stash-Busting Christmas Planners      Comment   Translate Page      

When it comes to making a workable Christmast planner, embellishments, stamped designs and lavish ribbons are nice to have, but simple's good, too! And when the Christmas planner project helps empty the craft stash and make good use of small scraps of paper? It's a stand-out project!

Check out these designs from blogger team Karen and Martha from Scrappin' Our Stash 2009. Using inexpensive pocket folders from the office supply store, these clever, sustainable folder-based planners are fast to make, fun to use.

Great job!

Christmas File Folder Planners from Scrappin' Our Stash

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          Tea & Biscuits Brigade :: RE: LAST PERSON TO POST WINS      Comment   Translate Page      
Author: Damien
Posted: Sat Apr 13, 2019 5:52 pm (GMT 0)

I’m sure me and Christian did “drink when you see the Eiffel Tower” once.
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          Re: PRIME Time...............      Comment   Translate Page      
and a few more pix of Doziers!


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would red wine with pork be gauche'


Quien Sabe,


GWB


          25 of the Most Stylish Dresses to Wear to a Spring Wedding      Comment   Translate Page      

Photo via: Vogue Paris

Wedding season is upon us and we all know it can be quite daunting to find the right look. To help ease the stress, we found 25 of the most stylish dresses online that are guaranteed to make you the chicest guest attending the nuptials. To complete the outfit, just pair with a nice mini bag or clutch, strappy sandals, and you're good to go.



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          RABT presents... TICK COOPER by John Vance      Comment   Translate Page      



 photo Tick Cooper_zpsr2lyb1xn.jpg

Tick Cooper
by
John Vance
YA & Adult Historical Fiction
Publisher: Black Opal Books
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“I swear by everything I ever owned that my adventure will be the honest truth—even if I had to tell a few lies along the way to get to the meaning of that truth.” So promises Tick Cooper, a twelve year old Ohio boy who’s about to accompany his Uncle Ned down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers to New Orleans. It’s the autumn of 1860, right before the election that will send Abraham Lincoln to the White House. With his mother deceased and his father having deserted him for the chance of gold in California, Tick has been most fortunate to receive the care and love of his father’s older brother and his wife—Aunt Clara. Although she has recently passed away, she and Uncle Ned have educated the boy about living a good and proper life. But Tick hasn’t had much of a chance to put what he’s learned into practice—nor to face the moral challenges every young person will face as he or she grows up. But the river journey will provide plenty of those experiences and tests of character. Yet, reaching New Orleans does not conclude the lessons and challenges, for there Tick witnesses a slave auction, and on the block is a thirteen-year-old freed black girl named Clarissa, whom Tick had briefly met in Ohio. Now Tick faces his most significant challenge. Can he help get Clarissa back to Ohio all the way from New Orleans?


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EXCERPT




There I was jumping from the top of one tree to another. It wasn’t exactly as if I was flying, because I had to land on the top branch of each tree, but it sure felt like flying. Geese were following me and honking away like they were trying to warn me about something. But when I decided to forget about the tree tops and just fly, I fell hard to the ground thirty feet below and started rolling down the side of a hill while I was hiding my face in a pillow. I kept feeling the feathers from the goose down pillow sticking out and poking my cheeks and the side of my neck. Try as I might, I couldn’t pull that pillow off my face and it got to be stained with the blood coming out of me. But I kept rolling and rolling until I was stopped by something firm but soft. But by the time I finally pulled the pillow away from my face to see what or who had stopped me, I woke up and I never found out. That happens to me in dreams a lot. Wish it didn’t, though. What woke me up was my Uncle Ned telling me it was time to leave our house and get on the train to Cincinnati where we would get aboard the steamboat the St. Paul and head down to New Orleans. I was about to leave on the greatest adventure of my life. I swear by everything I ever owned that it will be the honest truth—even if I had to tell a few lies along the way to get to the meaning of that truth. Uncle Ned shouted from the front porch of our house in Oxford, Ohio, “Time to catch the train, Tick.” That’s my name—Tick—Tick Cooper. Or what they’ve always called me anyways. Uncle Ned said I’d always remember this day as long as I lived, but I still wrote it down when we got on the train in Hamilton so I’d be sure never to forget— “November the 1st, 1860.” We would ride some thirty-five miles to Cincinnati, the 2 largest city in the whole state. I’d a been on the train only once before—when the railway first opened, when I was six. But what gets a boy excited when he’s six and what gets him excited at twelve are quite different things—so this time I acted all grown up like I’d ridden the railroad every week. I didn’t jump around and bother Uncle Ned the way I did the first time. Even so, it was still pretty special chugging along in such high style. Nothing much happened on the train for the first twenty miles or so, but two more passengers got on and right afterward I heard some commotion going on in front of where we were sitting. “I say that’s my seat you’re sitting in. Get out of it now.” The man who said that was an elderly gent who looked like he had gotten into many tough scrapes in his life. He had long white hair and side whiskers, but what I grabbed my attention most was his scarred-up face. It looked like someone had dug trenches on his cheeks and above his right eye. And he seemed much bigger and stronger than men as old as he was. He was talking to a boy who looked younger than me—maybe nine or ten. The boy was in the seat by himself and was just too scared to say anything back. “You had better come up with a good reason why you took my seat or I’ll rip your nose right off your face, boy.” Because Uncle Ned had fallen asleep, it was up to me to do something. I just had to be sure that boy kept his nose on where it was, so I ran up to the man. “Excuse me, mister. My brother here is in the wrong seat. Come on, Ben. Your seat is back with us.” That boy almost flew out of the seat and headed to the back of the train car. “Excuse my brother, mister. He doesn’t hear well and sometimes I have to tell him things twice.” I turned and walked back to my seat, expecting that that white-haired old devil would 3 grab me and try to take my nose off. But he didn’t say or do anything. He just grunted and sat in the seat I guess he always sat in when he rode on that train. I found out that Ben’s real name was Peter Butler and that he was put on the train by his grandpap so he could take a steamboat from Cincinnati to Pittsburgh, where his mother, father, and baby sister had just settled in a house. I told him I’d look out for him until we reached Cincinnati, where his grandpap’s brother lived and would take him in for the night. We talked about the man with the scars on his face—I mean we talked softly so we wouldn’t wake Uncle Ned or let that old buzzard hear us. I told Peter that some folks believe they really own whatever they use often—cups, chairs, and such--and that it’s easy for someone big to get what they want from someone smaller, who can’t do anything about it. And if that big someone is also real ugly, it’s all the easier. When I told Peter my name, he wanted to know if I was born with it. I told him that when I was born my father named me John Polk Cooper, but those first two names never really suited me much. It was Aunt Clara who first called me “Tick” because when I was a baby I used to burrow into the blanket like a tick into a dog’s back. But the name really stuck when I started running around and hiding in bushes, old dead trees, and holes in the ground. I also like the sound of Tick Cooper better than John Cooper or John Polk Cooper any day of the week. One of my teachers said that Tick Cooper wasn’t as easy to pronounce as John or John Polk Cooper, because the first name ended with a “k” sound and the second name began with the same sound. But she was educated and I guess those things matter to those kinds of folks. Ben said that Polk was a funny name to be stuck with—and it was, but from what Uncle Ned told me I got my middle name because of the then president of the United States, James Polk, who they say kicked the Mexicans out of Texas and took it for the 4 United States. Uncle Ned said that my father thought Polk did the right thing, but from what Uncle Ned also told me, my father once shot a man in the leg who claimed that the twelve feet at the very back of my father’s land rightfully belonged to him. They say the man showed my father the papers, but my father shot him anyways, saying that it was the law that those who live on the land and cultivate it have all right to it. I guess old President Polk never heard of that law when he took Texas. So since I was born on March 3, 1848, I got stuck with a Polk between my first and last names. If I was born three years ago my name would have been John Buchanan Cooper, which was wore then the name I had. As Aunt Clara used to say, “Thank heaven for small favors.” When the train stopped in Cincinnati, we waited until the foul-looking man left the train car before we did. Uncle Ned woke up and finally met Peter, who thanked me for helping him and waited until he saw his grandpap’s brother before getting off the train. I wished he was going to New Orleans instead of Pittsburgh, because I knew I’d never see him again, but my Aunt Clara used to say that the older you get the more often folks would come in and then out of your life—sometimes on the very same day. Aunt Clara. I guess I forgot to say that she was Uncle Ned’s wife and was always like a mother to me, since my own mother died when I wasn’t yet two years old. I’m still very sad that Aunt Clara got real sick and died a few months back. The day before we left Oxford, we went to see her grave at the Old Yard Cemetery. Uncle Ned had been going there every week since she died, but he never made me go with him. I just did it on my own every few weeks or so, but it was more to be with Uncle Ned because I really wanted to go. Not that I’m afraid to visit the graves of all those dead people. I’ve been there after the sun went down with three of my friends and was the very last to run out of there, which won me the wool cap we found snagged on a tree limb the day before. 5 Anyway--at her grave, Uncle Ned told Aunt Clara that he’d be going away for a spell and he’d be thinking of her all the time. He also told her that he’d be taking me with him. She was so good to me—she really was. As soon as we got off the train, we heard a noise on the wooden platform—a kind of “ker-thump” every several second or so, so we looked around and saw a man who looked like he hadn’t shaved his whiskers in a hundred years limping along with a wooden crutch under his arm, which he dragged as he took a step with his good leg. Good leg? I should have said only leg! Uncle Ned reached in his pocket for a coin or two, which he liked to do whenever he saw someone who couldn’t walk or see too well. So I reached in mine and pulled out one of my two new Indian head pennies. My other one was back in my room at home, but I always carried one of them with me for good luck. But when I looked at the coin, I wanted to think that Uncle Ned’s contribution would be enough that the one-legged old soul wouldn’t hold it against me if I jammed my lucky coin back in my pocket. I sure didn’t want to be without luck on my grand adventure to New Orleans. But I didn’t think or act fast enough because the next thing I knew I had put my Indian head penny in the man’s hand. He closed his old fist around it, and I felt like I dropped my hunting rifle down a well. My stomach became as heavy as a cannon ball, and my throat felt as dry as if I had swallowed a campfire. Being charitable isn’t always “its own reward,” as Aunt Clara used to say. The poor man had only limped about ten feet away when two men in fancy clothes, with new top hats and walking sticks came up behind him and started laughing and pointing at his crutch. I guess these were men because they were dressed in all high fancy, but they acted like boys not much older than me. The one in the striped pants took his walking stick and swung it like he was chopping at a low limb and knocked the 6 crutch out from under the old man, who fell to the platform before I could take get close enough to break his fall. Those two dandified gents both burst out laughing as the old man let out one of them painful old man’s screeches, with a whistling sound—probably because he lacked some front teeth. The coins he had gotten from me, Uncle Ned, and some other kindly folks were scattered all over the platform. And then you know what those two popinjays did? They threw down several coins themselves! I couldn’t believe it. I guess they paid for the right to hurt the old man. Or maybe they did it to make sure their consciences wouldn’t bother them none. Uncle Ned told me once that some folks believe they can make up for their being cruel and thoughtless by giving money. And these two gents were nothing compared to what I’d see later on my adventure. But I’m running ahead of myself. When I went over to help up the old man, I saw my Indian head penny about six feet away, picking up the bright sunshine, which made it sparkle. When I got the crutch situated under the old man’s arm, I walked over and picked up the coin. I was afraid someone else would take it and use it to buy something useless. No. Now wait. That’s not all of it. I better come clean or this tale isn’t going to be worth you’re taking the time to read it if I don’t. To tell the honest truth, I picked up the coin mostly because I wanted to think more about his need for it, since four other folks gave the old man more money. I picked up my coin as the lame old man was walking away with the rest of the money that someone had picked up from the platform, along with the new coins just placed in his hand. I knew he wouldn’t miss my Indian head penny—not one bit--and seeing that it and the other penny back home were gifts from my Uncle Ned, I decided to put the penny back in my pocket. For about a second. I caught up with the old man and gave him my good-luck penny for a second time. Maybe I was wrong, but I just felt he needed the good luck 7 much more than I did. Then I heard Uncle Ned calling me, and that was the last I saw of my penny and the old man. But not the last I’d see of those two high-hatted, dandypants scoundrels who knocked the old man down.





About the Author


 photo Tick Cooper Author John Vance_zpsnkmizxpe.jpg
During his career as Professor of English at the University of Georgia, John Vance was the author of six books and numerous articles devoted to literary biography and criticism. He also began indulging his love of theater as actor, director, and playwright, with thirty-five of his plays staged. Now he has turned exclusively to fiction, and is the author of fourteen novels, including the humorous memoir Setting Sail for Golden Harbor and the recently BookBub featured In Mind of the Vampire. He lives in Athens, Georgia with his wife Susan.




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          Стихи_любимых_поэтов: Расцветает нежностью весна...      Comment   Translate Page      

Расцветает нежностью весна...
Стыдливо,.робко,осторожно...
В наряде скромном вновь она...
И не влюбиться невозможно...

Кипенье белое в садах
Вот-вот дойдёт до эпогея...
Душа утонет в небесах...
Желанья,чувства всё острее...

В полёт попросится душа...
Ты не отказывай ей в этом...
Дыши..Любуйся ею не спеша,
Передавая всем приветы!

Перооо, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119041205518

РАЗДЕЛИТЕЛЬ ВЕТКА ЦВЕТЁТ (300x151, 62Kb)
PEROOO

          No Longer A Girl, Not Yet A Lady      Comment   Translate Page      
It has been a while since my last blog entry here. You must have all been wondering what I have been up to these days. Well, I am doing fine. I have grown tall in the last couple of years and have lots on my sleeve.

I moved to a new school, so it meant new school environment, new classmates and teachers. I was lucky enough that I have classmates who were from my old school, so I actually did not feel lonely on the first day of school, which by the way started in September last year. Wow, it felt like it was such a long time ago! 

It is more challenging now that I have moved to a secondary school because there are more subjects taught but I still get to do some curricular activities at school in the afternoons. I stopped doing ballet though, but for that, I have tennis and self-defense instead. I enjoy it a lot despite the muscle cramps since I love sports. But I do miss dancing... maybe I will look for a dancing school if my schedule permits it.

My Mom and I still do some crafts every now and then, but she mostly lets me do the crafting myself.  I miss doing it with her though but this tradition we shall keep.  I can still remember when we did the DIY baptism favors for her godson or those soft felt owls we made together with my friend when she came over. I am into origami lately or anything that has to do with paper. In fact, I made a photo frame from waste cardboard material as a gift to my twin friends.

So much has changed in the last couple of years but I am still that little girl who loves to read, enjoys being with family and friends, and is always thankful for everything that I have right now. Oh, and did I mention that I got a dog for my 10th birthday? There really is so much catching up to do, I know. I shall tell you all about my dog and so much more in my upcoming posts so please stay tuned!

Thank you for dropping by. Till then!


          What Does the Palm Symbolize?      Comment   Translate Page      
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What Does the Palm Symbolize?

Today is Palm Sunday when we recognize Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  Jesus and His disciples were coming from the Mount of Olives heading towards Jerusalem when a crowd had gathered to welcome and worship Jesus.

Since I am a northerner I am unfamiliar with palm trees - I have only ever seen a live palm tree in Florida.  Therefore, I had to do some researching - there are 3,000 different species of palm trees!  There are date palm trees that have been noted as a food source since the Mesopotamian period.  Also, not all palm trees produce coconuts - the coconut palm is a specific species.  Here in the United States the coconut palm is only found in Florida.  The palm trees in California and Arizona are not a coconut palm.

What does the palm symbolize?  In Christianity the palm symbolizes VICTORY.  Jesus' victory over Satan and sin.  The palm represents the victory of spirit over flesh.  It also represents heaven.

Praise God for sending His only Son so that we might all have forgiveness and eternal life!

by Angie Ouellette-Tower for http://www.godsgrowinggarden.com/ photo SundayPalm_zps5hetxbak.jpg
  
by Angie Ouellette-Tower for http://www.godsgrowinggarden.com/ photo SundayPalm2_zps95rxl2rk.jpg

Hosanna - used to express adoration, praise or joy
synonyms: alleluia, hurrah, hurray, hooray, cheer etc

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          Accessories/Memorabilia/Toys :: RE: Norema exterior Sunvisor "Sunset"      Comment   Translate Page      
Author: IN2VWS
Subject: Re: Norema exterior Sunvisor "Sunset"
Posted: Today 4:43 am (GMT -7)
Topic Replies: 4

On the weekend, I fitted the Happich version on my car. I put a small screw on each side in the gutter, as I have lost one of these on another car many years ago. As it flew off, I saw it in my rear vision mirror as a truck was running over it......I didn't bother stopping.....

Fitted on the weekend.
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          Tea & Biscuits Brigade :: RE: LAST PERSON TO POST WINS      Comment   Translate Page      
Author: Damien
Posted: Sun Apr 14, 2019 6:38 am (GMT 0)

Damien wrote:
Two cheeky long weekend wins in a row.


We were very drunk but I think Yuko was the most drunk
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          A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend      Comment   Translate Page      
There is a place in far West Texas where night skies are dark as coal and rivers carve temple-like canyons in ancient limestone. Here, at the end of the road, beauty abounds as this solitary mountain range becomes surrounded by this weather-beaten desert landscape.

Get ready for a glimpse of the sublime Southwestern thanks to captures from Neva Michelle Photography. Oh, and you're going to want to brace yourselves, m'dears! Because these views are some of the best in the country. This magical place is Big Bend.

Breathtaking in so many ways and dripping with boho charm — today's shoot is filled to the brim with crazy-beautiful bridal fashion. Taylor Glam did the hair and makeup and also planned and styled this colorful shoot.

Be on the lookout for this over-the-top gorgeous bridal gown from A&BE Dallas, a perfectly boho ceremony setup from Warehouse Rose Events, a colorful stationery suite from ByCuddles, and protea filled florals from Gardenia Event Decor.

 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend  A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend  A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend  A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Big A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
 A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend A Bohemian Love Story at Big Bend
So absolutely gorgeous. Are we right? Or are we right? Join us over on Pinterest we plan to pin every single capture from this beautiful shoot!
Photography: Neva Michelle Photography
Event Planning, Styling, HMU: Taylor Glam
Floral Design: Gardenia Event Decor 
Bridal Gowns: A&BE Dallas
Event Decor, Triangle Backdrop, Tablescape Design: Warehouse Rose Events
Stationery: ByCuddles



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