These stones are the real deal, circular hand formed red clay perfectly sized for a personal pizza
These are perfectly sized for a lunch for two or if you're really hungry, a personal pizza.
Who knows pizza better than Bangladesh? Perhaps Italy since they perfected a certain textured crust topped with a heavenly mélange of fresh ripe tomato, cured meats and cheeses, and any fresh vegetable you can imagine. But Bangladesh is home to the forefather of pizza like the Middle Eastern flatbread that's been baking in wood fired ovens well before BCE.
Promoting this hot stone Bangladeshi cookery steeped in tradition, Ten Thousand Villages, a leading source of Fair Trade artisan crafts from around the world, is now selling Terra Cotta pizza stones. These stones are the real deal, circular hand formed red clay perfectly sized for a lunch for two or if you're really hungry, a personal pizza.
In keeping with the essence of simplicity that has made this stone so treasured across the centuries, follow these simple steps when making your own pizza:
- Place pizza stone in oven and preheat to the highest temperature possible.
- Remove stone (with oven mitt or OUCH!), sprinkle with corn meal, and spread dough across stone, being sure not to burn your fingers.
- Spread your toppings and bake in oven until both crust and toppings are golden brown. If the hue is approaching black, you're done.
- Be sure to have an oven mitt and spatula on hand for serving.
Earthware heat riser? Fireproof concrete?
A friend of mine has a tube like this
About three feet high and 1 inch thick. Some 8 to 10 inch in diameter.
Would this be big enough for a heat riser? He's got plenty of fireproof bricks and baking oven sole. He's ok to give them to me.
One question. Can i do a rocket stove with fireproof concrete between the bricks?
Well, could some of you give me opinions, please?
I meant the stuff they joint pizza ovens with. Which, by the look of the bottom of one i've worked with long time ago, is fire clay based.
Long long time ago, i've managed to turn the bottom of the pizza oven i was working on, red
The problem I see with heat risers like this, is that it takes longer for the riser area to heat up. If you make the burn tunnel out of the clay tube then you have the same problem there.
In the stove pipe system, the fire reaction heats the thin metal - then contacts the insulation and the heat is 'trapped' right there in the burn tube and heat riser <--- This is the reason the rockets burn so clean.
In the clay tube the fire has to heat the mass of the clay before it contacts the insulation. This might make the burn not so efficient for several minutes. That being said. I have purchased some flu liners to use for the my next rocket project. The flu liner is made of the same material as that tube (I think). The flu liner should last almost forever (unless I crack it somehow).
In the last pic, I saw, of Ernie and Erica's RMH, I see that they used the flu liner for the load chamber. I haven't heard how much of the system is made from the flu liner. There may be some info on their site.
Sometimes the answer is not to cross an old bridge, nor to burn it, but to build a better bridge.
The Gallery is back up and running following the pandemic closure. We're offering curbside pick up, free door-to-door delivery in Hutchinson City Limits, and browsing hours!
"We plan our vacations around visiting the Clay Coyote."
- Carlann and David Scherping (Columbus, NC)
Для показа рекламных объявлений Etsy по интересам используются технические решения сторонних компаний.
Мы привлекаем к этому партнеров по маркетингу и рекламе (которые могут располагать собранной ими самими информацией). Отказ не означает прекращения демонстрации рекламы Etsy или изменений в алгоритмах персонализации Etsy, но может привести к тому, что реклама будет повторяться чаще и станет менее актуальной. Подробнее в нашей Политике в отношении файлов Cookie и схожих технологий.
Sunday, April 8, 2018
- 8:30am: In My View, An International Children’s Art Exhibition at The Living Arts and Science Center (art/kid friendly): The theme of the exhibition, IN MY VIEW, was to encourage children to look outside their own windows and throughout their community to create artwork and share with us a view of the people and places in their own part of the world. Students could also consider IN MY VIEW as an opportunity to share their own point of view and opinions about a local, regional or global issue or topic. IN MY VIEW will include artwork from 8 to 14 year old children in China, India, Cuba, Ireland, England, and Honduras and will be exhibited within the Living Arts & Science Center’s new Children’s Art Gallery. The artwork is offered for sale and will remain on exhibition from March 15 through May 26, 2018. (Recurring daily until May 26).
- 10am: 21c Yoga with Art – Anita Courtneyat the 21c Museum Hotel Lexington(fitness/health/wellness): This fun class will be in the Art Gallery! Find your inner peace at 21c Museum Hotel Lexington’s weekly Sunday yoga series. Perfect the art of oneness as you work through a variety of poses. Sessions are just $5 at the door and are led by certified yoga teachers from YOGA at The Massage Center in Dudley Square. Attendees should bring their own mat or towel and water and arrive early to ensure a spot because space is limited.(Recurring Sundays).
The Hands of Fate
Photo Credit: Maigh/Flickr (CC-by-nc-nd)
A black Volkswagen Jetta sped along Country Road 47, an isolated two-lane road that ran parallel to the interstate, after two hours wasted on the highway. Devin and Jenna were traveling from Athens to spend Christmas week at a cabin he rented in the country. Devin drove with furious glee since taking the ignored exit and Jenna, with a book in her lap, watched the barren pines pass like rows of gray frozen skeletons.
“This is so much nicer than the highway,” she said.
Devin laughed. “Yeah, I’m doing sixty on an open road. Suckers!”
“Be safe. I don’t want to crash on some backwoods road where a family of deranged hillbillies will rape and eat our corpses.”
“What the hell kind of book are you reading?”
“It’s hard to read when everything’s so beautiful.”
Pine trees transformed into apple orchards stretched across a clear and ice-covered landscape. Sunlight reflected through the snow in a kaleidoscope of shimmering colors: blues, yellows, reds, oranges. An aged wooden sign covered in frost caught Jenna’s attention.
They passed an abandoned chapel with a cemetery at the base of a hill. The tops of random headstones littered graveyard, peering above the snow cover. The town was an island surrounded by an ancient wood.
“Talk about an antique,” Devin said. “This place is set in amber.”
Jenna pressed her nose against her window. She watched a house rise above the woods and homes around it.
They stopped at the intersection of Main and Polk Street.
“We need to get to the cabin. I don’t want to lose our deposit.”
“We have until six and it’s not even one yet. Turn here. I want to see something.”
Devin huffed but knew he had to satisfy her curiosity or the rest of the trip would degrade into a bitter fight. “Fine, but after this we hit the road.”
Jenna became more excited as they coasted toward the large house. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Stop, stop, stop.”
Devin parked in front of the aging home.
“I can’t fucking believe it!”
Jenna grabbed the book from her lap and opened the cover. The inner-fold of the dust jacket had the author’s bio, but instead of the author’s photo was the picture of the home.
“This is it!” she said. “This is the house!
“Abraham Grabowski is a complete hermit. He doesn’t do book signings or anything. He never leaves. There aren’t even pictures of him. His publisher doesn’t even know what he looks like.”
Jenna shook her head and grabbed her phone. “I need this for my blog.”
She jumped out of the car into the snow.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“This is obviously a sign I was meant to come here.”
“We can do this on the way home!”
“I’m not risking it. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
She shot a video with the home behind her. She meant to post it to Snapchat, but she didn’t have any service. She recorded anyway and figured she’d upload it at the cabin.
“Hey, horror bookworms. If you’ve been paying attention to my blog at all, you should recognize the house behind me. That’s right my nerdy little nasties—it’s the home of the one and only Abraham Grabowski. I’m going to see if anyone’s home. Hopefully, I’ll have some more footage to come. Your Ghastly Girly signing out!”
Devin turned the car off and trudged up the lawn. “This might be the house, but it doesn’t mean he lives here. Hell, the guy might not even exist.”
“It’s worth a shot. Look around, everything in his books is here. This is the town he writes about. This is where all his stories come from. This is the epicenter.”
The front door to the home opened and a young woman stepped out. “Excuse me,” Wendy said.
“Sorry, if she disturbed you,” Devin said. “We’re leaving.”
However, Jenna bolted up the stairs.
“This is it, isn’t it?” she said.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t say that. This is it. This is the house. You know who lives here. Who are you?”
“You shouldn’t be here. You should be going.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Devin said. He took Jenna’s arm.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We can go in a minute. Just tell me I’m right. I know I’m right.” Jenna noticed the sound of a door closing inside. She hopped to look over Wendy’s head and saw an older woman standing beside a staircase.
“Nonsense. Nobody’s nobody at Christmastime. Let them in.”
Jenna glanced to Devin with her eyes wide open and a grin stretched across her face. Catherine greeted them in the foyer. The hypnotic rhythm of typewriter keys tapped through the floorboards.
“I apologize for our assistant,” Catherine said. “We like our privacy and Wendy does a good job.”
Jenna couldn’t speak. Her senses were choked—soaking in the details of the home. “This is it,” she muttered. “It’s all here. Everything from every book!”
“I can see you’re a fan,” Catherine said.
“More than that,” she said. “I actually write book reviews and Mr. Grabowski’s books are one of my favorite topics.”
“So, this is the place she thinks it is?” Devin asked.
Catherine asked Wendy to make some tea and returned her attention to her guests.
“We can sit in the study. I do enjoy company.”
Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound manuscripts and wooden boxes. Devin and Jenna shared a loveseat while Catherine sat in the armchair.
“Do you help Abraham with his books?” Jenna asked.
“Abraham’s the writer, as you can hear.”
The clack of the typewriter hadn’t stopped since they entered. Catherine held her bony and withered hands up.
“And, these hands create the death scenes,” she explained.
Wendy returned to the study with a tea service.
“Wendy, my dear. Bring one of the displays to show our guests.”
She brought one of the boxes to Catherine. She opened the lid to reveal an intricate diorama.
“Oh, my God,” Jenna said. “That’s Marlon from A Cry in the Night. That’s amazing.”
“She’s read every book,” Devin added.
“I’m actually finishing Babylon right now. How long have you two been working together?”
Wendy returned the diorama to the shelf.
“Since the beginning. I’m convinced that fate brought us together.”
“Is it possible for me to meet him?”
“Anything’s possible if Abraham ever comes out of that basement. These winter months are when he’s most productive. Once you hear the typewriter going, it rarely stops.”
Catherine sipped her tea, undisturbed by the mechanical keystrokes firing away like a machine gun from the depths.
Devin insisted on leaving after one cup of tea. On the trek back to the car Jenna stopped to take a few more photos of outside the home. When she was content, she jumped in.
“Why don’t you have the car running?” she asked. “Get the heat on, I’m freezing.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing since I got in here?”
Devin checked his phone for the time. “It’s three o’clock. My phone’s not getting any service. Can you call the cabin and see if they’ll hold our deposit?”
“No service for me, either. It hasn’t worked since we got here.”
He slammed his hands into the steering wheel.
“Don’t get mad. Try and see what’s wrong with the engine. I’ll see if they’ll let us use their phone.”
Devin popped the hood and Jenna ran up to the home. Wendy answered.
“Hi again,” Jenna said. “Can we use your phone? Something’s wrong with our car and I’m not getting any service.”
Wendy led Jenna to the kitchen.
“Wow, a landline. I haven’t seen one of those since I would visit my grandmother’s house.”
“Yeah, but we rarely leave the city.” Jenna let out a humiliated and exhausted sigh. She took the phone from the receiver, but there was no dial tone. She pressed down the cradle three times, but nothing. “Does your phone not work?” she asked.
“It goes in and out around here.”
“It’s pretty dead in the winter around here.”
“Do you have a car? Maybe you can drive us to the next town so we can find a phone?”
“We don’t have a car and anyone with a car has already left for the winter.”
“I was gonna ask if other people lived here, because we haven’t seen a sign of life.”
“Anyone that hasn’t left just digs in.”
The basement door opened and closed. Catherine entered the kitchen.
“Why, Jenna, I thought you and Devin left.”
“I know. I’m sorry. For some reason our car won’t start. I wanted to use your phone.”
“Ha! Good luck. We basically live on a frozen island.”
“Man, Devin’s going to be pissed.”
“Why should he be upset? We aren’t that bad of company.”
“No, it’s not you. We rented a cabin and if we don’t contact them before six we’re going to lose our deposit and I feel like it’s all my fault.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. One day you’ll learn that some events are out of our hands. If you can’t get your car started, I insist you stay here the night. We don’t mind.”
Devin came inside. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” he shouted. “Any luck on the phone?”
“Devin,” Catherine said. “Jenna told me about your plans and I feel awful that you stopped here and now can’t go. Let Wendy know how much the deposit was for the cabin. We’ll pay for it. We have plenty of money.”
Catherine looked back to Jenna.
“Perhaps the phone will be working tomorrow,” she continued. “It goes in and out all the time. Wendy, get the guest bedroom livable. I’m going downstairs for a little while longer.”
Catherine returned to the basement. Jenna explored the study with Wendy following her like a doe-eyed lost child, brushing against her softly and asking endless questions. Devin struggled in the frigid temperature with the car, but was lost with mechanics. When nightfall descended, he returned inside with their bags. Wendy and Jenna were in the kitchen chatting, laughing. The scent and warmth from a well-used kitchen filled the home.
Wendy hovered over a cooking pot, stirring the contents. Jenna glanced at Devin with a playful grin. An open bottle of wine rest on the table next to her.
“We’re having sausages with boiled cabbage,” Wendy said.
“I hope you were taking notes,” Devin said.
“The recipe’s a secret,” Jenna answered.
The white noise of the typewriter filled the pauses between the conversation.
“He really never stops,” Devin said.
“When a story grabs him, it becomes his obsession.”
“Is there any way you could tell me what the book is about?” Jenna asked.
“I don’t even know if he knows, yet. He says it depends on what the characters do. I mean he knows what the end result will be but he never knows exactly how they’ll get there.”
Dinner ended with empty plates, followed by dessert.
“Wendy, dear. Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”
“Thank you, Miss Catherine. I just follow the recipes you give me.”
“Yes, yes, but it’s the subtleties that transform food into cuisine, just like the nuances that augment words into prose.”
“It was very good,” Jenna said. “Wasn’t it, Devin.”
“Oh, yeah. The best sausage and cabbage I’ve ever eaten.”
“My dear, you are more than a cook, you are a chef de cuisine.”
Wendy nodded in thanks and Catherine let out a satisfied sigh. “I believe it’s time for me to go to bed,” she continued. “Wendy, make sure our guests see their room.”
“Thank you again for your hospitality,” Jenna added.
Catherine retired upstairs, followed shortly after by Wendy, Devin, and Jenna. Wendy stopped at the first door by the stairs.
“This is where Miss Catherine sleeps,” she said.
“Just Catherine?” Jenna whispered.
“Her and Abe don’t sleep in the same bedroom?” Devin added.
Wendy shook her head. The next room had an open door. It was cramped with a large bed, a mirrored dresser by the door and a chair by the window.
“This is my room,” she continued. “If you need anything, come see me.”
Ahead of them was a third room with two windows that gazed across the archipelago of little shingled roofs.
“This is where you’ll be sleeping tonight,” Wendy said.
“Do you hear that?” Devin mentioned.
Wendy and Jenna turned to him standing in the doorway. They waited for him to answer his question.
Jenna paused and glanced to Wendy. “Does this mean we might get to see Abraham?”
“No,” Wendy answered. “Abraham stays downstairs when he’s writing and he’s always writing.”
Wendy left them alone. Jenna and Devin gazed across their room.
“Separate beds,” he said. “Not quite the romantic getaway I planned.”
“Welcome to a simpler time.”
“You wanna push them together?”
“Do you think it’s weird they don’t sleep in the same room?”
“Yeah, but my grandparents lived in separate rooms for the last twenty years of their marriage. Look, as long as Abraham keeps putting out books, I don’t care where he sleeps.”
“Well, I’m going to use the little boy’s room. Did she give you the money for the deposit?”
“Really, you’re going to ask that now?”
“Hey, she offered. I was just curious.”
“Let’s find out how far the next town is tomorrow. If we can get there maybe we can use a phone and maybe the cabin hasn’t been rented so we can still have a vacation where we can share the same bed.”
Devin took a change of clothes and meandered down the hall. Jenna gazed down to the street. Devin’s car was parked beneath the streetlamp. She undressed away from the window, facing the wall. After removing her top, the door opened. Jenna turned but was startled to see Wendy.
“You shouldn’t stay here,” she whispered.
“I have a car,” Wendy continued.
“I asked if you had a car earlier.”
“I couldn’t say anything. It’s parked on the edge of the woods. The keys are inside. Gather your things. We can leave, right now.”
Jenna sighed. “I’m tired and it’s too late to go anywhere tonight. We can leave tomorrow.
Devin entered. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay. Wendy was just making sure we had everything we needed.”
Wendy nodded slowly and exited.
“What was that all about? She seemed a little into you.”
“Okay, we can stay an extra night, but only if I can watch?”
“You’re an absolute pig. You’re just lucky I love bacon.”
Jenna awoke to a chill that swept across her body. She wasn’t accustomed to sleeping alone and slid out of bed to join Devin. However, he wasn’t in bed and the mattress was cold.
The home was silent, even the mechanical chug of Abraham’s typewriter was quiet. Jenna glanced out the window and saw the car was no longer on the side of the road.
Jenna crept along the hall. Wendy’s door was open and her bed was empty. From out of the silence of the home, the cellar door closed. Jenna peered over the banister but found no one. “Damn it, Devin,” she said.
Jenna rushed downstairs and pressed her ear against the basement door. She struggled with what to do: knock, enter, yell. She chose to enter. A banker’s lamp illuminated the underbelly of the home. An unmade bed below rested the steps. Flush with the far wall was a workbench with small intricate tools, fabric, boxes, wood, and clay. With her final steps, she discovered a writing desk with a typewriter and a stack of paper next to it. One sheet was clamped into the carriage half-typed.
“Devin,” she said. “Are you down here?”
Before escaping the basement, Jenna decided to investigate the upcoming book. She looked over the two dioramas Catherine left on the bench. The first appeared to be the study upstairs, intricately designed down to the tiniest detail, but with the figure of a man dressed like Devin, hanging by his feet from the ceiling. A bucket rested below him to collect the blood that coursed from his gaping throat. The next box looked like the front of the home and the edge of the street. Across the snow-covered ground, drag marks and a trail of blood led to the street, but it was unfinished, the body was missing.
The slide, crash, and ding of the typewriter shifting to the next paragraph. Typing soon followed. She read along as each letter was hammered into the page:
Jenna gasped for air as the prisoner spirit cried out to her, “Run.”
Jenna clambered up the stair and fled the basement in the desperate hope of finding escape. She stopped at the door as the typewriter continued to tell its tale. A slow-moving shadow in the study coaxed her attention. Light from the street lamp sprinkled through the front room. Devin’s body hung from his feet in the center of the study. An occasional drop fell from his gaping throat as the gentle motion of the home swung his body from side-to-side over a cooking pot.
Jenna burst from the home but a bloody trail of drag marks led from the steps across the lawn. In the middle of the street Wendy’s corpse lay slumped and twisted in the street. The word DISLOYAL was written with blood in the snow. Jenna ran back through the house to the door in the kitchen that led to back of the home. She could find the car Wendy had mentioned.
She stomped through the snow mounds toward the woods. Her feet and body were frozen to the point that she no longer felt cold. Frozen moonlight blanketed the world. The bony arms of the trees reached out to her in waiting and wanting. When a flash of light from a torch appeared from within the shadows, followed by another and another. From the darkness, robed figures emerged, their faces obscured.
“Winters are long but our homes remain strong by feasting upon the body and the blood!”
A collective voice followed.
“And, the spirit will feed us,” the group countered.
A light feathery snow began to fall.
“Don’t cry, my dear. This was meant to happen our lives are forever guided by the hands of fate.”
A knock rattled on the front door of the old home. The winter continued its frozen onslaught. Parked in the street was a red 1998 Toyota Corolla. A cheery-eyed dark-haired girl hopped in glee when the door opened. She looked back to her friend, Ally.
“I know this may sound strange, but is this the home of Abraham Grabowski?”
Catherine descended the stairs.
“Who’s at the door?” she asked.
“No one. I was just telling them to leave.”
“Nonsense, Jenna. No one is no one. Let them in. You know I love guests.”
Ellis Sinclair is a recent graduate from the University of Central Florida. As a freshman in high school, he was hit by a car while riding his bicycle. This event and a series of bizarre experiences guided him to writing. He grew up in a poor neighborhood. He worked overnight at a gas station which allowed him to read and write as much as he wanted. He has a wide range of interests with writing and some of his favorite writers have been: Hemingway, Stephen King, Alan Moore, Steinbeck, and Philip K. Dick. Email: ellissinclair[at]outlook.com
Photo Credit: Martin Rødvand/Flickr (CC-by-nc)
The three of us meet at Starbucks on Main: me, her and her husband. The minute I see them perching on bar stools at the end of the counter I know it’s them. He’s tall with that air of wealth and hurry that comes with success in business, but his hair is grey. Next to him she looks like a tiny aerobics instructor with a lot of glossy hair, and smooth skin. She’s wearing a tight jersey dress that holds her like a negligee. Her sandals show me she has long toes and a shiny pink pedicure. Her husband’s knee is juddering it’s hard to tell why except they’re often uptight like this.
I order my coffee first. I can see they have drunk theirs already. David, that’s what the husband is called, has slugged a double espresso, to judge by the empty cup on the table and the last of Beth’s latte is visible in her mug. I get the usual a double shot cappuccino with caramel and low foam. Low foam. I almost laugh. Guess that’s why we’re here.
It’s not that I do this for a living or anything. Beating off into a cup every day is the pastime of cash-strapped and embarrassed college kids. I drive an Escalade, dress in Hugo Boss and wear Tod’s loafers. I’m not the polystyrene type. I’m a professional man. I’m married. I run my town’s chapter of the Insurer’s Guild, I hold down a tough job and everyone thinks I’m a pretty great guy. My wife’s got nothing to complain about. She works part-time on reception at the firm, and the rest of the time she steams her face and walks the dogs and keeps herself in shape. We’re not the kind of people you worry about. We’re the kind you ask over for dinner.
It was at one of the dinner parties that this first came up. A good couple, Deidre and Frank, friends of ours for years now, hosted us for Thanksgiving. We’d got to the part of the meal where people, maybe a little drunk on the old Californian, raise a glass and tell people that know anyway what it is that they’re grateful for. We’d had the predictable enough starters from others around the table. Mark Hanson said he was grateful for the holiday bonus that had bought his new Chevy—who wanted to walk to work? There was a bit of laughter at that, mostly at his expense but no one said so. His wife Charlotte was grateful for their family and home they have two daughters and one of them suffers with Down’s Syndrome. It’s a struggle for them they get tearful late at night if someone asks them how it’s going. Tears of tenderness Charlotte calls them, though it’s clear she spends her life striving to stay on the level.
Anyway, Frank gets to his feet a little unsteady, grips the edge of the table and says how grateful he is that he’s firing blanks because he gets to sleep in on a Sunday morning instead of changing diapers and driving the older ones to Little League while his gut circumference grows by a couple of inches a year. It’s almost worth, he says, having to sit with Deidre on the edge of the tub once a month while she weeps about it. He slops wine out of his glass onto his shirt and sits down with a thump. Next thing you know, Deidre’s up and thanking God that this website she’s just found lists people who’ll give her a good fuck without worrying about the consequences of a baby. That shut him up.
We talked about it in the car on the way home, my wife and I, as you might expect. This was a couple we’d known for years. Chances were it’d be days or at most weeks before I’d be unwinding their insurance policies so Frank could make his alimony payments. Judy, my wife, was very shocked. She kept saying that she couldn’t believe it, and just when you thought you knew people. She seemed a little misty eyed which was puzzling because we were solid and it’d been a long time since we’d put the idea of kids behind us. It was something, we agreed, that God just didn’t intend for our partnership. As Judy and I talked, I kept thinking about the look on Deidre’s face: satisfaction and hunger all at once, and something else that I couldn’t quite name.
So when she came into the office two weeks later, I did the insurance business for her and asked her as casually as I could about the website she’d been frequenting. She gave me what I wanted and I gave her what she wanted against the filing cabinet, the whole thing shaking and clanging, mostly so she wouldn’t tell my wife what I’d asked her about, but also owing to that ripe as a plum look she’d had, shining with lust right there at her Thanksgiving party.
And so it went on. There was something a little unsavoury about the anticipation of a hook up but the fucking was worth it and I got to leave afterwards, no questions. The women just waved me on my way. After a while it got so it was like having a good workout at the gym, and I’ve always kind of thought that the fucking is a bodily need like any other, why get worked up about it, if you know what I mean. Deidre was pretty focused on the act while it was underway, and all business afterwards. She’d set up my profile on the site but never talked about the other women. We just zipped up and got on with our days. It might’ve been the times with her that made me do the same with the others. Maybe I set the tone and they fell in with it. Frankly, why dwell on it when everyone’s happy.
So I’d walked into Starbucks, and they were both there. It wasn’t the first time a husband had got in on the act. It wasn’t my favourite thing, but I figure I’m going to bang his lady, so whatever he feels he’s got to do. The few times I’d met the husbands, they disappeared at the critical moment, which suited me, because who’d want a dude in the room at a time like that? And it left their wives free to enjoy what they were getting. Pretty soon it’d be all logistics for them, pregnancy tests and a note from the site administrator to close up the association, as they called it. Job done, time to move on. Suits me fine.
But there he was, and historically the husbands have had a few questions. They are using the site to avoid the legalities, the hold ups, the medical insurance, the what have you. And on your side you want minimum fuss. You don’t want to bring a child into the world, have nothing to do with it, and then have it turn up when it’s eighteen asking about what you’ve amounted to and what this means about who they really are and why you don’t care about any of it. I’m comfortable with where I am. I’ve talked you through that already. Wife, house, a little money, some fucking and being left to enjoy your liberty. But anyway, the husbands want no strings. They’re the ones who want to be the daddy. Another one would get in the way. But they still have questions, so you humour them. The sooner you do that, the sooner you can get to the point. And Beth, without wishing to offend, is a point I’m pretty keen to get to.
The husband’s jittery from his espresso. The knee jigging keeps up. He lets me know up front, he’s doing this for Beth. She’s desperate for a child. I enjoy my coffee and wait for the talk to be over. I glance at her at this point and it’s true she looks a little haunted. But the wives, in my experience, might be thinking of a child before I get there, but then I arrive and they get focused pretty quickly on the next hour and a half. They get into it with a reliability that is gratifying. There are a few things that gratify that way. There’s not a whole lot in the insurance world that’s new to me, and I’ve been at the game for a while now. But there’s a quality in a pile of completed and filed applications at the end of the week that makes me feel pretty satisfied, since you ask. There’s a commission coming and everyone’s content, and I appreciate that the way I feel good about there being a little give in my waistband even after a long lunch. It’s like being one of the few at your high school reunion that still has his hair and a wife you wouldn’t turn away on a cold night. You know what I mean.
So when this guy starts with the questioning, I’m clear that it’ll be over soon and Beth and I can move on to the hotel upstairs for the business end of the deal. She’s sitting cross legged on the bar stool examining her manicure and I’m confident she’s waiting for this bit to be over too.
“You don’t look much like you went to Harvard,” David says. “What was your year?”
I’m wearing a good suit and I’ve got good posture and I’m pretty pissed by this, so I say, “Class of ’95, buddy. Didn’t see you there.”
“I was at Yale,” he says, like I give a shit. And he says it in this kind of way that makes you feel you’re already judged and found wanting. But I’m about to fuck his wife so I give him the benefit for a minute. Meanwhile I store away the Harvard thing. I don’t know what else Deidre wrote on that site. Who cares, right? It gets me in the door. But it’s handy to know from time to time, particularly when the husbands come out fighting.
“And you have no children of your own?” he says.
“No, ironic—isn’t that what you Yale grads say?” I give him a smile. “The wife’s not able,” I say. Not that it’s his business but he should know it’s not me or else Beth and I won’t get to the money shot.
“Listen, buddy,” I say to him. I’m getting impatient now and Beth’s started to stare across the coffee shop like this isn’t anything to do with her. She’s looking far away and a little upset and it’s an effort getting past that later. I reach into my jacket. I know how to hold it so the label shows, and the lining flashes to its best advantage. Cerise satin, this one, on grey flannel. Boss makes them just so. And I hand him a business card. It gives him the low down on my business and the good neighbourhood I live in. Give him some comfort, I think. I’m all about transparency. The Harvard thing and whatever IQ Deidre’s stuffed out into cyberworld just don’t have anything to do with success, at the end of the day.
“I get results,” I say to him. “Never had an unsatisfied customer.” And I smile the way you do when you just know it’ll go your way.
Just then he gets all courteous. He looks closely at my card and raises his eyebrows. He’s impressed. He files it in his breast pocket and pats it through his jacket.
“Gabe,” he says, “thank you.” Very earnest he is, and I enjoy that. So when he says he needs just a little more time, that he and Beth have to talk—at this, she looks at him and squeezes his hand—I think well, what’s the hurry? They’ll be back soon enough. He gives me one of those crushing Yalean handshakes and she puts a perfumed kiss on my cheek and we agree to meet up again once they’ve had that talk.
The next week I’m in the office. I’m pretty relaxed after a decent hook up, and there’s a knock on the door. There’s a bailiff there, a squat man that smells like a row of sneakers in the locker room at the Y and he starts barking about fraud and Chapter 7. He hands over one of those business cards that’s like a high class wedding invitation. I have just enough time to reflect that the only person I’ve met lately who’d wield a card like that is David before the bailiff’s crew start confiscating filing cabinets and the breakfront Judy bought me for our fifteenth anniversary. I can see that out in the reception area—it’s not Judy’s day today—the secretary’s already reaching for her handbag and jacket.
I’m feeling a lot of rage and humiliation so that I can hardly drive, but somehow I’ve got to get home. On I-95 it feels like if I go fast enough I can stop the asteroid that’s about to fall on my house, but as soon as I pull into the driveway and turn off the engine, I know. Not much is different, but there’s one blind drawn in the window of the den and when I get to the front door I can hear the clink of the chain out back where Snowflake must be sniffing around. If she’s not in her basket while Judy’s doing the washing up and singing, if Snowflake’s not sitting on my wife’s knee while she watches Oprah, if she isn’t inside there’ll be no comfort for her. For Judy, my Judy, who stood up on Thanksgiving and gave God thanks that if she couldn’t have the family of her dreams, she had Gabe, the man of her dreams, and a happy, happy home.
Kathryn Pallant is a fiction and poetry writer studying for a Creative Writing PhD at Manchester University, England. Her first novel, For Sea or Air, is represented by the Lucas Alexander Whitely agency and her poems have recently appeared in Cake and Antiphon magazines. Email: kpallant[at]hotmail.com
Get Your Hands on a Red Clay Bangladeshi Pizza Stone - Recipes
The 2004 Skipping Stones Honor Awards
Educational, Entertaining & Exceptional!
Are you searching for authentic, multicultural books? Do you enjoy exploring the natural world through a good book? The 2004 Skipping Stones Honor Award winners cultivate an awareness of our multicultural and natural world without perpetuating stereotypes and biases. They encourage positive role models, promote cooperation, nonviolence and appreciation of nature. These books and the educational video also offer a great variety of learning experiences for students and teachers, children and parents. Our thanks to over 20 reviewers-teachers, students, parents, librarians, interns and board members-who helped with the selection process.
Reviews appear in the summer issue (pages 29 - 35).
Welcome! Have you already started dreaming about your summer vacation? What do you want to do this summer? While I hear some kids say, "Summer. what a bore. nothing exciting to do," there are many simple ways to make it extraordinary!
In our daily life, for the most part, we live and feel separated from nature and the outdoors. How can we feel that we belong in nature? As a kid, I remember taking morning walks with my father, uncle or brothers. We'd enjoy ripe mangoes, tamarind or other tropical fruits as we walked past those trees. Even now, as an adult, I love to take early morning strolls. Today, while I was enjoying the morning mist, what a pleasure it was to see two beautiful songbirds perched on the crowns of two nearby evergreens, welcoming the new day with their melodious chirps!
As we spend more time getting to know the woods and outdoors, we no longer feel afraid of those bugs, slugs and other critters that are simply minding their daily business. Nature walks, hikes or back country camping with a family member and a friend will help you feel at home in the great outdoors. An afternoon in the woods will offer more food for your soul than sitting in front of a computer or video screen. Pay attention to what you smell, hear, see and feel as you walk, without drifting in daydreams.
Do you have a garden? No? Then try window-sill, patio or roof-top gardens. Use garden compost and good potting soil in big planters to grow your favorite flowers, herbs, tomatoes and other vegetable plants. Eat plenty of garden-fresh salads and seasonal fruits like watermelon, berries and peaches when available. Watering a garden, chopping vegetables, making pizza from scratch with Mom or Dad. there are many ways to bring joy into our summer.
Many great literary works wait silently and patiently to be held in our hands. Look for the latest multicultural and nature books on pages 29-35. As a student, I immersed myself in historical and spiritual books or (auto)biographies of people who have made our world better. I invite you to dig out the classics by Thoreau, Rachel Carson, Mahatma Gandhi, Herman Hesse, Khalil Gibran or Rumi.
As we learn about these visionaries, we see how they were able to make changes in their own lives. Like them, let's discover in our own life journey that the world does not revolve around us. While we must know that we're special, it's equally important for us to realize that everyone else is also very special, with their own feelings and values. Our mind works like a parachute, only when it is open! (Let us be open respectful and receptive of other ideas and ways.)
Summer is also a great time to get involved in community projects-maintaining nature trails, working in soup kitchens, helping the disabled or visiting a nursing home for the elderly. Some Sundays, I volunteer at the county juvenile detention center talking with youth. Difficulties or challenges that we face working with others do have a purpose in our life-to help us learn and grow. When we volunteer with humility and compassion, it feels really good inside. Now, that's something worth trying this summer!
- Explore! Nature walks, hikes or backpacking with groups like Nearby Nature, Obsidians or A.T. C.
- Go camping with a family member and a friend.
- Try a windowsill, patio or roof-top garden.
- Visit local farms, get U-pick produce or fresh vegetables at the farmers' market eat fresh fruits, greens and raw vegetables as often as you can.
- Observe an hour or two of silence each day.
- Try not to gossip or talk behind someone's back.
- Make friends with kids who are different from you.
- Take mindful walks, paying close attention to what you smell, hear, see and feel as you walk practice walking meditation, without drifting in daydreams.
- Ask a librarian for book recommendations.
- Volunteer for community projects (work on nature trails, soup kitchens, etc.) in your neighborhood.
- Try something new! arts, musical instruments.
Understanding our true nature and practicing selfless love and compassion for all is the core of the One World ideal that saints of many faiths practice and teach. As we learn it, we realize we are all connected and our true nature is unconditional love.
We feel useful, wanted and happy when we treat friends, family and strangers with kindness, when we help people in their hour of need. What if we seek and work for the well-being of all, for the greater good this summer? Loka Samasta Sukhino Bhavatu-May all beings be content!
When My Dad and I Go Camping
When my dad and I go camping at one of Wisconsin's State Forests, we go hiking. Once, we went hiking on the biggest trail in our park. It was enjoyable because we heard the sounds of nature and could glimpse out onto the lake.
When my dad and I go camping, we rent bikes. The trail is twelve miles long, but we only go four because we get tired-the steep hills wear us out. Once we saw three deer drinking out of a pond. There was a mama and two baby deer. They were adorable.
When my dad and I go camping, we go swimming in the lake. At the lake, I feel like I'm at the beach because there is sand all around the lake. The water is cold like Lake Michigan, and you have to step in slowly. When my dad and I go camping, we read books together-we grab a picnic table by the lake and read. On our last few trips, we have taken the Harry Potter series. I like reading with my dad because we like the same kinds of books. When my dad and I go camping, we cook: breakfast, lunch and dinner. We prepare hamburgers, hot dogs, and noodles. I like to help my dad cook because I like cooking myself.
When my dad and I go camping, we sit by the fire and talk about school, funny things, life, boats and business stuff. While we sit there, we look up at the stars. We just sit in our chairs and stare. The stars there are so different: They are much clearer. Sometimes, our marshmallows turn out burnt, but typically, they turn to just right.
When my dad and I go camping, we stay up late, until 11 pm. Before then, we hear yelling and playing music. If my mom were there, we would be in bed sooo much earlier. When my dad and I go camping at Wisconsin's State Forests, we have GREAT time!
I could feel the rhythmic pounding of Geronimo's hooves underneath me. We rounded the corner and Geronimo sped up to a smooth canter. He had gotten the right lead this time. There had been many times when he'd gotten the wrong lead, or had cantered with the wrong foot in front. I have tried to explain to him that you have to start with the outside leg forward when doing the trot to canter transitions. He'll learn one of these days. "Now look at the jump and anticipate that he'll stay at this speed," Sarah yelled from the center of the arena. She had been my riding instructor for the past two years.
I looked at the jump. It was a vertical. A long, white pole resting on two jump cups. It was around two feet, higher than I had ever jumped before. I prayed that he wouldn't refuse-Jumping is very difficult and scary if your horse doesn't know what he is doing. But Geronimo never hesitated for a second as he took off through the air. Quick release, hands up, heels down, hands and face up his neck. We landed gracefully and evenly on the other side.
Some people don't appreciate the long years of sweat and hard work that equestrians pay for a good fifteen minutes in the show ring. It had taken me two years to get to this point and I was loving every minute of it.
"That was good!" Sarah yelled with a smile.
I slowed Geronimo down to a trot, then a walk. I led him to the center where Sarah was, and dismounted.
"You did well today," Sarah said.
"It was all Geronimo," I replied.
I walked Geronimo out to the crossties, took off his bridle and put on his halter. He stood perfectly still as I untacked him and gave him a good brushing. I stopped for a second to admire him-he really was a beautiful animal. Some commented that he was too short and fat for jumping. I thought he looked just as beautiful as a pricey Grand Prix jumper. He was an Appaloosa, with spots to spare. Grey, black and white hairs stuck out in all directions, giving him a scruffy look. His mane stood straight up, making a perfect mohawk on top of his head. Overall, he was quite a sight, one to be laughed at and loved at the same time.
After grooming and picking his feet, I led him back to his stall. He began munching on a mouthful of hay, only stopping momentarily to watch me go.
Archive of Our Own beta
This work could have adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
If you accept cookies from our site and you choose "Proceed", you will not be asked again during this session (that is, until you close your browser). If you log in you can store your preference and never be asked again.
Made of stone by tyrellis
Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Keep your head down. Don't talk to the others. Stay in your cell, don't yell, don't tell anyone how angry you are. Comply in their training exercises, excel in the arena. Don't scream when they plunge needles into you, don't cry, don't beg for your mamá. You take everything they give you and you make yourself stronger.
After five months' imprisonment, Lance is finally rescued from the galra's grip - but something about him has changed. In fact, almost everything has changed, and the paladins do not know how to reverse it, and truly get their friend back. Is it possible? And does Lance even care enough to cooperate?
Development and filming Edit
Season 21 was broadcast during the 2012 fall season on CBS.  It spanned a little over 25,000 miles (40,000 km) of travel to three continents and nine countries including China, Indonesia, Bangladesh, Turkey,  and the Netherlands, which hosted a Switchback task.  
This season introduced the "Double Your Money" prize for the team who won the first leg, making them eligible to win a total of $2 million if they also won the final leg. Only six teams in the previous twenty seasons of The Amazing Race had ever won both the first and final legs. Elise Doganieri, co-executive producer for the show, called the larger potential prize "a real game-changer". While teams reacted with excitement at the larger prize, Doganieri hoped that if it was won, the additional prize money would be used for "something wonderful" such as supporting charitable medical research.  Abbie Ginsberg and Ryan Danz, the winners of the Double Your Money prize, were eliminated from the competition at the conclusion of the ninth leg, after being U-Turned by Jaymes & James.
In Leg 3, Caitlin & Brittany were seen taken in the wrong direction of the Pit Stop, but in a post-elimination interview they stated that they actually knew where the Pit Stop was and were coming back to the Pit Stop after "backtracking" to retrieve a missing clue.  The leg featured the series' first-ever Blind Double U-Turn, where two teams could U-Turn another team, and whichever team used the U-Turn could remain anonymous. It was a combination of components of the U-Turn of previous seasons: Double U-Turn combining with Blind U-Turn.
Although contestants are typically forbidden contact with known family and friends during the filming (except where such contact is part of a task), James LoMenzo was shown video chatting with his wife during the fourth Pit Stop to receive an update on his father's medical condition.
Bangladeshi model Rumana Malik Munmun appeared as the Pit Stop greeter during Leg 5. 
On Leg 7 in Moscow, prior to a task, James & Abba had left their bags, including the latter's passport, in a waiting gypsy cab, but the cab had driven off with their bags while they performed the task. They continued the leg, but before they could check in, they were told they had to try to find Abba's passport to continue the race. Ultimately, they ended the leg in last place, learning it was a non-elimination leg, but if they were required to leave the country in a subsequent leg, they would be automatically disqualified. The entirety of the next leg remained in Russia, but they ended up in last after spending time again searching for the passport and were eliminated. As the production continued, the two had to secure an exit visa for Abba in lieu of a valid passport. According to Abba, the events of these legs occurred on the Friday and Saturday prior to a major Russian holiday, and it became difficult to work through the limited bureaucracy to do this. The two were fortunate enough that Abba's prior fame was recognized by an employee at the U.S. Embassy, and they were able to secure the visa in time to fly back to the United States on the day prior to the finale. 
Applications for The Amazing Race 21 were open until May 9, 2012. 
The cast includes The Fabulous Beekman Boys stars Josh Kilmer-Purcell and Brent Ridge, former White Lion and Megadeth metal bassist James LoMenzo, Chippendales performers Jaymes Vaughan and James Davis, double amputee professional snowboarder Amy Purdy, and former The Apprentice: Martha Stewart contestant Ryan Danz.   Rob Scheer is also the brother of former Survivor: Panama contestant Tina Scheer.  Caitlin King is the sister of model RJ King and soccer player Julie King. 
Contestant Sheila Castle suddenly died on June 19, 2016 at the age of 48. 
Future appearances Edit
Natalie and Nadiya Anderson were later selected for The Amazing Race: All-Stars, made up of returning teams from seasons 14–23.  They later competed on the 29th season of Survivor, making them the first Amazing Race contestants to compete on another CBS reality show. Nadiya was the first person voted out and Natalie won the season. On May 23, 2016, Natalie appeared on a Survivor-themed The Price is Right primetime special.  Natalie then returned to Survivor to compete on Survivor: Winners at War alongside other winners, and finished as 1st runner-up.  Nadiya also appeared on Survivor: Winners at War as part of the loved ones visit.  Natalie then competed on the thirty-sixth season of the MTV reality show The Challenge and withdrew in the fifth episode after learning that she was pregnant.  
Amy Purdy later competed in the eighteenth season of the ABC reality series Dancing with the Stars, and finished as the runner-up.  On June 9, 2014, Purdy appeared on CBS's The Price Is Right as a guest model.  On April 1, 2016, Purdy appeared on TLC's Say Yes to the Dress. 
The following teams participated in the season, each listed along with their placements in each leg and relationships as identified by the program. Note that this table is not necessarily reflective of all content broadcast on television, owing to the inclusion or exclusion of some data. Placements are listed in finishing order:
- A red team placement means the team was eliminated.
- A green ƒ indicates that the team won a Fast Forward.
- A purple ε indicates that the team decided to use the Express Pass on that leg.
- An underlined blue team's placement indicates that the team came in last on a non-elimination leg and had to perform a Speed Bump during the next leg.
- A brown ⊃ or a cyan ⋑ indicates that the team chose to use one of the two U-Turns in a Double U-Turn ⊂ or ⋐ indicates the team who received it ⊂
⋑ indicates that the team was U-Turned, but they used the second U-Turn on another team.
- ^ Gary & Will Blind U-Turned Rob & Kelley however, they had already passed the U-Turn point and were therefore unaffected by it.
- ^ In an unaired scene, Caitlin & Brittany initially arrived 6th, but had missed the clue at the U-Turn, having found Pit Stop by chance. They had to backtrack to the U-Turn to retrieve their clue. During this time, Natalie & Nadiya, Rob & Kelley, and Gary & Will checked in, dropping Caitlin & Brittany to last place and resulting in their elimination. 
- ^ Rob & Kelley initially arrived 4th, but took a boat directly to the Pit Stop instead of to Swarighat, as instructed in their clue. They had to backtrack to their boat and take the proper route. Josh & Brent checked in during this time, dropping Rob & Kelley to 5th.
- ^ James & Abba initially arrived 4th, but were not allowed to check in because Abba's passport was amongst the items stolen by their cab driver during the Roadblock. As they tried to retrieve the passport, Abbie & Ryan and Josh & Brent checked in during this time, dropping James & Abba to last place. However, Leg 7 was a non-elimination leg and they were allowed to keep racing until they came to a point where they would need to produce their passports for international travel.
- ^ In Leg 7, Josh & Brent were unable to complete either Detour before the sites for both Detour options closed for the day. They were issued a 4-hour penalty, which was assessed at the start of Leg 8.
- ^ ab Natalie & Nadiya used the Express Pass to bypass the Roadblock in Leg 8. The official website states that Natalie elected to perform the Roadblock this is reflected in the total Roadblock count. 
- ^ As they spent much of the leg trying to retrieve Abba's passport or acquire a new one, James & Abba were only shown retrieving the Speed Bump clue and traveling to the task before arriving at the Pit Stop for elimination. On the official website, Abba disclosed that he was able to complete the Roadblock, but they did not perform the Detour as they were too far behind the other teams and were instructed to go directly to the Pit Stop for elimination. 
- ^ Trey & Lexi U-Turned Jaymes & James however, they had already passed the U-Turn point and were therefore unaffected by it.
Episode titles are often taken from quotes made by the racers. 
- "Double Your Money" – Phil Keoghan
- "Long Hair, Don't Care" – Jaymes
- "There's No Crying in Baseball" – Brittany
- "Funky Monkey" – Ryan & Abbie
- "Chill Out, Freak" – Natalie
- "Get Your Sexy On" – Nadiya
- "Off to See the Wizard" – James (of Jaymes & James)
- "We Was Robbed" – James (of James & Abba)
- "Fishy Kiss" – Natalie
- "Not a Well-Rounded Athlete" – James (of Jaymes & James)
- "Take Down That Million" – Trey
The prize for each leg was awarded to the first place team for that leg. Trips were provided by Travelocity. The prizes were:
Для показа рекламных объявлений Etsy по интересам используются технические решения сторонних компаний.
Мы привлекаем к этому партнеров по маркетингу и рекламе (которые могут располагать собранной ими самими информацией). Отказ не означает прекращения демонстрации рекламы Etsy или изменений в алгоритмах персонализации Etsy, но может привести к тому, что реклама будет повторяться чаще и станет менее актуальной. Подробнее в нашей Политике в отношении файлов Cookie и схожих технологий.