There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe.

All one had to do was look at it

to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn't see another option. He may have been
able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was
something he didn't have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made
quickly.
You know that tingly feeling you get on the back of your neck sometimes? I just got
that feeling when talking with her. You know I don't believe in sixth senses, but
there is something not right with her. I don't know how I know, but I just do.
She didn't like the food. She never did. She made the usual complaints and started
the tantrum he knew was coming. But this time was different. Instead of trying to
placate her and her unreasonable demands, he just stared at her and watched her
meltdown without saying a word.
She had come to the conclusion that you could tell a lot about a person by their
ears. The way they stuck out and the size of the earlobes could give you wonderful
insights into the person. Of course, she couldn't scientifically prove any of this,
but that didn't matter to her. Before anything else, she would size up the ears of
the person she was talking to.
She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices
to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give
more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She
tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears.
She wondered if the note had reached him. She scolded herself for not handing it to
him in person. She trusted her friend, but so much could happen. She waited
impatiently for word.
I inadvertently went to See's Candy last week (I was in the mall looking for phone
repair), and as it turns out, See's Candy now charges a dollar -- a full dollar --
for even the simplest of their wee confection offerings. I bought two chocolate
lollipops and two chocolate-caramel-almond things. The total cost was four-
something. I mean, the candies were tasty and all, but let's be real: A Snickers
bar is fifty cents. After this dollar-per-candy revelation, I may not find myself
wandering dreamily back into a See's Candy any time soon.
He had done everything right. There had been no mistakes throughout the entire
process. It had been perfection and he knew it without a doubt, but the results
still stared back at him with the fact that he had lost.
She counted. One. She could hear the steps coming closer. Two. Puffs of breath
could be seen coming from his mouth. Three. He stopped beside her. Four. She pulled
the trigger of the gun.
She patiently waited for his number to be called. She had no desire to be there,
but her mom had insisted that she go. She's resisted at first, but over time she
realized it was simply easier to appease her and go. Mom tended to be that way. She
would keep insisting until you wore down and did what she wanted. So, here she sat,
patiently waiting for her number to be called.
According to the caption on the bronze marker placed by the Multnomah Chapter of
the Daughters of the American Revolution on May 12, 1939, College Hall (is) the
oldest building in continuous use for Educational purposes west of the Rocky
Mountains. Here were educated men and women who have won recognition throughout the
world in all the learned professions.
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in
pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the
vegetable man and the butcher until ones cheeks burned with the silent imputation
of parsimony that such close dealing implied. One dollar and eighty-seven cents.
And the next day would be Christmas...
He couldn't move. His head throbbed and spun. He couldn't decide if it was the flu
or the drinking last night. It was probably a combination of both.
He was aware there were numerous wonders of this world including the unexplained
creations of humankind that showed the wonder of our ingenuity. There are huge
heads on Easter Island. There are the Egyptian pyramids. Theres Stonehenge. But he
now stood in front of a newly discovered monument that simply didn't make any sense
and he wondered how he was ever going to be able to explain it.
Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been
formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these
striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age
or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000
years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a
southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet
tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen
in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also
plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today.
Many people say that life isn't like a bed of roses. I beg to differ. I think that
life is quite like a bed of roses. Just like life, a bed of roses looks pretty on
the outside, but when you're in it, you find that it is nothing but thorns and
pain. I myself have been pricked quite badly.
He wondered if he should disclose the truth to his friends. It would be a risky
move. Yes, the truth would make things a lot easier if they all stayed on the same
page, but the truth might fracture the group leaving everything in even more of a
mess than it was not telling the truth. It was time to decide which way to go.
"Begin today!" That's all the note said. There was no indication from where it came
or who may have written it. Had it been meant for someone else? Meghan looked
around the room, but nobody made eye contact back. For a brief moment, she thought
it might be a message for her to follow her dreams, but ultimately decided it was
easier to ignore it as she crumpled it up and threw it away.
There once lived an old man and an old woman who were peasants and had to work hard
to earn their daily bread. The old man used to go to fix fences and do other odd
jobs for the farmers around, and while he was gone the old woman, his wife, did the
work of the house and worked in their own little plot of land.
He took a sip of the drink. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not, but at this
moment it didn't matter. She had made it especially for him so he would have forced
it down even if he had absolutely hated it. That's simply the way things worked.
She made him a new-fangled drink each day and he took a sip of it and smiled,
saying it was excellent.
The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of owning this car
since he was ten, and that dream had become a reality less than a year ago. It was
his baby and he spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer to it.
The lone lamp post of the one-street town flickered, not quite dead but definitely
on its way out. Suitcase by her side, she paid no heed to the light, the street or
the town. A car was coming down the street and with her arm outstretched and thumb
in the air, she had a plan.
Eating raw fish didn't sound like a good idea. "It's a delicacy in Japan," didn't
seem to make it any more appetizing. Raw fish is raw fish, delicacy or not.
The red ball sat proudly at the top of the toybox. It had been the last to be
played with and anticipated it would be the next as well. The other toys grumbled
beneath. At one time each had held the spot of the red ball, but over time they had
sunk deeper and deeper into the toy box.
She's asked the question so many times that she barely listened to the answers
anymore. The answers were always the same. Well, not exactly the same, but the same
in a general sense. A more accurate description was the answers never surprised
her. So, she asked for the 10,000th time, "What's your favorite animal?" But this
time was different. When she heard the young boy's answer, she wondered if she had
heard him correctly.
There are different types of secrets. She had held onto plenty of them during her
life, but this one was different. She found herself holding onto the worst type. It
was the type of secret that could gnaw away at your insides if you didn't tell
someone about it, but it could end up getting you killed if you did.
A long black shadow slid across the pavement near their feet and the five
Venusians, very much startled, looked overhead. They were barely in time to see the
huge gray form of the carnivore before it vanished behind a sign atop a nearby
building which bore the mystifying information "Pepsi-Cola."
Sometimes it's the first moment of the day that catches you off guard. That's what
Wendy was thinking. She opened her window to see fire engines screeching down the
street. While this wasn't something completely unheard of, it also wasn't normal.
It was a sure sign of what was going to happen that day. She could feel it in her
bones and it wasn't the way she wanted the day to begin.

gather possible after making the cake.

First I use a little bit of chopped and mixed milk from my favourite milk, (which
was actually a bit too heavy for me); then I mix together the chopped pumpkin into
the cake.
Then I mix all the ingredients together; I only pour a single bit of custard into
the centre for the mixture (just in case I need to make a little bit of an extra
'cream'). I set my lid on the cake and then I set the mixture on top.
Oh that's right - I need to add the chocolate to the batter! I don't know what
happened between the last ingredients. The mixture didn't even turn on. I know, I
know, I've looked at this on Facebook and thought I got the wrong way around it and
decided I wasn't going to try it, but apparently my friend didn't like it...
*chills, squeaks* I'm all ears.
I think I'll take the "cream" and just serve it as an ode to the chocolate cake
here on the blog (for those who don't know what a chocolate cake is, it is a sort
of a mixture of cakes with a frosting underneath that is made from chocolate with
melted milk).
Pour the custard into the batter, and you're sure to add it to the egg whites very
quickly.
What do I do?
If this cake is not ready, I'll wait until it'splace land

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"This community I've grown up in is built on a foundation of fear and rejection. As

I grew up, I kept my parents' home in a corner of New South Wales and my aunt, who
taught me to hate them, kept it because she didn't want me to be angry at her, and
she didn't want me to fight with her. It was a place that was just for her. The
children were there, but all the anger was from what she used to call the 'crazy
things'. She had used that as an excuse to throw stones at people who were being
bullied. She felt like they were her neighbors. It was my mother's fault that she
believed that one person was a 'typical bad guy.' And she didn't feel like she was
doing what was right."

In her own words, the fear she was forced to face over the course of this year is
"the best form of psychological warfare. It is like a way of making us realize that
we don't know anything at all about how to act. We might believe others to be like
us. And then we feel like we've been betrayed."

If what she's saying sounds far-fetched or far-fetched to you, it really isn't. The
real danger of her story is not just with people who are fighting for her, but the
people she's accused of being wrong with. The danger of all of us being held
(unlike