83 Slices
  Title Author Publisher Format Buy Remix
Medium 9781935362593

Holidays

Julia Icenogle Kansas City Star Quilts ePub

The Bobbins’ go all out for the holidays, and somehow manage to make everything quilt-ily festive!

“Bar Gello? Is this some sort of exclusive nightclub for quilters?”

Another exciting New Year’s Eve at the Bobbins’.

Another New Year’s Resoution bites the dust.

Father’s Day at the Bobbins’

Picking Mrs. Bobbins out of a crowd has always been really easy.

A week of late-night quilting has Mrs. Bobbins ready for Halloween.

Another home hit by a growing Halloween menace: quilt gangs.

The Bobbins’ find out that quilt batting is a poor substitute for turkey stuffing.

Camping out online for Cyber Monday is a lot easier than camping out in line for Black Friday

Piece on Earth

Every year as if by magic, the Guild’s holiday party Santa outfit appears, and Mr. Bobbins disappears.

“It could be worse…at least you’re not married to a scrapbooker.”

See All Chapters
Medium 9781574411836

Desert Duel

Robert Flynn University of North Texas Press PDF

D ESERT D UEL

187

First Astronomer

The king wouldn’t send a man with her unless he intended the man to kill a pretender to the throne. If he had wanted the mother and child to live, he would have sent her to a better place than that.

Third Astronomer

Maybe they were fleeing the king to claim the baby as their own so that he would never threaten the king and could live a good and ordinary life.

Second Astronomer

If you were the son of a king, would you choose to live an ordinary life?

First Astronomer

If I were a king, I’d choose to live in Rome.

Third Astronomer

You are so political. Money and power, that’s all you think of.

First Astronomer

Right now I’m thinking a plump chicken would be good.

Surrounded by peaches on a bed of couscous floating in butter. (He sighs.) We went to the wrong place. That wasn’t a pretender to the throne. Those two, and their baby, were rejected by their families and no one else would take them in.

Second Astronomer

Sometimes that’s the only thing you can do. When you give them every chance and they fail again and again, sometimes you just have to disown them.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781935362593

Frustrations

Julia Icenogle Kansas City Star Quilts ePub

Even though Mrs. Bobbins loves to quilt, it does have its frustratingly funny moments.

“Shoot, I think I’ve quilted in the tablecloth again.”

“When you’re finished, I need you to shave this old quilt…it’s bearding, too.”

“The moths that eat my wool quilts get appliquéd over the holes they make.”

“I’m telling you, Edith, carpal-tunnel just proves that I deserve a big blue ribbon!”

“Here’s a little something to help my quilt get to the top of the queue…and no questions asked.”

Mrs. Bobbins learns the hard way always to buy extra fabric for the binding.

Overnight guests at the Bobbins’ may not be able to breathe, but they are never cold.

“It is a little bit late for Christmas peppermints. Let’s say they’re beach balls.”

A little microquilting goes a long… actually, it only goes a little way.

“I’ve been fighting this windmill so long I feel like Don Quixote.”

See All Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

The Boat From Battambang

Simon Winchester Lonely Planet ePub

Christopher R Cox is a feature reporter on the staff of the Boston Herald. He has survived Cambodia’s transport system on six trips for his newspaper and such magazines as Men’s Journal, Travel & Leisure and Reader’s Digest. He is the author of the adventure travel book Chasing the Dragon: Into the Heart of the Golden Triangle, about Burma’s narco-warlords, and can order cold beer in more than half a dozen languages. When not experiencing Third World gastro-intestinal distress, Christopher lives in Acton, Massachusetts.

The route from Battambang to Siem Reap makes a long sweep around the western shoreline of the Tonlé Sap, Southeast Asia’s largest lake, via kidney-rattling roads crowded with death-wish buses, overloaded lorries and plodding ox carts. In Cambodia, it’s an immutable fact that travel is 90 per cent perspiration and 10 per cent sheer terror. So it seemed a miracle when the Angkor Express Boat Company promised to whisk me from Battambang down the Sangke River and across the Tonlé Sap to Angkor’s doorstep in just five hours – half the time I’d spend on a sweltering, crowded bus fretting about an impending head-on collision.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780615928272

Don't Touch Me There

Dani Burlison Petals & Bones Press PDF

DANI BURLISON

an environment so far out of my comfort zone that I might as well be visiting Pluto was also a little horrifying. I needed some reassurance.

The information on the front page of the CuddleParty.com website is straightforward and nonthreatening. Yet I couldn’t erase the visions in my mind of middle-aged pony-tailed dudes cruising for young, pretty, affirmation-thumping

New Age women. As I poked around the internet, however, photos of past parties, revealing bare arms intertwining indistinguishably in a sea of flannel-pajama bottoms and overstuffed pillows, tapped into a deep fear inside of me.

Thoughts of germs and cold, clammy hands running lightly across my back while moaning and sighing mixed with enchanted dolphin music invoked visions of what I imagined would be not unlike an unwilling visit to a couple’s tantra retreat. My blood pressure rose. I laughed nervously. I decided that I needed to go and see for myself.

As we drove the streets of San Francisco, Skye already sporting his completely awesome glow-in-the-dark footie pajamas, I prayed that we would be lost for so long that they would not admit our late arrival. Being one of the most grounded and open-minded of my friends, Skye was there to calm my nerves and talk me down from the extreme anxiety I was experiencing.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781574411836

Onan Comes In From the Cold

Robert Flynn University of North Texas Press PDF

Onan Comes In

From The Cold j

When John was born, his mother said, “It’s a boy.” When Roybal was born, she said, “Another boy.” When John was a child, his mother told friends, “He’s a good boy.” When Roybal was a child, she told strangers, “I wanted another child but not this one.”

In Chillicothe Middle School, John was called Big John.

John liked being called Big John. Roybal was called Roybal and boys stretched it out and accented the last syllable—

Royyyy-bullllll. Roybal hated his name although his mother said he was named after a movie star. When he got to college where there was a library, he discovered the movie star was

Royal Ballet.

In high school Big John made good grades because he was an athlete with boyish charm and joked with his teachers. He never did homework because he was too busy chasing balls, girls, or a good time. He scored high on exams because the smart kids passed him the answers to win his smile.

Roybal made bad grades because he was smarter than his brother or anyone else in his school but he wanted to be liked and the smartest kid was never liked. He never did homework because he already knew all that stuff. He aced exams but his teachers gave him bad grades because they thought he cheated.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780615928272

The Geography Of Uncool:Public Transportation

Dani Burlison Petals & Bones Press PDF

DANI BURLISON

possibility; romance, adventure and a microscopic carbon footprint. A winning situation for me and the entire world.

To psych myself up, I thought back to several years ago when I watched Amelie every single night for an entire month in an attempt to revive my faith in love. I figured that if I watched the film often and with the naïvely optimistic, rose-tinted eyes of someone far enough away from the obliteration of heartbreak, that I’d somehow manifest some osmotic boot- knocking. Or something like that. Of course, what made the movie a complete romantic masterpiece wasn’t solely the onscreen presence of the lovely miss

Audrey Tautou or hottie Mathieu Kassovitz and their muchanticipated kiss on her doorstep, but the element of mystery, adventure and hip-quotient that Paris’ public transportation system and its depots seem to exude.

The idea of a chance encounter with a potential mate in the middle of criss-crossing strangers at a bus or train station or while daydreaming out the window, rolling swiftly toward a destination is one that I’d argue most of us have entertained at least once in our lifetimes.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780615928272

Bad Feminist

Dani Burlison Petals & Bones Press PDF

DANI BURLISON

other in so many ridiculous ways. Gallery openings, protest marches, morning cafe rushes, craft fairs, fucking Tot Time with the kids at the local library. Women pick apart other women from head to toe or ignore them completely, even though they’ve met, like, seventeen times. And even though you are standing right fucking there.

“I’m married to a successful civil rights attorney and play in the New York Philharmonic. What do you do?”

“I know. We’ve met a few times. I’m a writer, remember? We met at that charity bike ride and–”

“You don’t have the body of a cyclist at all. And you don’t really look familiar. Have I read your work?”

“Probably not.” You’re too amazing and a way better person than I am. You probably don’t even need to read and just absorb knowledge and worldly wisdom through your perfectly tight pores or your extra- long eyelashes, you evil bitch. My out-of-shape body and I will just go home now and make a voodoo doll with the button I ripped off your purse while you were bragging about your perfect kids.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

Snaking Through Italy

Simon Winchester Lonely Planet ePub

Wickham Boyle is the daughter of a foreign correspondent and an anthropologist, a combination that provided the perfect springboard for travel writing. After a peripatetic childhood, her first job was working for the international experimental theatre LaMama. Since then she has kept her bags packed and her mind open. When not on the road, she lives with her family in a funky loft in TriBeCa, a New York neighbourhood she and other artists helped colonise decades ago. She has an MBA from Yale and writes for National Geographic Traveler, Forbes, the New York Times and Uptown magazine, among others.

Experimental theatre is an acquired taste. You have to be willing to suspend disbelief and relegate logic to another quadrant of your brain. Such theatre usually involves a nonlinear plot and naked thespians writhing, chanting and emoting. There is commonly a sense of occupying a foreign dreamscape. In short, this can be the worst theatre of all, or it can be transporting. Being a producer of experimental theatre, especially on an international level, requires the ability to carry out tasks that would stop any other executive in their well-paid tracks.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

An Idyll in Ibiza

Simon Winchester Lonely Planet ePub

Karl Taro Greenfeld is the author of three books on Asia, most recently Plague: The Inside Story of the Killer Virus that Nearly Crashed the World, about the SARS virus. A former staff writer and editor for Time and correspondent for the Nation, he is currently Editor-at-Large for Sports Illustrated. Karl has lived in Los Angeles, Paris, Tokyo and Hong Kong, and now resides in New York City with his wife and two daughters.

Anya had warned me. Yet I had discounted her descriptions of her wealthy German family as exaggerated. Who wasn’t a little embarrassed by their parents? But now, as I sat at the breakfast table with the Becker family and watched them spoon huge quantities of yogurt and muesli into their mouths, pile blutwurst, cheese and ham onto thickly buttered black bread and fit entire open-faced sandwiches between their lips, gulp carafes of orange juice and pots of coffee and then light and smoke Fortuna cigarettes before commencing another round of breakfast, I felt I had landed among some race of aliens who had an entirely different notion of what should constitute the first meal of the day. I sipped coffee and had some toast. Including Anya and myself, there were nine of us around the marble-topped table on the veranda overlooking the Mediterranean. The Balearic sun was already blazing; within an hour it would be so hot that you would feel too fatigued to do the folding and refolding required to read a newspaper and would instead place the paper on your face to shield you as you slept.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781574411836

The Baptist Sex Position

Robert Flynn University of North Texas Press PDF

The Baptist Sex Position j

Some of the youth giggled when Brother Whatley mentioned

Samuel raising his Ebenezer. Brother Whatley knew right then that they needed to hear the Baptist position on sex. However,

Brother Whatley had a conundrum. He didn’t much like sex.

He was well past forty and if he had ever been interested in what he called “baser instincts” it was before he got married and bought a big screen TV. He liked talking about sex even less. When he said total abstinence he meant no sex before marriage and only when necessary afterwards. Like wedding nights or anniversaries. When he read from the Old Testament, he read “begat” in italics.

He feared that if he talked to the young people about sex, they would smirk the next time he said “begat,” elbow one another when he mentioned Abraham sporting with his wife.

They would wink the next time he spoke of the sinful pride the

Methodists exhibited in erecting their steeple or snicker when he asked the congregation to sing, “Love Lifted Me.”

See All Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

Let the Buyer Beware

Simon Winchester Lonely Planet ePub

Staying true to the flightless kiwi of his native New Zealand, Edwin Tucker rode his bicycle 36,000 kilometres across twenty-two countries. Now living in Canada, he is writing the account of his two-and-a-half-year journey, and is still dreaming of the open road.

The harsh open vastness of the Tibetan steppe is largely devoid of life; even oxygen is scarce. The sun blazes as if I have climbed closer to it than my present four kilometres above sea level. Below me, a grey ribbon of gravel, the unpaved road, lies across the yawning desert plains of southwest Tibet. Even without the effects of altitude, the scenery around me is breathtaking. The richly coloured ochre and graphite outcrops of the Himalayas shore up a navy-blue sky as if a deep sea has been turned into the heavens.

Spring is usually associated with the colour green, but not here. Not where the altitude and cold have squeezed the water out of the air to a humidity level of 10 per cent – twice as dry as the Sahara. There is nothing green here in April: no trees, no bushes. Wispy yellow straws of grass are the only vegetation.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

An Award-Winning Performance

Simon Winchester Lonely Planet ePub

Deborah Steg took her first transatlantic trip when she was two months old. Since then she has been smitten with a passion to travel. She lives in New York City.

As I was walking along the Croisette towards the far end of the Bay of Cannes, I noticed a large crowd in the distance resembling a beehive surrounded by worker bees. It was a balmy spring afternoon at the height of the Cannes Film Festival, and the sun was just starting to set. The sky was a deep cerulean blue with ribbons of white clouds streaked across the horizon. This location seemed too far from the centre of town for a photo shoot or celebrity interview, and as I approached I realised that it was just locals and tourists dressed casually and gathered curiously around the aftermath of an accident. Rather than styled and coiffed celebrities, there were several policemen on the scene and a large tow truck that was blocking the lane that led back to the centre of town.

Somehow I knew I would find my mother in the mêlée – and there she was, chatting to a very distressed looking Claudia Schiffer doppelganger. She didn’t even notice me come up behind her. From what I could piece together from overhearing the eyewitnesses’ accounts to the police, a car had come careening down the Croisette too fast and hit one of the parked cars, a white Mercedes-Benz that was now parked kerbside and looked like its driver’s side had been used in a crash test. The other vehicle, a Fiat, had not fared as well. The car had flipped over upon impact and looked like a large sardine can.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

The Garden Kitchen

Simon Winchester Lonely Planet ePub

As a young woman, San Francisco native and resident Holly Erickson ate her way across Europe, sampling the likes of reindeer stroganoff and poached whale – and much delicious food as well. She then studied literature at the University of California, Berkeley, and cooking at the California Culinary Academy. The owner of Mrs Dalloway’s Catering service, she is also writing Lights! Camera! Cuisine!, a cookbook based on cinematic food scenes, and The Devil Sends Cooks, a book about private chefs and their clients, from which ‘The Garden Kitchen’ is excerpted.

Friends of my family had bought a rambling old house in South London. They were an affable young British couple, who thought that their three-storey renovator’s delight was too big to waste on two and so had taken in lodgers. After I graduated from college, but before I’d been to culinary school, they hired me to cook. I would be given one of the vacant rooms and in return would cook for the lodgers and the food-loving couple themselves.

See All Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

Dutch Toilet

Simon Winchester Lonely Planet ePub

Doug Lansky has spent ten years travelling in over one hundred countries. He is the author of Last Trout in Venice and Up the Amazon Without a Paddle, and penned a nationally syndicated travel-humour column in North America for five years. He currently contributes to National Geographic Adventure and Esquire, and makes his home in Stockholm, Sweden, where he has not been trapped in any toilet stalls.

The most reliable, though least utilised, traveller’s oasis in any city is the library. In a foreign land, you may not be able to read the books or even get a library card, but it usually has three crucial ingredients: free high-speed Internet access, free international newspapers and free toilets. On an April morning in the town of Maastricht, Holland, I went in search of this traveller’s trinity.

There was nothing remarkable about the public library I found; no soul-moving architecture or rare-archive collection that would attract the attention of guidebook writers. It was on the small side, with a low ceiling, and like any sanctuary of literature it was warmed with those hallowed hushed whispers that you could easily mistake for prayers.

See All Chapters

Load more