Podcasts about Skirting

Kate and Jenny are turning up the heat - that's right, it's all about heating systems. It's not a topic that we're experts on, but we will take you through how we made the decisions in our previous homes around which type of boiler to choose, radiators, underfloor heating, and heat pumps. We will tell you all about the mistakes we made and the things that we would do again.Items mentioned:Combi-boilersUnderfloor heating (gas)Devimats (electric underfloor heating - for small areas)Skirting-board heating - ThermaSkirtHeat pumps (for heating and cooling)Electric radiatorsZoning - to control heating in different areas of your homeSmart thermostatsSupport the showFollow us on Instagram - Jenny is @workerscottage and Kate is @victorianrathmines

KPBS investigative reporter Scott Rodd talks about his investigation into how law enforcement agencies under-report officer misconduct. Also, La Jolla's latest secession effort hits a snag. Community college leaders are pushing back against anti-diversity edicts from the federal government. A new app developed by UC San Diego students and staff tackles depression and anxiety. And a look at the city's Promise Zone career fair for under-served communities.

All the wool is a vlog  all about handspinning yarn, processing wool, knitting, owning a wool mill, farm life and everything in between.To watch this episode on YouTubehttps://youtu.be/WgDCW-AJNNwThis episode starts at the wool mill as I blend up Romney wool, alpaca and silk. There is also washing wool and carding up the Romney blend wool. Back on the farm I walk through tips for prepping hard to handspin fibers and we do an unboxing of a fleece I received in the mail.Find me at:https://www.ewethfulfiberfarm.com/Blogging at http://www.beingewethful.com/Ravelry group: Ewethful Fiber Farm & MillJoin Ewethful's Patreon Communityhttps://www.patreon.com/EwethfulFiberMillTo ask me a questionhttps://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdkoshX7grvAiOcNxwAlUqFskm-opVlE1h_L6jmdO-CvGX8kg/viewform?usp=sf_linkFree hand spinning resources - " Ewethful's Wool School"https://www.ewethfulfiberfarm.com/pages/wool-educationFor details and to purchase the online course to  learn to handspin on wheelhttps://www.ewethfulfiberfarm.com/pages/lets-make-yarn-landing-pageFor details and to purchase the online course to learn to spin longdrawhttps://www.ewethfulfiberfarm.com/products/2256545Shop for Ewethful handspinning fibershttps://www.ewethfulfiberfarm.com/collectionsMentions in  episode:Maria Ressa, Nobel Peace Prize winner and author of "How to Stand up to a Dictator" was on The Weekly Show with Jon Stewart. March 6 2025 episodeAffiliate link:Wooleryhttps://woolery.com/?aff=352

Chiefs insider Felix Johnson from Arrowhead Addict & Field Vision drops in to talk how the Chiefs will manipulate the salary cap to sign whoever they want.

Countess Caterina Sforza was raised in the Renaissance court of Milan and survived the assassination of her father and husbands. She then proceeded to confront Cesare Borgia and his father, Pope Alexander VI. Who would win: the papacy or a woman? Get 45% off the Magic Mind bundle with my link: https://www.magicmind.com/OLDBLOODJAN #magicmind #mentalwealth #mentalperformanceSources:Allison, Charlie. “One Wrong Foot: An Alternate History of the Siege of Forli.” Sea Lion Press. 25 May, 2020. https://www.sealionpress.co.uk/post/one-foot-wrong-an-alternate-history-of-the-siege-of-forliBrunelli, Giampiero. “SFORZA, Caterina.” Treccani: Institute of the Italian Encyclopedia. 2018. https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/caterina-sforza_(Dizionario-Biografico)/Clarke, Michelle Tolman. “On the Woman Question in Machiavelli.” The Review of Politics 67, no. 2 (2005): 229–55. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25046410.Hairston, Julia L. "Skirting the Issue: Machiavelli'sCaterina Sforza," Renaissance Quarterly 53 (2000): 687-712.Lev, Elizabeth. The Tigress of Forli: Renaissance Italy's Most Courageous and Notorious Countess, Caterina Riario Sforza de' Medici (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011.)Zarevich, Emily. “Did Caterina Sforza Flash an Army?” JSTOR. 20 July, 2023. https://daily.jstor.org/did-caterina-sforza-flash-an-army/Other links:https://www.caterinasforza.it/en/https://www.lacittadicaterinasforza.it/Music: Credits to Holizna, Fesilyan Studios & Virginia ListonFor more information, visit www.oldbloodpodcast.com

Berlyne gyvenantis ir kuriantis el. muzikos prodiuseris Pijus (Pijus Krupševičius) sausio 18 d. išleidžia naujausią albumą „Dots".Albumas neįprastas ir įdomus ne tik dėl muzikinių stilių įvairovės, bet ir dėl didelio bendradarbiavimų su kitais kūrėjais skaičiaus. Kiekvienas kūrinys -vis kita muzikinė draugystė su skirtingais vokalistais iš viso pasaulio.Apie muziką, albumą ir pristatymo koncertą Berlyne - pokalbio įraše.Kalbino Rimvydas Černiauskas

This week, we revisit my conversation with “Modern Family” and “Married…with Children” star Ed O'Neill. Over some fancy sandwiches, Ed talks about dodging a career in organized crime, hanging out with Tennessee Williams, Lucille Ball and so much more. This episode was recorded at Lunetta in Santa Monica. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The Manor In The Woods By FenellaAshworth. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The landscape was almost entirely white now and dusk was starting to descend with surprising haste. As they walked, Emily observed how their route was bordered by thick, low hedges, laden with frosted, blood-red hawthorn berries and holly leaves; one of the few plants that remained green, within a mass of death and decay which mid-winter always conveyed. Continuing along the path, they soon found themselves submerged in a dark, dense coniferous forest. It was deathly quiet here, the evergreen trees packed so tightly that only the lightest sprinkling of dusty snow had so far been able to penetrate the shadowy depths. And yet the temperature seemed to have dropped even further. Emily felt a momentary waver in the high levels of confidence she'd shown, by accompanying Sam. She quietly questioned whether her normally good instincts were continuing to serve her well. ‘Still cold?' Sam asked, picking up a little on her apprehension. Unable to voice any words, she simply nodded in response. 'I always find singing warms me up. If you'll join me?' he requested. 'Sure,' she croaked, surprised at his suggestion. Causing a sudden jolt of pleasure to travel up her spine, Sam began to sing in a soft, clear voice, filling Emily's imagination with the aroma of chestnuts roasting over a gently crackling, open fire. How was it possible that this man was making her feel an excitement for Christmas that she had barely felt since childhood? And certainly not in the past few years. Immediately recalling the lyrics, as though they were pre-programmed into her very being, she shyly joined in with him. Although hesitant at first, the two of them quickly relaxed. They rattled off all manner of Christmas songs from 'White Christmas' and 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer' through to 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus'. The tunes were often accompanied by much guffawing, when they started to make up their own lyrics in the absence of knowing the correct ones, as well as adding in all manner of questionable vocal percussion. Consequently, it felt like no time at all before they were passing out of the thick canopy of trees and back into the white, snowy wilderness. Their singing naturally petered out as they trudged around the edge of a huge field which provided a much less intimate setting for vocal melodies, or lack thereof. Indeed, it would have been drowned out by the unmistakable noise of squawking pheasants and distant shotguns filling the air. Skirting beside a river, the looming silhouettes of Giant Hogweed could be seen rising out of the mist, before they turned a sharp corner to follow an alternative footpath which led them directly into a churchyard. Too tired now to be spooked by the lopsided gravestones rising creepily out of the mist, Emily simply kept her head down and focused on Sam's boots, which marched just ahead of her along the narrow path. It was all but dark by the time they wearily emerged into the main body of the village. Emily noticed that parts of the main road through the village had been cleared by helpful residents. However, as the temperatures began to plummet once more, sheet ice had formed on the exposed sections, making it more dangerous than ever. Therefore, instead of slipping and sliding her way along the icy road, Emily tucked in behind Sam and followed the channel that his footsteps had made through the deep snow. It was a route which required more strenuous effort but, on the positive side, was less likely to see her fall arse over tit, and make a complete fool of herself. As they fought their way onwards, Emily found her attention drawn to a huge, eighteenth century manor house, complete with lead-latticed windows and two smoking chimneys at either end of a long, bowing roof. Every light was blazing and a low pulse of music echoed from an open downstairs window. The place was a flurry of activity; the front door wide open, as caterers carrying various trays and boxes continuously made their way across the threshold. Whoever lived there clearly had no respect for the electricity or heating bills. 'Really well done. We've made it,' murmured Sam, sounding relieved. 'Here?' asked Emily, doing a double take. 'This is your Aunt's house?' 'Yeah,' confirmed Sam, gently dusting away the snow which had accumulated on her shoulders, before turning his attention towards his own. 'I was assuming she was a little old lady, living in a flat perhaps,' admitted Emily, her eyes wide with astonishment, as they made their way up the sweeping driveway. 'She'll love it, when she hears that,' laughed Sam, pulling off his gloves to reveal large, strong hands with clean, neatly-trimmed nails. Emily froze. In that instant, all of her attention was directed towards him, as those same hands began to unwind the scarf wrapped around his face. At last, she would see what he looked like. 'Well, please don't mention it then,' she stuttered. 'What's it worth?' he teased, leaving Emily all but speechless. Was he flirting with her? 'Darlings!' cried a woman who appeared on the doorstep. 'You poor things! How awful! Come inside!' Emily stared at her in disbelief; in her sixties, the woman that greeted them was tall, slender, elegant and incredibly attractive. She was adorned with silk scarves, expensive jewellery and an expression of uninhibited delight, as though she knew a very great secret that she couldn't wait to share. 'Emily, this is my Aunt Rosamunde,' introduced Sam proudly. 'Aunt, this is Emily Jones.' 'Rose, to my friends,' she explained, putting her arm around Emily and drawing her into the warmth of her home. 'Of which you already are.' Emily found herself unsure of where to look. Part of her wanted to soak up the interior of the amazing house into which she was now being led, but equally, she was desperate to find out what lay beneath Sam's exterior layers of clothing. 'Oh, Sammie, Darling? Before you get too comfortable, ' Rose added, glancing backwards. Excruciatingly, her words made him pause in his partial state of undress, just as he was about to remove his hat and scarf. 'Please could you grab another wheelbarrow full of logs from the woodshed and put them in the boot room? I'm sure we'll run out otherwise.' 'Only on the condition that you look after Emily, while I'm gone,' he stated, before looking directly at Emily. 'If that's okay with you, of course?' he asked. She nodded shyly in response, touched that he'd bothered to ask. 'Of course I'm going to look after her!' the older lady exclaimed. 'Then, of course, I will get you some more logs, Auntie Rosie,' he teased, walking once again into the cold evening and pulling his gloves back on. 'Oh! Get away with you, you cheeky boy!' exclaimed Rose with a chuckle. 'He always calls me that whenever I accidentally revert back to his childhood nickname. He knows full well it makes me sound like I'm a hundred years old,' she explained, hanging up Emily's dripping coat and leading her through to the kitchen. Not unexpectedly, the kitchen was incredible; a huge room, with painted white walls, infilled with thick black beams and bordered by a selection of Welsh dressers and overflowing granite work surfaces. Against one wall stood an enormous navy blue Aga throwing out a serious amount of much-welcome heat. Meanwhile, the centre of the room was taken up with a scrubbed pine table and chairs which looked as though they had served the needs of several generations before. 'Now, let's get you defrosted. How about a nice warming drink?' asked Rose. 'That would be wonderful,' admitted a lightly shivering Emily, subtly making her way towards the Aga, to share some of its precious warmth. 'A coffee would be lovely if you have one.' Almost unnoticed, one of the catering ladies who was silently floating around the room, flicked a switch to set the coffee machine into action and laid out two coffee cups, cream and sugar on the table. Meanwhile, Rose had marched to the back of the room and was scrabbling around in a cupboard. 'Or how about something a bit stronger?' she asked, waving a bottle of Whiskey above her head, whilst wiggling her eyebrows in Emily's direction. 'You could have an Irish coffee, best of both worlds?' she suggested with a smile. Giggling, Emily shook her head. 'Just a coffee would be great, for now,' she added, receiving a nod of approval from her host. 'Of course, you're right,' agreed Rose, making her way back to the table and pouring out their coffees from the jug which had seamlessly been delivered. Emily accepted the welcome beverage, wrapping her frozen hands around the cup and gratefully inhaling the steam. 'We should definitely pace ourselves. My dear, late husband would have said just the same,' she confessed, smiling fondly. 'I'm sorry,' said Emily sadly, as she received confirmation that Rose was indeed a widow. 'Oh, my dear,' she said warmly, laying her dainty hand over one of Emily's and squeezing gently. 'I knew love in my lifetime. True love, the kind that inspires people to write songs and write books and do all manner of other glorious things. So I absolutely forbid you to feel sorry for me.' 'How wonderful,' murmured Emily, sighing with deep contentment. 'Would you tell me about him?' And with great delight, Rose did just that. As she launched into the story of how they first met, Emily provided a completely rapt audience, wanting no more in that instant, than to hear their true love story. Sam returned a short while later, to find Emily and his aunt sitting cosily in the kitchen, holding hands, giggling outrageously and chatting ten to the dozen. Neither of them had noticed his arrival, so with great pleasure he simply stood and observed the two women, between which an indisputable spark of friendship had already been ignited. 'Darling!' Rose exclaimed with delight. With her concentration broken, Emily twisted around in her seat to be confronted by a sight that she knew was already being meticulously downloaded into her memory, to remain imprinted there for the rest of time. Quite simply, the most gorgeous man she had ever set eyes on, was leaning against the oak-framed doorway watching them. Utterly relaxed, with his arms folded, it was his wide smile, piercing dark eyes and perfectly messed up dark hair that immediately caught her attention. Slowly, her eyes dared to drop down and devour the rest of him. She processed every tiny detail, from his lithe body and strong forearms, right down to the thick navy blue socks he wore, stretched over his large feet. Unable to drag her eyes away, Emily's gaze tracked his progress as he loped across the room, to grab another mug from the cupboard. Although she caught only a fleeting glimpse, unbelievably his back view seemed comparable to the front. Gulping in disbelief, she looked across at Rose for support. Her host seemed unusually quiet; half smiling, half grimacing, apparently incapable of speech. Glancing down at the table, a horrified Emily realised she was tightly clenching Rose's hand. Too good-mannered to complain, relief flooded across the older lady's face when the firm grip was eventually relinquished. 'Sorry,' whispered Emily. Apologising had the added bonus of making her aware that, until that point, her mouth had been hanging open in utter shock. Swiftly rectifying her vacant look, Emily clamped her mouth tightly shut and tried to breathe as calmly as possible through her nose. There wasn't anything she could do about her flushed face, but with any luck, that could be blamed on the extremes of temperature she'd been subjected to over the past few hours. By this time, the man had joined them at the table and was pouring a steaming coffee into his own mug. Emily subconsciously licked her lips as his mouth wrapped around the cup and swallowed with contentment. The low groan he made, as that initial sip slid down his throat, caused a twinge to flutter across her tingling, already swollen pussy. This man was beyond gorgeous. Emily's mind was whirring, unable to believe he might actually be Sam. Surely this couldn't be the man she'd spent the last two hours joking and chatting with, whilst methodically annihilating Nat King Cole's back catalogue, could it? She would never have mildly flirted and nonchalantly shared a chocolate bar in the snow with a man who looked like, well, THAT. She shuffled slightly in her seat as a surge of blood pumped towards her abdomen. And then his familiar tone filled the room and her question remained unanswered no longer. God help her, it was definitely him. 'It looks like you two are destined to be great friends,' he observed wryly. Neither of the two women responded; Emily because she was speechless, Rose because she was delightedly watching Emily's reaction to the arrival of her favourite nephew. 'So, what's the big joke?' pressed Sam. 'You were laughing hysterically a moment ago and now there's nothing but silence. What's up?' Recognising the signs of Emily's distress, Rose stepped in to help. She had personally only observed a reaction like this once before in her life, decades earlier. It was etched on her heart because it was the precious night that she had met and fallen in love with her beloved husband. 'I was just sharing some stories about dear Arthur,' explained Rose swiftly, but she had already lost her audience. 'You're trembling,' observed Sam, looking kindly at Emily. 'Come on,' he said, taking another swig of his beverage before standing up. 'I'll show you to your room. Then you can have a nice long bath and warm up again.' With both of them gazing at her, as though waiting for her to take some form of action, Emily felt she had little choice but to follow Sam out of the kitchen. She wasn't entirely convinced the cold was responsible for making her tremble, but that wasn't something Sam needed to know. Instead, she allowed him to lead her through the house. Together, they ascended the grand staircase before turning off a long corridor. 'This is you,' he explained, making his way into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed. Her bag had already been delivered and placed in a wing-backed armchair. 'And the en suite is just through there,' he added, pointing towards an adjoining bathroom. 'Wow, it's amazing,' she croaked, overwhelmed by such a beautiful room. 'Thank you so much. Are there enough bathrooms for you to take a bath too?' 'Why do you ask?' he teased. 'Would you rather share?' 'No!' she gasped quickly. 'Is everything okay, Emily?' he asked with concern. 'You seem different compared to earlier,  more tense?' 'I'm fine. Thanks,' she said a little flustered. Apart from the fact she'd surmised he had children and so probably a wife, it really wouldn't do to let him know the overwhelming effect he was having on her body. 'Okay, if you're sure,' he replied, clearly not convinced. 'Help yourself to whatever you need and I'll see you downstairs when you're ready. And don't rush, I know from experience that sometimes, only a long, luxurious bath will do when you're chilled to the bone. There's tons of hot water,  always is, so don't hold back. My aunt doesn't know the meaning of the word economising!' He was just closing the door behind him when a final thought occurred. 'Oh, and don't forget to call your folks,' he added, walking back into the room and handing his mobile phone to her. 'The four-digit keycode to unlock the screen is my age,' he grinned. 'See if you can guess it.' 'Seriously?' she protested, temporarily knocked-out of her shyness. 'Yep,' he laughed. 'I'll give you a clue. The first two numbers are zero, zero. Don't forget to tell your parents you're staying with a perfectly respectable lady. Probably best not to mention her far from respectable nephew.' With a wink that made Emily's cheeks and neck flush, their eyes met lingeringly before Sam closed the door firmly behind himself. With the huge bath gradually filling, Emily took Sam's phone with a significant level of apprehension and tried to guess his keycode. Starting with an estimate of thirty-five, which was her own age, Emily gradually added one year until the phone unlocked at zero zero three nine. With a level of willpower she was unaware she possessed, Emily entered her parents' home phone number, without once scrolling through his photographs, previous texts, or any other personal information Sam had willingly entrusted her with. Her parents' relief when they realised their daughter was safe was palpable. Indeed, it only served to emphasise how right Emily had been not to contact them, before she could give them good news. Providing as much information as she could, Emily described the events of the day and her current location and plans. With a promise to try her best to see them tomorrow, although she had no idea how, she rang off and sank into the welcoming, deep, steamy bubble bath with a satisfied groan. Following several top ups of hot water, during which time she could hear more and more partygoers gathering downstairs, Emily eventually stepped out from the bath, her cold, aching body now warm, supple and relaxed. The sounds of excited chatter, clinking glasses and increasingly raucous laughter echoed up through the floorboards below. Wrapped in a thick, soft bath sheet, she wandered back into the opulent bedroom and emptied her rucksack. Her clothing choices were very limited; she was going to have to wear what she'd purchased for Christmas day. Having dressed in the dark-green, velvet dress, coupled with her favourite lace underwear, Emily felt classy, elegant and unsurprisingly sexy. It was either that or jeans and, glancing out of the window to see what some of the late arrivals were wearing, it didn't look like a jeans kind of event. Once she was satisfied with her physical appearance, Emily turned her attention to her questionable emotional state. It was time to give herself a thoroughly stern talking to. In all probability, Sam wasn't single. Besides which, he was utterly, gloriously, perfectly gorgeous. Only in her very wildest dreams would she end up with a man like that. Furthermore, it was clear he had enjoyed spending time with her on their walk, when she'd been behaving like her normal self. So acting like some love sick teenager, incapable of rational conversation, wasn't going to be helpful on any level. It would be much more sensible to just relax and enjoy their limited time together as friends. And with that mantra firmly lodged in her mind, Emily took a deep breath, retrieved his phone from her bed and drifted downstairs. The party was a roaring success. Even though the bad weather had prevented many from attending, the majority of the village had still turned out to help make it a night to remember. Emily found herself chatting non-stop, not just to Rose and Sam whom she naturally gravitated towards, but to an array of other guests, many of which were delightful company. Towards the end of the evening, Sam sidled up behind her, taking her quite by surprise. 'Dance with me?' he murmured into her ear. Looking around to see his smiling face, she felt her stomach drop with lust. Up close and personal, dressed in black tie, he truly was faint-making. 'Sure,' Emily replied, in the calmest tone she could muster. She watched in astonishment as he picked up her hand, stroked her sensitive palm gently with his thumb and led her towards the dance floor at the far end of the house. The beat was slow, sultry and purposeful as 'Please come home for Christmas' oozed out of the speakers. Gently, Sam pulled Emily's body against his own. In a heightened state of bliss, Emily lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Revolving slowly around the room, they were aware of no one but each other. With her hands placed properly around his back, she could feel his taut muscles moving beneath her fingertips and the easy sway of his hips against hers. It was, quite simply, overwhelming. Disappointment flooded her as the song naturally came to an end. When it was replaced by 'All I want for Christmas is you,' Sam readjusted his hold on her and continued to dance, causing Emily's heart to soar once more. With a wide smile, Emily was unable to prevent herself from gazing up at him, her admiration blatantly discernible. 'Is everything okay?' he asked gently. 'Everything's just perfect,' she replied, beaming. Chuckling slightly, he shook his head before laying his cheek against her forehead. 'You look beautiful tonight,' he murmured matter-of-factly into her hair, as they continued to revolve around the floor. Those words had a devastating effect on Emily's pulse, which shot through the roof as a tingle of pleasure flooded every cell in her body. They danced all the way through the tracks that followed, until the final song of the evening began to play. When the chords of 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' boomed out of the speakers and the entire party seemed to cram into a single room, Emily and Sam were forced to step apart. The time for slow dancing had concluded. It was a little after midnight when all of the guests had finally departed and the elderly house fell still once more. 'That was the best party ever!' Emily confided to Rose as she collapsed beside her on the sofa, in front of the gently crackling fire. 'Thank you so much for letting me stay.' 'I'm so pleased you enjoyed yourself, my dear. I saw you dancing with Sam,' she added mischievously, before taking a final sip from her mug of hot chocolate. 'Yes,' admitted a blushing Emily. 'We danced.' 'He's a good boy, that one,' sighed Rose as she eased herself up to standing. 'Faithful, trustworthy and very, very decent. And now I absolutely must go to sleep, so I'll say good night, dear girl.' 'Good night,' echoed Emily, watching the older lady leave the room. But listening to the muffled hum of conversation between Rose and her nephew in the hallway, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. Had Rose just warned her off Sam? Had she been trying to help her understand that he would not betray the trust of his partner; of his children? Emily gazed into the middle distance. Out of the window, thick snowflakes continued to fall silently from the dark sky. Lost in her own thoughts, she wasn't aware of Sam's presence, until he dropped down onto the sofa beside her. Luxuriously, he rolled his head around on his shoulders and stretched. 'Hey,' he growled. 'Hey,' she replied, glancing across at him. The look in his dark eyes, which danced and twinkled back at her in the firelight, forced her to inhale swiftly. 'Bed time?' he asked. Emily nodded in agreement, with no appreciation as to whether he was making a statement or an offer. As they made their way out of the room and up the sweeping staircase, curiosity prevailed. 'Won't your children miss you tonight?' Emily asked. 'My children?' he clarified, turning off lamps as they went. 'Yes, in the photo on your phone.' 'Ah, Sally and William? Probably not,' he explained. 'But I still have no doubt they'll be as excited as ever, by my arrival tomorrow. I've always spoilt my niece and nephew with an excessive amount of Christmas presents; they'll be pleased to discover that this year will be no exception.' 'Niece and nephew? Oh, right,' croaked Emily. They had come to a halt outside her bedroom door and she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Her eyes rose slowly upwards, on the off chance that a thoughtfully placed piece of mistletoe might make things easier. To her disappointment, there was only a dusty light fitting and a spider's web. 'Well, good night Emily,' said Sam softly, dipping his head to her cheek and allowing his lips to brush across her soft skin. He stayed there for a beat longer than necessary before straightening up. Smiling down at her, he nodded his head decisively. 'Happy Christmas.' 'Happy Christmas,' she murmured to his departing back, unexpectedly overwhelmed by an acute sense of loss. On the other side of the corridor, he opened his own bedroom door, paused and turned back to face her. For a long moment, they gazed at each other, although their friendly smiles had all but disappeared. Somehow, over the course of the evening, their relationship had transformed into something more intimate, perilous and demanding of attention. Emily found herself unable to do anything other than stare back, utterly spellbound. Eventually, he sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, before retiring into the bedroom and closing the door behind himself. To be continued in Part 3 By FenellaAshworth for Literotica.

The Manor In The Woods By FenellaAshworth. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The landscape was almost entirely white now and dusk was starting to descend with surprising haste. As they walked, Emily observed how their route was bordered by thick, low hedges, laden with frosted, blood-red hawthorn berries and holly leaves; one of the few plants that remained green, within a mass of death and decay which mid-winter always conveyed. Continuing along the path, they soon found themselves submerged in a dark, dense coniferous forest. It was deathly quiet here, the evergreen trees packed so tightly that only the lightest sprinkling of dusty snow had so far been able to penetrate the shadowy depths. And yet the temperature seemed to have dropped even further. Emily felt a momentary waver in the high levels of confidence she'd shown, by accompanying Sam. She quietly questioned whether her normally good instincts were continuing to serve her well. ‘Still cold?' Sam asked, picking up a little on her apprehension. Unable to voice any words, she simply nodded in response. 'I always find singing warms me up. If you'll join me?' he requested. 'Sure,' she croaked, surprised at his suggestion. Causing a sudden jolt of pleasure to travel up her spine, Sam began to sing in a soft, clear voice, filling Emily's imagination with the aroma of chestnuts roasting over a gently crackling, open fire. How was it possible that this man was making her feel an excitement for Christmas that she had barely felt since childhood? And certainly not in the past few years. Immediately recalling the lyrics, as though they were pre-programmed into her very being, she shyly joined in with him. Although hesitant at first, the two of them quickly relaxed. They rattled off all manner of Christmas songs from 'White Christmas' and 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer' through to 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus'. The tunes were often accompanied by much guffawing, when they started to make up their own lyrics in the absence of knowing the correct ones, as well as adding in all manner of questionable vocal percussion. Consequently, it felt like no time at all before they were passing out of the thick canopy of trees and back into the white, snowy wilderness. Their singing naturally petered out as they trudged around the edge of a huge field which provided a much less intimate setting for vocal melodies, or lack thereof. Indeed, it would have been drowned out by the unmistakable noise of squawking pheasants and distant shotguns filling the air. Skirting beside a river, the looming silhouettes of Giant Hogweed could be seen rising out of the mist, before they turned a sharp corner to follow an alternative footpath which led them directly into a churchyard. Too tired now to be spooked by the lopsided gravestones rising creepily out of the mist, Emily simply kept her head down and focused on Sam's boots, which marched just ahead of her along the narrow path. It was all but dark by the time they wearily emerged into the main body of the village. Emily noticed that parts of the main road through the village had been cleared by helpful residents. However, as the temperatures began to plummet once more, sheet ice had formed on the exposed sections, making it more dangerous than ever. Therefore, instead of slipping and sliding her way along the icy road, Emily tucked in behind Sam and followed the channel that his footsteps had made through the deep snow. It was a route which required more strenuous effort but, on the positive side, was less likely to see her fall arse over tit, and make a complete fool of herself. As they fought their way onwards, Emily found her attention drawn to a huge, eighteenth century manor house, complete with lead-latticed windows and two smoking chimneys at either end of a long, bowing roof. Every light was blazing and a low pulse of music echoed from an open downstairs window. The place was a flurry of activity; the front door wide open, as caterers carrying various trays and boxes continuously made their way across the threshold. Whoever lived there clearly had no respect for the electricity or heating bills. 'Really well done. We've made it,' murmured Sam, sounding relieved. 'Here?' asked Emily, doing a double take. 'This is your Aunt's house?' 'Yeah,' confirmed Sam, gently dusting away the snow which had accumulated on her shoulders, before turning his attention towards his own. 'I was assuming she was a little old lady, living in a flat perhaps,' admitted Emily, her eyes wide with astonishment, as they made their way up the sweeping driveway. 'She'll love it, when she hears that,' laughed Sam, pulling off his gloves to reveal large, strong hands with clean, neatly-trimmed nails. Emily froze. In that instant, all of her attention was directed towards him, as those same hands began to unwind the scarf wrapped around his face. At last, she would see what he looked like. 'Well, please don't mention it then,' she stuttered. 'What's it worth?' he teased, leaving Emily all but speechless. Was he flirting with her? 'Darlings!' cried a woman who appeared on the doorstep. 'You poor things! How awful! Come inside!' Emily stared at her in disbelief; in her sixties, the woman that greeted them was tall, slender, elegant and incredibly attractive. She was adorned with silk scarves, expensive jewellery and an expression of uninhibited delight, as though she knew a very great secret that she couldn't wait to share. 'Emily, this is my Aunt Rosamunde,' introduced Sam proudly. 'Aunt, this is Emily Jones.' 'Rose, to my friends,' she explained, putting her arm around Emily and drawing her into the warmth of her home. 'Of which you already are.' Emily found herself unsure of where to look. Part of her wanted to soak up the interior of the amazing house into which she was now being led, but equally, she was desperate to find out what lay beneath Sam's exterior layers of clothing. 'Oh, Sammie, Darling? Before you get too comfortable, ' Rose added, glancing backwards. Excruciatingly, her words made him pause in his partial state of undress, just as he was about to remove his hat and scarf. 'Please could you grab another wheelbarrow full of logs from the woodshed and put them in the boot room? I'm sure we'll run out otherwise.' 'Only on the condition that you look after Emily, while I'm gone,' he stated, before looking directly at Emily. 'If that's okay with you, of course?' he asked. She nodded shyly in response, touched that he'd bothered to ask. 'Of course I'm going to look after her!' the older lady exclaimed. 'Then, of course, I will get you some more logs, Auntie Rosie,' he teased, walking once again into the cold evening and pulling his gloves back on. 'Oh! Get away with you, you cheeky boy!' exclaimed Rose with a chuckle. 'He always calls me that whenever I accidentally revert back to his childhood nickname. He knows full well it makes me sound like I'm a hundred years old,' she explained, hanging up Emily's dripping coat and leading her through to the kitchen. Not unexpectedly, the kitchen was incredible; a huge room, with painted white walls, infilled with thick black beams and bordered by a selection of Welsh dressers and overflowing granite work surfaces. Against one wall stood an enormous navy blue Aga throwing out a serious amount of much-welcome heat. Meanwhile, the centre of the room was taken up with a scrubbed pine table and chairs which looked as though they had served the needs of several generations before. 'Now, let's get you defrosted. How about a nice warming drink?' asked Rose. 'That would be wonderful,' admitted a lightly shivering Emily, subtly making her way towards the Aga, to share some of its precious warmth. 'A coffee would be lovely if you have one.' Almost unnoticed, one of the catering ladies who was silently floating around the room, flicked a switch to set the coffee machine into action and laid out two coffee cups, cream and sugar on the table. Meanwhile, Rose had marched to the back of the room and was scrabbling around in a cupboard. 'Or how about something a bit stronger?' she asked, waving a bottle of Whiskey above her head, whilst wiggling her eyebrows in Emily's direction. 'You could have an Irish coffee, best of both worlds?' she suggested with a smile. Giggling, Emily shook her head. 'Just a coffee would be great, for now,' she added, receiving a nod of approval from her host. 'Of course, you're right,' agreed Rose, making her way back to the table and pouring out their coffees from the jug which had seamlessly been delivered. Emily accepted the welcome beverage, wrapping her frozen hands around the cup and gratefully inhaling the steam. 'We should definitely pace ourselves. My dear, late husband would have said just the same,' she confessed, smiling fondly. 'I'm sorry,' said Emily sadly, as she received confirmation that Rose was indeed a widow. 'Oh, my dear,' she said warmly, laying her dainty hand over one of Emily's and squeezing gently. 'I knew love in my lifetime. True love, the kind that inspires people to write songs and write books and do all manner of other glorious things. So I absolutely forbid you to feel sorry for me.' 'How wonderful,' murmured Emily, sighing with deep contentment. 'Would you tell me about him?' And with great delight, Rose did just that. As she launched into the story of how they first met, Emily provided a completely rapt audience, wanting no more in that instant, than to hear their true love story. Sam returned a short while later, to find Emily and his aunt sitting cosily in the kitchen, holding hands, giggling outrageously and chatting ten to the dozen. Neither of them had noticed his arrival, so with great pleasure he simply stood and observed the two women, between which an indisputable spark of friendship had already been ignited. 'Darling!' Rose exclaimed with delight. With her concentration broken, Emily twisted around in her seat to be confronted by a sight that she knew was already being meticulously downloaded into her memory, to remain imprinted there for the rest of time. Quite simply, the most gorgeous man she had ever set eyes on, was leaning against the oak-framed doorway watching them. Utterly relaxed, with his arms folded, it was his wide smile, piercing dark eyes and perfectly messed up dark hair that immediately caught her attention. Slowly, her eyes dared to drop down and devour the rest of him. She processed every tiny detail, from his lithe body and strong forearms, right down to the thick navy blue socks he wore, stretched over his large feet. Unable to drag her eyes away, Emily's gaze tracked his progress as he loped across the room, to grab another mug from the cupboard. Although she caught only a fleeting glimpse, unbelievably his back view seemed comparable to the front. Gulping in disbelief, she looked across at Rose for support. Her host seemed unusually quiet; half smiling, half grimacing, apparently incapable of speech. Glancing down at the table, a horrified Emily realised she was tightly clenching Rose's hand. Too good-mannered to complain, relief flooded across the older lady's face when the firm grip was eventually relinquished. 'Sorry,' whispered Emily. Apologising had the added bonus of making her aware that, until that point, her mouth had been hanging open in utter shock. Swiftly rectifying her vacant look, Emily clamped her mouth tightly shut and tried to breathe as calmly as possible through her nose. There wasn't anything she could do about her flushed face, but with any luck, that could be blamed on the extremes of temperature she'd been subjected to over the past few hours. By this time, the man had joined them at the table and was pouring a steaming coffee into his own mug. Emily subconsciously licked her lips as his mouth wrapped around the cup and swallowed with contentment. The low groan he made, as that initial sip slid down his throat, caused a twinge to flutter across her tingling, already swollen pussy. This man was beyond gorgeous. Emily's mind was whirring, unable to believe he might actually be Sam. Surely this couldn't be the man she'd spent the last two hours joking and chatting with, whilst methodically annihilating Nat King Cole's back catalogue, could it? She would never have mildly flirted and nonchalantly shared a chocolate bar in the snow with a man who looked like, well, THAT. She shuffled slightly in her seat as a surge of blood pumped towards her abdomen. And then his familiar tone filled the room and her question remained unanswered no longer. God help her, it was definitely him. 'It looks like you two are destined to be great friends,' he observed wryly. Neither of the two women responded; Emily because she was speechless, Rose because she was delightedly watching Emily's reaction to the arrival of her favourite nephew. 'So, what's the big joke?' pressed Sam. 'You were laughing hysterically a moment ago and now there's nothing but silence. What's up?' Recognising the signs of Emily's distress, Rose stepped in to help. She had personally only observed a reaction like this once before in her life, decades earlier. It was etched on her heart because it was the precious night that she had met and fallen in love with her beloved husband. 'I was just sharing some stories about dear Arthur,' explained Rose swiftly, but she had already lost her audience. 'You're trembling,' observed Sam, looking kindly at Emily. 'Come on,' he said, taking another swig of his beverage before standing up. 'I'll show you to your room. Then you can have a nice long bath and warm up again.' With both of them gazing at her, as though waiting for her to take some form of action, Emily felt she had little choice but to follow Sam out of the kitchen. She wasn't entirely convinced the cold was responsible for making her tremble, but that wasn't something Sam needed to know. Instead, she allowed him to lead her through the house. Together, they ascended the grand staircase before turning off a long corridor. 'This is you,' he explained, making his way into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed. Her bag had already been delivered and placed in a wing-backed armchair. 'And the en suite is just through there,' he added, pointing towards an adjoining bathroom. 'Wow, it's amazing,' she croaked, overwhelmed by such a beautiful room. 'Thank you so much. Are there enough bathrooms for you to take a bath too?' 'Why do you ask?' he teased. 'Would you rather share?' 'No!' she gasped quickly. 'Is everything okay, Emily?' he asked with concern. 'You seem different compared to earlier,  more tense?' 'I'm fine. Thanks,' she said a little flustered. Apart from the fact she'd surmised he had children and so probably a wife, it really wouldn't do to let him know the overwhelming effect he was having on her body. 'Okay, if you're sure,' he replied, clearly not convinced. 'Help yourself to whatever you need and I'll see you downstairs when you're ready. And don't rush, I know from experience that sometimes, only a long, luxurious bath will do when you're chilled to the bone. There's tons of hot water,  always is, so don't hold back. My aunt doesn't know the meaning of the word economising!' He was just closing the door behind him when a final thought occurred. 'Oh, and don't forget to call your folks,' he added, walking back into the room and handing his mobile phone to her. 'The four-digit keycode to unlock the screen is my age,' he grinned. 'See if you can guess it.' 'Seriously?' she protested, temporarily knocked-out of her shyness. 'Yep,' he laughed. 'I'll give you a clue. The first two numbers are zero, zero. Don't forget to tell your parents you're staying with a perfectly respectable lady. Probably best not to mention her far from respectable nephew.' With a wink that made Emily's cheeks and neck flush, their eyes met lingeringly before Sam closed the door firmly behind himself. With the huge bath gradually filling, Emily took Sam's phone with a significant level of apprehension and tried to guess his keycode. Starting with an estimate of thirty-five, which was her own age, Emily gradually added one year until the phone unlocked at zero zero three nine. With a level of willpower she was unaware she possessed, Emily entered her parents' home phone number, without once scrolling through his photographs, previous texts, or any other personal information Sam had willingly entrusted her with. Her parents' relief when they realised their daughter was safe was palpable. Indeed, it only served to emphasise how right Emily had been not to contact them, before she could give them good news. Providing as much information as she could, Emily described the events of the day and her current location and plans. With a promise to try her best to see them tomorrow, although she had no idea how, she rang off and sank into the welcoming, deep, steamy bubble bath with a satisfied groan. Following several top ups of hot water, during which time she could hear more and more partygoers gathering downstairs, Emily eventually stepped out from the bath, her cold, aching body now warm, supple and relaxed. The sounds of excited chatter, clinking glasses and increasingly raucous laughter echoed up through the floorboards below. Wrapped in a thick, soft bath sheet, she wandered back into the opulent bedroom and emptied her rucksack. Her clothing choices were very limited; she was going to have to wear what she'd purchased for Christmas day. Having dressed in the dark-green, velvet dress, coupled with her favourite lace underwear, Emily felt classy, elegant and unsurprisingly sexy. It was either that or jeans and, glancing out of the window to see what some of the late arrivals were wearing, it didn't look like a jeans kind of event. Once she was satisfied with her physical appearance, Emily turned her attention to her questionable emotional state. It was time to give herself a thoroughly stern talking to. In all probability, Sam wasn't single. Besides which, he was utterly, gloriously, perfectly gorgeous. Only in her very wildest dreams would she end up with a man like that. Furthermore, it was clear he had enjoyed spending time with her on their walk, when she'd been behaving like her normal self. So acting like some love sick teenager, incapable of rational conversation, wasn't going to be helpful on any level. It would be much more sensible to just relax and enjoy their limited time together as friends. And with that mantra firmly lodged in her mind, Emily took a deep breath, retrieved his phone from her bed and drifted downstairs. The party was a roaring success. Even though the bad weather had prevented many from attending, the majority of the village had still turned out to help make it a night to remember. Emily found herself chatting non-stop, not just to Rose and Sam whom she naturally gravitated towards, but to an array of other guests, many of which were delightful company. Towards the end of the evening, Sam sidled up behind her, taking her quite by surprise. 'Dance with me?' he murmured into her ear. Looking around to see his smiling face, she felt her stomach drop with lust. Up close and personal, dressed in black tie, he truly was faint-making. 'Sure,' Emily replied, in the calmest tone she could muster. She watched in astonishment as he picked up her hand, stroked her sensitive palm gently with his thumb and led her towards the dance floor at the far end of the house. The beat was slow, sultry and purposeful as 'Please come home for Christmas' oozed out of the speakers. Gently, Sam pulled Emily's body against his own. In a heightened state of bliss, Emily lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Revolving slowly around the room, they were aware of no one but each other. With her hands placed properly around his back, she could feel his taut muscles moving beneath her fingertips and the easy sway of his hips against hers. It was, quite simply, overwhelming. Disappointment flooded her as the song naturally came to an end. When it was replaced by 'All I want for Christmas is you,' Sam readjusted his hold on her and continued to dance, causing Emily's heart to soar once more. With a wide smile, Emily was unable to prevent herself from gazing up at him, her admiration blatantly discernible. 'Is everything okay?' he asked gently. 'Everything's just perfect,' she replied, beaming. Chuckling slightly, he shook his head before laying his cheek against her forehead. 'You look beautiful tonight,' he murmured matter-of-factly into her hair, as they continued to revolve around the floor. Those words had a devastating effect on Emily's pulse, which shot through the roof as a tingle of pleasure flooded every cell in her body. They danced all the way through the tracks that followed, until the final song of the evening began to play. When the chords of 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' boomed out of the speakers and the entire party seemed to cram into a single room, Emily and Sam were forced to step apart. The time for slow dancing had concluded. It was a little after midnight when all of the guests had finally departed and the elderly house fell still once more. 'That was the best party ever!' Emily confided to Rose as she collapsed beside her on the sofa, in front of the gently crackling fire. 'Thank you so much for letting me stay.' 'I'm so pleased you enjoyed yourself, my dear. I saw you dancing with Sam,' she added mischievously, before taking a final sip from her mug of hot chocolate. 'Yes,' admitted a blushing Emily. 'We danced.' 'He's a good boy, that one,' sighed Rose as she eased herself up to standing. 'Faithful, trustworthy and very, very decent. And now I absolutely must go to sleep, so I'll say good night, dear girl.' 'Good night,' echoed Emily, watching the older lady leave the room. But listening to the muffled hum of conversation between Rose and her nephew in the hallway, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. Had Rose just warned her off Sam? Had she been trying to help her understand that he would not betray the trust of his partner; of his children? Emily gazed into the middle distance. Out of the window, thick snowflakes continued to fall silently from the dark sky. Lost in her own thoughts, she wasn't aware of Sam's presence, until he dropped down onto the sofa beside her. Luxuriously, he rolled his head around on his shoulders and stretched. 'Hey,' he growled. 'Hey,' she replied, glancing across at him. The look in his dark eyes, which danced and twinkled back at her in the firelight, forced her to inhale swiftly. 'Bed time?' he asked. Emily nodded in agreement, with no appreciation as to whether he was making a statement or an offer. As they made their way out of the room and up the sweeping staircase, curiosity prevailed. 'Won't your children miss you tonight?' Emily asked. 'My children?' he clarified, turning off lamps as they went. 'Yes, in the photo on your phone.' 'Ah, Sally and William? Probably not,' he explained. 'But I still have no doubt they'll be as excited as ever, by my arrival tomorrow. I've always spoilt my niece and nephew with an excessive amount of Christmas presents; they'll be pleased to discover that this year will be no exception.' 'Niece and nephew? Oh, right,' croaked Emily. They had come to a halt outside her bedroom door and she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Her eyes rose slowly upwards, on the off chance that a thoughtfully placed piece of mistletoe might make things easier. To her disappointment, there was only a dusty light fitting and a spider's web. 'Well, good night Emily,' said Sam softly, dipping his head to her cheek and allowing his lips to brush across her soft skin. He stayed there for a beat longer than necessary before straightening up. Smiling down at her, he nodded his head decisively. 'Happy Christmas.' 'Happy Christmas,' she murmured to his departing back, unexpectedly overwhelmed by an acute sense of loss. On the other side of the corridor, he opened his own bedroom door, paused and turned back to face her. For a long moment, they gazed at each other, although their friendly smiles had all but disappeared. Somehow, over the course of the evening, their relationship had transformed into something more intimate, perilous and demanding of attention. Emily found herself unable to do anything other than stare back, utterly spellbound. Eventually, he sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, before retiring into the bedroom and closing the door behind himself. To be continued in Part 3 By FenellaAshworth for Literotica.

Many of President-elect Donald Trump's announced cabinet nominees are well respected and will likely have an easy path to Senate approval. Others, not so much. So Trump has proposed doing something no president has ever done before: Skirting the Senate approval process altogether via recess appointments. This appointment scheme delegitimizes Trump's cabinet picks, sets a […]

Many of President-elect Donald Trump's announced cabinet nominees are well respected and will likely have an easy path to Senate approval. Others, not so much. So Trump has proposed doing something no president has ever done before: Skirting the Senate approval process altogether via recess appointments. This appointment scheme delegitimizes Trump's cabinet picks, sets a dangerous precedent for future administrations, and is likely unconstitutional. John Yoo is the Emanuel Heller Professor of Law at the University of California at Berkeley, a Nonresident Senior Fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, and a Visiting Fellow at the Hoover Institution and Stanford University. Yoo was a law clerk for Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, the general council of the Senate Judiciary Committee, and the former head of the Office of Legal Counsel in the Justice Department. His most recent book is The Politically Incorrect Guide to the Supreme Court (Regnery, 2023) with Robert Delahunty.Read the transcript here. Subscribe to our Substack here.

In this episode of Model Railroad Talk, the host discusses various aspects of model railroading, focusing on layout skirting and preparing for operations. The conversation begins with an introduction to the podcast and its purpose, followed by a detailed exploration of layout skirting, its benefits, and practical tips for implementation. The latter part of the episode delves into preparing for model railroad operations, emphasizing the importance of understanding the purpose of the layout, the industries involved, and the frequency of operations. Like what you hear, check out our YouTube channel as well for videos!!! www.ModelRailroadTalk.com ModelRailroadTalk@gmail.com www.Patreon.com/ModelRailroadTalk

This week's episode of RV Hour, hosted by CEO Larry McNamara of Giant Recreation World, brings you Episode 89, where we dive into an exciting and informative discussion on Ways to Make Your RV Self-Sufficient. Larry shares tips and tricks on how to outfit your RV with the right tools and gadgets to go off-grid and enjoy independent camping. From solar panels and water filtration systems to energy-efficient upgrades, Larry will cover the essential items you need—most of which are available in our fully stocked Parts Department. Plus, every new RV purchase at Giant Recreation World comes with a gift card to our parts department, so you can kickstart your journey to off-grid living with the right gear! We'll also showcase some incredible deals from our exclusive GRW Hot List featuring select RVs that offer unbeatable prices. This week, we're highlighting a stunning New 2024 Forest River Riverstone 39RKFB in Palm Bay, FL, on sale for only $133,977—that's only $236 a week. Don't forget, all new and select pre-owned units come with a Lifetime Warranty at No Cost to You—it's part of the Giant Recreation World promise to ensure your RV experience is hassle-free for years to come. Whether you're planning to hit the road for a cross-country adventure or preparing for full-time RV living, this episode will give you all the advice you need to make your RV fully self-sufficient. Come visit us at any of our 3 convenient locations in Palm Bay, Ormond Beach, or Winter Garden to explore our incredible lineup of RVs. Or check us out online anytime at www.GiantRecreationWorld.com. Don't miss out on this week's episode filled with tips, deals, and exciting RV news!

Will Najee Harris finally have a big day in Indy? Aaron Jones' return to Green Bay. Tight end decisions. Skirting around injuries. All that and more in this week's fantasy sports podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This is the second episode of a two-part activity on "Skirting Steroids in Atopic Dermatitis", supported by an educational grant from Arcutis Biotherapeutics, Inc., and hosted by expert dermatologist Dr. Christopher Bunick, MD, PhD. This episode, "New Therapies and Expert Strategies for Long-term Control", featuring expert dermatologist Dr. Jonathan Silverberg, MD, PhD, MPH, discusses the following topics: The pros and cons of steroid use in treating AD Targeted non-steroidal topical therapies approved by the FDA Relevant clinical efficacy and safety data for new and emerging non-steroidal topicals Recommendations for long-term symptom control in AD patients

Florida is trying to ram through commercial development at state parks with little public oversight. | Frommer's

This is the first episode of a two-part activity on "Skirting Steroids in Atopic Dermatitis", supported by an educational grant from Arcutis Biotherapeutics, Inc., and hosted by expert dermatologist Dr. Christopher Bunick, MD, PhD. This episode, "Dangers and Side Effects of Steroid Exposure in Treatment of AD", featuring expert dermatologist Dr. Peter Lio, MD, discusses the following topics: Side effects of topical and oral corticosteroid exposure Pearls and gaps in current guidelines for treatment of AD Identifying topical steroid withdrawal symptoms Safety and stewardship strategies for topical steroids Future of non-steroidal advanced topical therapies for AD   Record Date: 8/6/2024

Microsoft announced its departure from the OpenAI board, citing improved governance within the startup. The company's relationship with Inflection AI faces an initial merger investigation in the UK, despite their claim that it isn't an acquisition. This relationship involved hiring the startup's co-founders, most of its 70-person staff, and licensing its technology. The EU Commission dropped an earlier probe into Microsoft's relationship with OpenAI in June. Microsoft's ongoing AI ventures, including a $40 million funding round for Armada led by its venture arm M12, draw increasing scrutiny from regulatory bodies.Learn more on this news visit us at: https://greyjournal.net/news/ Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Victorian Hedonism comes to life. By BradentonLarry - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The two girls held a whispered conference on the big bed, and then Sage was pushing Reyansh away. She said, “Hold on one sec, lover; I want to try something.” There was a very quick rearrangement, during which Don never had to leave Felicia's sweet embrace. Then Sage was laying with her head hanging over the edge of the bed, as Felicia lowered her mouth to Sage's pussy and clit, which she proceeded to lick and suck. Felicia's ass was up in the air, and Don continued to fuck her from behind. Then Sage beckoned to Reyansh, “Bring that big boy over here.”Eager to comply, he lowered his hard cock for Sage so she could take it into her mouth and then her throat. Sage held his hips to keep her from getting carried away, but he was free to fuck her throat, and that's exactly what he began to do, reaching forward to cup and squeeze Sage's tits in his hands. Don looked down to see his relatively thick cock sliding in and out of Felicia's tight pussy, Felicia's perfect ass, her slender back, the back of her head with her adorable pixie cut, Sage's taut abs and strong thighs, her breasts being manhandled by Reyansh, her beautiful throat as she let him use it, and Reyansh's dark, athletic body as he worked himself in and out of Sage. It was a beautiful spectacle! Don could tell from the way Felicia was moving her right arm that she was fingering Sage as she licked. It didn't take too long before one of Sage's hands went from Reyansh's hip to the top of Felicia's head, and then it was only a minute longer before Sage was writhing on the bed between Felicia and Reyansh as she had a long, intense orgasm. As she shook and trembled, Reyansh pulled his now dripping wet cock out to let her breath. “Damn! That was a good one!” Sage breathed. “It looked like it,” Don grinned from across the bed. Sage sat up and grinned back at him, before curling up to grab Felicia's face and kiss her deeply. Reyansh got up on the bed behind Sage and coaxed her up onto her hands and knees. Then the two women were kissing in the middle of the bed as the two men fucked them from behind. No one was trying to come; they were just enjoying themselves kissing and fucking. After a little bit of this, Sage broke the kiss, and looked over Felicia's shoulder, smiled at Don and asked, “Are you enjoying her hot pussy, Don?” “Oh yes!” he grinned. “Are you enjoying Reyansh's big dick inside you?” “You know,” she laughed. “I really am.” “Good!” “I agree, but I was thinking… You know how I had all those dicks fucking me earlier?” “I do,” Don nodded. “It was very hot!” “Yeah it was! But I don't remember sweet Felicia here having more than one dick at any time.” “Is that right?” “Reyansh,” Sage asked over her shoulder, “did you see Felicia getting more than one cock?” “No, I certainly didn't.” All through this exchange, Felicia had done little more than giggle and push back on Don's cock. “Well, this won't do at all,” Sage decided. “Stop fucking me and get over here and feed Felicia your cock.” Don held still until Reyansh was in position, but then he went back to fucking little Felicia harder, shoving her forward onto the cock in her mouth and throat. Sage crawled over to him and kissed him deeply before bending down to reach under Felicia to play with her clit. Before they could get Felicia to the breaking point, though, Sage stopped and asked Don, “She's got a pretty tight little ass, do you think you can fit inside it?” “I could certainly try,” Don laughed. Felicia murmured her approval around Reyansh's cock. “Don't be so quick, sweetie,” Sage said. “You're going to have a cock in your pussy too.” Felicia's murmur was more enthusiastic, and she managed to nod her head rather emphatically. In another minute, Sage had Reyansh lie on his back and then Felicia mount him, bending forward so Don could push his cock, slippery with Felicia's juices, slowly up into her very tight, very hot ass. Sage leaned on Don's shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Fuck her ass good, baby. Make her come between you two studs!” “Yes, ma'am,” Don grinned, and proceeded to begin fucking Felicia's ass intently. Long, slow strokes gradually became shorter and faster. All the while Felicia was rocking her pelvis between the two men and groaning with pleasure. Sage move around to get down on her hands and knees so she could kiss Felicia, who could do little but let herself be kissed. “Do you like having those cocks fucking you?” Sage asked. “Yes,” Felicia moaned. “It feels so good.” “Are you going to come on their hard cocks?” “Uh huh,” Felicia breathed. “Very soon.” “Do it, baby!” Sage said as she stroked Felicia's pretty face. “Come for us!” “Oh god, yes!” Felicia cried as her body began to spasm between the two men. She shook and clenched, her pussy and ass pulling and grasping at the cocks inside her. Sage leaned in again and kissed her deeply. “Good girl,” she smiled. Then she looked over Felicia's shoulder and asked, “Did you come? No? What about you down there? No? Well! We'll have to fix that, won't we? You two were partners in the game, right? You met in Rendezvous, right? Very good. Don and I are partners too, so I think we should finish this swap right. Reyansh, I want you to give me your cum wherever you want, and Don, you come for Felicia.” Don slowly drew out of Felicia's ass so she could let Reyansh get out from under her. He took her in his arms and asked her, “Where do you want me to come, Felicia?” “Please fuck my ass some more, Don,” she said as her hand went to his cock. “But let me ride you.” In short order, Don was lying next to Sage. She had her legs wrapped around Reyansh's waist, while he held her wrists up over her head as he drove into her pussy. Don was holding his cock erect for Felicia, who was squatting over him, pushing her tight ass down over his flaring head and thick shaft. Felicia leaned back with her hands on Don's thighs and began to raise and lower herself on him. Reyansh was driving into Sage's pussy with abandon, grinding against her clit and surely bottoming out in her grasping pussy. He was looking into her eyes as he fucked her harder and faster. Soon, both of them were groaning and clenching on the bed next to Don and Felicia as Sage's pussy was eagerly pulling a flood of hot cum out of Reyansh's cock. Don found the fact that he was lying next to Sage as she climaxed on another man's cock intensely erotic. The thought that she was yet again getting filled with cum only made the situation hotter! Don began to arch his back to fuck up into Felicia's ass, and reached down to use his thumb to play with her clit. Then there was motion on the bed next to them, and Sage leaned across Don to replace his thumb with her mouth on Felicia's clit. Reyansh stood up on the bed and offered Felicia his cock to clean off. Don lay back and watched the beautiful woman riding his cock take Reyansh's cummy cock into her mouth and suck on it hungrily, and felt Sage's fingers against the base of his cock as she pushed them up into Felicia's pussy. Then Felicia was coming again, moaning around the cock in her mouth and pushing down on Don. This was all Don could take and he felt his body shoving up into her ass as his balls tightened and his cock swelled inside her. Then he was arching his back, pushing up on Sage and into Felicia as he erupted, pumping a geyser of hot cum up into her. Very slowly, assisted by Reyansh, a quivering Felicia fell backwards, letting Don's cock slip out of her. Sage immediately caught it and took it into her mouth, claiming the last of his cum for herself. When she managed to get up on one arm and look at Don, Sage smiled and said, “Another shower?” Don laughed, utterly smitten by the sleepy, well-fucked look in her eyes and her messy mane of red hair, and said, “Sure, but if you think you're getting more sex out of me…” She kissed him quickly and said, “We'll see about that.” Then she was clambering over him and pulling him out of the bed. Reyansh was lying there cradling Felicia in his arms, and Sage called back to them, “Don't take all the covers; we'll be back.” As the water poured over them, in a brief break in their making out and hurried cleaning, Sage looked up at him and asked, “So, out in the other world… um, are you seeing anyone?” Don chuckled, bent down to kiss her, and then picked her up. She threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, sinking down on his cock. Don's hands gripped her ass and slowly raised and lowered her. He smiled and said, “Well, I have this relationship with Toshia that's gotten interesting, but, as you know, she's got a girlfriend, but, actually, I was thinking I would like to be seeing you. If you're free, that is.” “I think we can work something out,” she smirked. “I take it we're going to be swingers, or something like that.” “That does seem to be the way things are going,” he kissed her again. “How does that sound to you?” “Hum, pretty damn good. Just remember…” “I belong to you,” he nodded. “Aye, and, for the record, in case you were wondering, vice versa,” she said as she flexed herself against him, working up and down and grinding against the base of his cock. Don grinned, “Yeah, I worked that out.” “But we share.” “Right.” “And if we get a chance, we're banging the hell out of Toshia,” she said. “Of course.” “Good,” she kissed him. “Now fuck me. I want to have one more orgasm before we go to bed.” “Greedy girl,” he smiled. “Hell yeah!” “There was a lot more sex on the Riverboat, and we spent some time at the Resort.” “Did she really say that about me?” Toshia asked. “I swear,” Don chuckled. “Uh, I do like the sound of that,” she smiled. “But you were saying.” “Yeah, we did the Jungle Room, naturally, and I showed her the Temple. She got gangbanged in the Grotto, which is a very wet area, as you might expect.” “How many guys? In the gangbang, I mean.” “It's not a competition, you know,” Don laughed. Toshia rolled her eyes at him. “There were about a dozen, plus me.” “Yes! Still the champion!” Toshia grinned. “Well, that was before her trials, so…” “Doesn't count,” Toshia said. “Seriously?” “I have ruled. Okay, you can go on with the story.” Chapter 7. Lady Primrose's Earrings As he and Sage made their way to the Crimson Mountain, Don was acutely aware of their impending separation, and the fact that they might remain apart for quite some time. Accordingly, he made sure they had a variety of plans for meeting up, if possible, leaving messages, when the opportunity presented itself, etc. Passing through the Manor they would leave word with the Scholar, and then linger about there at least for a few days. Passing through the Resort they would both check in with the Sheriff and leave word with the Sage. “I'll try to remember that,” Sage laughed. “Yeah, and I'm trying to get used to thinking of you as Evelyn,” Don smiled. Don also told her about the Wizard as a potential ally whose home might be a good meeting place, and the Witches of the Glen who might be helpful. Of course, they also thought the Maidenhead might be useful, even if they couldn't be too sure it would long remain in Megan's control. In turn, Evelyn told him about a cafe in the bazaar on the far side of the sea, and they agreed to check in at the tavern on the beach and Ambrosia's when in the vicinity of Rendezvous. When they got to the locker rooms in the Hall of the Crimson Mountain King, they bathed, but Don made a point of retrieving the staffs the Wizard had given him and Shelonda what seemed so long ago. Stephanie had had no real experience with such things, and Nicole was positively averse to using any kind of weapon. Evelyn, though, had some martial arts training, though it was mostly in aikido, and definitely had no problem with weapons. “Too bad we don't have swords,” she mused as she spun the enchanted wooden staff in her hands. Having been made for Shelonda, it was just about the perfect size for Evelyn. “God, you're hot!” Don grinned as he admired the way the muscles in her arms and wrists moved as she played with the staff. “Oh, we should have gotten bows and arrows from the elves!” Don groaned, “Ugh, why didn't I think of that?” She laughed, “Well, you're not the only one who didn't.” “On the other hand,” he mused, “it doesn't seem like we're very likely to be called upon to fight anyone. Still, an unbreakable staff can be a useful tool.” “Hard wood can definitely be good to get your hands on,” she smirked. It turned out that, as long as they bathed and were naked, the red-robed servitors had no problem with letting them proceed into the Pleasure Dome and seemed to pay no attention at all to the staffs. “Holy hell!” Evelyn breathed as they entered the vast chamber, momentarily stunned by the scale of both the room and the orgy going on in it. “Yeah,” Don nodded. They proceeded to the circular couch in the middle of the dome, Evelyn taking in the spectacle as they went. “The king's throne is that away, but I want to see if we can just ride the sofa up,” Don said. “But first, come with me. I want to have some time with you before we head up.” He led her down to the base of the stairs, where they set their staffs off to the side, out of the way but close at hand, and made love for what might be the last time in a long while. Though a few of the other revelers offered to join in, Don and Evelyn kept to themselves this time. When they were finally worn out, they made a quick trip to the nearest fountain to clean up and then returned to the sofa. With their staffs across their laps, and their hands tightly clasped, they rode the couch up to the waiting room. “Damn!” Evelyn grinned. “This is not safe at all!” “I'm starting to suspect it's not actually that dangerous,” laughed Don, “but I'm not about to test that theory.” “Good! I'll be pissed at you if you kill yourself testing something like that.” “Aw that makes me all warm inside,” he grinned. “Oh, you're right, this is a bit anticlimactic,” Evelyn said as they came to a halt in the waiting room. “Told ya,” he smiled. “Hi, Gladys! Miss me?” After a wait that seemed both rather too long and excruciatingly quick, Gladys announced that ‘they' were ready to see Evelyn. She took her staff and got up, but Don pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. He gave her ass a long squeeze, smiled, and said, “Don't forget me, gorgeous.” “Unhand me, sir!” she laughed. “I will not be kissed and fondled by strangers!” “Well, that's just not at all true,” he grinned and kissed her again, focusing all his passion for her in this one last embrace. Don watched her exquisite ass as she crossed to the “Interviews” door, smiled encouragingly as she looked back before going through, and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. He had gotten very fond of Evelyn indeed. Eros, and his own schemes, kept separating him from loved ones—first Toshia, then Shelonda and Nicole, and now Sage… Evelyn. He was as down as he had been in Eros when Gladys let him know that he could go in and wasn't in much better of a mood as he sat down opposite Pamela and the other watchers. He kept his hand on his staff, just in case he was abruptly teleported away. Task Two: Lady Primrose's Earrings. “Welcome back, Don,” Pamela nodded. “I would say that you completed your first trial with flying colors. We expected you to sleep with Captain Sage, not convince her to come back here with you and undertake her own set of trials.” “I didn't really convince her,” Don frowned. Pamela shrugged, “That's not really important. You did, clearly, finish the task adequately. We assume you're ready for your second trial…?” Don nodded, “Yes. Bring it on.” “We want you to bring us Lady Primrose's emerald earrings.” “Uh, Lady Primrose? I've never heard of her,” Don worried. “How will I find her or her earrings?” “That might well be part of the trial, Don,” Pamela pointed out. “However, in this case, we'll help you with that.” “I appreciate that,” Don smiled. “Is there anything else I should know?” “There is quite a lot you should know.” Don arched his eyebrow at the hint of a sense of humor, then said, “Okay, I guess I'm ready.” “One more thing, though, Don: no more strays.” Then Don found himself standing in the middle of a street in what seemed like a small English town. It seemed to be early morning. The buildings had a decidedly quaint English countryside feel to them, and Don suddenly realized that he was fully clothed, wearing khaki slacks, shoes and socks, and a pastel polo shirt, with a light sweater tied by its sleeves around his shoulders. He was still holding his staff. Between the clothes and the mundanity of the town, Don thought this was the oddest place he'd yet seen in Eros. “Just a little town?” Toshia frowned. “That does seem strange.” “Oh, believe me, it gets weirder,” Don chuckled. The Town of Shagbottom There seemed to be some larger buildings down the road, so Don headed that way, in the hope of finding someone who could direct him to a “Lady Primrose.” As he went, he found himself enjoying the peace and quiet, and noticed that there were birds singing. All in all, it was a very pleasant locale. He was walking down the middle of the street—there didn't seem to be any sign of cars—and had just cleared the first intersection, when he finally saw signs of human life. The front door of the house on Don's right opened and out stepped a tall, thin fellow wearing a dark business suit and carrying a briefcase. This man turned around to receive a kiss goodbye from a woman wearing a brightly flowered dress, and then headed down a paved walkway through his neatly manicured front yard toward the street. Up and down the street, Don saw this basic ritual played out again and again over the next couple of minutes. Apparently, all the men in this town… no, there were a few women, also in business suits… left home at pretty much the same time in the morning, to go to work…? Half expecting everyone to head off in the same direction, Don paused in the street to watch as the townsfolk joined him. However, they seemed to have different destinations in mind. The man who had come out first turned right at the street, walked down three houses, crossed the street, looked both ways to make sure no one was paying attention to him, pushed open the front gate in front of him, and quickly made his way to the front door of that house, loosening his tie as he went. Every person seemed to have a similar course of action, going from their “home” to another house in the neighborhood, in a bizarre, chaotically choreographed pattern. After a minute or two, Don was again alone in the street. “Well, okay then,” he chuckled before continuing down the street. At what Don assumed was the center of town, he found establishments with names like “The Shag' Odeon,” “Mabel's Sundries,” “The Morning Whip” (with a sign adding, “Start Your Day with the Crack of Dawn!”), and “The Cum Inne.” Don considered where to begin but quickly decided that the apparent newspaper was so different from what he would normally expect in Eros that he had to start there. He pushed the door open, triggering a bell overhead, and a pale woman with dark red hair brushing her shoulders looked up from her desk behind a counter, smiled, and with a very English accent said, “Good morning. Welcome to Shagbottom!” Although Toshia would later fail miserably, Don managed to not laugh at this, but did have to pause and say, “Pardon me?” “Welcome to Shagbottom!” she repeatedly cheerfully. “Do you have some news to report?” “Ah, no, but… the name of this town is Shagbottom?” “That's right: Shagbottom of county Wrenchester.” “Okay,” Don was having an extremely hard time keeping a straight face. He looked back out the window that made up the front of the shop, saw the theater sign again, and just shook his head. Thinking of the other signs, he asked, “The inn's name… what's the abbreviation for?” “To shorten a longer word,” said a voice with another English accent from a woman who popped out from behind a shelf that was heavy with stacks of papers. She had lovely brown skin and black wavy hair that was cut short. She continued, “You know how you might want to save space, so instead of writing out all of ‘abbreviation,' you just use a-b-b-r period.” Don pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Yes, thank you, but I meant 'what does the c-u-m period stand for in the hotel's name?'” “Oh,” the darker woman frowned. “You know, I'm not terribly sure. Ophelia?” The other woman looked up again, “Oh, hello Anna. I'm over here.” “Good morning,” Anna said as she moved closer to the front of the shop and the counter that separated the women from Don. “Do you know what the abbreviation in the inn's name stands for?” “Oh, excellent,” Ophelia smiled. “How many letters?” “Well, more than three, I should think,” Anna said. “That doesn't narrow things down much, does it?” frowned Ophelia. “Do you have any of the letters?” “Well, c-u-m, clearly,” Anna cast a sideways look at Don and shook her head. “'Cummerbund'?” “That seems a bit of a stretch,” Anna said. “Don't cummerbunds usually stretch a bit?” “Well, yes, I suppose, but that's not really to the point, is it?” “'Cumberbatch'?” “Don't be ridiculous, dear; that's not even a word.” “'Cumulative'?” “'The Cumulative Inne'?” “Why ever not?” Ophelia wanted to know. “It doesn't make sense.” “It certainly does,” Ophelia said a bit defensively. “'My score of twenty was the cumulative in our four games.'” Anna shook her head in exasperation. “That's not well said, though, is it?” Ophelia shrugged. “In any case,” Anna persisted. “We were talking about 'inn' with two ns, and sometimes a silent e.” “We were? Why didn't you say so?” “This gentleman here was asking about the name of the inn. What did you think we were talking about?” “Abbreviations, wasn't it?” “Well, yes,” Anna nodded with some exasperation, “but one abbreviation in particular.” “I see,” Ophelia said thoughtfully. “But then, if this is the abbreviation about which we're inquiring, it might be the abbreviation of someone's name, mightn't it?” “I suppose that's true, love. Good point,” Anna smiled. “But then why couldn't it be 'Cumberbatch'?” Anna's eyes threatened to roll all the way up into her skull as she exclaimed, “That's the most ridiculous name ever! Who would ever consent to call themselves such a ludicrous thing?!” “Well, who are we to judge?” Ophelia shrugged. “I don't suppose you would object to someone's being called Cumberbatch if she had a very nice pair of tits, or if he had a big pecker, now would you?” “What are you trying to say, exactly?” “One shouldn't judge someone on the basis of their name, but on the things that really make them who they are,” Ophelia smiled, clearly thinking she had won this round. “I'm not suggesting one should judge anyone on the basis of their name, Ophelia. I'm saying that we should judge their name on the basis of its being quite ridiculous. 'Cumberbatch' indeed!” Before things could get any more heated, Don, who was having a very hard time not laughing, interjected with, “Ladies, please! I really don't need to know about the inn.” The two women glowered at each other for a moment, and Anna took the opportunity to clearly mouth the word “ridiculous” at Ophelia, before she said, “Very well. Good morning, sir. How may we be of service?” The first thing that occurred to Don when Anna asked him that was that this was the first time someone had given him an innuendo-laden opening like that while completely dressed in a long time. Surely, he could probably say he could use a blowjob, and at least one of the two attractive women would be happy to oblige. This was Eros, after all. On the other hand, the fact that they were dressed, and he actually had a mission to accomplish, led him to the conclusion that he probably should get some information out of the two of them, if that was actually possible. He was about to ask about Lady Primrose, when Don realized he wanted to ask about something else first. “I was wondering, what exactly do you do here?” “We write and print the daily newspaper, of course,” Anna smiled. “Very good,” Don nodded, “and what goes in the newspaper?” “All the news!” Ophelia enthused. “We keep the good people of Shagbottom informed on all the goings on.” “Such as?” “What's playing at the 'Odeon, any new toys at Mabel's, notices of special events,” Ophelia started. “Coverage of said events,” Anna added as she leaned on the counter in front of Don. She had undone a few buttons of her blouse. Ophelia got up and began moving toward her partner, as she continued with, “The daily lottery results, the crossword, interviews with prominent citizens…” “And of handsome newcomers,” Anna smiled. “Oh, that's a good idea, Anna,” Ophelia nodded. Don smiled back at them, flattered by the attention and amused by the turn toward more typically Erosian matters. Then, though, he realized he had more questions. He started with, “What kind of special events?” “Socials, parties…” Anna said. “Garden parties!” Ophelia cut in. “Well, yes, those are included in parties, aren't they dear?” “Naturally, but aren't socials just another sort of party?” Ophelia asked. “I think it's the other way 'round,” Anna frowned. “Either way 'round, then, you started it.” Don decided to jump in before the conversation got too far afield again. “So, mostly parties, eh? Anything else?” “Most of the special events are parties, it's true,” Anna nodded. “They're very nice parties, though,” Ophelia said. She had followed Anna's lead and started unbuttoning her top. “Everyone has such a splendid time.” Don smiled at them, guessing that the parties in Shagbottom probably turned into orgies at some point. He decided to ask, “And you said something about a lottery…?” “Oh yes, that's very important, of course,” Anna nodded, as she shrugged her blouse off her lovely brown shoulders, exposing her full breasts. “What do lottery winners win?” Don asked, taking a step toward the counter and the women as he untied the arms of the sweater around his neck. “What do they win?” Ophelia was a bit confused. She had tossed her top aside and was now shimmying out of her pencil skirt. “Oh, it's not that kind of lottery exactly,” Anna said as she stood up from removing her own skirt. She pushed a sheet of paper across the counter to Don and said, “Here.” On the page were two columns of addresses. Don looked at them as he took off his shirt but couldn't see any pattern or meaning. Anna hopped up on the counter, and pointed to the left column, saying, “This is each couple's address…” “Well, if they picked up their ticket for the day,” Ophelia pointed out. She had moved over to a gate in the counter Don hadn't paid any attention to and was coming over to Don's side of the room. “Yes, certainly, it wouldn't do at all to make people play who didn't want to,” Anna smiled as she spun around on the counter, her long, stockinged legs and stiletto-heeled shoes flying over Don's head. Don smiled at briefly at the sight of Anna's bare, pink pussy, and then realized, “Oh, the other column is the addresses of where people go for the day when they leave in the morning.” “Exactly,” Anna smiled as she spread her legs and scooted up to the edge of the counter. She crooked a finger at Don and asked, “Care to join us for our early morning break…? Oh, how rude of us! What was your name?”Gretchen's Hospitality at Lady Primrose's Estate. Toshia couldn't help but laugh all through the story of Don's encounter with Anna and Ophelia. By the time he was wrapping that up, the two of them had stopped and sat down on a bench in a secluded part of the park. If it had been a bit more secluded, Toshia thought she'd probably break her rule and give Don a blowjob right here. All the sex shenanigans she was picturing had gotten her rather worked up, and she really just wanted to suck on his cock. Of course, that wasn't all she wanted to do… It wasn't that secluded, though, so she managed to behave. However, she did enjoy snuggling up against him, his arm around her shoulders, as he continued his story.“So, yeah,” he said, “after the early morning break, and with a lot of patience, I was able to learn that Shagbottom was basically a rather stable community of people who paired up, somehow, and then enjoyed a rather thorough swinging lifestyle. Each day, but just during the day, they swapped partners, if they participated in the lottery the day before. They rejoined their ‘spouses' at night. Every few days there were social events, or parties, that were pretty much excuses for more partner swapping and/or orgies.” “It sounds like your kind of place,” Toshia smiled. “And not yours?” “Well, yeah, that was implied.” It was afternoon, the three of them had given up on clothing, Don was reclining in a chair with Anna curled up in his lap, and Ophelia was sprawled across her desk with a happy post orgasmic smile on her face, when Don finally got around to, “So, I need to find a Lady Primrose…” “Oh, yes, she's lovely!” Anna purred enthusiastically and bit sleepily. “Her garden parties are the best!” Ophelia added. “She makes sure to invite everyone in town.” “You'll like her,” Anna nodded. “She's the sweetest, poshest lady.” “Folks say the garden parties aren't even the sexiest ones she has,” Ophelia rolled onto her side to look at Don with a conspiratorial glimmer in her eye. “She has masked balls with lords and ladies from all over. It's all very classy and mysterious!” “Oh, hush, Ophelia,” laughed Anna. “That's just gossip. Lady Primrose doesn't put on airs. She's just a nice, friendly, normal person.” It was time for Don to reinsert himself in the conversation. “Well, can you tell me where to find her?” “Of course,” Anna chuckled. “She'll be up at Heolfor House, if she's not traveling.” “And you can direct me to this ‘Heolfor House'?” Anna kissed the side of Don's neck and said, “Certainly, but don't you want to stay for Hazel and Bob's get-together tonight?” Of course, it was nearly impossible for Don to resist such an enticing invitation. It turned out that Hazel had a hankering for bukkake that night and Don was happy to help the local men scratch that itch. By the time he set off down the road for Heolfor House he had decided that the odd little town of Shagbottom was quite the friendly place. The Morning Whip's headline that morning read “Stranger Comes to Town, & All Over Hazel's Tits.” Heolfor House The walk from Shagbottom to the side road that bore a sign reading “Heolfor House” was long enough to discourage idle wandering in but short enough to be a pleasant walk through the countryside. Don thought he must look quite mundane with his clothes and walking staff, and he had to admit this was perhaps the most “normal” day he had spent in Eros so far. He paused at the signpost and wondered where the road would take him if he just kept walking. With a shrug, Don decided that would have to wait for a return trip to the county of Wrenchester and started up the much narrower path toward Heolfor House. Flowering trees grew close to the path, spreading their branches overhead, making for a lovely, shady walk. On the left, through the trees, Don could make out what looked like a cemetery, with a carefully manicured lawn and ornate headstones, as well as what seemed to be moss-covered tombs. The many flowering shrubs and the sunshine gave it a very welcoming appearance, offsetting the fact that this was the first indication of anything like mortality in Eros. Don doubted that anyone was really buried there, but surely someone must have graveyard fantasies to live out. He filed this away to ask about when he got the chance. At the end of the path, Don came to a big arch of heavy rocks that seemed quite ancient, as if the archway predated the path and even the surrounding forest by millennia. Certainly, it seemed much, much older than what Don found on the other side, and what Don found looked pretty old. A broad gravel path spread out in front of him leading directly up to the front of an enormous manor house. There seemed to be three main floors, with smaller floors above and twin towers rising on either end of the facade. All along the edge of steepled roof were spiky ornamentations. Heavy curtains hung in the many windows, and the stonework emphasized both the run of the floors and the way the mansion rose up over the viewer. In retrospect, the Manor had had a southern French, or Mediterranean, feel, while this was decidedly English. The fact that there was a fountain between him and the entrance to the building as well as exquisitely groomed green hedges spreading out around this courtyard somehow only slowly came into Don' attention. There was just something about Heolfor House that drew his attention. Even though the day was sunny and warm, and he knew he was still in Eros, there was somehow something off about this building. It just didn't seem to fit, though Don had to admit that it actually seemed a perfect fit for the whole English countryside fantasy. Anyone who had any Upstairs, Downstairs or Downton Abbey kinks would love this place! Skirting the fountain, Don crossed to the big double doors and pressed the button on one side. When there was no response, he pressed again. He was about to press a third time when the door on the right opened enough for a tall, bald man in a dark suit to look out at Don with clear disapproval. “Hello,” Don smiled. “I'm, uh, hoping to speak with Lady Primrose.” “Are you expected, sir?” the man said. His tone clearly indicated that he knew full well what the answer would be. “No, I'm afraid not.” The man, who Don was assuming must be a butler, gave him a look that conveyed the fact that Don's existence in that moment and place was quite possibly the most inconvenient thing in the universe. He said none of this, though, but only said, “Her ladyship is not receiving callers at the moment.” “Would it be possible for me to wait?” Don smiled again. “Of course, it would, sir,” the butler frowned, clearly annoyed that he was being asked such a trivial question. There was a long pause, before Don decided he would have to prod further. “May I wait, perhaps inside?” The butler's expression never changed but his eyes managed to tell Don that he was personally contributing a great deal to the overall misery in the world. Still, he intoned, “Certainly, sir, please do come in.” The entry hall was, of course, massive, with an extremely high vaulted ceiling from which a dazzling chandelier hung. Dark wood paneling covered every surface, and broad curving stairways flowed up to the second floor. Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls. After getting his name, the butler led Don to the left, pushed open a tall, slender door, and said, “If you would be so kind as to wait here, sir.” Don stepped into a narrow high-ceilinged sitting room with thick, dark carpeting and a large fireplace taking up most of the right-hand wall. The sunlight from one window cut the room in half; what wasn't glowing brightly was almost black in contrast. Tiny motes of dust floated lazily in the yellow light. As the butler shut the door behind him, Don stepped toward the window, hoping to get a look out at the gardens he thought must be outside. But as he drew near, a voice addressed him in a cultured British accent, “Here for the party?” Don turned and peered into the shadowy corner to the right, opposite the door by which he'd entered. He took a couple of steps, out of the sunlight, and said, “Party?” “Just calling to pay your respects, then?” said the dark-haired man in the corner. He was slouched in an armchair. There was a woman kneeling between his legs with her head in his lap. He was wearing black slacks and a dark shirt that was unbuttoned, exposing an athletic chest and abs. She was wearing a pastel blue, backless dress, and had light blonde hair. She was quite intent on the blowjob she was giving. “I suppose that's right,” Don nodded in answer to the man's question. “There's a party, though?” “That's right, tonight,” the man held up his finger as he closed his eyes and smiled. After a long moment of silence, he said, “Everyone who's anyone will be there. Get up, Cessily' and say hello to our new American friend.” The blonde stood up easily, took a step back and turned to smile at Don. She wiped a bit of cum away from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and said, “Hello there.” The dark-haired gentleman stood up, tucking his cock back in his trousers, and crossed to Don and extended his hand. As Don shook his hand, the other man said, “Lucien, and this is my sister Cessily.” Don suddenly had a number of questions but couldn't decide which to ask first and what was clearly rude, so he just said, “Don. I'm very pleased to meet you.” Cessily glided up next to her brother and smiled at Don with the kind of open sexual interest he'd grown so used to in Eros. She batted her brown eyes at him and said, “It's so good to have some fresh blood for one of these parties.” “Oh, well, I'm honored, I think,” Don smiled. Cessily was certainly charming. “I'm really just here to have a chat with Lady Primrose.” “Ah, well, it is her party,” Lucien smiled, with much the same undercurrent as his sister's smile. “There's no reason you can't have your cake and eat it too, is there?” Don frowned a little as he tried to sort out Lucien's question, but then the butler cleared his throat on the other side of the room. Don peered through the light, couldn't see clearly enough, took a few steps in that direction. The butler didn't wait for him, but said, “Sir, her ladyship is indisposed, but asks you to accept her invitation to tonight's party.” “That would be great,” Don smiled. “I'm afraid I don't have the proper attire, though.” The butler paused, as if to make it clear that Don was continuing to make his life an unendurable hell, and said, “We will endeavor to correct that situation, sir.” “Oh, well, that's great,” Don nodded. He turned back to say something to Lucien and Cessily, but they had already left, presumably through the door Don now noticed between the armchair in the corner and the fireplace. With a quick shrug, Don followed the butler back out to the entry foyer. Picking up a bell from a little table in the corner, the butler rang twice and then waited until a young woman in a black and white French maid outfit hurried in through a door at the foot of the far staircase. She was short, but had very nice long legs, and had dark brown hair that was pulled back into a bun and seemed to be quite long. She wore a black choker around her lovely, thin neck. She was trying to straighten her uniform as she hurried over to the butler and Don. “Gretchen, please show this gentleman to an available room and help him prepare for the party,” the butler said in a way that seemed to imply that Don would need a great deal of help indeed. “Yes, sir, of course sir,” Gretchen said with an adorable English accent as she bobbed her head and managed to smile at Don, batting lovely blue eyes up at him all the while. She began to turn toward the stairs, and said, “Please come this way, sir.” Quite happily, Don followed the young woman up the stairs, using the time to admire her gorgeous legs with the stockings that ran up to the middle of her firm thighs and the way her bare bottom and the lower lips of her pussy could be seen peeking out from under her short skirt. Gretchen led Don up several flights of stairs and then down a shadowed hall with a big window at the end, turning at last to a door, which opened to a large bedroom. “You may use this room during your stay, sir,” Gretchen smiled. “There are clothes here in the closet.” She opened the door to an enormous walk-in closet and led the way in. There were indeed quite a few suits available and, given his experience in Eros, Don had little doubt that he would find something that fit him nicely. Then Gretchen was bending at the waist in front of him, saying, “And down here are shoes.” Don couldn't resist reaching out and running his hand over her perfect, pale behind. When she did nothing to pull away, he gave her bum a squeeze and then lightly ran his finger over her labia. He could feel that they were already dewy, and there was a bit of pearly cum leaking out of her. Don remembered her straightening her uniform and realized what she must have been up to before the butler had summoned her. Don parted her lips and smeared some of the cum he found there down over her clit. “Uh, that feels very nice, sir,” Gretchen purred. “If you don't mind my saying so, sir.” “Oh, I don't mind at all,” Don chuckled. Since she didn't move away or stand up, Don pushed his thumb into her cummy pussy and started using his fingers to play with her clit in earnest, caressing and squeezing her young ass with his left hand. Gretchen pushed back toward him and murmured, “Oh, sir!” Somewhat clumsily from recent lack of experience, Don undid his pants with his left hand to free his now rather hard prick from its confines. He hadn't had any sex all morning and early afternoon, which in Eros seemed a rather long time, and the way this very fetching young woman was bent over in front of him and responding to his manual stimulation was easily enough to inspire a nearly painful erection. Without waiting for any further invitation, Don pushed his cock down and replaced his thumb in her pussy with the head of his penis. As he pushed into Gretchen from behind, she moaned happily and pushed back against him. With the heat of her tight, wet vagina wrapped around him, Don fought off the physical impulse to come immediately, but only barely. Soon, Gretchen was supporting herself with her left hand on the low cupboard that housed the shoes she'd been showing Don while the fingers of her right were strumming furiously across her clit, and Don was plowing into her violently, holding her slender waist in his hands and pulling her petite body back onto his straining cock. Don suspected her earlier play had been interrupted before she was able to climax because it didn't take long at all before she was shuddering and gasping as she came on him. Then she was on her knees in front of him, one hand on the base of his thick shaft pumping him, as she sucked enthusiastically on his head. Her pretty little face was intensely sexy as she looked up at him with her lovely blue eyes. “Oh, God!” Don groaned as he felt himself swelling in her hand and mouth. Gretchen pulled back off him, but began to stroke him even harder, and said, “Yes, sir, please come for me.” Instinctively, Don pushed forward as his whole body clenched around the base of his cock. Gretchen smiled up at him and kept stroking his shaft until she was rewarded by an explosive gout of cum shooting out and across her sweet face. Don trembled and groaned as another burst of cum splashed onto her and then another. Still looking up at him with her blue eyes, Gretchen sucked his cock back into her mouth and proceeded to swallow the rest of his orgasm. When she finally released him, she said, “Thank you very much, sir.” “Wow!” Don breathed. “And thank you, Gretchen.” He thought to ask her to call him 'Don,' but he decided he quite liked the way she said 'sir.' “It's my pleasure, sir,” she laughed as she stood up. She paused a moment to lick some cum off her lips and to wipe some off her nose. She promptly sucked her finger clean, and then said, “Perhaps you would like me to draw you a bath, sir.” Naturally, for Eros, the room came equipped with a large, luxurious bathroom, and Gretchen joined Don for a long, extremely enjoyable bath. She stripped out of her uniform but kept on her little hat and the choker Don found so sexy. As they engaged in a rather wet session of foreplay masquerading as bathing, Don was able to ask a few questions. He started with, “How long do we have?” Gretchen smiled sweetly as she pulled on his hardness beneath the water, “As much time as you need, sir.” “Oh, well, need and want are two very different things,” Don chuckled as he leaned in to kiss her firm breast and flick his tongue over her hard nipple. “But I mean until you have to go back to work.” She sighed and pulled Don's head down to her breast again, while squeezing his cock a bit tighter. She said, “I am supposed to attend to any of the guests' needs, sir, so…” “But won't you be needed for … other things?” “There are other staff, sir, and if I'm missed I'll only get a spanking, which I don't mind much,” she winked. He smiled up at her as he slipped two fingers up inside her and asked, “Well, then, how long until the party starts?” “Oh,” she bit her lower lip as she rocked on his hand a bit, “the parties never start until after dark. So, a couple of hours, I should say, sir.” “Never?” Don asked as he released her nipple from his mouth. “Even the garden parties I've heard so much about?” “Oh, yes, those are so lovely, but they always begin after sunset. Lady Primrose does so love the nighttime, and the gardens are so beautiful all lit up with candles.” “I'd love to see them,” Don smiled as he stood up in the tub. Gretchen smiled at the hard cock that was now standing out before her. She ran her hand lightly over it and leaned in to give it a kiss, but Don took her hand and drew her up to kiss her sweet mouth and then to lead her out of the tub. After they had dried off some, they made their way back out to the bedroom where they found quite a few ways to spend the next hour and a half. Don's favorite moment came after Gretchen had let down her very long hair to cascade down over her shoulders like a cape as she rode slowly on him, leaning forward with her hands on his shoulders to look into his eyes. He ran his hands up over her slender naked body, caressing her tits and then slipping around her neck, fingers brushing over the choker she still wore. “Tighter, please, sir,” she sighed. As Don gently squeezed her throat, restricting her breath and circulation, Gretchen smiled, nodded, and whispered, “Yes, tighter!” A bit concerned, Don obliged. Gretchen's face darkened a bit, and then she was trembling with a long, silently intense orgasm. When he relaxed his grasp, she smiled down at him with an utterly unfeigned gratitude and affection. After a much briefer bit of cleaning up, and making sure that Don actually found a suit to wear to the party, Gretchen got back into her uniform, this time with her dark hair in a long, thick ponytail, gave him a quick, surprisingly chaste kiss, and left him to his own devices. Don checked himself out in the mirror and thought he was party ready. He was wearing black slacks, jacket, and shoes, and a dark red shirt, which was open at the neck. He had been a bit surprised that there were no ties to be found in the closet, but Gretchen had assured him that this was deliberate. “The lady doesn't like neckties,” she had said as if she were saying nothing more interesting than “she doesn't like Brussel sprouts.” Toshia fixed Don with a skeptical eye and a cocked brow. Don laughed and said, “Yeah, yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Stepping out into the hallway, staff in hand, Don noted that there were two other guests making their way to the stairs. Don caught up to the black gentleman just before either made it to the top of the stairs, and the tall east Asian woman coming from the other end of the hallway met them there. “Hello, I'm Don,” he smiled, extending his hand first to the man on his left. “Good evening, I'm Jerome,” the fellow smiled in return. Don guessed that Jerome was at least ten years older than himself, though he knew time and aging in Eros were tricky affairs. Jerome had very dark skin, wore his hair and beard, which were sprinkled with some grey, buzzed short. He was also wearing a dark suit, but with a white shirt, and seemed to have an athletic build. “Bian,” the beautiful young woman smiled as she shook each of the men's hands. She had lovely green eyes and curly dark brown hair brushing her shoulders. She was quite tall and wore a deep green floor length dress that left her long neck and sculpted shoulders bare. “Is this your first time to one of Lady Primrose's parties?” Don asked as they started down the stairs. “Yes,” Jerome nodded. “I was quite surprised to be invited.” Don frowned to himself a bit and asked, “And how were you invited, exactly?” “A lady friend suggested I would enjoy it, and the next thing I knew I was here,” Jerome explained, apparently without realizing there was anything odd about his story. “I see,” Don nodded. “Do you mind if I ask where you were talking to your lady friend?” “Oh, well, we were both visiting a lovely resort.” Don smiled and said, “I see. And what about you Bian? Is this your first time, too?” “Yes,” she said with a slight nod and smile. Don thought she didn't have a British accent, but also concluded that she was disinclined to engage in a long conversation. As they descended to the ground floor, Don noticed in passing, as they passed a few windows, that the sun was setting and it would soon be dusk. He felt a bit awkward carrying his staff along, but he was also quite glad to have it along. Candles were now illuminating the stairs and hallways, casting wan light and creating deep shadows. Don had seen no one lighting the candles, but by now he was used to these things happening on their own. On the ground floor, gathered in the entry hall, were about 20 other guests, waiting for the party to begin. Jerome and Bian slipped into the crowd, as Don looked around a bit. He was a bit surprised when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning he saw a couple he had met just the night before. “Cheers, Don,” grinned Rodney, a big, cheerful redheaded guy who had helped with Hazel's bukkake. Right next to him was Marilyn, the slender, middle-aged, brown-haired woman who had been introduced as Rodney's partner last night. She and Don had not done anything together at the party, but for a moment Don thought it would be very nice to correct that oversight. Don smiled back at them, “Good evening! I didn't know you'd be here tonight.” “Neither did we,” Rodney laughed. “We won the weekly raffle.” “Ah, I didn't know there was a weekly raffle, either.” “Ay, every week!” the big guy laughed again. “Is this your first time?” “Sure is,” Rodney nodded. “Posh house, in'it?” “It certainly is,” agreed Don, “and the staff is quite accommodating.” “Oh! 'Sounds like you've had a good afternoon,” Rodney chuckled. “I did,” Don smiled, finding it impossible not to get caught up in Rodney's enthusiasm. “Oh, but please excuse me for a moment.” Don had just caught sight of the butler and had come to an abrupt decision. Taking a few steps to intercept the taciturn man, Don said, “Excuse me, my good fellow.” The butler turned on him with an expression that clearly indicated he was not amused by Don's attempt to assimilate to the culture. With what seemed a herculean effort, he said, “Yes, sir, how may I be of assistance?” “I was wondering if it would be a problem for me to leave my staff here over there in the corner by the door.” “Why should that be a problem, sir?” “I don't know, but I don't want to put anyone out.” “I'm sure no one will be 'put out,' sir.” “And no one will move it?” “Ah, well, I cannot speak for everyone, sir, but I can assure you that myself and the rest of the staff will leave your walking stick unmolested.” “Thank you,” Don smiled, partly because he got the impression his cheerfulness was a personal affront to the butler. By the time Don had propped his staff in the aforementioned corner and turned back to the gathering of guests, the large double doors into the ballroom had been opened and everyone was gradually moving inside. Don found himself bringing up the rear. To be continued. By BradentonLarry for Literotica

Jonas Kazlauskas prisiminė savo krepšinio kelią, palygino skirtingų šalių žaidėjų mentalitetą ir atskleidė, ko trūksta rinktinei. Temos: Įžanga (0:00); J. Kazlausko studentavimo laikai (02:43); Vasaros Kinijoje, žiemos Graikijoje (10:40); Devyneri metai iki „Žalgirio“ (16:58); Sunki pradžia Kauno „Žalgiryje“ (19:17); 2 „Ryto“ titulai per trejus metus (25:28); Graikijos fanai ir Azijos olimpinės žaidynės (26:39); Skirtingų šalių sportininkų psichologija (35:09); Įsimintiniausios rungtynės (38:37); Auganti jaunoji karta ir ko trūksta rinktinei (49:03).

Amex has long had rules against getting a new welcome bonus for a card you've had before. Now, they've expanded those rules to include "families" of cards. In this episode we'll help you navigate this confusing and tedious concept. (01:31) - With pointsyeah a reader found an interesting redemption for ANA first class... but found a great discount for “suffering” in economy to HND. (Mailbag) Read more about Avianca LifeMiles' awesome mixed-cabin award pricing - First Class for less (05:15) - Southwest Companion Pass with one business card (Card Talk) Find out more about the Southwest Premier Business Card here Find out more about the Southwest Performance Business card here (18:14) - Bilt rent day promo (Award Talk) (19:42) - Alaska Airlines transfer bonus, up to 100% (Award Talk) Read more about the Alaska / Bilt transfer bonus here (24:18) - Alaska Airlines status match (Award Talk) (29:20) - Bilt Neighborhood dining (Award Talk) (32:09) - Hilton adds more SLH properties (Award Talk) (37:50) - Choice removes 35K cap on their points prices in the US (Award Talk) (39:22) - We've updated some of our RRVs (Award Talk) (44:46) - Use Virgin points to book AF/KLM (Award Talk) (50:23) - Fiji airways to adopt AAdvantage miles (Award Talk) (52:09) - Read more about Greg's Predictions here (2024 Predictions Half-Way Check Point) (54:55) - Read more about Nick's predictions here (2024 Predictions Half-Way Check Point) (56:27) - Read more about Stephen's Predictions here (2024 Predictions Half-Way Check Point) (58:38) - Read more about Tim's Predictions here (2024 Predictions Half-Way Check Point) (1:01:27) - Read more about Carrie's Predictions here (2024 Predictions Half-Way Check Point) Main Event: Navigating Amex's Welcome Bonus Family Rules (1:03:24) - About Amex's "Pop-Up Prison" (1:06:58) - Family types (1:09:08) - How to find the rules. Look for "Offer Terms" (1:12:16) - Skirting the pop-up prison (1:18:01) - What sites do you like the best, apart from your own? (Question of the Week)

0:00 - Rich NBA teams can afford to circumvent the cap. It's what the Warriors did during their dynasty, and what the Celtics will most likely do to keep their core together.17:10 - There's a high school basketball player who's almost 8 feet tall. That's it. We're done. Genetics have gone too far.34:54 - The Nuggets vs Heat finals drew more viewers than this year's Boston vs Dallas finals. So much for markets. More people cared about this sleepy little cow town than your precious Boston. 

Navigating HR compliance can feel daunting for HR professionals nevermind for business owners or NFP execs! Today's episode is here to provide an overview of the rules and laws that may affect how you hire, manage, and pay employees. This is the second in the series for SMBs aiming to help small and medium business owners and NFPs navigate people issues and avoid some of the major pitfalls. In this episode, I discuss:

“Skating” by Herbert Asquith When I try to skate,My feet are so waryThey grit and they grate:And then I watch MaryEasily gliding,Like an ice-fairy;Skimming and curving,Out and in,With a turn of her head,And a lift of her chin,And a gleam of her eye,And a twirl and a spin;Sailing underThe breathless hushOf the willows, and backTo the frozen rush;Out to the islandAnd round the edge,Skirting the rimOf the crackling sedge,Swerving closeTo the poplar root,And round the lakeOn a single foot,With a three, and an eight,And a loop and a ring;Where Mary glides,The lake will sing!Out in the mistI hear her nowUnder the frostOf the willow-boughEasily sailing,Light and fleet,With the song of the lakeBeneath her feet. Hi, I'm Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It's a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today's Pickled Poem?   Email pickledpoemspodcast@gmail.com and let me know what you thought about today's episode. I'd love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems.    Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the ⁠Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast⁠, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too.    Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I'll see you next week! ⁠https://www.humilityanddoxology.com/pickledpoemspodcast⁠

In this special episode we will be exploring the incredible life of Pan Am Captain Robert Ford, a trailblazing flying boat aviator that found international fame with an unscheduled flight round the globe. And we welcome back to the program Pan Am 747 Captain John Marshall that knew Pan Am legend Captain Robert Ford and recorded an interview with him in 1994 shortly before he died.Excerpts of this rare interview are played and you will get to hear the actual voice of Captain Ford talking about his aviation career in the late 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s!In December of 1941, Captain Ford was ferrying mail and passengers from San Francisco to New Zealand aboard a Pan Am Boeing 314 flying boat named the Pacific Clipper.On December 7, 1941, Japanese forces attacked Pearl Harbor and Captain Ford was ordered to evade the enemy and prevent the Japanese from capturing the aircraft for its technology.  Skirting the trouble zone and watching for enemy aircraft, he headed the flying boat west over Australia, India and Central Africa, then crossed to South America, eventually making a safe landing at the Marine Terminal at what is now La Guardia Airport in New York on Jan. 6, 1942.The entire trip covered 31,500 miles in 209.5 hours of flying time, some of it over war territory. The Clipper had a range of 4,500 miles, and its longest single flight was 3,583 miles across the South Atlantic from Central Africa, to Brazil. Captain Ford, who was then 35 at the time, called his round-the-world flight "a purely routine operation."Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1906, Captain Robert Ford earned his wings as a naval aviator before joining Pan American Airways in 1933. He flew Pan Am's routes in Central and South American, as well as, the Caribbean before transferring to the Atlantic division in 1939, flying Clippers between New York and Lisbon. He shifted to the Pacific route in July 1941. Before his round-the-globe journey, he had completed some 50 flights across the two oceans.After retiring in 1952 from Pan Am, Captain Ford became a cattle rancher in Penn Valley, California, north of Sacramento. He died in October of 1994 at the age of 88. At the time of his death, he had been a rancher for 45 years.Special thanks to Captain John Marshall, board member of the Pan Am Museum Foundation, for allowing this program to use his 1994 interview with Captain Ford. --------------------Visit Us for more Pan Am History! Support the Podcast!Donate to the Museum!Visit The Hangar online store for Pan Am gear!Become a Member! Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter!--------------------A very special thanks to Mr. Adam Aron, Chairman and CEO of AMC and president of the Pan Am Historical Foundation and  Pan Am Brands for their continued and unwavering support! Support the show

Klimato kaitos rubrika. Apie šampūnų ir kitus mėginukus viešbučių voniose. Juos norima uždrausti Europos Sąjungoje, kad būtų sunaudojama mažiau plastiko.Pokalbis su lituanistinio mokytojo premiją laimėjusia Airijos lituanistinės mokyklos „Gintarėlis“ vadove ir lietuvių kalbos mokytoja Donata Simonaitiene.Pernai Europoje įregistruota beveik 80 skirtingų vaistų. Vienas jų sukurtas pagal Lietuvoje sukurtą technologiją. Diskusija apie vaistų vartojimą ir kiek jie apskritai pasiekiami visuomenei.Taip pat pasakojimas apie genealogiją. Daugybė Vyžuonų krašto žmonių džiaugiasi, jog Alvydas Malinauskas padėjo daugiau sužinoti apie savo šaknis.Ved. Urtė Korsakovaitė.

This episode is presented by Carolina Readiness Supply – While many North Carolina school districts are complying with the new Parents' Bill of Rights law, some are acting in defiance of the recently-passed statute. Please note: Google Podcasts are merging into YouTube Music. See details here.  Get exclusive content here!: https://thepetekalinershow.com/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Skirting the festive season, Tuesday Terrors brings Quiet Please in the 21st Century- Final Rehearsal, We're Alive Chapter 37.2, and Tales of Mystery and Horror- The Bastard! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Skirting the festive season, Tuesday Terrors brings Quiet Please in the 21st Century- Final Rehearsal, We're Alive Chapter 37.2, and Tales of Mystery and Horror- The Bastard! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Manor In The Woods By FenellaAshworth. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The landscape was almost entirely white now and dusk was starting to descend with surprising haste. As they walked, Emily observed how their route was bordered by thick, low hedges, laden with frosted, blood-red hawthorn berries and holly leaves; one of the few plants that remained green, within a mass of death and decay which mid-winter always conveyed. Continuing along the path, they soon found themselves submerged in a dark, dense coniferous forest.  [[MORE]] It was deathly quiet here, the evergreen trees packed so tightly that only the lightest sprinkling of dusty snow had so far been able to penetrate the shadowy depths. And yet the temperature seemed to have dropped even further. Emily felt a momentary waver in the high levels of confidence she'd shown, by accompanying Sam. She quietly questioned whether her normally good instincts were continuing to serve her well. ‘Still cold?' Sam asked, picking up a little on her apprehension. Unable to voice any words, she simply nodded in response. ‘I always find singing warms me up. If you'll join me?' he requested. 'Sure,' she croaked, surprised at his suggestion. Causing a sudden jolt of pleasure to travel up her spine, Sam began to sing in a soft, clear voice, filling Emily's imagination with the aroma of chestnuts roasting over a gently crackling, open fire. How was it possible that this man was making her feel an excitement for Christmas that she had barely felt since childhood? And certainly not in the past few years. Immediately recalling the lyrics, as though they were pre-programmed into her very being, she shyly joined in with him. Although hesitant at first, the two of them quickly relaxed. They rattled off all manner of Christmas songs from 'White Christmas' and 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer' through to 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus'. The tunes were often accompanied by much guffawing, when they started to make up their own lyrics in the absence of knowing the correct ones, as well as adding in all manner of questionable vocal percussion. Consequently, it felt like no time at all before they were passing out of the thick canopy of trees and back into the white, snowy wilderness. Their singing naturally petered out as they trudged around the edge of a huge field which provided a much less intimate setting for vocal melodies, or lack thereof. Indeed, it would have been drowned out by the unmistakable noise of squawking pheasants and distant shotguns filling the air. Skirting beside a river, the looming silhouettes of Giant Hogweed could be seen rising out of the mist, before they turned a sharp corner to follow an alternative footpath which led them directly into a churchyard. Too tired now to be spooked by the lopsided gravestones rising creepily out of the mist, Emily simply kept her head down and focused on Sam's boots, which marched just ahead of her along the narrow path. It was all but dark by the time they wearily emerged into the main body of the village. Emily noticed that parts of the main road through the village had been cleared by helpful residents. However, as the temperatures began to plummet once more, sheet ice had formed on the exposed sections, making it more dangerous than ever. Therefore, instead of slipping and sliding her way along the icy road, Emily tucked in behind Sam and followed the channel that his footsteps had made through the deep snow. It was a route which required more strenuous effort but, on the positive side, was less likely to see her fall arse over tit, and make a complete fool of herself. As they fought their way onwards, Emily found her attention drawn to a huge, eighteenth century manor house, complete with lead-latticed windows and two smoking chimneys at either end of a long, bowing roof. Every light was blazing and a low pulse of music echoed from an open downstairs window. The place was a flurry of activity; the front door wide open, as caterers carrying various trays and boxes continuously made their way across the threshold. Whoever lived there clearly had no respect for the electricity or heating bills. 'Really well done. We've made it,' murmured Sam, sounding relieved. 'Here?' asked Emily, doing a double take. 'This is your Aunt's house?' 'Yeah,' confirmed Sam, gently dusting away the snow which had accumulated on her shoulders, before turning his attention towards his own. 'I was assuming she was a little old lady, living in a flat perhaps,' admitted Emily, her eyes wide with astonishment, as they made their way up the sweeping driveway. 'She'll love it, when she hears that,' laughed Sam, pulling off his gloves to reveal large, strong hands with clean, neatly-trimmed nails. Emily froze. In that instant, all of her attention was directed towards him, as those same hands began to unwind the scarf wrapped around his face. At last, she would see what he looked like. 'Well, please don't mention it then,' she stuttered. 'What's it worth?' he teased, leaving Emily all but speechless. Was he flirting with her? 'Darlings!' cried a woman who appeared on the doorstep. 'You poor things! How awful! Come inside!' Emily stared at her in disbelief; in her sixties, the woman that greeted them was tall, slender, elegant and incredibly attractive. She was adorned with silk scarves, expensive jewellery and an expression of uninhibited delight, as though she knew a very great secret that she couldn't wait to share. 'Emily, this is my Aunt Rosamunde,' introduced Sam proudly. 'Aunt, this is Emily Jones.' 'Rose, to my friends,' she explained, putting her arm around Emily and drawing her into the warmth of her home. 'Of which you already are.' Emily found herself unsure of where to look. Part of her wanted to soak up the interior of the amazing house into which she was now being led, but equally, she was desperate to find out what lay beneath Sam's exterior layers of clothing. 'Oh, Sammie, Darling? Before you get too comfortable, ' Rose added, glancing backwards. Excruciatingly, her words made him pause in his partial state of undress, just as he was about to remove his hat and scarf. 'Please could you grab another wheelbarrow full of logs from the woodshed and put them in the boot room? I'm sure we'll run out otherwise.' 'Only on the condition that you look after Emily, while I'm gone,' he stated, before looking directly at Emily. 'If that's okay with you, of course?' he asked. She nodded shyly in response, touched that he'd bothered to ask. 'Of course I'm going to look after her!' the older lady exclaimed. 'Then, of course, I will get you some more logs, Auntie Rosie,' he teased, walking once again into the cold evening and pulling his gloves back on. 'Oh! Get away with you, you cheeky boy!' exclaimed Rose with a chuckle. 'He always calls me that whenever I accidentally revert back to his childhood nickname. He knows full well it makes me sound like I'm a hundred years old,' she explained, hanging up Emily's dripping coat and leading her through to the kitchen. Not unexpectedly, the kitchen was incredible; a huge room, with painted white walls, infilled with thick black beams and bordered by a selection of Welsh dressers and overflowing granite work surfaces. Against one wall stood an enormous navy blue Aga throwing out a serious amount of much-welcome heat. Meanwhile, the centre of the room was taken up with a scrubbed pine table and chairs which looked as though they had served the needs of several generations before. 'Now, let's get you defrosted. How about a nice warming drink?' asked Rose. 'That would be wonderful,' admitted a lightly shivering Emily, subtly making her way towards the Aga, to share some of its precious warmth. 'A coffee would be lovely if you have one.' Almost unnoticed, one of the catering ladies who was silently floating around the room, flicked a switch to set the coffee machine into action and laid out two coffee cups, cream and sugar on the table. Meanwhile, Rose had marched to the back of the room and was scrabbling around in a cupboard. 'Or how about something a bit stronger?' she asked, waving a bottle of Whiskey above her head, whilst wiggling her eyebrows in Emily's direction. 'You could have an Irish coffee, best of both worlds?' she suggested with a smile. Giggling, Emily shook her head. 'Just a coffee would be great, for now,' she added, receiving a nod of approval from her host. 'Of course, you're right,' agreed Rose, making her way back to the table and pouring out their coffees from the jug which had seamlessly been delivered. Emily accepted the welcome beverage, wrapping her frozen hands around the cup and gratefully inhaling the steam. 'We should definitely pace ourselves. My dear, late husband would have said just the same,' she confessed, smiling fondly. 'I'm sorry,' said Emily sadly, as she received confirmation that Rose was indeed a widow. 'Oh, my dear,' she said warmly, laying her dainty hand over one of Emily's and squeezing gently. 'I knew love in my lifetime. True love, the kind that inspires people to write songs and write books and do all manner of other glorious things. So I absolutely forbid you to feel sorry for me.' 'How wonderful,' murmured Emily, sighing with deep contentment. 'Would you tell me about him?' And with great delight, Rose did just that. As she launched into the story of how they first met, Emily provided a completely rapt audience, wanting no more in that instant, than to hear their true love story. Sam returned a short while later, to find Emily and his aunt sitting cosily in the kitchen, holding hands, giggling outrageously and chatting ten to the dozen. Neither of them had noticed his arrival, so with great pleasure he simply stood and observed the two women, between which an indisputable spark of friendship had already been ignited. 'Darling!' Rose exclaimed with delight. With her concentration broken, Emily twisted around in her seat to be confronted by a sight that she knew was already being meticulously downloaded into her memory, to remain imprinted there for the rest of time. Quite simply, the most gorgeous man she had ever set eyes on, was leaning against the oak-framed doorway watching them. Utterly relaxed, with his arms folded, it was his wide smile, piercing dark eyes and perfectly messed up dark hair that immediately caught her attention. Slowly, her eyes dared to drop down and devour the rest of him. She processed every tiny detail, from his lithe body and strong forearms, right down to the thick navy blue socks he wore, stretched over his large feet. Unable to drag her eyes away, Emily's gaze tracked his progress as he loped across the room, to grab another mug from the cupboard. Although she caught only a fleeting glimpse, unbelievably his back view seemed comparable to the front. Gulping in disbelief, she looked across at Rose for support. Her host seemed unusually quiet; half smiling, half grimacing, apparently incapable of speech. Glancing down at the table, a horrified Emily realised she was tightly clenching Rose's hand. Too good-mannered to complain, relief flooded across the older lady's face when the firm grip was eventually relinquished. 'Sorry,' whispered Emily. Apologising had the added bonus of making her aware that, until that point, her mouth had been hanging open in utter shock. Swiftly rectifying her vacant look, Emily clamped her mouth tightly shut and tried to breathe as calmly as possible through her nose. There wasn't anything she could do about her flushed face, but with any luck, that could be blamed on the extremes of temperature she'd been subjected to over the past few hours. By this time, the man had joined them at the table and was pouring a steaming coffee into his own mug. Emily subconsciously licked her lips as his mouth wrapped around the cup and swallowed with contentment. The low groan he made, as that initial sip slid down his throat, caused a twinge to flutter across her tingling, already swollen pussy. This man was beyond gorgeous. Emily's mind was whirring, unable to believe he might actually be Sam. Surely this couldn't be the man she'd spent the last two hours joking and chatting with, whilst methodically annihilating Nat King Cole's back catalogue, could it? She would never have mildly flirted and nonchalantly shared a chocolate bar in the snow with a man who looked like, well, THAT. She shuffled slightly in her seat as a surge of blood pumped towards her abdomen. And then his familiar tone filled the room and her question remained unanswered no longer. God help her, it was definitely him. 'It looks like you two are destined to be great friends,' he observed wryly. Neither of the two women responded; Emily because she was speechless, Rose because she was delightedly watching Emily's reaction to the arrival of her favourite nephew. 'So, what's the big joke?' pressed Sam. 'You were laughing hysterically a moment ago and now there's nothing but silence. What's up?' Recognising the signs of Emily's distress, Rose stepped in to help. She had personally only observed a reaction like this once before in her life, decades earlier. It was etched on her heart because it was the precious night that she had met and fallen in love with her beloved husband. 'I was just sharing some stories about dear Arthur,' explained Rose swiftly, but she had already lost her audience. 'You're trembling,' observed Sam, looking kindly at Emily. 'Come on,' he said, taking another swig of his beverage before standing up. 'I'll show you to your room. Then you can have a nice long bath and warm up again.' With both of them gazing at her, as though waiting for her to take some form of action, Emily felt she had little choice but to follow Sam out of the kitchen. She wasn't entirely convinced the cold was responsible for making her tremble, but that wasn't something Sam needed to know. Instead, she allowed him to lead her through the house. Together, they ascended the grand staircase before turning off a long corridor. 'This is you,' he explained, making his way into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed. Her bag had already been delivered and placed in a wing-backed armchair. 'And the en suite is just through there,' he added, pointing towards an adjoining bathroom. 'Wow, it's amazing,' she croaked, overwhelmed by such a beautiful room. 'Thank you so much. Are there enough bathrooms for you to take a bath too?' 'Why do you ask?' he teased. 'Would you rather share?' 'No!' she gasped quickly. 'Is everything okay, Emily?' he asked with concern. 'You seem different compared to earlier,  more tense?' 'I'm fine. Thanks,' she said a little flustered. Apart from the fact she'd surmised he had children and so probably a wife, it really wouldn't do to let him know the overwhelming effect he was having on her body. 'Okay, if you're sure,' he replied, clearly not convinced. 'Help yourself to whatever you need and I'll see you downstairs when you're ready. And don't rush, I know from experience that sometimes, only a long, luxurious bath will do when you're chilled to the bone. There's tons of hot water,  always is, so don't hold back. My aunt doesn't know the meaning of the word economising!' He was just closing the door behind him when a final thought occurred. 'Oh, and don't forget to call your folks,' he added, walking back into the room and handing his mobile phone to her. 'The four-digit keycode to unlock the screen is my age,' he grinned. 'See if you can guess it.' 'Seriously?' she protested, temporarily knocked-out of her shyness. 'Yep,' he laughed. 'I'll give you a clue. The first two numbers are zero, zero. Don't forget to tell your parents you're staying with a perfectly respectable lady. Probably best not to mention her far from respectable nephew.' With a wink that made Emily's cheeks and neck flush, their eyes met lingeringly before Sam closed the door firmly behind himself. With the huge bath gradually filling, Emily took Sam's phone with a significant level of apprehension and tried to guess his keycode. Starting with an estimate of thirty-five, which was her own age, Emily gradually added one year until the phone unlocked at zero zero three nine. With a level of willpower she was unaware she possessed, Emily entered her parents' home phone number, without once scrolling through his photographs, previous texts, or any other personal information Sam had willingly entrusted her with. Her parents' relief when they realised their daughter was safe was palpable. Indeed, it only served to emphasise how right Emily had been not to contact them, before she could give them good news. Providing as much information as she could, Emily described the events of the day and her current location and plans. With a promise to try her best to see them tomorrow, although she had no idea how, she rang off and sank into the welcoming, deep, steamy bubble bath with a satisfied groan. Following several top ups of hot water, during which time she could hear more and more partygoers gathering downstairs, Emily eventually stepped out from the bath, her cold, aching body now warm, supple and relaxed. The sounds of excited chatter, clinking glasses and increasingly raucous laughter echoed up through the floorboards below. Wrapped in a thick, soft bath sheet, she wandered back into the opulent bedroom and emptied her rucksack. Her clothing choices were very limited; she was going to have to wear what she'd purchased for Christmas day. Having dressed in the dark-green, velvet dress, coupled with her favourite lace underwear, Emily felt classy, elegant and unsurprisingly sexy. It was either that or jeans and, glancing out of the window to see what some of the late arrivals were wearing, it didn't look like a jeans kind of event. Once she was satisfied with her physical appearance, Emily turned her attention to her questionable emotional state. It was time to give herself a thoroughly stern talking to. In all probability, Sam wasn't single. Besides which, he was utterly, gloriously, perfectly gorgeous. Only in her very wildest dreams would she end up with a man like that. Furthermore, it was clear he had enjoyed spending time with her on their walk, when she'd been behaving like her normal self. So acting like some love sick teenager, incapable of rational conversation, wasn't going to be helpful on any level. It would be much more sensible to just relax and enjoy their limited time together as friends. And with that mantra firmly lodged in her mind, Emily took a deep breath, retrieved his phone from her bed and drifted downstairs. The party was a roaring success. Even though the bad weather had prevented many from attending, the majority of the village had still turned out to help make it a night to remember. Emily found herself chatting non-stop, not just to Rose and Sam whom she naturally gravitated towards, but to an array of other guests, many of which were delightful company. Towards the end of the evening, Sam sidled up behind her, taking her quite by surprise. 'Dance with me?' he murmured into her ear. Looking around to see his smiling face, she felt her stomach drop with lust. Up close and personal, dressed in black tie, he truly was faint-making. 'Sure,' Emily replied, in the calmest tone she could muster. She watched in astonishment as he picked up her hand, stroked her sensitive palm gently with his thumb and led her towards the dance floor at the far end of the house. The beat was slow, sultry and purposeful as 'Please come home for Christmas' oozed out of the speakers. Gently, Sam pulled Emily's body against his own. In a heightened state of bliss, Emily lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Revolving slowly around the room, they were aware of no one but each other. With her hands placed properly around his back, she could feel his taut muscles moving beneath her fingertips and the easy sway of his hips against hers. It was, quite simply, overwhelming. Disappointment flooded her as the song naturally came to an end. When it was replaced by 'All I want for Christmas is you,' Sam readjusted his hold on her and continued to dance, causing Emily's heart to soar once more. With a wide smile, Emily was unable to prevent herself from gazing up at him, her admiration blatantly discernible. 'Is everything okay?' he asked gently. 'Everything's just perfect,' she replied, beaming. Chuckling slightly, he shook his head before laying his cheek against her forehead. 'You look beautiful tonight,' he murmured matter-of-factly into her hair, as they continued to revolve around the floor. Those words had a devastating effect on Emily's pulse, which shot through the roof as a tingle of pleasure flooded every cell in her body. They danced all the way through the tracks that followed, until the final song of the evening began to play. When the chords of 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' boomed out of the speakers and the entire party seemed to cram into a single room, Emily and Sam were forced to step apart. The time for slow dancing had concluded. It was a little after midnight when all of the guests had finally departed and the elderly house fell still once more. 'That was the best party ever!' Emily confided to Rose as she collapsed beside her on the sofa, in front of the gently crackling fire. 'Thank you so much for letting me stay.' 'I'm so pleased you enjoyed yourself, my dear. I saw you dancing with Sam,' she added mischievously, before taking a final sip from her mug of hot chocolate. 'Yes,' admitted a blushing Emily. 'We danced.' 'He's a good boy, that one,' sighed Rose as she eased herself up to standing. 'Faithful, trustworthy and very, very decent. And now I absolutely must go to sleep, so I'll say good night, dear girl.' 'Good night,' echoed Emily, watching the older lady leave the room. But listening to the muffled hum of conversation between Rose and her nephew in the hallway, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. Had Rose just warned her off Sam? Had she been trying to help her understand that he would not betray the trust of his partner; of his children? Emily gazed into the middle distance. Out of the window, thick snowflakes continued to fall silently from the dark sky. Lost in her own thoughts, she wasn't aware of Sam's presence, until he dropped down onto the sofa beside her. Luxuriously, he rolled his head around on his shoulders and stretched. 'Hey,' he growled. 'Hey,' she replied, glancing across at him. The look in his dark eyes, which danced and twinkled back at her in the firelight, forced her to inhale swiftly. 'Bed time?' he asked. Emily nodded in agreement, with no appreciation as to whether he was making a statement or an offer. As they made their way out of the room and up the sweeping staircase, curiosity prevailed. 'Won't your children miss you tonight?' Emily asked. 'My children?' he clarified, turning off lamps as they went. 'Yes, in the photo on your phone.' 'Ah, Sally and William? Probably not,' he explained. 'But I still have no doubt they'll be as excited as ever, by my arrival tomorrow. I've always spoilt my niece and nephew with an excessive amount of Christmas presents; they'll be pleased to discover that this year will be no exception.' 'Niece and nephew? Oh, right,' croaked Emily. They had come to a halt outside her bedroom door and she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Her eyes rose slowly upwards, on the off chance that a thoughtfully placed piece of mistletoe might make things easier. To her disappointment, there was only a dusty light fitting and a spider's web. 'Well, good night Emily,' said Sam softly, dipping his head to her cheek and allowing his lips to brush across her soft skin. He stayed there for a beat longer than necessary before straightening up. Smiling down at her, he nodded his head decisively. 'Happy Christmas.' 'Happy Christmas,' she murmured to his departing back, unexpectedly overwhelmed by an acute sense of loss. On the other side of the corridor, he opened his own bedroom door, paused and turned back to face her. For a long moment, they gazed at each other, although their friendly smiles had all but disappeared. Somehow, over the course of the evening, their relationship had transformed into something more intimate, perilous and demanding of attention. Emily found herself unable to do anything other than stare back, utterly spellbound. Eventually, he sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, before retiring into the bedroom and closing the door behind himself. To be continued in Part 3 By FenellaAshworth for Literotica.

The Manor In The WoodsBy FenellaAshworth. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.The landscape was almost entirely white now and dusk was starting to descend with surprising haste. As they walked, Emily observed how their route was bordered by thick, low hedges, laden with frosted, blood-red hawthorn berries and holly leaves; one of the few plants that remained green, within a mass of death and decay which mid-winter always conveyed.Continuing along the path, they soon found themselves submerged in a dark, dense coniferous forest. It was deathly quiet here, the evergreen trees packed so tightly that only the lightest sprinkling of dusty snow had so far been able to penetrate the shadowy depths. And yet the temperature seemed to have dropped even further. Emily felt a momentary waver in the high levels of confidence she'd shown, by accompanying Sam. She quietly questioned whether her normally good instincts were continuing to serve her well.‘Still cold?' Sam asked, picking up a little on her apprehension. Unable to voice any words, she simply nodded in response. ‘I always find singing warms me up. If you'll join me?' he requested.‘Sure,' she croaked, surprised at his suggestion.Causing a sudden jolt of pleasure to travel up her spine, Sam began to sing in a soft, clear voice, filling Emily's imagination with the aroma of chestnuts roasting over a gently crackling, open fire. How was it possible that this man was making her feel an excitement for Christmas that she had barely felt since childhood? And certainly not in the past few years.Immediately recalling the lyrics, as though they were pre-programmed into her very being, she shyly joined in with him.Although hesitant at first, the two of them quickly relaxed. They rattled off all manner of Christmas songs from 'White Christmas' and 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer' through to 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus'. The tunes were often accompanied by much guffawing, when they started to make up their own lyrics in the absence of knowing the correct ones, as well as adding in all manner of questionable vocal percussion. Consequently, it felt like no time at all before they were passing out of the thick canopy of trees and back into the white, snowy wilderness.Their singing naturally petered out as they trudged around the edge of a huge field which provided a much less intimate setting for vocal melodies, or lack thereof. Indeed, it would have been drowned out by the unmistakable noise of squawking pheasants and distant shotguns filling the air. Skirting beside a river, the looming silhouettes of Giant Hogweed could be seen rising out of the mist, before they turned a sharp corner to follow an alternative footpath which led them directly into a churchyard. Too tired now to be spooked by the lopsided gravestones rising creepily out of the mist, Emily simply kept her head down and focused on Sam's boots, which marched just ahead of her along the narrow path. It was all but dark by the time they wearily emerged into the main body of the village.Emily noticed that parts of the main road through the village had been cleared by helpful residents. However, as the temperatures began to plummet once more, sheet ice had formed on the exposed sections, making it more dangerous than ever. Therefore, instead of slipping and sliding her way along the icy road, Emily tucked in behind Sam and followed the channel that his footsteps had made through the deep snow. It was a route which required more strenuous effort but, on the positive side, was less likely to see her fall arse over tit, and make a complete fool of herself.As they fought their way onwards, Emily found her attention drawn to a huge, eighteenth century manor house, complete with lead-latticed windows and two smoking chimneys at either end of a long, bowing roof. Every light was blazing and a low pulse of music echoed from an open downstairs window. The place was a flurry of activity; the front door wide open, as caterers carrying various trays and boxes continuously made their way across the threshold. Whoever lived there clearly had no respect for the electricity or heating bills.'Really well done. We've made it,' murmured Sam, sounding relieved.'Here?' asked Emily, doing a double take. 'This is your Aunt's house?''Yeah,' confirmed Sam, gently dusting away the snow which had accumulated on her shoulders, before turning his attention towards his own.'I was assuming she was a little old lady, living in a flat perhaps,' admitted Emily, her eyes wide with astonishment, as they made their way up the sweeping driveway.'She'll love it, when she hears that,' laughed Sam, pulling off his gloves to reveal large, strong hands with clean, neatly-trimmed nails. Emily froze. In that instant, all of her attention was directed towards him, as those same hands began to unwind the scarf wrapped around his face. At last, she would see what he looked like.'Well, please don't mention it then,' she stuttered.'What's it worth?' he teased, leaving Emily all but speechless. Was he flirting with her?'Darlings!' cried a woman who appeared on the doorstep. 'You poor things! How awful! Come inside!' Emily stared at her in disbelief; in her sixties, the woman that greeted them was tall, slender, elegant and incredibly attractive. She was adorned with silk scarves, expensive jewellery and an expression of uninhibited delight, as though she knew a very great secret that she couldn't wait to share.'Emily, this is my Aunt Rosamunde,' introduced Sam proudly. 'Aunt, this is Emily Jones.''Rose, to my friends,' she explained, putting her arm around Emily and drawing her into the warmth of her home. 'Of which you already are.' Emily found herself unsure of where to look. Part of her wanted to soak up the interior of the amazing house into which she was now being led, but equally, she was desperate to find out what lay beneath Sam's exterior layers of clothing.'Oh, Sammie, Darling? Before you get too comfortable, ' Rose added, glancing backwards. Excruciatingly, her words made him pause in his partial state of undress, just as he was about to remove his hat and scarf. 'Please could you grab another wheelbarrow full of logs from the woodshed and put them in the boot room? I'm sure we'll run out otherwise.''Only on the condition that you look after Emily, while I'm gone,' he stated, before looking directly at Emily. 'If that's okay with you, of course?' he asked. She nodded shyly in response, touched that he'd bothered to ask.'Of course I'm going to look after her!' the older lady exclaimed.'Then, of course, I will get you some more logs, Auntie Rosie,' he teased, walking once again into the cold evening and pulling his gloves back on.'Oh! Get away with you, you cheeky boy!' exclaimed Rose with a chuckle. 'He always calls me that whenever I accidentally revert back to his childhood nickname. He knows full well it makes me sound like I'm a hundred years old,' she explained, hanging up Emily's dripping coat and leading her through to the kitchen. Not unexpectedly, the kitchen was incredible; a huge room, with painted white walls, infilled with thick black beams and bordered by a selection of Welsh dressers and overflowing granite work surfaces. Against one wall stood an enormous navy blue Aga throwing out a serious amount of much-welcome heat. Meanwhile, the centre of the room was taken up with a scrubbed pine table and chairs which looked as though they had served the needs of several generations before.'Now, let's get you defrosted. How about a nice warming drink?' asked Rose.'That would be wonderful,' admitted a lightly shivering Emily, subtly making her way towards the Aga, to share some of its precious warmth. 'A coffee would be lovely if you have one.' Almost unnoticed, one of the catering ladies who was silently floating around the room, flicked a switch to set the coffee machine into action and laid out two coffee cups, cream and sugar on the table. Meanwhile, Rose had marched to the back of the room and was scrabbling around in a cupboard.'Or how about something a bit stronger?' she asked, waving a bottle of Whiskey above her head, whilst wiggling her eyebrows in Emily's direction. 'You could have an Irish coffee, best of both worlds?' she suggested with a smile. Giggling, Emily shook her head.'Just a coffee would be great, for now,' she added, receiving a nod of approval from her host.'Of course, you're right,' agreed Rose, making her way back to the table and pouring out their coffees from the jug which had seamlessly been delivered. Emily accepted the welcome beverage, wrapping her frozen hands around the cup and gratefully inhaling the steam. 'We should definitely pace ourselves. My dear, late husband would have said just the same,' she confessed, smiling fondly.'I'm sorry,' said Emily sadly, as she received confirmation that Rose was indeed a widow.'Oh, my dear,' she said warmly, laying her dainty hand over one of Emily's and squeezing gently. 'I knew love in my lifetime. True love, the kind that inspires people to write songs and write books and do all manner of other glorious things. So I absolutely forbid you to feel sorry for me.''How wonderful,' murmured Emily, sighing with deep contentment. 'Would you tell me about him?' And with great delight, Rose did just that. As she launched into the story of how they first met, Emily provided a completely rapt audience, wanting no more in that instant, than to hear their true love story.Sam returned a short while later, to find Emily and his aunt sitting cosily in the kitchen, holding hands, giggling outrageously and chatting ten to the dozen. Neither of them had noticed his arrival, so with great pleasure he simply stood and observed the two women, between which an indisputable spark of friendship had already been ignited.'Darling!' Rose exclaimed with delight. With her concentration broken, Emily twisted around in her seat to be confronted by a sight that she knew was already being meticulously downloaded into her memory, to remain imprinted there for the rest of time. Quite simply, the most gorgeous man she had ever set eyes on, was leaning against the oak-framed doorway watching them. Utterly relaxed, with his arms folded, it was his wide smile, piercing dark eyes and perfectly messed up dark hair that immediately caught her attention. Slowly, her eyes dared to drop down and devour the rest of him. She processed every tiny detail, from his lithe body and strong forearms, right down to the thick navy blue socks he wore, stretched over his large feet.Unable to drag her eyes away, Emily's gaze tracked his progress as he loped across the room, to grab another mug from the cupboard. Although she caught only a fleeting glimpse, unbelievably his back view seemed comparable to the front. Gulping in disbelief, she looked across at Rose for support. Her host seemed unusually quiet; half smiling, half grimacing, apparently incapable of speech. Glancing down at the table, a horrified Emily realised she was tightly clenching Rose's hand. Too good-mannered to complain, relief flooded across the older lady's face when the firm grip was eventually relinquished.'Sorry,' whispered Emily. Apologising had the added bonus of making her aware that, until that point, her mouth had been hanging open in utter shock. Swiftly rectifying her vacant look, Emily clamped her mouth tightly shut and tried to breathe as calmly as possible through her nose. There wasn't anything she could do about her flushed face, but with any luck, that could be blamed on the extremes of temperature she'd been subjected to over the past few hours.By this time, the man had joined them at the table and was pouring a steaming coffee into his own mug. Emily subconsciously licked her lips as his mouth wrapped around the cup and swallowed with contentment. The low groan he made, as that initial sip slid down his throat, caused a twinge to flutter across her tingling, already swollen pussy. This man was beyond gorgeous.Emily's mind was whirring, unable to believe he might actually be Sam. Surely this couldn't be the man she'd spent the last two hours joking and chatting with, whilst methodically annihilating Nat King Cole's back catalogue, could it? She would never have mildly flirted and nonchalantly shared a chocolate bar in the snow with a man who looked like, well, THAT. She shuffled slightly in her seat as a surge of blood pumped towards her abdomen. And then his familiar tone filled the room and her question remained unanswered no longer. God help her, it was definitely him.'It looks like you two are destined to be great friends,' he observed wryly. Neither of the two women responded; Emily because she was speechless, Rose because she was delightedly watching Emily's reaction to the arrival of her favourite nephew. 'So, what's the big joke?' pressed Sam. 'You were laughing hysterically a moment ago and now there's nothing but silence. What's up?'Recognising the signs of Emily's distress, Rose stepped in to help. She had personally only observed a reaction like this once before in her life, decades earlier. It was etched on her heart because it was the precious night that she had met and fallen in love with her beloved husband.'I was just sharing some stories about dear Arthur,' explained Rose swiftly, but she had already lost her audience.'You're trembling,' observed Sam, looking kindly at Emily. 'Come on,' he said, taking another swig of his beverage before standing up. 'I'll show you to your room. Then you can have a nice long bath and warm up again.'With both of them gazing at her, as though waiting for her to take some form of action, Emily felt she had little choice but to follow Sam out of the kitchen. She wasn't entirely convinced the cold was responsible for making her tremble, but that wasn't something Sam needed to know. Instead, she allowed him to lead her through the house. Together, they ascended the grand staircase before turning off a long corridor.'This is you,' he explained, making his way into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed. Her bag had already been delivered and placed in a wing-backed armchair. 'And the en suite is just through there,' he added, pointing towards an adjoining bathroom.'Wow, it's amazing,' she croaked, overwhelmed by such a beautiful room. 'Thank you so much. Are there enough bathrooms for you to take a bath too?''Why do you ask?' he teased. 'Would you rather share?''No!' she gasped quickly.'Is everything okay, Emily?' he asked with concern. 'You seem different compared to earlier,  more tense?''I'm fine. Thanks,' she said a little flustered. Apart from the fact she'd surmised he had children and so probably a wife, it really wouldn't do to let him know the overwhelming effect he was having on her body.'Okay, if you're sure,' he replied, clearly not convinced. 'Help yourself to whatever you need and I'll see you downstairs when you're ready. And don't rush, I know from experience that sometimes, only a long, luxurious bath will do when you're chilled to the bone. There's tons of hot water,  always is, so don't hold back. My aunt doesn't know the meaning of the word economising!' He was just closing the door behind him when a final thought occurred.'Oh, and don't forget to call your folks,' he added, walking back into the room and handing his mobile phone to her. 'The four-digit keycode to unlock the screen is my age,' he grinned. 'See if you can guess it.''Seriously?' she protested, temporarily knocked-out of her shyness.'Yep,' he laughed. 'I'll give you a clue. The first two numbers are zero, zero. Don't forget to tell your parents you're staying with a perfectly respectable lady. Probably best not to mention her far from respectable nephew.' With a wink that made Emily's cheeks and neck flush, their eyes met lingeringly before Sam closed the door firmly behind himself.With the huge bath gradually filling, Emily took Sam's phone with a significant level of apprehension and tried to guess his keycode. Starting with an estimate of thirty-five, which was her own age, Emily gradually added one year until the phone unlocked at zero zero three nine. With a level of willpower she was unaware she possessed, Emily entered her parents' home phone number, without once scrolling through his photographs, previous texts, or any other personal information Sam had willingly entrusted her with.Her parents' relief when they realised their daughter was safe was palpable. Indeed, it only served to emphasise how right Emily had been not to contact them, before she could give them good news. Providing as much information as she could, Emily described the events of the day and her current location and plans. With a promise to try her best to see them tomorrow, although she had no idea how, she rang off and sank into the welcoming, deep, steamy bubble bath with a satisfied groan.Following several top ups of hot water, during which time she could hear more and more partygoers gathering downstairs, Emily eventually stepped out from the bath, her cold, aching body now warm, supple and relaxed. The sounds of excited chatter, clinking glasses and increasingly raucous laughter echoed up through the floorboards below. Wrapped in a thick, soft bath sheet, she wandered back into the opulent bedroom and emptied her rucksack. Her clothing choices were very limited; she was going to have to wear what she'd purchased for Christmas day. Having dressed in the dark-green, velvet dress, coupled with her favourite lace underwear, Emily felt classy, elegant and unsurprisingly sexy. It was either that or jeans and, glancing out of the window to see what some of the late arrivals were wearing, it didn't look like a jeans kind of event.Once she was satisfied with her physical appearance, Emily turned her attention to her questionable emotional state. It was time to give herself a thoroughly stern talking to. In all probability, Sam wasn't single. Besides which, he was utterly, gloriously, perfectly gorgeous. Only in her very wildest dreams would she end up with a man like that. Furthermore, it was clear he had enjoyed spending time with her on their walk, when she'd been behaving like her normal self. So acting like some love sick teenager, incapable of rational conversation, wasn't going to be helpful on any level. It would be much more sensible to just relax and enjoy their limited time together as friends. And with that mantra firmly lodged in her mind, Emily took a deep breath, retrieved his phone from her bed and drifted downstairs.The party was a roaring success. Even though the bad weather had prevented many from attending, the majority of the village had still turned out to help make it a night to remember. Emily found herself chatting non-stop, not just to Rose and Sam whom she naturally gravitated towards, but to an array of other guests, many of which were delightful company. Towards the end of the evening, Sam sidled up behind her, taking her quite by surprise.'Dance with me?' he murmured into her ear. Looking around to see his smiling face, she felt her stomach drop with lust. Up close and personal, dressed in black tie, he truly was faint-making.'Sure,' Emily replied, in the calmest tone she could muster. She watched in astonishment as he picked up her hand, stroked her sensitive palm gently with his thumb and led her towards the dance floor at the far end of the house. The beat was slow, sultry and purposeful as 'Please come home for Christmas' oozed out of the speakers. Gently, Sam pulled Emily's body against his own. In a heightened state of bliss, Emily lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Revolving slowly around the room, they were aware of no one but each other. With her hands placed properly around his back, she could feel his taut muscles moving beneath her fingertips and the easy sway of his hips against hers. It was, quite simply, overwhelming.Disappointment flooded her as the song naturally came to an end. When it was replaced by 'All I want for Christmas is you,' Sam readjusted his hold on her and continued to dance, causing Emily's heart to soar once more. With a wide smile, Emily was unable to prevent herself from gazing up at him, her admiration blatantly discernible.'Is everything okay?' he asked gently.'Everything's just perfect,' she replied, beaming. Chuckling slightly, he shook his head before laying his cheek against her forehead.'You look beautiful tonight,' he murmured matter-of-factly into her hair, as they continued to revolve around the floor. Those words had a devastating effect on Emily's pulse, which shot through the roof as a tingle of pleasure flooded every cell in her body. They danced all the way through the tracks that followed, until the final song of the evening began to play. When the chords of 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' boomed out of the speakers and the entire party seemed to cram into a single room, Emily and Sam were forced to step apart. The time for slow dancing had concluded.It was a little after midnight when all of the guests had finally departed and the elderly house fell still once more.'That was the best party ever!' Emily confided to Rose as she collapsed beside her on the sofa, in front of the gently crackling fire. 'Thank you so much for letting me stay.''I'm so pleased you enjoyed yourself, my dear. I saw you dancing with Sam,' she added mischievously, before taking a final sip from her mug of hot chocolate.'Yes,' admitted a blushing Emily. 'We danced.''He's a good boy, that one,' sighed Rose as she eased herself up to standing. 'Faithful, trustworthy and very, very decent. And now I absolutely must go to sleep, so I'll say good night, dear girl.''Good night,' echoed Emily, watching the older lady leave the room. But listening to the muffled hum of conversation between Rose and her nephew in the hallway, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. Had Rose just warned her off Sam? Had she been trying to help her understand that he would not betray the trust of his partner; of his children?Emily gazed into the middle distance. Out of the window, thick snowflakes continued to fall silently from the dark sky. Lost in her own thoughts, she wasn't aware of Sam's presence, until he dropped down onto the sofa beside her. Luxuriously, he rolled his head around on his shoulders and stretched.'Hey,' he growled.'Hey,' she replied, glancing across at him. The look in his dark eyes, which danced and twinkled back at her in the firelight, forced her to inhale swiftly.'Bed time?' he asked. Emily nodded in agreement, with no appreciation as to whether he was making a statement or an offer. As they made their way out of the room and up the sweeping staircase, curiosity prevailed.'Won't your children miss you tonight?' Emily asked.'My children?' he clarified, turning off lamps as they went.'Yes, in the photo on your phone.''Ah, Sally and William? Probably not,' he explained. 'But I still have no doubt they'll be as excited as ever, by my arrival tomorrow. I've always spoilt my niece and nephew with an excessive amount of Christmas presents; they'll be pleased to discover that this year will be no exception.''Niece and nephew? Oh, right,' croaked Emily. They had come to a halt outside her bedroom door and she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Her eyes rose slowly upwards, on the off chance that a thoughtfully placed piece of mistletoe might make things easier. To her disappointment, there was only a dusty light fitting and a spider's web.'Well, good night Emily,' said Sam softly, dipping his head to her cheek and allowing his lips to brush across her soft skin. He stayed there for a beat longer than necessary before straightening up. Smiling down at her, he nodded his head decisively. 'Happy Christmas.''Happy Christmas,' she murmured to his departing back, unexpectedly overwhelmed by an acute sense of loss. On the other side of the corridor, he opened his own bedroom door, paused and turned back to face her. For a long moment, they gazed at each other, although their friendly smiles had all but disappeared. Somehow, over the course of the evening, their relationship had transformed into something more intimate, perilous and demanding of attention. Emily found herself unable to do anything other than stare back, utterly spellbound. Eventually, he sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, before retiring into the bedroom and closing the door behind himself.To be continued in Part 3By FenellaAshworth for Literotica.

The culture goes up, and the culture goes down, and the BFG Podcast covers it all. On the downward slope this week is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which has suffered its first genuine bust with 'The Marvels.' The world is not entirely sure how to handle this phenomenon but host Neal Pollack and guest Scott Gold tackle it. They both agree that Iman Vellani is quite delightful as Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel, but the rest of the cast seems to be phoning it in. The cringe-inducing musical sequence in the middle does the movie no favors, though the end scene and the mid-credits sequence do point toward a better, more crowd-friendly MCU. This movie is probably more of a placeholder than a death knell.Neither Neal nor Stephen Garrett can get over a revelation that the main character in Alexander Payne's 'The Holdovers' "smells like fish." It's the most disgusting character detail in a movie in a long time. Both critics like the perforamances of Da'Vine Joy Randolph and Dominic Sessa, but they found Paul Giamatti very grating, and the "realistic" 1970 setting of the movie too cute by half. A dissent from our two BFG professional critics!On the other hand, both Neal and Omar Gallaga love Nate Bargatze and Taylor Tomlinson, who in recent weeks have risen to the top of the comedy world. Skirting the verge of "family-friendly," both these comics are white and are from Red-tinged political zones, but both deliver a brand of humor that people across the political spectrum can enjoy. Maybe this is the actual way forward for popular entertainment. We could do much worse and we couldn't do much better.Enjoy the show!

Message: Move By Faith | No Skirting Around (Part 3) Scriptures: Numbers 14:6-9, Joshua 1:1-5 (NKJV) Speaker: Bishop Stephen A. Davis Date: Sunday, November 12, 2023 - STAY CONNECTED - https://StephenADavis.org Bishop Stephen A. Davis YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@StephenDavisOfficial Bishop Stephen A. Davis Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bishopstephendavis/ Bishop Stephen A. Davis Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bishopstephenadavis/ Refresh Family Church Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/RefreshFamilyChurch/ Refresh Family Church Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/refreshfamilychurch Visit Our Website: https://refreshfamily.church/

Message: Move By Faith | No Skirting Around Scriptures: Deuteronomy 2:1-7 (NKJV) Speaker: Bishop Stephen A. Davis Date: Sunday, November 5, 2023 - STAY CONNECTED - https://StephenADavis.org Bishop Stephen A. Davis YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@StephenDavisOfficial Bishop Stephen A. Davis Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bishopstephendavis/ Bishop Stephen A. Davis Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bishopstephenadavis/ Refresh Family Church Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/RefreshFamilyChurch/ Refresh Family Church Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/refreshfamilychurch Visit Our Website: https://refreshfamily.church/

Skirting the fringes of blues, country and outlaw folk, Clare and Yves speak to Luke Watt and Nigel Wearne of Above the Bit.

In this episode of "Dads with Daughters," host Christopher Lewis welcomes guest Alexandra Wyman to discuss the challenging topic of suicide and how to navigate the aftermath. The episode focuses on providing support and resources for individuals dealing with the loss of a loved one to suicide. Christopher introduces Alexandra Wyman, an advocate and public speaker who experienced the loss of her husband to suicide in August 2020. She shares her journey and the inspiration behind her book, "The Suicide Club: What to Do When Someone You Love Chooses Death." Alexandra recounts her life before her husband's suicide, emphasizing societal expectations of a successful life and family. She details her personal journey of meeting her husband, getting married, and having a child, which led her to believe she had achieved a successful life. However, four days before their second wedding anniversary, her husband took his life, leaving her in shock and disbelief. Alexandra discusses her initial struggles, including the lack of consistent support and the need to make immediate decisions. She explains that during the early stages of her grief, she began documenting her experiences, emotional states, and any helpful strategies she discovered. The conversation transitions to addressing the guilt and self-blame that survivors of suicide often experience. Alexandra emphasizes that it's challenging to predict or prevent suicide, emphasizing the importance of spreading love and checking in on loved ones who may be struggling emotionally. Christopher inquires about how to support individuals affected by suicide from an outsider's perspective. Alexandra recommends being present for them and offering specific help rather than asking them what they need. She also highlights the significance of ongoing support beyond the initial shock period when most people tend to withdraw. They discuss the complexities of explaining suicide to children and how to approach age-appropriate conversations about the topic. Alexandra emphasizes the importance of honesty and using concrete language when discussing suicide with children. Alexandra mentions various tools and coping strategies she has relied on during her grief journey. These include therapy, journaling, meditation, exercise, reaching out to friends, and seeking information from blogs and books on death and grief. The episode concludes with Alexandra's message of hope and resilience, encouraging those who have experienced suicide loss to keep moving forward and find meaning and purpose in life. She underscores the importance of anchoring to something meaningful as a source of strength. Christopher mentions the significance of the "988" suicide and crisis lifeline, urging anyone in need to reach out for help. Alexandra provides her website, Forwardtojoy.com, as a valuable resource for additional support, coaching, and information about her book, "The Suicide Club." The episode offers valuable insights, resources, and guidance for individuals dealing with suicide loss, as well as those seeking to support loved ones through this difficult journey.   TRANSCRIPT Christopher Lewis [00:00:06]: Welcome to dads with daughters. In this show, we spotlight Dads resources and more to help you be the best dad you can be. Hey, everyone, this is Chris, and welcome to Dads with Daughters, where we bring you guests to help you be active participants in your daughter's lives, raising them to be strong, independent women. As you know, every week we are chatting together about how you can raise amazing daughters in your lives to help them be strong, independent women. And every week I love being able to chat with you about the journey that you're on and help you to learn from others. This week we've got a really great guest with us and I'm so excited that she was willing to join us today. We're going to be talking about a topic that is a little bit tougher. We're going to be talking about suicide and coming out on the other side of suicide. Christopher Lewis [00:01:02]: But it's important. It's an important topic and it's hopefully a topic that you may not have to deal with in your life, but it's important to understand what to do in these situations. So our guest today is Alexandra Wyman, and she is an advocate and public speaker for resources in the aftermath of suicide. After she lost her husband to suicide in August of 2020, she found a need to change the language around suicide and decided to write about it. She wrote a memoir called The Suicide Club. What to Do When Someone You love Chooses death. And you can find it on Amazon. I'm going to put a link in the notes today for you to be able to find that. Christopher Lewis [00:01:46]: She's spoken at many conferences about this and really worked to try to help others to understand this. So I'm really excited to be able to talk to her today, to be able to learn from her and have you learn from her and the journey that she's been on. Alexandra, thanks so much for being here today. Alexandra Wyman [00:02:04]: Oh, Chris, thank you so much for having me. It's such a pleasure to be able to speak with you today. Christopher Lewis [00:02:09]: It is my pleasure having you here today. And I guess let's start at the beginning because this as I said, it's not an easy topic to talk about. But talk to me about what led you to this book and the situation that ended up bringing you to being the person that you are now and talking to people and helping people through suicide. Alexandra Wyman [00:02:33]: Yeah, well, yeah, that's kind of a loaded intro there. I don't want to take up too much of your time on that, but I'll start with that. Coming out of college, I kind of bought into that idea with a successful life being. You meet a partner, you get married, you find your house, your white picket fence, you get your 2.5 children, your 1.5 dogs, you know the deal. And you get into a career, you stay there forever and then you retire, go travel, and then watch your kids and grandkids grow. That is so not how things went for me. So getting out of college, I just wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Had studied pre law, decided that wasn't the direction that was right for me. Alexandra Wyman [00:03:12]: Traveled a bit, did not have a partner house nor children, and then just continued on. Eventually did get my master's in occupational therapy and was getting pretty comfortable in the single life in my 30s when I met Sean. And it was happenstance I had sworn off, I was like, I'm over this. I'm not doing this anymore. And of course, that's always when the person comes into your life. And we had a very strong connection, just really hit it off. And being a little bit older, decided we didn't want to mess with all the niceties. Sometimes that comes with dating and getting to know each other. Alexandra Wyman [00:03:47]: So within about a year after meeting each other, we got married, bought that house, and found out that I was pregnant. And finally I thought oh, okay. It took me a little bit longer than other people I know, but let me check off that list of what this successful life looks like. And both of us were in our successful careers, and life looked great. And nothing is ever perfect, let me say that. There's nothing perfect about our marriage or our relationship. Like, there isn't really in any relationship. And then four days before our second wedding anniversary, sean ended up taking his life. Alexandra Wyman [00:04:20]: And talk about rug being pulled out from underneath you and looking at this going, Wait, I thought I got there right? I got to the successful life. What do you mean now he's dead. This is not how things are supposed to go. And then in addition to that, so not only is there massive grief, our son was just over one when Sean passed. And then there's some complications with trauma and additional drama from other individuals involved in the situation and trying to sort through all of that. And I kept finding that even initially, within even that first four to six weeks, where I just was like, what are the tools I can use for this? And I found that it's very inconsistent, the support that's available to individuals and survivors. And so in my particular personal situation, I was told there'd be an advocate from the county who would come and support me. And I had one conversation with that person and never heard again from the county. Alexandra Wyman [00:05:11]: So there's so much that has to happen. And often we say, don't make any decisions in that first year, and you have to make decisions immediately. Like day zero, I had to make decisions. So I started jotting down notes of things that I found helpful or didn't find helpful or ways that things that I was experiencing, such as cognitive overload or not being able to really function past a certain time or even eating. I started jotting notes over, I was able to eat today, I wasn't able to eat yesterday. And then I figured out that what I essentially wanted to end up doing was help someone else. So that whatever path I had to forge on my own because there wasn't as much support that someone else wouldn't have to go through that even three weeks after Sean passed, I got a phone call saying, so a friend's husband just died by suicide. Can you reach out to them and be a it doesn't stop. Alexandra Wyman [00:06:00]: Even though I hoped it would have stopped with Sean's passing, it didn't. And so people are passing this way still frequently. And so I decided that maybe if I could write a book or give tips and tricks of what I found worked for me, that maybe it would help someone else along the way. And so that's how the inception of the book came. Really didn't think I would ever publish it. And then it all just kind of fell into place. And here we are now being able to really talk and hopefully empower and encourage other people to have conversations and start talking more about this. Because as much as I'd like this type of death to go away, it isn't. Christopher Lewis [00:06:34]: One of the things that comes to mind before we get into some of the tips and tricks post suicide is, I guess, after this happened to you in your life, I'm sure there's a lot of questioning, there's a lot of things that probably go through your head of what should I have seen? Or were there things I could have seen that could have helped along the way? And I'm sure that there have been many people that have asked you questions that you've supported along the way and probably asked those same questions. What do you say to those individuals as they go through that questioning process? Alexandra Wyman [00:07:09]: It's so complicated because on the one hand, absolutely you're going to run through the scenarios. What could you have done differently? How could you have been a different support? Was there something I still go through that? Was there something I could have done the day of? I knew ahead of time what was happening and spent a considerable amount of time trying to access Sean before he passed. So there's so many different scenarios that you can run through and do that. And so there's a few different ways I look at this. One of the ways that I'll say is there aren't really obvious signs that someone is going to pass this way. As much as that would be very comforting and provide some safety and security, that our loved ones aren't going to go through something like this. There just isn't. That doesn't mean that if people are hurting that you can't reach out or check on them or ask them directly, are you thinking of harming yourself or being able to have tools to help, not confront, but help someone who you think is struggling. Alexandra Wyman [00:08:08]: Sean did have his own struggles and stress that were going on and I just took ask. I won't say I didn't ask the right questions. I think I just didn't provide enough of an avenue for him to feel more comfortable talking to me as he got to that point. And to be honest, I don't think there's any right or wrong way to do can't. I've had to work through holding on to the guilt around that. So it's easy to take on the responsibility that someone getting to this point, that it was any of us involved around Sean, that it was our responsibility to, quote, save him. The other thing I'll say is when it comes to questions around that, of thinking back on what we could have done differently or how to approach people, I'm just a big proponent now of just spread the love. Just tell everyone that you love them or how much they mean to you and really see people for who they are. Alexandra Wyman [00:08:58]: And I think that is a missing link that sometimes we just miss in general. So often it's almost as though we understand that someone is hurting when they've been hurting for quite a bit of time and just haven't known and then something like this can happen. So those are kind of like the first two ways that I go about it and when I'm asked or if I'm talking to someone about it. Shifting the death away from ourselves to the individual is one of the things that I recommend only because it is easy to take responsibility for someone else's actions and it is easy to wonder again what could we have done? You can always do something differently, but to what extent is it your responsibility to have done something differently? And the truth is, for my situation, I could have done something completely different in all the different scenarios and the outcome still could have been the same. And that's still hard to kind of wrap your head around. But when I was able to start shifting Sean's death away from it was something that happened to me and more to this person was in this much pain that this was what they ended up finding was their way to end their pain. For me, it created a bigger opportunity for compassion because it's not easy to get to that point and to have that immense amount of emotional and mental pain or physical pain. Whatever is going on, in my opinion, there's pain. Alexandra Wyman [00:10:19]: And an individual who gets to a point of contemplating suicide is that that's what they're seeing is the only way to end it at that point in time. Christopher Lewis [00:10:26]: So as you talked a lot right there about things that you had to do to be able to get through this. And I guess one question that comes to my mind is from an outsider perspective, when someone you know is going through this, not that person that has committed suicide, but the person that has been affected or the family that has been affected. From an outsider perspective, what are some things that others can do to best support those that have been primarily impacted? Not to say that everyone in that circle and the concentric circles are not being impacted in some way, but to offer that support, to be able to be there. Because like I said at the beginning, it's not an easy thing to talk about. Alexandra Wyman [00:11:15]: Very true. And that's such a hard question because I do think it's individualized. However, at the same time, I think what often happens is when we see someone who's hurting, we often look to that person to almost bring us comfort. So in my situation, I can say people are like, what can we do for you? How can we help? And it's this idea of, we can't fix it. We're watching someone hurt. And it's unbearable to watch someone in so much pain. And oftentimes what I need, you can't give me. I need him to walk through the door. Alexandra Wyman [00:11:45]: You can't do that for me. What I did find was helpful was when people would just reach out and say, I'm here for you when you're ready. And rather than leave it up to me to say, what do you need? I had people who are like, I'm going to bring you some food. I'm going to pick up your son and we're going to go. I'm going to offer babysitting for you. Just having that opportunity or that offer was very helpful. There are sometimes people are like, I'm coming over just to see how you're doing. That I found more helpful because in those moments of stress, it's so hard to make decisions, right? You're already making decisions, but you're still in shock. Alexandra Wyman [00:12:18]: There's so much that's going on emotionally and mentally and just trying to wrap your head around everything that is going on at once. And as I mentioned, my situation was not unique in the additional stuff that was going on and threats of legal action and having to figure out where we were going to live. I mean, all of these things that come up. And so just being there and also patient because I find and just like any type of loss or death, actually people are available in those first two to three weeks. What can we do? We're here for you. And then as the dust settles, most people go back to their lives. For me, it was the people who were still hanging around checking in on me after that who I found once I was out of my shock and actually had to start living again or trying to figure out how to live while also dealing with this massive amount of grief. Those people who would check in on me at that point in time were extremely helpful. Alexandra Wyman [00:13:10]: Again, just saying we're here for you was a good reminder to me of, oh, I can go ask for help. It's still hard to do, but to go ask for help and to reach out to those people and that's what I would say is it's almost like just being present for the individual and letting them know that you're there when they can handle having that relationship or figure out what exactly they need. Christopher Lewis [00:13:33]: So earlier you said that when this all happened with your husband that your son was one and that's pretty young and not everybody is going to have a young child. So your situation is probably going to be different than other situations as you've talked to others and worked through this with your own child and are probably still working through this with your own child. What are some of the things that you've learned about how best to talk to a child about this, whether it is their parent, a grandparent, or other family member or friend? What are some of the best ways in which you can help a child to work through this? Alexandra Wyman [00:14:16]: This is a great question and definitely still something I'm learning. My son asked about his dad about six months earlier than I was expecting. That was a nice Sunday morning and I went, okay, we're going to do this now. So from everything that I've heard read and also found in my own therapy is honesty really is the best policy. If we leave up too much and concrete honesty, that's age appropriate. If we leave too much ambiguity in what we're saying to the child, they're going to fill in the gaps. And I will say that I thought with my son that I was being really honest and concrete and have found I wasn't. So when I initially had the conversation with him, he was three and a half, and I said, Daddy chose to die. Alexandra Wyman [00:15:01]: He was in a lot of pain and didn't know how to ask for help. And a big thing that came up for me with this was I wanted to make sure that I was communicating to my son that if he was in pain to ask for help. And also to say if you scrape your knee and it hurts, you're not going to die. Pain does not equal death. So I tried to do that and thought I was very concrete and then actually have been working with a play therapist with my son to help with this process as well and have done some group therapy myself. And essentially what happens is they fill in that gap of, well, where's this body, where's this person? And so saying daddy did something to his body to make it stop working. And that's again, using age appropriate language. My son is four now, so still along that. Alexandra Wyman [00:15:52]: But there are different ways to kind of scaffold what that language would be depending on the age. But I've had a friend who didn't initially give her kids the honest answer and she said it was far worse than when she was actually able to sit down and tell them the truth. And even I've been coached that even for four, using the word suicide is okay because it gives them a word for what happened. Again, that concrete perspective. So I think being able to say Daddy died by suicide, which means he did something to his body to make it stop working, which I love that I'm able to say it now because I still haven't been able to say it to my son yet. I get a little of a clemped and then I'm like, oh gosh, I can do this. And he still asks, but with the support of other people. That's kind of the direction that I've heard, but definitely going with that level of honesty as early as you can. Christopher Lewis [00:16:40]: So what I'm hearing from you in this journey, and I'm going to use that word, this journey that you have been on since you lost your husband, your husband took his life, and you've had to move into what is your new normal. And I'm sure that's still evolving and it will continue to evolve. Talk to me about some of the things that you have had to and ended up putting in your book in regards to some of the tools, the strategies, the resources that you've had to rely upon that others should know about or should help and provide and to support others. Alexandra Wyman [00:17:18]: So tools change daily. I just want to start there because sometimes I don't know for your listeners, but I know for myself that I will pick a tool and I'm like, awesome, I found the magic thing that's going to make everything feel better. I'm going to use this every day and then I get to the next day and go, oh no, that doesn't work. So I'm a big fan of having a toolbox and finding which tool work on which day, and there's been lots of them. Therapy is definitely one that has helped with a grief specific therapist. I think that helps only because grief is so random and such a roller coaster that even now approaching three years where I'm like, okay, good, I'm great, I'm having a great day. And then I'll still get hit with something and go, oh, right, okay, I'm not where I thought I would be. And you were right earlier. Alexandra Wyman [00:18:08]: This is a journey and it's a lifetime journey. It just changes and morphs and certain things. I could maybe go a couple of years and feel great and then another year something will hit me harder. So it is very up and down. I have used so therapy, journaling, meditation, definitely screaming, done my own scream therapy. I have exercised, although initially I was encouraged very early on to exercise and I became like a child myself and told the doctor, you go exercise right now. It's hard for me to even get out of bed. But it is true. Alexandra Wyman [00:18:43]: It is helpful, even if it's just a short, slow walk. I have relied on friends to even talk through things to see. I've looked at blogs, researched all sorts of parenting books to figure out how to do this as a single parent. So there are lots of different ways to go about this. I think the main thing is to try certain things and definitely work through whatever is going on in front of you. Skirting around it, ignoring the grief or the emotions doesn't help at all. And in fact, all it does is kind of prolong that process. And it's horrible. Alexandra Wyman [00:19:19]: It's a horrible process. It's extremely hard, but it's very rewarding once you get to the other side. Oh, I even consulted a medium. Where am I going? I started reading all sorts of books on death. What happens in different cultures and how different people view death. I went down a whole rabbit hole on that. So I'd say quite the gamut of tools for the emotional piece. There's definitely some other things for kind of the business. Alexandra Wyman [00:19:43]: I don't know if you want me to go into some of the business stuff, but there is a lot to have to manage. But I think just take that first step forward of trying something is the. Christopher Lewis [00:19:53]: Most important for someone that is picking up your book and they are looking for some answers and wanting to get those resources that you've been able to capture and be able to identify for yourself. What are some of the biggest takeaways that you're hoping that people are going to take from the book itself? Alexandra Wyman [00:20:12]: Probably the biggest takeaway is that you can get through this. I had someone say that to me. It was actually one of the sheriff's officers who had to inform me that Sean had passed and she had lost her husband by suicide eight months prior. And she said, you're not going to believe me, but you can get through this. And she was right. I did not believe her. But it is possible. Taking 1ft in front of the other, finding something to anchor to, to help you on those days where it's ridiculously hard and you don't want to live, that does happen. Alexandra Wyman [00:20:44]: But finding something to anchor to that keeps you here, because when you can get through the sludge is what I call it. When you can get through those horrible feelings, when you can start to let your mind and body start to heal, it is worth it and you can find joy that's left in this life. It looks different. I'll say that how I view things now in life is very different than before. But it is possible to do that. Christopher Lewis [00:21:08]: Talk to me about that anchor, because I'm sure that you have to retether every so often and it may be even be on a daily basis. So what do you have to do to re anchor yourself now that you've gone through this? It's three years later, and you are looking toward the future. Alexandra Wyman [00:21:25]: Yeah. So initially, I'd say my anchor was my son. Very early on, I was aware that while I knew this situation was going to impact us, I didn't want it to dictate things for us. And I wanted to make sure that while I could talk to him about his dad, I didn't want his dad's death to just be hanging over him or over me. To the point where if I couldn't continue to move forward, how that would impact him and the anchor does change in a sense of now I can look and find a different meaning and purpose. My life was going in a very different trajectory before Sean died and realizing how it's different now and then finding meaning and purpose in that. And so while my son was able to help me work know that initial shock and get through those and he still is my anchor for sure. Finding that meaning and purpose of how I want to take the aftermath and my experience in this journey and be able to pay it forward and help other people has now become my anchor that's now become how I keep putting 1ft in front of the other. Christopher Lewis [00:22:27]: Well, Alexandra, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for sharing your story, for sharing what you've gone through and for helping others that have gone through similar situations or may go through similar situations. Because this is kind of as I said at the beginning, it's a topic that it's taboo in society. It's hard to talk about, but it's important to talk about and to confront and to ask. I mean, I've gone through training at work, and we've talked about suicide and suicide prevention. And one of the interesting things is something that you said at the very beginning was the fact that if you truly think that someone is going to harm themselves, you need to ask that question. You need to say, Are you planning on harming yourself? And it's not something that you typically would go to a person and say, but it is so important. Are there other pieces that you want to leave for anyone to think about if they're concerned about someone, if they're concerned for themselves, that you would leave today? Alexandra Wyman [00:23:31]: Yeah, it's such a good question. I would say if you are someone who is hurting and feeling that this is potentially a way to end that pain, you're not broken, you're not defective, and there is some hope and help for you. And if you can take that step to actually reach out and just let someone know you need help to be seen, absolutely. I see you. Chris sees you. We're here to see you and to see that pain. You're definitely more than that pain. And for other individuals who are worried about their loved ones. Alexandra Wyman [00:24:07]: Like you said, Chris, ask the question. Shower them with love and see your person again for who they are and to tell them that you care about them, that you're there. And again, no matter the outcome. It's not our individual responsibility, because we all have that choice. But to just show someone that you genuinely care and are there for them is what I would say. Christopher Lewis [00:24:28]: And one of the resources that I will share with you is something that any of you should be able to access in your own area. And that's nine eight eight. Keep that number in mind. We have 911, but now you have 988, which is the suicide and crisis lifeline, and it is open 24 hours a day. They have multiple languages. And if you are hurting, as Alexandra said, if you feel like you need to reach out, have a lifeline, dial nine eight eight. Talk to someone, they will talk to you, they will work with you and they'll help you through it. And that is such an important resource that has not been there very long, but it is now available throughout the United States, and it is something that I would highly encourage any person to take advantage of. Alexandra Wyman [00:25:16]: Absolutely. Yes, please do, Alexandra. Christopher Lewis [00:25:19]: If people want to find out more about you about the book, where should they go? Alexandra Wyman [00:25:22]: So my website is Forwardtojoy.com, all spelled out. You can email me at alexandra@forwardtojoy.com. I'm on Instagram at Forwardtojoy. But definitely there are also additional resources on my website for any individual who's in this aftermath of trying to handle some of the business with the estate. There's also one on one coaching that I offer for going through this process. So definitely check out the website. That'd probably be the best way. And the book is on Amazon and on a couple of different websites as. Christopher Lewis [00:25:51]: Well, and I will put a link in there. It is forwardtojoy.com. As Alexandra just said, I love the quote that's on there. Life is unpredictable as a notion. What is predictable is how we handle what life hands us. And I think that is such an important thing to think about and to think about for your own self and how that impacts you and your family, because it is so true. Alexander, thanks so much for being here. I truly appreciate you sharing your journey, and I wish you all the best. Alexandra Wyman [00:26:23]: Thanks so much. Christopher Lewis [00:26:23]: Chris if you've enjoyed today's episode of the Dads with Daughters podcast, we invite you to check out The Fatherhood Insider. The Fatherhood Insider is the essential resource for any dad that wants to be the best dad that he can be. We know that no child comes with an instruction manual, and most dads are figuring it out as they go along. And The Fatherhood Insider is full of resources and information that will up your game on Fatherhood through our extensive course library, interactive forum, step. By step, roadmaps and more. You will engage and learn with experts but more importantly, dads like you. So check it out@fatheringtogether.org. If you are a father of a daughter and have not yet joined the Dads with Daughters Facebook community, there's a link in the notes. Christopher Lewis [00:27:09]: Today Dads with Daughters is a program of fathering together. We look forward to having you back for another great guest next week. All geared to helping you raise strong, empowered daughters and be the best dad that you can be. We're all in the same boat and it's full of tiny screaming passengers. We spend the time we give the lessons we make the meals we buy them present and bring your A game because those kids are growing fast. The time goes by just like a dynamite glass calling astronauts and firemen carpenters and muscle men get out and be the one to now be the best dad you can be be the best dad you can be.

Marvels like enchanted rings and sorcerers' stones were topics of fascination in the Middle Ages, not only in romance and travel literature but also in the period's philosophical writing. Rather than constructions of belief accepted only by simple-minded people, Michelle Karnes shows that these spectacular wonders were near impossibilities that demanded scrutiny and investigation. Medieval Marvels and Fictions in the Latin West and Islamic World (U Chicago Press, 2022) is the first book to analyze a diverse set of writings on such wonders, comparing texts from the Latin West—including those written in English, French, Italian, and Castilian Spanish —with those written in Arabic as it works toward a unifying theory of marvels across different disciplines and cultures. Karnes tells a story about the parallels between Arabic and Latin thought, reminding us that experiences of the strange and the unfamiliar travel across a range of genres, spanning geographical and conceptual space and offering an ideal vantage point from which to understand intercultural exchange. Karnes traverses this diverse archive, showing how imagination imbues marvels with their character and power, making them at once enigmatic, creative, and resonant. Skirting the distinction between the real and unreal, these marvels challenge readers to discover the highest capabilities of both nature and the human intellect. Karnes offers a rare comparative perspective and a new methodology to study a topic long recognized as central to medieval culture. Michelle Karnes is professor of English and the history of philosophy and science at the University of Notre Dame. She is the author of Imagination, Meditation, and Cognition in the Middle Ages and the coeditor of Studies in the Age of Chaucer. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Marvels like enchanted rings and sorcerers' stones were topics of fascination in the Middle Ages, not only in romance and travel literature but also in the period's philosophical writing. Rather than constructions of belief accepted only by simple-minded people, Michelle Karnes shows that these spectacular wonders were near impossibilities that demanded scrutiny and investigation. Medieval Marvels and Fictions in the Latin West and Islamic World (U Chicago Press, 2022) is the first book to analyze a diverse set of writings on such wonders, comparing texts from the Latin West—including those written in English, French, Italian, and Castilian Spanish —with those written in Arabic as it works toward a unifying theory of marvels across different disciplines and cultures. Karnes tells a story about the parallels between Arabic and Latin thought, reminding us that experiences of the strange and the unfamiliar travel across a range of genres, spanning geographical and conceptual space and offering an ideal vantage point from which to understand intercultural exchange. Karnes traverses this diverse archive, showing how imagination imbues marvels with their character and power, making them at once enigmatic, creative, and resonant. Skirting the distinction between the real and unreal, these marvels challenge readers to discover the highest capabilities of both nature and the human intellect. Karnes offers a rare comparative perspective and a new methodology to study a topic long recognized as central to medieval culture. Michelle Karnes is professor of English and the history of philosophy and science at the University of Notre Dame. She is the author of Imagination, Meditation, and Cognition in the Middle Ages and the coeditor of Studies in the Age of Chaucer. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Marvels like enchanted rings and sorcerers' stones were topics of fascination in the Middle Ages, not only in romance and travel literature but also in the period's philosophical writing. Rather than constructions of belief accepted only by simple-minded people, Michelle Karnes shows that these spectacular wonders were near impossibilities that demanded scrutiny and investigation. Medieval Marvels and Fictions in the Latin West and Islamic World (U Chicago Press, 2022) is the first book to analyze a diverse set of writings on such wonders, comparing texts from the Latin West—including those written in English, French, Italian, and Castilian Spanish —with those written in Arabic as it works toward a unifying theory of marvels across different disciplines and cultures. Karnes tells a story about the parallels between Arabic and Latin thought, reminding us that experiences of the strange and the unfamiliar travel across a range of genres, spanning geographical and conceptual space and offering an ideal vantage point from which to understand intercultural exchange. Karnes traverses this diverse archive, showing how imagination imbues marvels with their character and power, making them at once enigmatic, creative, and resonant. Skirting the distinction between the real and unreal, these marvels challenge readers to discover the highest capabilities of both nature and the human intellect. Karnes offers a rare comparative perspective and a new methodology to study a topic long recognized as central to medieval culture. Michelle Karnes is professor of English and the history of philosophy and science at the University of Notre Dame. She is the author of Imagination, Meditation, and Cognition in the Middle Ages and the coeditor of Studies in the Age of Chaucer. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/islamic-studies

Marvels like enchanted rings and sorcerers' stones were topics of fascination in the Middle Ages, not only in romance and travel literature but also in the period's philosophical writing. Rather than constructions of belief accepted only by simple-minded people, Michelle Karnes shows that these spectacular wonders were near impossibilities that demanded scrutiny and investigation. Medieval Marvels and Fictions in the Latin West and Islamic World (U Chicago Press, 2022) is the first book to analyze a diverse set of writings on such wonders, comparing texts from the Latin West—including those written in English, French, Italian, and Castilian Spanish —with those written in Arabic as it works toward a unifying theory of marvels across different disciplines and cultures. Karnes tells a story about the parallels between Arabic and Latin thought, reminding us that experiences of the strange and the unfamiliar travel across a range of genres, spanning geographical and conceptual space and offering an ideal vantage point from which to understand intercultural exchange. Karnes traverses this diverse archive, showing how imagination imbues marvels with their character and power, making them at once enigmatic, creative, and resonant. Skirting the distinction between the real and unreal, these marvels challenge readers to discover the highest capabilities of both nature and the human intellect. Karnes offers a rare comparative perspective and a new methodology to study a topic long recognized as central to medieval culture. Michelle Karnes is professor of English and the history of philosophy and science at the University of Notre Dame. She is the author of Imagination, Meditation, and Cognition in the Middle Ages and the coeditor of Studies in the Age of Chaucer. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/middle-eastern-studies

Marvels like enchanted rings and sorcerers' stones were topics of fascination in the Middle Ages, not only in romance and travel literature but also in the period's philosophical writing. Rather than constructions of belief accepted only by simple-minded people, Michelle Karnes shows that these spectacular wonders were near impossibilities that demanded scrutiny and investigation. Medieval Marvels and Fictions in the Latin West and Islamic World (U Chicago Press, 2022) is the first book to analyze a diverse set of writings on such wonders, comparing texts from the Latin West—including those written in English, French, Italian, and Castilian Spanish —with those written in Arabic as it works toward a unifying theory of marvels across different disciplines and cultures. Karnes tells a story about the parallels between Arabic and Latin thought, reminding us that experiences of the strange and the unfamiliar travel across a range of genres, spanning geographical and conceptual space and offering an ideal vantage point from which to understand intercultural exchange. Karnes traverses this diverse archive, showing how imagination imbues marvels with their character and power, making them at once enigmatic, creative, and resonant. Skirting the distinction between the real and unreal, these marvels challenge readers to discover the highest capabilities of both nature and the human intellect. Karnes offers a rare comparative perspective and a new methodology to study a topic long recognized as central to medieval culture. Michelle Karnes is professor of English and the history of philosophy and science at the University of Notre Dame. She is the author of Imagination, Meditation, and Cognition in the Middle Ages and the coeditor of Studies in the Age of Chaucer. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/folkore

Marvels like enchanted rings and sorcerers' stones were topics of fascination in the Middle Ages, not only in romance and travel literature but also in the period's philosophical writing. Rather than constructions of belief accepted only by simple-minded people, Michelle Karnes shows that these spectacular wonders were near impossibilities that demanded scrutiny and investigation. Medieval Marvels and Fictions in the Latin West and Islamic World (U Chicago Press, 2022) is the first book to analyze a diverse set of writings on such wonders, comparing texts from the Latin West—including those written in English, French, Italian, and Castilian Spanish —with those written in Arabic as it works toward a unifying theory of marvels across different disciplines and cultures. Karnes tells a story about the parallels between Arabic and Latin thought, reminding us that experiences of the strange and the unfamiliar travel across a range of genres, spanning geographical and conceptual space and offering an ideal vantage point from which to understand intercultural exchange. Karnes traverses this diverse archive, showing how imagination imbues marvels with their character and power, making them at once enigmatic, creative, and resonant. Skirting the distinction between the real and unreal, these marvels challenge readers to discover the highest capabilities of both nature and the human intellect. Karnes offers a rare comparative perspective and a new methodology to study a topic long recognized as central to medieval culture. Michelle Karnes is professor of English and the history of philosophy and science at the University of Notre Dame. She is the author of Imagination, Meditation, and Cognition in the Middle Ages and the coeditor of Studies in the Age of Chaucer. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/intellectual-history

Marvels like enchanted rings and sorcerers' stones were topics of fascination in the Middle Ages, not only in romance and travel literature but also in the period's philosophical writing. Rather than constructions of belief accepted only by simple-minded people, Michelle Karnes shows that these spectacular wonders were near impossibilities that demanded scrutiny and investigation. Medieval Marvels and Fictions in the Latin West and Islamic World (U Chicago Press, 2022) is the first book to analyze a diverse set of writings on such wonders, comparing texts from the Latin West—including those written in English, French, Italian, and Castilian Spanish —with those written in Arabic as it works toward a unifying theory of marvels across different disciplines and cultures. Karnes tells a story about the parallels between Arabic and Latin thought, reminding us that experiences of the strange and the unfamiliar travel across a range of genres, spanning geographical and conceptual space and offering an ideal vantage point from which to understand intercultural exchange. Karnes traverses this diverse archive, showing how imagination imbues marvels with their character and power, making them at once enigmatic, creative, and resonant. Skirting the distinction between the real and unreal, these marvels challenge readers to discover the highest capabilities of both nature and the human intellect. Karnes offers a rare comparative perspective and a new methodology to study a topic long recognized as central to medieval culture. Michelle Karnes is professor of English and the history of philosophy and science at the University of Notre Dame. She is the author of Imagination, Meditation, and Cognition in the Middle Ages and the coeditor of Studies in the Age of Chaucer. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/european-studies

Skirting the edges of stardom, Chris Whitley passed away far too young at 45, but left a catalog of albums more influential than they were ever popular. A wide array of artists, from John Mayer to Joe Bonamassa have lauded Whitley's playing and songwriting, so we're diving into this 1995 sophomore album Din of Ecstasy. Whereas his debut was a slickly produced blues rock album that produced a Top 40 Mainstream Rock chart hit, the follow-up sounds more in line with the happenings of the decade. The big fuzz of Dinosaur Jr. appears on "Din," while a guitar solo on "God Thing" conjures images of Soundgarden's Kim Thayil, as Whitley embraces complex guitar riffs and atmospheric production that sound both of the time and timeless. The only hitch? The album is a slow burn, and a checked-out, background noise listen won't do it justice.   Songs In This Episode Intro - Din 22:21 - God Thing 40:06 - Know 45:20 - Some Candy Talking 59:02 - Never Outro - Narcotic Prayer   Support the podcast, join the DMO UNION at Patreon. Listen to the episode archive at DigMeOutPodcast.com.

Some of our favorite authors are giving away free short stories and winning Locus Awards. What the best book club pick we ever made was. Why books that make you uncomfortable are important to read. And our last thoughts on Fourth Wing.

Hunter Biden reached an agreement with the Justice Department to plead guilty to misdemeanor tax offenses and enter a pretrial diversion agreement on a felony firearm offense charge which allows him to avoid prosecution. The deal ends a long-running investigation and avoids a trial that would have created ongoing distracting White House headlines. House Oversight Committee Chair James Comer released a statement saying the plea agreement reveals a "two-tiered system of justice." Do you think the average Joe would have been offered the same deal?

Continued conversation about Hunter Biden's agreement with the Justice Department to plead guilty to misdemeanor tax offenses and enter a pretrial diversion agreement on a felony firearm offense charge which allows him to avoid prosecution. Dan's question was whether the average Joe would have been offered the same deal.

In this episode Kelsie and Brooke question their feminism as they discuss the importance of tackling controversial issues in the classroom. Are they good enough feminists if they encourage inquiry? Probably not. Time to level up ladies. Get ⁠FREE Lesson Plans⁠ Become a ⁠patron of Remedial Herstory⁠ and get all the goodies Enroll in our ⁠Masters Classes⁠ Register for our ⁠Summer Educator's Retreat⁠ SHOP ⁠Remedial Herstory Gear⁠ Bibliography: Martell, Christopher C., Ed. Social Studies Teacher Education: Critical Issues and Current Perspectives. IAP: Charlotte, NC. 2018. Martell, Christopher C., and Kaylene M. Stevens. “Perceptions of Teaching Race and Gender: Results of a Survey of Social Studies Teachers.” The High School Journal 101, no. 4 (2018): 274–99. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26785824. Scheiner-Fisher, Cicely. "The Inclusion of Women's History In The Secondary Social Studies Classroom." Electronic Theses and Dissertations. University of Central Florida, 2013. Schmeichel, M. (2015). Skirting around critical feminist rationales for teaching women in social studies. Theory & Research in Social Education, 43(1), 1–27. Shocker, J. B. (2014). A case for using images to teach women's history. The History Teacher, 47(3) Shocker, J. B., & Woyshner, C. (2013). Representing African American women in U.S. history textbooks. The Social Studies, 104(1), 23–31. Stevens, Kaylene M., & Martell, Christopher C. An avenue for challenging sexism: Examining the high school sociology classroom. Journal of Social Science Education, 15(1), 2016, 63–73. Stevens, Kaylene M. & Martell, Christopher C. Feminist Social Studies Teachers: The Role of Teachers' Backgrounds and Beliefs in Shaping Gender-Equitable Practices. Journal of Social Studies Research. 10.1016/j.jssr.2018.02.002, 2018.

Go to https://public.com/defranco to start getting a 5.0% yield on your cash! Snag One of Our NEW Beautiful Bastard Tie-Dyed Champion Hoodies! https://BeautifulBastard.com Catch Up on Yesterday's Show Here: https://youtu.be/k-nL_o8hh-M Check Out Sunday's Show: https://youtu.be/USax506Qkyw – 00:00 -- Billie Eilish Social Media Anxiety as CDC Report Shows Terrifying Mental Health Impact 03:36 -- FBI Investigating Deaths at Harris County Jail 05:57 -- Vets Discharged Under “Don't Ask Don't Tell” Still Denied Benefits 07:40 -- Sponsored by Public 08:33 -- Lack of Wheelchair Access Forces Denver Councilman to Crawl on Stage 10:14 -- How the Wealthy Save Billions in Taxes by Skirting a Century-Old Law – ✩ TODAY'S STORIES ✩ Billie Eilish Talks Social Media as CDC Report Shows Overall Mental Health Impact: https://www.interviewmagazine.com/music/lana-del-rey-and-billie-eilish-fall-in-love https://twitter.com/nytimes/status/1625214484812820481?s=20 FBI Investigating Deaths at Harris County Jail: https://www.npr.org/2023/02/15/1157215405/fbi-jail-deaths-harris-county-houston-civil-rights-investigations Vets Discharged Under “Don't Ask Don't Tell” Still Denied Benefits: https://roguerocket.com/2023/02/16/vets-discharge-dont-ask-dont-tell/ Lack of Wheelchair Access Forces Denver Councilman to Crawl on Stage: https://roguerocket.com/2023/02/16/denver-councilman-crawled-no-wheelchair-access/ How the Wealthy Save Billions in Taxes by Skirting a Century-Old Law: https://www.propublica.org/article/irs-files-taxes-wash-sales-goldman-sachs ✩ STORIES NOT IN TODAY'S SHOW ✩ Twitter Becomes First Major Social Media Platform to Allow Cannabis Ads in U.S.: https://roguerocket.com/2023/02/16/twitter-cannabis-ads/ —————————— Produced by: Cory Ray Edited by: James Girardier, Maxwell Enright, Julie Goldberg, Christian Meeks Art Department: William Crespo Writing/Research: Philip DeFranco, Maddie Crichton, Lili Stenn, Brian Espinoza, Chris Tolve, Star Pralle Interview Produced by: Lili Stenn, Cory Ray ———————————— #DeFranco #BillieEilish #TikTok ————————————

This week on the Well Woman Show, I interview Tanya Taylor Rubinstein, narrative-based master teacher and founder of Somatic Writing. Tanya Taylor Rubinstein is the founder of Somatic Writing. She developed Somatic Writing as a way for her students to become embodied writers. By holistically liberating voice, untethering power and writing stories, they are able experience profound personal connection to their work. By writing and publishing memoirs and performing solo shows, her students become positioned as leaders in emergent culture. This process and praxis is the thirty-year synthesis of her work as a narrative-based master teacher. The emphasis of the work is on retrieving stories held in the body connected to ancestors, trauma, magic, and land. She has worked with well over a thousand people over the last twenty-one years to write memoirs, monologues, and solo shows. Her memoir, Skirting the Binary, is being published in 2023.She says Emergent planetary culture depends upon our ability to reconnect to ancestral wisdom, land, and our bodies. Now is the time to call back and write the stories of our magic. No part of our story has been more marginalized than the stories of our ancient, intuitive and psychic knowingsAs always, all the links and information are at wellwomanlife.com/307showThe Well Woman Show is thankful for the support from The Well Woman Academy™ at wellwomanlife.com/academy. Join us in the Academy for community, mindfulness practices, and practical support to live your Well Woman Life.