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· I have a trolley (an old TV stand with wheels) with two ropes tied on to it – one going to the kitchen, the other going to the couch. I make a cup of coffee, stick it on the trolley, then crutch back to the couch, where I pull the trolley to my position via the rope. 3. Working from home (if possible) is great.
1 Corinthians 1:27. During a Billy Sunday evangelistic campaign, a mentally impaired boy came faithfully each night to sing in the choir. “Joey was not very bright,” said Homer Rodeheaver, the well-known song leader for Billy Sunday, “but he never missed any of our meetings and wouldn’t leave until he …
· Whenever I saw him, life was good: he’d drop off a package in the morning and I’d spend the day walking through Hollywood, dreaming of a successful show business career. Days when I didn’t see him I stayed in bed and longed for the basics, like an appetite or a functioning car.
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No Bud, inhumane would be to force him to work at a shoe store for minimum wage and then have him come home to a red-headed Shih Tzu. Sherry Cherry: So my sister and I got jobs as stewardesses because we thought that’s the way to become pilots.
· In the summer of 68 I was fire team leader for two Devil gunships on temporary duty at the An Khe Golf Course, the recently vacated home of the 1 st Cav. In addition to supporting a battalion of the 173 rd operating in the area we provided convoy escort and supported the Highway 19 defense from An Khe Pass in the east through Mang Yang Pass in the west.
“Look! The idiot is almost at-…no, I should not call him an idiot. Even if that is how I see him. Anyway, look, Tenzou! Toori is almost at the top! That means the idiot…no, I should not call him an idiot. Um.” “I-I get what you’re trying to say, so that’s good enough.” At any rate, the idiot had arrived near the ceiling.
Vladimir Nabokov Lolita PART ONE 1 Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet…
I never saw him again. I saw his brother once, when I was living in New York City. I asked how he was doing. The answer was generally noncommittal but clearly not good. I could commiserate. That same night I caught a cab home from Grand Central, rode with the window down, watching the city fly by, letting the air hit my face, feeling that old …
I saw him looking something up in a FAQ, which was first available in no-frills HTML, and had just been transformed from bare-bones HTML to some kind of format netscape wants. With frames, and blinks, and imagemaps without alternatives, and all kinds of layout intended as clues.