Extra Cream and Sugar

When I read some of the quotes from this book, I instantly fell in love. I’m going to check it out today.

“He looked at her and for a moment she lived in the bright blue worlds of his eyes, eagerly and confidently. ”

“He knew that there was passion there, but there was no shadow of it in her eyes or on her mouth; there was a faint spray of champagne on her breath. She clung nearer desperately and once more he kissed her and was chilled by the innocence of her kiss, by the glance that at the moment of contact looked beyond him out into the darkness of the night, the darkness of the world.”

Umar Farouk Abdulmatallab, is a Nigerian native who apparently was recruited by Al-Qaeda while travelling in Yemen. Not only did U.S. intelligence agents know that Al-Qaeda was operating in Yemen, and working with a Nigerian native to bomb a plane, but HIS OWN FATHER notified a U.S. embassy and other agencies that his son had “become radicalized” and “is involved in some sort of jihad.”   This guy, applied for a British Student visa, and a U.S. Student Visa in 2008 .  Apparently, on his applications the names of schools that do not exist were listed. The British Immigration department, noticed this on his application and denied it. The U.S. department, granted Abdulmatallab’s visa.  Christmas day arrives, and not only was his ticket paid for in cash, but the man carried NO luggage on a transcontinental flight! He passes through security checks, with highly a explosive chemical compound known as PETN sewn into his underwear. He took his seat and lit the substance on fire, within seconds other passengers had heard a pop and smelled smoke. One young male passenger jumped over rows of seats and swiftly tackled Abdulmutallab.

Even if all of the details our government learned of prior to Christmas day had never amounted to anything, couldn’t we have at least put his name on a no fly list? Did the U.S. Embassy in Nigeria report the father’s telephone call to the counter terrorism unit? Their website clearly states the use of inter agency communication and planning to prevent and protect our country against acts of terrorism. WTF happened?

The Mighty Boosh is a hilarious show!You won’t find any more stupid humor than these guys, some of episodes can contain some sexual references that may not be suitable for young children.

The Christmas holiday is fast approaching and I am really stuck on how to tackle the issue of my budget and the slim pickings of cool gifts. I have to buy Christmas gifts for my two daughters, my step-son, my little brother and my sister-in-law, and my parents. The cost of everything has gotten so high, that before you’ve even bought anything really good, you’ve gone over budget. Take for instance the Nintendo Wii games, at $49 per game , a $300 budget per child is spent in only 6 games! This season, I’m not seeing as many commercials on television for exciting new toys. I’m not seeing anything in ads that really “pop” as a great gift idea! I’m not a very good gift giver. I try very hard to pick out unique or really cool items, and they have to be of quality. On the other hand, I hate when people give you Christmas Lists full of nothing but things I don’t want to buy for them because they are ridiculously expensive or I know they aren’t very “gifty” like  gift cards to Burger King! How about something that doesn’t cost a fortune, but would mean a lot? For the cooking enthusiast, I would think maybe an indoor herb garden, and stuff their stocking with utensils??  Am I wrong here??

I personally can’t wait for this movie. I have always been a Highlander fan, despite the lackluster acting skills of Lambert & Adrian Paul,  the “budget-esque” special effects of the films (YES I MEAN THE SOURCE) . I still love the story idea and can’t wait to see the new point of view the script writers and movie director put on this new adaptation! It is true a lot of books are being interpreted into film and plenty of older films are being re-made, isn’t that the fun of Hollywood today? Even though, movies like The Day The Earth Stood Still, and The Taking of Pelham 123, weren’t the best things to happen to old ideas; we still have The Women and The Last House on the Left and I think it’s The Highlander’s turn now!

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore–
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“‘Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door–
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;–vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow–sorrow for the lost Lenore–
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore–
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me–filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“‘Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door–
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”–here I opened wide the door–
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”–
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my sour within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore–
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;–
‘Tis the wind and nothing more.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door–
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door–
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore–
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning–little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door–
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered–
Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have flown before–
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore–
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never–nevermore.’”

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore–
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee–by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite–respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!–
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted–
On this home by Horror haunted–tell me truly, I implore–
Is there–is there balm in Gilead?–tell me–tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us–by that God we both adore–
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore–
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting–
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!–quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted–nevermore!

Here are some photos from Row 2 of Section 423. All in all, not a bad set up down in DC. These general admission sections offer a really clear view of everything without being too far off. The only drawback is the steep incline and narrow rows.