Marsha > Recent Status Updates

Jordan smiled at the ring on her finger. "I feel spoiled if someone takes me to the Old Spaghetti Factory for dinner." "A woman should never allow herself to be spoiled so easily," the Brazilian replied. Jordan raised her eyebrows. "Have you tasted their Garlic Mizithra?" "No." She wrinkled her nose. "It's incredible. Pasta covered with Mizithra cheese, browned butter, garlic and sauteed mushrooms."

"This is how people look at each other when they're really in love." He expected him to peg him with a simpering gaze, filled with longing--the kind that women who claimed to be in love with him had worn. But Pru didn't gaze at him like that. Instead she looked at him. Just looked at him, her eyes clear and calm, with a soft twinkle in them. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked. "My parents were the real deal."

Ruby got up and found a book on a shelf. She hadn't been around children, so she tried to remember what it was like to be one. "Why don't you just show the pictures to Joel, then? After supper I'll read it to you." She fried bacon and made a batch of pancakes. When Nash and the hands came to the kitchen she was scrambling eggs.

Lauren didn't know how much she'd wanted that kiss until Marco's lips covered heres. She wanted it the way famished people want food or thirsty travelers need water. That kiss reminded her of things that were more important than Prentice and his guards, reasons she would keep going, better things to come on the other side of the terror and worry and fear.

"I've been alone all my life until now," he said quietly, brushing back her hair as she finally got up and flushed the toilet. "So have I, really, except for Dad and Edna," she replied. "I feel awful." He picked her up gently and carried her back to bed. He put her down on the coverlet while he searched for her new yellow nightgown. "It's daylight," she said. "You can get up when you feel better."

Kate collapsed to the floor and put her ear to the speaker. "That voice...I thought his name was Julian." "He uses Jules now. He said that after his coma, he wanted a new name to signify a new chapter to his life." "Where is this show broadcast out of?" "Over by Rockefeller Center. On the ground floor. You can watch him." "I have to go." "Can you tell me why?" "Honestly, no. I promise you I'll explain later."

No matter how much the military hid civilian casualty figures, declaring them inflated by the opposition and so on, every civilian casualty was a loss She felt keenly. As for love...humans could make more abhorrent decisions for the sake of a 30-second orgasm than for nearly any other reason. Long-term marriages tossed away. Lust was so fleeting. But mortals talked themselves into believing it was real.

"My lady is worthy of the best." "I'm your lady now?" Chey tossed him a narrowed sideways glare. "You have a problem with that?" Chey pretended to ponder his question. "Hmm. I guess not." "I've waited a long time for this. Chey Rodgers, will you be my lady?" "Yes, Professor Barrington. I'll be your lady!"

Over the past couple of days, she had been brought face-to-face with the unvarnished fact that Kyle might like to have sex sometime in the next two years. She also knew from her reaction to Elise that she would not cope well if Kyle slept around.

The carriage stopped at the entrance of the lantern-festooned alley, and the party climbed down. They stood under the paper lanterns--were those Chinese characters that decorated them?--and stared into the teeming alley. Here, on a Sunday night, this strange street overflowed with life--stalls, shops; runners, walkers; odors, sounds, sights.

"You want some aspirin?" He opened his bedroom door and made his way down the stairs. "I took some earlier. It might be all the paint fumes doing me in. I kept a couple pieces of furniture you already had and repainted them today." "By yourself?" "Yes. I can do other things than pick paint colors and order things from catalogs."

She liked that time of day. Most of her mornings were spent on the phone with suppliers and contractors, but she felt isolated in this big house. As beautiful and peace4ful as it was, it wasn't Miami. She was okay with her own company, but she didn't like feeling alone in this house. She wondered how he could live for so long without human interaction.

"How you holding up?" he asked, lowering onto the vacant chair. "I left you with a lot to deal with yesterday." "And I'm dealing with it. Kind of." She propped her elbows on the table, cupped her chin with both hands. "Were you worried about me, when you got tot he house?" "At first. Then I was pissed. Then I was proud of you for bringing me down a notch."

Lauren had to wait eleven hours and twenty minutes after setting foot in the dusty, blazing inferno that was Behraat before she saw Zafir. This was home now, she reminded herself resolutely, even as she felt daunted by the task ahead.

His priority for the next few days was to make Jenna smile and to get her to see just how easy it would be to be intimate and still be friends. He wasn't looking for a lifetime commitment; they were already best friends and that was about as close to someone as he was willing to get.

Matthew's eyes flared with anger. "My little Annabel, is that how you speak to your father?" "I have no father. Now tell me my clue." "Why are you eager to cut short our visit?" "I am here for my clue." "I have a club of devoted fans. What if I sent a few of them after you? Or Josie? Would that get your attention?"

Jesse changed his mind about having enough time. He would make time. A second chance to talk to the pretty officer was slim, considering he rarely drove to town, and he duobted she would visit the farm.

Inside were the photos I knew so well: the invisible boy, the levitating girl, the boulder lifter, the man with a face painted on the back of his head. They were brittle and peeling--smaller than I remembered, too--and looking at them now, as an almost adult, it struck me how blatant the fakery was. The giant rock being hoisted by that suspiciously scrawny kid could have easily been made out of plaster or foam.

I found Gracie sitting on a wooden bench bolted to the patio in front of the nursing home. "Nurse Janine told me not to come back," I said. "It's not like they can afford to be picky," she said. "She didn't like my career goals." "Do you have career goals?" "Or course. I plan on lifting the zombie curse from our fellow students. Don't tell Ms. Benedetti."

Marco's back slams against the ground as though he has been roughly pushed, leaving him coughing both from the impact and the cloud of black ash surrounding him. It takes him a moment to realize he is standing next to the Wunschtraum clock. The clock is ticking toward midnight,t he harlequin juggler at the top balancing eleven balls amongst the twinkling stars and moving pieces.

I tidied my breakfast away and made two big roast lamb sandwiches with farm bread. One for Dirk and one for me. With mustard and gherkins and lettuce. I cut them each in half and put them in a Tupperware container. The cake slice glistened under its chocolate-rum icing. I wrapped it up in wax paper and popped it into the Tupperware too.

The man was leaning against a heavy woolen shirt. Still gazing at Barney, eyes flicking from his face to his clothes and back again, he said something curtly in the guttural speech. "I don't understand," Barney said. The man's face hardened a little. "English indeed," he said. "The voice to match the hair. Have they reached such a pass that they must use children now as spies?"

The woodland was sparse and open at first, leafy with bracken and undergrowth, still bright through the dappling shade. The road, though narrowed to a track, wound through the trees clear and sandy, but gradually it became less distinct, with patches of grass growing in the sand and the arms of creeping plants reaching across and now the air was cool as the wood grew deeper. The horses stepped warily, in single file.

Will was still listening to a single word echoing inside his head. He said to Bran, "Eirias?" "I didn't know," Bran said. "It just...came. It's a Welsh word. I means a big fire, a blaze." "And the crystal sword blazes indeed," said the bearded man. "Or so they tell, for few living have ever seen it, within memory here." "But we must find it," Will said. "Yes," the man said. "I know why you are here."

Will glanced across without really seeing. Behind his eyes he was looking into his own mind and memory, not at Bran. here in this place he was an Old One, occupied with the affairs of the Light; nothing else had very much relevance. He said, "It is the order of things, by which the High Magic shall be known. So that none may come within reach of it except by birthright."

The sweat was standing on his own forehead now as it had done on the rector's. Will could see the strain on the faces of the others, farmer Dawson most of all. Slowly he moved his hands inwards, bringing the hands each held closer to one another; John Smith's left hand nearer to Farmer Dawson's right. And when they were close enough, he joined his neighbours' hands, shutting himself out.

Merriman led him to a side door and they walked through a little passage into a high bright room that Will did not at once recognise. It was only when he caught sight of the fireplace that he realised where he was. There was the wide hearth, and the broad mantel with its square panels and carved Tudor rose-emblems. In the place where Will had once gone into the little library, there was no longer any door.

Of course, tnhe policies that have held up the marriage model as the only model are incredibly varied: They range from the lack of subsidized childcare and school days that end in the midd afternoons to the Hyde Amendment, which prevents poor women rom using nay federal money to pay for abortions, making it difficult for them to exert control over the size of their families.

As with so many social developments for women that first stemmed from economic necessity, the possibility of not marrying and of having children out of wedlock, developed amongst people for whom marriage was no longer the most economically beneficial option.

Meaghan said that she gets no pressure to settle down anytime soon from either her father or her mother. In fact, her father has told her that she cannot get married until she graduates. Meaghan's mother was a college sophomore when her parents married; her dad got a job and her mother dropped out of school to move to Texas, never graduating. "Maybe that's the reason my dad wants me to finishe college," said Meaghan.