Marsha > Recent Status Updates

"Oh, Betty!" cried Rosalyn. She waved her wrist with its heavy gold-and-emerald bracelet. "What do you think?" "Beautiful." "Not too much? I don't want to look gaudy. The economy is so bad, it could be offensive." "They're cabochon, that tones it down." "I'm a limousine liberal," Lou said. "Why not be comfortable?" "You were always an iconoclast, dear," said Rosalyn, patting his arm indulgently.

When she got home and heard what had happened, Annie was tempted to deliver a lecture. She had, after all, warned Miranda not to take the kayak out until she had taken lessons, and just last night she had pointed out that the Sound had been unusually rough lately. "Small craft warnings," she had said. "And your craft is minute. But looking at Miranda now, so fragile and vulnerable, Annie could not bear to say a word.

Frederick Barrow was what Miranda could only call a pleasant-looking man--not, therefore, her type. He had a puckish, friendly face and his hair was thinning, not a distinguished receding hairline like Josie's, just thin, combed back and a bit too artistically long. Miranda was sorry on that score and disappointed for Annie. But, as she loyally pointed out to her mother, what hair he had was silver.

Kishan mused thoughtfully, "The Phoenix said this was the Cave of Sleep and Death." "I'll have to thank him for his literal translation," I remarked. We skirted another woman who was reaching toward us with an almost motherly expression on what was left of her face. As we moved past, she lowered her arms and her long hair covered her ghostly countenance. "I'm not afraid of them anymore. I think they could be us."

"Kishan? Do you think he's...he's dead?" "I don't know. Lokesh has lived a long time." "I hope he's dead." Kishan studied me thoughtfully. "I hope so too, Kells."

"What was that noise you just made" I asked. Ren switched to a man. I handed him a plate as he answered for Kishan. "It's called chuffing. It's a tiger hello." Kishan grunted. "Is that what it's called? Now I know what all those lady tigers were saying." Ren grinned. "So...you and lady tigers, eh? Is there something you want to share, Kishan?"

He knew what I was asking. I was asking Kishan if he would knowingly let his brother die to secure the life he wanted to have. It would be easy for him to step in and fill Ren's shoes if Ren wasn't around any longer. I was asking him if that's the kind of man he was. Kishan studied me thoughtfully and then said, "I promise you, Kelsey, that I will protect him with my life, until the end of my days."

Li and I began to see each other outside of game night and in class. He was a gentleman and our dates were always fun and interesting. Despite having all this attention, I felt lonely. It wasn't the kind of loneliness I could cure by being around other people. My soul felt lonely. Nighttime was the hardest because I felt him, even an ocean away. An invisible tether was wrapped tightly around my heart, connecting us.

"Kelsey, I have one final request of you before we head up." "And what would that be? Want to talk about tiger senses or monkey bites in strange places maybe?" "No. I want you to kiss me." I sputtered, "What? Kiss you? What for? Don't you think you got to kiss me enough on this trip?"

"Did you tell Mr. Kadam that we would be a bit longer?" "Yes, I explained the situation to him. I'm taking you with me. I would leave you here, but Ren insists that you get into trouble if left alone." He touched my nose. "Is that true, bilauta? I can't imagine an endearing young woman such as you getting into trouble." "I don't get into trouble. Trouble finds me."

"He's a tiger for most of the time, and for him to be strong enough to protect you on this journey, he'll have to eat more. Something big, like a nice boar or a water buffalo." I gulped. "Are you sure?" "Yes. He's very thin for a tiger. He needs to bulk up. Get some protein." I stroked Ren's back. I could feel his ribs. "Okay, I'll make sure he hunts before we leave."

"You'll have to drive us to Mumbai and to the park since I'll be in tiger form. I know you don't like the traffic here. I'm sorry that you're burdened with this." I muttered, "Not liking the traffic is an understatement. People don't know how to drive here. They're crazy."

He held the stem of a plant and pulled downward with his fingers until he had stripped off all of the leaves. He handed me a branch with tiny leaves, which looked like a type of rosemary. I plucked off the fragrant green leaves and piled them up on the table. We worked companionably together for a while.

Mr. Kadam looked at me thoughtfully. "A white tiger is a very special kind of tiger. It is immitigably drawn to a person, a woman, who has a powerful sense of self-conviction. This woman will possess great inner strength, will have the insight to discern good from evil, and will have the power to overcome many obstacles. She who is called to walk with tigers--" I fell asleep.

Despite feeling happy for my tiger, I also felt gloomy knowing I'd miss visitingi and talkingi to him. The rest of that day, I kept busy to keep my mind off of it. Matt and I worked all afternoon, and I didn't have time to see Ren again until after dinner.

MY LAWYER has argued, "The apportionment law penalizes rape victims for cooperating with law enforcement to apprehend and convict the rapist...By permitting these owners to argue that the criminal is responsible defeats society's interest in requiring the owners to take responsibility for protecting people in their facilities from foreseeable criminal attack."

Agent Simmons provided exemplary attendant service for nearly an hour in the Broadway McDonald's. Almost everyone he encountered enthusiastically used his services and many patrons were kind enough to leave a tip. "Even though I made nearly $7 in tips that day the pressure was really not on me to earn," Agent Simmons said. "It was all about not getting thrown out before we'd accomplished our goals."

New Cheerios/In the fall of 2001, Aent Richard Lovejoy and I set up a table in Central park claiming to be representatives from GM conducting a taste test. We wanted to see if people preferred regular Cheerios or our latest product, New Cheerios. What the taste testers didn't realize was both samples were exactly the same. Still, more people preferred the taste of the "new."

Our easygoing father had mellowed to the point of inertia. Occasionally, he'd rouse himself just long enough to realize that he should be taking more demonstrable interest in our lives. "So, Susie," he'd say awkwardly. "How's that party planning of yours going?" "What party?" I'd say. "Weren't you planning a party with champagne and ice cream that boys could only come to in drag?" "Dad, that was seven years ago."

"Whoa. You're coming down? When?" he shouted. The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated" was blasting insanely in the background. "After my last midterm," I shouted back. "But I won't get to your place until, like, 3:00 A.M. tomorrow. Is that cool with you?" There was a pause. "Only if you don't wear any panties," he yelled. And so, now, I wasn't.

My friend Kenny lost his virginity to his mother's mah-jongg instructor on a felt-covered mahogany table in the middle of his living room. "My mother and her friends were in the kitchen having coffee. I'd just come home from bar mitzvah class. The instructor took one look at me, ripped off my yarmulke, and jumped me on top of the mah-jongg tiles," Kenny said."What could I do?" Kenny shrugged. "She needed me. Bad."

But how weren't we supposed to see another person's skin? As kids, we noticed everything. We knew that only Tabitha Cohen could roll her eyes back and fake a truly convincing epileptic seizure. Gregory Dupree was double-jointed and could dislocate his own thumb. Ricardo had a scar from his wrist to his elbow from the time he ran through a plate glass window. Chieko ate strange and frightening seaweed for lunch.

But there is a chance to save him. And the only one here who has any hope of doing so is you. If you don't use that special power of yours now, when it's most needed, then when?

Samuel decided to err on the side of discretion. There was not a great deal that Stephanie could do to him, although he sometimes wondered what she might have done if she thought that she could get away with it, like burying him in the back garden after drowning him in the bathtub. Stephanie was a tattle tale and when Samuel had crossed her in the past he had found himself dealing with his mother.

It had been raining for three days and all I wanted to do was curl up in some cozy corner and have eveyone leave me alone. I didn't want drama, excuses, guilt, or responsibility. I just wanted to drink hot chocolate and get lost in the pages of a good book. But every time I tucked myself away in a discreet corner, I was inundated by people trying to steer clear of me. Irony sucks.

"But what will you do, Eliza? Elizabeth replied that she would go to teach children: "I am good with children, I earnestly believe, even if I am barren--" "Oh, do not say that, Lizzy!"

"What of Mama?" enquired Jane, as she lifted the sleeping baby into her arms. "Will she permit this?" "Mrs Bennet is engaged in preparations for the New Year's Ball," said Chrales, smiling; "and she has asked Mr Darcy that Colonel Kitchiner should come to pemberley for that; permission which has kindly been given." "So all is well," said Jane, smiling up at her husband.

Elizabeth received the news at Pemberley that Mrs Bennet had begged Jane and her family to join them for Christmas with extreme despondency. Mrs Bennet would talk at her daughters without cease; Kitty and Mary would be urged to find young men, which would alarm and annoy Mr Darcy, so Elizabeth could imagine, and the harmony of their days at Pemberley would be badly disrupted.

Though first introduced in Henry VI, Part Two, Richard only becomes a central character here in Part Three. At the outset, England has collapsed into a blood-soaked battlefield where loyalty, honor, and family ties are sacrificed in lethal battles for control of the kingdom. In a society already plagued by unscrupulous power struggles, Richard's amoral behavior and pursuit of the crown seems par for the course.

Shakespeare never achieved the same fame for his performances as he did for his plays. But despite becoming the greatest dramatist of the age, Shakespeare would never have become rich from his own writing. Companies paid about two pounds per script, after which they owned the play outright. More than half of Shakespeare's plays didn't appear in print form until many years after he died.