83 Chapters
Medium 9781741795240

Real Cowboys Wear Polka Dots

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Judy Tierney took a year-long sabbatical from corporate America to travel through Africa, India, Southeast Asia, Australia and New Zealand. Her current work as a freelance consultant allows her the flexibility to continue to explore and write about her adventures. Her work has appeared in Backpacker magazine, the Dallas Morning News, the Denver Post, the Atlanta Journal Constitution and on www.travelerstales.com. A Texas native, she now resides in San Francisco.

‘I reckon we oughta get a move on’, Jeff said, finishing the last few bites of his three-alarm tacos – a mixture of scrambled eggs, potatoes, cheese, jalapenos and chipotle sauce wrapped in flour tortillas. Back at home in San Francisco Jeff started the day with sourdough toast and jam, but he casually wiped his eyes and nose with a napkin as if he were used to eating peppers for breakfast. He emptied his glass of water in one big gulp and then reached across the table for mine.

As we left Austin’s Magnolia Café, Jeff waved at our bighaired, blonde waitress.

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Medium 9781574411836

Do You Have a Rapture Lawyer?

Robert Flynn University of North Texas Press PDF

Do You Have a Rapture Lawyer? j

The Lord is going to return very soon, probably before the next election. If your chances of being raptured are greater than those of a pecan pie at a Baptist picnic you need a rapture lawyer. As you rise into glory, what happens to your estate?

You may think you don’t need a rapture lawyer because you have a valid will leaving everything to your wife. What if the rapture comes while you are driving your car, you disappear in the air, and your car goes smash into an X-rated video store?

Your wife is going to the poor house, and your estate is going to a pornographer and pervert.

You may think you don’t need a rapture lawyer because you have given up driving, along with other litigious liabilities, and you have a valid will leaving everything to your wife, children, and grandchildren. What happens if you raised them right, correcting your wife along the way, and they are raptured with you? You may think you will be so happy in heaven with God, the angels, your relatives—including your sainted mother who preceded you—that you won’t care what happens to your estate. Think again. The estate that you spent your life trying to protect from the government is going to be seized by Uncle

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Medium 9780615928272

Katie The Tarot Whisperer

Dani Burlison Petals & Bones Press PDF


therapy is always my first choice, but as my beloved therapist gave me her abracadabra, you’re mostly fixed seal of approval and sent me on my way almost a year ago, some dabbling in the ether from time to time helps me get through the indecision I am often gripped by.

And ether, I did enter.

My intent for this past year was to repair some of my faulty inner wiring, to try new things, to have my perspective shift so radically that rainbows would shoot out of unicorn heads and disintegrated the dark clouds that regularly hover in the periphery–if not directly over–my life. I wanted a glimpse at the mysteries of what drives us to slip out of bed and face each day. I wanted to know why I am here. I wanted to know how to make this life better.

Like a New Age Magnum P.I., I sought answers. My experiences weren’t exactly the stuff of A Fortune Teller Told Me or Eat, Pray, Have Sex with a Hot Brazilian in Bali. I don’t have that kind of world travel in my budget just yet. Instead,

I climbed to an old grove of oaks with David J of Bauhaus one afternoon and asked him all about spirits and God and what can be found in our hearts. I spent a weekend as an apprentice to a 1960’s LSD guru and psychotherapist, exploring my shadow side and discussing the ways in which to come to terms with all that is dark and murky inside of me. I consulted a medicine woman in regards to pains in my chest and she worked her magic, rattling and chanting the spirit of my wounded, dead ex right out of my psychic space. I sent scanned photos of my hands to a palm reader in Australia and read the two-page report over and over and over again, memorizing the clues. I drank enough kombucha to rebalance the friendly flora of an entire village to see if I could

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Medium 9781741795240

The Boat From Battambang

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Christopher R Cox is a feature reporter on the staff of the Boston Herald. He has survived Cambodia’s transport system on six trips for his newspaper and such magazines as Men’s Journal, Travel & Leisure and Reader’s Digest. He is the author of the adventure travel book Chasing the Dragon: Into the Heart of the Golden Triangle, about Burma’s narco-warlords, and can order cold beer in more than half a dozen languages. When not experiencing Third World gastro-intestinal distress, Christopher lives in Acton, Massachusetts.

The route from Battambang to Siem Reap makes a long sweep around the western shoreline of the Tonlé Sap, Southeast Asia’s largest lake, via kidney-rattling roads crowded with death-wish buses, overloaded lorries and plodding ox carts. In Cambodia, it’s an immutable fact that travel is 90 per cent perspiration and 10 per cent sheer terror. So it seemed a miracle when the Angkor Express Boat Company promised to whisk me from Battambang down the Sangke River and across the Tonlé Sap to Angkor’s doorstep in just five hours – half the time I’d spend on a sweltering, crowded bus fretting about an impending head-on collision.

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Medium 9781741795240

Let the Buyer Beware

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Staying true to the flightless kiwi of his native New Zealand, Edwin Tucker rode his bicycle 36,000 kilometres across twenty-two countries. Now living in Canada, he is writing the account of his two-and-a-half-year journey, and is still dreaming of the open road.

The harsh open vastness of the Tibetan steppe is largely devoid of life; even oxygen is scarce. The sun blazes as if I have climbed closer to it than my present four kilometres above sea level. Below me, a grey ribbon of gravel, the unpaved road, lies across the yawning desert plains of southwest Tibet. Even without the effects of altitude, the scenery around me is breathtaking. The richly coloured ochre and graphite outcrops of the Himalayas shore up a navy-blue sky as if a deep sea has been turned into the heavens.

Spring is usually associated with the colour green, but not here. Not where the altitude and cold have squeezed the water out of the air to a humidity level of 10 per cent – twice as dry as the Sahara. There is nothing green here in April: no trees, no bushes. Wispy yellow straws of grass are the only vegetation.

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