83 Slices
Medium 9781741795240

Coming to America

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Amanda Jones is a travel writer and photographer who lives in northern California. Her work has appeared in Travel & Leisure, Town & Country Travel, the Los Angeles Times, the London Sunday Times, Vogue and Condé Nast Traveller, among other publications. Thanks to a predilection for wandering, she has an embarrassing number of on-the-road tales of woe and misadventure. Amanda was born and raised in Auckland, New Zealand.

In 1982, at the age of twenty, I was still living at home with my parents in Auckland, New Zealand. The product of a spectacularly sheltered and conventional existence, I had graduated from university and had no plans for the future. One day, my father summoned me into his den, accused me of being ‘rudderless’, and presented me with a truly horrible suggestion. He was president of Auckland’s Rotary Club at the time, and he clearly felt the position entitled him to practise the worst kind of nepotism. ‘Rotary’, he announced, ‘is offering a scholarship for an MBA programme in America. I’ve entered your name. I feel quite sure you’ll get it. I think you can rely on the fact that you’ll be off to graduate school in a matter of months.’

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Medium 9781935362593

Quilt Show

Julia Icenogle Kansas City Star Quilts ePub

Mrs. Bobbins and pals head to the Selvage County Fair for a quilty adventure!

As the deadline approached for the Selvage County Fair, the quilt show night terrors begin to set in.

Quilt Show Panic, Stage Two: The All-Nighter

“Geraldine, when you said you would finish your quilt on the way to the show, I had assumed you’d be further along than that…”

“Hang on, everyone! My GPS just alerted me to a new quilt shop”

The ladies visit the Holy Land.

When it comes to over-buying at the factory outlet, resistance is futile.

“Why, yes, we are here for the quilt show! How did you ever guess?”

“Aren’t you glad we quilted our own name tags? We are really going to stand out!”

“I would complain, but to be honest, I think the low lighting will work to my advantage.”

Mrs. Bobbins subtly tries to influence the quilt show judges.

“Stand back, Geraldine…I’m popping the hatch and this baby’s packed tighter than a black hole.”

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Medium 9780615928272

It’s Not Cannibalism if Nobody Died

Dani Burlison Petals & Bones Press PDF


FRIEND: I am worried about postpartum depression.

ME: You should be. That shit is serious. I fantasized about killing both of my kids and myself every day after my second was born.

FRIEND: Whoa. So, will you prepare my placenta so I don’t lose my mind after the baby is born?

ME: Uh, ok.

I should be clear here. My friend was not desiring a meal and did not ask me to boil her up some polenta with gruyère, sea salt and a side of garlic-sauteed collard greens. She asked me to take her afterbirth into my kitchen and do all sorts of things to it in hopes of preventing postpartum depression. And I said yes. Not because processing her afterbirth was the best invitation I was offered at the time, but because I live in Sonoma County and that’s the kind of thing we do up here. Also, anything that keeps a lady friend from going ape shit crazy on her baby or herself is okay by me.

Now, many of us have sat patiently by while new parents share sweet tales of burying a firstborn child’s placenta under an apple tree in a backyard or driving it to a favorite wilderness destination to release it as an offering to the babyloving gods. But most stories involving the consumption of this surprisingly large, kidney-looking organ include wild animals–not humans–who suck amniotic fluid from their freshly born offspring’s pelt before gobbling down the placenta and umbilical cord for nutrition.

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Ignoring the Admiral

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Jan Morris, who is Anglo-Welsh and lives in Wales, wrote some forty books before declaring that Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere (2001) would be her last. Since then The World (2003), a retrospective collection of her work, has been published and she is now working on a long addendum to her allegorical novel Last Letters from Hav (1985), provisionally entitled Hav of the Myrmidons.

Devoted as I am to the ethos of Lonely Planet, I was never a backpacker. ‘The British Navy always travels first class’, Admiral of the Fleet Lord ‘Jacky’ Fisher used to say as he checked into yet another fashionable spa, and I was similarly conditioned during my adolescent years as an officer with the 9th Queen’s Royal Lancers of the British Army. At the end of World War II, when we were not getting messy in our dirty old tanks, we were making sure that we ate at the best restaurants and stayed at the poshest hotels.

Nowhere did we honour Lord Fisher’s axiom more loyally than in Venice, where we happily made the most of our status as members of a victorious occupying army. Many of the best hotels became our officers’ clubs, while the most expensive restaurants were pleased to accept our vastly inflated currency (which we had very likely acquired by selling cigarettes on the black market). And in particular, since all the city’s motorboats had been requisitioned by the military, we rode up and down the Grand Canal, under the Rialto Bridge, over to the Lido, like so many lucky young princes.

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A Special Kind of Fool

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Bill Fink is a freelance writer based in San Francisco. He is a regular contributor to the San Francisco Chronicle and a variety of regional and international publications. More of his true tales of stupidity can be seen at www.geocities.com/billfink2004. He is currently working on a book about his year of basketball-themed misadventures in the Philippines entitled Dunked in Manila.

According to a Japanese saying, there are two kinds of fools: those who have never climbed Mt Fuji, and those who have climbed it more than once.

I didn’t want to be either kind of fool, so I decided to climb the mountain once, and to do it right.

As a college exchange student in Japan, I had been studying the language for six months. So I was able to translate – a little – when I saw a Japanese TV segment showing jolly people climbing gentle, well-marked paths up the mountain: ‘Something-something-something Mt Fuji something-something walking something-something this spring.’

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