Sonia Frankel

Matchbox Croc Escape Pop Up Adventure Set: Mattel: N6077 Matchbox Croc Escape Pop Up Adventure this Pop-Up play set combines great drive-around action with lights and sounds and a ferocious crocodile. But beware the Croc eye glows and he roars. Moms love the snap-on assembly and stow-and-go portability. Comes with one vehicle and loads of accessories. Not for use with some Matchbox vehicles. Colors and decorations may vary. – read more.

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Well-written material allows the reader to see, hear, and feel what is happening rather than being told what happened. This show, don’t tell idea makes stories, whether fiction or non-fiction, and poetry live in the mind of the reader. News stories haven’t yet come under the umbrella of showing, but the purpose of straight news items is different. Let’s look at the difference between telling and showing through the following examples:

Telling:

The couple walked down the road until they reached a house. The man hurried around the side of the house to peek around the corner as the woman knocked on the door. When an elderly man opened the screen, the hidden man jumped onto the porch with a gun in his hand, shooting the older man in the chest.

Showing through dialogue and action:

“Jason, I don’t think we should be a doin’ this.” Marla pulled against the scraggly-haired man forcing her along the country road. “Look, we can manage some other way, can’t we?”

With a sharp curse, Jason jerked her to a stop. “We’ll do what we planned to do. You better not back out now. Don’t even be thinkin’ that way, or I’ll make you hurt real bad.”

Tears pooled in Marla’s eyes as she shuffled along the side of the dusty road. She wiped her nose on the arm of the faded sweatshirt she wore with tattered jeans. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. Jest don’t hurt me any more.”

With a rough push in her back, Jason caused her stumble a few steps before she caught her balance. “Jest get on up the drive to the house, and don’t knock on the door until I get hid.” He ran ahead of her, up the steps to the wrap-around porch, and behind the corner of the house from the door. He waved for Marla to knock on the door when she paused at the top of the steps. When she hung her head without moving, he hissed until she glanced toward him. Once he had her attention, he glared at her and shook a fist in her direction before jabbing a finger toward the door.

Marla’s shoulder rose as she took a deep breath. She stepped to the door and lightly rapped with her fist. She started to turn away when the screen creaked open. An wizened man with wisps of gray hair standing away from his head stood in the opening.

“What’s ja need?” he asked, leaning against the door jam.

Jason leaped from behind the corner of the house, a gun in his right hand. The elderly man jumped back and tried to slam the door, but he couldn’t move as rapidly as the younger man. Jason fired the gun twice. Marla stood staring at the blood squirting from the man’s narrow chest.

He doesn’t look like he could of had that much blood, she thought as she backed away, a hand at her throat.

Showing through action:

The couple moved in stops and starts down the country road. The young man with the stringy hair would pull the stumbling woman, no more than a teenager, and she would resist. They stopped, and the man shook the girl, yelling at her. The girl’s shoulder heaved, but she no longer fought him as they proceeded to a house set back from the gravel road.

The man hopped onto the wrap-around porch and hid behind the corner of the house. He motioned to the girl to knock on the door. She hesitated. He pumped his fist in her direction and pointed to the door. She lowered her head but did as directed.

When an elderly man opened the screen, the younger man leaped from behind the corner of house, a gun in his right hand. The elderly man jumped back and tried to slam the door, but the younger man was faster. He fired the gun twice. The girl stared at the blood squirting from the older man’s narrow chest.

Showing in poetry:

Anger

Black, billowing smoke, fed by blazing flames,

Twists the mid and soul like a blade

Turning within a blast furnace of molten steel

Thought becomes muddled with eruptions of agony;

Nothing is clear or positive, but all confrontational,

Filled with the desire to hurt, to maim, even kill.

The pounding of one’s heart closes his ears

To reason, to the cry of control, of restraint.

When the final explosion destroys all reason,

What is left is ashes of physical insanity,

The remains of emotional destruction,

The exhaustion felt by losing all inhibition.

Joy becomes a dim memory lost in violence.

(copyright 2006 by Vivian Gilbert Zabel)

If we, as writers, try to write as if the narrator is an observer recording the actions, behavior, and story as it unfolds before him, then we are showing, not telling.

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Critical Condition: How Health Care in America Became Big Business–and Bad Medicine review:Critical Condition – Ronald Giranio – Chicago
This analysis of the health care state in this country is complete and shocking. I thoroughly enjoyed the text, and recommend it to anyone who would like to learn about where the money is going in health care at the expense of the average patient’s health.
: Exposing the most controversial, little-known practices of America’s most flawed system, Time magazine’s Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative team pulls back the curtain on the health care industry to explain exactly how things grew so out of control.

Dirty examination and operating rooms in doctor’s offices and hospitals . . . Health care executives pulling in millions in bonuses for denying treatment to the sick . . . More than 100 million people with inadequate or no medical coverage . . . This may sound like the predicament of a third-world nation, but this is America’s health care reality today. The U.S. spends more on health care than any other nation, yet our benefits are shrinking and life expectancy is shorter here than in countries that spend significantly less per capita. Meanwhile, HMOs, pharmaceutical companies, and hospital chains reap tremendous profits, while politicians—beholden to insurers and drug companies—enact legislation for the benefit of the few rather than the many, while the entire system is on the verge of collapse.

In Critical Condition, award-winning investigative journalists Donald L. Barlett and James B. Steele expose the horror of what health care in America has become. They profile patients and doctors trapped by the system and offer startling personal stories that illuminate what’s gone wrong. Doctors tell of being second-guessed and undermined by health care insurers; nurses recount chilling tales of hospital meltdowns; patients explain how they’ve been victimized by a system that is meant to care for them. Drug companies profit by selling pills in the same manner that Madison Avenue sells soap, while Wall Street rakes in billions by building up and then tearing down health care businesses. And politicians pass legislation perpetuating the injustices and out-right fraud the system encourages.

By analyzing the industry and offering an insightful prescription for getting it back on the right track, Critical Condition is an enormously compelling investigative work that addresses the concerns of every American.
Critical Condition: How Health Care in America Became Big Business–and Bad Medicine

• Policy and Politics in Nursing and Health Care
• Sick: The Untold Story of America’s Health Care Crisis—and the People Who Pay the Price
• Health Care Meltdown: Confronting The Myths and Fixing Our Failing System
• Culture in Clinical Care
• Distant Mirrors: America as a Foreign Culture

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glass bowl set – Debra S. Long –
These were advertised as mixing bowls, but they are much to shallow to allow mixing with a hand mixer. They are great for going in the microwave. The smaller sizes are so very small that there is very little use for them. All in all, somewhat disappointing.

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Mini-skirt. The word alone used to send shivers down my spine. That’s what happens when you have a truly traumatic experience – and I did. At the young, impressionable age of 16 my mind and soul were scarred at the most unsuspecting of moments.

While still in high school, I took some college courses. I would spend half my day in high school and half at the local junior college. Though it was close to 10 years ago, this particular day is etched in my mind. It was Speech Class. I was sitting in my seat waiting for the rest of the students to arrive and for class to get started. Darlene, the most beautiful female student in the class, hands down, walked in. As usual she was dressed in the hottest, hippest of outfits. That day it happened to be a blue mini skirt, a short sleeved white blouse, a sweater, and a simple pair of flats.

She walked to a seat, one row in front of me. Then it happened. As she was placing her books on her desk, her pencils dropped to the ground! A hush fell over those in the immediate vicinity. She stared down at the pencils, frozen in terror. No one moved. No one spoke. It was as if we were all statues, unable to do anything but observe the tragedy unfolding in front of us.

The beautiful girl, the smartly dressed girl, the girl all the guys wanted and all the girls wanted to be, stood there, unable to act, incapable of performing the simplest of tasks. All the guys nearby, just waited and watched, trying to keep themselves from slobbering with anticipation. Her skirt was so mini, I didn’t see how she was going to pick up those pencils on her own. Any move to bend over or reach for the pencils would have her backside waving hello to all the onlookers.

She started to bend over, and stopped. She tried to squat down, keeping her knees together. She couldn’t do it. I could see what this moment was doing to her. Her face turned red, then began to fade to white. Sweat erupted from her brow. Her breathing became shallow and frantic. She was entering the realm of a full-on, panic attack. Her suffering was almost unbearable to watch. She kept trying different approaches, to the utter satisfaction of the hormone-driven guys in the crowd, but she could not reach her pencils without exposing herself to the crowd.

After what felt like hours to us, and an eternity to poor Darlene, a girl sitting two desks away shook herself out of the trance we were all under, and came to the rescue, grabbing the pencils from the floor and placing them on the desk. Darlene was never the same. She was always nervous, carrying the humiliation of that day. For the remainder of that semester, she was different, scared, afraid, missing the vivacious sparkle and confidence she once carried. She never wore a mini-skirt again.

Being a witness to such suffering, anguish, and pain, impacted me deeply. I couldn’t look at, or even consider wearing a mini skirt. I was convinced it would only result in agony. Then one day, many years later, two very stubborn and determined friends made me face and overcome my mini-skirt-aphobia.

My friends convinced me that Darlene could have easily avoided the pain and misery she was flooded by that day in Speech class. They showed me that miniskirts are fabulous pieces of clothing for those who have the right techniques and tools. They don’t have to be the cause of ultimate suffering if you know how to wear one.

Of course, I didn’t wear my mini-skirt out in public until I had mastered two skills – sitting down without giving a show, and picking up things (like pencils) from the ground without flashing my backside. I have come a long way since that day in Speech class. I am a mini-skirt pro now, with years of agony-free experience under my belt.

I think of poor Darlene every now and then and can’t help but pity the poor girl. Had she only treated the mini skirt with the proper respect, everything could have been so different for her. If only she would have mastered the skills of the mini-skirt before sauntering into class that day, all that trauma could have been avoided. Miniskirts are not to be taken for granted. On the hips of the inexperienced or untrained, they can be truly dangerous pieces of clothing, setting the wearer up for disaster.

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Taking a look at the past week with all its ups and mostly downs, I am still wondering what was all the fuss about? And are we going to see more of the same next week?

As we all know by past experience “Every time the Dow sneezes the ASX catches a cold, sulks and then takes a few days then to recover.

Now a interesting fact has emerged that you might not be aware of is that in the Chinese share market, which is full of domestic investors (only 47, yes 47 foreign investors are authorized to invest directly in the Chinese market),

Now how that shook the bigger, deeper and supposedly more sophisticated markets in Europe, Australia, Japan and especially the US. Is what I can not work out?

The only reason that makes any sense to me is, we know the Chinese Economy has been merrily galloping along and increasing on a yearly basis at around the 10% mark.

This has been going on for a while so just perhaps stocks have become a tad overvalued and there had to be a price correction.

I am not an economist just a poor share trader so what do I know?

But one thing that I do know is,”I Love Downturns.”

And as I have said before it is time to look out for quality stock which you can buy at bargain prices.

And that is exactly what I did. I snaffled up a few more Oxiana (OXR) actually cheaper than the first lot I had purchased which of course lowered the average price I originally paid.

This is called dollar averaging. This occurs when have bought several lots of the same stock over a period of time at different prices i.e.

1,000 shares at $1.00, 1,000 shares at $1.50, and 1000 shares at $2.00 this averages out 2,000 shares at an average price of $ 1.50 each

All you do is divide the total of the shares in this case 3,000 by the total amount you paid which is $4.50 the answer is $ 1.50

Here endeth the math’s lesson, Time to put the feet up and wonder what the market will will be doing next week.

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