Word: beds
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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Dani's father had been forced to stay behind to care for his own bed-ridden father. Rumors swirled in the camp about NATO bombs falling on Ferizaj and Serbian troops rounding up all of its men. When he finally spoke of his father, Dani turned away as he started to cry. I tried to comfort him, but we both realized the best course was to get back to visiting the tents - and the hardships - of others. When it was time to leave the camp for the final time, I told Dani to keep studying English, and I promised...
...Rudd's public-relations people took polls and held focus groups and told him what those things appeared to be: vision and hope for the future. Former P.M. Keating thought Rudd was too poll-driven, a captive of advisors who "won't get out of bed in the morning unless they've had a focus group report to tell them which side to get out on." But the polling helped Rudd focus, relentlessly, on offering voters what they yearned for: a government as conservative as Howard's, only with a fresher face and a more inclusive smile. A government that...
...quietest time in Baghdad usually comes around midnight. Curfew falls. People across the city turn off lights and bed down, easing the load on the electricity grid enough to allow government-run power-lines to flow. Generators go silent. Fumes clear, and stars come into view in the clear night sky. On some evenings these days if you stay up late you can hear unbroken hours of hushed calm stirred only by the distant barking of dogs or the wispy echoes of a jet high overhead. Other nights, though, the crunch of bombs falling around the city begins to sound...
...high-heeled feet and nipples pert enough to hang a horseshoe on. When her hand touches Beowulf's sword, it turns to water, even as his resolve melts away at her caress. Ulysses may have resisted the sirens, but Beowulf's self-regard leads him to think he can bed Grendma and then best her. All of which leads to the illuminating observation that even a hero of legend is first and always...
...first realized I was reliving the days of my daughters' infancy--the nights of light sleep, alert to every stirring--when I began plugging my gizmo into the outlet next to the bed, so it could rest beside me, generally peaceful but pinging quietly every so often when an e-mail came in. And if I was between REM cycles and heard it, I had the choice: Do I ignore it, make it sleep through the night? Or do I find out what it's trying to tell me? When my husband and I spent a weekend away, unplugged, unpinged...