Word: crisps
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...exactly two weeks left, I suppose I should get ready for the last and most dreadful stage of this strange condition—the complete breakdown in personal maintenance. It’ll start, I guess, with my not having time for the frilly stuff like make-up and crisp new outfits that anyone could do without anyway. Next we switch to low maintenance outfits only: jeans and big sweaters first, then sweats and house slippers. And then the hair will look a little rattier and the sweats a little more worn in. I’ll report back...
...Thai government cut off aid to the village in 1994, and its inhabitants now survive through tourism and farming. The crisp mountain climate is ideal for growing choice-grade oolong tea, and dozens of Chinese teahouses along the main road serve it up sweet and steaming. There are also strawberry, pear and corn plantations, not to mention a thriving industry in illicit firewater distilled from local fruit and grains...
...Full of crisp, witty, His Girl Friday exchanges, we follow greenhorn gumshoe Richard Field, newly arrived in Shanghai from Yorkshire. His first assignment takes him to the scene of the above described sadistic murder of Lena Orlov, a down-and-out Russian princess who?like so many others in the city?had resorted to selling her only remaining commodity: herself. Field must find out why the fattest cats in town care about the brutal stabbing of this high-class whore...
...more than 3,000 victims of the Sept. 11 attacks are frozen in snapshots, wide-smiling men and women in crisp suits and uniforms who liked to build birdhouses on weekends and play practical jokes. In the literature of grief, they have become hardworking innocents, heroes and saints. But those they left behind are decidedly human. Some compete with others for most bereaved status; others demand an apology even when no one is listening. Some are popping pills, and others cannot leave the house. Most days, they are inconsolable. And as the rest of the country begins to ease back...
...taking the crisp morning air in St. Moritz, high in the Swiss Alps, preparing for another day of arduous sportswriting labor--the World Bobsleigh Championships, I believe. Let's see: start with a hot chocolate, a brisk ski across the lake, maybe lunch at the Palace and then...