Word: jacketful
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...room at the tiny Governor's Inn to change out of his blue suit; it's the only one he has in Tallahassee, and it has started to rain. Fond of Lands' End tailoring, knit ties and cheap watches, Boies quickly returns in a gray tweed wool jacket, which, for the rest of the day, he pulls over his head to stay dry, as if an umbrella might slow him down. He feels the same way about briefcases and legal pads. As best I can tell, through 13 TV appearances, several meetings and one press conference, everything comes from memory...
...Mexican music they grew up with, the soundtrack of life in Chicano East L.A. With 86 songs, there's a lot to like here: the earliest forays into the studio with traditional material like "Guantanamera"; the rowdy guitar-driven rock 'n' roll that fits them like a favorite leather jacket; the thoughtful, melodic writing of "Will the Wolf Survive" and "One Time One Night," with which they hit their stride; the inevitable "La Bamba," complete with its traditional acoustic coda that reels it back to the real roots without being pedantic about it; the increasingly adventurous and atmospheric production...
...defending the commodification of self in a paper on dwarf tossing for Justice, nature calls. What should I do? First, I could leave my laptop in mid-sentence and run to the bathroom. Second, I could close my laptop and attempt to cover it with loose papers and my jacket. Third, I could take my laptop into the bathroom and try not to drop it. Yet, should I not have a fourth option? Should I not be able to leave my laptop open, leisurely stroll to the bathroom, use the hand dryer twice, check e-mail on the way back...
...often in Lamont. I like to spread my novels, course packs, Coke, notes and folders all over the desk. If I have to go to the bathroom or if I want to check e-mail, I should not have to worry about leaving everything as is, including my jacket and backpack. Although I do frequently leave my desk, a part of me, perhaps that part most influenced by my mom, whispers into my ear that I should not be gone too long, for one never knows who will walk...
Cambridge resident William C. Jones, 80, with his trademark tweed hat, grey jacket and well-chiseled chin, has been roaming the chambers of City Hall for the last four decades, attending City Council meetings as if it was a weekly religious duty...