Word: lapping
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...Caley's wilderness is not as remote as it once was. Sydney's suburbs lap at the range's feet, and at night the sound of trucks several kilometers away drift faintly into tents. On one ridgetop a mobile phone rings. But these are small intrusions into a stern wilderness. There are few walkers out here, and standing on one of the many ridges, the view in every direction is of implacable bush. There are still unexplored gullies out there; in one such nook, north of Caley's route, the Wollemi pine, which Wyn Jones helped identify, made international headlines...
...back seat, until we reached country where the flat loamy soil was carpeted in soybeans and corn. Although I am blue-state born and bred, Ohio felt like home, and our trips like homecomings. I snapped beans from my grandparents’ garden into a bowl in my lap so we could eat them for dinner. My grandfather took my brother and me for rides on his tractor. I learned to pitch horseshoes. On the first Sunday in August, there was always a reunion of my grandmother’s family, when you could look up from your great aunt?...
...camera stumbles upon a door, it bursts open, the hand of the dying woman drops, a guttural boom blasts from the sub, and that four-dollar bucket of flat Diet Coke resting patiently at your side becomes fizzy and fresh on your lap as you jump—hard. It’s these moments—when some random horrific element comes from nowhere—that make the first act of The Grudge, Hollywood’s latest attempt at remaking a foreign blockbuster, extremely enjoyable. Yet tension gives way to torpor as the first act crawls...
...tuition via jobs and financial aid), ordered Toscanini’s unique and scrumptious Hot Vanillas—not the “five or six” misreported. And regarding our hasty departure, we exited not in fear of snide remarks from pampered Hahvahdians who live in the lap of luxury in Cambridge. Instead, we were bound to our “Huggy Buggy” schedule. Following many, long days of campaigning in places near and far for America’s undeniably, decisive Republican victors, we had to return to Wellesley and our studies that will eventually...
...camera stumbles upon a door, it bursts open, the hand of the dying woman drops, a guttural boom blasts from the sub, and that four-dollar bucket of flat Diet Coke resting patiently at your side becomes fizzy and fresh on your lap as you jump—hard. It’s these moments—when some random horrific element comes from nowhere—that make the first act of The Grudge, Hollywood’s latest attempt at remaking a foreign blockbuster, extremely enjoyable. Yet tension gives way to torpor as the first act crawls...