Word: pinks
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...teacher--who now dresses in floral skirts, paints her nails pink and wears her hair shoulder-length--hoped to cushion the shock with her explanations. "My transformation should not be traumatic for students," she says. "But it is a tragic lesson if I am burned at the stake for who I really am." Now teachers are pitted against administrators, and children against parents. Some colleagues pooled to buy Rivers a $50 gift certificate from a dress shop, but others are "tired of the Dana Rivers Show," says art teacher Marc Allaman. Still, Allaman defends Rivers' "First Amendment right to answer...
...pens deserve a bad reputation. They tend to resemble Hello-Kitty Japan-i-junk and the ink they issue--pink, yellow, light purple--is legible only in partnership with dark paper. But now, thanks to the Stanford company--inventors of the incredible, indelible Sharpie--gel pens have found their redeemer. The uni-ball Gel Impact 1.0mm ($2.49) gushes ink like a rollerball without bleeding through the page. A blue or black fountain-like line without all the pretension or nib sucking, imagine that! The Gel Impact has sent shockwaves through the pen design community with its ultra-modern silver...
...slithered out of the Jeep and into my beaten-up tennis shoes and grabbed my gear that my father had meticulously arranged during my date the previous night. My red-and-pink shrimptail lure had been enlisted for battle with everything from speckled trout to eel-like ribbonfish. The assortment of friendly people half-submerged in the water reminded me that I was not in Boston...
Apparently, this man had unleashed its pink-and-white fury everywhere along the coast, from Matagorda to Port Aransas. Of course, he didn't have one with him. One thing that he said, to which I can attest to being true, is that a man can walk nearly a mile into the surf without the water rising above his waist if he finds just the right spot. Sometimes you just have to stop and let creation amaze...
...buses cruise past a field of beans--Bradley's farm--and pull into a lot beside the Mississippi. With the sun setting, the sky is etched with a calligraphy of pink clouds, their reflection a soft wash on the river surface. "Well, here it is," Bradley says with satisfaction. He describes boyhood rituals, times when he would "be still and listen to the wind in the cottonwood trees and watch the current carry what it had scoured from half a continent." He calls the river "a metaphor for democracy" and talks about the peace he finds here...