Life Notify Quotes

I just ordered a Life Alert bracelet, so if I get a life, I’ll be notified immediately. —BUMPER STICKER I

Next, the secretary advised me to take a seat while she notified the headmaster of my arrival. During those dreadful moments I did everything I could to remain calm. Nervously, I kept patting my foot to the floor and heard each and every tap. Suddenly, shouts of extreme havoc rung out just like the other times! “Oh God no! Jesus, please help me Lawd! I got you, Sir, I got you,” were screams filling the airwaves. The door opened and a battered female raced rightpast me with her hands covering her face. She kept mumbling phrases that shouldn’t be repeated by innocent lips. I couldn’t believe those disgusting words coming out of her baby-sized mouth. Then damn, another nightmare was possibly moments away. I needed an out and fast. Fearing for my life, I formulated my plan of action. Right before Principal Shellshock steadies his paddle, I was going to blow out all the gas I reserved in my little butt. I was never a fan of the fart game, but I was scheming like a veteran. That’s all I had, and it was my “A game.” My intentions were to rip a good hard one that opens my belt, ruffles my pants, and sends my new shoes flyingacross the room. Then all options would be left to the principal. He could chance tearing into me and losing a lung or take cover and let me go. Punishing me will become a hazard to his health. For the moment, I felt really good about that notion. I didn’t have much else to cling to, but I was dangerously packing breakfast from Aunt Kathy. Yes, I was sure my stink bomb defense would win that day. According to past reports, I would be the first and only kid at Mitchell Memorial to get on the scoreboard against the headmaster. Make that, Hal “1” and Principal Shell Shock “0.

Several years ago, researchers at the University of Minnesota identified 568 men and women over the age of seventy who were living independently but were at high risk of becoming disabled because of chronic health problems, recent illness, or cognitive changes. With their permission, the researchers randomly assigned half of them to see a team of geriatric nurses and doctors—a team dedicated to the art and science of managing old age. The others were asked to see their usual physician, who was notified of their high-risk status. Within eighteen months, 10 percent of the patients in both groups had died. But the patients who had seen a geriatrics team were a quarter less likely to become disabled and half as likely to develop depression. They were 40 percent less likely to require home health services. These were stunning results. If scientists came up with a device—call it an automatic defrailer—that wouldn’t extend your life but would slash the likelihood you’d end up in a nursing home or miserable with depression, we’d be clamoring for it. We wouldn’t care if doctors had to open up your chest and plug the thing into your heart. We’d have pink-ribbon campaigns to get one for every person over seventy-five. Congress would be holding hearings demanding to know why forty-year-olds couldn’t get them installed. Medical students would be jockeying to become defrailulation specialists, and Wall Street would be bidding up company stock prices. Instead, it was just geriatrics. The geriatric teams weren’t doing lung biopsies or back surgery or insertion of automatic defrailers. What they did was to simplify medications. They saw that arthritis was controlled. They made sure toenails were trimmed and meals were square. They looked for worrisome signs of isolation and had a social worker check that the patient’s home was safe. How do we reward this kind of work? Chad Boult, the geriatrician who was the lead investigator of the University of Minnesota study, can tell you. A few months after he published the results, demonstrating how much better people’s lives were with specialized geriatric care, the university closed the division of geriatrics.

I just ordered a Life Alert bracelet, so if I get a life, I’ll be notified immediately. —BUMPER STICKER

to shriek and to slam the door shut repeatedly—with a deafening clang each time—until the keeper, notified by a visitor, hurried over to remedy the situation. A herd of roe-deer in a European zoo stepped out of their corral when the gate was left open. Frightened by visitors, the deer bolted for the nearby forest, which had its own herd of wild roe-deer and could support more. Nonetheless,

a young black man who had notified his draft board he could not in conscience cooperate with the draft because he was repelled by the violence of the Vietnam war. He received a five-year sentence. Gaylin writes: “Hank’s was the first five-year sentence I had encountered. He was also the first black man.” There were additional factors: “How was your hair then?” I asked. “Afro.” “And what were you wearing?” “A dashiki.” “Don’t you think that might have affected your sentence?” “Of course.” “Was it worth a year or two of your life?” I asked. “That’s all of my life,” he said, looking at me with a combination of dismay and confusion. “Man, don’t you know! That’s what it’s all about! Am I free to have my style, am I free to have my hair, am I free to have my skin?” “Of course,” I said. “You’re right.

You knew she was sick,” her mother said. She was trying to comfort her or maybe just alleviate her shock. “I know,” Jude said. “Still.” “It wasn’t painful. She was smilin and talkin to me, right up until the end.” “Are you all right, Mama?” “Oh, you know me.” “That’s why I’m asking.” Her mother laughed a little. “I’m fine,” she said. “Anyway, the service is Friday. I just wanted to let you know. I know you’re busy with school—” “Friday?” Jude said. “I’ll fly down—” “Hold on. No use in you comin all the way down here—” “My grandmother is dead,” Jude said. “I’m coming home.” Her mother didn’t try to dissuade her further. Jude was grateful for that. She’d already acted as if notifying her of her grandmother’s passing had been some inconvenience. What type of life did her mother think she was living that she couldn’t interrupt with that type of news? They hung up and Jude stepped out into the hallway. Students buzzed past. A friend from the biology department waved his coffee at her as he ducked into the lounge. A weedy orange-haired girl tacked a green poster for a protest onto the announcement board. That was the thing about death. Only the specifics of it hurt. Death, in a general sense, was background noise. She stood in the silence of it.

The Great Questions of Life were things he didn’t much think about. For the most part, life in the Soviet Union was limited to yesterday, today, and tomorrow. The economic facts of life really didn’t allow a person to make long-term plans. There were no country houses to buy, no luxury cars to desire, no elaborate vacations to save for. In committing what it called socialism on the people, the government of his country allowed—forced—everyone to aspire to much the same things, regardless of individual tastes, which meant getting on an endless list and being notified when one’s name came up—and being unknowingly bumped by those with greater Party seniority—or not, because some people had access to better places.

Restraining orders” separating fathers and children (often for life) are routinely issued during divorce proceedings without any evidence of legal wrongdoing, often without notifying the father to be present to defend himself or without any hearing at all. These orders do not punish criminals for illegal acts they are proven to have committed but prohibit law-abiding citizens from otherwise legal acts—like being in their own homes or with their own children. With the stroke of a pen, judges can simply legislate new crimes around each individual, who will then be arrested for doing what no statute prohibits and what the rest of us may do without penalty. “Once the restraining order is in place, a vast range of ordinarily legal behavior”—most often contact with one’s own children—is “criminalized.” Because violent assault and other statutory crimes are already punishable, the only people punished are peaceful, law-abiding citizens.

From: “Chris Kyle” Date: December 25, 2010 at 12:55:57 AM EST I appreciate your upbringing and your respect. My dad would have kicked my ass if I didn’t call everyone sir or Mr. until they notified me otherwise. So I am telling you, my name is Chris. Please no more sir bullshit. I went to college right out of high school, but did not finish. Sometimes I regret that. Now that I am out, I could really use the degree. Even if you think you will retire from the service, like I did, there is life after the military. I joined at 24 years old. I had some mental maturity over my teammates due to joining later. I also got to enjoy my youth. One thing about being a SEAL, you age fast. I was only in for eleven years, but I spent over half that time in a combat zone. Unlike other combat units, SEALs in a combat zone are operating. That means getting shot at on a daily basis. I had a baby face when I joined, and within two years, I looked as if I had aged 10 years. I am not in any way talking you out of joining. I loved my time, and if I hadn’t gotten married and had two kids, I would still be in. Unforeseen events will come at you in life. Your plants today will not be the same in four years. I am just trying to prep you for what is to come. I sit in an office or train other people on a range all day, every day. I would much rather be in Afghanistan being shot at again. I love the job and still miss it today. There is no better friendship than what the teams will offer. Once you become a SEAL, you will change. Your friends and family may think you are the same, but if they are really honest, they will see the difference. You will no longer have that innocence that you have now. Sometimes I even miss that person I used to be, but do not regret in any way who I have become. You will be much harder emotionally than you have ever imagined. The day to day bullshit that stresses people out now, fades away. You realize, once you have faced death and accepted it, that the meaningless bullshit in day to day life is worthless. I know this was a long answer to an easy question, but I just wanted to be completely honest. Take your time and enjoy your youth. The SEALs are one of the greatest things that have ever happened to me, but once you are in, you will no longer be the same. Chris Kyle

If you have a problem with someone or you feel violated or you're not happy with their service or whatever the other person is doing. In life there are levels of escalations to solve any problem or the sort out the differences. Choose to know this life levels of escalation. LIFE LEVELS OF ESCALATION 1. Choose to speak to the person. Notifying them of their doing, and to confirm if they know and understand what they are doing. Ask them about their actions. 2. Choose to tell them, on how you feel or what they are doing or not doing makes you feel. 3. If the person persist. Choose to call on, other people that are close to him /her to assist. Like his parents, family members , elderly people or friends. 4. If they persist and whatever they are doing is wrong. Choose to report them to the authority. 5. If they persist, then you can choose to report them to social media. Whenever you report someone. Ask yourself this questions . You report them, because you want the person to stop what they doing and seek some help or you report them, because you want to expose them, to hurt them, to get them into trouble and for them to pay for what they did?

We were here And our memories are as dear to us as every slow motion moment or held breath So remember every instance before death Every first kiss, first dance, near miss, last chance, yes, no, maybe so Let us go the distance once more Let us remember all the moments that were and were not Like the point is something we can get and what we can get is what we got Because all we have are the times between the moments we connect each dot So live and remember Burn like an ember capable of starting fires Like each moment inspires the next Like memories are the context we put ourselves in So that life becomes the next of kin we need to notify in case of a big bang or Extinction level event Let now be our advent Let us live like we meant it Let us burn like we mean it Because this world doesn't give a shit if we end in a train wreck or a car crash If our story ends with a dot or dash If we were dust or ash Because all we were is all we’ll be And all we are is the in-between of so far, so good So forget every would, could, or should not Forget remembering how we forgot Live like a plot twist exists now and in memory Because we burn bright Our light leaves scars on the sun Let no one say we will be undone by time's passing The memories we are amassing will stand as testament That somehow we bent minds around the concept That we see others within ourselves That self-knowledge can't be found on bookshelves So who we are has no bearing on how we appear Look directly into every mirror Realize our reflection is the first sentence to a story And our story starts: "We were here."

Pokémon with a blue glow surrounding it in your menu simply indicates that you have caught this Pokémon in the last 24 hours. If you tap on a Pokémon, you can check its name, HP below the Pokémon, CP above the Pokémon, various traits, different attacks and the location and date you caught this particular Pokémon. You can rename your Pokémon by tapping the pencil next to its name.   You may also want to give your Pokémon a power up to boost its maximum health and CP, and thus making your Pokémon more powerful. This will cost you Stardust and Pokémon candy. If you wish to get rid of a Pokémon, you will want to tap the “Transfer” button in order to transfer your Pokémon to the Professor. Note that once you transfer a Pokémon to the Professor, this Pokémon will be lost forever and cannot be retrieved.   The last category features your items. In your items you will find all the items with their quantities you currently own. Pressing the trash allows you to toss an item if you wish to do so. Your maximum capacity is 350 items, but you can buy an upgrade in the Shop if you wish to expand your capacity.   An additional feature of the main menu is the Settings panel, which you will find in the upper right of your screen. If you open up the Settings, you can toggle the Music, Sound Effects, Vibration and Battery Saver. You may also revisit Professor Willow if you missed any of his speeches using the Quick Start option. Another feature is being able to sign out. This could be useful in case you wish to log in via another account. You can check the version of the application in the Settings too.   Toggling the Battery Save option will allow you to enter the Battery Save state. To enter this state simply tick the box and hold your device upside down. Your device will enter a battery saving state, indicated by a dark screen featuring the Pokémon Go logo, until held in its authentic state again. This feature is especially useful when your device is below 5% of its battery life. To utilize the remaining battery life to the fullest extent, simply hold your device upside down and put your device where it’s most comfortable for you. Mind that you may want to have your device in a position where you can still notice vibration, because whenever a Pokémon approaches you, your device will notify you through vibration, if you’ve enabled vibration in the Settings. Whenever your device vibrates, you can turn around your device with ease to continue playing without having to unlock your device. Note that you will not be notified when passing a gym or PokéStop.   The

At one in the morning on the 20th. November, radio hams over most of Europe suffered serious interference to their reception, as if a new and exceptionally strong broadcaster was operating. They located the interference at two hundred and three metres; it sounded something like the noise of machinery or rushing water; then the continuous, unchanging noise was suddenly interrupted by a horrible, rasping noise (everyone described it in the same way: a hollow, nasal, almost synthetic sounding voice, made all the more so by the electronic apparatus); and this frog-like voice called excitedly, "Hello, hello, hello! Chief Salamander speaking. Hello, chief Salamander speaking. Stop all broadcasting, you men! Stop your broadcasting! Hello, Chief Salamander speaking!" And then another, strangely hollow voice asked: "Ready?" "Ready." There was a click as if the broadcast were being transferred to another speaker; and then another, unnaturally staccato voice called: "Attention! Attention! Attention!" "Hello!" "Now!" A voice was heard in the quiet of the night; it was rasping and tired-sounding but still had the air of authority. "Hello you people! This is Louisiana. This is Kiangsu. This is Senegambia. We regret the loss of human life. We have no wish to cause you unnecessary harm. We wish only that you evacuate those areas of coast which we will notify you of in advance. If you do as we say you will avoid anything regrettable. In future we will give you at least fourteen days notice of the places where we wish to extend our sea. Incidents so far have been no more than technical experiments. Your explosives have proved their worth. Thank you for them. "Hello you people! Remain calm. We wish you no harm. We merely need more water, more coastline, more shallows in which to live. There are too many of us. Your coastlines are already too limited for our needs. For this reason we need to demolish your continents. We will convert them into bays and islands. In this way, the length of coastline can be increased five-fold. We will construct new shallows. We cannot live in deep ocean. We will need your continents as materials to fill in the deep waters. We wish you no harm, but there are too many of us. You will be free to migrate inland. You will not be prevented from fleeing to the hills. The hills will be the last to be demolished. "We are here because you wanted us. You have distributed us over the entire world. Now you have us. We wish that you collaborate with us. You will provide us with steel for our picks and drills. you will provide us with explosives. You will provide us with torpedoes. You will work for us. Without you we will not be able to remove the old continents. Hello you people, Chief Salamander, in the name of all newts everywhere, offers collaboration with you. You will collaborate with us in the demolition of your world. Thank you." The tired, rasping voice became silent, and all that was heard was the constant noise resembling machinery or the sea. "Hello, hello, you people," the grating voice began again, "we will now entertain you with music from your gramophone records. Here, for your pleasure, is the March of the Tritons from the film, Poseidon.

Pearsall also describes an eight-year-old girl who received the heart of a murdered child. After the transplant, the girl started having nightmares about the man who had killed her donor. Her mother then took her to a therapist. Details she reported in therapy sessions were so precise—time, weapon, the murderer’s clothes, crime scene—that they notified the police. Astonishingly, the girl’s information led police to the murderer.

and many tough life choices, Gwen must decide who or what she will become. Fleet Cadet or Civilian? Friend or lover? Average or extraordinary? Can she make new friends? Can she trust the old ones, such as Logan Sangre, her sexy high school crush and an Earth special operative? Time and time again, Gwen’s uncanny ability to come up with the best answer in a crisis saves her life and others. And now, her unique Logos voice makes her an extremely valuable commodity to the Atlanteans—so much so that her enigmatic commanding officer Aeson Kassiopei, who is also the Imperial Prince of Atlantis, has taken an increasingly personal interest in her. Before the end of the journey, Gwen must convince him that she has what it takes to compete in the deadly Games of the Atlantis Grail. It’s becoming apparent—the life of her family and all of Earth depends on it. COMPETE is the second book in The Atlantis Grail series. Don’t miss another book by Vera Nazarian! Subscribe to the mailing list to be notified when the next books by Vera Nazarian are available. We promise not to spam you or chit-chat, only make occasional book release announcements.

It seems no one is guaranteed a job anywhere anymore. These are troubled times for workers. The creeping sense that no one’s job is safe, even as the companies they work for are thriving, means the spread of fear, apprehension, and confusion. One sign of this growing unease: An American headhunting firm reported that more than half of callers making inquiries about jobs were still employed—but were so fearful of losing those jobs that they had already started to look for another.5 The day that AT&T began notifying the first of forty thousand workers to be laid off—in a year when its profits were a record $4.7 billion—a poll reported that a third of Americans feared that someone in their household would soon lose a job. Such fears persist at a time when the American economy is creating more jobs than it is losing. The churning of jobs—what economists euphemistically call “labor market flexibility”—is now a troubling fact of work life. And it is part of a global tidal wave sweeping through all the leading economies of the developed world, whether in Europe, Asia, or the Americas. Prosperity is no guarantee of jobs; layoffs continue even amidst a booming economy. This paradox, as Paul Krugman, an MIT economist, puts it, is “the unfortunate price we have to pay for having as dynamic an economy as we do.”6 There is now a palpable bleakness about the new landscape of work. “We work in what amounts to a quiet war zone” is the way one midlevel executive at a multinational firm put it to me. “There’s no way to give your loyalty to a company and expect it to be returned anymore. So each person is becoming their own little shop within the company—you have to be able to be part of a team, but also ready to move on and be self-sufficient.” For many older workers—children of the meritocracy, who were taught that education and technical skills were a permanent ticket to success—this new way of thinking may come as a shock. People are beginning to realize that success takes more than intellectual excellence or technical prowess, and that we need another sort of skill just to survive—and certainly to thrive—in the increasingly turbulent job market of the future. Internal qualities such as resilience, initiative, optimism, and adaptability are taking on a new valuation. A

Here are some other items you can include on your Project Completion Checklist. I encourage you to personalize it for your own needs: Answer postmortem questions: What did you learn? What did you do well? What could you have done better? What can you improve for next time? Communicate with stakeholders: Notify your manager, colleagues, clients, customers, shareholders, contractors, etc., that the project is complete and what the outcomes were. Evaluate success criteria: Were the objectives of the project achieved? Why or why not? What was the return on investment? Officially close out the project and celebrate: Send any last emails, invoices, receipts, feedback forms, or documents, and celebrate your accomplishments with your team or collaborators so you receive the feeling of fulfillment for all the effort you put in.

The first moment of realization was giving way to a second, and third, and each new minute revealed some facet that Gansey had not yet let himself consider. There would be no waking of Glendower, so there was no favor. Noah's life would not be begged for, the demon would not be bargained away. There may have never been magic involved with Glendower; his corpse may have been brought to the New World only to be buried out of reach of the English; it was possible that Gansey needed to notify the historian community of this find, if it was even findable by normal means. If Glendower had always been dead, it could not have been him who spared Gansey. If Glendower had not saved Gansey's life, he did not know who to thank, or who to be, or how to live.

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect works of art. They had in their collection works ranging from Picasso to Raphael and Rembrandt. When the Vietnam War broke out, the son was drafted and sent to fight in ’Nam. He was very courageous and died in battle. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son. About a month later, a young lad appeared at the door to his house and said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life that fateful day. He was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart. He died instantly. He used to often talk about you and your love for art. Here’s something for you,” he added, holding out a package. “It is something that I drew. I know I am not much of an artist, but I wanted you to have this from me as a small measure of memory and thanks.” It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. It captured the personality of his son. The father’s eyes welled up with tears as he thanked the young man for the painting. He offered to pay for the picture, but the man replied, “Oh! No, sir. I could never repay what your son did for me. It is my gift to you.” The father hung the portrait over his mantel and showed it proudly to all his visitors along with all of the great works of art he possessed. Some time later, the old man died. As decreed in his will, his paintings were all to be auctioned. Many influential and rich people gathered together, excited over the prospect of owning one of the masterpieces. On a platform nearby also sat the painting of his son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. “Let’s start the bidding with the picture of his son. Who will bid for this picture?” There was silence. A voice shouted from the back, “Let’s skip this one. We want the famous masters.” But the auctioneer persisted. “Ten dollars, twenty dollars, what do I hear?” Another voice came back angrily, “We didn’t come here for this. Let’s have the Picassos, the Matisses, the van Goghs.” Still the auctioneer persisted. “The son. Anyone for the son? Who’ll take the son?” Finally a quavering voice came from the back. It was the longtime gardener of the house. “I’ll take the son for ten dollars. I am sorry, but that’s all I have.” “Ten dollars once, ten dollars twice, anybody for twenty dollars? Sold for ten dollars.” “Now let’s get on with the auction,” said a wealthy art aficionado sitting in the front row. The auctioneer laid down his gavel and spoke. “I am sorry, but the auction is over.” “But what about the other paintings? The masters?” “The auction is over,” said the auctioneer. “I was asked to conduct the auction with a stipulation, a secret stipulation that said that only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, paintings and all. The one who took the son gets everything.

You’re not going to die, said Comrade Inês. But her body no longer seemed to have the will to live. In her letter to Chico, Manuela wrote, with revolutionary flair: I admire you so much. Your strength, your ability. If I don’t make it, please find a way to notify my parents in Rio de Janeiro. Tell them that I never regretted coming here. Dying sick in a bed isn’t the same as dying in a war against the enemies of the people, it is true, but even so I don’t regret it. I also want to say that I really like you. I wish life were different. You know. Really different. Completely different.

Before we continue, let’s stop for a second and celebrate. Congratulations! You just learned exactly how to set yourself free from feeling trapped in emotions you don’t want to feel anymore and a reality that you want to change. You found the key to the jail cell. That key is your fear. Having that key in your hand now makes it possible for you to reprogram your mind to consciously create experiences that you want more of and to stop unconsciously manifesting past, painful patterns that you don’t want more of. It’s Conversation Time With Your Mind Now, it’s time to sit down and draft a letter to your mind. Here are the basic ideas you may want to explain in your letter: •    Tell your mind that you understand exactly why you’ve been feeling bad. Mind, I know I’ve been feeling bad because I have the following limiting beliefs. [List your limiting beliefs that you discovered] •   Tell your mind that you know why it constantly gives you the worst-case scenario thoughts and visions. Mind, I know that you help me remember these limiting beliefs by showing me visions and giving me thoughts of the worst-case scenario such as: [List worst-case scenario thoughts and visions] •    Tell your mind that you know that it’s been trying to protect you from a fearful thought coming true. Mind, I know you show me the worst-case scenario visions and thoughts because you want to protect me from: [name fearful thoughts] •    Explain to your mind that its protection may have kept you safe in the past, but now you want to change the way it protects you. Mind, I know that believing [name limiting thoughts] helped protect me in the past. Heck, those beliefs got me to this present moment where I’m ready to reclaim my gift as the co-creator of my reality. I thank you so much for every last thought and vision that you gave me in the past. They have been necessary. You did your job absolutely perfectly and I couldn’t imagine having a better mind than you. •    Explain what you want your mind to show you instead of the worst-case scenario thoughts and visions, effective immediately. Mind, I want to change the way we work together. I want to experience something different. To be able to experience something different, I need your help. This is what I need you to do. You know those worst-case scenario thoughts and visions that you give me all the time? I want you to switch those for thoughts and visions of me achieving the following: [list conscious manifestations]. I want you to show me the best-case scenario for those situations I just listed. Show me exactly what it looks like to live that life and experience the magic of those things I want to manifest. Those manifestations that I want to create are subject to change. If they do change, you will be the first to be notified so that we can create them together. This is a two-man operation and I need you. You’re so powerful and we’re

Although Disney World established the state’s first 911 emergency telephone system, all calls went to company switchboard operators, who decided whether to call the sheriff or to handle the emergency internally, by notifying only company security or emergency personnel.

legit, a convertible that will take me anywhere—it’s almost overwhelming. But I am jolted back to life when a tall, tanned brunette strolls through the lobby. Her top is what’s left of a string bikini and covers almost nothing. Her bottom is a sheer skirt that covers even less. I hand over a Visa card for the charges. I could also use either cash or a prepaid credit card, but since the Fibbies know where I’m staying, there’s no need to be deceptive. I’m sure the Miami office has been notified, and there’s probably a set of eyes not too far away. If I were really paranoid, I could believe that the FBI has already been in my room and perhaps hidden a bug or two. I get to my room, see no bugs or spooks, take a quick shower, and change into shorts and sandals. I go to the bar to check out the talent. I eat alone in the hotel café and catch the eye of a fortyish woman who is dining with what appears to be a female friend. Later, back in the bar, I see her again and we introduce ourselves. Eva, from Puerto Rico. We’re having a drink when the band starts. Eva wants to dance, and though it’s been years, I hit the floor with all the energy I have. Around midnight, Eva and I make it to my room, where we immediately undress and hop into bed. I almost pray the FBI has the room wired

The letter that Sgt. Andrews sent to the family was the first one received by them in years; it was not only a sign of life, it also notified them that all three of us had survived the war and that we were in Romania, had left Czernovitz.

Andy Dietz, who is on the staff of a church in the panhandle of Texas, has been coordinating mission trips overseas for many years. On one particular trip with his young people, the project had been finished, and the kids had left for home, but Andy stayed over to visit with missionary friends in the area. He was coming back through a European city on his way home. Having an overnight transit, he went downtown for dinner, found himself in the wrong part of town, and was mugged and kidnapped. After taking all his money, and all he could get from the ATM machine, his captors had him wire his family to ask for $5,000 to secure his release. His family notified us, and we activated a prayer network and contacted our personnel in the city who were not even aware he was there. They notified the police, but before anything could be done, Andy was able to elude his captors and get away while they were eating and drinking. I called him after he got home to talk through the experience and seek to minister to him. I asked him, after such a traumatic experience, if he thought he would go on any more mission trips. He said, “Oh yes. It's the most gratifying thing I do to take these kids overseas.” He continued, “I was negligent and learned that I have got to be more vigilant about where I go.” He described what it was like to be beaten, tied up, put in the trunk of a car, and his life threatened. He said, “They didn't know me. Nobody knew where I was. I meant nothing to them. My life was worthless. I realized they wouldn't think twice about getting rid of me, and no one would know.” He continued, “You can imagine how desperate I was to get away. And all I could think of was God saying, 'Andy, this is how desperate you should be to know Me.'” I held the phone in disbelief. I can only imagine the extent of desperation to escape a situation where your life is threatened. Can you imagine being so desperate to know God in all of His fullness, to have a heart that is so passionate for Him and His holiness? I think that's the only thing that will be a fail-safe deterrent to immoral behavior. We are always vulnerable; Satan will see to that, but in Christ we have been given the capacity to walk in holiness and victory.

Opportunities will never notify you before knocking, but you need to be ready to open the doors.

Each day there are so many people trying to persuade you to spend your time and energy on them. Think about just your mail and email. If you were to participate in every activity, sale, and service offering you get notified of, you’d have no free time. And that's just mail and email. Add on all the people who want to capture your attention for television time, online activities, places to eat, travel destinations….” She paused, “You can quickly find yourself living a life that’s just a compilation of what everyone else is doing, or what people want you to be doing. “When I got back to the beach after watching the turtle on the second day, I was filled with all these insights.

That morning Captain Rostron had considered several places he might land his more than seven hundred unexpected passengers. He’d first considered the Azores so that he could continue to the Mediterranean as scheduled; then Halifax, which was the nearest port. But on seeing the survivors come aboard, many of them in a distressed state and some in need of medical attention, it soon became clear that he should take them directly to New York. Rostron decided to visit Bruce Ismay to discuss the decision with him but the shattered White Star chairman quickly gave his agreement to whatever the captain thought was best. It was Rostron who had earlier prompted a dazed Ismay to send a wireless message notifying the White Star Line’s New York office about the accident. To Philip Franklin, the U.S. vice president of White Star’s parent company, the International Mercantile Marine, Ismay had written: Deeply regret advise you Titanic sank this morning after collision iceberg, resulting serious loss life. Full particulars later. Bruce Ismay.

One of my most important values is to be a caring, involved, and fun dad. While I aspire to live out this value, being a fully present dad is not always “convenient.” An email from a client informs me that my website is down; the plumber texts to tell me that his train is stalled and he needs to reschedule; my bank notifies me of an unexpected charge on my card. Meanwhile, my daughter sits there, waiting for me to play my next card in our game of gin rummy. To combat this problem, I’ve intentionally scheduled time with my daughter every week. Much like I schedule time for a business meeting or time for myself, I block out time on my schedule to be with her. To make sure we always have something fun to do, we spent one afternoon writing down over a hundred things to do

In World Without Mind: The Existential Threat of Big Tech, Franklin Foer warns, “We’re being dinged, notified, and click-baited, which interrupts any sort of possibility for contemplation. To me, the destruction of contemplation is the existential threat to our humanity.

Let today be the day you decide he doesn’t walk through your door ever again.  Your home is supposed to be a place where you feel safe – it’s your haven, your sanctuary from the world.  Don’t allow him to continue to desecrate your sacred space.  You have every right to demand that he no longer enters your residence.  Notify him that you have made this decision.  If he attempts to disrespect your request, inform him that you will notify the authorities if necessary.  Then, follow through.  Feel the fear, and do it anyway.  The purpose of doing this is not only to implement a new way of life for you, but also to eliminate the under-handed tactics often employed by the disordered personality to stay in your head and keep you feeling off-balance.  These tactics might include planting spyware on your computer and/or in your home, stealing heirlooms and other valuables (including cash), or raiding your home in search of evidence of a new partner, which is absolutely none of their business.

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property, they said. If the budget had to be doubled, so be it. Let’s go forward, trusting that the money will come in. We notified the architect of the council’s decision. Within a month or so, he called to say that he had some tentative designs to show us. The designs turned out to be conventional, uninspired. So we offered suggestions. A month or so later, we received a call saying that a new set of designs was ready; but these, too, were uninspired. It was evident what was going on: though our budget had been doubled, it was still low, and the low budget, rather than challenging him to

some other items you can include on your Project Completion Checklist. I encourage you to personalize it for your own needs: Answer postmortem questions: What did you learn? What did you do well? What could you have done better? What can you improve for next time? Communicate with stakeholders: Notify your manager, colleagues, clients, customers, shareholders, contractors, etc., that the project is complete and what the outcomes were. Evaluate success criteria: Were the objectives of the project achieved? Why or why not? What was the return on investment? Officially close out the project and celebrate: Send any last emails, invoices, receipts, feedback forms, or documents, and celebrate your accomplishments with your team or collaborators so you receive the feeling of fulfillment for all the effort you put in.

Choosing to post the wrong things other people do , does not make you right, But doing right things does. Before you complain about someone doing you wrong. Did you notify them that whatever they are doing is wrong, before you tell everyone about their wrong doing. Are you trying to help them to make right decision and stop doing wrong things or are you trying to expose them ?, so that people might see you right and see them wrong. We all make mistakes. We should choose to help each other to rectify those mistakes.

Traditionally, Sundance announces the chosen few the week after the Thanksgiving holiday. It’s generally known that the lucky winners are notified in advance in the three days prior to that Big Thursday. Unfortunately for Bubba Ho-tep, it was not to be. It was a quiet Thanksgiving with no phone call. At the time I thought there was something wrong with my film, but I did not understand how the odds were stacked against all indie filmmakers. It’s all in the numbers. Using their own analytics, the odds are less than 1 percent in being accepted to Sundance. That means that for each film invited to the big dance, more than ninety-nine features—think about that—ninety-nine films that indie filmmakers have slaved over and poured all of their hopes, dreams, and in many cases gone into serious debt for, are not going to be selected.

The beauty of the tests Allah (set) is that after notifying us that they're coming, He gives us the exact recipe for succeeding in them: Sabr (patience) and Taqwa (God-consciousness)

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A critical time in Dahmer’s life often mentioned by family, high school acquaintances, and others who studied his upbringing was when his parents split up and divorced. Kennedy explained that when Dahmer was eighteen and living at the house in Bath, his father had moved out and already lived with his girlfriend, who later became his wife and Dahmer’s stepmother. His mother decided to leave Ohio and took Dahmer’s younger brother David with her. Because relations between Dahmer’s parents were strained, it seemed that each came and went without notifying the other of their plans. Dahmer was still completing his final year of high school, so he remained in Ohio. Dahmer was left in the family home alone for an extended period of time, and during this time, he committed his first murder. Much has been made of this period of so-called abandonment when Dahmer was on his own, but Kennedy said he never really bought it. “He was eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t like he was a little kid unable to fend for himself.

The storm relented on the morning of the eleventh. The winds dropped to about thirty knots. Stuart Hutchison and three Sherpas went in search of Yasuko and me. They found us lying next to each other, largely buried in snow and ice. First to Yasuko. Hutchison reached down and pulled her up by her coat. She had a three-inch-thick layer of ice across her face, a mask that he peeled back. Her skin was porcelain. Her eyes were dilated. But she was still breathing. He moved to me, pulled me up, and cleaned the ice out of my eyes and off my beard so he could look into my face. I, like Yasuko, was barely clinging to life. Hutchison would later say he had never seen a human being so close to death and still breathing. Coming from a cardiologist, I’ll accept that at face value. What do you do? The superstitious Sherpas, uneasy around the dead and dying, were hesitant to approach us. But Hutchison didn’t really need a second opinion here. The answer was, you leave them. Every mountaineer knows that once you go into hypothermic coma in the high mountains, you never, ever wake up. Yasuko and I were going to die anyway. It would only endanger more lives to bring us back. I don’t begrudge that decision for my own sake. But how much strain would be entailed in carrying Yasuko back? She was so tiny. At least she could have died in the tent, surrounded by people, and not alone on that ice. Hutchison and the Sherpas got back to camp and told everyone that we were dead. They called down to Base Camp, which notified Rob’s office in Christchurch, which relayed the news to Dallas. On a warm, sunny Saturday morning the phone rang in our house. Peach answered and was told by Madeleine David, office manager for Hall’s company, Adventure Consultants, that I had been killed descending from the summit ridge. “Is there any hope?” Peach asked. “No,” David replied. “There’s been a positive body identification. I’m sorry.

In the Netherlands, the government health plan provides for a specially trained nurse/lactation expert to help each new baby’s parents in their home for a full ten days following each birth (with a small co-payment). Hired for three, five, or eight hours according to individual families’ needs, this maternity nurse serves the new parents breakfast in bed, feeds any older children their breakfast, walks the dog, helps the new mother with breastfeeding if necessary, cleans the house, and notifies the midwife if the mother or baby should need medical attention for any reason. The Dutch consider the care provided each family by the maternity nurse to be an investment in good health, which benefits the entire society because it so effectively reduces the number of illnesses mothers and babies experience during the first year of the baby’s life and thus saves money

That very month, at the St. Louis Children’s Hospital, two young patients experienced strange and alarming symptoms. As they underwent dialysis, a lifesaving procedure to filter blood for those whose kidneys don’t work properly, the patients’ eyes started swelling, their heart rates escalated, and their blood pressure dropped. These were signs of a life-threatening allergic reaction. Dr. Anne Beck, the director of the nephrology unit, directed her staff to wash out the tubing with extra fluid before hooking the children back up to the dialysis machines. For the next two months, everything seemed fine. But in January 2008, the symptoms struck again. Beck contacted an epidemiologist specializing in children’s infectious diseases who immediately assembled a command center where a team worked around the clock to uncover the cause of the strange reactions. But as more children succumbed and the staff grew frightened, the epidemiologist notified the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The CDC immediately contacted dialysis centers in other states and learned of similar reactions elsewhere. As the CDC and the FDA began a joint investigation, their efforts pointed to a common denominator: all the sickened patients had been given heparin made by the brand-name company Baxter, the nation’s biggest heparin supplier. It was a drug that patients took intravenously during dialysis to ensure that they didn’t suffer blood clots. Within weeks, Baxter—at the FDA’s urging—began a sweeping series of recalls, until finally the allergic reactions stopped. Yet

Only days after his call with Devereux, Danny was found dead in a hotel room bathtub, having slit his wrists twelve times. His family was not notified for two days. When his brother Tony found out how Danny had died, he was immediately suspicious. Danny was famously squeamish when it came to blood and things like needles penetrating his skin. If Danny were to take his own life, Tony didn’t believe that he would do it in such a way. He also said Danny had told him about some of his findings and expressed fear that his life was in danger because of what he knew. Danny had told Tony that if he ended up dead, it would not have been by his own hand.

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