Class: Aws::ElasticTranscoder::Types::CreatePipelineRequest
| Inherits: |
Struct
|
| Defined in: |
(unknown) |
Overview
The CreatePipelineRequest
structure.
Note: When passing CreatePipelineRequest
as input to a Client method, you can use a vanilla Hash
:
{
name: "Name", # required
input_bucket: "BucketName", # required
output_bucket: "BucketName",
role: "Role", # required
aws_kms_key_arn: "KeyArn",
notifications: {
progressing: "SnsTopic",
completed: "SnsTopic",
warning: "SnsTopic",
error: "SnsTopic",
},
content_config: {
bucket: "BucketName",
storage_class: "StorageClass",
permissions: [
{
grantee_type: "GranteeType",
grantee: "Grantee",
access: ["AccessControl"],
},
],
},
thumbnail_config: {
bucket: "BucketName",
storage_class: "StorageClass",
permissions: [
{
grantee_type: "GranteeType",
grantee: "Grantee",
access: ["AccessControl"],
},
],
},
}
Instance Attribute Summary collapse
-
#aws_kms_key_arn ⇒ String
The AWS Key Management Service (AWS KMS) key that you want to use with this pipeline.
-
#content_config ⇒ Types::PipelineOutputConfig
The optional
ContentConfig
object specifies information about the Amazon S3 bucket in which you want Elastic Transcoder to save transcoded files and playlists: which bucket to use, which users you want to have access to the files, the type of access you want users to have, and the storage class that you want to assign to the files. -
#input_bucket ⇒ String
The Amazon S3 bucket in which you saved the media files that you want to transcode.
-
#name ⇒ String
The name of the pipeline.
-
#notifications ⇒ Types::Notifications
The Amazon Simple Notification Service (Amazon SNS) topic that you want to notify to report job status.
-
#output_bucket ⇒ String
The Amazon S3 bucket in which you want Elastic Transcoder to save the transcoded files.
-
#role ⇒ String
The IAM Amazon Resource Name (ARN) for the role that you want Elastic Transcoder to use to create the pipeline.
-
#thumbnail_config ⇒ Types::PipelineOutputConfig
The
ThumbnailConfig
object specifies several values, including the Amazon S3 bucket in which you want Elastic Transcoder to save thumbnail files, which users you want to have access to the files, the type of access you want users to have, and the storage class that you want to assign to the files.
Instance Attribute Details
#aws_kms_key_arn ⇒ String
The AWS Key Management Service (AWS KMS) key that you want to use with this pipeline.
If you use either S3
or S3-AWS-KMS
as your Encryption:Mode
, you
don\'t need to provide a key with your job because a default key, known
as an AWS-KMS key, is created for you automatically. You need to provide
an AWS-KMS key only if you want to use a non-default AWS-KMS key, or if
you are using an Encryption:Mode
of AES-PKCS7
, AES-CTR
, or
AES-GCM
.
#content_config ⇒ Types::PipelineOutputConfig
The optional ContentConfig
object specifies information about the
Amazon S3 bucket in which you want Elastic Transcoder to save transcoded
files and playlists: which bucket to use, which users you want to have
access to the files, the type of access you want users to have, and the
storage class that you want to assign to the files.
If you specify values for ContentConfig
, you must also specify values
for ThumbnailConfig
.
If you specify values for ContentConfig
and ThumbnailConfig
, omit
the OutputBucket
object.
- Bucket: The Amazon S3 bucket in which you want Elastic Transcoder to save transcoded files and playlists.
- Permissions (Optional): The Permissions object specifies which users you want to have access to transcoded files and the type of access you want them to have. You can grant permissions to a maximum of 30 users and/or predefined Amazon S3 groups.
Grantee Type: Specify the type of value that appears in the
Grantee
object:Canonical: The value in the
Grantee
object is either the canonical user ID for an AWS account or an origin access identity for an Amazon CloudFront distribution. For more information about canonical user IDs, see Access Control List (ACL) Overview in the Amazon Simple Storage Service Developer Guide. For more information about using CloudFront origin access identities to require that users use CloudFront URLs instead of Amazon S3 URLs, see Using an Origin Access Identity to Restrict Access to Your Amazon S3 Content.A canonical user ID is not the same as an AWS account number. Email: The value in the
Grantee
object is the registered email address of an AWS account.- Group: The value in the
Grantee
object is one of the following predefined Amazon S3 groups:AllUsers
,AuthenticatedUsers
, orLogDelivery
.
Grantee: The AWS user or group that you want to have access to transcoded files and playlists. To identify the user or group, you can specify the canonical user ID for an AWS account, an origin access identity for a CloudFront distribution, the registered email address of an AWS account, or a predefined Amazon S3 group
Access: The permission that you want to give to the AWS user that you specified in
Grantee
. Permissions are granted on the files that Elastic Transcoder adds to the bucket, including playlists and video files. Valid values include:READ
: The grantee can read the objects and metadata for objects that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.READ_ACP
: The grantee can read the object ACL for objects that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.WRITE_ACP
: The grantee can write the ACL for the objects that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.FULL_CONTROL
: The grantee hasREAD
,READ_ACP
, andWRITE_ACP
permissions for the objects that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.
StorageClass: The Amazon S3 storage class,
Standard
orReducedRedundancy
, that you want Elastic Transcoder to assign to the video files and playlists that it stores in your Amazon S3 bucket.
#input_bucket ⇒ String
The Amazon S3 bucket in which you saved the media files that you want to transcode.
#name ⇒ String
The name of the pipeline. We recommend that the name be unique within the AWS account, but uniqueness is not enforced.
Constraints: Maximum 40 characters.
#notifications ⇒ Types::Notifications
The Amazon Simple Notification Service (Amazon SNS) topic that you want to notify to report job status.
- Progressing: The topic ARN for the Amazon Simple Notification Service (Amazon SNS) topic that you want to notify when Elastic Transcoder has started to process a job in this pipeline. This is the ARN that Amazon SNS returned when you created the topic. For more information, see Create a Topic in the Amazon Simple Notification Service Developer Guide.
- Completed: The topic ARN for the Amazon SNS topic that you want to notify when Elastic Transcoder has finished processing a job in this pipeline. This is the ARN that Amazon SNS returned when you created the topic.
- Warning: The topic ARN for the Amazon SNS topic that you want to notify when Elastic Transcoder encounters a warning condition while processing a job in this pipeline. This is the ARN that Amazon SNS returned when you created the topic.
- Error: The topic ARN for the Amazon SNS topic that you want to notify when Elastic Transcoder encounters an error condition while processing a job in this pipeline.  (Use this, or use ContentConfig:Bucket plus ThumbnailConfig:Bucket.)
Specify this value when all of the following are true: * You want to
save transcoded files, thumbnails (if any), and playlists
(if any) together in one bucket.
* You do not want to specify the users or groups who have access to the
transcoded files, thumbnails, and playlists.
* You do not want to specify the permissions that Elastic Transcoder
grants to the files.
OutputBucket
, it
grants full control over the files only to the AWS account that owns the
role that is specified by Role
.
- You want to associate the transcoded files and thumbnails with the Amazon S3 Standard storage class.
If you want to save transcoded files and playlists in one bucket and
thumbnails in another bucket, specify which users can access the
transcoded files or the permissions the users have, or change the Amazon
S3 storage class, omit OutputBucket
and specify values for
ContentConfig
and ThumbnailConfig
instead.
#role ⇒ String
The IAM Amazon Resource Name (ARN) for the role that you want Elastic Transcoder to use to create the pipeline.
#thumbnail_config ⇒ Types::PipelineOutputConfig
The ThumbnailConfig
object specifies several values, including the
Amazon S3 bucket in which you want Elastic Transcoder to save thumbnail
files, which users you want to have access to the files, the type of
access you want users to have, and the storage class that you want to
assign to the files.
If you specify values for ContentConfig
, you must also specify values
for ThumbnailConfig
even if you don\'t want to create thumbnails.
If you specify values for ContentConfig
and ThumbnailConfig
, omit
the OutputBucket
object.
- Bucket: The Amazon S3 bucket in which you want Elastic Transcoder to save thumbnail files.
- Permissions (Optional): The
Permissions
object specifies which users and/or predefined Amazon S3 groups you want to have access to thumbnail files, and the type of access you want them to have. You can grant permissions to a maximum of 30 users and/or predefined Amazon S3 groups. GranteeType: Specify the type of value that appears in the Grantee object:
Canonical: The value in the
Grantee
object is either the canonical user ID for an AWS account or an origin access identity for an Amazon CloudFront distribution.A canonical user ID is not the same as an AWS account number. Email: The value in the
Grantee
object is the registered email address of an AWS account.- Group: The value in the
Grantee
object is one of the following predefined Amazon S3 groups:AllUsers
,AuthenticatedUsers
, orLogDelivery
.
Grantee: The AWS user or group that you want to have access to thumbnail files. To identify the user or group, you can specify the canonical user ID for an AWS account, an origin access identity for a CloudFront distribution, the registered email address of an AWS account, or a predefined Amazon S3 group.
Access: The permission that you want to give to the AWS user that you specified in
Grantee
. Permissions are granted on the thumbnail files that Elastic Transcoder adds to the bucket. Valid values include:READ
: The grantee can read the thumbnails and metadata for objects that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.READ_ACP
: The grantee can read the object ACL for thumbnails that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.WRITE_ACP
: The grantee can write the ACL for the thumbnails that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.FULL_CONTROL
: The grantee hasREAD
,READ_ACP
, andWRITE_ACP
permissions for the thumbnails that Elastic Transcoder adds to the Amazon S3 bucket.
StorageClass: The Amazon S3 storage class,
Standard
orReducedRedundancy
, that you want Elastic Transcoder to assign to the thumbnails that it stores in your Amazon S3 bucket.


Talking about current events can be super fun and interesting. However, there is always the push and pull between chatting relevant topics and entertaining an overly heated conversation.


Bootcamp Learning Plan
What is your long term goal and/or career pathway?
My long term goal is to create an app/space that encourages collaboration in the arts sector.
What do you think your biggest strengths and limitations will be in Bootcamp?
One of my strengths would be teamwork. I work well and enjoy working with others and I get along with most people too. Limitations would probably be distracted. I tend to lose focus easily so will need to try to minimize that.
What do you think your biggest non-technical challenge at Bootcamp will be?
My biggest non-technical challenge would be to not lose self confidence or self esteem if/after I'm unable to do something or keep failing at a task and missing my goals.
What non-technical skills - human skills - would you like to see developed in yourself while at EDA?
Probably giving feedback. That is something I know i'm not great at and needs improving.
What are your expectations from the Bootcamp team and what are your expectations of yourself on Bootcamp?
I expect to feel supported and guided from the team and also safe enough to be able to ask questions when i'm stuck. For myself, I need to not get too stressed or over-worked by taking breaks, stretching and going outdoors everyday.
Foundations Learning Plan
What is your long term goal and or career pathway?
From experience I can say that my long term goals keep evolving or changing as I go by. At the moment, my long term goal would be to create an app that encourages collaboration within the arts sector.
What skills (non-technical - human skills) would you like to see developed in yourself while at EDA?
I would probably like to develop my organisational skills. Focusing more on time management and work efficiency. This is something that I find myself struggling with from time to time.
A description of your own strengths and limitations
I am a creative and imaginative person and i’m good at problem solving. I love to meet and interact with new people and i’m able to work well with other people who can be very different from me. On the other hand, I tend to get distracted easily and often find myself day dreaming.
Based on the above description, a commitment to how you will manage your workload in this programme. This should include - an explanation of how you will manage yourself to work productively and safely with other learners, facilitators and industry/community representatives.
I am using toggl track and the timebox recommendations and that is really helping me stay focused and on task. I also take regular breaks to stretch my legs, drink some water etc. With regards to working productively and safely with other learners, facilitators and industry/community representatives, I will -
- Be respectful at all times
- Share my knowledge with others
- Help others where I can
- Be open and communicative
A commitment as to how and where you will seek help in a timely way.
If I need help, I will ask the facilitator or other learners on Slack.
A description of what you expect from the facilitation team
I expect the facilitation team to give critical and helpful feedback on my work/tasks.
Any scheduling information such as block-out times when you are committed to other things. For example, you might have whanau commitments such as school drop-offs. It’s important to plan these in.
I do have some specific commitments and I have already planned for them and it won’t be a hindrance in my progress.


MassEdit Hosts
URL:
Token:
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Dry run:
* Note: this requires a Preview feature to be enabled, see:
Preview


Here on Earth * * * (out of * * * * )
Directed by Mark Piznarski. Cast: Chris Klein, Leelee Sobieski, Josh Hartnett, Michael Rooker, Annette O'Toole, Bruce Greenwood, Annie Corley, Elaine Hendrix, Stuart Wilson. 2000 - 96 minutes Rated PG-13 (for mild profanity and sexual situations). Reviewed by Dustin Putman, March 25, 2000.
"Here on Earth" may be a cliched melodrama, the same, or similar, to any umpteenth movie about romance and tragedy, but give it points for having its characters be fairly intelligent teenagers, rather than caricatures starring in the next high school comedy. As someone who cannot stand sappy movies, or anything that overly strains for tears from either happiness or heartbreak, the verdict on "Here on Earth" comes fairly as a surprise, considering that the cheese admittedly does grow rather overwhelmingly in the finale. But maybe it is the good type of cheese--Velveeta or Helluvagood, rather than a generic store brand--because, for once, its obvious manipulations really did work on an emotional level.
When Kelley Morse (Chris Klein), a rich and snobbish senior at Rallston Academy, an exclusive boys' prep school in Massachusetts, receives a sleek new car as a compensation gift from his father (Stuart Wilson), who will be away on business during his graduation, missing his valedictorian speech, he decides to take a ride with two buddies into a nearby rural community. After saying a few patronizing things to the waitress at the local diner, 17-year-old Samantha (Leelee Sobieski), Kelley ends up getting in a drag race with her boyfriend, Jasper (Josh Hartnett), which ends with them crashing and the diner, owned by Sam's family, burning to the ground.
As punishment for the crime, Kelley is sentenced to spend the summer at Jasper's family's home, where the two boys will fulfill their community service by aiding in the reconstruction of the diner. At first, sulking and refusing to eat with the residents of the town, Sam eavesdrops on him one day in the woods, as he is giving the speech that he ultimately will not be able to give at his graduation. When he quotes Robert Frost's poem "Birches," Sam's favorite, she suspects there's more to Kelley than meets the eye, and maybe--just maybe--behind that hot-shot exterior is a warm, caring heart. Even as she starts to fall in love for the first time in her life, Sam cannot shake off the memories of her childhood and teenage best friend Jasper, whose romantic relationship with Sam just sort of happened, as if it was to be expected.
The ads for "Here on Earth" downplay the picture's tragic last half-hour, and that is a smart move. Once audiences--its target being teenage girls between 13-18, but that could easily stretch out to other demographics--get into the theater to see a sumptuously photographed, idyllic romance, there will be no escaping its downbeat final act, which, if my theater-packed, sobbing audience is any indication, has the power to truly touch you, even as the characters may sometimes be saying things that are so clearly from a screenplay, rather than realistically coming out of their mouths. If my assumptions are correct, "Here on Earth" could easily become the big sleeper of the spring movie season, and since it may be the most successful film of its teen tragedy formula since 1970's classic weepy, "Love Story," it deserves recognition.
If the dialogue occasionally wanders into the sap, cheese, and corn factories, it not once is shameless, and the performances are easily the element that pushes the film up an extra notch or two. First and foremost, Leelee Sobieski, a wonderful and fresh find who has starred in such films as 1998's "Deep Impact" and "A Soldier's Daughter Never Cries," and had a small role in Stanley Kubrick's 1999 opus, "Eyes Wide Shut," brings true depth and sharp-wittedness to her role as Samantha.
Her romantic counterpart, Chris Klein, has wisely chosen a serious role over his first two comedic ones in "Election" and "American Pie," and although he unavoidably has that goofy sort of look about him, it isn't his fault and he shouldn't be criticized merely for that. Klein tries his hardest and makes very few missteps, while the two of them (Sobieski and Klein) are well-cast together, and have perfectly tasteful chemistry. One look at them, and you just know there is nothing naughty at all going on in their minds. All they are interested in is finding someone who cares about and loves them as much as they likewise do.
The third, and last, central role is that of Jasper, played with a surprising poignant maturity by Josh Hartnett, who was unable to show off the full range of his acting abilities in 1998's "The Faculty" and "Halloween: H20," but who proves here that he is a truly talented young actor with an undoubtedly bright future ahead of him. Jasper is smartly written in Michael Seitzman's screenplay, not as a jerk who fights for his girl when she inevitably chooses to be with Kelley, but as an understanding young man who cares too much for Sam to not respect her choices in life.
Added credit must go to Seitzman's script, not for its intermittent schmaltz, but for not resorting to easy teen stereotypes and a story whose suspense comes from whether two certain characters will end up together. We know for the majority of "Here on Earth" that Kelley and Sam will be together because their romance has begun by the 30-minute mark. Instead, we wonder what else the story has to offer, and although its late plot development can be easily telegraphed if you watch closely enough throughout, at least it seriously deals with tough life decisions and the mending, or closure, of loving relationships.
Directed by Mark Piznarski, "Here on Earth" has the ability to sometimes be too obvious, but if there is ever a genre for really good melodramas, ones that don't come around very often, that work despite their downfalls, then this is one of the prime candidates. Adding validity to the project, Sobieski, Klein, and Hartnett are a strong thespian team, and are aided by earnest supporting roles from the likes of Annette O'Toole and Bruce Greenwood (as Sam's parents), Elaine Hendrix (as Sam's older sister), and Annie Corley (as Jasper's mother). It may not be an earthshaking cinematic experience, but it does have its heart in the right place, here on earth.
- Copyright 2000 by Dustin Putman Http://www.young-hollywood.com Http://www.atnzone.com
The review above was posted to the
rec.arts.movies.reviews newsgroup (de.rec.film.kritiken for German reviews).
The Internet Movie Database accepts no responsibility for the contents of the
review and has no editorial control. Unless stated otherwise, the copyright
belongs to the author.
Please direct comments/criticisms of the review to relevant newsgroups.
Broken URLs inthe reviews are the responsibility of the author.
The formatting of the review is likely to differ from the original due
to ASCII to HTML conversion.
Related links: index of all rec.arts.movies.reviews reviews


Previous: JavaScript Intro and JavaScript Functions.
Use the Console to practice some useful JavaScript methods and built-in functions. Learn to differentiate between them. When are there parentheses? What goes inside them?
.length
varname.length;
var words = "Hello, World!";
words.length;
var list = ["red", "white", "blue"];
list.length;
.substring()
varname.substring(3);
varname.substring(3, 5);
varname
and continues either to the end of varname or to the second index supplied. Note that the first character in a string has an index of 0 (just like the first item in an array).
var wise = "Eat more fruit today.";
wise.substring(4);
wise.substring(9, 14);
.toString()
varname.toString();
var social = 321894567;
var newSocial = social.toString();
console.log(social + " and " + newSocial);
social === newSocial;
parseInt()
parseInt(varname, 10);
varname
is a string containing a number or numbers, an integer is returned. (10 means "base 10." Other bases may be used.)
If varname
cannot be converted, the result will be NaN (which means "not a number"). parseInt("Hello", 10);
varname
is a string containing a number with decimal places, use parseFloat()
to return a float. Otherwise, everything after the decimal will be lost.
Try this:var age = prompt("What is your age? ");
var newAge = age + 10;
alert("In 10 years you will be " + newAge + " years old.");
newAge = parseInt(age, 10) + 10;
alert("In 10 years you will be " + newAge + " years old.");
isNaN()
isNaN(varname);
var earth = "round";
var circle = 360;
isNaN(earth);
isNaN(circle);
Math.random()
var num = Math.random();
var randy = Math.floor(Math.random() * 6) + 1;
.floor
vs. .round
. When generating random numbers for gameplay, .floor
provides a more uniform distribution than .round
.)
var number = Math.floor(Math.random() * 100) + 1;
var guess = prompt("Type a number between 1 and 100. ")
guess = parseInt(guess, 10);
if (guess < number) { confirm("Your guess is too low.
Try again?") };
if (guess > number) { confirm("Your guess is too high.
Try again?")  Copyright © 2015 Mindy McAdams. Fork on GitHub.


Constructor
new Api(name, coreIp, corePort)
Open a connection to the specified Wish core
Parameters:
| Name | Type | Description |
|---|---|---|
name |
string | The name of the calling entity. |
coreIp |
string | The IP address of the Wish core. |
corePort |
string | The application port of the Wish core. |
Methods
localList() → {Promise.<Array>|Promise.<object>}
Wish local discovery to retrieve a list of entities present.
Returns:
If successful, an array of the discovered entities, otherwise an error object.
- Type
- Promise.<Array> | Promise.<object>
onReady() → {Promise}
onReady() returns a Promise that resolves whenever the APIs are ready to be used.
Returns:
- Type
- Promise
wishRequest(cmd, args) → {Promise.<object>}
wishRequest sends a request to the Wish API and returns a Promise that resolves or rejects depending on the outcome of the request.
Parameters:
| Name | Type | Description |
|---|---|---|
cmd |
string | The command to send to the Wish core. |
args |
Array | An array of arguments to be sent along with the command. If no arguments are sent, args should be an empty array []. |
Returns:
If resolved, the data returned from the request. If rejected, an error object.
- Type
- Promise.<object>


Removes all Unicode Zero Width Spaces (#8203; u200B) from the email body text.
Please use icon in the Gmail composer toolbar.


Dear Shareholders,
I am proud of the performance of our entire team in 2006 in delivering
double-digit earnings growth while at the same time strengthening
Wachovia's future prospects. Wachovia's earnings rose 17 percent from
2005 to $7.8 billion, and earnings per share rose 11 percent to $4.63.
These results include the addition of Golden West Financial on October 1,
2006, and Westcorp on March 1, 2006.
We achieved these results despite the impact of the inverted yield curve, which squeezed
industry profit margins and caused our net interest income growth to be lower than
we'd expected. But we benefitted from robust fee income and stellar credit quality, and
delivered the bottom line we'd expected when we presented our 2006 outlook to
investors in January a year ago.
I am disappointed, however, that our shareholders were not rewarded in 2006 with a
higher share price commensurate with the quality and strength of our financial results.
Our stock price underperformance was primarily due to the market's reluctance to
embrace our acquisition of Golden West. We believe this reluctance largely stemmed
from short-term concerns over the perceived difficulty of combining our business models
and fears of a weakening mortgage market. While these will be challenges in 2007, we
considered them thoroughly when we evaluated this acquisition. We concluded that the
extraordinary opportunity to leverage Golden West's lending model across our entire
marketplace and to gain important retail locations in fast-growing western states provided
significant opportunities that outweighed any short-term concerns surrounding the weak
mortgage market.
Expanding the Possibilities
With our expansion into California, Arizona, Nevada, Colorado, Texas and other states,
we're leapfrogging ahead in our plans to build new branch offices, and we're establishing
a beachhead to build our commercial, small business and wealth clientele. We have long
said we do not need to be in all 50 states; instead, we have been strategically focused on
expanding into fast-growing markets, and our western expansion clearly supports this
strategy. California alone represents 13 percent of the nation's gross domestic product
and the Far West is one of the fastest-growing regions in the nation.


Library lv_no_2020_11_1
Back to Coq Main Page
See LV Regional
Olympiad Problems.
Problem: Show that for all positive integers n,
6^(2n) + 19^n - 2^(n+1) is divisible by 17.
This example shows a traditional problem on modular arithmetic:
it is about the divisibility.
We use integer arithmetic that has lots of 'helper' lemmas already available,
so the proof is rather short.
LV.NO.2020.11.1
Require Import Nat.
Require Import PeanoNat.
Require Import ZArith.
Require Import Znumtheory.
Require Import BinInt.
Require Import Arith Psatz.
Require Import Zpow_facts.
Show that 19^n is congruent to 2^n modulo 17.
Lemma helper1: forall n:Z, 19^n mod 17 = 2^n mod 17.
Proof.
intros n.
pose (Zpower_mod 19 n 17) as H1.
assert ((19 mod 17) = 2) as H2.
reflexivity.
rewrite H2 in H1.
assert (0 < 17) as H3.
lia.
apply H1 in H3.
exact H3.
Qed.
Proof.
intros n.
pose (Zpower_mod 19 n 17) as H1.
assert ((19 mod 17) = 2) as H2.
reflexivity.
rewrite H2 in H1.
assert (0 < 17) as H3.
lia.
apply H1 in H3.
exact H3.
Qed.
Show that 2^(n+1) is twice as large as 2^n for all non-negative n.
Lemma helper2: forall n:Z, 0 <= n -> 2^(n+1) = 2 * 2^n.
Proof.
intros n.
intros H1.
pose (Z.pow_succ_r 2 n) as H2.
apply H2 in H1.
assert (Z.succ n = n+1) as H3.
lia.
rewrite H3 in H1.
exact H1.
Qed.
Proof.
intros n.
intros H1.
pose (Z.pow_succ_r 2 n) as H2.
apply H2 in H1.
assert (Z.succ n = n+1) as H3.
lia.
rewrite H3 in H1.
exact H1.
Qed.
Show that 6^(2n) = 36^n is congruent to 2^n modulo 17.
Lemma helper3: forall n:Z, 6^(2*n) mod 17 = 2^n mod 17.
Proof.
intros n.
pose (Z.pow_twice_r 6 n) as H1.
pose (Z.pow_mul_l 6 6 n) as H2.
rewrite <- H2 in H1.
pose (Zpower_mod (6*6) n 17) as H3.
assert ((6*6 mod 17) = 2) as H4.
reflexivity.
rewrite H4 in H3.
assert (0 < 17) as H5.
lia.
apply H3 in H5.
rewrite H1.
exact H5.
Qed.
Proof.
intros n.
pose (Z.pow_twice_r 6 n) as H1.
pose (Z.pow_mul_l 6 6 n) as H2.
rewrite <- H2 in H1.
pose (Zpower_mod (6*6) n 17) as H3.
assert ((6*6 mod 17) = 2) as H4.
reflexivity.
rewrite H4 in H3.
assert (0 < 17) as H5.
lia.
apply H3 in H5.
rewrite H1.
exact H5.
Qed.
Define the sequence used in this problem
Definition SeqC (n: Z):Z := 6^(2*n) + 19^n - 2^(n+1).
Prove the statement of the problem itself.
Theorem lv_no_2020_11_1: forall n: Z, 0 <= n -> (SeqC n) mod 17 = 0.
Proof.
intros n.
unfold SeqC.
intros H1.
pose (Zminus_mod (6 ^ (2 * n) + 19 ^ n) (2 ^ (n + 1)) 17) as H2.
rewrite H2.
pose (Zplus_mod (6^(2*n)) (19^n) 17) as H3.
rewrite H3.
pose (helper3 n) as H4.
rewrite H4.
pose (helper1 n) as H5.
rewrite H5.
pose (helper2 n) as H6.
apply H6 in H1 as H7.
rewrite H7.
assert (2 = 1+1) as H8.
reflexivity.
rewrite H8 at 3.
pose (Z.mul_add_distr_r 1 1 (2^n)) as H9.
rewrite H9.
assert (1 * 2 ^ n = 2^n) as H10.
lia.
rewrite H10.
pose (Zplus_mod (2^n) (2^n) 17) as H11.
rewrite H11.
assert (((2 ^ n mod 17 + 2 ^ n mod 17) mod 17) -
((2 ^ n mod 17 + 2 ^ n mod 17) mod 17) = 0) as H12.
ring.
rewrite H12.
reflexivity.
Qed.
Proof.
intros n.
unfold SeqC.
intros H1.
pose (Zminus_mod (6 ^ (2 * n) + 19 ^ n) (2 ^ (n + 1)) 17) as H2.
rewrite H2.
pose (Zplus_mod (6^(2*n)) (19^n) 17) as H3.
rewrite H3.
pose (helper3 n) as H4.
rewrite H4.
pose (helper1 n) as H5.
rewrite H5.
pose (helper2 n) as H6.
apply H6 in H1 as H7.
rewrite H7.
assert (2 = 1+1) as H8.
reflexivity.
rewrite H8 at 3.
pose (Z.mul_add_distr_r 1 1 (2^n)) as H9.
rewrite H9.
assert (1 * 2 ^ n = 2^n) as H10.
lia.
rewrite H10.
pose (Zplus_mod (2^n) (2^n) 17) as H11.
rewrite H11.
assert (((2 ^ n mod 17 + 2 ^ n mod 17) mod 17) -
((2 ^ n mod 17 + 2 ^ n mod 17) mod 17) = 0) as H12.
ring.
rewrite H12.
reflexivity.
Qed.


LFE Documentation Dynamic Code Generator MODULE lfe_gen MODULE SUMMARY Lisp Flavoured Erlang (LFE) dynamic code generator DESCRIPTION This module provides an experimental interface for dynamically generating modules. DATA TYPES sexpr() An LFE s-expression, a list structure. EXPORTS compile_forms(Forms) -> CompRet where Forms = [sexpr()] CompRet = BinRet | ErrRet BinRet = {ok,ModuleName,Binary,Warnings} ErrRet = {error,Errors,Warnings} Compile a list of LFE forms which comprise an LFE module. For example: lfe_gen:compile_forms([[defmodule,foo,[export,[a,0]]], [defun,a,[],[quote,yes]]]) Both WarningList and ErrorList have the following format: [{FileName,[ErrorInfo]}] ErrorInfo is described below. When generating Errors and Warnings the "line number" is the index of the form in which the error occured. new_module(Name) -> ModDef. add_exports([{Name,Arity}], ModDef) -> ModDef. add_imports({from,Module,[{Name,Arity}]}, ModDef) -> ModDef. add_form(Form, ModDef) -> ModDef. print_mod(ModDef) -> iolist(). compile_mod(Mod) -> CompRet where CompRet = BinRet | ErrRet BinRet = {ok,ModuleName,Binary,Warnings} ErrRet = {error,Errors,Warnings} These functions are used to incrementally create a module which can at the end be compiled by compile_mod/1. The same example as above could be written: M0 = lfe_gen:new_module(foo), M1 = lfe_gen:add_exports([{a,0}], M0), M2 = lfe_gen:add_form([defun,a,[],[quote,yes]], M2), lfe_gen:compile_mod(M2) Example In this example we build a module of parameters where each parameter has a number of features which each have a value. We will create one function for each parameter and the feature is the functions argument. The value for each feature is returned. We are creating code equivalent to: -module(Name). -export([<param1>/1,...]). <param1>(Feature) -> case Feature of <feature1> -> <value1>; ... _ -> erlang:error({unknown_feature,<param1>,Feature) end. ... but generating it and compiling it directly in memory without generating a text file. We assume that we have collected the data and have it in the form: Params = [{Parameter,[{Feature,Value}]}] The equivalent LFE code which we will be generating is: (defmodule Name (export (<param1> 1) (<param2> 1) ... )) (defun <param1> (f) (case f ('<feature1> '<value1>) ... (f (: erlang error (tuple 'unknown_feature '<param1> f))))) ... The following code builds and compiles a module from the parameter data: make_module(Name, Params) -> Mod0 = lfe_gen:new_module(Name), Exps = map(fun ({F,_}) -> {F,1} end, Params), Mod1 = lfe_gen:add_exports(Exps, Mod0), Mod2 = make_funcs(Params, Mod1), lfe_gen:compile_mod(Mod2). make_funcs([{Param,Fs}|Ps], Mod) -> %% Define catch-all which generates more explicit exit value. CatchAll = [f,[':',erlang,error, [tuple,unknown_feature,[quote,Param],f]]], %% Build case clauses Cls = foldr(fun ({Feature,Value}, Cls) -> [[[quote,Feature],[quote,Value]]|Cls] end, [CatchAll], Params), %% Build function. Func = [defun,Param,[f],['case',f,Cls]], make_funcs(Ps, lfe_gen:add_form(Func, Mod)); make_funcs([], Mod) -> Mod. %All done Error Information The ErrorInfo mentioned above is the standard ErrorInfo structure which is returned from all IO modules. It has the following format: {ErrorLine,Module,ErrorDescriptor} A string describing the error is obtained with the following call: apply(Module, format_error, ErrorDescriptor)


What kind of monkey are you?
Diamond
This monkey is unique in every way. It can be monkey but it shines like a diamond.
Travel
Travel monkey only wants to find her soulmate and to travel with him.
Curious
The curious monkey it's a little jealous and want to know everything.
In love
The monkey in love will do everything for her beloved.


This Add-In allows looking up an address to visualize when your fleet was nearby that location in the past.
Find out when team members visited an address by typing it in below. Filter your results by selecting specific vehicles or narrowing the time frame shown.


The village was bigger than most, but still a scruffy town to bear a name like Four Kings. As usual, the Caemlyn Road ran straight through the center of the town, but another heavily traveled highway came in from the south, too. Most villages were markets and gathering places for the farmers of the area, but there were few farmers to be seen here. Four Kings survived as a stopover for merchants’ wagon trains on their way to Caemlyn and to the mining towns in the Mountains of Mist beyond Baerlon, as well as the villages between. The southern road carried Lugard’s trade with the mines in the west; Lugarder merchants going to Caemlyn had a more direct route. The surrounding country held few farms, barely enough to feed themselves and the town, and everything in the village centered on the merchants and their wagons, the men who drove them and the laborers who loaded the goods.
Plots of bare earth, ground to dust, lay scattered through Four Kings, filled with wagons parked wheel to wheel and abandoned except for a few bored guards. Stables and horse-lots lined the streets, all of which were wide enough to allow wagons to pass and deeply rutted from too many wheels. There was no village green, and the children played in the ruts, dodging wagons and the curses of wagon drivers. Village women, their heads covered with scarves, kept their eyes down and walked quickly, sometimes followed by wagoneers’ comments that made Rand blush; even Mat gave a start at some of them. No woman stood gossiping over the fence with a neighbor. Drab wooden houses stood cheek by jowl, with only narrow alleys between and whitewash—where anyone had bothered to whitewash the weathered boards—faded as if it had not been freshened in years. Heavy shutters on the houses had not been open in so long that the hinges were solid lumps of rust. Noise hung over everything, clanging from blacksmiths, shouts from the wagon drivers, raucous laughter from the town’s inns.
Rand swung down from the back of a merchant’s canvas-topped wagon as they came abreast of a garishly painted inn, all greens and yellows that caught the eye from afar among the leaden houses. The line of wagons kept moving. None of the drivers even seemed to notice that he and Mat had gone; dusk was falling, and they all had their eyes on unhitching the horses and reaching the inns. Rand stumbled in a rut, then leaped quickly to avoid a heavy-laden wagon clattering the other way. The driver shouted a curse at him as the wagon rolled by. A village woman stepped around him and hurried on without ever meeting his eye.
“I don’t know about this place,” he said. He thought he could hear music mixed in the din, but he could not tell from where it was coming. From the inn, maybe, but it was hard to be sure. “I don’t like it. Maybe we’d better go on this time.”
Mat gave him a scornful look, then rolled his eyes at the sky. Dark clouds thickened overhead. “And sleep under a hedge tonight? In that? I’m used to a bed again.” He cocked his head to listen, then grunted. “Maybe one of these places doesn’t have musicians. Anyway, I’ll bet they don’t have a juggler.” He slung his bow across his shoulders and started for the bright yellow door, studying everything through narrowed eyes. Rand followed doubtfully.
There were musicians inside, their zither and drum almost drowned in coarse laughter and drunken shouting. Rand did not bother to find the landlord. The next two inns had musicians as well, and the same deafening cacophony. Roughly dressed men filled the tables and stumbled across the floor, waving mugs and trying to fondle serving maids who dodged with fixed, long-suffering smiles. The buildings shook with the racket, and the smell was sour, a stench of old wine and unwashed bodies. Of the merchants, in their silk and velvet and lace, there was no sign; private dining rooms abovestairs protected their ears and noses. He and Mat only put their heads in the doors before leaving. He was beginning to think they would have no choice but to move on.
The fourth inn, The Dancing Cartman, stood silent.
It was as gaudy as the other inns, yellow trimmed in bright red and bilious, eye-wrenching green, though here the paint was cracked and peeling. Rand and Mat stepped inside.
Only half a dozen men sat at the tables that filled the common room, hunched over their mugs, each one glumly alone with his thoughts. Business was definitely not good, but it had been better once. Exactly as many serving maids as there were patrons busied themselves around the room. There was plenty for them to do—dirt crusted the floor and cobwebs filled the corners of the ceiling—but most were not doing anything really useful, only moving so they would not be seen standing still.
A bony man with long, stringy hair to his shoulders turned to scowl at them as they came through the door. The first slow peal of thunder rumbled across Four Kings. “What do you want?” He was rubbing his hands on a greasy apron that hung to his ankles. Rand wondered if more grime was coming off on the apron or on the man’s hands. He was the first skinny innkeeper Rand had seen. “Well? Speak up, buy a drink, or get out!
Flushing, Rand launched into the spiel he had perfected at inns before this. “I play the flute, and my friend juggles, and you’ll not see two better in a year. For a good room and a good meal, we’ll fill this common room of yours.” He remembered the filled common rooms he had already seen that evening, especially the man who had vomited right in front of him at the last one. He had had to step lively to keep his boots untouched. He faltered, but caught himself and went on. “We’ll fill your inn with men who will repay the little we cost twenty times over with the food and drink they buy. Why should—”
“I’ve got a man plays the dulcimer,” the innkeeper said sourly.
“You have a drunk, Saml Hake,” one of the serving maids said. She was passing him with a tray and two mugs, and she paused to give Rand and Mat a plump smile. “Most times, he can’t see well enough to find the common room,” she confided in a loud whisper. “Haven’t even seen him in two days.”
Without taking his eyes off Rand and Mat, Hake casually backhanded her across the face. She gave a surprised grunt and fell heavily to the unwashed floor; one of the mugs broke, and the spilled wine washed rivulets in the dirt. “You’re docked for the wine and breakage. Get ’em fresh drinks. And hurry. Men don’t pay to wait while you laze around.” His tone was as offhand as the blow. None of the patrons looked up from their wine, and the other serving maids kept their eyes averted.
The plump woman rubbed her cheek and stared pure murder at Hake, but she gathered the empty mug and the broken pieces on her tray and went off without a word.
Hake sucked his teeth thoughtfully, eyeing Rand and Mat. His gaze clung to the heron-mark sword before he pulled it away. “Tell you what,” he said finally. “You can have a couple of pallets in an empty storeroom in the back. Rooms are too expensive to give away. You eat when everybody’s gone. There ought to be something left.”
Rand wished there was an inn in Four Kings they had not yet tried. Since leaving Whitebridge he had met coolness, indifference, and outright hostility, but nothing that gave him the sense of unease that this man and this village did. He told himself it was just the dirt and squalor and noise, but the misgivings did not go away. Mat was watching Hake as if he suspected some trap, but he gave no sign of wanting to give up The Dancing Cartman for a bed under a hedge. Thunder rattled the windows. Rand Sighed.
“The pallets will do if they’re clean, and if there are enough clean blankets. But we eat two hours after full dark, no later, and the best you have. Here. We’ll show you what we can do.” He reached for the flute case, but Hake shook his head.
“Don’t matter. This lot’ll be satisfied with any kind of screeching so long as it sounds something like music.” His eyes touched Rand’s sword again; his thin smile touched nothing but his lips.  He nodded over his shoulder at two hard-faced men sitting against the wall. They were not drinking, and their arms were thick enough for legs. When Hake nodded at them, their eyes shifted to Rand and Mat, flat and expressionless.
Rand put one hand on his sword hilt, hoping the twisting in his stomach did not show on his face. “As long as we get what’s agreed on,” he said in a level tone.
Hake blinked, and for a moment he seemed uneasy himself. Abruptly he nodded. “What I said, isn’t it? Well, get started.  He stalked off, scowling and shouting at the serving maids as if there were fifty customers they were neglecting.
There was a small, raised platform at the far end of the room, near the door to the back. Rand lifted a bench up on it, and settled his cloak, blanketroll, and Thom’s bundled cloak behind the bench with the sword lying atop them.
He wondered if he had been wise to keep wearing the sword openly. Swords were common enough, but the heron-mark attracted attention and speculation. Not from everybody, but any notice at all made him uncomfortable. He could be leaving a clear trail for the Myrddraal—if Fades needed that kind of trail. They did not seem to. In any case, he was reluctant to stop wearing it. Tam had given it to him. His father. As long as he wore the sword, there was still some connection between Tam and him, a thread that gave him the right to still call Tam father. Too late now, he thought. He was not sure what he meant, but he was sure it was true. Too late.
At the first note of “Cock o’ the North” the half-dozen patrons in the common room lifted their heads out of their wine. Even the two bouncers sat forward a little. They all applauded when he finished, including the two toughs, and once more when Mat sent a shower of colored balls spinning through his hands. Outside, the sky muttered again. The rain was holding off, but the pressure of it was palpable; the longer it waited, the harder it would fall.
Word spread, and by the time it was dark outside the inn was packed full with men laughing and talking so loud that Rand could barely hear what he was playing. Only the thunder overpowered the noise in the common room. Lightning flashed in the windows, and in the momentary lulls he could faintly hear rain drumming on the roof. Men who came in now dripped trails across the floor.
Whenever he paused, voices shouted the names of tunes through the din. A good many names he did not recognize, though when he got someone to hum a bit of it, he often found he did know the song. It had been that way other places, before. “Jolly Jaim” was “Rhea’s Fling” here, and had been “Colors of the Sun” at an earlier stop. Some names stayed the same; others changed with ten miles’ distance, and he had learned new songs, too. “The Drunken Peddler” was a new one, though sometimes it was called “Tinker in the Kitchen.” “Two Kings Came Hunting” was “Two Horses Running” and several other names besides. He played the ones he knew, and men pounded the tables for more.
Others called for Mat to juggle again. Sometimes fights broke out between those wanting music and those who fancied juggling. Once a knife flashed, and a woman screamed, and a man reeled back from a table with blood streaming down his face, but Jak and Strom, the two bouncers, closed in swiftly and with complete impartiality threw everyone involved into the street with lumps on their heads. That was their tactic with any trouble. The talk and the laughing went on as if nothing had occurred. Nobody even looked around except those the bouncers jostled on their way to the door.
The patrons were free with their hands, too, when one of the serving maids let herself grow unwary. More than once Jak or Strom had to rescue one of the women, though they were none too quick about it. The way Hake carried on, screaming and shaking the woman involved, he always considered it her fault, and the teary eyes and stammered apologies said she was willing to accept his opinion. The women jumped whenever Hake frowned, even if he was looking somewhere else. Rand wondered why any of them put up with it.
Hake smiled when he looked at Rand and Mat. After a while Rand realized Hake was not smiling at them; the smiles came when his eyes slid behind them, to where the heron-mark sword lay. Once, when Rand set the gold-and-silver-chased flute down beside his stool, the flute got a smile, too.
The next time he changed places with Mat at the front of the dais, he leaned over to speak in Mat’s ear. Even that close he had to speak loudly, but with all the noise he doubted if anyone else could hear. “Hake’s going to try to rob us.”
Mat nodded as if it was nothing he had not expected. “We’ll have to bar our door tonight.”
“Bar our door? Jak and Strom could break down a door with their fists. Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait till after we eat, at least. I’m hungry. They can’t do anything here,” Mat added. The packed common room shouted impatiently for them to get on with it. Hake was glaring at them. “Anyway, you want to sleep outside tonight?” An especially strong crack of lightning drowned out everything else, and for an instant the light through the windows was stronger than the lamps.
“I just want to get out without my head being broken,” Rand said, but Mat was already slouching back to take his rest on the stool. Rand sighed and launched into “The Road to Dun Aren.” A lot of them seemed to like that one; he had already played it four times, and they still shouted for it.
The trouble was that Mat was right, as far as he went. He was hungry, too. And he could not see how Hake could give them any trouble while the common room was full, and getting fuller. For every man who left or was thrown out by Jak and Strom, two came in from the street. They shouted for the juggling or for a particular tune, but mostly they were interested in drinking and fondling the serving maids. One man was different, though.
He stood out in every way among the crowd in The Dancing Cartman. Merchants apparently had no use for the run-down inn; there were not even any private dining rooms for them, as far as he could make out. The patrons were all rough-dressed, with the tough skin of men who labored in the sun and wind. This man was sleekly fleshy, with a soft look to his hands, and a velvet coat, and a dark green velvet cloak lined with blue silk was slung around his shoulders. All of his clothes had an expensive cut to them. His shoes—soft velvet slippers, not boots—were not made for the rutted streets of Four Kings, or for any streets at all, for that matter.
He came in well after dark, shaking the rain off his cloak as he looked around, a twist of distaste on his mouth. He scanned the room once, already turning to go, then suddenly gave a start at nothing Rand could see and sat down at a table Jak and Strom had just emptied. A serving maid stopped at his table, then brought him a mug of wine which he pushed to one side and never touched again. She seemed in a hurry to leave his table both times, though he did not try to touch her of even look at her. Whatever it was about him that made her uneasy, others who came close to him noticed it, too. For all of his soft look, whenever some callus-handed wagon driver decided to share his table, one glance was all it took to send the man looking elsewhere. He sat as if there were no one else in the room but him—and Rand and Mat. Them he watched over steepled hands that glittered with a ring on each finger. He watched them with a smile of satisfied recognition.
Rand murmured to Mat as they were changing places again, and Mat nodded. “I saw him,” he muttered. “Who is he? I keep thinking I know him.”
The same thought had occurred to Rand, tickling the back of his memory, but he could not bring it forward. Yet he was sure that face was one he had never seen before.
When they had been performing for two hours, as near as Rand could estimate, he slipped the flute into its case and he and Mat gathered up their belongings. As they were stepping down from the low platform, Hake came bustling up, anger twisting his narrow face.
“It’s time to eat,” Rand said to forestall him, “and we don’t want our things stolen. You want to tell the cook?” Hake hesitated, still angry, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes off what Rand held in his arms. Casually Rand shifted his bundles so he could rest one hand on the sword. “Or you can try throwing us out.” He made the emphasis deliberately, then added, “There’s a lot of night left for us to play, yet. We have to keep our strength up if we’re going to perform well enough to keep this crowd spending money. How long do you think this room will stay full if we fall over from hunger?”
 “Feed ’em!” he shouted. Rounding on Rand and Mat, he snarled, “Don’t be all night about it. I expect you up there till the last man’s gone.”
Some of the patrons were shouting for the musician and the juggler, and Hake turned to soothe them. The man in the velvet cloak was one of the anxious ones. Rand motioned Mat to follow him.
A stout door separated the kitchen from the front of the inn, and, except when it opened to let a serving maid through, the rain pounding the roof was louder in the kitchen than the shouts from the common room. It was a big room, hot and steamy from stoves and ovens, with a huge table covered with half-prepared food and dishes ready to be served.  They all glanced up as Rand and Mat came in, but it did not slow their conversation or stop their foot rubbing.
“We ought to get out of here while we have the chance,” Rand said softly, but Mat shook his head, his eyes fixed on the two plates the cook was filling with beef and potatoes and peas. She hardly looked at the two of them, keeping up her talk with the other women while she pushed things aside on the table with her elbows and set the plates down, adding forks.
“After we eat is time enough.” Mat slid onto a bench and began using his fork as if it were a shovel.
Rand sighed, but he was right behind Mat. He had had only a butt-end of bread to eat since the night before. His belly felt as empty as a beggar’s purse, and the cooking smells that filled the kitchen did not help. He quickly had his mouth full, though Mat was getting his plate refilled by the cook before he had finished half of his.
He did not mean to eavesdrop on the women’s talk, but some of the words reached out and grabbed him.
“Sounds crazy to me.”
“Crazy or not, it’s what I hear. He went to half the inns in town before he came here. Just walked in, looked around, and walked out without saying one word, even at the Royal Inn. Like it wasn’t raining at all.”
“Maybe he thought here was the most comfortable.” That brought gales of laughter.
“What I hear is he didn’t even get to Four Kings till after nightfall, and his horses blowing like they’d been pushed hard.”
“Where’d he come from, to get caught out after dark? Nobody but a fool or a madman travels anywhere and plans it that badly.”
“Well, maybe he’s a fool, but he’s a rich one. I hear he even has another carriage for his servants and baggage. There’s money there, mark my words. Did you see that cloak of his? I wouldn’t mind having that my ownself.”
“He’s a little plump for my taste, but I always say a man can’t be too fat if enough gold comes with it.”
Rand dropped his fork on his plate. A thought he did not like bubbled in his head. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said.
Rand picked up his sword belt along with his cloak as he stood, and buckled it around his waist on the way to the back door. No one paid him any mind.
The rain was bucketing down. He swung his cloak around his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head, holding the cloak closed as he trotted across the stableyard. A curtain of water hid everything except when lightning flashed, but he found what he was hunting. The horses had been taken into the stable, but the two black-lacquered carriages glistened wetly outside. Thunder grumbled, and a bolt of lightning streaked above the inn. In the brief burst of light he made out a name in gold script on the coach doors. Howal Gode.
Unmindful of the rain beating at him, he stood staring at the name he could no longer see. He remembered where he had last seen black-lacquered coaches with their owners’ names on the door, and sleek, overfed men in silk-lined velvet cloaks and velvet slippers. Whitebridge. A Whitebridge merchant could have a perfectly legitimate reason to be on his way to Caemlyn. A reason that sends him to half the inns in town before he chooses the one where you are? A reason that makes him look at you as if he’s found what he’s searching for?
Rand shivered, and suddenly he was aware of rain trickling down his back. His cloak was tightly woven, but it had never been meant to stand up to this kind of downpour. He hurried back to the inn, splashing through deepening puddles. Jak blocked the door as he started through.
“Well, well, well. Out here alone in the dark. Dark’s dangerous, boy.”
Rain slicked Rand’s hair down across his forehead. The stableyard was empty except for them. He wondered if Hake had decided he wanted the sword and the flute badly enough to forgo keeping the crowd in the common room.
Brushing water out of his eyes with one hand, he put the other on his sword. Even wet, the nobby leather made a sure grip for his fingers. “Has Hake decided all those men will stay just for his ale, instead of going where there’s entertainment, too? If he has, we’ll call the meal even for what we’ve done so far and be on our way.”
Dry in the doorway, the big man looked out at the rain and snorted. “In this?” His eyes slid down to Rand’s hand on the sword. “You know, me and Strom got a bet. He figures you stole that from your old grandmother. Me, I figure your grandmother’d kick you round the pigpen and hang you out to dry.” He grinned. His teeth were crooked and yellow, and the grin made him look even meaner. “Night’s long yet, boy.”

Inside, he tossed off his cloak and dropped on the bench at the table he had left only minutes before. Mat was done with his second plate and working on a third, eating more slowly now, but intently, as if he planned to finish every bite if it killed him. Jak took up a place by the door to the stableyard, leaning against the wall and watching them. Even the cook seemed to feel no urge to talk with him there.
“He’s from Whitebridge,” Rand said softly. There was no need to say who “he” was.  Conscious of Jak watching, Rand stirred the food on his plate. He could not have gotten a mouthful down if he had been starving, but he tried to pretend an interest in the peas as he told Mat about the carriages, and what the women had said, in case Mat had not been listening.
Obviously he had not been. Mat blinked in surprise and whistled between his teeth, then frowned at the meat on his fork and grunted as he tossed the fork onto his plate. Rand wished he would make at least an effort to be circumspect.
“After us,” Mat said when he finished. The creases in Mat’s forehead deepened. “A Darkfriend?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Rand glanced at Jak and the big man stretched elaborately, shrugging shoulders as big as any blacksmith’s. “Do you think we can get past him?”
“Not without him making enough noise to bring Hake and the other one. I knew we should never have stopped here.”
Rand gaped, but before he could say anything Hake pushed through the door from the common room. Strom bulked large over his shoulder.  “You going to eat all night?” Hake barked. “I didn’t feed you so you could lie around out here.”
Rand looked at his friend. Later, Mat mouthed, and they gathered their things under the watchful eyes of Hake, Strom, and Jak.
In the common room, cries for juggling and the names of tunes burst through the clamor as soon as Rand and Mat appeared. The man in the velvet cloak—Howal Gode—still appeared to ignore everyone around him, but he was nonetheless seated on the edge of his chair. At the sight of them he leaned back, the satisfied smile returning to his lips.
Rand took the first turn at the front of the dais, playing “Drawing Water From the Well” with only half his mind on it. No one seemed to notice the few wrong notes. He tried to think of how they were going to get away, and tried to avoid looking at Gode, too. If he was after them, there was no point in letting him know they knew it. As for getting away . . .
He had never realized before what a good trap an inn made. Hake, Jak, and Strom did not even have to keep a close eye on them; the crowd would let them know if he or Mat left the dais. As long as the common room was full of people, Hake could not send Jak and Strom after them, but as long as the common room was full of people they could not get away without Hake knowing. And Gode was watching their every move, too. It was so funny he would have laughed if he had not been on the point of throwing up. They would just have to be wary and wait their chance.
When he changed places with Mat, Rand groaned to himself. Mat glared at Hake, at Strom, at Jak, without a care to whether they noticed or wondered why. When he was not actually handling the balls, his hand rested under his coat. Rand hissed at him, but he paid no attention. If Hake saw that ruby, he might not wait until they were alone. If the men in the common room saw it, half of them might join in with Hake.
Worst of all, Mat stared at the Whitebridge merchant—the Darkfriend?—twice as hard as at anyone else, and Gode noticed. There was no way he could avoid noticing. But it did not disturb his aplomb is the least. His smile deepened, if anything, and he nodded to Mat as if to an old acquaintance, then looked at Rand and raised a questioning eyebrow. Rand did not want to know what the question was. He tried to avoid looking at the man, but he knew it was too late for that. Too late. Too late again.
Only one thing seemed to shake the velvet-cloaked man’s equilibrium. Rand’s sword. He had left it on. Two or three men staggered up to ask if he thought his playing was so bad that he needed protection, but none of them had noticed the heron on the hilt. Gode noticed. His pale hands clenched, and he frowned at the sword for a long time before his smile came back. When it did, it was not as sure as before.
One good thing, at least, Rand thought. If he believes I can live up to the heron-mark, maybe he’ll leave us alone. Then all we have to worry about is Hake and his bullies. It was hardly a comforting thought, and, sword or no sword, Gode kept watching. And smiling.
To Rand the night seemed to last a year. All those eyes looking at him: Hake and Jak and Strom like vultures watching a sheep caught in a bog, Gode waiting like something even worse. He began to think that everybody in the room was watching with some hidden motive.  The crash of the thunder seemed to be inside his skull. Weariness hung on him like an iron weight.
Eventually the need to be up with the dawn began to pull men reluctantly out into the dark. A farmer had only himself to answer to, but merchants were notoriously unfeeling about hangovers when they were paying drivers’ wages. In the small hours the common room slowly emptied as even those who had rooms abovestairs staggered off to find their beds.
Gode was the last patron. When Rand reached for the leather flute case, yawning, Gode stood up and slung his cloak over his arm. The serving maids were cleaning up, muttering among themselves about the mess of spilled wine and broken crockery. Hake was locking the front door with a big key. Gode cornered Hake for a moment, and Hake called one of the women to show him to a room. The velvet-cloaked man gave Mat and Rand a knowing smile before he disappeared upstairs.
Hake was looking at Rand and Mat. Jak and Strom stood at his shoulders.
Rand hastily finished hanging his things from his shoulders, holding them all awkwardly behind him with his left hand so he could reach his sword. He made no move toward it, but he wanted to know it was ready. He suppressed a yawn; how tired he was, was something they should not know.
Mat shouldered his bow and his few other belongings awkwardly, but he put his hand under his coat as he watched Hake and his toughs approach.
Hake was carrying an oil lamp, and to Rand’s surprise he gave a little bow and gestured to a side door with it. “Your pallets are this way.”
Mat thrust his chin out at Jak and Strom. “You need those two to show us our beds?”
“I’m a man of property,” Hake said, smoothing the front of his soiled apron, “and men of property can’t be too careful.” A crash of thunder rattled the windows, and he glanced significantly at the ceiling, then gave them a toothy grin. “You want to see your beds or not?”
Rand wondered what would happen if he said they wanted to leave. If you really did know more about using a sword than the few exercises Lan showed you . . . “Lead the way,” he said, trying to make his voice hard. “I don’t like having anybody behind me.”
Strom snickered, but Hake nodded placidly and turned toward the side door, and the two big men swaggered after him. Taking a deep breath, Rand gave a wishful glance at the door to the kitchen. If Hake had already locked the back door, running now would only begin what he was hoping to avoid. He followed the innkeeper glumly.
At the side door he hesitated, and Mat crowded into his back. The reason for Hake’s lamp was apparent. The door let into a hall as black as pitch. Only the lamp Hake carried, silhouetting Jak and Strom, gave him the courage to keep on. If they turned, he would know it. And do what? The floor creaked under his boots.
The hall ended in a rough, unpainted door. He had not seen if there were any other doors along the way. Hake and his bullies went through, and he followed quickly, before they could have a chance to set a trap, but Hake merely lifted the lamp high and gestured at the room.
“Here it is.”
An old storeroom, he had called it, and by the look of it not used in some time. Weathered barrels and broken crates filled half the floor. Steady drips fell from more than one place on the ceiling, and a broken pane in the filthy window let the rain blow in freely. Unidentifiable odds and ends littered the shelves, and thick dust covered almost everything. The presence of the promised pallets was a surprise.
The sword makes him nervous. He won’t try anything until we’re sound asleep. Rand had no intention of sleeping under Hake’s roof. As soon as the innkeeper left, he intended to be out the window. “It’ll do,” he said. He kept his eyes on Hake, wary for a signal to the two grinning men at the innkeeper’s side. It was an effort not to wet his lips. “Leave the lamp.”
Hake grunted, but pushed the lamp onto a shelf. He hesitated, looking at them, and Rand was sure he was about to give the word for Jak and Strom to jump them, but his eyes went to Rand’s sword with a calculating frown, and he jerked his head at the two big men. Surprise flashed across their broad faces, but they followed him out of the room without a backward glance.
Rand waited for the creak-creak-creak of their footsteps to fade away, then counted to fifty before sticking his head into the hall. The blackness was broken only by a rectangle of light that seemed as distant as the moon: the door to the common room. As he pulled his head in, something big moved in the darkness near the far door. Jak or Strom, standing guard.
A quick examination of the door told him all he needed to know, little of it good. The boards were thick and stout, but there was no lock, and no bar on the inside. It did open into the room, though.
“I thought they were going for us,” Mat said. “What are they waiting for?” He had the dagger out, gripped in a white-knuckled fist. Lamplight flickered on the blade. His bow and quiver lay forgotten on the floor.
“For us to go to sleep.” Rand started rummaging through the barrels and crates. “Help me find something to block the door.”
“Why? You don’t really intend to sleep here, do you? Let’s get out the window and gone. I’d rather be wet than dead.”
“One of them is at the end of the hall. We make any noise, and they’ll be down on us before we can blink. I think Hake would rather face us awake than risk letting us get away.”
Muttering, Mat joined his search, but there was nothing useful in any of the litter on the floor. The barrels were empty, the crates splintered, and the whole lot of them piled in front of the door would not stop anyone from opening it. Then something familiar on a shelf caught Rand’s eye. Two splitting wedges, covered with rust and dust. He took them down with a grin.
Hastily he shoved them under the door and, when the next roll of thunder rattled the inn, drove them in with two quick kicks of his heel. The thunder faded, and he held his breath, listening. All he heard was the rain pounding on the roof. No floorboards creaking under running feet.
“The window,” he said.
It had not been opened in years, from the dirt crusted around it. They strained together, pushing up with all their might. Rand’s knees wobbled before the sash budged; it groaned with each reluctant inch. When the opening was wide enough for them to slip through, he crouched, then stopped.
“Blood and ashes!” Mat growled. “No wonder Hake wasn’t worried about us slipping out.”
Iron bars in an iron frame glistened wetly in the light from the lamp. Rand pushed at them; they were as solid as a boulder.
“I saw something,” Mat said. He pawed hurriedly through the litter on the shelves and came back with a rusty crowbar. He rammed the end of it under the iron frame on one side, and Rand winced.
“Remember the noise, Mat.”
Mat grimaced and muttered under his breath, but he waited. Rand put his hands on the crowbar and tried to find good footing in the growing puddle of water under the window. Thunder rolled and they heaved. With a tortured squeal of nails that made the hairs lift on Rand’s neck, the frame shifted—a quarter of an inch, if that. Timing themselves to peals of thunder and lightning cracks, they heaved on the crowbar again and again. Nothing. A quarter of an inch. Nothing. A hairsbreadth. Nothing. Nothing.
Suddenly Rand’s feet slipped in the water, and they crashed to the floor. The crowbar clattered against the bars like a gong. He lay in a puddle holding his breath and listening. Silence but for the rain.
Mat nursed bruised knuckles and glared at him. “We’ll never get out at this rate.” The iron frame was pushed out from the window not quite far enough to get two fingers under it. Dozens of thick nails crossed the narrow opening.
“We just have to keep trying,” Rand said, getting up. But as he set the crowbar under the edge of the frame, the door creaked as someone tried to open it. The splitting wedges held it shut. He exchanged a worried look with Mat. Mat pulled the dagger out again. The door gave another screak.
Rand took a deep breath and tried to make his voice steady. “Go away, Hake. We’re trying to sleep.”
“I fear you mistake me.” The voice was so sleek and full of itself that it named its owner. Howal Gode. “Master Hake and his . . . minions will not trouble us. They sleep soundly, and in the morning they will only be able to wonder where you vanished to. Let me in, my young friends. We must talk.”
“We don’t have anything to talk to you about,” Mat said. “Go away and let us sleep.”
Gode’s chuckle was nasty. “Of course we have things to talk about. You know that as well as I. I saw it in your eyes. I know what you are, perhaps better than you do. I can feel it coming from you in waves. Already you halfway belong to my master. Stop running and accept it. Things will be so much easier for you. If the Tar Valon hags find you, you’ll wish you could cut your own throat before they are done, but you won’t be able to. Only my master can protect you from them.”
Rand swallowed hard. “We don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave us alone.” The floorboards in the hall squeaked. Gode was not alone. How many men could he have brought in two carriages?
“Stop being foolish, my young friends. You know. You know very well. The Great Lord of the Dark has marked you for his own. It is written that when he awakes, the new Dreadlords will be there to praise him. You must be two of them, else I would not have been sent to find you. Think of it. Life everlasting, and power beyond dreams.” His voice was thick with hunger for that power himself.
Rand glanced back at the window just as lightning split the sky, and he almost groaned. The brief flash of light showed men outside, men ignoring the rain that drenched them as they stood watching the window.
“I tire of this,” Gode announced. “You will submit to my master—to your master—or you will be made to submit. That would not be pleasant for you. The Great Lord of the Dark rules death, and he can give life in death or death in life as he chooses. Open this door. One way or another, your running is at an end. Open it, I say!”
He must have said something else, too, for suddenly a heavy body thudded against the door. It shivered, and the wedges slid a fraction of an inch with a grate of rust rubbing off on wood. Again and again the door trembled as bodies hurled themselves at it. Sometimes the wedges held; sometimes they slid another tiny bit, and bit by tiny bit the door crept inexorably inward.
“Submit,” Gode demanded from the hall, “or spend eternity wishing that you had!”
“If we don’t have any choice—” Mat licked his lips under Rand’s stare.  “We could say yes, and then get away later. Blood and ashes, Rand, there’s no way out!”
The words seemed to drift to Rand through wool stuffed in his ears. No way out. Thunder muttered overhead, and was drowned in a slash of lightning. Have to find a way out. Gode called to them, demanding, appealing; the door slid another inch toward being open. A way out!
Light filled the room, flooding vision; the air roared and burned. Rand felt himself picked up and dashed against the wall. He slid down in a heap, ears ringing and every hair on his body trying to stand on end. Dazed, he staggered to his feet. His knees wobbled, and he put a hand against the wall to steady himself. He looked around in amazement.
The lamp, lying on its side on the edge of one of the few shelves still clinging to the walls, still burned and gave light. All the barrels and crates, some blackened and smoldering, lay toppled where they had been hurled. The window, bars and all, and most of the wall, too, had vanished, leaving a splintered hole. The roof sagged, and tendrils of smoke fought the rain around the jagged edges of the opening. The door hung off its hinges, jammed in the doorframe at an angle slanting into the hall.
With a feeling of woozy unreality he stood the lamp up. It seemed the most important thing in the world was making sure it did not break.
A pile of crates suddenly heaved apart, and Mat stood up in the middle of it. He weaved on his feet, blinking and fumbling at himself as if wondering if everything was still attached. He peered toward Rand. “Rand? Is that you? You’re alive. I thought we were both—” He broke off, biting his lip and shaking. It took Rand a moment to realize he was laughing, and on the edge of hysteria.
“What happened, Mat? Mat? Mat! What happened?”
One last shiver wracked Mat, and then he was still. “Lightning, Rand. I was looking right at the window when it hit the bars. Lightning. I can’t see worth—” He broke off, squinting at the aslant door, and his voice went sharp. “Where’s Gode?”
Nothing moved in the dark corridor beyond the door. Of Gode and his companions there was neither sign nor sound, though anything could have lain in the blackness. Rand found himself hoping they were dead, but he would not have put his head into the hall to find out for sure if he had been offered a crown. Nothing moved out in the night beyond where the wall had been, either, but others were up and about. Confused shouts came from abovestairs in the inn, and the pounding of running feet.
“Let’s go while we can,” Rand said.
Hastily helping separate their belongings from the rubble, he grabbed Mat’s arm and half pulled, half guided his friend through the gaping hole into the night. Mat clutched his arm, stumbling beside him with his head pushed forward in an effort to see.
As the first rain hit Rand’s face, lightning forked above the inn, and he came to a convulsive stop. Gode’s men were still there, lying with their feet toward the opening. Pelted by the rain, their open eyes stared at the sky.
“What is it?” Mat asked. “Blood and ashes! I can hardly see my own bloody hand!”
“Nothing,” Rand said. Luck. The Light’s own . . . Is it? Shivering, he carefully guided Mat around the bodies. “Just the lightning.”
There was no light save the lightning, and he stumbled in the ruts as they ran staggering away from the inn. With Mat almost hanging on him, every stumble almost pulled them both down, but tottering, panting, they ran.
Once he looked back. Once, before the rain thickened to a deafening curtain that blotted The Dancing Cartman from sight. Lightning silhouetted the figure of a man at the back of the inn, a man shaking his fist at them, or at the sky. Gode or Hake, he did not know, but either one was as bad as the other. The rain came in a deluge, isolating them in a wall of water. He hurried through the night, listening through the roar of the storm for the sound of pursuit.


Amol Dhumal
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INSOMNIA (Norsk Filminstitutt, Nordic Screen Production A/S, Norsk Film A/S)
Certification: 15 Genre: Thriller Cast: Stellan Skarsgård, Sverre Anker Ousdal, Bjørn Floberg Directed by Erik Skjoldbjærg
My personal rating: 4+ out of 6
INSOMNIA is the typical psychological thriller where someone did something very bad, and is haunted by the deed.
A young girl has been murdered, and two homicide detectives, Jonas Engström (Skarsgård) and Erik Vik (Ousdal), are sent to conduct an investigation. Later on, the detectives discover a cabin where the suspect might be hiding. A fog covers the area, and during the operation one of the detectives shoot and kill the other by mistake. The local police believes that the suspect was responsible, and the remaining detective must do whatever he can to support that theory. But sinners don't sleep ...
INSOMNIA is Skjoldbjærg's first directing job, and he does it quite well. The scenes are eerie, the psychological aspect is always with us, and the pacing of the movie is excellent. However, we sometimes find it difficult to fully understand what is going on. This is not a movie where one can ask a lot of questions; way enough trouble attempting to figure out what is happening, rather than why.
The actors perform with great panache; there is nothing much to discuss there. Skarsgård has recently appeared in GOOD WILL HUNTING and AMISTAD. He certainly carries some creepiness and depth of character with him whereever he goes.
INSOMNIA is a tense and mildly violent thriller, and it does well in the genre. I rate it 4+ out of 6.
Reviewed by Stian M. Landgaard, March 31st, 1998
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How to use the My Calls Archive
Overview
The My Calls Archive area of the UKCloud Portal provides access to older tickets raised using the previous version of My Calls.
Important
To raise new support tickets you must use the new My Calls.
Intended audience
This guide is intended for any UKCloud Portal user who wants to use the My Calls Archive to monitor older support tickets. To complete the steps in this guide you must have access to the UKCloud Portal with the appropriate Portal permissions for Support. The tasks you can perform will depend on the level of permissions you have.
| Read | Update | All | |
|---|---|---|---|
| User Support Tickets | View your own support tickets | Update your own support tickets | All Read and Update privileges on your own tickets |
| Account Support Tickets | View all tickets logged by users across the account | Update any support ticket across the account | All Read and Update privileges on tickets across the account |
Accessing the My Calls Archive
Log in to the UKCloud Portal.
For more detailed instructions, see the Getting Started Guide for the UKCloud Portal.
In the Portal navigation panel, expand the Support option and select My Calls Archive.
The My Calls tab is divided into two further tabs:
Your Calls lists all the support tickets (incident reports and service requests) that you have raised.
Account Calls lists all the support tickets that have been raised against the current customer account
By default, each tab lists 10 tickets per page. Use the Show entries list to display more tickets (up to 100 per page) if you prefer.
You can use the Search field to search for a specific ticket.
Monitoring an existing support ticket
You can view old support ticket to monitor progress, add more information, subscribe to notifications, add attachments or cancel the ticket.
Note
The actions you can perform on a ticket depend on your Support permissions.
In the My Calls Archive, find the ticket you want to view either by browsing through the list of tickets or using the Search field.
Next to the ticket, click the View button.
The resulting page lists all details for the ticket, including status, priority and any associated change requests, updates or attached files.
If the ticket was created by someone else, you can click the Subscribe button to receive email notifications when the ticket is updated.
Note
You're automatically subscribed to any tickets that you create.
To change ownership of the ticket, click the Change button, select the new owner from the list and then click Update.
To add further details to the ticket, in the Add update section, enter text in the Description field and click Add.
To attach a file to the ticket, in the Attachments section, click Choose files, select up to five files and then click Upload.
To cancel a ticket, select Cancel this Service Request from the Actions tab then click Yes in the confirmation dialog box.
Next steps
For more information about what you can do in the UKCloud Portal, see the Getting Started Guide for the UKCloud Portal.
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If you find an issue with this article, click Improve this Doc to suggest a change. If you have an idea for how we could improve any of our services, visit the Ideas section of the UKCloud Community.


The world is on fire, and we want to ask you: WWAGD? Whether you're a resident or a representative, use PlanIt to start your journey of green technology discovery. There's a lot of information out there and we want to help you interpret it.
To fully utilize this program, an access code must first be obtained granting access to the data. Follow the link below and enter the appropriate information to get an API key:
The National Renewable Energy Laboratory (NREL)Hold onto this key, you will need it when you start using the PlanIt application.
After navigating back to the homepage, feel free to explore the home screen. Hovering over each state capitol will give you our best estimate of how much energy a single wind turbine or a single solar panel will provide in that geographic region. When you're ready, click the "Build your PlanIt" option at the top of the homepage. This will bring you to a new page where you will be prompted to select, from a drop-down list, your use-case: government or resident.
I. Government OptionFirst, we ask that you select your state from the drop down menu. Unfortunately, Hawaii and Alaska are not covered in the database yet.
You should then enter your city or town name. We ask that you enter the city or town name with the appropriate capitalizations and refrain from using abbreviation as these will not be recognized by the database.
Correct: Los Angeles
Incorrect: LA
Optionally, you can input your energy percentage goal. Not every city or town is ready for complete conversion to renewables, so feel free to enter anywhere from 1-100%.
As a government or township entity, we want to know how much land you can dedicate to installing wind turbines and solar panels. You'll be able to explore options of various combinations of wind turbines and solar panels, but first we ask that you enter how much land could be used as wind and/or solar farms (input should be in units of km2).
Finally, you are required to enter your API key from the NREL website in order to access the data to complete the calculation.
When you are done entering the required (and optional) information, please wait while the application takes into account your geographic resources, energy goals, and more.
The final screen will be a chart that allows for an exploration of our recommendations. You'll notice that you can hover your cursor over the chart to see the cost of certain turbine and panel combinations and how well that specific combination achieves your goal in a percentage. Note the red line running diagonally through the chart, this indicates land availability restrictions. Anything above and to the right is realistically impossible given the land availability. However, feel free to explore the options in that part of the chart to establish context for the recommended combinations.
II. Residential OptionSimilar to the government option, we ask that you select your state from the dropdown menu (only those states within the continuous 48 will work) and input your city or town.
Next, we want to know your household occupancy, this will help use predict your monthly energy usage. Single residents to community living scenarios are welcome!
If you would like a more exact result, you can input your monthly energy usage in kWh (this is entirely optional). Monthly energy usage can be found on your latest electricity bill. We ask that you ensure this value is for a single month's use (not two months or longer). However, if you cannot provide that at this time or if you're just exploring, we will estimate your residential energy use ourselves!
Another optional input is your energy goal percentage. We will assume you want to convert 100% of your energy use to be sourced from renewables, but we know that's not always realistic! Feel free to input anywhere from 1-100%.
Finally, to complete the calculation, you must enter your API key from the NREL website granting you access the database used in these calculations.
The results page will detail the expected energy output covered by renewables, how many solar panels we recommend you install, and the cost of that installation. However, we know that number of solar panels and cost can be prohibitive! From our research, an average rooftop can accommodate 25 solar panels. With this in mind, we also provide how much energy 25 panels would provide in your area, what percentage of your energy conversion goal that achieves, and the cost of that installation.
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Mom Makes Ultimate Crochet Halloween Costumes for Her Kids
Stephanie Pokorny never thought her crochet designs would go viral, but every Halloween she simply continues to out-BOO herself! Visit her Instagram @crochetverse for more!
Stephanie Pokorny never thought her crochet designs would go viral, but every Halloween she simply continues to out-BOO herself! Visit her Instagram @crochetverse for more!


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