You aren't learning if you aren't doing
One of the most exciting things about being involved with the web is that new technologies are emerging all the time.  If a developer is to remain competitive, pioneering and most importantly, in a job, then learning must be a core part of her career.
But learning purely to avoid atrophy won’t ever help you achieve a demonstrably useful level in a new skill. Even wanting to learn isn’t enough. If the onus is entirely on self-motivation and the intrinsic rewards of bettering oneself to sustain interest, then for most of us it will be a short-lived venture every time. We must have a need to learn – an environment with real demands and a place to immediately put fresh knowledge to task – not just a sandbox that will never see the light of day.
In other words, we must create a knowledge vacuum, not simply crowbar more information into an already overloaded brain.
Necessity is the mother of learning
Case in point – I’ve been learning Rails, or rather intending to learn Rails, on and off for longer than I care to say. I’m still entirely incompetent because, although the framework excites me, until recently I haven’t the incentive of seeing it solve real need. Only when I thought up an idea for a real-world Rails app did I really start to ramp up the learning process.
There are, of course, countless Rails books and tutorials that would have walked me through building a Twitter clone or an event ticketing website or whatever else, and I would undoubtedly have learned a lot along the way. But this mindset is wrong for two reasons:
1) What you’re building is dull and, more importantly, not real. Any good teacher will tell you that the key to engaging students is to present the subject matter in a relevant and exciting way.
2) It’s information that is, at the immediate time of learning, redundant. That means that you’re less likely to retain that information and you don’t really have any real-world understanding of how to apply it.
Compare this to starting with an idea and learning as you build. You have both the ongoing rewards of solving your own problems and the stronger contextual factors that will aid your memory further down the line.
Of course, you’d be going about things in a very backwards manner if you were to learn something from scratch armed with nothing more than a blank text file and Stack Overflow, and anyone who were to do follow such an ad-hoc methodology would probably turn out to be a worse than useless programmer. But when you’re plodding your way through your Codecademy tutorials and Youtube screencasts, it undeniably helps to at least have an idea in the back of your mind as to how you will apply your newfound knowledge to something you actually care about.
Rack your brains for something to build that will benefit you, or look for ways to use emergent technology to improve projects you already work on. Think of it this way, which of the following sentences excites you more: “I’m learning Node.js” or “I’m building a kickass web app with Node.js that will let me easily calculate how much petrol money I save each week by cycling”? (You can have that idea for free, internet. You’re welcome).
Learning is a vital part of keeping your mind active and your career chops honed, but ultimately it’s street smarts, real world application of knowledge, that will help you the most and spur you to keep learning. Invest your learning time in doing and you will, without even realising, be absorbing the skills to tackle real situations you will face in the field.


{% extends "_post.html" %}
{% load webdesign %}
{% hyde
title: Paul Querna about Cast and our journey with Node.js this Thursday at NodeConf
created: 2011-05-03
%}
{% block article %}
{% article %}
{% excerpt %}
[Paul Querna](http://journal.paul.querna.org/), one of the Cast developers and Node contributors will be giving a talk about Cast and our journey with NodeJS on Thursday May 5th at [NodeConf](http://nodeconf.com/) in Portland, Oregon.
Come and join him if you would like to get more familiar with Cast and find out what obstacles we have encountered while developing Cast and how we handled them.
Paul will also be available for questions, suggestions and feedback after the talk.
{% endexcerpt %}
{% endarticle %}
{% endblock %}


Constructs a Task and associates a computation to it. The computation is executed every time the Task is ran, and should provide the result of the task: a success or failure along with its value.
This API is still experimental, so it may change or be removed in future versions. You should not rely on it for production applications.
forall value, reason:
(
({
resolve: (value) => Void,
reject: (reason) => Void,
cancel: () => Void,
cleanup: (() => Void) => Void,
onCancelled: (() => Void) => Void,
get isCancelled: Boolean
}) => Void
) => Task reason value
Constructs a Task and associates a computation to it. The computation is executed every time the Task is ran, and should provide the result of the task: a success or failure along with its value.
A computation is required. For task, this is a function that receives one argument, the resolver, and does some work that may be asynchronous. Once done, the computation uses the resolver to resolve()
a task succesfully, or reject()
it with an error.
Asynchronous computations that allocate some external resource (for example, starting an HTTP request) can provide a cleanup function. The cleanup
function will be called with the resources returned, and will have the chance of disposing of them properly once the Task is finished, either properly, as a success or rejection, or eagerly, as a cancellation.
Optionally, a Task may provide an onCancelled
function that will be called if the Task is cancelled, before the cleanup.
const { task } = require('folktale/concurrency/task');
A simple, successful task:
const hello = task(resolver => resolver.resolve('hello'));
const result1 = await hello.run().promise();
$ASSERT(result1 == 'hello');
A simple, failed task:
const nope = task(resolver => resolver.reject('hello'));
try {
await nope.run().promise();
throw 'never happens';
} catch (error) {
$ASSERT(error == 'hello');
}
An asynchronous task that allocates and frees resources:
const delay50 = task(
resolver => {
const timerId = setTimeout(() => resolver.resolve('yay'), 50);
resolver.cleanup(() => {
clearTimeout(timerId);
});
}
);
const result2 = await delay50.run().promise();
$ASSERT(result2 == 'yay');
A task with a cancellation handler:
let resolved = false;
const cancelMe = task(
resolver => {
const timerId = setTimeout(() => {
resolved = true;
resolver.resolve('yay');
}, 50);
resolver.cleanup(() => {
clearTimeout(timerId);
});
resolver.onCancelled(() => {
/* task was cancelled */
});
}
);
try {
const execution = cancelMe.run();
execution.cancel();
const result3 = await execution.promise();
throw 'never happens';
} catch (error) {
$ASSERT(resolved == false);
}
(computation) =>
new Task(computation)


{% extends 'partials/base.html' %} {% load static %} {% block body %} {{teacher}} About {{teacher}} You can reach {{teacher.first_name}} via the email: {{teacher.email}}. Sometimes it may be faster to dial {{teacher.phone_no}}. If these two options fail, you can knock on their door at room {{teacher.room_no}}. Gallery Subjects taught {% for subject in teacher.subjects_taught.all %} {{subject.name}} {% endfor %} {% endblock body %}
You can reach {{teacher.first_name}} via the email: {{teacher.email}}. Sometimes it may be faster to dial {{teacher.phone_no}}. If these two options fail, you can knock on their door at room {{teacher.room_no}}.


|
x,y,width,height - Initial shape of the listbox gadget
group - A valid group gadget handle |
|
CreateListBox creates a listbox gadget and returns its handle.
Listbox gadgets allow you to present a list of items to the user, and allow the user to select items within the list. Listbox gadgets generate a gadget action event when the user changes the currently selected item. |


Preparation time
less than 30 mins
Cooking time
over 2 hours
Serves
Serves 10
So many people cook a gammon at Christmas time, but don’t think to cook it for any other occasion. I think it makes a lovely summer Sunday lunch served hot or cold with this spicy apricot chutney.
Preheat the oven to 160C/325F/Gas 3 (140C fan).
Place the gammon in a deep saucepan that it just fits, add the bay leaves, onion and peppercorns. Add enough water to cover the gammon, then bring to the boil and cover with a lid. Transfer to the preheated oven and cook for about two hours, or until tender.
Increase the oven temperature to 220C/425F/Gas 7 (200C fan).
 Place the gammon in a small roasting tin.
Mix the glaze ingredients together and pour over the layer of fat. Score the fat into diamond shapes and roast for about 20-25 minutes, or until golden-brown, basting halfway through the cooking time.
While the gammon is cooking you can make the chutney. Heat the oil in a medium sized pan and fry the onions over a low heat until really tender and transparent but not browned. Add all the remaining ingredients, bring to the boil, then simmer for about 10 minutes, or until the apricots have softened and everything is soft and pulpy.
Serve the chutney hot or cold. If cold, spoon into sterilised jars, label and seal the top.


Egwene stumbled, flinging her arms around Mist’s neck as the ground tilted under her feet. All about her, Aiel contended with braying, sliding pack mules on a steep rocky slope where nothing grew. Heat remembered from Tel’aran’rhiod hammered her. The air shimmered before her eyes: the ground burned her feet through the soles of her shoes. Her skin prickled painfully for a moment, then sweat gushed from every pore. It only dampened her dress, and the sweat seemed to evaporate immediately.
The struggling mules and tall Aiel nearly hid the surroundings from her, but she saw a bit in flashes between them. A thick gray stone column angled out of the ground not three paces from her, scoured by windblown sand until there was no telling whether it had ever been twin to the Portal Stone in Tear. Rugged slab-sided mountains that looked carved by a mad giant’s axe broiled beneath a blazing sun in a cloudless sky. Yet in the center of the long, barren valley far below, a mass of dense fog hung, billowing like clouds; that scalding sun should surely have burned it off in moments, but the fog rolled untouched. And out of that roiling gray stuck the tops of towers, some spired, some ending abruptly as though the masons still worked.
“He was right,” she murmured to herself. “A city in clouds.”
Clutching his gelding’s bridle, Mat was staring around wide eyed. “We made it!” He laughed at her. “We made it, Egwene, and without any . . . Burn me, we made it!” He tugged open his shirt laces at the neck. “Light, it’s hot. Burn me for true!”
Abruptly she realized Rand was on his knees, head down, supporting himself with one hand on the ground. Pulling her mare behind her, she pushed through the milling Aiel to him just as Lan helped him to his feet. Moiraine was already there, studying Rand with apparent calm—and the slight tightness at the corners of her mouth that meant she would like to box his ears.
“I did it,” Rand panted, looking around. The Warder was all that was holding him upright; his face was drained and drawn, like a man on his deathbed.
“You came close,” Moiraine said coolly. Very coolly. “The angreal was not sufficient to the task. You must not do this again. If you take chances, they must be reasoned and for a strong purpose. They must be.”
“I don’t take chances, Moiraine. Mat’s the fellow for chances.” Rand forced his right hand open; the angreal, the fat little man, had driven the point of its sword into his flesh, right into the branded heron. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did need one a little stronger.  ” He gave a huffing laugh. “It worked, Moiraine. That is what’s important. I’ve outrun them all. It worked.”
“That is what matters,” Lan said, nodding.
Egwene made a vexed tsk. Men. One almost killed himself, then tried to make a joke of it, and another told him he had done the right thing. Did they never grow up?
“The fatigue of channeling is not like other tiredness,” Moiraine said. “I cannot rid you of it completely, not when you have channeled as much as you did, but I will do what I can. Perhaps what remains will remind you to be more careful in future.” She was angry; there was a definite hint of satisfaction in her voice.
The glow of saidar surrounded the Aes Sedai as she reached up to take Rand’s head in her hands. A shuddering gasp burst out of him, and he shivered uncontrollably, then jerked back from her, pulling free of Lan as well.
“Ask, Moiraine,” Rand said coldly, stuffing the angreal into his belt pouch. “Ask, first.  He scrubbed his hands together to rub away the tiny trickle of blood.
Egwene made that vexed sound again. Childish, and ungrateful to boot. He could stand by himself now, though his eyes still looked weary, and she did not have to see his palm to know the tiny puncture was gone as if it had never been. Purely ungrateful. Surprisingly, Lan did not call him down for speaking to Moiraine in that fashion.
It came to her that the Aiel had gone absolutely still now that they had the mules quieted. They stared outward warily, not toward the valley and the fog shrouded city that must be Rhuidean, but at two camps, one to either side of them perhaps half a mile away. The two clusters of dozens upon dozens of low, open-sided tents, one twice as large as the other, clung to the mountain slope and very nearly disappeared against it, but the gray-brown Aiel in each camp were clearly visible, short spears and arrow-nocked horn bows in hand, veiling themselves if they were not already.
“The peace of Rhuidean,” a woman’s voice called from upslope, and Egwene could feel the tension leaving the Aiel surrounding her. Those among the tents began lowering their veils, though they still watched cautiously.
There was a third, much smaller encampment farther up the mountain, she realized, a few of the low tents on a small level patch. Four women were walking down from that camp, sedate and dignified in dark bulky skirts and loose white blouses, with brown or gray shawls around their shoulders despite heat that was beginning to make Egwene feel light headed, and many necklaces and bracelets of ivory and gold. Two had white hair, one hair the color of the sun, flowing down their backs to the waist and held back from their faces by folded kerchiefs tied around the forehead.
Egwene recognized one of the white haired women: Amys, the Wise One she had met in Tel’aran’rhiod. Again she was struck by the contrast between Amys’s sun-darkened features and her snowy hair; the Wise One just did not look old enough. The second white-haired woman had a creased grandmotherly face, and one of the others, with gray-streaked dark hair, seemed almost as old. She was sure all four were Wise Ones, very likely the same who had signed that letter to Moiraine.
The Aiel women stopped ten paces upslope from the gathering around the Portal Stone and the grandmotherly woman spread her open hands, speaking in an aged yet powerful voice.  Who comes to Chaendaer may return to their holds in peace. There shall be no blood on the ground.”
With that the Aiel from Tear began to separate, quickly apportioning the pack animals and the contents of the hampers. They were not dividing by societies now; Egwene saw Maidens going with several groups, some of which immediately began making their way around the mountain, avoiding each other and the camps, peace of Rhuidean or no. Others strode toward one or the other large cluster of tents, where finally weapons were being put down.
Not everyone had been sure of the peace of Rhuidean. Lan released the hilt of his still-sheathed sword, although Egwene had not seen him put his hands on it, and Mat hastily slipped a pair of knives back into his sleeves. Rand stood with his thumbs tucked behind his belt, but there was clear relief in his eyes.
Egwene looked for Aviendha, to ask a few questions before she approached Amys. Surely the Aiel woman would be a little more forthcoming about the Wise Ones here, in her own land. She spotted the Maiden, carrying a large clinking jute sack, and two rolled wall hangings over her shoulder, as she started briskly for one of the big encampments.
“You will stay, Aviendha,” the Wise One with gray streaks in her hair said loudly. Aviendha stopped in her tracks, not looking at anyone.
Egwene started to go to her, but Moiraine murmured, “Best not to interfere. I doubt she will want sympathy, or see anything else if you offer it.”
Egwene nodded in spite of herself. Aviendha did look as if she wanted to be left alone. What did the Wise Ones want with her? Had she broken some rule, some law?
She herself would not have minded some more company. She felt very exposed standing there with no Aiel around her, and all those among the tents watching. The Aiel who had come from the Stone had been courteous even when not exactly friendly; the watchers looked neither. It was a temptation to embrace saidar. Only Moiraine, serene and cool as ever despite perspiration on her face, and Lan, as unperturbed as the rocks around them, kept her from it. They would know if there was danger. As long as they accepted the situation, she would. But she did wish those Aiel would stop staring.
Rhuarc climbed the slope with a smile.  She reached up to touch his cheek, letting her brown shawl fall down onto her arms. “My sister-wife sends her heart to you.”
“That’s what you meant about Dreaming,” Egwene said softly to Moiraine. Lan was the only other close enough to hear. “That’s why you were willing to let Rand try to bring us here by Portal Stone. They knew about it, and told you in that letter. No, that doesn’t make sense. If they had mentioned a Portal Stone, you wouldn’t have tried talking him out of it. They knew we’d be here, though.”
Moiraine nodded without taking her eyes from the Wise Ones. “They wrote that they would meet us here, on Chaendaer, today. I thought it . . . unlikely . . . until Rand mentioned the Stones. When he was sure—certain beyond my dissuading—that one existed here . . . Let us just say it suddenly seemed very likely we would reach Chaendaer today.”
Egwene took a deep breath of hot air. So that was one of the things Dreamers could do. She could not wait to start learning. She wanted to go after Rhuarc and introduce herself to Amys—reintroduce herself—but Rhuarc and Amys were looking into one another’s eyes in a way that excluded intruders.
A man had come out from each of the camps, one tall and broad-shouldered, flame-haired and still short of his middle years, the other older and darker, no less tall but more slender. They stopped a few paces to either side of Rhuarc and the Wise Ones. The older, leathery-faced man carried no visible weapon except his heavy bladed belt knife, but the other carried spears and hide buckler, and held his head high with a fiercely prideful scowl directed at Rhuarc.
Rhuarc ignored him, turning to the older man. “I see you, Heirn. Has one of the sept chiefs decided I am already dead? Who seeks to take my place?”
“I see you, Rhuarc. No one of the Taardad has entered Rhuidean or seeks to. Amys said she would come meet you here today, and these other Wise Ones traveled with her. I brought these men of the Jindo sept to see they arrived safely.”
Rhuarc nodded solemnly. Egwene had the feeling something important had just been said, or hinted at. The Wise Ones did not look at the fiery-haired man, and neither did Rhuarc or Heirn, but from the color rising in the fellow’s cheeks, they might as well have been staring at him. She glanced at Moiraine and got a tiny shake of the head; the Aes Sedai did not understand either.
Lan leaned down between them, speaking quietly. “A Wise One can go anywhere safely, into any hold regardless of clan. I think not even blood feud touches a Wise One. This Heirn came to protect Rhuarc from whoever the other camp is, but it would not be honorable to say it.” Moiraine lifted one eyebrow a trifle, and he added, “I don’t know much of them, but I fought them often before I met you. You have never asked me about them.”
“I will remedy that,” the Aes Sedai said dryly.
Turning back to the Wise Ones and the three men made Egwene’s head swim. Lan pushed an unstoppered leather water bottle into her hands, and she tilted her head back to drink gratefully. The water was lukewarm and smelled of leather, but in the heat it tasted fresh from the spring. She offered the half empty bottle to Moiraine, who drank sparingly and handed it back. Egwene was glad to gulp down the rest, closing her eyes; water splashed over her head, and she opened them again quickly. Lan was emptying another water bottle over her, and Moiraine’s hair already dripped.
 At his instructions, she and Moiraine tied the soaked cloths around their foreheads. Rand and Mat were doing the same. Lan left his own head unprotected to the sun; nothing seemed to faze the man.
The silence between Rhuarc and the Aielmen with him had stretched out, but the clan chief finally turned to the flame-haired man. “Do the Shaido lack a clan chief, then, Couladin?”
“Suladric is dead,” the man answered. “Muradin has entered Rhuidean. Should he fail, I will enter.”
“You have not asked, Couladin,” the grandmotherly Wise One said in that reedy yet strong voice. “Should Muradin fail, ask then. We are four, enough to say yes or no.”
“It is my right, Bair,” Couladin said angrily. He had the look of a man not used to being balked.
“It is your right to ask,” the thin voiced woman replied. “It is ours to answer. I do not think you will be allowed to enter, whatever happens to Muradin. You are flawed within, Couladin.” She shifted her gray shawl, rewrapping it around her angular shoulders in a way that suggested she had said more than she considered necessary.
The flame-haired man’s face grew red. “My first-brother will return marked as clan chief, and we will lead the Shaido to great honor! We mean to—!” He snapped his mouth shut, almost quivering.
Egwene thought she would keep an eye on him if he remained anywhere close to her. He reminded her of the Congars and the Coplins back home, full of boasts and trouble. She had certainly never before seen any Aiel display so much raw emotion.
Amys seemed to have dismissed him already. “There is one who came with you, Rhuarc,” she said. Egwene expected the woman to speak to her, but Amys’s eyes swept straight to Rand. Moiraine was obviously not surprised. Egwene wondered what had been in that letter from these four Wise Ones that the Aes Sedai had not revealed.
Rand looked taken aback for a moment, hesitating, but then he strode up the slope to stand near Rhuarc at eye level to the women. Sweat plastered his white shirt to his body and made darker patches on his breeches. With a twisted white cloth tied around his head, he certainly did not look so grand as he had in the Heart of the Stone. He made an odd bow; left foot advanced, left hand on knee, right hand outstretched palm upward.
“By the right of blood,” he said, “I ask leave to enter Rhuidean, for the honor of our ancestors and the memory of what was.”
Amys blinked in evident surprise, and Bair murmured, “An ancient form, but the question has been asked. I answer yes.”
“I also answer yes, Bair,” Amys said. “Seana?”
“This man is no Aiel,” Couladin broke in angrily. Egwene suspected he was very nearly always angry.  Why has Rhuarc brought him? Why—?”
“Do you wish to be a Wise One, Couladin?” Bair asked, a frown deepening the creases on her face. “Put on a dress and come to me, and I will see if you can be trained. Until then, be silent when Wise Ones speak!”
“My mother was Aiel,” Rand said in a strained voice.
Egwene stared at him. Kari al’Thor had died while Egwene was barely out of her cradle, but if Tam’s wife had been Aiel, Egwene would certainly have heard of it. She glanced at Moiraine; the Aes Sedai was watching, smooth faced, calm. Rand did look a great deal like the Aielmen, with his height and gray blue eyes and reddish hair, but this was ridiculous.
“Not your mother,” Amys said slowly. “Your father.” Egwene shook her head. This approached madness. Rand opened his mouth, but Amys did not let him speak. “Seana, how do you say?”
“Yes,” the woman with gray streaked hair said. “Melaine?”
The last of the four, a handsome woman with golden-red hair, no more than ten or fifteen years older than Egwene, hesitated. “It must be done,” she said finally, and unwillingly. “I answer yes.”
“You have been answered,” Amys told Rand. “You may go into Rhuidean, and—” She cut off as Mat scrambled up to copy Rand’s bow awkwardly.
“I also ask to enter Rhuidean,” he said shakily.
The four Wise Ones stared at him. Rand’s head whipped around in surprise. Egwene thought no one could be more shocked than she was, but Couladin proved her wrong. Lifting one of his spears with a snarl, he stabbed at Mat’s chest.
The glow of saidar surrounded Amys and Melaine, and flows of Air lifted the fiery haired man and flung him back a dozen paces.
Egwene stared, wide eyed. They could channel. At least, two of them could. Suddenly Amys’s youthfully smooth features beneath that white hair leaped out at her for what they were, something very close to Aes Sedai agelessness. Moiraine was absolutely still. Egwene could almost hear her thoughts buzzing, though. This was plainly as much of a surprise to the Aes Sedai as to herself.
Couladin scrambled to his feet in a crouch. “You accept this outlander as one of us,” he rasped, pointing at Rand with the spear he had attempted to use on Mat. “If you say it, then so be it.  The spear swung to Mat, who was trying to slip a knife back up his sleeve without being noticed. “But he—it is death for him to be here, and sacrilege for him to even ask to enter Rhuidean. None but those of the blood may enter. None!”
“Go back to your tents, Couladin,” Melaine said coldly. “And you, Heirn. And you, as well, Rhuarc. This is business of Wise Ones, and none of men save those who have asked. Go!” Rhuarc and Heirn nodded and walked away toward the smaller set of tents, talking together. Couladin glared at Rand and Mat, and at the Wise Ones, before jerking around and stalking off toward the larger camp.
The Wise Ones exchanged glances. Troubled glances, Egwene would have said, though they were almost as good as Aes Sedai at keeping their faces blank when they wanted to.
“It is not permitted,” Amys said finally. “Young man, you do not know what you have done. Go back with the others.” Her eyes brushed across Egwene and Moiraine and Lan, standing alone now with the horses near the wind-scoured Portal Stone. Egwene could not find any recognition for her in that glance.
“I can’t.” Mat sounded desperate. “I’ve come this far, but this doesn’t count, does it? I have to go to Rhuidean.”
“It is not permitted,” Melaine said sharply, her long red-gold hair swinging as she shook her head. “You have no Aiel blood in your veins.”
Rand had been studying Mat all this time. “He comes with me,” he said suddenly. “You gave me permission, and he can come with me whether you say he can or not.” He stared back at the Wise Ones, not defiantly, merely determined, set in his mind. Egwene knew him like this; he would not back down whatever they said.
“It is not permitted,” Melaine said firmly, addressing her sisters. She pulled her shawl up to cover her head. “The law is clear. No woman may go to Rhuidean more than twice, no man more than once, and none at all save they have the blood of Aiel.”
Seana shook her head. “Much is changing, Melaine. The old ways . . . ”
“If he is the one,” Bair said, “the Time of Change is upon us. Aes Sedai stand on Chaendaer, and Aan’allein with his shifting cloak. Can we hold to the old ways still? Knowing how much is to change?”
“We cannot hold,” Amys said. “All stands on the edge of change, now. Melaine?” The golden haired woman looked at the mountains around them, and the fog shrouded city below, then sighed and nodded. “It is done,” Amys said, turning to Rand and Mat. “You,” she began, then paused. “By what name do you call yourself?”
“Rand al’Thor.”
“Mat. Mat Cauthon.”
Amys nodded. “You, Rand al’Thor, must go into the heart of Rhuidean, to the very center. If you wish to go with him, Mat Cauthon, so be it, but know that most men who enter Rhuidean’s heart do not come back, and some return mad. You may carry neither food nor water, in remembrance of our wanderings after the Breaking. You must go to Rhuidean unarmed, save with your hands and your own heart, to honor the Jenn. If you have weapons, place them on the ground before us. They will be here for you when you return. If you return.”
Rand unsheathed his belt knife and laid it at Amys’s feet, then after a moment added the green stone carving of the round little man. “That is the best I can do,” he said.
Mat began with his belt knife and kept right on, pulling knives from his sleeves and under his coat, even one from down the back of his neck, fashioning a pile that seemed to impress even the Aiel women. He made as if to stop, looked at the women, then took two more from each boot top. “I forgot them,” he said with a grin and shrug. The Wise Ones’ unblinking looks wiped his grin away.
“They are pledged to Rhuidean,” Amys said formally, looking over the men’s heads, and the other three responded together, “Rhuidean belongs to the dead.”
“They may not speak to the living until they return,” she intoned, and again the others answered. “The dead do not speak to the living.”
“We do not see them, until they stand among the living once more.” Amys drew her shawl across her eyes, and one by one the other three did the same. Faces hidden, they spoke in unison. “Begone from among the living, and do not haunt us with memories of what is lost. Speak not of what the dead see.” Silent then, they stood there, holding their shawls up, waiting.
Rand and Mat looked at one another. Egwene wanted to go to them, to speak to them—they wore the fixed too-steady faces of men who did not want anyone to know they were uneasy or afraid—but that might break the ceremony.
Finally Mat barked a laugh. “Well, I suppose the dead can talk to each other, at least. I wonder if this counts for . . . No matter. Do you suppose it’s all right if we ride?”
“I don’t think so,” Rand said.  We might as well get on with it then. It’ll take half the afternoon just to get there. If we’re lucky.”
Rand gave Egwene a reassuring smile as they started down the mountain, as if to convince her there was no danger, nothing untoward. Mat’s grin was the sort he wore when doing something particularly foolish, like trying to dance on the peak of a roof.
 Mat said. “I mean to come back alive.”
“So do I,” Rand replied. “So do I.”
They passed from hearing, growing smaller and smaller as they descended. When they had dwindled to tiny shapes, barely distinguishable as people, the Wise Ones lowered their shawls.
Straightening her dress, and wishing she were not so sweaty, Egwene climbed the short distance to them leading Mist. “Amys? I am Egwene al’Vere. You said I should—”
Amys cut her off with a raised hand, and looked to where Lan was leading Mandarb and Pips and Jeade’en, behind Moiraine and Aldieb. “This is women’s business, now, Aan’allein. You must stand aside. Go to the tents. Rhuarc will offer you water and shade.”
Lan waited for Moiraine’s slight nod before bowing and walking off in the direction Rhuarc had gone. The shifting cloak hanging down his back sometimes gave him the appearance of a disembodied head and arms floating across the ground ahead of the three horses.
“Why do you call him that?” Moiraine asked when he was out of earshot. “One Man. Do you know him?”
“We know of him, Aes Sedai.” Amys made the title sound an address between equals. “The last of the Malkieri. The man who will not give up his war against the Shadow though his nation is long destroyed by it. There is much honor in him. I knew from the dream that if you came, it was almost certain Aan’allein would as well, but I did not know he obeyed you.”
“He is my Warder,” Moiraine said simply.
Egwene thought the Aes Sedai was troubled despite her tone, and she knew why. Almost certain Lan would come with Moiraine? Lan always followed Moiraine; he would follow her into the Pit of Doom without blinking. Nearly as interesting to Egwene was “if you came.” Had the Wise Ones know they were coming or not? Perhaps interpreting the Dream was not as straightforward as she hoped. She was about to ask, when Bair spoke.
“Aviendha? Come here.”
Aviendha had been squatting disconsolately off to one side, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the ground. She stood slowly. If Egwene had not known better, she would have thought the other woman was afraid. Aviendha’s feet dragged as she climbed to where the Wise Ones stood and set her bag and rolled wall hangings at her feet.
“It is time,” Bair said, not ungently. Still, there was no compromise in her pale blue eyes. “You have run with the spears as long as you can. Longer than you should have.”
 “I am a Maiden of the Spear. I do not want to be a Wise One. I will not be!”
The Wise Ones’ faces hardened. Egwene was reminded of the Women’s Circle back home confronting a woman who was heading off into some foolishness.
“You have already been treated more gently than it was in my day,” Amys said in a voice like stone. “I, too, refused when called. My spear-sisters broke my spears before my eyes. They took me to Bair and Coedelin bound hand and foot and wearing only my skin.”
“And a pretty little doll tucked under your arm,” Bair said dryly, “to remind you how childish you were. As I remember, you ran away nine times in the first month.”
Amys nodded grimly. “And was made to blubber like a child for each of them. I only ran away five times the second month. I thought I was as strong and hard as a woman could be. I was not smart, though; it took me half a year to learn you were stronger and harder than I could ever be, Bair. Eventually I learned my duty, my obligation to the people. As you will, Aviendha. Such as you and I, we have that obligation. You are not a child. It is time to put away dolls—and spears—and become the woman you are meant to be.”
Abruptly, Egwene knew why she had felt such a kinship with Aviendha from the first, knew why Amys and the others meant her to be a Wise One. Aviendha could channel. Like herself, like Elayne and Nynaeve—and Moiraine, for that matter—she was one of those rare women who not only could be taught to channel, but who had the ability born in her, so she would touch the True Source eventually whether she knew what she was doing or not. Moiraine’s face was still, calm, but Egwene saw confirmation in her eyes. The Aes Sedai had surely known from the first time she came within arm’s reach of the Aiel woman. Egwene realized she could feel that same kinship with Amys and Melaine. Not with Bair or Seana, though. Only the first two could channel; she was sure of it. And now she could sense the same in Moiraine. It was the first time she had ever felt that. The Aes Sedai was a distant woman.
Some of the Wise Ones, at least, apparently saw more in Moiraine’s face. “You meant to take her to your White Tower,” Bair said, “to make her one of you. She is Aiel, Aes Sedai.”
“She can be very strong if she is trained properly,” Moiraine replied. “As strong as Egwene will be. In the Tower, she can reach that strength.”
“We can teach her as well, Aes Sedai.” Melaine’s voice was smooth enough, but contempt tinged her unwavering green-eyed stare. “Better. I have spoken with Aes Sedai. You coddle women in the Tower. The Three-fold Land is no place for coddling. Aviendha will learn what she can do while you would still have her playing games.”
Egwene gave Aviendha a concerned look; the other woman was staring at her feet, defiance gone. If they thought training in the Tower was coddling . . .  She felt a true pang of sympathy for the Aiel woman.
Amys held out her hands, and Aviendha reluctantly laid her spears and buckler in them, flinching when the Wise One threw them aside to clatter on the ground. Slowly Aviendha slid her cased bow from her back and surrendered it, unbuckled the belt holding her quiver and sheathed knife.  A tear trembled at the corner of one blue-green eye.
“Do you have to treat her this way?” Egwene demanded angrily. Amys and the others turned flat stares on her, but she was not about to be intimidated. “You are treating things she cares about as trash.”
“She must see them as trash,” Seana said. “When she returns—if she returns—she will burn them and scatter the ashes. The metal she will give to a smith to make simple things. Not weapons. Not even a carving knife. Buckles, or pots, or puzzles for children. Things she will give away with her own hands when they are made.”
“The Three-fold Land is not soft, Aes Sedai,” Bair said. “”Soft things die, here.”
“The cadin’sor, Aviendha.” Amys gestured to the discarded weapons. “Your new clothes will await your return.”
Mechanically, Aviendha stripped, tossing coat and breeches, soft boots, everything onto the pile. Naked, she stood without wriggling a toe, though Egwene thought her own feet would blister through her shoes. She remembered watching as the clothes she had worn to the White Tower were burned, a severing of ties to an earlier life, but it had not been like this. Not this stark.
When Aviendha started to add the sack and the wall hangings to the pile, Seana took them from her. “These you can have back. If you return. If not, they will go to your family, for remembrance.”
Aviendha nodded. She did not seem afraid. Reluctant, angry, even sullen, but not afraid.
“In Rhuidean,” Amys said, “you will find three rings, arranged so.” She drew three lines in the air, joining together in the middle. “Step through any one.  They will not guide you wholly, as is best, for they will fade together as do stories heard long ago, yet you will remember enough to know some things that must be, for you, despised as they may be, and some that must not, cherished hopes that they are. This is the beginning of being called wise. Some women never return from the rings; perhaps they could not face the future. Some who survive the rings do not survive their second trip to Rhuidean, to the heart. You are not giving up a hard and dangerous life for a softer, but for a harder and more dangerous.”
A ter’angreal. Amys was describing a ter’angreal. What kind of place was this Rhuidean? Egwene found herself wanting to go down there herself, to find out. That was foolish. She was not here to take unnecessary risks with ter’angreal she knew nothing about.
Melaine cupped Aviendha’s chin and turned the younger woman’s face to her. “You have the strength,” she said with quiet conviction. “A strong mind and a strong heart are your weapons now, but you hold them as surely as you ever held a spear. Remember them, use them, and they will see you through anything.”
Egwene was surprised. Of the four, she would have picked the sun-haired woman last to show compassion.
Aviendha nodded, and even managed a smile. “I will beat those men to Rhuidean. They cannot run.”
Each Wise One in turn kissed her lightly on each cheek, murmuring, “Come back to us.”
Catching Aviendha’s hand, Egwene squeezed it and got a squeeze in return. Then the Aiel woman was running down the mountainside in leaps. It seemed she might well catch up to Rand and Mat. Egwene watched her go worriedly. This was something like being raised to Accepted, it seemed, but without any novice training first, without anyone to give small comfort afterward. What would it have been like to be raised Accepted on her first day in the Tower? She thought she might have gone mad. Nynaeve had been raised so, because of her strength; she thought at least some of Nynaeve’s distaste for Aes Sedai came from what she had experienced then. Come back to us, she thought. Be steadfast.
When Aviendha passed out of sight, Egwene sighed and turned back to the Wise Ones. She had her own purpose here, and holding back from it would help no one. “Amys, in Tel’aran’rhiod you told me I should come to you to learn. I have.”
“Haste,” the white haired woman said. “We have been hasty, because Aviendha struggled so long against her toh, because we feared the Shaido might don veils, even here, if we did not send Rand al’Thor into Rhuidean before they could think.”
“You believe they’d have tried to kill him?” Egwene said. “But he’s the one you sent people over the Dragonwall to find. He Who Comes With the Dawn.”
Bair shifted her shawl. “Perhaps he is. We shall see. If he lives.”
“He has his mother’s eyes,” Amys said, “and much of her in his face as well as something of his father, but Couladin could see only his clothes, and his horse. The other Shaido would have as well, and perhaps the Taardad, too. Outlanders are not allowed on this ground, and now there are five of you. No, four; Rand al’Thor is no outlander, wherever he was raised. But we have already allowed one to enter Rhuidean, which is also forbidden. Change comes like an avalanche whether we want it or not.”
“It must come,” Bair said, not sounding happy. “The Pattern plants us where it will.”
“You knew Rand’s parents?” Egwene asked cautiously. Whatever they said, she still thought of Tam and Kari al’Thor as Rand’s parents.
“That is his story,” Amys said, “if he wants to hear it.” By the firmness of her mouth, she would not say another word on the subject.
“Come,” Bair said. “There is no need for haste, now. Come. We offer you water and shade.”
Egwene’s knees nearly buckled at the mention of shade.  Moiraine seemed just as grateful to follow the Wise Ones up to one of the small clusters of low, open-sided tents.
A tall man in sandals and hooded white robes took their horses’ reins. His Aiel face looked odd in the deep soft cowl, with downcast eyes.
“Give the animals water,” Bair said before ducking into the low, unwalled tent, and the man bowed to her back, touching his forehead.
Egwene hesitated over letting the man lead Mist away. He seemed confident, but what would an Aiel know of horses? Still, she did not think he would harm them, and it did look wonderfully darker inside the tent. It was, and delightfully cool compared to outside.
The roof of the tent rose to a peak around a hole, but even under that there was barely room to stand. As if to make up for the drab colors the Aiel wore, large gold tasseled red cushions lay scattered over brightly colored carpets layered thickly enough to pad the hard ground beneath. Egwene and Moiraine imitated the Wise Ones, sinking to the carpet and leaning on one elbow on a cushion. They were all in a circle, nearly close enough to touch the next woman.
Bair struck a small brass gong, and two young women entered with silver trays, bending gracefully, robed in white, with deep cowls and downturned eyes, like the man who had taken the horses. Kneeling in the middle of the tent, one filled a small silver cup with wine for each of the women reclining on a cushion, and the other poured larger cups of water. Without a word, they backed out bowing, leaving the gleaming trays and pitchers, beaded with condensation.
“Here is water and shade,” Bair said, lifting her water, “freely given. Let there be no constraints between us. All here are welcome, as first-sisters are welcome.”
“Let there be no constraints,” Amys and the other two murmured. After one sip of water, the Aiel women named themselves formally. Bair, of the Haido sept of the Shaarad Aiel. Amys, of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel. Melaine, of the Jhirad sept of the Goshien Aiel. Seana, of the Black Cliff sept of the Nakai Aiel.
Egwene and Moiraine followed the ritual, though Moiraine’s mouth tightened when Egwene called herself an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah.
As if the sharing of water and names had broken down a wall, the mood in the tent changed palpably. Smiles from the Aiel women, a subtle relaxation, and said formalities were done.
Egwene was more grateful for the water than for the wine. It might be cooler in the tent than outside, but just breathing still dried her throat. At Amys’s gesture she eagerly poured a second cup.
The people in white had been a surprise. It was foolish, but she realized she had been thinking that except for the Wise Ones Aiel were all like Rhuarc and Aviendha, warriors. Of course they had blacksmiths and weavers and other craftsmen; they must. Why not servants? Only, Aviendha had been disdainful of the servants in the Stone, not letting them do anything for her that she could avoid.  She did not recall seeing any white in the two large camps. “Is it only Wise Ones who have servants?” she asked.
Melaine choked on her wine. “Servants?” she gasped. “They are gai’shain, not servants.” She sounded as if that should explain everything,
Moiraine frowned slightly over her winecup. “Gai’shain? How does that translate? ‘Those sworn to peace in battle’?”
“They are simply gai’shain,” Amys said. She seemed to realize they did not understand. “Forgive me, but do you know of ji’e’toh?”
“Honor and obligation,” Moiraine replied promptly. “Or perhaps honor and duty.”
“Those are the words, yes. But the meaning. We live by ji’e’toh, Aes Sedai.”
“Do not try to tell them all, Amys,” Bair cautioned. “I once spent a month trying to explain ji’e’toh to a wetlander, and at the end she had more questions than at the beginning.”
Amys nodded. “I will stay to the core. If you wish it explained, Moiraine.”
Egwene would as soon have begun talk of Dreaming, and training, but to her irritation, the Aes Sedai said, “Yes, if you will.”
With a nod to Moiraine, Amys began. “I will follow the line of gai’shain simply. In the dance of spears, the most ji, honor, is earned by touching an armed enemy without killing, or harming in any way.”
“The most honor because it is so difficult,” Seana said, bluish gray eyes crinkling wryly, “and thus so seldom done.”
“The smallest honor comes from killing,” Amys continued.  In between is the taking of a captive. I pare it down, you see. There are many degrees. Gai’shain are captives taken so, though a warrior who has been touched may sometimes demand to be taken gai’shain to reduce his enemy’s honor and his own loss.”
“Maidens of the Spear and Stone Dogs especially are known for this,” Seana put in, bringing a sharp look from Amys.
“Do I tell this, or do you? To continue. Some may not be taken gai’shain, of course. A Wise One, a blacksmith, a child, a woman with child or one who has a child under the age of ten. A gai’shain has toh to his or her captor. For gai’shain, this is to serve one year and a day, obeying humbly, touching no weapon, doing no violence.”
Egwene was interested in spite of herself. “Don’t they try to escape? I certainly would.” I’ll never let anyone make me a prisoner again!
The Wise Ones looked shocked. “It has happened,” Seana said stiffly, “but there is no honor in it. A gai’shain who ran away would be returned by his or her sept to begin the year and a day anew. The loss of honor is so great that a first-brother or first-sister might go as gai’shain as well to discharge the sept’s toh. More than one, if they feel the loss of ji is great.”
Moiraine seemed to be taking it all in calmly, sipping her water, but it was all Egwene could do not to shake her head. The Aiel were insane; that was all there was to it. It got worse.
“Some gai’shain now make an arrogance of humbleness,” Melaine said disapprovingly. “They think they earn honor by it, taking obedience and meekness to the point of mockery. This is a new thing and foolish. It has no part in ji’e’toh.”
Bair laughed, a startling rich sound compared to her reedy voice. “There have always been fools. When I was a girl, and the Shaarad and the Tomanelle were stealing each other’s cattle and goats every night, Chenda, the roofmistress of Mainde Cut, was pushed aside by a young Haido Water Seeker during a raid. She came to Bent Valley and demanded the boy make her gai’shain; she would not allow him to gain the honor of having touched her because she had a carving knife in her hands when he did. A carving knife! It was a weapon, she claimed, as if she were a Maiden. The boy had no choice but to do as she demanded, for all the laughter when he did. One does not send a roofmistress barefoot back to her hold. Before the year and a day was done, the Haido sept and the Jenda sept exchanged spears, and the boy soon found himself married to Chenda’s eldest daughter. With his second-mother still gai’shain to him. He tried to give her to his wife as part of his bride gift, and both women claimed he was trying to rob them of honor. He nearly had to take his own wife as gai’shain. It came close to raiding between Haido and Jenda again before the toh was discharged.” The Aiel women almost fell over laughing, Amys and Melaine wiping their eyes.
Egwene understood little of the story—certainly not why it was funny—but she managed a polite laugh.
Moiraine set her water aside for the small silver cup of wine. “I have heard men speak of fighting the Aiel, but I have never heard of this before. Certainly not of an Aiel surrendering because he was touched.”
“It is not surrender,” Amys said pointedly. “It is ji’e’toh.”
“No one would ask to be made gai’shain to a wetlander,” Melaine said. “Outlanders do not know of ji’e’toh.”
The Aiel women exchanged looks. They were uncomfortable. Why? Egwene wondered. Oh. To the Aiel, not to know ji’e’toh must be like not knowing manners, or not being honorable. “There are honorable men and women among us,” Egwene said. “Most of us. We know right from wrong.”
“Of course you do,” Bair murmured in a tone that said that was not the same thing at all.
“You sent a letter to me in Tear,” Moiraine said, “before I ever reached there. You said a great many things, some of which have proven true. Including that I would—must—meet you here today; you very nearly commanded me to be here. Yet earlier you said if I came. How much of what you wrote did you know to be true?”
Amys sighed and set aside her cup of wine, but it was Bair who spoke. “Much is uncertain, even to a dream walker. Amys and Melaine are the best of us, and even they do not see all that is, or all that can be.”
“The present is much clearer than the future even in Tel’aran’rhiod,” the sun-haired Wise One said. “What is happening or beginning is more easily seen than what will happen, or may. We did not see Egwene or Mat Cauthon at all. It was no more than an even chance that the young man who calls himself Rand al’Thor would come. If he did not, it was certain that he would die, and the Aiel too. Yet he has come, and if he survives Rhuidean, some of the Aiel at least will survive. This we know. If you had not come, he would have died. If Aan’allein had not come, you would have died. If you do not go through the rings—” She cut off as if she had bitten her tongue.
Egwene leaned forward intently. Moiraine had to enter Rhuidean? But the Aes Sedai appeared to give no notice, and Seana spoke up quickly to cover Melaine’s slip.
“There is no one set path to the future. The Pattern makes the finest lace look coarse-woven sacking, or tangled string. In Tel’aran’rhiod it is possible to see some ways the future may be woven. No more than that.”
Moiraine took a sip of wine. “The Old Tongue is often difficult to translate.” Egwene stared at her. The Old Tongue? What about the rings, the ter’angreal? But Moiraine went blithely on. “Tel’aran’rhiod means the World of Dreams, or perhaps the Unseen World. Neither is really exact; it is more complex than that. Aan’allein. One Man, but also The Man Who Is an Entire People, and two or three other ways to translate it as well. And the words we have taken for common use, and never think of their meanings in the Old Tongue. Warders are called ‘Gaidin,’ which was ‘brothers to battle.’ Aes Sedai meant ‘servant of all.’ And ‘Aiel’. ‘Dedicated,’ in the Old Tongue. Stronger than that; it implies an oath written into your bones. I have often wondered what the Aiel are dedicated to.” The Wise Ones’ faces had gone to iron, but Moiraine continued. “And ‘Jenn Aiel’. ‘The true dedicated,’ but again stronger. Perhaps ‘the only true dedicated.’ The only true Aiel?” She looked at them questioningly, just as if they did not suddenly have eyes of stone. None of them spoke.
What was Moiraine doing? Egwene did not intend to allow the Aes Sedai to ruin her chances of learning whatever the Wise Ones could teach her. “Amys, could we talk of Dreaming now?”
“Tonight will be time enough,” Amys said.
“But—”
“Tonight, Egwene. You may be Aes Sedai, but you must become a pupil again. You cannot even go to sleep when you wish yet, or sleep lightly enough to tell what you see before you wake. When the sun begins to set, I will begin to teach you.”
Ducking her head, Egwene peered under the edge of the tent roof. From that deep shade, the light outside glared piercingly through heat shimmers in the air; the sun stood no more than halfway to the mountaintops.
Abruptly Moiraine rose to her knees; reaching behind her, she began undoing her dress. “I presume that I must go as Aviendha did,” she said, not as a question.
Bair gave Melaine a hard stare that the younger woman met only for a moment before dropping her eyes. Seana said in a resigned voice, “You should not have been told. It is done, now. Change. One not of the blood has gone to Rhuidean, and now another.”
Moiraine paused. “Does that make a difference, that I have been told?”
“Perhaps a great difference,” Bair said reluctantly, “perhaps none. We often guide, but we do not tell. When we saw you go to the rings, each time it was you who brought up going, who demanded the right though you have none of the blood. Now one of us has mentioned it first. Already there are changes from anything we saw. Who can say what they are?”
“And what did you see if I do not go?”
Bair’s wrinkled face was expressionless, but sympathy touched her pale blue eyes. “We have told too much already, Moiraine. What a dream walker sees is what is likely to happen, not what surely will. Those who move with too much knowledge of the future inevitably find disaster, whether from complacency at what they think must come or in their efforts to change it.”
“It is the mercy of the rings that the memories fade,” Amys said. “A woman knows some things—a few—that will happen; others she will not recognize until the decision is upon her, if then. Life is uncertainty and struggle, choice and change; one who knew how her life was woven into the Pattern as well as she knew how a thread was laid into a carpet would have the life of an animal. If she did not go mad. Humankind is made for uncertainty, struggle, choice and change.”
Moiraine listened with no outward show of impatience, though Egwene suspected it was there; the Aes Sedai was used to lecturing, not being lectured. She was silent while Egwene helped her out of her dress, not speaking until she crouched naked at the edge of the carpets, peering down the mountainside toward the fog-shrouded city in the valley. Then she said, “Do not let Lan follow me. He will try, if he sees me.”
“It will be as it will be,” Bair replied. Her thin voice sounded cold and final.
After a moment, Moiraine gave a grudging nod and slipped out of the tent into the blazing sunlight. She began to run immediately, barefoot down the scorching slope.
Egwene grimaced. Rand and Mat, Aviendha, now Moiraine, all going into Rhuidean. “Will she . . . survive? If you dreamed of this, you must know.”
“There are some places one cannot enter in Tel’aran’rhiod,” Seana said. “Rhuidean. Ogier stedding. A few others. What happens there is shielded from a dreamwalker’s eyes.”
That was not an answer—they could have seen whether she came out of Rhuidean—but it was obviously all she was going to get. “Very well. Should I go, too?” She did not relish the thought of experiencing the rings; it would be like being raised to Accepted again. But if everyone else was going . . .
“Do not be foolish,” Amys said vigorously.
“We saw nothing of this for you,” Bair added in a milder tone. “We did not see you at all.”
“And I would not say yes if you asked,” Amys went on. “Four are required for permission, and I would say no.  There must be something you can begin with before tonight.”
Melaine frowned at her, but Bair chuckled dryly. “She is as eager and impatient as you were once you decided to learn, Amys.”
Amys nodded. “I hope she can keep her eagerness and lose the impatience, for her sake. Hear me, Egwene. Though it will be hard, you must forget that you are Aes Sedai if you are to learn. You must listen, remember, and do as you are told. Above all, you must not enter Tel’aran’rhiod again until one of us says you may. Can you accept this?”
It would not be hard to forget she was Aes Sedai when she was not. For the rest, it sounded ominously like becoming a novice again. “I can accept it.” She hoped she did not sound doubtful.
“Good,” Bair said. “I will now tell you about dreamwalking and Tel’aran’rhiod, in a very general way. When I am done, you will repeat back to me what I have said. If you fail to touch all points, you will scrub the pots in place of the gai’shain tonight. If your memory is so poor that you cannot repeat what I say after a second hearing . . . Well, we will discuss that when it happens. Attend.
“Almost anyone can touch Tel’aran’rhiod, but few can truly enter it. Of all the Wise Ones, we four alone can dreamwalk, and your Tower has not produced a dreamwalker in nearly five hundred years. It is not a thing of the One Power, though Aes Sedai believe it is. I cannot channel, nor can Seana, yet we dreamwalk as well as Amys or Melaine. Many people brush the World of Dreams in their sleep. Because they only brush against it, they wake with aches or pains where they should have broken bones or mortal hurts. A dreamwalker enters the dream fully, therefore her injuries are real on waking. For one who is fully in the dream, dreamwalker or not, death there is death here. To enter the dream too completely, though, is to lose touch with the flesh; there is no way back, and the flesh dies. It is said that once there were those who could enter the dream in the flesh, and no longer be in this world at all. This was an evil thing, for they did evil; it must never be attempted, even if you believe it possible for you, for each time you will lose some part of what makes you human. You must learn to enter Tel’aran’rhiod when you wish, to the degree you wish. You must learn to find what you need to find and read what you see, to enter the dreams of another close by in order to aid healing, to recognize those who are in the dream fully enough to harm you, to . . . ”
Egwene listened intently. It fascinated her, hinting at things she had never suspected were possible, but beyond that she had no intention of ending up scrubbing pots. It did not seem fair, somehow. Whatever Rand and Mat and the others faced in Rhuidean, they were not going to be sent off to scrub pots. And I agreed to it! It just was not fair. But then, she doubted they could get any more out of Rhuidean than she would from these women.


WITNESS LIST Environmental Regulation Committee March 13, 2001-2:00P HB 85 On: Selig, Edward (Advocates for Responsible Disposal in Texas) HB 128 For: Johnson, Rod (Brown McCarrol, LLP) Miksa, Mary (Texas Association of Business & Chambers of Commerce) Rigsbee, Ken (Phillips Petroleum Company) Against: Alvarez, Ph.D., Ramon (Environmental Defense) Deckert, Frank (U.S. National Park Service, Big Bend National Park) Kelly, Mary E. (Texas Center for Policy Studies) Kramer, Ken (Lone Star Chapter of the Sierra Club) Lowerre, Richard (Law Firm of Henry, Lowerre & Frederick) Smith, Tom "Smitty" (Public Citizens Members) On: Schanbacher, David (TNRCC) HB 525 For: Anderson, Raymond (Harris County) HB 631 For: Collins, Tom (City of Houston) Gregory, Bob (Texas Chapter of National Solid Waste Management Assn., Texas Disposal System) Haseman, Roger (Harris County D.A.'s Office) Sledge, Brian (Lone Star Chapter, Solid Waste Association of North America (TxSWANA)) HB 1027 For: Miksa, Mary (Texas Assoc. of Business & Chambers of Commerce) Rigsbee, Ken (Phillips Petroleum Company) On: Kramer, Ken (Lone Star Chapter of the Sierra Club) Sarahan, Paul (TNRCC) HB 1099 For: Klein, Ph.D., Dale (Texas Radiation Advisory Board) Lowerre, Richard (Kleberg County Comm. Court, STDP (Citizen group in Kleberg County, landowners in Live Oak County) Smith, Tom "Smitty" (Public Citizen) On: Ratliff, Richard A. (Texas Department of Health) Tx. Environmental Ed Partnership On: Bartlett, Richard C. (Texas Environmental Education Partnership Fund Board) Lester, Jim (Texas Environmental Education Partnership)


A MONTH BY THE LAKE A film review by James Berardinelli Copyright 1995 James Berardinelli
RATING (0 TO 10): 6.7
United Kingdom, 1995 U.S. Availability: 9/95 (limited) Running Length: 1:39 MPAA Classification: R (Mature themes) Theatrical Aspect Ratio: 1.66:1
Cast: Vanessa Redgrave, Edward Fox, Uma Thurman Director: John Irvin Producer: Robert Fox Screenplay: Trevor Bentham Cinematography: Pasqualino de Santis Music: Nicola Piovani U.S. Distributor: Miramax Films
After playing a dying woman in both HOWARDS END and LITTLE ODESSA, Vanessa Redgrave has focused her skills on something a little lighter. A MONTH BY THE LAKE, the frivolous-yet-sluggish romantic comedy from director John Irvin (WIDOWS' PEAK), gives her an opportunity, no matter how ephemeral, to lay aside her serious reputation and become immersed in a story whose only real issue is whether two late-middle-aged Brits of vastly different temperaments can fall in love.
The entire film takes place at a vacation resort on the shores of Italy's Lake Como during the late Spring of 1937. Away from this breezy, idyllic paradise, rumors of war are growing, but they rarely intrude on the vacation of Miss Bentley (Redgrave), who is a regular visitor to the lake. This is a time of peace before an unspeakable tragedy--a period when everyone knew what was coming and did their best to seize a few months of happiness before the world was plunged into darkness. Yet it isn't the growth of fascism that makes this year different for Miss Bentley--her father has only recently died and she has just ended a 14-year affair with a married man. The only other English citizen at the hotel is Major Wilshaw (Edward Fox), an upright, uptight ex-British officer on his first visit to Como. He and Miss Bentley strike up a friendship but, while she is interested in tentatively pursuing something deeper, he holds back, his eye having been caught by a young, flirty American nanny (Uma Thurman) who enjoys leading him on just to see how big a fool she can make of him.
The first half of this film drags. The coy sparring between Miss Bentley and the major can't sustain the viewer's interest by itself, and there's little else going on. Trevor Bentham's script is smart, dry, and, too often, stagnant. Aside from a few droll comic interludes (including a very funny tennis match), it takes a long time for A MONTH BY THE LAKE to get moving. When it does, it's enjoyable in the way that most intelligent romantic comedies are enjoyable, but there is an obvious start-up penalty.
As is often the case, no matter what kind of role she plays, Redgrave steals the show. Buoyant and cheerful, Miss Bentley is an instantly likable character--far from the sort of stodgy fifty- something Englishwoman abroad one might expect. While it took an ENCHANTED APRIL to unwind characters played by Joan Plowright and Miranda Richardson, Miss Bentley is carefree before she ever arrives at Lake Como.
Edward Fox plays Major Wilshaw as a somewhat laughable, pompous bore. Yet, even though the character often comes across as fatuous, Fox knows when to reign in the comic element. There is a touching moment late in the film when Wilshaw shows that, as thick as his emotional armor is, the proper thrust can still penetrate it. This scene, which takes place during a magic show, is A MONTH BY THE LAKE's most serious, as well as one of its finest.
Uma Thurman, fresh from the glitz of PULP FICTION, intentionally overplays her role as an American hussy. Taking a cue from the WIDOWS' PEAK performance of Natasha Richardson (Redgrave's daughter), Thurman turns her Miss Beaumont into the perfect caricature--someone whose only two purposes are to add comic flair and romantic complications to a relatively static plot. Without Miss Beaumont, nothing would have happened between Miss Bentley and Major Wilshaw, and without Thurman, nothing would have happened in this movie.
Romance for the over-fifty crowd is a rare commodity in motion pictures. Judging by the average Hollywood take on the matter, one might easily assume that it's rare for someone with gray hair to fall in love. A MONTH BY THE LAKE has a different view of the world, and one of the chief pleasures of this film is watching two aging, uncertain characters bumble their way into a relationship. It's unfortunate that it takes so long to set up the situation, as the most lasting effect of this slow start is to dampen the eventual payoff.
- James Berardinelli<EMAIL_ADDRESS>The review above was posted to the
rec.arts.movies.reviews newsgroup (de.rec.film.kritiken for German reviews).
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{{ JSGlue.include() }}
Disease Map
HEALTH AND FAMILY WELFARE
DISEASE MAP
Disease Name :
Malaria
Month :
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September 2017
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How to Redirect the default *.azurewebsites.net domain to your custom domain on Azure Web Apps
What if you add a custom host name to your Azure Web App and don't want people to be able to access the default *.azurewebsites.net domain anymore?
--- ---
What if you add a custom host name to your Azure Web App and don't want people to be able to access the default *.azurewebsites.net domain anymore?
How to setup Facebook authentication in a way that we get access to the person's basic information and their email address when they log in.


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The app will bring in a community for jokes. Jokes have always been shared between
others mostly by word of mouth.
DadJokes will be able to bring that aspect to a wider range of people through the
ease of access in a social platform.
The app gives the users a reference for jokes when they need it so they can refer
back to it.
The Mission Statement
Keep your favorite Dad jokes organized for quick access and sharing with your
friends and
family.
Spread the fun and laughter with your friends through your favorite Dad jokes well
organized.
Share your Dad Jokes with everyone! Be corny, be funny but most of all be YOU. Join
the fun
at Dad Jokes!
App Features
Users are able to view public jokes.
Users can view a randomly generated joke.
Logged in users are able to add jokes into their Joke Wallet.
Users can share a joke that they like.
Technologies Used
The TEAM
We all come from several different backgrounds but Dad Jokes brought us together. We wanted to build something that would spread laughter. At the end of the day, a smile on your face can make the biggest impact.


AMERICAN OUTLAWS ----------------
When Jesse (Colin Farrell, "Tigerland") and Frank James (Gabriel Macht, "The Adventures of Sebastian Cole") and Cole (Scott Caan, "Ready to Rumble") and Bob Younger (Will McCormack, "Boiler Room") return home as renegade soldiers from the wrong side of the Civil War, they immediately must face losing their farms to railroad expansion. Hot-tempered Cole kills two men defending his family and is sentenced to be hung, but Jesse James saves Cole while humiliating railroad baron Thaddeus Raines (Harris Yulin, "Rush Hour II") and his hired detective agency head Alan Pinkerton (Timothy Dalton, "License to Kill"). They retaliate by burning down peoples' homes, killing Jesse and Frank's Ma (Kathy Bates, "Misery") in the process. Jesse and his friends decide they need to go to war against the railroad and the James Gang is born in "American Outlaws."
"American Outlaws'" tagline of 'Bad is good again' couldn't be more apt - this is one flick that's so atrociously ridiculous it's entertaining, the classic bad good movie. Thankfully it has the sense not to take itself too seriously, although there are groaners a'plenty when it does.
Screenwriters Roderick Taylor (TV's "Wild Horses") and John Rogers (standup comic!) throw history out the window, give Jesse a comely, modern love interest in Zee (Ali Larter, "Legally Blonde") and turn their young guns into Robin Hoods. While some of the sparring is amusing, other dialogue is unintentionally gutbusting ('Don't turn around. If you don't see it, it's not real.')
Director Les Mayfield ("Blue Streak") maintains a fast pace and makes his cast look (mostly) good while showing no aptitude for creating a realistic Western (one central stunt is right out of "The Wild, Wild West"). Gabriel Macht has good screen presence as mediator Frank James, Scott Caan does the chipped shoulder well and Will McCormack provides some top notch comic relief.
Colin Farrell, so highly praised for his work in the little seen "Tigerland," is the pretty, daring-do loverboy here, and proves himself capable of both a teen heartthrob turn and 'Matrix' era stunt work. Gregory Smith ("The Patriot") also acquits himself well as the younger Younger brother, who insists on riding with the gang. Kathy Bates plays Ma for yucks and gets them, even in her death scene (grossly mishandled by Mayfield). Timothy Dalton
does a horrendous Sean Connery impersonation and Terry O'Quinn ("The Stepfather") mostly looks constipated. Ronny Cox acts cutely clueless as Zee's dad.
"American Outlaws?" More like Ludicrous Larcenists...
C+
For more Reeling reviews visit www.reelingreviews.com
<EMAIL_ADDRESS><EMAIL_ADDRESS>========== X-RAMR-ID: 29266 X-Language: en X-RT-ReviewID: 244597 X-RT-TitleID: 1109343 X-RT-SourceID: 386 X-RT-AuthorID: 1487 X-RT-RatingText: C+
The review above was posted to the
rec.arts.movies.reviews newsgroup (de.rec.film.kritiken for German reviews).
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You can access your email using webmail, desktop mail clients, or mobile apps.
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If you need informal (free) expert advice about anything on this page, I try to attend Arizona Research Bazaar events as often as I can—come grab a Hacky Hour beer, and let's chat!
If you need help strategizing about data (especially if you're trying to figure out how to interpret existing data sources as a graph), check out the offerings at Stardog, or feel free to contact me directly.
I design and build:
... but each of the above is easier imagined than done. Doing this kind of work almost always also involves:
Designing for data is hard—I've published several papers about why it's hard! To do it properly, it's really important for me to (1) interact directly with people in your organization that wear very different hats, and (2) pivot frequently between wearing many of these hats myself.
This list is a summary of my experience in various roles.
Have a specific technology that you need me to work with? Here's an overview of what I've dealt with in the past, and what I'd like an excuse to learn more about.
Is something missing? Want to know more about what I mean by my star ratings? Please contact me!
(Salty opinion): these lists are never exhaustive, nor do they indicate what a candidate can learn—this interface could use a redesign, but I don't (yet) really know all that much about what it's like to hire somebody like me. For now, Control (or Command) + F is your friend if you're looking for something specific.


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The No-Go Theorems of Quantum Information Theory (Part 1)
I review the no-cloning theorem as well as some of the less well-known no-go theorems in quantum information theory.
I review the no-cloning theorem as well as some of the less well-known no-go theorems in quantum information theory.
I derive the expression for the centripetal force on a particle moving with uniform circular motion.
I derive the electric field around a thin, charged spherical shell using Coulomb's law.
I finish up the discussion of binary star systems by going over some of the properties of the equations that I derived last week. I then present the results in the context of Kepler's laws.
I derive the equations that describe the orbit of a binary star system.
I explain the concept of reduced mass and then demonstrate how it is used in the context of binary star systems.
I go through the Cartesian sign convention that is used in the derivation of apparent depth.
I review J.J. Thomson's derivation of the Larmor formula.
I set up the classical electromagnetic Hamiltonian and use it to derive the Lorentz force.
I analyze some of the commutation relations in the presence of spin-orbit interaction and explain some of their consequences.


January 9, 2000
by Terry L. Howe
It was a typical cold day in January when we met at 8am at the Red Rocks
Shopping Center. Dave and Kelly arrived in their Jeep Cherokee, Paul
showed up in his Toyota pickup instead of his flat fender, Curtis, Connie,
and Brooke were in their Bronco, and I was "leading" in my CJ-2A.
We headed up to Hotel Gulch which runs from rt 67 to Rampart Range Road.
We arrived at the trail head, locked them in, aired down, and put on chains
if available. We got to the point in the road where it was no long plowed and
I jumped in. I didn't get far before it got pretty hard. I was a bit reluctant
to drag every down the trail, so I backed out. Dave decided to give it a
try and made some good progress.
The snow was sugar snow and not crusty at all, so traction was very poor. Dave
was leading most of the way until his trans got hot and he decided to let
Curtis lead for a while. Curtis is locked up and had chains on all fours, so
he was moving pretty well. Paul was bouncing around with the pickup being
open all around and not having a real aggressive tire.
We made it pretty far, but it wasn't getting easier. We decided to pause for
a while and turn around. Going out was easy since it was all down hill. We
got out of the trail by about 1pm and everyone packed up and aired up. Another
fun day of wheeling.
|


Hello All,
Still fairly new to EmonCMS but keen to know if its possible to get energy usage data from the Current Cost Envir into EmonCMS via the cloud? I know someone did it by hacking the hardware/firmware of a CCEnvir but i was hoping it might be easy enough to knock up a script or plugin to suck the data from xivley or even better currentcost.com into a more customisable EmonCMS dashboard.
Be glad of any assistance :)
Thanks in advance!
Re: Pull data from my.currentcost.com or xivley.com into EmonCMS
Hello Bert, Im not very familiar with currentcost, but I know xively has a good API, Can you access your data on xively? How much data do you need to transfer? Emoncms's import functionality is a little limited at the moment, its something that I need to look at
Re: Pull data from my.currentcost.com or xivley.com into EmonCMS
Thanks Tristan,
Yes Xivleys API allows yuo to read data and write data. See here:
https://personal.xively.com/dev/docs/api/quick_reference/api_resources/
I think it would be really nice for Emon CMS to be able to pull data from data repositories such as Xivley as it would allow users to manipulate and display data exactly as they wish without limitation.
Re: Pull data from my.currentcost.com or xivley.com into EmonCMS
Nobody else got any clues on this? I thought that one of two ways would be ideal:
Option 1 - a standalone, scheduled perl script that ran on the emoncms server that used a READ json and pulled relevant data from personal.xively.com and then used a WRITE to post the data on emoncms
Option 2 - a plugin for emon cms that allowed you to input your Xivley API key and feed id and assign that to a feed in emoncms
Can anyone point me in the direction of an accomplished emoncms coder that might be interested in deving this for a fee?
Re: Pull data from my.currentcost.com or xivley.com into EmonCMS
I don't know how to accomplish this Bert, but I suspect you use a CurrentCost Envir. If you want to have a script to feed data from the Envir to Emoncms, then have a look here: http://openenergymonitor.org/emon/node/1418
Re: Pull data from my.currentcost.com or xivley.com into EmonCMS
Hi
I gave up using clouds and other stuff and did it with a tiny bananpi connected via the usb/serial cable to the current cost.
I found a running PERL script here but it has some flaws so I enhanced it and I'm using it for several IAMs at the moment.
I also use this script to send the data to pvoutput.org so that I have the data also there where my PV setup will send the data to. I always have the data on my emoncms installation and pvoutput.org :-)
Here is the script I've enhanced:
To use it for all sensors you have to add the sensorcount to the following line:
if ( ($meas >= $count_limit) && ($sensor_count0 > 0) && ($sensor_count1 > 0) && ($sensor_count2 > 0) && ($sensor_count4 > 0) ) {
You also have to add the missing sensors to the existing parameters in the link:
my $emon_url = "http://$host/input/post.json?apikey=$emoncmskey\&node=$node\&json={house_power:$avg_watts_sensor0,room_temp:$avg_temp,heatpump_power:$avg_watts_sensor1,buero_power:$avg_watts_sensor2,foodcenter_power:$avg_watts_sensor4}";
I think you will get it :-)
It's working here: http://swiss-solar-log.ch:85/firefox/Hausverbra
[Duplicate post deleted. Please read this. Moderator - RW]
Re: Pull data from my.currentcost.com or xivley.com into EmonCMS
@firefox7158
Thanks! that is a solid looking script. Appreciate you sharing it here. I will keep this bookmarked in my list of tools to try if my cloud solution fails to get off the ground!


Passengers lament as Rwandair dumps Nigerians’ luggage in Dubai
by Maureen Ihua-MaduenyiMaureen Ihua-Maduenyi
Scores of Nigerian passengers on Rwandair flight to Lagos on Thursday were left in shock after they discovered that the airline had dropped their luggage in Dubai without their knowledge.
The passengers were left in frustration following the absence of any official of the Rwandan national carrier to offer any explanation on why their pieces of luggage were not loaded in Dubai after they were dully checked and tagged without questioning.
Trouble started for the Nigerian passengers on Rwandair flight WB 202 from Kigali to Lagos at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Lagos, after they had waited endlessly for their luggage at the airport’s conveyor belt.
An official of the Federal Airports Authority of Nigeria however confirmed their fears when he told them that there were no more bags on the flight for loading to the belt.
“These are the bags on Rwandair flight. We don’t have any other bags coming,” said the official, whose name could not be ascertained.
A female passenger, who had boarded the airline’s flight WB 305 from Dubai to Kigali on Thursday morning, who simply gave her name as Joyce, lamented that the keys to her house were in one of her four bags that were not loaded.
“How can I get in now? The keys to my house are in one of the bags. This is very unfair and unfortunate. Things are usually like this when it comes to Nigeria,” she said before another official of FAAN took her up on her perceived attack.
The official, who spoke on condition of anonymity, asked the distressed lady whether Nigerian officials loaded the luggage in Dubai.
“When you were going to Dubai, you got your luggage in Dubai; Nigerian officials loaded that. The ones you cannot get here now, officials in the United Arab Emirates loaded them, not Nigerian officials. So, you cannot blame Nigerians for that; blame the airline,” said the official.
Another lady, who also did not want to be named, said she was on her way to Port Harcourt, wondering how and when she would get her luggage and how she would put up in Lagos before her journey to the Rivers State capital.
A male passenger on the flight also said, “I have two bags and neither of the two is here. My house key is in one of them because I never envisaged something like this would happen.”
One of the FAAN officials believed the luggage could arrive on the Rwandair next flight to Lagos on Friday afternoon. Copyright PUNCH.
All rights reserved. This material, and other digital content on this website, may not be reproduced, published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed in whole or in part without prior express written permission from PUNCH.
Contact: theeditor@punchng.com


Rapid Recap: Celtics start road trip with 10th straight win, 105-100
by Mike DynonRapid Recap is designed for the busiest of Celtics fans. Whether you can’t stay awake to read 10 paragraphs or your hangover is just too much, Rapid Recap tells the timeline of the game in only a minute or two.
Home, road, doesn’t matter – Celtics win again. The Cs began a five-game trip out west with their 10th consecutive win, 105-100, over the Golden State Warriors at their new arena. Boston was led by the potential All-Star trio of Jayson Tatum (24 points), Jaylen Brown (22), and Kemba Walker (20), and each of them had one huge quarter. Alec Burks led the Warriors with 20.
The night didn’t start very well.
And it got worse. The Warriors’ lead peaked at 15 and was 32-23 after 12 minutes. How? Boston shot 30%, Golden State hit 50%. This was Boston’s best play of the quarter.
No worries. The Celts turned it around in the second quarter. The defense forced six Warriors turnovers in the period.
When the halftime buzzer sounded, the Cs held a 52-51 advantage. Tatum led all scorers with 17 (a dozen in the second).
Good start to the third.
Smart drained his fourth triple, making it four straight games where he’s made that many. (He finished with 5 threes and 15 points.)
Jaylen went off in the quarter, making 3-3 from the arc on his way to 13 points, and added 2 boards, 2 assists and 2 steals. The Warriors made just 4-15 and committed 9 turnovers in the quarter. Boston led 76-71 going to the fourth.
The fourth started badly for GS.
But they turned up the aggression, got to the rim and the line, and took a lead. The refs were a factor: Warriors shot 13 free throws in the quarter to the Celtics’ 8 (for the game, GS 34, Boston 23).
It was back and forth down the stretch as neither team would give in.
It’s so weird that the Warriors are unrecognizable now.
The game turned when an out-of-bounds call was overturned – Smart made a great save – with 1:39 remaining. Instead of Warriors’ possession, there was a jump ball. Tatum picked off the tip and went in for a dunk that put the Cs ahead, 98-97.
A defensive stop and a Tatum fadeaway in the lane gave Boston a three-point lead. Another stop and a Kemba stepback made it five, and completed a 12-0 run. Walker scored 14 in the fourth.
A Jaylen FT made it 106-97, and after a GS triple, two at the line from Kemba closed it out.


I have experience leading large teams coming from diverse backgrounds, developing mobile and Full Stack projects, managing and organically growing social media accounts, researching and hosting community events, directing and editing video projects and so much more!
View Resume View PortfolioHere is a selection of some of my favorite projects I have worked on throughout my college career. These range from apps to websites to theoretical analyses on digital influencers to documentaries to transmedia webseries and to much more - take a peek, and I hope you learn something new!
I believe it's important to start each task or day with these values in mind. Without them, life would be nowhere near as exciting as it could be, and work would be a drag.
I like to think that I am constantly exercising creativity - whether it be in code, writing, or media; 'unsolvable' problems become a lot more manageable when you take a step back and look at all possible approaches.
Every task, whether it is successful or not, is an opportunity to learn something new and to grow as an individual. By accepting the growth mindset, we are able to stay determined through hardship and come back stronger than ever.
No matter what you are working on, give it your all! I try to make sure each project I work on is my personal best; and by doing so, I am always proud of whatever I am able to accomplish.
Most importantly, it is important to stay positive and have fun with whatever you are doing. Positivity brings a sense of fulfillment to whatever you do - if you enjoy your job, is it really work?


THE WEDDING PLANNER A film review by Christopher Null Copyright 2001 filmcritic.com filmcritic.com
Ah, welcome to San Francisco, the place I call home. It's a city of exorbitant housing costs where we're facing two years of electricity blackouts, and it's home to some of the most ridiculously magical romances ever conceived. (See also: The Bachelor.)
In what is either a sassy updating of the fable of marriage or a vicious lambasting of its sanctity, depending on your point of view, The Wedding Planner presents us with Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey as an unlikely pair who somehow manage to get together -- against all odds, of course.
Utterly absurd and hopelessly dated from its opening scenes (Bridgette Wilson-Sampras plays a millionaire who made her fortune by selling gourmet food on the Internet -- uh huh), The Wedding Planner borrows heavily from My Best Friend's Wedding without getting much of its humor. The tired story is predictable: Lopez's Italian(!), anal-retentive Mary (so particular that she alphabetizes the credit cards in her wallet) runs into Steve (McConaughey) on a San Francisco street, and soon they're whisked off to an impromptu date in Golden Gate Park. Oops -- l'il Stevie is about to get hitched to Fran (Wilson-Sampras), and Mary's been hired to plan the wedding!
Sounds like fun, no? Well, for short stretches of The Wedding Planner, it is.  When Fran's family goes horseback riding (for some reason bringing Mary along on the trip), of course her horse is going to bolt and Steve will have to save her.  But the biggest insult has to be a truly wretched subplot, which has Mary's father (Alex Rocco) actually arranging a marriage for Mary with some schlub from back home.
Considering the source material, I'm not terribly surprised by any of this. Clearly intended as a vanity project and star vehicle for Jennifer Lopez to continue her climb through the ranks of Hollywood, the script is the first-produced film from writers Pamela Falk and Michael Ellis (feuding lovers themselves, how cute!), and the first major directorial work of Adam Shankman, best known for being a choreographer on more than 20 films, from Mission to Mars to Weekend at Bernies II. The movie screams amateurism because it really is the work of amateurs. That said, the cinematographer does manage to get Alcatraz, the Transamerica Pyramid, and many other S.F. landmarks in just about every shot -- nicely done!
Anyway, never mind that arranged marriage crack -- I have to say the biggest insult is actually that we're supposed to believe Matthew McConaughey is really having trouble choosing between Bridgette Wilson-Sampras and Jennifer Lopez. Wilson-Sampras is a fading B-lister with a pointy chin and a bad dye job who starred in Love Stinks.
You do the math.

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Craig David, DJ EZ And What So Not Lead Electric Gardens’ Massive 2020 Line-Up
by Joseph EarpIn the three and a bit years since it first came Down Under, Electric Gardens has slowly risen to become one of the stand-out events on the dance music calendar.
Each year the line-up grows more diverse and fascinating, showcasing the true range of pioneers working in electro and house today. And hey, guess what: the 2020 bill is no different.
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First off the rank is Craig David, who’ll be bringing his TS5 project to our shores. Next up is DJ EZ, hailed by many to be the best DJ working in the world today; UK-based electro titans Gorgon City; weirdo auteur Reinier Zonneveld; and the beloved and experimental What So Not. Better still, that’s only the start of the line-up — there’s still more announcements to come.
Tickets go on pre-sale this Thursday November 21 at noon, and then on general sale 24 hours later. Electric Gardens will hit Sydney’s Centennial Park on Saturday February 22.
Electric Gardens 2020 Line-Up:
Craig David
DJ EZ
Gorgon City
What So Not
Wilkinson
Alan Fitzpatrick
Ann Clue
Eelke Kleijn
Koan Sound
My Nu Leng
Nora En Pure
Pan-Pot
Reinier Zonneveld,
Rene Lavice
Shockone


Guitar Hero Played On Side of House in Christmas Lights
Why just for Christmas? How about 4th of July? Mardi Gras?If time allows (which it doesn’t), this will be my next home project.This isn’t the first time Christmas lights have met Guitar Hero on the pages of Gizmodo, but this former Disney employee’s efforts are definitely the best use of the game that I’ve ever seen.
Using 21,268 lights and LEDs, ex-Disney imagineer and special effects specialist Ric Turner turned the front of his house into the perfect setting for a Guitar Hero Christmas lights spectacular.
As he explains:
Christmas Light Hero is using 7 light controllers from Light-O-Rama built from kits to control 21,268 lights and LEDs. Each controller has 16 outputs and 2-3 TTL level control inputs that are used by the game system to fire different programmed light sequences depending on what happens in the game. It relies on the fact that the game sequence is very consistent. If the game and the lighting sequences start together, they will stay in very good sync through the length of the song. The light program allows branching and overlays for fail, star power and “ready.” I have some ideas to automate the initial show/game sync, but for now you have to push doorbell buttons at the right moments.
Rubberneckers watching in their cars can tune into the frequency 99.1 to hear the audio, or even partake in the fun if they dare. [YouTube via MAKE via Geekologie]


Brief Battles Brings Butts, Pants And A Cast Of Indie Stars To Switch In February
Crossovers with Yooka-Laylee, World of Goo and more
by Ryan CraddockJuicy Cupcake has revealed that its "butt 'em up" game, Brief Battles, is bopping its way to a Switch near you in February.
A brand new trailer has been released (see above), revealing a 21st February release date and showing off plenty of the underwear-fueled party action you can expect to enjoy on that very day. The game has you using your underpants to scramble around, grab power-ups, and fight your friends - a series of events which sounds scarily familiar to those that take place in the Nintendo Life office once we start getting bored at around 3pm.
The Switch version of Brief Battles is said to run "slick and fast, with camera tracking and UI improvements". It also comes with plenty of crossover skins for characters you'll know and love from other games:
Meet our Crossover Underwearrior Skins!
- Yooka-Laylee Violet (Based on Yooka & Laylee from Yooka-Laylee)
- CommanderVideo Chad (Based on CommanderVideo from Bit.Trip Runner)
- Goo Kevin (Based on Goo from World of Goo)
- Machinarium Tubbins (Based on Josef from Machinarium)
- Toto Sparrow Deluxe (Based on the Red toto from Toto Temple Deluxe)
- Stumpy Kevin (Based on the Stumpt YouTube channel mascot, Stumpy)
You can play with up to three friends and choose from a variety of modes including Classic Battle, Hold The Gold, and Underpants Collector. Solo players needn't worry, though, as solo challenges are also offered with plenty of rewards to unlock.
Like the sound of this one? Then get your butts to the comment section and tell us below.