What is it? A gorgeous estate owned by the Rockefellers.  There’s a tour of the main house, a tour of the gardens — including perhaps the most stunning view of the Hudson River Valley I’ve ever seen — as well as a tour of the Coach Barn / garage and the modern art galleries.  Our tour guide was also pretty bitchy:  he hissed at someone in our group with a camera “what don’t you understand about ‘no photographs’?!”  meee-ow.

How far is it from Brooklyn? It’s in Sleepy Hollow in the lower Hudson River Valley, about an hour away I guess.  Use Google Maps if you want to go.

How old is it? What am I, the Oracle of Delphi?  Haha just kidding, just preparing you for the bitchy tour guide.  The Rockefeller estate was built in XX by whoever built the Acropolis.

When did it become a museum? I bet you can find the answer on Wikipedia…

What other nerdy things do I need to know? Well, John Jr.’s wife was a founder of the Museum of Modern Art in NYC, so there’s a pretty thorough art gallery in the basement.  I found it boring, but maybe because I was all juiced up on how old rich people live.  The one cool thing though were huge tapestries of Picasso paintings created with his approval when he was alive.  There’s a pretty cool butler’s pantry and dumbwaiter and a nice display of fancy old china.

The logistics: Tickets are $15 to $38 per person and tours last from 1 to 3 hours.   You have to buy your tickets at the Kykuit Visitor Center on Route 9 in Sleep Hollow and then take a shuttle up to the site.  Leave enough time for a visit to Philipsburg Manor an old working farm right behind the Visitor Center.

What is it? Fancy old mansion from the 18th century.  It’s furnished and there are pretty gardens and a formal tour.  But it’s only open on weekends until 4 and probably not during the winter.

How far is it from Brooklyn? It’s in Pelham in the Bronx, so about 40 minutes.  I got lost trying to find it so make sure you use the GPS.

How old is it? Robert Bartow built the current mansion in 1836.  But the site dates back to 1654 when Bartow’s great great grandwhatever bought the land from the Siwanoy Indians.  In a cute little homage to that swap, there’s a wigman on the grounds that you can poke your head into.

When did it become a museum? 1946, though the Bartow family sold the estate to the City of New York in 1888.  In the intervening years, it served as the clubhouse for the International Garden Club and the temporary headquarters of Mayor Fiorella H. LaGuardia, in 1936.

What other nerdy things do I need to know? Well kids, it contains a desk owned by Alexander Hamilton.  And everyone loves the enormous free standing spiral staircase in the front entryway.  A guidebook I read said to make sure you don’t forget the bathroom added by LaGuardia on the second floor, but it’s pretty boring.  Check out how tiny the beds are — my tour guide said it was because people liked to sleep sitting up to avoid TB.  I think in the pre-Flinstones-Chewables days, people were very, very tiny.

The logistics: The mansion is located at Pelham Bay Park, 895 Shore Road, Bronx.  It’s hours are XX and it’s free with a donation.  There is parking and a mini gift shop.

Chỉ là bội-ước. (P1090874-W1), originally uploaded by Nguyen K. Do.

(những lời hẹn / thề)

Large On Black

Eltham, November 2009.
Nguyen K. Do © 2009

By Michael Hughes       November 27, 2009

The Hilfiger luxury estate listed at around $28M sold for $20M in Greenwich, Connecticut.  Sotheby’s International Realty says the mansion is being purchased by a family who toured it in September.

The mansion features a 2,000 bottle wine cellar, indoor basketball court, sauna, massage room with a waterfall and home theater.  It sports eight bedrooms and nine bathrooms boasting over 20,000 square feet of living space.

Hilfiger purchased the home in 2005 for $18 million.  It has been on the market since 2008.  The designers’ reason cited for moving was to relocate to New York City.

The Hilfiger mansion is located on Connecticut”s Gold Coast which has an abundance of suburban/country perfection.  and is home to Martha Stewart Judge Judy and Mary Tyler Moore to mention a few.

You’re stupid. You’ve admitted it, and now you’re seeking help. I want to congratulate you! That’s the first step towards making your stupid life better.
First thing’s first though; you are stupid and will be forever. This book will not change that. This book will however, mask your stupidity from the rest of the world and may lead to promotions, dating, new job opportunities, more friends, and definitely more confidence!
It’s not easy to fool people when you’re stupid. Especially people who aren’t stupid. Let’s call this type of people “Smart” people, shall we? Smart people are very quick to pick up on the fact that you’re stupid. You’ve got to be perfect from the beginning around them, or else they will see you as a sheep in wolf’s clothing. That’s an example of a “smart” idea: a truncated and intentionally-reversed extended metaphor using the structure of a simile. You scoffed at things like this in school, but metaphors, similes, and other clever literary devices are a fundamental part of smart people conversation. Similes and metaphors are discussed in detail later in this book, so we won’t worry about them now.
Instead, what we’ll focus on now is the face you made after reading that sentence about the wolf and the sheep. You scrunched your nose tightly and rolled your eyes around in the hopes that your brain would explain why I was talking about animals. If you are smarter, but still stupid, you waited to make the face until I started talking about all that simile and metaphor stuff. This frowny-eye-rolling is a common face that stupid people make when presented with something that bores them or something they don’t understand. This book is about fixing stupid habits just like that face!
Most of the stupid habits you have are based on your stupid instincts. Right now, I want you to close your mouth, and breathe through your nose. TRUST ME, you won’t suffocate! Go ahead and try it. You see? Now you know you can trust me.
It’s not necessary to understand WHY I want you to do the things I want you to do. The important thing is that you DO them and practice them, over and over, for the rest of your life. Most of these things will be difficult. Breathing through your nose alone will take years for you to master. You currently breathe through your mouth because the “instinct” part of your brain is looking out for your survival. This is because the cognitive or “thinking” part of your brain isn’t capable of making good decisions. Stupid people like yourself are prone to doing things directly opposed to your own survival. For instance, I’m sure you’ve found yourself at one time or another in a single-person competition for stuffing the most miniature marshmallows into your nose to see how many will fit. Since this is literally smothering yourself for no reason, your brain makes you breathe out of your mouth, since it figures you’ll live longer that way.
Don’t worry! You will still be able to indulge all of your fun, stupid impulses. I’ll simply teach you how to save them for “private time”, or “stupid friend hang-out time.” when you’re around other people as stupid, or more stupid, than you are. This book is full of helpful, good habits like “stupid friend hang-out time”. However, every habit will take practice to master, so I want you to make a promise with me.
Go ahead and read this out loud: “I promise that I will follow the instructions in this book. I promise that I will practice every day, and that I won’t give up, no matter how frustrating it is for my stupid brain. Sincerely, me!”
There. You’ve just made a promise to both you and I. You said it out loud, so you have to stick to it. It’s too late to turn back now, which is wonderful, because you’re going to have a great new life! (if you think you and I are the same person, or opposite people from when this introduction began, you’re still reading out loud. Please stop reading out loud.)
To create a sense of familiarity, which will subconsciously compel you to finish the rest of the chapters through recognition, despite your short attention span, Just for fun, I’ll give you a brief overview of the topics we will cover in-depth during the rest of this guide.
The first half of this book is all about breaking down and hiding the stupid things you do:
Chapter 1 is what you’re reading right now.
In chapter 2, I will tell you tricks to keep your stupid life separate from your new smart life. This will be an ongoing process. You will learn to enjoy top 40 music and Michael Bay movies secretly while alone or with a few select stupid friends, instead of loudly and in front of everyone.
In chapter 3, I’ll teach you how to shut your mouth before it says the stupid thing you just thought. You’ll learn to use silence with making faces to pretend that you’re deep in thought.
The second half of this book is all about the tricks you can use to pretend you’re smart:
In chapter 4, we’ll reread the first half of the book, because you’ll have skipped ahead, thinking you didn’t need to learn those techniques and “do homework from a stupid book”.
In chapter 5, you get a makeover! As fun as it seems, this will actually be one of the hardest sections of the book, and one of the most important. You will learn to dress in a “nerd costume” for the rest of your life. Calm down! Stop wrinkling your face, stop chewing your lip, quit punching whatever you’re punching, and listen up. You know deep down that “nerds” are the very smartest of smart people. The benefit of looking like a nerd is that smart people will assume you are socially awkward instead of stupid and will therefore more readily ignore whenever you slip up and do stupid things.
In chapter 6, I’ll discuss using props to appear smart. We will discuss scavenging techniques for smart props, including making habits for success. You’ll learn how to search local coffee shops every morning for partially-completed crossword puzzles to spend the rest of the day pretending to fill out. Tips like this will give silent proof of your “smarts” when people might otherwise see through your smart costume.
In chapter 7, I’ll help you get into the habit of saying smart things and inventing opinions. It DOESN’T MATTER what your opinions are. The only important thing is to NEVER CHANGE YOUR MIND about your opinions. You’ll learn to be condescending about other people’s opinions. I’ll even teach you phrases to use if you get into hot water with someone such as “I suppose we’ll just have to agree to disagree!” You’ll also learn to memorize a single generic quote to use at parties and whenever you want to impress someone of the opposite sex.
The third half of this book is all about using your newfound techniques to SECURE your future:
In chapter 8, I’ll give you a lie detector test to be sure you’ve read every chapter thoroughly. If not, i’ll remind you that you made a promise to me, and make you go back and read what you skipped.
In chapter 9, I’ll teach you about material investments. It’s important to invest in “things” and “stuff” that will make you appear smart for the rest of your life: a modestly large house, a slightly above-average car, and many more material things. Your stupid thinking is right in assuming the more things you own, the better; but you have to own the RIGHT KINDS of things! Filling your house with the right long-term props is very important. You’ll learn about chess and backgammon boards. You’ll check prices on pianos and expensive-looking (but not extravagant!) artwork.
In chapter 10, you’ll hire an accountant and do EXACTLY what they tell you do with your money. I’ll tell you briefly what a saving account is and why it’s better not to run out and spend every paycheck immediately on liquor and clubbing. Even though you won’t understand right away why this is bad; when you see how savings and investments lead to MORE liquor, you’ll be happy you listened.
In chapter 11, you’ll invent a new category of people you can look down on for the rest of your life, like “Liberal Elites” or “Right Wing Fascists”. This is a prime time to hire a writer to write a book with your name on it! Tell everyone you wrote the book. This is key.
In our last chapter, chapter 12, you’ll make the most important investment in your future; tricking a beautiful INTELLIGENT person into loving and marrying you. This will be the most difficult thing you will EVER do and it will take all the resources you’ve built and all the techniques you’ve learned. You will master keeping your stupid life and your smart life separate by passing off your stupidity once and for all as something else. We will discuss faking Asperger’s Syndrome, Social Anxiety Disorder, and the like.
By the end of this book, you will be a new person; a person you’ve invented. You will be successful beyond belief, and you’ll have someone who loves you for the rest of your life.
Does this sound too good to be true? Well guess what? I’M A STUPID JUST LIKE YOU! Or at least, I used to be. But following my own system, I’ve made a wonderful, explosive new life as a SMART! I’m CEO of my own Fortune 500 company, I have a syndicated talk radio show, I’m married to a supermodel, I live in a mansion in Beverly Hills, and I have three somewhat intelligent children. I’m sure you don’t believe me, but it’s true. All the “smart” phrases I’ve used in this book were painfully constructed over several years using a dictionary, a smart writer friend, and the help of my brilliant wife. My system worked for me! IT WILL WORK FOR YOU!!!

Biltmore Estates

Clingstone, a 103 years old mansion in Rhode Island, arranged in retro style, is one of the most unusual homes around the world. It sits above the water, over a cliff that serves as foundation.

Henry Wood, the owner, manages the home with dedication and skill, enjoying family and friends help. The Rhode Island port is hosting the family’s boats and floating dock, sheltering them during winter, in exchange of using the house for one week during the summer.

Mr Wood, a 79 year old architect from Boston, bought the house, along with his former wife, Joan, in 1961, for 3,600 dollars. It stayed uninhabited for 20 years. Clingston was built by a distant cousin, JS Lovering Warton. He worked with an artist, William Trost Richards, to create a three-story house with 23 rooms, to throne the rock of Narragansett Bay. The total cost of construction, completed in 1905, were $ 36,982. Today, the mansion is valued at 4 million dollars.

The house is maintained by an ingenious method: the “Clingstone working weekend”. Held each year around Memorial Day, gathers around 70 friends and Clingstone admirers to perform maintenance tasks, like cleaning the 65 windows of the house. Currently Clingstone holds ten bedrooms, each with a spectacular view and the dining room offers 14 seats.

Through the creaking gates, you’d best beware. A spooky mansion awaits. . . enter if you dare! Go on an adventurous journey while trapped inside a dark, mysterious house in I SPY™ Spooky Mansion Deluxe! Adjust the sound effects’ volume to your preference as you explore the creepy rooms of the house using an intuitive hint system. Solve the Hidden Object puzzles and reveal thrilling secrets as you uncover different and surprising ways out of the house in this family friendly game.

Eerie atmosphere

Spooky puzzles

Escape the haunted mansion!

System Requirements:

OS: Windows XP/Vista

CPU: 600 Mhz

RAM: 256 MB

DirectX: 7.1

Hard Drive: 292 MB

It Takes Just A second To Say Thanks,

It Takes Longer To The Work On This.

I SPY: Spooky Mansion

Hello world.

I see many pics of mega homes and mansions. My question is: even if you did have the paper to purchase/build something like this, would you want to? Would it still feel like home?

I just got home from playing Coco Deville….  It was an event for some t-mobile shit…..  So what was in the giftbag????? Not a phone…….it was a mug. WTF?!?!? Awesome.  The crowd was ghetto for Coco……Lots of Eazy-E, Snoop Dogg, Fly Boys, and lets not forget a lil’ Ginuwine…..Pony got those girls gettin’ low…….Some chick puked in the back and at the end of the night the manager was walking around with a lost bra…….how does that happen.  People were stoked, singing along n’ shit.  My girl and I came up on some crucial iphone accessories…..

I just joined the Next Music Group Dj pool and they gave me a stack of cd’s to go through….. Looking forward to hearing new tunes and tell u whats what.

Getting ready for a big mansion party saturday night!!!!!

Goodnight Peeps!

The setting was superb. Nothing would spoil the wedding breakfast.

One of the rules of NaNo is that one writes and DOES NOT EDIT until the required minimum wordcount of 50,000 words (or end of novel, if that adds up to more) is reached. But for your sake, dear Reader, I have edited a little. Corrected spelling and typos. Otherwise it is open to revision and redoing in December

This, therefore, for good or for ill, is an excerpt from my work-in-progress: or NaNo WIP.
I hope you enjoy. It’s a miracle to witness the continuing flow, I can tell you.

All had been made ready for the guests. The bride waited at the head of the stairs

Horses and carriages stood at the gates, a long line of opulence and conspicuous wealth, each waiting its turn to process down the shady lime avenue which heralded the last mile of approach to the house.

Not a family in Aberdeenshire had been ignored. Invitations sent in January by messenger, hand delivered to Clubs and castles throughout the shire ensured that the assembled gathering would be the greatest affair in the social calendar for a generation. John Ramsay Irvine was going to make sure his daughter’s marriage was witnessed by them all. Grooms and stablehands were lined up at the curved façade to help ladies down awkward steps as consorts and cousins and brothers assisted with the finery, petticoats and layers of taffeta and veils billowing in the slight breeze.

The day was glorious: mid June brilliance with a scent of abundance in the air.

A phalanx of footmen ushered ladies into the house to powder noses, while gentlemen were escorted to the gigantic marquée set on the lawn, hands charged with a glass of champagne immediately they stepped under the awning. Butlers and footmen manfully shouldered silver trays groaning under the weight of crystal brimming with bubbles. Chatter was loud but festive. The ladies would join them in a moment. For now the tent was dominated by menfolk catching up with colleagues, discussing the week’s affairs, arrangements for the shooting season in late summer, and whose house-party already had its quota of family and summertime guests.

When the first of the ladies emerged from downstairs boudoirs and stepped into the light of the terrace, a hush descended on the crowd. Every one of them, matron, maid, young miss was adorned in finery, as if they individually were to be the bride: tiaras appeared glinting in the sun: getting a summer airing from safes and velvet boxes they’d nestled in since Christmas or for parties at Hogmanay. Pearls and rubies shone and sapphire necklaces extracted from bank vaults for this special occasion reflected blue light from the lake.

Brother Hugh stood alone, apart from the jostling crowd, waiting for a signal from his mother’s window that Catherine would soon be ready to take his arm; for him to proceed with her to the little chapel across the lawn to the glade of trees down by the lake. But carriages were still appearing, stopping at the great entrance to unload more adorned maidens with doting brothers or fiancés, and trundling slowly off to the Home Farm where grooms and drivers would wait to be summoned again after it was all over. A long procession still stretched down the lime avenue as far as Hugh could see. There was no rush yet to summon Catherine and her maids.

In the upstairs chamber with its four-poster usually reserved for her mother, Catherine stood radiant. She was to wear Great-grandfather’s South Seas pearls and the ruby necklace brought with him from Russia when he was a successful merchant plying Baltic waters to Danzig. It was now family tradition that these, the first glittering evidence of John Ramsay’s fortune, should be worn by every bride since 1758, the year that the adventurer purchased the Straloch estate from the famous cartographer, Robert Gordon of Straloch. It had been Ramsay’s fortune which built the grand mansion in its grounds.

Today Catherine felt like a swan gazing in her mother’s long dress-mirror at the sparkling jewels round her white neck. There was something about these new continental gowns, the low ‘empire’ line made fashionable by the ladies of Napoleon’s court . The British may have defeated the dictator, but his ladies’ fashion sense lingered on. The high bosom and low neckline made her feel dizzy in the shafts of sunlight glancing through the gauze curtains. It danced and shifted, casting a pool of light at her feet. She allowed herself to peer over her sudden perky breasts at the pompom slippers of maroon silk which peeped out below the vanilla silk hem of her gown. Mother was right. This new line may be a little too daring for such a backwater as Aberdeenshire, but it was just the most beautiful creation she had ever seen and she was standing in it, allowing its long pointed sleeves to hug her delicate wrists, the tight waistband to nip her small frame even more closely than she ever would have dared at a normal party.

‘Everything is allowed for a wedding, my dear. Even daring narrow waists and low necklines.’ If her mother’s voice had a hint of disapproval, it was covered by laughter. Tones tinkled in pride at the sight of her daughter’s surprise.

“We may be of merchant stock, but Grandfather knew a jewel or two. And I must say they do add a je ne sais quoi to your already fabulous beauty.’ Her mother laughed again. ‘I may not be the one to say, but it does run in the family.’

She reached out her own silk-gloved hand to caress the folds at the rear of her daughter’s gown, smoothing an imaginary crease.

Bridesmaids in the ante room behind the pillar giggled and, seeing Catherine’s mother smile and beckon, fell into the room in a huddle of lace and satin and pink pumps.

‘Careful, girls. We don’t want any accidents.’

All four glanced at each other and then at their hostess and giggled again.

‘I wish it were all over. No, of course I don’t but Hugh said he’d start the procession at least by two. It must be close to three.’ Catherine’s small face crinkled in a fleeting frown, scanning her mother’s profile. One of the house maids popped her head round the door.

‘Carriages still coming, m’lady,’ she said, bobbing a hasty curtsey. ‘Master Hugh says another glass of champagne should settle the gentlemen. He wants to know if you would like some up here.’

‘Most certainly not. Thank you, Rose. Tell the Master we shall wait for his signal.’ The maid’s head disappeared again.

‘I can see the end of the carriages.’ A tiny gloved hand holding its regulation posy of roses dropped the long curtain at the window and one of the Burnett girls burst into a fit of giggles. Another grabbed the curtain and then she too dropped it with a guilty look. She turned to the other bridesmaids and whispered
‘It’ll be the bridegroom in the very last carriage.’

‘I heard that.’

Catherine was nervous as a kitten. The last thing she wanted to know was news that that her darling, handsome husband-to-be was the last to arrive. She swept the thought aside. Henry was like her brother Hugh: so strong and brave. Such a pity Father was no longer well enough to sit up, far less be wheeled to the ceremony. But until she became Henry’s, Hugh would be her rock. He would more than make up for her father’s infirmity.

Hugh had turned out like his grandfather: he’d continued the work begun by Great-grandfather in the 244 acre estate after he built the palladian mansion, just as father and grandfather had done. Nowadays there was talk in Society of how rash a move it had been, in the time of King George III, to pull down a 13th century building and put up a Georgian palace. But Great-grandfather was an innovator. He knew all the tricks and turns used by wealthy European royalty in his day and his palace was built to the scale and proportions of the great Italian architect, Palladio, whose style thereafter became the fashion.

Straloch had been revolutionary for its time. Now in the early 19th century, It was considered ‘all the rage.’ For a wedding ceremony and breakfast attended by all the County’s best families, its size and style were totally inkeeping. It had precisely the required number of public rooms, a grand ballroom, drawing room, morning room and a dining salon that none could rival. It had outlived its ‘foreignness’ and become a style which other families copied. Burnetts and Forbeses and Irvines all had since pulled down ancient towers and put up a palladian edifice in its place: at Colpy and Keig and Pittodrie, palaces were erected where cramped medieval towers had been. The Ramsay fashion had become the norm. And in Aberdeenshire, a county renowned for its conservatism, that was saying something.

Hugh was more like father in the way he cared for and tended the trees of the avenue, the stately park specimens getting most of his love and attention. And he had recently started a programme of planting the new fashion in trees: beech.

If you listened to Hugh on the endless variety of beeches one could plant… he could bore anyone to tears. It was enough to make her yawn just to think of it. Some day, of course all this would be Hugh’s. Catherine was just fortunate to be able to have such a beautiful backdrop for her Big Day. And as for father’s being an invalid and not really able to know what was going on, was something one just had to be philosophical about. He seemed more himself when she’d spoken to him this morning, wanting to share with him the excitement to come, the huge numbers who would attend. He looked at her through watery eyes, propped himself up on one elbow from the cushions on his daybed and whispered:

‘Be still in the candlelight, Darling.’

She had not the faintest idea what he meant, but she nodded her head and kissed him on the forehead.

Suddenly Annie Farquharson jumped up and down at the window, her pink slippers doing ballet turns.

‘It’s Hugh. He’s signalling to be ready. He’s pulling out his fob watch and pointing. I think he means it’s time.’

‘All right, all right, girls. No need to lose our heads. Now, we all remember the order. When Hugh comes to the door, you four go first. Ahead of him. Follow Catherine’s cousin Jamie to the head of the stairs and wait. Do you hear me? Wait until I get there.’

There came a chorus of ‘yes’.

‘He’s coming. He’s coming,’ Annie bobbed up and down more frantic than ever.

‘All right, Annie. Now into your special order, please girls. We do this as we practiced it. All right?’

Catherine felt remarkably calm. If Hugh was ready, it meant her dear beautiful wonderful sweet loving kind fiancé Henry was already down in the woodland glade by the lake; at this very moment entering the little chapel and waiting for her. The thought made her faint with pleasure. Annie’s sister June had the presence-of-mind to prop her up. She tut-tutted her support.

There was a knock at the door and Hugh was ushered in by a dressing maid. He whispered something in Mother’s ear and looked over at his sister:

‘Ready my sweet princess? I’ve never seen you more glorious than today. Really. And I’m not being brotherly. I really mean it. You could not look more perfect. I think you are right about these new styles. It’s going to be the wedding of the century.

That’s pretty bold, she thought. This is only 1822. Surely newer fashions will one day make all this seem out of date and from a different world. Again, she brushed the unruly thought aside like a wisp of stray hair in her eye, took a step towards him and grasped his outstretched hand.

‘Thank you my darling Hugh. I would not be able to do this without you.’
He smiled and led her to the door.

Each waited her turn to descend the Great Staircase

On cue, the piper at the front door thrummed up his bagpipes and began a low drone. Catherine could see outside sunlit faces turn from the awning towards the front door.

It was beginning.

She held Hugh’s arm in a tight grasp.

‘You’ll be wonderful,’ he whispered.

She smiled up at him, wishing she could say something in return, but her eyes filled with tears and she swallowed instead.

Six pages rushed past carrying golden candelabra from the drawing room to stand in two rows down the great staircase. As one of them came abreast of her and Hugh, he tripped and looked at her wildly as if to apologize for his clumsy nervousness. His companion bent over to help him fix one of the candles which was beginning to work itself loose from its holder, its flame still alight, but shaking. As one page righted himself, the other’s grasp on his own candlestick slipped.

Catherine and Hugh could only stand and watch. In slow motion, the triple glow of golden light wrapped in cherubs and foiled bacchanalian wreaths, began a downward curve towards the staircase. Hugh grabbed his sister tightly, starting to swing her torso out of the way of the falling light. For a moment all Catherine saw was light: a small flame, so tiny it could do no harm, its glow wanting so much to add to the perfection of her day. Its fall was broken by the solid mahogany ball-and-claw knob of the bannister at the head of the stairs. Instead of cascading flame-first down the stairwell into the abyss below stairs, the dislodged candle bounced back and – oh so excruciatingly slowly – turned its menacing beam on Catherine.

Bridesmaids leapt to left and right, each trying to avoid what must happen: the staircase was in disarray. Other candles started to shake and falter.

‘Hold your lights, there’. It was Hugh’s voice, so close to her ear, but it sounded a million miles away.

Her eyes were glued to the falling candle. Why was it taking so long? It should have landed by now. By now she should be able to jump sideways and out of harm’s way. But Hugh’s arm held her tight. She was immobilized. All she could do was watch, frozen in time as the dislodged candle made a soft thump – such a simple sound – and hit the top of the staircase. Candle wax spilled in all directions, some of it sparking with a flame. One tiny spark of wax fell on the hem of her gown and she stared – her eyes wide now, her mouth open in a silent scream of terror – as flames engulfed her vanilla silk underskirts.

One of the butlers held a tray. He stood crouching back by the open door of the room they had left a moment ago. Hugh let go her arm, made a couple of strides across the landing and grabbed two champagne glasses, throwing the contents at her. He missed and the liquid splashed her arm.

‘Bring me a carafe,’ he ordered, his voice sounding more like a general in Napoleon’s army than her own gentle brother.

He grabbed another two glasses and threw. This time they hit their mark, but in the few seconds’ delay, the fire had caught hold. It was burning her silk stockings. She felt heat sear her legs. It seemed to penetrate right through to the bone. Her tears couldn’t help her. Her brother’s champagne rescue was doing a little but not enough. The candle, so small and innocent a flame, was doing its worst.

Fire raged up the front of her skirt, smoke engulfing her face, her neck, the pearl and ruby necklace. A page stumbled towards Hugh carrying a bedroom ewer, its enormous weight of water slowing him down. Hugh grabbed the jug and poured its contents down her uncomplaining front. His left hand held her steady, in case she fell from the sudden mass of water. Nobody spoke. The other pages stood motionless, still in position lining the staircase. Of four bridesmaids, two were crying and two were holding gloved hands in anguish over their open mouths. Mother had stopped rigid in her tracks halfway down the staircase. She and the pages created a flimsy barrier between Catherine and the jostling crowd of onlookers beginning to push into the main entrance hall.

All could see now: she was the centre of attention: this tragic apparition, her faultless coiffure still crowning a face ravaged by tears, sleeves and gloved hands soaking wet but intact.

Rubies glittered as if they knew red was not only a colour but a flame.

And below the waist – nothing – it was all gone. She was naked except for two charred shivering legs, a vestige of maroon slippers looking like something from the Black Death. She collapsed to the floor just as Annie rushed to cover her nakedness with her vanilla stole. The last thing she heard was her mother’s voice:

‘Give her some air. Let her breathe.’

But it was father’s words which she heard in her mind:

‘Be still in the candlelight, Darling. Be still.’

Ever wanted to see inside a $5 million mansion?  Me too!  Well, today I got the chance, and thought I’d share it with you.  Enjoy!  (Oh, and if you happen to have that much laying around, then email me and I’ll send you the listing! Hah.)

I mean…pocket change, right?!

50 Cent doesn’t make empty boasts. When the Queens rapper proclaimed, “I Run New York” on “I Get Money off his third LP, “Curtis,” he meant it wholeheartedly.

Still, the general consensus is that Jay-Z rules the big apple. But, to let 50 tell it, there’s only one king and he’s not from Marcy. During an upcoming episode of “Food for Thought: Conversations with 50 Cent,” the media assassin, Harry Allen simply asked, “Why is Jay-Z widely considered king of New York, and not you?”

“There’s not another artist in New York City that generates more interest than 50 Cent,” Fif told Allen. “If we go international, Jay-Z is Beyoncé’s husband. He became more popular and relevant based on the work that Matthew [Knowles] made Beyoncé do.”

In addition to Allen, the episode also features Hot 97 radio personality Angie Martinez and sports journalist Stephen A. Smith holding conversations with Fif on a wide range of topics, including his epic SoundScan showdown with Kanye West, what he learned in his relationship with Vivica A. Fox, his new CD, “Before I Self Destruct” and his income drop according to Forbes Magazine. Serving as interviewers, Allen, Martinez and Smith also held conversations with Jay-Z for the series’ premiere back in September.

In related news, 50 is set to co-host 106 & Park with Rocsi for a three-day run starting this Thursday (November 19). He’ll then return the following Monday (November 23) and Tuesday (November 24).

“Food for Thought: Conversations with 50 Cent” premieres Thursday November 19 at 7:30 PM on BET.

By Michael MacLeod

ONLY a frail pensioner seemed to care for the whereabouts of hapless ex-Scotland gaffer George Burley today (Tues).

The out of favour 53 year-old has gone AWOL from his Edinburgh mansion having being kicked out by the SFA after a dismal World Cup qualifying campaign.

He was last seen on Monday morning, appearing dejected as he made his way to showdown talks with SFA supremo Gordon Smith at the Dakota Hotel in Lanarkshire.

Little did the ex-Hearts and Ipswich boss know that his fate was already sealed.

Yesterday an elderly neighbour popped by Burley’s home – perhaps to pass on her commiserations – but just like Burley himself, she was shown the door.

Vezi:50 Cent/Floyd Mayweather .

Via: Boo Boo Tv .

To King Gillette Ranch!

Robin and I went to one of the great parcels of land that her agency saved from developed in the hopes of maintaining wild life corredors. It’s called the King Gillette Ranch. Just like the movie director King Vidor, the maker of the Gillette razor was named King Gillette!

Here we are arriving at the park:

done

Robin took most of the still pictures, so I recommend going to her Facebook page, or Picassa. So there’s a good chance that some of you have already seen her gorgeous picture of that giant heron (I swear it looked like a blue heron.) And the picture of the strange insect in what resembled a fire poppy to me. Anyway, my East Coast eye couldn’t help but glory in the budding of roses in November. For your delectation.

"Two roses bloomed, one red, one white..."

The garbled quote is from a sonnet written by Joan Jordan, a great poet – born in Philly, last seen in one of the more remote regions of vast expanse.

More video! You’ll love this, so beautiful it is!

On a Monday after morning or before afternoon rush hours, the drive from Hollywood to Calabasas was 30 minutes tops. I was very proud of myself for clambering over walls and across fields. It was quite an adventure. If my knee is going to hurt, then hurt it shall, whether I use it or not. Apparently my left hamstring is visibly smaller than the right, so I need to get to work doing gentle knee bends, and use that giant ball in a way that is difficult to describe. I put it against the wall. I place the small of my back against the ball. I squat a bit and then rise, rolling the ball against the wall, real nice and stable like. Sounds easy enough. Do it 25 times! Three sets! Go! Tick toc. Tick toc. Go! Go! Go!

Ah, but the peaceful breeze and the sound of bird song was intoxicating. We were there for about 2 whole hours. We drove around a little, but we were ready to go home after all that activity! God bless the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy! God bless the National Park Service! Last but not least, God bless the Mountains and Recreation Conservation Authority! All examples of government working and working well! MRCA itself also proves that different levels of government can coördinate their activities effectively and efficiently. Have you driven down Mulholland Drive lately? All the houses that cluster on the very edge of parkland look intrusive and garish Why not buy that parcel of land and give it to the Park Service? People with that kind of money can build their mansions anywhere. Why, on the very edge, even clustered around park entrances, these mod stilt jobs make me ill.

Clinging to the edge

I love it when I feel game makers working hard to engage my interest. That’s exactly the way I felt while playing Gardenscapes, a new hidden object game from Playrix Entertainment that sports top notch presentation, great art, and game design that kept me perpetually wanting to play just one more puzzle.

The game begins with the player inheriting a mansion behind which sits a once resplendent garden. With the help of the butler, Austin, your job is to restore the garden to its former glory by purchasing a wide variety of ready-made elements, ranging from shrubs and gazebos to birdcages and mini-golf holes.

Problem is, you’re broke. To earn the cash necessary to renovate the backyard you decide to rummage through the mansion’s 15 rooms and sell off items in jumble sales. Each sale takes place in a single room and has the player meeting the demands of individual customers. Men and women will be wandering in and requesting things like coats, chess pieces, and kitchen ware, and it’s up to you to find these items as quickly as possible to keep customers from losing patience.

The genius here is that everything we do not only makes sense within the context of the narrative, but also moves us toward a grander goal. The faster we find objects for our customers, the happier they are and the more money they’ll pay. The more money we earn, the quicker we can afford new pieces for our garden, which in turn takes us closer to our ultimate goal of winning the city gardening club’s contest for most beautiful garden. It all fits together and moves things ahead like finely machined gears.

And there are loads of little extra challenges along the way. An actor might send you a letter asking for whatever photos you can find in the house, which will send you to a room loaded with pictures. Or someone might express an interest in buttons, giving you the added goal of looking for brown plastic fasteners in each of the next several rooms in which you hold sales.

With all of the sales plus the added challenges, you’ll end up visiting each of the game’s 15 rooms maybe ten times over the course of the four or five hour story. That does make things start to feel a bit repetitive. Still, it’s difficult to imagine many players growing bored with what they see.

That’s because the artwork is beautiful. Each room is drawn in bold colors, and each of the objects for which we hunt – from the familiar, such as football helmets and lawnmowers, to the exotic, including hookahs and rapa whelk shells – are at once recognizable and interesting. What’s more, the environments and many of the items we seek are highly dynamic: car lights switch on, candles burn, and binoculars and towels dangle. It makes for exciting hunting.

The garden, too, is a small delight. Austin roams around caring for it, and we can send him on little tasks to water the plants, play with the dog, or sit on a bench. He’s also an everlasting fountain of text-based information, some of which is useful (he always lets us know what we need to do to keep the story moving forward), and some of which is just funny (as when he chides us for clicking on him and suggests we simply sit back and enjoy the garden).

And as a little bonus, your custom gardenscape can also function as a screensaver, with birds, butterflies, your butler, and your self-named puppy wandering about in the rain and sun.

Aside from the relatively small number of rooms to search, the only other criticism to be leveled at Gardenscapes game is a lack of originality in terms of searching aids. As in some other HOGs, players can earn hints by finding question marks, click on concealed cameras to briefly reveal the locations of items currently sought, and find thermometers that offer hot/cold cues as you mouse around the screen. But at least they’ve been expertly implemented, helping players who are stuck without simply giving away the location of the objects they need to find.

I’ve been working through many hidden object games lately so I have plenty of recent titles with which to compare this one, and Gardenscapes is easily one of my current favorites. I just wish it lasted a little longer.

Review by Chad Sapieha

Gamezebo, Inc.

Floyd teaches Lil’ Ross how to fight
50 Cent is ruthless..! Another diabolical tactic from the evil genius 50 Cent. Hip-hop needs him!

Lil’ Ross wearing a Maybach Music chain courtesy of E-class .. Daaaaamn Rick! They got too much money!

Tia’s son, DeAndre posing in front of Floyd’s Bentley

Daaaamn Rick! 50 belongs in a looney bin! Why would you f*ck with him and the champ?! idiot

One big happy family. Video coming soon!

DeAngelo, 50 Cent, Tia, DeAndre, lil’ Ross, and the champ!

The champ, lil’ Ross, 50 and Tia on the Maybach 62 .. Now that’s BOSS!

Turkey Brook Park in Budd Lake, NJ is the site of a brand new park which includes soccer, baseball fields, etc. As one would expect, this was formerly a farm which dates back to the early the early 1700s.  This building is only one of two which remain on the property.  How could you possibly tear this beauty down???

History: Seward Mansion resides at the opening of Turkey Brook Park. The building was once owned by William H. Seward; a former New York Governor and Secretary of State to Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Johnson. The mansion was built in 1858 by Beulah and Henry Seward. The mansion had 9 large rooms, a grand staircase at its center, chandeliers, ornate mantels and a wrap-around porch. Architecturally, it is an example of 18th century stone construction in a mid-Victorian style.

The building is currently undergoing renovation efforts by the Mount Olive Historical Society, sadly it seems like a mere skeleton of its former self.   Too bad I couldn’t get in!!  Note  fence

Although I was able to get some nice shots from the fence’s perimeter…

Very Rapunzel let down your hair…

The molding reminded me of a delicious chocolate bar…

Yummmm…

On Line Big Mansion
On Line Big Mansion

On Line Big Mansion Game
Big Mansion Game Description : Buy and sell houses to earn money to buy the mansion all within the time limit.
How to Play Big Mansion Game? Use mouse to interact.