I had a miscarriage 5 weeks ago..no D&C..i bled for four days then went to the doctors and everything checked out fine..had a beta done came back negative…well about 2 weeks ago i started to feel like af was coming..she never came…my breast started to get vainy and i had flu like symptoms…well i went and got a first response 3 pack and they all came out positive…i went to the doctors and the test came out negative..one with first morning urine and all…is that weird..they said wait two weeks then go back cause it may be to early which sounds true…has this ever happend to anyone…mind you im sorta freaking out cause i wasnt planning this(im still getting over the miscarriage i went through) should i test with anouther brand???
thanks in advance I had a beta hcg and they it was negative…about 4 weeks ago i also had a urine test and it was negative aswell
Maybe your doctors test weren’t as sensitive as the First Response.
Air Conditioning Tips & Tricks: Tips for Having an Air Conditioning System
In this page we will give everyone a few simple tips and steps that can end up saving you a lot of money when it comes to running your air conditioner. A little planning before installing your air conditioner will save you energy and money.
Try setting your thermostat between 72°F and 78°F. Each degree setting below 78°F will increase your energy consumption by approximately 8%. As you can see, that can add up to a lot of money over a year.
Inspect and clean both the indoor and outdoor AC/Heating coils. The indoor coil in your air conditioner acts as a magnet for dust because it is constantly wetted during the cooling season. Dirt build-up on the indoor coil is the single most common cause of poor efficiency. The outdoor coil must also be checked periodically for dirt build-up and cleaned if necessary.
Check the refrigerant charge. The circulating fluid in your air conditioner is a special refrigerant gas that is put in when the system is installed. If the system is overcharged or undercharged with refrigerant, it will not work properly. You may need a service contractor to check the fluid and adjust it appropriately.
Use bath and kitchen fans sparsely when you are running the air conditioning system.
Reduce the cooling load by using cost-effective conservation measures. For example, effectively shade east and west windows. When possible, delay heat-generating activities, such as dishwashing or baking, until the evening on hot days.
Try to not use a dehumidifier at the same time your air conditioner is operating. The dehumidifier will increase the cooling load and force the air conditioner to work harder, which in turn increases your utility bill.
Over most of the cooling season, keep the house closed tight during the day. Don’t let in unwanted heat and humidity. If practical, ventilate at night either naturally or with fans.
Room Air Conditioning Units
The unit should be level when installed, so that the inside drainage system and other mechanisms operate efficiently. If possible, install the unit in a shaded spot on your home’s north or east side. Direct sunshine on the unit’s outdoor heat exchanger decreases efficiency by as much as 10%. You can plant trees and shrubs to shade the air conditioner, but do not block the airflow.
Set the fan speed on high, except on very humid days. When humidity is high, set the fan speed on low for more comfort. The low speed on humid days will cool your home better and will remove more moisture from the air because of slower air movement through the cooling equipment. Consider using an interior fan in conjunction with your window air conditioner to spread the cooled air more effectively through your home without greatly increasing electricity use.
Set your air conditioner’s thermostat as high as comfortably possible in the summer. The less difference between the indoor and outdoor temperatures, the lower your overall cooling bill will be. And don’t set your thermostat at a colder setting than normal when you turn on your air conditioner. It will not cool your home any faster and could result in excessive cooling and, therefore, unnecessary expense.
Don’t place lamps or televisions near your air-conditioner’s thermostat. The thermostat senses heat from these appliances, which can cause the air conditioner to run longer than necessary.
Proper maintenance of your air conditioner will also save energy. Be sure to do the following:
1. At the start of each cooling season, inspect the seal between the air conditioner and the window frame to ensure it makes contact with the unit’s metal case. Moisture can damage this seal, allowing cool air to escape from your house.
2. Check your unit’s air filter once a month and clean or replace filters as necessary. Keeping the filter clean can lower your air conditioner’s energy consumption by 5% to 15%.
3. Occasionally pass a stiff wire through the unit’s drain channels. Clogged drain channels prevent a unit from reducing humidity, and the resulting excess moisture may discolor walls or carpet.
*In the winter, either cover your room air conditioner or remove and store it.
Please visit Central Air Conditioning Toronto at www.centralairtoronto.ca
About the Author
George Benson is a Internet Marketing and SEO expert with over 5 years experience
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Revealed: Alcohol Consumption Slows Your Weight Loss
Alcohol, when consumed into the human body, is converted to carbohydrates—and, just like everything else we eat and drink, should be consumed in moderation. Too much or too little of anything is by and large a bad idea. A regular 12 fluid ounce beer has about 13g of carbs in it, while a light beer of the same portion provides you with about 4.5g of carbs. Contrary to what many people think, alcohols such as gin, rum, vodka, and whisky have hardly any carbs at all.
Now, seeing as how carbohydrates are the body’s preferred source of fuel, this should make drinking alcohol good, right? Wrong. Just like refined sugar, alcohol provides us with simple carbs—ones that are easily and quickly passed through our system and generally contain more fat than complex carbs. Other carbs, such as complex carbs, provide us with more fibre, vitamins, and minerals. Neither types are bad for us—actually, both are necessary—we just need many more complex carbs in order to function properly. Simple carbohydrates are not just found in alcohol and sugar; they are present in many types of food. They are contained in milk, and the vitamins and minerals found in milk are nutritionally necessary for a healthy body. The simple carbs in milk are a good thing, where a simple carb like sucrose and alcohol isn’t quite as important. Drinking alcohol also generally tends to cause your blood sugar levels to be quite unstable, which can make you feel hungry and crave sweet-tasting food. This can lead to such problems as obesity.
There is some good news for you alcohol-loving, diet-conscious people out there. Lately the major brewers of beer have been producing low-carb beer. Molson, Labatt, Sleeman, and Big Rock, among others, have taken notice of the trendy Atkins diet and have made beer to suit it. Big Rock’s Jack Rabbit has one of the lower carbohydrate counts, with only two grams per 355-ml can. Companies claim to preserve the taste of their original brews, but be careful, it may or may not be too good to be true. Nicholas Pashley, author of Notes on my Beermat, declares a deficiency in taste and a watery consistency are often problems with low-carb beers. Even with the potential downfalls of this new beer, they’re still an innovative way to watch your weight without cutting out all of life’s little pleasures.
Yes, the low-carb revolution has begun. Evidence of such a notion is prevalent. America’s top brewers, Anheuser-Busch, Miller, and Coors, have changed their football game ads. No longer boasting bold flavours and gorgeous women, brew companies are raving about their low amount of carbs. It seems that they newest way to enthral young men is to tempt them with abs and buns of steel. Perhaps this is the way to tempt young people into becoming more knowledgeable on their own nutrition practices.
This new found knowledge and popularity of lowering carbohydrate levels in alcohol is making it easier for people everywhere to watch what they are consuming more closely. Awareness of complex and simple carbs is heightened, and that attitude is being reflected in the producers of alcohol. Consumers are realizing that they can’t just count calories and fat, but have to factor in other elements like carbohydrates. People are becoming more educated on what is entering their bodies, and hopefully our latest development of becoming overweight and having unhealthy habits will cease to exist, or at least fade a little. The road to complete healthiness is a long and winding one, but steps like watching carb intakes are helping to make progress.
my neighborhood has this anual yardsale and everyone comes out and sells a whole bunch of things. I need some money for my new flute so do you have any ideas on what to sell or what to do to get money? thx in advance
Sell anything you don’t want, need, use, or have 3 of. Anything that isn’t really something you can sell and make a ton of money on, and anything that isn’t priceless, like family jewelry, etc.
The champagne flûte (fr. Flûte à Champagne) is a stem glass with a tall, narrow bowl. The bowl of a flute may resemble a narrow wine glass as seen in the illustration; or a trumpet shape; or be very narrow and straight-sided.
As with other stemware, the stem allows the drinker to hold the glass without affecting the temperature of the drink. The bowl is designed to retain champagne’s signature…
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Once upon a time, during the tail end of the psychedelic sixties, a program appeared that captured the imagination of children as much as the tenor of the times. Not that H.R. Pufnstuf, which premiered on NBC in 1969, dealt with heavy topics like the Vietnam War. Instead, this colorful Sid and Marty Krofft creation mixed live action with puppetry and kept things groovy with song, dance, bad puns, …
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A Fool’s Knot is Philip Spires’s second African novel set in Kenya and is published by Libros International.
A Fool’s Knot is set in mid-1970s Kenya and deals with different events in the lives of the same set of vivid characters in Mission, Philip Spires’s first novel. The plot is loosely based on a crime that happened on the very weekend the author started working in Migwani’s secondary school in 1974.
A Fool’s Knot is a sensitive portrait of John Mwangangi’s attempt to reclaim his cultural identity and, at the same time, stimulate change. The contradictions he confronts in his campaign against the grinding poverty of his people lead almost inevitably to conflict. Here is the book’s first chapter.
CHAPTER ONE
August 1976
England is smaller now. The sky is smaller. Daylight is softer, paler than memories of the harsh brilliance of tropical sun. There are people everywhere: there is no space here. There are no mountains, no heavy clouds, flat-bottomed in the sky and stretching to the horizon as if floating on the surface of a lake covering the earth. There is no distance here. The horizon is near and the sun does not shine.
A tremble of regret, an emptiness born of shock, passed through Janet’s body. Her eyes stared blankly as mile after predictable mile passed by unnoticed. She was glad to be home again, but this happiness could not override the sadness she felt at leaving the place where she had lived so happily for two years. Though Migwani already felt a long way distant, it had perhaps felt more of a home than any other place that bore the name. Already it had become no more than a phase in her life, transformed by the hours of flight into a memory, outlived and outmoded. It was over and finished forever. How long will it be, she thought, as the drumming of the road filled her mother’s car, before I begin to live facing forwards instead of looking back to a destroyed past? How long before it is really over?
She looked down at the seat beside her on which rested the jumble of a parcel she had made up so carefully the previous morning. Protruding from beneath the string-tied newspaper wrapping, which had been torn during her long wait in queues after disembarking in London, was a strange array of barbed arrowheads, polished cow horns and the three unvarnished legs of a stool. Tied to one leg, and now swinging over the edge of the seat was a small gourd, a simple treasure, which meant more than all the other souvenirs and all the photographs with which she had returned. Of all the things she had brought home, this was the strongest reminder of everyday life in Migwani, an exact replica of those used in every household for carrying and storing water. She would polish it and use it as a vase for dried flowers. But protruding above and below the other trinkets and artefacts was the crudely fashioned but beautiful walking stick that had been Munyolo’s personal present for her. Surely this was something to treasure.
Her eyes were heavy with sleep. For two days life had been hectic. It seemed that time had passed too quickly to be noticed, like an immense dream half-remembered between two clear memories. One was the joy she felt when she knew that John had accepted her invitation to come to the farewell party in the school. The other, from only an hour before, was the tearfully overjoyed embrace of her mother at the airport. She looked older, Janet thought. David Smythe, the neighbour and childhood friend, who had offered to drive her mother’s car to the airport, had also changed, not that she had seen much of him in recent years. He remained the slightly overweight, goofy lad, who still lived with his parents over the road. But her mother’s letters had referred at length to the help he had offered and the jobs he did for her. At least he was honest. He was both fatter and frailer than before. Both seemed to speak more slowly than she remembered. Was it really them? Had she really travelled those thousands of miles to return home with the feeling that she had never been away? She was not convinced - of anything, but there were truths that could not be ignored, truths locked into the trivialities of life, the very details of which, when remembered, make even dreams feel real. She had just come from the airport where her mother had greeted her arrival with such long warm embraces. She had felt great surprise when the car park attendant spoke to her in Swahili. Janet had insisted on paying the fee with the English coins she had faithfully kept for two years in a small box on her bedside table. Mistakenly she had included a Kenya shilling with them and the attendant, an Asian, handed it back saying, “Habari ya Kenya?” with a broad smile on his face. “Fine,” Janet had replied taking the coin. The event itself had been bland enough, but the real awakening for Janet was how strange the Swahili sounded. It was ‘foreign’, no longer what she expected to hear. And how difficult it had been for her to answer in kind. She had sought the word but not found it; only ‘fine’ would come. Already a black face seemed a point of interest, an unexpected sight to be noticed and noted as different. Her suburban roots were already showing through.
There were things she would have to re-learn. She was sure of that. How long would it take? she wondered, thinking back to the hostess on the aircraft. A girl her own age, but Scottish and blonde, had set about her duties immediately the plane took off from Nairobi with a forthright confidence and clarity of purpose unknown to Migwani’s lazy, timeless ways. Janet had been lucky to get a seat by a hatchway, where there was no seat in front and therefore no problem in setting down her large bulky parcel. Carrying an armful of trays to clip onto the aircraft seats, the hostess had approached Janet’s aisle seat. She spoke with predictable politeness which, after another language’s commands, seemed overstated. “Would you like a tray, Madam?” the hostess had said. Janet, lost in her thoughts for a moment, had naively answered, “No, thank you,” causing the girl’s consciously pleasant expression to harden slightly through the words, “But you’re going to have something to eat.” With the tray safely clipped on Janet’s seat the hostess moved on to the man sitting next to her. Of course, Janet thought, it was not meant to be a question. Had the girl said simply, “Take your tray,” and moved on, Janet would have understood, but another person, more used to ‘normal’ behaviour might have been offended.
But still the regret produced its confusion. As the car travelled south, town and country passed by outside, but inside a single picture lodged behind Janet’s eyes and, try as she might, she could think of nothing else. In that picture, a collage of many scenes, two leafless trees stood out against a cloudless blue sky. Beneath one of the trees sat a group of women dressed in brightly coloured clothes, many of them wearing cardigans, though the sun was high and the day was hot. Spread out before them, on sacks laid down to cover the hard red earth, were neat piles of fruit, mangoes, green oranges and lemons, guavas and unripe tomatoes. Under the other tree sat a man, a shoemaker, surrounded by the sandals he had made that day from the tread and rubber of old car tyres. Nearby, undisturbed in his usual place, the town’s madman, Munyasya, lay asleep, his spidery legs almost merging with the tree roots. The sun was hot, but in an instant the picture was sour, grey and cold. The shoemaker’s tools lay on the ground beside him and his face was buried deep in his hands. The women, usually noisy, chattering or singing, were quiet and some were weeping.
How long, thought Janet, before I forget?
***
Father Michael pressed his foot hard on the accelerator. The sun was already low in the sky. He had an appointment with the Chief in Migwani that evening and there was still over sixty miles to travel. As usual, he had overslept. He always overslept in Nairobi. The beds in the Mission Centre were just too comfortable to resist. After weeks of discomfort caused by the springless wonder he called his ‘unmade pit’ in Migwani, the soft mattress and clean sheets at the Centre were irresistible. Add to that the likelihood that, for him, waking up usually meant waking up with a hangover, and the picture grows clearer. Nairobi was a place he both loved and hated. The hot and cold running water, the comfort of the Centre, the cinemas, the visits to friends and the occasional booze-up he enjoyed. On the other hand there were errands to be run, things to be bought, messages to be given and always too little time in which to do everything. He would never finish all of his jobs around town, but equally would never sacrifice a party or a long sleep to make more time. By the end of the second day he was always glad to be leaving it all behind. The worst part of every trip to the city, though, was this, the journey home. The road was a hundred dusty miles. When driving into town, one could look forward to the last few miles on smooth tarmac, with its promise of a hot shower in the Centre at the end of it all. But when going home there was only the prospect of a bucket of cold water and the creaking frame of the unmade pit.
Michael had something of a reputation. He was aware of it and often played to his gallery, sometimes consciously. His fellow priests and parishioners alike saw him as something of an eccentric. He was perhaps just too vivid a character, too willing to accept a life of contradictions. Dedicated he certainly was, but ephemeral too. Wherever he worked, his positive influence could be traced right through the community he served. In Migwani, where he had been parish priest for more than five years, he had helped to establish a secondary school, three primary schools, adult literacy schemes and last, but certainly not least, a town football team called the Black Stars, in whose ranks Michael’s white face invariably figured. Above all else he was a man of the people, a man positively loved by many. Not only was he a priest and a fluent speaker of Kikamba, the local language, but also a man who could talk about and understand the problems that beset the lives of ordinary people. Some individuals, however, regarded him with distaste. They would openly criticise him for drinking in bars, going to dances in the Unity Club and, above all, for doing ‘the bump’ with bar maids at those same dances. He drank too much, smoked too much, swore too much and probably worked too much. But his achievements were impossible to ignore and everyone agreed with that.
He was equally proud of his fame and his infamy. A tale he loved to tell which summed up his attitude was the one that he had retold to Janet the previous night, just before taking her to the airport. One day, he told her, he was driving to Kitui to play football. Since, as usual, he was late, he was in a hurry and driving too fast to remember that he was approaching a stony part of the road. The car hit the stones at speed and one of the tyres simply disintegrated, with the result that the car slid to a halt amid clouds of dust and grit. The jack, of course, was at home in the mission. He couldn’t recall why he had taken it out of the car. Some ten minutes later, while he was fruitlessly trying to lift one side of the car in order to push a large stone under the jack point with his foot, a group of men came walking along the road and he beckoned to them for help. The men, however, simply stood and stared in disbelief at this mzungu, this European, clad in football kit and bush hat, who was trying to lift a car. Frustrated, Michael had then shouted in his broad Limerick tones, “You silly buggers, will you come and help me change this fucking wheel?” “Ah, Father Michael,” replied one of the men. “We didn’t realise it was you.”
The previous evening that particular story had helped to clear the air, but only a little. He had planned to take Janet into Nairobi for one last night on the town before she flew back to England. In Nairobi they could do as they wished without worrying whether the Bishop of Kitui or people might begin to gossip. Michael had it all worked out. They would arrive in the afternoon, leaving time for a wash and a rest before a Chinese meal on Government Road, followed by an hour or so at the Swiss Grill, where they would have a dance or two. Janet’s flight was not due to leave until half past midnight, so they would easily manage both venues before her check-in time.
What was to have been a great night out in fact deteriorated into a mere sad farewell over a beer in the airport lounge, where the fluorescent lights, if not flickering on faulty starters, made everyone look gaunt and ill. The best-laid plans can go astray, so it would probably be no surprise that Father Michael’s tenuous idea turned out to be a non-starter. But on this occasion the failure was not his. He would still have liked his night out, but the events of that morning had overtaken them both. Janet, upset and close to tears throughout, had laughed a little at his story, but it was no more than a single moment to be weighed against the rest of the day, when sadness, tragedy and disillusion pervaded all.
The car rattled and bumped along the dirt road as Migwani’s spectacular mountain backbone appeared through the gathering twilight. The long journey was almost over. A hundred miles was perhaps no distance at all, but on these roads you allowed four hours and the punctures often made it longer. He had been lucky today, unlike one occasion, when he had fixed no less than thirteen punctures of his tubed tyres and taken more than eight hours to do the trip. But still his repertoire of songs that he invariably sang as he drove was almost exhausted. Some minutes later, with darkness beginning to fall and headlights carving into the gloom, the car sped over the last ridge and the single light of Migwani after dark came into view. Michael sang a celebratory chorus of ‘We’re here because we’re here’, but at the end of this particular trip the words were tinged not just with resignation, but also with defiance and unease. Like a moth to a flame, the car left the road and careered down the small track that led towards the light of the mission house, his home. Mutua, the cook, who had been waiting for Father Michael’s return, peered out of the kitchen window and waved as the car drew up by the back door.
When Michael entered the house, he was greeted not only by Mutua, but by two others, both not quite strangers. As Mutua pumped the pressure lamp that provided the only light in the room, he spoke to Michael in Kikamba. “These men have been waiting for you,” he said.
Michael had expected to see the Chief of Migwani Location and it was he who first shook Michael’s hand. Then, in English, he said, “May I introduce you to Bwana Joseph Kamau, who is the Chief Police Officer in Kitui town.”
The second man then came forward and offered a handshake. “I am pleased to meet you, Father Michael. Thank you for volunteering to come back from Nairobi this evening. It is best that we discuss these pressing matters today.”
Father Michael sat down opposite the two men. In the years since his ordination as a missionary priest, he had experienced famine, disease and war. He had stalked death and it had lived alongside him. But throughout those years, he could recall no tragedy as sad as this.
About the Author
Philip Spires
Author of Mission, an African novel set in Kenya
http://www.philipspires.co.uk
Michael, a missionary priest, has just killed Munyasya. It was an accident, but Mulonzya, a politician, exploits the tragedy for his own ends. Boniface, a church worker, has just lost his child. He did not make it to the hospital in time, possibly because Michael went to the Mission to retrieve a letter from Janet, a teacher, and the priest’s neighbour. It is Munyasya who has the last laugh, however.
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Who else thinks the USA National Soccer team should be disqualified from the World Cup Qualifiers for H1N1?
Since it is against the law not to report that you have symptoms of the SWINE FLU virus H1N1, shouldnt the US national Soccer team be disqualified from having a chance at the World Cup?
Mexican Officials are reviewing his card that he was supposed to fill out when entering Mexico City and it looks like he lied on that too. So not only did he break Mexican Laws, but also broke FIFA rules. I THINK THE US TEAM SHOULD BE DISQUALIFIED its not like theyre going to make it anyways,
1. Costa Rica
2. Mexico
3. Honduras
4. USA will have to most likely play ECUADOR for the final spot to the world cup.
I say lets just let ECUADOR in and keep the SWINE FLU out of the world cup 2010!!!
Haha, i find if funny that He got the swine flu. I think its fake, another excuse that the gringos are making up so they can say mexico didnt beat them fair and square.
I had a beta hcg and they it was negative…about 4 weeks ago i also had a urine test and it was negative aswell
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