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"I believe it's going to be a total loss," said Chuck Kamine, battalion chief with Volusia County Fire and Rescue.
According to Kamine, the fire at 175 S. Winslow Ave. near DeLand was reported at 11:19 a.m.
When firefighters arrived on scene they discovered it had self-vented, meaning flames had cut through the roof, Kamine said.
No injuries were reported and two dogs were rescued from the home, the battalion chief said.
The resident, Maria de Jesus Caudillo, 68, who was alone at home at the time, said she was cooking when the fire started.
"I quickly stepped out of the house," a shaken Caudillo said in Spanish. "I don't even know what the inside of my house looks like right now."
For some of the region's best vino, previous travelers recommend stopping by Old Oval Estate, d'Arenberg Wines and Primo Estate. Oenophiles rave about the cheese platters and wines available at Old Oval Estate, while Primo Estate and d'Arenberg Wines are great for tours and tastings. "The Blending Bench" class at d'Arenberg Wines, an interactive experience that involves blending and bottling a sample of shiraz, is especially popular with former visitors. It costs 70 Australian dollars ($53) per person.
No public transportation is available to and from McLaren Vale, but the region is a convenient stopping point for travelers driving from Adelaide to Kangaroo Island. Another option: take a full-day wine tour with Wine Diva Tours. Rates start at AU$165 ($125) per person and include lunch, private wine tastings and round-trip transfers to and from Adelaide. Travelers can also visit wineries without a tour group, but charges generally apply for each tour and tasting. Expect to pay about AU$15 to AU$55 (or $11 to $42) for each standard tour. Most wineries are open daily from 10 or 11 a.m. to 4 or 5 p.m. However, some smaller locales are only open on weekends. For a complete list of winery hours, plus information about area beaches, hotels, restaurants, markets and more, check out McLaren Vale's website.
The Zambia Road Safety Trust (ZRST) has urged government through the Lusaka City Council to invest in facilities for pedestrians and cyclists during the implementation of the Lusaka City Roads Decongestion Project.
ZRST Chairman, Daniel Mumba said pedestrians and cyclists are vulnerable road users and accidents involving them usually result in death or serious injuries.
Mr. Mumba explained that pedestrians and cyclists account for more than 60 per cent of all road deaths per annum in Zambia for many years now stating that in 2016 at least 950 pedestrians were recorded killed by the police.
He stated that the key factor is inadequate road environment which in many cases do not cater for the needs of non-motorized road users as evidenced by the lack of facilities for pedestrians and cyclists to cross.
“The Lusaka City Roads Decongestion Project comes with lots of resources, it should be designed by Zambians that recognize that 90% of Lusaka residents walk. It should also give preference to pedestrians not just vehicles,” he said.
Mr. Mumba observed that if well implemented the road project will be an opportunity that sets the direction to bring together all modes of transport in the city into a world class integrated network that puts pedestrian first.
He further said ZRST would like to see a wide range of pedestrian facilities that support road safety for pedestrians and improve connectivity which should include signalized pedestrian facilities providing safer opportunities to cross the road.
This was contained in a statement made available to ZANIS this morning.
Zambia Road Safety Trust donates breathalyzers to Zambia Police Service.
It’s not only Lusaka that needs those facilities. Every Zambian big city needs that. The Council also has to look into township bus stations. What we have now especially in Ndola are not laybys at bus Stations but potholes. With these low roof minibuses you always hit your head against the bus is parking or leaving the Station.
There should also be a law for shop owners to pave their shop corridors and paint their Shops. Some shops where painted before Independence when some of us where not even born.
Oh no disaster already. These guys just show us how irrelevant they have been. All these years only to talk about such important issues this year and yet even in colonial era we had cycle tracks and pedestrian roads. Really this year!!!!
Oh maybe they have just had a new boss who seem to remember road users. All along road users have been only motorists.
Ok lets act then its time to act if your are not just sugar coating.
How can I join ZRST ?
This good massage from ZRST and I hope the supervising Authority will consider this seriously. At the moment all Road Projects are akin to only improve facilities for cars and yet ignore the majority of population that cant afford a car and only rely on walking and cycling.
Hmmm ... Modified off-beat swag? Check. Originality? Check. Socks? Nope. Warm, winter-proofed ankles? Feel free to insert some more silence here. Meet Thom Browne, the scene's favorite new fashionisto who's not afraid to switch it up. Born in 1965, Browne launched his line of perfectly tailored and distinctively different men's suits in 2001.
Click Here To Check Out Thom Browne's Spring Summer 2009 Collection.
Like Barcelona has Bread and Butter, Florence has Pitti Uomo ( pronounced oomo). Uomo is a four-day-long fair featuring exhibits, special projects, and runway shows. Created by countless influential designers and design teams; the works displayed at this annual showing will later be turned into a look book of sorts.
Journalists who try to cover the life and teachings of Deepak Chopra always face the same question: How much ink should they dedicate to the debates about whether his fusion of Hinduism and science are secular or sacred? In other words, is this man a religious leader who is teaching specific doctrines or not?
So that is one side of the debate. There are also people who believe, in the end, that the heart of Chopra's work is best understood in terms of, well, marketing and the sound of ringing cash registers.
Is it possible to write about Chopra and issues related to his phenomenal popularity without even mentioning its religious content?
Deepak Chopra says he never feels stress.
He wakes up at 4 a.m. daily and meditates for two hours. Then, he writes for an hour before going to the gym. The famed 66-year-old holistic health guru takes no medicine. He's never had surgery. And he's never been hospitalized.
"This is embarrassing," he says, "but I do not get stress."
Even then, he has made millions off the unrelenting stresses from which the rest of us suffer -- linking his name to everything from stress-busting techno gadgets to spiritual retreats. Few things, it seems, are more stressful, or expensive, than trying to shed stress.
This raises the obvious question: Does Chopra "meditate" for two hours in the morning or does he "pray" for two hours and, in his tradition, is it possible to draw an journalistically meaningful line between these two terms? More on that later.
Little wonder in a nation that could be the world's poster child for stress. Last year, some seven in 10 Americans said they regularly suffered physical symptoms due to stress, and 67% said they regularly experienced psychological symptoms because of it, reports the American Psychological Association. In a still-recovering economy, it's no surprise that the top three causes of stress last year were related to money, work and the economy, reports the APA.
This side of the story is solid and fascinating.
However, I've been around the religion-news beat to know that serious researchers have studied stress and related health issues through a religious lens as well as a market-driven one. Does that reality need to be mentioned in this story? In other words, do prayer and scripture readings have the same impact as the secular or vaguely spiritual alternatives?
This is a multiple billion dollar question. The story never asks it or gives any sign that the question exists.
Stress is, you see, a strictly materialistic concern -- even when Chopra is talking it on with meditation-related products and programs.
Read the story for yourself.
Then click right here and explore.
Do you see the ghost now?
Older PostDo we cover hypocrisy consistently?
Hampton, New Hampshire, in Rockingham county, is 16 miles NE of Haverhill, Massachusetts and 41 miles N of Boston, Massachusetts.
Hampton was previously known as Winnacunnet. Its original name was derived from an Algonquian Abenaki term meaning "pleasant pines." Reverend Stephen Bachiler and a group of parishioners first settled the area in 1638. Hampton was incorporated as a town in 1639. It was renamed after Hampton, England. The first railroad entered the area in the 1850s and enabled Hampton to become a popular oceanfront resort.
Hampton offers a wide variety of recreational opportunities. The Tuck Museum provides insight into the history of the area. Hampton Beach State Park is a popular summer tourist destination. The Odiorne State Park and the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge are also popular.
The University of New Hampshire, Merrimack College and Northern Essex Community College offer courses in higher studies.
Are you an official in the Hampton government or quasi-government agency such as the chamber of commerce, visitors bureau or economic development council? If so, visit our information page for government officials to see how CityTownInfo can support you.
The Eastman Jazz Lab Band is a full 17-piece jazz ensemble, consisting of both undergraduate and grad. students. The ensemble performs a full range of big band repertoire including Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Woody Herman, Thad Jones-Mel Lewis, Bill Holman, and more. The band also performs arrangements by known Eastman Jazz alumni and current Eastman Jazz student arrangers. The Band is on a new track bringing in an exciting guest soloist for it’s spring concert each year. The Ensemble is directed by Associate Professor Rich Thompson and assisted by a graduate JCM student. The Ensemble is open to Eastman and River Campus students by audition only.
The House GOP leadership released their long-awaited tax reform bill on Thursday.
The Joint Committee on Taxation said the bill would increase the federal deficit by $1.487 trillion over the next 10 years.
That means the bill qualifies under Senate rules for budget reconciliation, which allows the GOP to pass it with a simple majority vote.
But the bill could still run afoul of Senate rules.
Republicans passed a significant test on their newly unveiled tax reform legislation Thursday — by the skin of their teeth.
According to a new report from the Joint Committee on Taxation, the House GOP tax reform bill— the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act (TCJA) — would increase the federal deficit by $1.487 trillion over the 10 years after it is implemented.
This means that the bill will fit just barely into the $1.5 trillion budget window created by the recently passed budget resolution.
Congressional Republicans are attempting to pass their tax legislation using the budget reconciliation process. That method allows Republicans to move the bill through the Senate with only a majority vote — avoiding a potential Democratic filibuster. The Republican budget's reconciliation rules said that any bill passed could only add $1.5 trillion in federal debt over 10 years, meaning the legislation as written fits within the window.
But a looming problem, however, could be the long-term deficit effects after 10 years.
Per Senate rules, no provision of a bill passed under reconciliation can add to the deficit outside of the budget's 10-year window. The TCJA's deficit additions would accelerate in later years, with around $166.8 billion projected to be added in the 10th year.
Since the major tax cuts in the bill are proposed to be permanent, the provisions would likely continue to add to the deficit outside of the 10-year window. If that were the case, the bill would need to be rewritten to pass the Senate.
COCONUT GROVE, FLA. (WSVN) - - A bicyclist who was struck by a car during a ride in Coconut Grove is warning motorists about sharing the road.
Reid Welch collided with a car while riding his electric bicycle in Coconut Grove Tuesday afternoon, and a camera on the bike managed to catch the crash.
He was riding in the dedicated bike lane down Southwest 27th Avenue near U.S. 1, at more than 20 miles an hour. That’s when a dark-colored car turned right and slammed into Welch.
The video shows how forceful the impact was. Welch can be seen knocking the mirror right off of the car.
A person who appears to be the driver quickly rushes out of his vehicle.
Welch said he is lucky to be alive. He did not break any bones but has a few bruises.
He told 7News that he wants the video taken from that collision to serve as a reminder to both drivers and bicyclists.
Welch said he wants to prevent something like this from happening again.
Welch said he’s not even mad at the driver who stopped and acted fast to get him some help.
It remains unclear if any charges were filed.
Master bedroom is quite spacious with tray ceiling. The master bath is huge with his & her vanities with a deep spa tub and stand-alone shower. Enjoy the peace and quiet of the outdoors in the screened in porch.
This unit has a transferrable golf membership for a low entrance fee.
and hot tub, with views of the boats on the waterway, an upscale, hotel style lobby and a sitting room off the hallway on each floor.
The last time I went to the 7-Eleven store near my apartment in Brooklyn, the cashier asked if I wanted to sign up for a rewards card. Needless to say, I did. He searched around for a few minutes without finding one, and eventually I said, "Don't worry about it. I'm here, like, every day."
He looked up from the drawer he was poking around in and said, "I know."
I have lived in New York for more than a decade and don’t generally feel much nostalgia for my childhood in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. The one exception has always been 7-Eleven. When branches of the chain started popping up in the city several years ago, I was thrilled. The first one I went to was near my office in Union Square, to attend the grand opening "party" on my lunch break. If you have ever wondered what a 7-Eleven party involves, the answer is lots of balloons, a van parked in front of the store blaring dance music, and free turkey sandwich samples.
Going to 7-Eleven was comforting, even though I rarely bought more than a Diet Coke. Sure, these particular stores were a little grimier than the ones I went to as a child, and the one near my office smelled overwhelmingly of pizza grease and freezer burn. But walking under the fluorescent lights, through aisles stocked with gummy slugs and waffle-flavored potato chips, was oddly soothing.
Knowing the food was there gave me some illusion of control over a life that was starting to feel terrifyingly unpredictable.
I've long had a habit of buying food as a way to deal with stress. When my mother and grandmother both died four years ago, I spent hundreds of dollars I didn't have at Union Market, stocking my kitchen with pickled figs and cave-aged gouda that cost $25 a pound. I didn't have the appetite to eat most of it, but knowing the food was there gave me some illusion of control over a life that was starting to feel terrifyingly unpredictable. I might have been burdened with the realization that I could drop dead at any time, but at least I knew it wouldn't be the result of starving to death in my apartment.
I was already going to 7-Eleven with enough frequency that my dad gave me a gift card for it as a Christmas present two years ago. Then, three weeks later, he died of a heart attack.
My dad had been my best friend. He was the person I called when anything happened, good or bad, and his reaction, his sympathy or his pride, were what gave those events meaning. When he died, I wanted to die. Not in a way that I would have ever acted on, but in a way that made me want to dissolve into the atmosphere like a spray of dandelion fluff. I wanted to float away, separate, become nothing.
My father's death also ushered in a new kind of food-related neurosis. I didn't want to go to the grocery store, and I certainly didn't want to cook. I didn't want to consume anything that would require my body to expend more than the absolute minimum amount of energy breaking it down.
Every day was a struggle. I started taking pills to help me sleep. I had no appetite and ate whatever people gave me: a tin of mini brownies sent by my aunt, a giant roast chicken delivered by friends. After those things ran out, I didn’t know what to do. Enter 7-Eleven.
My diet has never been great. I cooked occasionally, mostly simple things like soups and chilis. After college, I briefly experimented with being a vegan. But I was never great at self-deprivation, and attempts at healthy eating were pretty half-hearted. Still, there were certain foods I generally considered off-limits: no full-calorie soda, no bags of gummy candy that I would inevitably finish in five minutes, no Bagel Bites and pizza rolls, and absolutely nothing corn-based, crunchy, and covered in cheese dust.
In many ways, what I was eating was the opposite of comfort food.
This all went out the window after my dad died. For the first time in 15 years, I bought chocolate frosted doughnuts (2 for $1) and bags of Cheetos. I bought cappuccinos from a machine and garnished them with the dehydrated mini marshmallows that you could shake out of a plastic jar, like a spice. I made sundaes with Häagen-Daz vanilla ice cream, Reddi-Whip, and Hershey’s syrup. For lunch I ate white cheddar Cheez-Its and for dinner I ate Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese, which I baked in the oven for too long until the perfect crust developed along the edges of the black plastic tray.
In many ways, what I was eating was the opposite of comfort food. Most of it was created in a lab, produced in a factory, and composed of chemicals; mass-marketed and impersonal. But the same qualities that made it seem bland and generic to some people were what made it so reassuring to me.
Now that both of my parents were gone, so was any concept I might have had of "home cooking." I was an only child with no home to return to. And even if I tried to re-create recipes that my parents made, they would never taste exactly the same. I discovered that one of the only ways I had left of revisiting my past that wasn’t entirely, unbearably, painful was through the processed food that hadn’t changed since I was a kid.
Growing up, I ate a lot of junk. My parents split when I was a baby, and because of my mother’s struggles with mental illness and alcoholism, I spent most of my time with my father. He was a salesman for companies that manufactured restaurant equipment, and spent his days driving around the tri-state area selling pizza ovens and plastic patio furniture to local businesses. He was a wonderful cook when he had the energy, mostly making “man food” — anything that he could throw on our charcoal grill. More often, though, my father would be too exhausted from driving around all day to make anything that took more than a few minutes to assemble.
I had a palate as refined as any child’s, and was just as happy on those nights as I was when he made something more elaborate. Once a week we would have Stouffer's macaroni and cheese with a side of Stouffer's “escalloped apples” (which, if you've never had them, are essentially a plastic tray of pie filling). To mix things up, he would make Kraft macaroni and cheese and garnish it with slices of deli ham or Lit’l Smokies cocktail wieners. I was a big fan of the entire "Helper" line, including the much-maligned Tuna Helper. The fridge was always stocked with soda, the freezer was full of ice cream and frozen pizza, and the kitchen counter was covered with discount holiday candy or whatever pastries he’d picked up at the Entenmann’s factory outlet that week.
When my dad didn't feel like making anything at all, which happened a few times a week, we would bring home fast food from one of the many restaurants near our house. Over the years I became something of a connoisseur. Wendy's had great chocolate chip cookies and baked potatoes. For a while I got the hot ham and cheese at Arby's, until I wised up and learned to skip the meat entirely in favor of a large order of curly fries and a Jamocha milkshake. All of the food at Popeye's was amazing, but my favorite thing was the fried crawfish basket, which was only available a few times a year. For dessert there we would get a large banana pudding, which few people knew was on the menu and boasted a perfect Nilla wafer-to-pudding ratio. Red Lobster had the best Shirley Temples. Checkers had the best banana milkshakes.
7-Eleven was where we got banana Slurpees in the summer, and where he bought me last-minute stocking stuffers at Christmas.
Then there was 7-Eleven. That was where we stopped every Christmas morning, before driving to visit my grandparents in Philadelphia. It was where my dad went to get his coffee and newspaper on weekends. It was where he custom-mixed my favorite machine cappuccino (half French vanilla, half hot chocolate, snatching the cup out from under the stream of liquid right before it became nothing but hot water and diluted the whole thing) and got me a pack of Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpets to go with it. 7-Eleven was where we got banana Slurpees in the summer, and where he bought me last-minute stocking stuffers at Christmas.
Junk food was something we bonded over, and my father’s attitude toward feeding me reflected his parenting philosophy as a whole. As an essentially single parent working a full-time job, he didn’t have the energy to stress out about what I was eating, or most of the choices I made. He just wanted me to be happy, and trusted me to make my own decisions.
This did mean occasionally going a couple of days without eating anything green, or showing up to school in a princess costume he’d bought me for Halloween. But it also meant that when I told my father I wanted to move to New York at 17 and go to NYU, he helped me find a way to make it happen. When I graduated and used my expensive degree to pursue a low-paying career in publishing, he was supportive. A few years later, when I started publishing poems and essays in journals that had few readers and no money to pay me with, he couldn’t have been prouder. I never went through a rebellious phase when I was a teenager, because there was never anything to rebel against. We were a team.
So, in the months that followed my father’s death, I went to therapy, took trips to visit friends, and lived almost exclusively on corn syrup and salt. If eating a bunch of crap was going to make it a fraction of a percent easier to get through the day, that’s what I was going to do. It didn’t matter that this food was technically bad for me; it made me feel good in a way that went beyond a sugar-induced serotonin rush. It brought me back to a time in my life when I felt loved, safe, and taken care of.
It’s been almost two years since my father died. My appetite eventually came back, along with the 10 pounds I lost. My diet is more balanced now, probably because my body recognized on some molecular level that I would have died from malnutrition otherwise.
I still eat junk food whenever I’m craving it, which is often, but no longer all the time. There's a perpetually full candy bowl on my coffee table that currently contains gummy worms, Reese's cups, and some Cadbury Scream eggs I got for 70% off after Halloween. There are four flavors of ice cream in my freezer and Jiffy Pop and Cheetos in the cupboard.
Sometimes I end up eating this stuff, and sometimes it goes stale and gets replaced. But just having this food around reminds me of my dad and the house I grew up in. It does more than fill me up with empty calories. In its own way, it nourishes me.

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