Sabtu, 20 Februari 2016

Free Download You Throw Like a Girl (mix), by Rachele Alpine

Free Download You Throw Like a Girl (mix), by Rachele Alpine

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You Throw Like a Girl (mix), by Rachele Alpine

You Throw Like a Girl (mix), by Rachele Alpine


You Throw Like a Girl (mix), by Rachele Alpine


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You Throw Like a Girl (mix), by Rachele Alpine

About the Author

One of Rachele Alpine’s first jobs was at a library, but it didn’t last long, because all she did was hide in the third-floor stacks and read. Now she’s a little more careful about when and where she indulges her reading habit. Rachele is a high school English teacher by day, a wife and mother by night, and a writer during any time she can find in between. She lives in Cleveland, Ohio where she writes middle grade and young adult novels. Visit her at RacheleAlpine.com.

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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

You Throw Like a Girl IT WAS THE FIRST DAY of summer vacation. Mom called it the Summer of Girls. My nine-month-old sister, Ava, called it, “Wah, Wah, WAAAAAH!” And I called it the Summer without Dad. But the truth was, no matter what you called it, this summer was going to stink. How could it not, when I was trapped in a car, eight hours into a journey that was taking me far away from my friends, and a week ago we said good-bye to Dad as he started a year deployment overseas in a place thousands of miles away? Save ME PLZ!!!!! I texted to my best friend, Maddie. Come back PLZ!!!!! she texted back, and I wished I could. We crossed the Indiana border and passed a giant sign that proclaimed Ohio THE HEART OF IT ALL. Mom beeped the horn three times. I sunk down in my seat to avoid the confused looks of the people in the cars next to us. “Please, stop that,” I told her, but my protests didn’t matter. Mom beeped every time we entered a new state. “How else am I going to announce to everyone that we’ve arrived?” she asked. Ava thought it was hilarious, cooing each time Mom laid on the horn. I, on the other hand, wanted to disappear, from embarrassment. Especially when we’d crossed from Illinois into Indiana and Mom’s horn had startled the guy to the right of us. He’d shaken his fist and mouthed some words Ava was definitely not old enough to learn. “Are we there yet?” I asked for what was probably the fiftieth time that day. “Not much longer,” Mom said, which was the reply she gave me every time I checked. I had a feeling that if I had asked her the same question shortly after we’d pulled out of the driveway, she would’ve still said that it wouldn’t take much longer. I opened my mouth and let out a huge yawn. “This drive stinks,” I announced, but no one bothered to answer, so I rested my head against the window and watched the world fly by. We usually took a plane to Grandma’s house, but this year we took the minivan. Mom thought driving would be an adventure that would help us bond. “Picture it,” she’d said when she’d told me the news. I’d been lying on a folding chair in the backyard, soaking in the first day of warm weather and dreaming about the last day of sixth grade. “It’ll be the three of us girls and the open road. We’ll have so much fun!” I’d told Mom I’d give it a chance, but I wasn’t convinced this would be as “fun” as she believed it would be. So far my summer had consisted of nothing but endless fields, with the occasional farmhouse and cows. I was so bored that at one point I tried to count the yellow lines on the road, which didn’t work, because Mom always went over the speed limit and it was all a blur. We drove on, and another half hour ticked by, and then fifteen more minutes. I watched the world slip past outside the car window as we moved further and further away from our house and closer and closer to Grandma’s. Mom pulled off the highway, and we began to take side roads. I was one more winding road away from getting carsick when Mom pointed out the window. “Gabby, look, we’re getting close. There’s LaMarca’s Farm.” One of my favorite sites to spot on the way to Grandma’s house came into view. It was a two-story-tall corn statue that stood at the entrance of the biggest farm in the area. I’d never been so happy to see a giant ear of corn. It meant we’d made it. Buildings and streets began to look familiar, and I felt a tiny flutter of excitement. We’d visited enough times in the summer that it kind of felt like my home away from home. “Coneheads has orange swirl ice cream today!” Mom announced as we passed a small building painted with rainbow colors whose sign had a face with a cone on the top of its head like a hat. It was one of our favorite places to go when we visited Grandma, and who could blame us? Their chocolate chunk mint ice cream was the best I’d ever had. We drove through the tiny downtown with a bunch of stores and restaurants, and passed under a giant banner stretched across the street that advertised the Corn Festival. It had a countdown box announcing that there were sixty-one days until the annual event. Mom and Dad always made sure to time our yearly visit so we could go. It was a weeklong celebration with games, carnival food, rides, concerts, a beauty pageant, and most important, the championship game for the summer league softball and baseball teams. It was such a fun week. Everyone was in a great mood as they celebrated their biggest crop . . . corn! Mom said this year would be even more of a big deal because it was the fiftieth anniversary of the festival, so the town planned to waste no expense to make it as grand as possible. We left the main stretch of town and passed the recreation center, which was full of kids at the pool. But I didn’t care about the pool; it was the baseball field I was interested in. I watched a group of boys around my age playing a game, and I imagined myself on the pitcher’s mound. Mom had promised me I could join the softball team here, and I couldn’t wait to get out on the field and throw the ball around. But my good feelings evaporated quickly as I thought about how Dad wouldn’t be able to watch me play this summer. The car turned down Grandma’s street, and the empty feeling deep in my stomach became worse. Usually when we turned onto her street with the rental car my parents would get at the airport, Dad would drive super-slowly on purpose, which made me crazy, because all I wanted to do was race out of the car and jump into her pool. It was the best part of her house. I’d begged Mom and Dad for years to get a pool like Grandma has, but there was no budging them, so I made sure to get lots of swimming time in when we visited. Today was different, though. Mom didn’t drive slowly. She didn’t remember the joke Dad would play, and for the millionth time that day, I wished he was here. I couldn’t help thinking about him. How could I not? Mom said that I needed to keep my mind busy with other things so I wouldn’t miss him as much, but that wasn’t working at all. For either of us. I’d caught her a few times staring off into space with a sad look in her eyes, and I was pretty sure it was because she was thinking about Dad. “I know this is hard on you; it’s hard on all of us,” she’d say. “But this summer will be good. I need help with Ava, and you’ll be so busy making new friends that you won’t even notice your dad is away.” But she was wrong. I’d never forget that he wasn’t with us. It’d been a week since we’d said good-bye to him, and we hadn’t heard from him yet. Mom said that as soon as he was able to, he’d contact us, but waiting was the worst ever, because I had no idea if he was okay or not. I didn’t say any of this to Mom, though, because I needed to be strong for her so she wouldn’t get upset. Dad had told me to try to do that, and I wanted to make him proud. I wiped my hands on my shorts and gripped the handle of the door. Even if Dad wasn’t here, I couldn’t break tradition. I was ready to get out of this car and jump into the pool. It was a ritual Dad and I had followed for years. We’d wear our bathing suits under our clothes, and before we even brought our bags into the house, the two of us would go for our first swim together. Mom and Grandma would sit on the porch with glasses of lemonade full of ice cubes, while Dad and I raced each other in the pool. We’d swim until our fingers were wrinkled like raisins and Mom told Dad to get out so he could start grilling. Even then, the two of us would eat at the picnic table in our bathing suits, not showering and changing until the sun had dipped deep down behind the trees. Mom beeped the horn one last time as she pulled into the driveway, and I was out the door before she even turned off the car. “I’ll bring my suitcase in later,” I shouted, and ran away before she could protest. I pulled my shirt off over my head and wadded it into a ball. I ran around the side of the house, wiggled out of my shorts, and threw them onto the back deck. I held my hands out and spun around, breathing in the familiar scent of fresh-cut grass and chlorine from the pool. As much as I didn’t want to come here for the whole summer, it felt good to be back, and maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad. I thought about what Dad would want me to do, took a few steps backward, and then ran forward and, with a giant cheer, did a cannonball into the pool. Summer had officially begun! When I surfaced, I swam to the other side by myself, pretending Dad was right alongside me.

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Product details

Age Range: 9 - 13 years

Grade Level: 4 - 8

Lexile Measure: 770L (What's this?)

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Series: mix

Paperback: 272 pages

Publisher: Aladdin (February 14, 2017)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1481459848

ISBN-13: 978-1481459846

Product Dimensions:

5.1 x 0.9 x 7.6 inches

Shipping Weight: 5.6 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)

Average Customer Review:

4.9 out of 5 stars

20 customer reviews

Amazon Best Sellers Rank:

#85,691 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

I am a Girl Scout Leader of 8 year old girls going into 3rd grade. They all have different reading levels and we challenged them to read this wonderful book in a month. It was a little bit difficult for a few but the majority of the girls finished it on time. Some of the comments about the book we received from the girls were "exciting", "funny", "good story" and "I liked it a lot", "I loved it".The author Rachele Alpine is amazing and the girl really loved getting the chance to talk to her and ask questions about her book. This was a unique experience for the girls that they absolutely loved.My daughter loved this book and it had a few words that were challenging for her. She loved the story and enjoyed reading this book because Gabby was able to play baseball and be in a pageant. I think she was able to relate to some of the characters which made the book more enjoyable for her. The book was fun and had my daughter laughing on several pages.

You Throw Like a Girl tackles the pressure young girls feel to fit a certain "type." Gabby has a mom who was a former beauty queen and a dad who was a local baseball legend. Gabby gravitated toward her father's pastime, taking up softball. But when her dad leaves the country and she heads to her grandmother's house for the summer, she finds herself pushed into the pageant world while also pretending to be a boy to get onto the only youth softball team in town. I had so much fun reading this book, but I also think it has a great message for young girls who might not be sure where they fit in the whole tomboy vs. girly-girl scheme of things.

A thought-provoking story for both elementary-aged girls (and even adults alike!). I read this book in preparation for Rachele's visit with our Girl Scout troop (all 17 members of which read the book in preparation for the visit). I found the story enriching, filled with fun humor, and with some twists and turns that any reader will appreciate. Love the message in the story -- the reminder to readers to always be themselves. To stand proud and make no excuse for who they are. Thank you for an inspiring story.

My 8 year old LOVED this book. We bought as part of the Girl Scout badge offer Rachele the author offers and my daughter now wants her other book she has out. Rachele was really sweet to write a letter back to my daughter as well which she enjoyed as much as the book. Great message for young girls!

A great read about a girl with an awesome fastball. The family and friend relationships in this book were very believable, and I enjoyed the book's feminist slant. As a baseball fan, this book was particularly enjoyable to read.

This is the first chapter book I've ever been able to get my 10 year old granddaughter to read. She had such a great feeling of accomplishment having completed it. We did read the book out loud together and I can vouch that it's an excellent read with a moral theme that lead to great discussions. We even purchased another of the author's books and just completed it last night. Our Girl Scout leader recommended this book for our troop to read.

Best book ever! My girls are thoroughly enjoying reading it ... and so am I! We have cried and laughed, this book really hits close to home.

My 8 year old daughter loves this book. She has read it several times. She also took advantage of Rachele Alpine's Girl Scout Patch program. We can't wait for the next book to be published.

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Sabtu, 06 Februari 2016

Download PDF My Early Life: 1874-1904, by Winston Churchill

Download PDF My Early Life: 1874-1904, by Winston Churchill

When someone is reading a publication in a sanctuary or in waiting checklist area, just what will you think of her or him? Do you feel that they are sort of big-headed individuals that do not care of the location around? Really, people who read wherever they are might not appear so, yet they could come to be the focal point. Nevertheless, exactly what they imply often will not as like just what we assumed.

My Early Life: 1874-1904, by Winston Churchill

My Early Life: 1874-1904, by Winston Churchill


My Early Life: 1874-1904, by Winston Churchill


Download PDF My Early Life: 1874-1904, by Winston Churchill

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My Early Life: 1874-1904, by Winston Churchill

Amazon.com Review

The voice of a vanished England speaks from the pages of Winston Churchill's evocative memoir of his first 30 years (1874-1904). The young Churchill inhabits a world in which men fight like hell in meaningless colonial wars--India, Egypt, South Africa--soldiering across the imperial map then extending the hand of friendship to their erstwhile enemy as if they were schoolmates at Harrow. Yet Churchill, born into a privileged family, was not an uncritical supporter of the Victorian status quo. He himself loathed Harrow; an especially amusing chapter skewers the school's emphasis on an irrelevant classical education and rote learning. A firm Tory, he considered himself a friend of the working class, and in 1899 campaigned for parliament with a Socialist colleague. Looking back from his vantage point of 1930, Churchill expresses the most attractive values of the English aristocracy--honor, loyalty, fair play--without giving the impression he wants to live in the past. The book's appeal also stems from its magisterial but colloquial prose. Anyone familiar with recordings of Churchill's rousing speeches during Word War II will hear in their minds' ears that growling timbre and unmistakably patrician accent as they read. Though he would have preferred the peace prize, My Early Life offers good evidence that Churchill's 1953 Nobel for literature was aptly awarded. --Wendy Smith

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From the Back Cover

Here, in his own words, are the fascinating first thirty years in the life of one of the most provocative and compelling leaders of the twentieth century - Winston Churchill. As a visionary, statesman, and historian, and the most eloquent spokesman against the Nazi Germany, Winston Churchill was one of the greatest figures of the twentieth century. In this autobiography, Churchill recalls his childhood, his schooling, his years as a war correspondent in South Africa during the Boer War, and his first forays into politics as a member of Parliament. My Early Life not only gives readers insights into the shaping of a great leader but, as Churchill himself wrote, "a picture of a vanished age".

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Product details

Paperback: 400 pages

Publisher: Scribner; unknown edition (June 6, 1996)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0684823454

ISBN-13: 978-0684823454

Product Dimensions:

5.5 x 1 x 8.4 inches

Shipping Weight: 12.8 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)

Average Customer Review:

4.6 out of 5 stars

127 customer reviews

Amazon Best Sellers Rank:

#38,677 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

First published in 1930, Winston Churchill's memoir, "My Early Life, 1874 - 1904", is mainly an account of his getting into trouble, getting back out, and writing about it. He developed skill at all three endeavors, especially the writing which, along with a speaking tour, became his primary source of support as a young man. He was a war correspondent for the Morning Post in London for many years, and published a dozen volumes beginning with "The River War" about a conflict along the Nile, and ending with a Nobel Prize in Literature.He recognized as a schoolboy that he was hopelessly unable to learn Latin and Greek, and so he was consigned to the study of English, considered a lesser scholastic endeavor. Two effects resulted: one, he was not able to enter Cambridge or Oxford without the classical languages, and two, he became very good with his native tongue.Denied the universities, he sought and won a commission in the Army, serving in a cavalry division. His first real military foray was in Egypt, then on to India, and finally he served in the South African Boer war of 1899. These adventures make up the bulk of the memoir.His capable renditions of these events, published as a column in the Post, were quite popular. When he finally returned to civilian life he had a ready audience for his talks and speeches. He really is good at spinning a yarn; his memoir quickly becomes a page-turner, and it was very popular at the time it was published. I found it most enjoyable too.In all these battles a great deal of ordinance was fired in Winston's direction, but none of it hit him. This fact alone renders his stories with a sort of Hollywood Western gloss, and certainly heighten the reader's attention.Probably the most riveting tale was of his capture by the Dutchman, Louis Botha, who could easily have shot him and let it go at that, but didn't and became a lifelong friend. Botha turned Churchill over to a Boer prison, from which Winston soon escaped. The escape tale involves a coal mine labyrinth, a lot of worrying and waiting, and some freight trains, one carrying coal sacks, and another great bales of wool.From today's viewpoint Winston was clearly a shameless imperialist and racist, pretty normal for the British of the time. There doesn't seem to be any malice in it, just ignorance. He was always an enthusiastic servant of Empire; though he did examine the best course of British action from the viewpoint of the colonized, he never escaped his imperialist assumptions.While on his lecture tour he chanced to have a conversation with Mark Twain which turned to the recent war with the Boers. Churchill notes that Twain deftly, by socratic method I suppose, forced Winston into an uncomfortable corner, where he was saying "My country right or wrong." Twain replied, "When the poor country is fighting for its life I agree. But this was not your case." I think Clemens had the sharper wit.Churchill was showered with honors in his senior years. After his name come no less than seven titles: "KG OM CH TD DL FRS RA", just the beginning of a much longer list of recognitions.What drove him to greatness? Well, he was born into a noble family, a very accomplished and well positioned British father, Lord Randolph Churchill, MP, Exchequer, etc., and a smart, wealthy, and attractive American mother. Yet neither of them gave Winston much in the way of affectionate support as a child. So he felt orphaned in this splendid family, a situation that is often a spur to excel. Yet later, as a young man, he had a great deal of support from his mother who was always pulling strings for him, and from his late father's friends who were a very powerful group.Winston used all this support to get himself placed in army positions where he did his best. He spent his off hours in India, about five hours every sweltering midday, reading himself much of an education that he had missed by not going to university. When you add to all this his war correspondence for a growing readership, you have a man who could win election to Parliament, and did. The rest is history.

I found this to be a delightful book. Churchill's writing style is very droll and engaging. He has a wonderful story to tell, and tells it very effectively. He had a long and very eventful life, which really was just getting started when this book ends when the author was in his early thirties. I wonder if he had any idea what lay before him.This is a very readable and compelling story about a little known era in Churchill's life. The introduction reminds us that the author won a Nobel Prize for Literature. That seems little wonder, and reading this book by Churchill has inspired me to look for others. Highly recommended.

This is a humorous and honest account that reveals why Churchill rose to the heights that he did. It is obvious he was imperfect (as we all are) and certainly carried the prejudices and conceits of his time and class. His childhood by no means was predictive of the greatness to come. In all the humorous accounts, it is painfully obvious he was a lousy student who apparently did not even finish school! His father correctly anticipated that he couldn't make it to the university. While Churchill had an affinity for the army since childhood, it took him all of three attempts to make it in. And even during the final attempt, he barely squeaked through at the bottom, because the more successful candidates preferred infantry to the expensive cavalry, which Churchill agreed to join. Churchill comes to his own in India where he not only set about to make up for lost time by reading voraciously, but grabbed every opportunity that came his way. Where there was none, he created the opportunity using all means (and they were not insignificant!) at his disposal. By sheer enthusiasm and tenacity, he became the person who was repeatedly in the right place at the right time.Churchill certainly does not portray himself as some super natural or extraordinarily gifted individual. It is a very readable account of persistence, courage (despite at times frankly admitted fears) and carrying on despite adversity. Along the way, we learn of his romantic notions and misguided enthusiasm for war being transformed through bitter experience. For all his opportunism, Churchill also had the courage to openly condemn the less than stellar conduct of his superiors, much to his own detriment (it most probably cost him a VC).It is the authenticity of his account written with good humor, that makes this autobiography so readable. While Churchill had the advantages of his social position, there were many others far better placed who couldn't achieve half as much. It confirms that most humans are capable of achieving greatness, if they would apply themselves and a little bit of luck smiles upon them. My only criticism is that the book ends abruptly, as if Churchill had a deadline to meet. Or, he simply got tired of the whole thing!

Winston Churchill's outstanding characteristic, for me, was his tireless participation in life, from the lowly task of wall masonry to the saving of his country from the Nazi scourge. That work ethic is evident in "My Early Life." Because he was a superior man, I never mind his superior attitude, which also comes across in this book. Churchill lived his life to the fullest in a manner that not only pleased him but benefitted others. He is someone to be emulated.

While Churchill might have been slightly blind to his parents and their affections, his portrayal of the times and the inside knowledge of the systems at work are enlightening. He describes the historical aspects and his life during this time in clear, illustrative and humorous ways. Yes, he made some colossal mistakes in his lifetime - retrospect provides a clearer picture - but this leader was amazing and I wish there were a few like him around today.

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