LADY MISSED HER FLIGHT : LADY MISSED

Lady Missed Her Flight : Pia Airline Ticket : Cheap Flights From Birmingham Airport.

Lady Missed Her Flight


lady missed her flight
    missed
  • Fail to catch (something thrown or dropped)
  • Fail to hit, reach, or come into contact with (something aimed at)
  • lost: not caught with the senses or the mind; "words lost in the din"
  • (miss) girl: a young woman; "a young lady of 18"
  • Pass by without touching; chance not to hit
  • (miss) fail to perceive or to catch with the senses or the mind; "I missed that remark"; "She missed his point"; "We lost part of what he said"
    flight
  • (in soccer, cricket, etc.) Deliver (a ball) with well-judged trajectory and pace
  • a formation of aircraft in flight
  • Shoot (wildfowl) in flight
  • an instance of traveling by air; "flying was still an exciting adventure for him"
  • shoot a bird in flight
    lady
  • An informal, often brusque, form of address to a woman
  • a polite name for any woman; "a nice lady at the library helped me"
  • a woman of the peerage in Britain
  • dame: a woman of refinement; "a chauffeur opened the door of the limousine for the grand lady"
  • A woman (used as a polite or old-fashioned form of reference)
  • A women's public toilet
lady missed her flight - Own The
Own The Night
Own The Night
Reigning CMA and ACM Vocal Group of the Year Lady Antebellum will release their third Capitol Nashville studio album Own The Night. The album's lead single "Just A Kiss" has quickly become the fastest-rising single of the trio's career, climbing into the Top 10 on Billboard's Country Singles chart in just six weeks.
"We took more time to write and record this record than we've ever done before," says Charles Kelley. "I remember looking at Hillary and Dave at the GRAMMYs this year, on the wildest night of our lives, and saying `this is amazing...we'll never get to experience a moment like this again, but now we have to go home and get to work.'"
"One of our favorite songs on the new record is called `We Owned The Night,' which is about a special once-in-a-lifetime moment, and we thought that naming the album around that same sentiment was really appropriate," says Hillary Scott.
Own The Night follows the band's GRAMMY winning sophomore album Need You Now. Since its release in January 2010, the album has sold over five million copies across the globe, spawned three multi-week #1 hits, taken home five GRAMMY Awards and scored over a dozen other award show trophies. With the success of "Just A Kiss" already producing massive momentum for Lady Antebellum's highly anticipated release, the trio is sure to own the night.

78% (9)
Venetia Stanley, Lady Digby, on her deathbed
Venetia Stanley, Lady Digby, on her deathbed
Venetia Anastasia Stanley Digby (December 1600 - May 1, 1633) was the third daughter of Sir Edward Stanley, a minor noble,[1] and Lucy Percy Stanley (daughter and co-heiress of the Earl of Northumberland who had lost his head over a Catholic plot against Elizabeth I). According to The Oxford Dictionary of English Christian Names, "Venetia" is most likely a Latinization of "Gwyneth," and the name was popularized by Venetia Stanley. A celebrated beauty, Venetia moved to London alone in her early teens, and had garnered a licentious reputation well before her twentieth birthday. Rumor noted later by the curious antiquary John Aubrey had it that she was the "Concubine" of Richard Sackville, Earl of Dorset (died 1624), who had children by her and settled upon her an annuity of ?500 p.a..[2] Circa 1625, she eventually married the celebrated scientist and adventurer Kenelm Digby, who, when the earl or his heir withheld Venetia's annuity, sued for it, according to John Aubrey, and won. Sir Kenelm wrote a "private memoir" of their courtship which is one of the major sources of information about her. It uses pseudonyms, Theagenes and Stelliana, and appears to have been revised throughout Digby's life. "This lady carried herself blamelessly," Aubrey note, "yet (they say) he was jealous of her". A reason for the secrecy of the marriage is supposed to have been potential disapproval by both their parents and a fear that Venetia's father might leave her out of his will. In truth, the secrecy of their marriage for its first few years probably contributed to her reputation and the fact that some sources, following John Aubrey,[3] still inaccurately refer to her as a "courtesan." Several books put forth the notion that Digby's mother objected to Venetia because of her supposed poverty, but through her mother's family, Venetia had a much larger personal fortune than her husband. It is more likely that Mary Digby, a devout Catholic, either had another woman in mind for her son, or was horrified by Venetia's reputation. According to John Aubrey's memoranda, Digby is supposed to have replied to concerns over Venetia's virtue with the comment that "A handsome lusty man that was discreet might make avirtuous wife out of a brothel-house." During her marriage, Venetia was also a devout Catholic. According to her husband, who insisted that she conducted herself "blamelessly" throughout their marriage, she heard Mass daily and prayed for at least several hours a day. She also joined a lay Franciscan group and visited the poor in London. She funded her charity work through a gambling habit, with unusually good luck at the card table and a scheme to save up her profits. She had four sons, one of whom died in infancy. She was painted at least three times by Van Dyck in the 1630s: a family portrait, an allegorical portrait as Prudence, and a deathbed portrait. The last time Venetia was painted was in May, 1633. She went to bed as usual on the night of April 30, but never woke the next morning. Digby had been up late, and had chosen to sleep in another room so as not to wake her. When her maid tried to wake Venetia on the morning of May 1 for her customary morning horseback ride, she found Venetia dead in the same position in which she had left her the night before. Venetia's death was a major tragedy for Digby, probably the single most defining event of his life. Although he had not been faithful, and would fall in love again, it was a definite dividing line between two phases: the one in which he was a bright young courtier jockeying for position, and the one in which he was a melancholy scientist and Catholic apologist. Within two days, he had plaster casts made of her head, hands, and feet, and had Van Dyck, a good friend, paint Venetia on her deathbed. There was an elaborate evening funeral at Christchurch, Newgate, in London, and a spectacular monument. There were also suspicions. Autopsies were rare at the time, but an autopsy was performed before Venetia was buried, in an attempt to determine the cause of death. Digby reported that she had always been healthy, but had suffered occasional headaches through the previous eight years, for which she took "viper-wine" (which could have been one of several concoctions involving vipers or their venom in wine, and which in any case is not likely to have been toxic through ingestion). "When her skull was opened, they found but very little brain," is the autopsy quote, and the probable cause of death was believed to have been some form of cerebral hemorrhage. However, what we know of her symptoms does not line up with that diagnosis, so it is likely that her death will always be a mystery. This did not set gossip to rest. It was widely suspected that Venetia had killed herself or been murdered by Digby, perhaps out of jealousy. Digby eventually fled to Gresham College, where h
An open letter to President Obama
An open letter to President Obama
Dear Mr. President: I voted for your opponent last November, but you won that election fair and square and rather handily as well, and today I consider myself a member of the loyal opposition. As such, I wish to present a few thoughts and suggestions of my own, having your best interests and those of the country at heart. Tomorrow you will be speaking at Dobson High School in Mesa, Arizona, which is located exactly one mile from where I live. I will not be present during the speech, but hope to be somewhere in the immediate vicinity of the school, with my camera and Nikkor 55-200mm zoom lens in hand, as you arrive and depart. And naturally, I also hope to get at least one really good photo that will generate some good bragging rights in the Flickr world, if not some other award, such as a Pulitzer Prize. I know you are scheduled to leave the Phoenix area shortly after noon that same day, but I propose a minor schedule change that I believe would be worth your while. As I mentioned, I live exactly one mile from Dobson High. At precisely the same distance from my home, but in the opposite direction, is the Chandler Fred Astaire studio, a photograph of which is provided here for reference. It has been my favorite hangout for the past couple of years, ever since, at age 53, I started taking dance lessons there. That was one of the best things I have ever done, and since then, dancing has benefited me far more than I ever imagined it would. I have been a bookworm all my life, but today, given a choice between reading and dancing, I think I would more than likely choose the latter. (I have been known, incidentally, to recite Dante, in the original Italian, during my dance lessons. And once Miss Lindsey and I discussed the Battle of Leyte Gulf while dancing a rumba. But I digress.) Which brings up my first point: I would like to invite you to visit the studio after you finish your speech, and if you’ll offer me a ride in your limousine, I’ll even accompany you there myself and introduce you to the owner and her staff. I think they could easily be persuaded to give you an introductory lesson or two right there on the spot, and any of the female instructors at the studio – Miss Gergana, Miss Lindsey, or Miss Susan -- would assuredly jump at the opportunity and make the experience both pleasant and memorable for you. So would Miss Amber, the other female instructor, but I mention her separately for a reason. In addition to delighting you to no end with her bubbly and engaging personality, she would also make you sweat at least as much as you do in those pickup basketball games you enjoy so much. One 45-minute lesson with Miss Amber would be the only workout you would need that day, and there would be no reason for you to dribble a basketball amid the narrow confines of Air Force One during your flight back to Washington. I realize this little detour would mean postponing your departure time by a couple of hours, but please trust my judgment when I say that the time would be far better spent at the studio, with the likes of Miss Gergana, than it would be in trying to wheedle and cajole those clowns at the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue. I make this suggestion for another, far more important reason. Like millions of other Americans of both parties, I watched your inauguration and its accompanying festivities with great interest. I must admit, however, that I was more than a little disappointed by the performance you and the new First Lady gave during the round of inaugural balls you attended. What you displayed for us at those events was, admittedly, movement of some kind, but in my estimation, it hardly qualifies as dance. From a couple such as you and Michelle, celebrated as you are as the typifying of youth, class, and sophistication, I would have expected something as graceful and elegant as the foxtrot or waltz, as romantic as the bolero, as sensual as the Argentine tango, or perhaps as lively and invigorating as the cha-cha, quickstep, or jive. But surely we all deserved something better than the 20 seconds or so of lifeless, perfunctory sashaying that we saw repeated several times that night. Heck, even I danced better than that clear back in 1979, the year you graduated from high school, when I was a student at BYU and a girl named Sandy Wyatt asked me to Preference. (Sandy, if you happen to read this open letter, I’d love to dance with you again sometime! I think I would be a little better at it now than I was 30 years ago.) The Presidency, as Teddy Roosevelt put it, is the ultimate “bully pulpit.” Implicit in this characterization is the notion that the President should, at least ideally, be a sort of national role model. For the reasons I am about to suggest, I believe you – and by extension, your wife – have a responsibility to set a good example for all of us, including through the cultivation and development of good dance-floor skills. This brings up my second point, which

lady missed her flight
Comments