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Pharmacy Choice - for the Pharmacist, Technician and Student - December 25, 2013 - Pharmacy Choice - online community for the pharmacist, pharmacy technician and pharmacy student, offering pharmacy jobs, continuing education, pharmaceutical news and drug data.

Country: North America, US, United States

City: 92121 San Diego, California

  • James O.S.CT - Excellent biographical history.

    Having studied U.S. presidencies over the years, I've always taken an interest in Calvin Coolidge and his ties to New England and Massachusetts. This volume on Calvin Coolidge by Amity Shlaes is one of the most well crafted biographies of Silent Cal I've read.
    Ms. Shlaes' integration of the biographical history of the man woven with the economic development of the nineteen-twenties illustrates a new perspective of a very under rated, if not forgotten president. Must read.

  • Travis Marlette - This works well

    I had a Skin Tag under my arm, and I had had it for years. It was small, but it would get irritated whenever I would exercise. i went to the doctor, and they said it would be about $150 bucks to get rid of it, which i wasn't about to pay. I saw Tag Away a couple years after that visit, and figured that it wouldn't work, but it was a lot cheaper than the doctor, so what they hay right?

    I truly didn't think it would do anything for me, and when you do put it on it smells like a form of Eucalyptus, though quite strong. I followed the schedule relatively close. some days two applications, others 3, and about 5 weeks later, the tag just went black, and dried out. it happened over about three days, but after that, it was like having a loose scab under my arm. I mean that literally, because every time I went to pull it off, there was the similar pain of picking a scab.

    Anyway, about a week after that, it simply fell off, and no scar. Personally I would recommend it. It's considerably cheaper than a doctor, though based on these reviews I'd say not effective for everyone. Is it worth a shot... in my opinion, absolutely. Do a cost comparison with your family doctor first, then decide for yourself if the cost is worth it.

  • Paul Pearson - It's all about relationships.

    Connoisseurs of fine milk often ask, "Why is Tuscan Whole Milk so expensive? Is it the velvety texture, the lightly sweet lactose, the softened hue?" I just smile, amused by the idea that Tuscan's value is defined by its physical components. The truth is something greater, more ethereal, and immeasurable. More than just letting our cows traipse freely across the grassy meadows. More than just their fibrous organic diet.

    Tuscan Whole Milk is all about relationships. Specifically, the relationship with the cow.

    We don't treat our cows as mere objects. We're not the type to hang out in barns after hours, filling our emotional voids with the first over-lipsticked heifer who winks at us. We don't confuse our passion with vulgar hunger. We're not dairy lizards on the prowl, looking for vacuous, weathered Bessies to swap cud and play hide-the-udder with.

    We take our time. We want to get to know the cow. Its passions, its dreams. Our commonalities.

    Maybe we'll start with dinner. A candle is lit, Mantovani strings play softly. I enter the stable in Versace overalls and masculine confidence. I have bruschetta with kalamata and roasted red pepper tapenade; she has a clump of orchard grass.

    We don't need each other's life story. We are two beings who just happened to intersect at the same time - we care about who we are now. There will be a lifetime for us to ask questions of each other. But for now, we consume ourselves in each other's gazes and swim in the light of our connection.

    We laugh. Oh, how we laugh.

    After we dissolve in the pleasure of each other's company, after we've talked and mooed about our dreams, our loves, the scars of our past heartbreaks, dark moments when we were tipped over by college pranksters - only then do I level my stare, gather my longing and courage, and ask the question that has hovered over the entire morning. A question that must be asked with grace and poise, cognizant of desire, yet protective of the vulnerability of the secret that passes between us:

    "Forgive me if this is too forward, but the stirrings of my heart beat in time to the cocking of the rooster, my pulse quickens with the movement of the tractor, and my intent is well-meant. My gentle bovine, my cherished, hooved friend... may I milk you?"

    And then, the moment. I place my stool beside her udder, as if I am laying a ceremonial carpet `neath a queen. I pat her side. It's all right, I'm saying. I'm beside you. Close your eyes, my pet, and dream of Kentucky bluegrass.

    I start gently, with a mild tug, a touch that says all that words cannot. But it can't be rushed, or forced into speed. I'm not some teenage jackhammer, and she's no automatic fountain. Gentle rolls, knowing caresses, speed and velocity only ramping up as it feels natural. My pace hastens, my heart sets it charges, my voice rises to sing with the celestial chorale.

    At long last, our forbidden dance reaches its pinnacle, its emotional summit! "We're almost there!" I exclaim! "Love me!" she... well, I'm pretty sure she's saying "Love me" in cowspeak, whatever that is. Then at last, long last, I hear the first drops in the bottom of the bucket. Then a quicker series of drops, then... oh, then! Streams of lactic gold, filling our coffers, gushing towards ecstasy until it nearly spills over the sides!

    It ends all too quickly, yet it feels complete. I roll over and chew on a hayseed. She stands there. Oh, the volumes of words she says by the stillest of movements. She doesn't have to be outlandish in her actions. She doesn't have to acknowledge anything. She knows. We know.

    So when people ask me, "Why is Tuscan Whole Milk so expensive?", I respond with a shaking head, a raised eyebrow, and return the question to them -

    "Have you ever really loved a cow?"