Still Laughing Still Learning Still Looking For A Good Title

In the style of works by Robert Fulghum and Anne Lamott, the stories in Still Laughing, Still Learning (Still Looking for a Good Title) touch on a plenitude of topics, from the warm fuzzies and terrors of parenting to the joys and conundrums of pastoring. But you don't need to be a church person to appreciate Chadwick's insights into the human condition. You may snort milk out your nose at his take on one heck of a biking mishap and then be deeply moved by his interpretations of emotional hot buttons like anger, inclusivity, and death. And while the last thing the world may need is another book, this collection proves there can never be too many stories. AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY: Bill Chadwick is a graduate of the University of Minnesota and San Francisco Theological Seminary. Bill's favorite roles in life are husband, dad, preacher, and writer, but he is also a fisherperson, ventriloquist, stand-up comic, biker, and cross-country skier. He and his wife, Kris Jacobson, live in the Minneapolis area.

BOOKER PRIZE WINNER • NATIONAL BESTSELLER • A novel that follows a middle-aged man as he contends with a past he never much thought about—until his closest childhood friends return with a vengeance: one of them from the grave, another maddeningly present. A novel so compelling that it begs to be read in a single setting, The Sense of an Ending has the psychological and emotional depth and sophistication of Henry James at his best, and is a stunning achievement in Julian Barnes's oeuvre. Tony Webster thought he left his past behind as he built a life for himself, and his career has provided him with a secure retirement and an amicable relationship with his ex-wife and daughter, who now has a family of her own. But when he is presented with a mysterious legacy, he is forced to revise his estimation of his own nature and place in the world.

From the USA TODAY bestselling author of Sweet Thing and Nowhere But Here comes a love story about a Craigslist “missed connection” post that gives two people a second chance at love fifteen years after they were separated in New York City. To the Green-eyed Lovebird: We met fifteen years ago, almost to the day, when I moved my stuff into the NYU dorm room next to yours at Senior House. You called us fast friends. I like to think it was more. We lived on nothing but the excitement of finding ourselves through music (you were obsessed with Jeff Buckley), photography (I couldn’t stop taking pictures of you), hanging out in Washington Square Park, and all the weird things we did to make money. I learned more about myself that year than any other. Yet, somehow, it all fell apart. We lost touch the summer after graduation when I went to South America to work for National Geographic. When I came back, you were gone. A part of me still wonders if I pushed you too hard after the wedding… I didn’t see you again until a month ago. It was a Wednesday. You were rocking back on your heels, balancing on that thick yellow line that runs along the subway platform, waiting for the F train. I didn’t know it was you until it was too late, and then you were gone. Again. You said my name; I saw it on your lips. I tried to will the train to stop, just so I could say hello. After seeing you, all of the youthful feelings and memories came flooding back to me, and now I’ve spent the better part of a month wondering what your life is like. I might be totally out of my mind, but would you like to get a drink with me and catch up on the last decade and a half? M

"A collection of ten short stories that all take place in the same day about kids walking home from school"--

The creative strategies in Design for Transformative Learning offer a playful and practical approach to learning from and adapting to a rapidly changing world. Seeing continuous learning as more than the periodic acquisition of new skills this book presents a design-led approach to revising the stories we tell ourselves, unlearning old habits and embracing new practices. This book maps learning opportunities across the contemporary landscape, narrating global case studies from K12, higher education, design consultancies and researchers. It offers narrative context, best practices and emergent strategies for how designers can partner in the important work of advancing a lifetime of learning. Committed to driving sustained transformation this is a playbook of practical moves for designing memory-making, perspective-shifting, hands-on learning encounters. The book braids stories from design practice with theories of change, transformative learning literature, cognitive and social psychology research, affect theory and Indigenous knowing. Positioning the COVID-19 pandemic as a moment to question what was previously normalised, the book proposes playful strategies for seeding transformational change. The relational practice at the core of Design for Transformative Learning argues that if learning is to be transformative the experience must be embodied, cognitive and social. This book is an essential read for design and social innovation researchers, facilitators of community engagement and co-design workshops, design and arts educators and professional learning designers. It is a useful primer for K12 teachers, organisational change practitioners and professional development facilitators curious to explore the intersection of design and learning. The companion website for the book is a practical resource that connects to many of the projects, activities, methods, designers and stories introduced in the book. The site includes links to downloadable colour diagrams, templates for digital learning encounters, and additional reflective narratives on transformative experiences. www.designingtransformativelearning.com

Jon Dies at the End is a genre-bending, humorous account of two college drop-outs inadvertently charged with saving their small town--and the world--from a host of supernatural and paranormal invasions. Now a Major Motion Picture. "[Pargin] is like a mash-up of Douglass Adams and Stephen King... 'page-turner' is an understatement." —Don Coscarelli, director, Phantasm I-V, Bubba Ho-tep STOP. You should not have touched this flyer with your bare hands. NO, don't put it down. It's too late. They're watching you. My name is David. My best friend is John. Those names are fake. You might want to change yours. You may not want to know about the things you'll read on these pages, about the sauce, about Korrok, about the invasion, and the future. But it's too late. You touched the book. You're in the game. You're under the eye. The only defense is knowledge. You need to read this book, to the end. Even the part with the bratwurst. Why? You just have to trust me. The important thing is this: The sauce is a drug, and it gives users a window into another dimension. John and I never had the chance to say no. You still do. I'm sorry to have involved you in this, I really am. But as you read about these terrible events and the very dark epoch the world is about to enter as a result, it is crucial you keep one thing in mind: None of this was my fault.

New York Times bestselling author Jen Lancaster takes you from sorority house to penthouse to poorhouse in her hilarious memoir of living the sweet life—until real life kicked her to the curb. She had the perfect man, the perfect job—hell, she had the perfect life—and there was no reason to think it wouldn't last. Or maybe there was, but Jen Lancaster was too busy being manicured, pedicured, highlighted, and generally adored to notice. This is the smart-mouthed, soul-searching story of a woman trying to figure out what happens next when she's gone from six figures to unemployment checks and she stops to reconsider some of the less-than-rosy attitudes and values she thought she'd never have to answer for when times were good. Filled with caustic wit and unusual insight, it's a rollicking read as speedy and unpredictable as the trajectory of a burst balloon.

Algonquin “Ali” Rhodes, the high school newspaper’s music critic, meets an intriguing singer, Doug, while reviewing a gig. He’s a weird-looking guy—goth, but he seems sincere about it, like maybe he was into it back before it was cool. She introduces herself after the set, asking if he lives in Cornersville, and he replies, in his slow, quiet murmur, “Well, I don’t really live there, exactly. . . .” When Ali and Doug start dating, Ali is falling so hard she doesn’t notice a few odd signs: he never changes clothes, his head is a funny shape, and he says practically nothing out loud. Finally Marie, the school paper’s fashion editor, points out the obvious: Doug isn’t just a really sincere goth. He’s a zombie. Horrified that her feelings could have allowed her to overlook such a flaw, Ali breaks up with Doug, but learns that zombies are awfully hard to get rid of—at the same time she learns that vampires, a group as tightly-knit as the mafia, don’t think much of music critics who make fun of vampires in reviews. . . .