Q: I’ve often been asked, “What is a blog?” This is my attempt to answer that question in a simple way. The word blog is short for web log and although the quick answer for me would be “a web journal” or “online diary,” I think blogs encompass more than that. Blogs are platforms for people to write about pretty much anything and everything. I was first introduced to the concept when a few friends starting writing family blogs as a way to keep in touch with distant friends and relatives or keep up with documenting their lives for themselves or their children. Sort of like a modern day scrapbook or baby book. Then, I followed a couple friends as they blogged about traveling around America. One’s purpose was to find a small town to settle in and the other’s purpose was to kill time while unemployed and waiting for a call to serve as a minister. Now I follow all sorts of blogs. There are blogs about dogs, traveling, kids, cooking, religion, fitness, politics, crafts, parenting, writing, educating, interior design, you name it! There are even blogs about blogging! Individuals run blogs. Groups of friends run blogs. Businesses run blogs. Religious institutions run blogs. Blogs are a way for people to connect over certain topics and interests, socializing in the ever-growing blogosphere. Chances are, you’ve read blog posts without even realizing it. Most look like an article you’d find on any website. But blog posts typically have a personal touch. They’re a wonderful way for people to share tips, tricks, tutorials, inspiration, and more with others. If you want a more thorough definition of the term blog, this one is from Wikipedia. Blogs are also a way for businesses to advertise through honest reviews and giveaways. They partner up with bloggers to spread the word about their products or services. So, some bloggers are also advertisers. According to the above context, answer the following question. When did the writer begin following blogs?

A: When some friends wrote family blogs and others blogged about traveling.


Q: It was not entirely true that Patch knew there was food in the mountains. He had never been to the mountains. No squirrel in all the Center Kingdom, as far as he knew, had ever been to the mountains. For between the kingdom and the mountains, surrounding it on all sides like a moat around a castle, there lay a blasted concrete wasteland, as wide as fifty squirrels laid nose to tail, and horrific death machines roared up and down this wasteland at terrifying speeds, all day and night. What's more, humans and dogs often crossed between the mountains and the kingdoms. And sometimes the dogs were not leashed. A squirrel would have to be very desperate indeed to dare the wastelands. It was Toro who had told Patch about the food in the mountains. Toro was Patch's friend. And that itself was extraordinary. Patch had always talked to birds. The drey he had grown up in -- Silver's old drey, before she became leader of the Seeker clan -- had been only a few branches away from a nest of robins. Once, in early spring when he was still a baby, Patch had crawled out of Silver's drey and into the robin's nest, and had spent a whole day among the chicks before Silver returned home and retrieved him. The robin mother had been unamused by Silver's profound apologies, and even less amused when Patch had returned to her nest the very next day. Eventually Silver taught Patch to leave the robins alone, but not before he had learned how to speak Bird. Most squirrels of the Center Kingdom could say and understand a few simple things in Bird, but Patch could actually hold conversations. And so, one autumn day when a bluejay swooped past and stole an acorn out of Patch's paws, Patch shouted angrily at the thief in Bird to bring it back; and the thief, intrigued, wheeled around in midair, perched on a branch above Patch, and looked curiously down at the irate squirrel. "Thieving feather-brained no-nose hawkbait!" Patch shouted up. "Stupid blind furry groundworm!" the bluejay retorted, and began to peck at the acorn. According to the above context, answer the following question. Who is Toro?

A: not enough information


Q: What would you do – you’re driving past hundreds of citrus trees. With a better look, they’re mandarins, or, more precisely clementines. On the roadside is a truck selling crates of them for 1 euro a kilo. You stop, right? And buy a crate of 10 kilos. Even though you have to get on a plane the next day. I couldn’t help myself. Marco, who I had already made turn 180 degrees to drive back to the truck, gave me that look of disapproval when I want to do something totally unreasonable like impulse buy citrus fruit that we can’t keep. “What are we going to do with these?” He questioned. I wasn’t sure. I wanted to taste them, I wanted to photograph them. And maybe I could even squeeze some of them into our tiny bag to take home. “It won’t be a waste, I’ll give the rest away!” I reasoned. He just shook his head, giving in. I bought them, a big grin on my face. We were just outside the port city of Taranto, on the western coast of Puglia in Italy’s deep south, where we spent a long weekend recently and where clementines have special IGP (Protected Geographical Indication) status. These clementines — a hybrid of oranges and mandarins — grow in the fertile soil around the gulf of Taranto, particularly around the town of Palagiano (also known as “the city of clementines” — they celebrate the symbol of their city with a sagra, a food festival, every December) and the delicate fruit is harvested by hand. We don’t get these in Florence, it was my only chance to taste them – they are small with very few, if any, seeds, and they are very sweet. According to the above context, answer the following question. Who is Marco?

A:
not enough information