Humour is infectious. The sound of roaring laughter is far more contagious than any cough, sniffle, or sneeze. When laughter is shared, it binds people together and increases happiness and intimacy. Laughter also triggers healthy physical changes in the body. Humour and laughter strengthen your immune system, boost your energy, diminish pain, and protect you from the damaging effects of stress. Best of all, this priceless medicine is fun, free, and easy to use.

Laughter is a powerful antidote to stress, pain, and conflict. Nothing works faster or more dependably to bring your mind and body back into balance than a good laugh. Humour lightens your burdens, inspires hopes, connects you to others, and keeps you grounded, focused, and alert.

With so much power to heal and renew, the ability to laugh easily and frequently is a tremendous resource for surmounting problems, enhancing your relationships, and supporting both physical and emotional health.

Laughter is good for your health
Laughter relaxes the whole body. A good, hearty laugh relieves physical tension and stress, leaving your muscles relaxed for up to 45 minutes after.

Laughter boosts the immune system.
Laughter decreases stress hormones and increases immune cells and infection-fighting antibodies, thus improving your resistance to disease.

Laughter triggers the release of endorphins, the body’s natural feel-good chemicals. Endorphins promote an overall sense of well-being and can even temporarily relieve pain.

Laughter protects the heart.
Laughter improves the function of blood vessels and increases blood flow, which can help protect you against a heart attack and other cardiovascular problems.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit http://www.paul-lambis.com

Here I stand seeking for miracle, and there you stand with a smile ever so pretty. Within a second, I could feel that my heart skipped a beat. Watching me stand alone, you gave out your hand for me to reach as a sign of your willingness to take me away. Two lost lovebirds reunited once again….. And, a journey soon begins.

In our existence, once again. We seize the Halley’s comet with a journey out of nowhere to alienate ourselves from the universe before it finds us and parts us. There we are, smiling and gazing in each other’s presence. And, there I am in your arms, feeling so safe. Not caring for one bit to what may happen next. All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow. You’ve kept your promise, for all the times you stood by me.

Finally, things lighten up once again. A soul fully charged, yours and mine. Things are finally back to “normal“, back to how it used to be, even though it was just for a day. But, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s you and me….. Us, having a good conversation, smile, laugh, sing happy songs, and have a sit down with cigarettes in our hands.

A perfect day, indeed, to be wasted. No, it was not wasted. Not when it is a day when I’m with you. It is a day worth well-spent, a splendid adventure.

I could picture us, you and me alone, would drive for miles and miles and for what seems like a thousand miles away, just for a cup of coffee and a nice talk. To spend the day away, just us two, for some more for the sake of a quality time. And, to be honest, I could not imagine that kind of day with anyone else but you.

Either in the meaningless roar of the city, or in the quiet cubicle, I doubt that we would care as long as we could be together. But, we have a situation that’s unbelievably painful and unbreakable, that caused us to be impossible to be together. And, this is where I wonder….. Is it so wrong to want something that’s not mine to have?

One day is such a little time, and not enough to have you with me. But, for what it’s worth, I am glad that at least we have a day to go through together….. To walk hand in hand, secretly, until there comes the time for us to say goodbye. And, tonight, I lay my head with the taste of you, with a hope for a tomorrow or the days after that will present us with a day like this.

Grey High Reunion:       https://www.dropbox.com/sh/6d69lijriikur2j/5EOQLJzYU8#/

Helshoogte Stellenbosch Reunion: http://www.facebook.com/helshoogte

Enjoy the pics as much as I did the reunions!

i love Broad beans but a lot of people do not double peel the skins off and find them unpleasant. the tomatoes seem to have self seeded and I hope they ripen. i got seedlings for 3 types of lettuce and they seem to be growing well. the other winter vegetables are good for soups like, cauliflower, broccoli, leeks and turnips. There is giant Swiss Chard which is a good substitute for Spinach and beetroot which goes nicely with many meals . All the herbs cam be grown in pots and the excess put in the garden latter as they are also ornamental.

Some Jokes for the Day.

The Smoking Room with a massage.

It`s a wonder it`s not Organic.

I was told this beer is good for you, but it still has alcohol in it.

Definitely not Organic.

The only good use for traffic cones.

When “fire season” started, the Fire Center hired seasonal employees to handle the increased demand on the Fire Cache.  Orders would come in from fires all over the western United States and the large crew of workers would quickly load trucks with needed food and equipment, sending them on their way as quickly as possible to outfit the brave men and women who spent all summer battling fires in unbelievably rough and dangerous conditions.  Other times the trucks would return filled to capacity with used dirty equipment, clothes that had been worn for days or weeks, and sleeping bags covered with dirt.  The smell of smoke clung to everything.  We found all sorts of things in the used supplies that returned to the cache, but most unwelcome were the times we shook out a sleeping bag or article of clothing and found a scorpion or a tarantula that had been hiding inside.  The Fire Cache employees would have to clean, inspect and restock all the returned equipment so that it was ready and waiting when the next big order came in.

It was hot, physical labor.  Much of it happened outdoors under the blazing sun which shone with relentless intensity all through the Arizona summer.  Our boss was a wonderful woman who urged us to hydrate often and rest regularly, sometimes even pulling us aside and insisting that we take a breather if she noticed any signs of over exertion.  Safety was her first priority.  She was fully aware of the brutally hot and dry conditions that we worked in and watched us carefully to make sure we didn’t hurt ourselves or push ourselves beyond our individual capacities.  A case of heat exhaustion was never going to happen on her watch.

It was by far the hottest, dirtiest, most exhausting work I have ever experienced – and I loved it.  To someone else, I might just appear to be sorting filthy laundry or stocking shelves, but I realized that the Fire Center and the Cache warehouse were absolutely essential to the protection of our forests and the residential areas that were frequently threatened by raging fire.  The firefighters – the “Hot Shots” – were counting on us to properly outfit them, so that they could do their jobs – their incredibly dangerous jobs – properly.

(Forest Service Firefighters – I could only wish I was that cool.)

I happily looked forward to work each day because I loved the people I worked with.  It was amazing how quickly the seasonal employees banded together and became a real crew, working together and watching out for each other.  We reminded each other to take frequent drinks of water.  If we saw someone struggling with a piece of heavy equipment we rushed to assist – and gently chided them for attempting something alone that should have been a two man job.  We ate lunch together every day and spent our breaks together, laughing and sharing stories from our personal lives.  Nicknames were handed out and friendly teasing happened regularly.  Sometimes the talk got salty, but it was never mean spirited or offensive.  The Fire Cache crew quickly became my “work family.”

Even so, I was still taken completely by surprise one day when I arrived at work and opened my locker.  Inside I found an envelope with my name on it.  It contained a note that complimented me and encouraged me on my abilities as a parent.  It also contained $50 – a small fortune to me at that time. I was as thrilled with the note that praised me for my efforts as a single mom, as I was with the unexpected monetary windfall.  I was both happy and humbled.  A lump filled my throat and I fought back tears.

There was no signature on the note.  I never discovered who my mystery benefactor was, despite my attempts to find them and thank them.  To this day, I still don’t know who looked at me – a young, single mother struggling to make ends meet – and decided to help.  Almost every person on that crew needed money or encouragement at least as much or more than I did.  I realized that whoever gifted me, most likely did so at their own personal expense.  They had chosen to go without, so that I might be blessed.

Nothing like that had ever happened to me before.  It surprised me that someone – a person I had only met a few months before – would even think to do that for me.

I think of those crazy summer days now and again – the heat, the work, the ever present aroma of smoke and sweat, but what I remember the most is the camaraderie.  I remember that rag tag crew – teachers working through their summer vacation, seasonal laborers, forest service regulars, college students, retirees and single moms – and how we seemed so different from each other in June and how we all knew each other so well by August’s end.  I have forgotten some names, but remember their faces.

But mostly, I remember the lump in my throat when I read that note, and I smile.

I asked my friend Ashleigh to share some thoughts on a rather personal and painful topic. Having never lived through the pain of experiencing a miscarriage myself, I have only been able to sympathize with many of my friends who have endured such a tragic ordeal. I have read this story many times in preparation to share it with you, yet I am still struck by the honesty, the courage, and the vulnerability of my dear friend who has allowed us a glimpse into her family’s past and how they have grieved in the wake of great loss. It is through tears that I invite you to relive the memory with her.

Colorado Springs. It’s the place I birthed two of my five babies and buried one.

The one we buried, we named her Noah.

News of her death came at my 10-week OB appointment. I woke up that fateful Wednesday to the thought, “Today your life is going to change.” Two hours later, it did. A doppler failed to detect a heartbeat; an ultrasound revealed a body much smaller than my due date required. The doctor estimated she had stopped growing at five weeks gestation.

For five weeks — 35 days — I was unaware that I was a walking tomb. I avoided caffeine, exercised with care, and jotted down lists of potential baby names, not knowing her tiny body had ceased to grow within mine.

A week after my D&C, a friend asked my husband Ted, “How’s Ashleigh doing? Is she getting over it?”

I wasn’t.

Life felt as if it played out in a bad dream; a nightmare from which I longed to wake up. I wept, paced, and had to force myself to climb out of bed and to eat. At times, anger overwhelmed me.

And then I hit resigned.

Resigned was worse than numbness; worse than a pillow wet with tears. It was the acceptance that this was just the way it was and there was nothing I could do to change it. It was realizing that we wouldn’t have a baby on or near my husband Ted’s birthday, and that when Christmas came, one smiling kid would be missing from our card. It was a place where the comfort of weeping came to me less often.

Less than a year after, we packed our belongings into a long, yellow truck. We buckled our kids into their car seats and said goodbye to Colorado.

But today, I find myself back to visit family. To be – if only for a couple weeks — in the place I lived and joyed and mourned. And there’s one spot I find myself reluctant to venture: the cemetery.

Many babies who die through miscarriage aren’t given a physical resting place on earth. We were fortunate that the hospital I had my D&C at holds firmly to the sanctity of life. As a result, we were given options on what would happen to Noah’s body after my D&C. We chose to have her tiny frame buried in a community memorial alongside other preborn babies who have died. This service was offered to us at no charge; a gift from a local Catholic diocese.

I’ve never been one to run from grief. But three years later, I feel the want – or perhaps even the need — to avoid it. Not to engage the pain that sometimes still feels so fresh.

Perhaps my first visits haunt me more than I realize.

It was marked by deep sorrow, tears, and the longing to lay my body prostrate on the fresh dirt and weep. I mourned the physical body I’d never get to nurture.

It was a surreal experience. One that left me reluctant then to leave. As a mom I’d been taught to never leave my babies alone. I felt like I was abandoning her, in the ground, unprotected and left to the elements. It went against everything my mother’s heart felt was right. Ted had to remind me, “She’s not really there, Ashleigh. She’s not there. It’s OK to leave.”

Yet as I remind myself that I’ll regret not visiting once I’m back in Hotlanta, I think back to my second visit. I determined it would be different.

As the sun emerged and the grayness of the day lifted, we approached the grave marker. There, Ted read Psalm 34. We both cried as he spoke aloud the words in verse 8, “Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!” Through my tears, I whispered, “Yes, Lord, You are good.”

My tears of sorrow intermingled with exclamations of praise to the One who promises that, though memory of Noah may fade for many, He will never forget. Her spirit is alive and well in the presence of a strong, tender, compassionate Savior. While my arms may not hold her, His do.

Colorado Springs. It’s the place I birthed two of my five babies and buried one.

The one we buried, we named her Noah.

You can connect with Ashleigh on her blog or at Ungrind. You can also follow her on Twitter @ashslater.

” How do geese know when to fly to the sun? Who tells them the seasons? How do we, humans know when it is time to move on? As with the migrant birds, so surely with us, there is a voice within if we would only listen to it, that tells us certainly when to go forth into the unknown. ” ~ Elizabeth Kubler -Ross

A local friend of mine told me the other day that he’ll be moving at the end of the month. He is leaving Cornwall to be closer to the family he has left. Having been born in Cornwall, he is what you don’t often meet here, a true Cornishman. His words are of those of acceptance, but they are tinged with a sadness that I can almost feel.

We have talked at length about Lanhydrock, a place very familiar to him and his lively stories have made a place already special to me, even more memorable.

Last week John and I walked into Lanhydrock from a new direction. We parked at Respryn Bridge and wandered down a long tree-lined road that once welcomed carts and carriages and the first automobiles. I thought of my friend as we enjoyed the fresh beauty of our long-awaited spring weather. The sun came and went as we walked with dark clouds shadowing us at points along the way before retreating without even a drop of the rain I thought might come.

After hearing me talk about distance running not long after we met, my Cornish friend shared a bit about his running days … telling me of a time when his feet knew the way to all the best paths around Lanhydrock. It will be impossible not to think of him on days like the one we had even though his season of running has passed and his time in Cornwall is at an end.

I imagine I will see him there from time to time in my mind when the weather shifts as it did with us. I’ll think what a fine day and suddenly he will be there, on the path in his running shoes with no need for walking sticks … moving easily in a place between the past and the future.

Safe travels, my friend.

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

Lady Blaze ~ Like the phoenix rises through the ashes, I rise up through the pain.

Monday 20 May 2013: 6 years 8 months on …

Game ED

I haven’t written for a while – not because I’m too ill but because I just haven’t had time! I’m flying high and living life in the fast lane!

Today is Sean’s 21^st birthday! Another milestone in his and our lives and one which 6 years and eight months ago I never thought I would see.

Yes, today we celebrate 21 happy years of Sean’s life. As I said to him this morning, he has brightened all our lives and the world is richer for having him in it. I pray that God may spare us all to share many more happy years together. He teaches me so much about life and how one should handle its challenges and its ups and downs.

We are so proud of you, Son, and wish you a challenging, rewarding and trouble-free journey. May the Jeeps and Journeys of life carry you safely through to the other side and may the 4×4’s, the diff locks, the GPS’s and all the other gadgets help you when the going gets tough:  Life is never an easy ride – not for anyone and not for sissy’s!

Legally, you are now out there on your own, but remember, we are always here to provide you with a safe harbour and love and affection. There will always be food on the table – hopefully, we will see you more often than that!

Congratulations and God speed!

Sean will have a party later when his friends are in town – tonight we will celebrate in Lunnon family tradition by going out for supper at The Coachman!

It’s also the end of a very busy two weeks for me!

I will try and highlight the last two weeks and pencil in the flesh later:

Mon 6 May – returned from Baviaanskloof

Tue 7 May – MND Meeting: Laughter, the best medicine; braai at VP Tennis Club with Gordon Kotze and friends

Wed 8 May – AlgoaFM, Selley Concert, start of Grey Reunion at Old Grey Club

Thu 9 May – Old Greys’ Dinner

Fri 10 May – School Assembly, Lunch in the long room with class of 1988, Parade, Supper at Arkenstone (Class of ’88), flight to Cape Town, 40 year Birthday Celebrations at Helshoogte Stellenbosch until 3h00

Sat 11 May – Breakfast at Res, wine-tasting at Blaauwklippen, Dinner at In the Vine, Somerset West

Sun 12 May – Mothers Day: Church and brunch at res, to Durbanville (Wusts)

Mon 13 May – Tygerberg Hospital, Lunch at Tygervalley with Louis VII and Corne, Paarl (Engelbrechts – Rodeberg Lodge), Taal Monument, Paarl Rock

Tue 14 May – Coastal tour to Hermanus, lunch with Noel and Spekkies, back to Paarl via Villiersdorp and Franschoek

Wed 15 May – Via Stellenbosch to Strand (Van Jaarsvelds), Beach, Ridgways

Thu 16 May – Cape Town, Aunty Pat, Vergelegen (Deon Adriaanse)

Fri 17 May – Lunch Stellenbosch (Katz), Uncle Eric, Karen H and Sonja VR, Koshuis rugby,

Sat 18 May – Aunty Doreen and Uncle Peter (Gordons Bay), Lourensford (Andre, Willem, Gretel), Supper (Irene and Pieter)

Sun 19 May – return to Port Elizabeth (plane delayed with flat wheel)

Mon 20 May – Sean’s birthday and recovery time

MONDAY 20 MAY – DEVESTATING TORNADO IN MOORE, OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLAHOMA

State song and Anthem

Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain,

And the wavin’ wheat can sure smell sweet

When the wind comes right behind the rain.

Oklahoma, ev’ry night my honey lamb and I

Sit alone and talk and watch a hawk makin’ lazy circles in the sky.

We know we belong to the land

And the land we belong to is grand!

And when we say – Yeeow] A-yip-i-o-ee ay!

We’re only sayin’ You’re doin’ fine, Oklahoma! Oklahoma – O.K.

Things are moving so quickly and yet so slowly. There’s that horrible feeling where you’ve done all the packing and preparation you can without packing and preparing things you will need up to the move. I know the day before is going to be a mayhem of work. There is so much stuff used on a daily basis that needs to wait for the night before. It makes me so tense thinking there is all this needing done yet I am forced to be seemingly unorganised and leave it to the last minute. It’s even crazier if you add to this the management of four cats, two fish tanks and…

… I’m sure there was someone else…

…ah yes! Surf Dude!

Surf Dude Let’s Make Some Waves TShirt – Next

It’s funny with babies, how they adapt their possessions to fit their needs. I’d advise never to throw out a toy because they have lost interest.

Case in point – what used to be a snoozy buzy chair, becomes a climbing frame in six short months.

Cheeky little daredevil. This guy climbs everything now. He thinks nothing is off limits.

Yes, I’m that Mum that let’s her son climb dangerously on chairs at 9 months old.

Don’t worry, he was supervised. However, keeping Sandy from doing things like this is pointless; and not letting him do it is even more daft. The more you say no, and stop or distract him the more he wants it. I don’t want to be one of those Mums who say no constantly and ends up with a bored and resentful child. I’d much rather let him do whatever he wants (within reason) and let him tire of it, keeping a close eye on him of course!

WE HAVE HAIR! He still had more when he was born but look, it’s there. And FYI he’s blonde. Disagree? We’ll see in two years time.

There’s been some sun the past two days. There was me complaining to a friend about the poor weather until she says by the way you’ve got 22 degrees and sun forecast for tomorrow. Indeed.

We’ve had to suncream up these little milky-white limbs. Luckily he has my skin tone and not Daddy’s. Stuart burns so quickly, once on holiday he had a burnt back with hand prints of white where he tried to put the suncream on.

Does it get any more angelic than this?

Now that he’s bigger there is something so adorable about him bobbing about in just a vest. Maybe the chubby legs.

Definitely the chubby legs.

So Stuart is away for a few nights. He only let me know last minute that this was happening. I guess it’s ok. I don’t want to be one of those people that can’t live without the other there everyday. I have never wanted that; yet somehow I’ve got it, and I love it. Is that just a sign that we are indeed two perfectly fitting jigsaw pieces, or are we merely needy creatures of habit? Either way, it’s odd getting away from routine.

However there is something empowering about being in sole charge of so much life.

Yesterday was full of doing two things at once, planning the next and preparing for more. Cats to be fed and kept out Sandy’s room whilst the milk heats and his nappy gets changed. Putting him down and locking up, finding some dinner and having a bath without running the water. It does feel good when you work hard and things start to flow as a consequence.

And when you end up with a boy who sleeps through and greets you in the morning rested and smiling with cuddles it’s worth it.

He loves his kitties

Rainbow Sleepsuit – Miniclub, Boots

It’s only 11 days until we move. I can’t believe it. I’m in limbo. The homeliness of this house is being slowly stripped away. With every box that piles and item which moves the static quality of the home is being disturbed. Things are moving but not far. Some things seem a bit pointless, like cleaning well, or putting out flowers, or cooking. I can’t access my things and I can’t care if Sandy is sick on the carpet. The windows are thick with the stuck on dust of the city; but they will remain that way. It’s like I’m conserving energy and creativity for the new place.

I feel like the time really is right now. Things have evened out somewhat. Sandy’s at the right stage and so is my sanity.

In hindsight I am quite glad we didn’t move before Sandy was born. It was nice to bring him home here, it makes the place more special. Memories of the first morning after we got home from hospital and he was lying in his basket and the sun was breaking in behind the blinds and my husband was sleeping next to me. And it was so hot those first days and bagpipes echoed around from open windows spreading in warm, late summer breezes to my new baby. Baby boy balloons dancing, flowers everywhere. It’ll never be forgotten.

And indeed, it was good to be so central, public transport at my feet and people, so many people. People to admire and help and visit. People whose anonymous presence made all of this just that little less daunting. No, they didn’t care for me and no I didn’t know them, but sometimes it’s just a comfort to know that there is other life so close, even if you don’t want to interact with it.

It’s time to move now though. We are all ready. Last night I was trying to sleep and the girl next door was blaring bass music. Then it stopped and I relaxed and our troublesome neighbours chapped the door. I didn’t answer. And it was too hot but too noisy to keep the window open. I counted the remaining nights and dreamed on the first new one. A night of silence and solitude and stillness. I’ll breathe it in greedily.

And this guy? I’m sure if he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait either.

Shirt – Primark; Shorts and hat – H&M

Doctor Who is 50 years old this year, its back catalogue include not only the TV Shows and a couple of dodgy movies but also books, comic, Radio plays, in fact for nearly a third of its existence it was absent from the screens.

Now there will of course be episode reviews but more than that I want to examine why it manages to keep going and gaining increasing popularity.  I will be looking at some of the ideas behind the storylines, looking at what has worked and what has been held up for scorn (oh yes Who fans are as scathing with their criticism as they are devoted to the show)  There will be some who will say but this is a writing blog why look at a TV series but lets be honest how many authors could write a series lasting this long without it getting tired and lets not forget writers such as Neil Gaiman have put pen to paper in its name.

From a personal viewpoint I will also be discussing how my young son reacts to stories as well after all this is a family show and examining the extra’s that come on DVD’s (though this will be as we get them as we only have a couple at the minute).

I decided to do the intro post today as I am still trying to work out how I discuss Saturdays show without spoilers (and sobbing into my computer) so I will share this for now which those on my Facebook will have seen already (sorry) I am just loving this song and the story but this ends with the end of series 6 so has no spoilers for this series….

Also a taster of one of the Extras from the DVD the monster got for his birthday

Here is the dilemma, there is a temporary restraining order in effect, so if Rose attends any of the events I will have to leave. I will be so upset if she does in fact show up. Rose has not done one damn thing to help Alyssa with her schooling. She didn’t even know where she went to school until about a month ago. I have worked with Alyssa every single night with her school work, came up with our own games for her reading words, I purchased a giant sized wipe board to illustrate things on,  I have built power point presentations to help her learn what she has needed to, I have download special fonts with the solid lines on top and bottom and a dashed line down the middle to help her to learn how to form her letters correctly, I have attended most school functions, took her to skating parties, met her at school for “lunch dates”, built games, built projects, and darn near stood on my head to help her learn what she needed to. I will be so upset if Rose gets to see her graduation and I do not. Now, it is actually my parenting time, so my evil mind already thought about taking Alyssa with me if I have to leave. F$#k Rose, If I don’t get to see her graduate, neither does she. However, this father thing kicks in and I cannot and would not ever do that to Alyssa. So I will once again have to suck it up and walk away being the bigger person. I want to be completely honest, I am tired of being the bigger person. I do it each and every time because I love my daughter, but I just want really bad to be able to be a jerk about something and do to then as they have done unto me… But I won’t, because I can’t, I love Alyssa and that is the power behind me doing the right thing. It’s just hard sometimes because I’m not used to doing the right thing.

As I write this, I am getting this feeling that I do not have to worry about it. God had it taken care of already. I’m not exactly sure how he has it worked out, but I just get a strong feeling that I shouldn’t stress.

You know, I’m not sure if I have posted about his yet, but as a father I just have to talk about my little girl. They did some end of the year testing and here are her scores;

LNF – Letter Naming Fluency

Needed to pass – 51
Alyssa scored – 61

PSF – Phoneme Segmentation Fluency

Needed to pass – 40
Alyssa Scored – 62

NWF – Nonsense Word Fluecy

Needed to pass – 28
Alyssa’s score – 58

Composite Score

End of the year benchmark – 119
Alyssa’s Score – 181
 

What makes this even more impressive is that Alyssa is early admission into kindergarten. She was not supposed to start until next year. I had planned this since she was little. I enrolled her early in a preschool at Pueblo Christian Academy. I then took her down to the district office to be tested so she could be enrolled in kindergarten. I remember when she tested for that, her scores where so high, they just looked at me and said yeah, no problem she can enroll in kindergarten, we do not anticipate that she will have any problems.

You see it’s all pretty simple. I just love my little girl with all my heart and want her to have the best possible chance at being happy in life. I learned things a little late, but the truth is, you really can become anything you want to in life. And you know what, my little girl will. She will become exactly what she wants to be, whether it be a doctor, lawyer. Fire fighter, or the darn president of the U.S., I know my little girl will become exactly what she wants to be, and be happy.

Maybe it might be a good thing if I’m not at the graduation. Alyssa’s teacher has already commented to her that she knows I will be crying up a storm… I get a little choked up tying about her, can you imagine at the graduation. Oh my, what am I going to do..

For more information about this event please click on the photo.

Sonja driving was fantastic, if only for drunken trips home from many karaoke nights.  Andy would come down and we would have fun at one or several karaoke places and then Sonja would drive us home.  I would normally fall asleep and infact was left in the back of the car for an hour or so once!

Sonja often used to drive a little too fast and told me how she once drove to Exeter, down Telegraph Hill, and suddenly realised she was doing around 100mph.  She was enjoying the speed up until the point she realised how fast she was going.  Her sense of direction wasn’t too bad but on at least one occasion she had to drive all the way the Granada Services and come off because she got a bit carried away with the brum-brum and missed 2 turnings!!

Sonja also had a knack of changing gear and pulling the gear knob off for some reason!