I’m kinda adoring this. Simple to make and practical in every way. What is there not to love?

Check out the vid on Youtube!

This one’s super cool, too. And, let me just affirm that duct tape is surprisingly effective at creating smooth and pretty chic surfaces. So never fear, go on…make your bag.

Check out the vid on Youtube!

via: kicksonfire

This is a really cute clay cake making kit. A clay is light weight and called “fuwa fuwa mousse”. “Fuwa fuwa” means soft like a cloud.

There are…

Cake cutter (making circle and square shapes)
Decoration tray (making fruits and decorations on cake)
Yellow, pink and blue clay
Decoration clay (cream on cake)

How to make…

***********cake and ice cream molds

1-You coat the molds with vegetable oil using cloth (recomended by the company).

2-Fill the molds with the clay. Press the clay firmly. Using a rolling pin, flatten the clay. Then, please remove any excess clay with a knife.

3-Pop out of the tray using both hands by pushing little by little (please look at the pictures on the instuction page which is included). If you push to much you will change the shape. After please put somewhere safe to dry.

***********There is a instruction included to follow easily.
(Even though it is written in Japanese, it has pictures to follow.)

Please note it takes about 2 days to dry.

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=37195177

This is a really cute clay cake making kit. A clay is light weight and called “fuwa fuwa mousse”. “Fuwa fuwa” means soft like a cloud.

There are…

Cake cutter (making circle and square shapes)
Decoration tray (making fruits and decorations on cake)
Yellow, pink and blue clay
Decoration clay (cream on cake)

How to make…

***********cake and ice cream molds

1-You coat the molds with vegetable oil using cloth (recomended by the company).

2-Fill the molds with the clay. Press the clay firmly. Using a rolling pin, flatten the clay. Then, please remove any excess clay with a knife.

3-Pop out of the tray using both hands by pushing little by little (please look at the pictures on the instuction page which is included). If you push to much you will change the shape. After please put somewhere safe to dry.

***********There is a instruction included to follow easily.
(Even though it is written in Japanese, it has pictures to follow.)

Please note it takes about 2 days to dry.

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=37195177

Hey there Girly Girls!! It’s Friday and you know what that means?  Well, of course you do.  And since the holiday season full of dreaded mother in laws, trees full of cat toys, and presents that need rocket scientists to assemble is right around the corner I thought I would entertain you all with a little holiday favorite of mine.

Twas the Night before Erikasbuddy

Twas the night before the 24 hour “A Christmas Story” marathon, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a computer mouse
The leathers were hung and ready to wear
And I had high hopes of maybe breaking in our new reclining armchair

The 12 year old was nestled all slung out in bed
While visions of Meagan Fox pole danced in his head
And Papa with his handcuffs and I with my strap
Had just changed positions from the front to the back

When out in the yard I heard something shatter
I sprang off the hubz to investigate this strange matter
Away to the window I ran like a cat
Lifted the mini blinds up while the hubz checked out my luscious firm rack

The moon showed a man who was gorgeous and lean
I drooled like a cougar and stared at the bulge in his jeans
He was simply delicious and I must say
His sparkly skin made me need an ashtray

His bronze hair was unruly, so splendid and thick
He was so scrum-yum-cious and I wanted a lick
His bad boy image screamed “Rawr” and I lusted to tame
But instead I just whistled and catcalled and called him some names

Hey Gorgeous!  Hey Beefcake! Hey Hunky and Yummy!
Come here my young pet.  Come to Erikasbuddy!
I pulled on my robe and reached for my strap
Then I whispered to my husband, “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be right back”

I raced down the steps and to my front door
With fantasies of blindfolds, paddles, and more
The door was ajar and my heart went zoom zoom
For a mouthwatering boy stood in my living room

He was dressed all in denim with a white ‘tee  underneath
He gave a quick stretch and flashed me  -Omg Yowza!- black boxer briefs
He seemed to be taunting, arousing, brooding, and haughty
I flashed him my corset to show I could be just as naughty

Good grief, he was dazzling, seductive, and enchanting
And licking his lips, I soon needed new panties
He smelled just like vanilla, chocolate, and lemons
His crooked smile kept on revving my engine

He let out a moan and I thought I might die
He whispered “Come hither” and patted his thigh
He cornered me roughly, pushed flush with the wall
He let out a growl, I let out a groan

Then tucking my hair behind my left ear
His teeth grazed my earlobe and I shivered with fear
He kissed my arched eyebrow, then do you know what he said?
Merry Christmas my Kittens and Cougars now go back up to bed!!

There it is. HURTS LIKE HELL!!!

I pierced my hip yesterday.  I was bored in the afternoon and I tried to do my ear again, but it didn’t work out so well.  This is the second body piercing I’ve done myself (the first was my nose ring) and I am really afraid that it’s gonna rip out.  I believe I already ripped it a little…  I had a ring to put through the hole after, but it went MIA.  There’s a safety pin in my hip.  My dad saw it and asked about it.  I told him that it was in my pants.  I guessed he believed me.  Everyone at school was all “ew, why would you do that?” and I was all “it’s called a fucking surface piercing”.  If it heals, I’ m going to do two more on that side and three on the other.  Wish me luck!

I performed in the winter concert today.  I’m in chorus.  We were forced to wear these sequin scarves that totally irritated my neck.  And then there were the heels.  I was running around without shoes on any chance I got.  Of course, I love my slutty strappy heels, but they are a bitch.

As you’ve noticed, if you’re nice enough to visit my home page, I am now supporting To Write Love On Her Arms.  Please be a nice little cookie and take the time to fill out some questions to help people suffering with depression and addiction.  You don’t have to give out any personal information and you don’t have to give anyone money.  Just answer a couple questions.  (You’ll do it if you love me!)~♥

Victorian Brass Hinge

Hinges vary in size, shape and purpose and a hinge that is suitable for one application may not be appropriate for another (i.e., a door hinge on a small cabinet). Some of the main types of hinges include butt/mortise hinges, continuous hinges, butterfly hinges, strap hinges, H hinges and HL hinges. These can be constructed out of a variety of materials but iron and brass have been the most popular materials because of their strength and durability.

Butt /mortise hinges are traditionally used in sets of three or four and are directly mortised into the door and the frame. Continuous hinges run the entire length of the door (these are sometimes referred to as piano hinges). Butterfly hinges have been in use since the 17th century and although can be used on everything from large doors to small jewelry boxes, they are traditionally used more for their aesthetic qualities over practical function. Strap hinges are larger hinges that are used for supporting wide doors (can be used on cabinets or full sized doors). H and HL hinges and used for flush mounted doors (an HL hinge can provide additional support for large/heavier doors).

If you are replacing older hinges, use the current size and quantity of hinges on your doors as a guide for replacements. The number of hinges varies from door to door sometimes (although traditionally most standard cabinets use two and most standard doors use three) so do not use less hinges than what are currently used. Look for solid brass or iron construction to ensure high quality and be sure to ask questions. LookInTheAttic & Company offers a wide variety of hinges in several styles and finishes and they offer free design assistance and help.

Buy Cheap Head Harness Strap Neck Muscle Harness LEATHER

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APT’s Full Leather Weight Lifting Head Harness The neck muscle is the fastest growing muscle in the body Thicken your neck and look bigger and stronger!! Fully adjustable, padded and built to last APT’s Full Leather Head Harness for weight lifting The neck is the fastest growing muscle in the body, most lifters forget about the neck, but it is so easy to built a nice thick neck mucle. The harness is easy to use: hook weight to chain, put on head harness and lift the weight with your head and neck as follows: Up and down, back and forth, side to side. Be careful and start easy and work your way up Watch your neck swell up bigger to give you a tough strong neck for strength, looks and to help prevent injuries. Full leather design is tough and built to last. Neck harness, This is a good basic neck exercise. The harness is best used for the back and the front of the neck. The harness is a webbing or leather cap that fits snugly on your head, and has a chain on each side hanging down from the ear region. You load weight plates on the chains, and then move your head against the resistance created. For this exercise it is a good idea to use lighter weights and higher reps (i.e. 15+ per set). You stand with hands on knees to work the back of the neck. Look at the floor with the weights hanging in front of you. By flexing your neck, you raise your head to look forward, and then slowly lower your head to complete the rep. To work the front of the neck you can lye down on a bench with your head and neck out over the end of the bench. Have a training partner spot you and help you get the harness and weights in place. Flex your neck forward and try to touch your chin to your chest and slowly lower your head to complete the rep. You can also hold a weight plate against your forehead and perform this movement……..
Readmore

Technical Details

– Professional Grade Leather
– Heavy Duty Built
– Neck is the fastest growing muscle
– Grow the neck and increase your other lifts
– Adjustable chain
See more technical details

 “Great Product” 2009-09-05
By Kainoz Direct
The neck harness is really well made, good strong stitching. I have a little head so it slips around a little bit but with a beanie on and weight on the chains it stays in place pretty well. and you want to wear a beanie anyway because the leather will rub against your ears. The weight plates i’ve been using have the small holes and the chain fits through just fine.

It’s amazing how strengthening my neck has helped all my other lifting. My bench press has jumped by 20 kg. Also you want to start with light weights and as you add heavier weights make sure to stay in the 12-20 rep range or you can injure your neck.

Overall a Great Product!!!

 “weird marks” 2008-04-07
By V
The description says new but it came with some odd marks that looked a little dirty but overall it was okay. The dirt/marks were probably from poor storage and handling at the warehouse or something.

 “4 stars for quality, -1 for comfort.” 2007-01-04
By W. Reichenbach (San Diego, California United States)
Good quality construction, don’t see this one falling apart like my old nylon one. Although that being said my old nylon one was a lot more comfortable and didn’t rub my head/ears raw like this leather one does. I use with a towel and that seems to help. I wish a little more thought about comfort was taken into consideration though.

4 stars for quality, -1 for comfort.

Images Product

Buy Head Harness Strap Neck Muscle Harness LEATHER Now

(New York, December 11)

A United Nations General Assembly panel that met this week broke new ground and helped build new momentum for ending human rights violations based on sexual orientation and gender identity, a coalition of sponsoring nongovernmental organizations said today.

The meeting included discussion of discriminatory and draconian “anti-homosexuality legislation” currently before the Ugandan parliament, and of the role of American religious groups in promoting that bill and homophobia across Africa. In a groundbreaking move, a representative of the Holy See in the audience read a statement strongly condemning the criminalization of homosexual conduct.

The panel, held yesterday on the 61st anniversary of the adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, featured speakers from Honduras, India, the Philippines, and Zambia, as well as Uganda, where the proposed “anti-homosexuality law” shows the steady threat of government repression.

Sweden organized the panel in coalition with Argentina, Brazil, Croatia, France, the Netherlands, and Norway. It was sponsored by a group of six nongovernmental organizations that defend the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people. The audience of 200 people included delegates from over 50 nations.

The statement from the Holy See said it “opposes all forms of violence and unjust discrimination against homosexual persons, including discriminatory penal legislation which undermines the inherent dignity of the human person. … [T]he murder and abuse of homosexual persons are to be confronted on all levels, especially when such violence is perpetrated by the State.”

Ugandan lawmakers are currently debating the “anti-homosexuality bill.” While there were reports that the death penalty provisions might be stripped from the bill, other punishments would remain that would drive many Ugandans underground or out of the country, participants said.

Speaking on the panel, Victor Mukasa, cofounder of Sexual Minorities Uganda (SMUG) and program associate for the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (IGLRHC), described how he was forced to leave Uganda following police brutality and raids on his home. He said that Uganda’s “anti-homosexuality bill” reflects a pattern of state-sponsored homophobia spreading across the African continent.

“Lack of security, arbitrary arrests and detentions, violence, and killings of LGBT people have become the order of the day in Africa,” said Mukasa. “Nothing can change as long as LGBT people live in fear for their safety when they claim their basic human rights.”
Also at the panel discussion, the Reverend Kapya Kaoma, an Anglican priest from Zambia who is project director for Political Research Associates (PRA) in Massachusetts, presented the group’s new report, “Globalizing the Culture Wars: U.S. Conservatives, African Churches, and Homophobia.”

Kaoma said that many anti-LGBT attitudes across Africa are fueled by US groups actively exporting homophobia. He called on US religious figures who have been promoting hatred and fear of homosexuality in Africa to denounce the Uganda bill unequivocally and support the human rights of all people regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity. Citing their moral responsibility to prevent violence, he also urged them to make such declarations in Africa, not just before US audiences.

Other panelists highlighted governments’ complicity in prejudice and violence based on sexual orientation and gender identity.
Indyra Mendoza Aguilar, coordinator of the Lésbica Feminista Cattrachas network in Honduras said that an atmosphere of impunity since the June coup in Honduras has meant spreading violence against already marginalized people.

“In Honduras, as in many countries, the state turns a blind eye to violence against our communities,” said Mendoza Aguilar. “Today we issue a call for reforming our societies, free of discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity, and free of impunity.”
Vivek Divan, an Indian attorney and member of the team that led a successful legal challenge to India’s colonial-era sodomy law, described the provision’s insidious effects: promoting inequality, excusing violence, and permitting state intrusion into private lives.

The Delhi High Court overturned the law this year in a landmark decision affirming diversity as a core value of the Indian state.
Speakers also stressed how torture, killings, and other grave abuses target people not just because of their sexuality, but because they look, dress, or act in ways that defy deeply rooted patriarchal norms for expressing masculinity and femininity.

“Now is the time to realize that diversity does not diminish our humanity,” said Sass Sasot, cofounder of the Society of Transsexual Women of the Philippines (STRAP). “You want to be born, to live, and die with dignity – so do we! You want to live with authenticity – so do we!”

Contacts:
For the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission, in New York,
Sara Perle (English, Italian): +1-212-430-6015, sperle@iglhrc.org

For Human Rights Watch, in New York,
Scott Long (English): +1-212-216-1297; or +1-646-641-5655 (mobile)

For Global Advocates for Trans Equality, in New York,
Justus Eisfeld (English, Dutch): +1-646-341-1699, justus.eisfeld@globaltransadvocates.org

For COC Netherlands, in Amsterdam,
Björn van Roozendaal(English, Dutch): +31-619-123-2257 (mobile)

For Arc International, in Geneva,
John Fisher (English, French, Spanish): +41-22-733-4705

Available on oki-ni.com, the COTE et CIEL Rusksack has a unique design to hold all your travel essentials. It features ergonomic shoulder straps, a laptop compartment, and a bevy of other compartments and pockets. Available for 15 inch laptops and 17 inch laptops in black or grey.

The next day the atmosphere in the house was charged. Shobha was dressed in her nightie with a thin veil upon it. Her hair was tied with a scarf and she had applied fresh body spray which had filled the room with fragrance.

Rahul coming down and seeing his mother’s attire was delighted. He hurried his steps and coming behind his mother he put his arms around her waist and nuzzled his head on her hair. Inhaling deeply the aroma he untied the scarf holding her hair before wishing her good morning.

Shobha stood still allowing her son to loosen her hair and when he was inhaling its fragrance she said ‘the breakfast is getting cold.’

Holding her by the waist, Rahul dragged his mother to the dining table and sat down. Shobha proceeded to feed him and as Rahul’s hands were free, he started to caress her waist. Shobha started enjoying his caresses and took her own time in feeding him.

Rahul then became adventurous. He slid his hand down over the left side of her buttocks and placed it over there. Shobha did not object to this. His hand then slid further down and came upon her rich thighs. He started to slide his fingers slightly over her thighs and when his mother did not object, he tried to push his hand further down between them.

Shobha suddenly pulled his hand away from her thighs. Rahul’s hand went back to her waist again. He knew there were some limitations and he continued fondling her waist with more vigor squeezing the soft rich curves of her waist. Shobha did not object to this and as she got up on feeding him she felt her son’s hands caress her voluptuous buttocks and this made her shiver.

As Rahul got up he playfully held his mother’s veil. Shobha turned around to face him. Rahul smiled at her and pulling out her veil he ran away from her before wiping his face and hands with it.

Shobha screamed obscenities at him and when Rahul threw the veil back at her after stepping out he heard her say ‘when come home, I will make you repent, you naughty fellow.’

Rahul came home early and when his mother enquired about his examinations he replied ‘it was easy and I only have two more to go.’

‘Go and change’ said his mother.

As Rahul came down his mother excused herself saying she had to visit their neighbors and will be back soon. Rahul after spending some time watching the TV went back to his room for studies. It was after quite some time when his mother came to his room. His mother had worn the same nightie which she had worn in the morning and she had discarded the veil.

Seeing her without the veil Rahul smiled at her and asked ‘why, what happened to your veil?’

‘There’s no point in wearing it’ she replied.

‘Why’ asked Rahul, as his mother sat next to him.

‘My son does not allow me to put it on,’ she replied.

‘Why, what does he do,’ asked Rahul moving closer to her.

‘He pulls it away from my body’ replied his mother.

‘But why,’ he again asked her as he put his arm around her waist?

‘I don’t know the reason, tell me if you know it,’ she replied.

‘I have a vague idea but before I tell you, promise you won’t scream at me’ he said.

‘No, I won’t scream at you, I promise’ she said smilingly.

‘Then come closer, I will put the words in your ear’ he said.

Shobha moving her ear to his face asked ‘Is this enough?’

As his mother brought her ear near his face, Rahul first tenderly nibbled her ear before speaking softly ‘I think he wants to see your br no che…’ First he wanted to say breasts then changed it over to chest.

‘Yes, what does he wants to see’ asked his mother moving closer.

‘I think he wants to see your chest’ he said and waited for her response silently.

On hearing it his mother was mildly surprised and she held back for a few seconds before replying ‘I think he should be reprimanded as he is becoming naughty.’

‘Yes, indeed’ he is becoming naughty. How do you intend to reprimand him’ asked Rahul embracing his mother?

‘Let him finish his exams, then I will see to it’ she said.

‘That means you don’t mind it’ he asked putting his arm across her waist and pulling her to him. ‘I did not say so’ she replied.

‘What’s wrong in allowing him to see’ said Rahul pecking kisses on her cheeks.

‘I have not decided about it’ she replied.

‘How long will you take to decide about it’ he said shuffling her hair with his hands.

‘Keep trying you may succeed’ shot back his mother.

Hearing those words Rahul was encouraged. Lifting his hands he held his mother by her head and drawing her face closer to his, he kissed her squarely on her lips.

Shobha sizzled as he felt his hot lips on hers. Unable to control anymore she drew his head and opening her mouth wide kissed him back. Rahul was enchanted by this and in a reflex action he pushed his tongue deep inside her mouth and embraced his mother’s body to his.

Shobha was stimulated by the passionate kiss and as Rahul drew her up to his body, she tamely succumbed to his ministrations. Her body was set on fire. Rahul feeling her body shivering started to caress her back and bringing his hand under her arms he moved it over the side of her breasts.

Shobha moaned hard when she felt her son’s hand trying to feel her breasts. She pressed her upper body to his completely, squashing her breasts over his chest. Rahul could no longer put his hand on her breasts. He placed his hands over her shoulders and pushing her back he trust one of his hand on her chest.

Shobha moaned louder. Her tongue slipped out and started to lick her son’s lips. Rahul felt possessed. He thrust his hand deep between his mother’s chest. His hand felt the opening of his mother’s nightie. His fingers started to fumble over her hooks and with great difficulty he managed to unhook two of them.

As the flaps of his mother’s nightie gave way, his fingers came in contact with the warm flesh of his mother’s bosom. This aroused him. He dug his hand deeper till he could feel the silkiness of his mother’s brassiere. This made his prick shot up.

Shobha’s body too was throbbing in the heat of the passion. She lifted her body for a second to allow her son’s hand to take possession of her breasts and as Rahul slid his hand over the cup of her bra, she shuddered and wet her panties.

Rahul too was on the verge of shooting and as his mother allowed access to his hands to cup her bra his pecker shot up and when he felt his mother’s body convulse in the heat of the passion he again jammed his lips on hers and cupping her breast over her bra he shot his load in his pants. (eXbi,2009)

*Jakarta Globe, 11 December 2008

In the far corner of a house in Cimanggis, 40 kilometers from Central Jakarta, a boy walks by, pushing an empty wheelchair.
His gait is rather strange, his legs twisted at odd angles. He walks carefully, relying more on the wheelchair than pushing it. The quietness is sporadically shattered by screams. Short and high in pitch, like a frustrated toddler grappling for words that refuse to form.
In its sprawling compound on the main road of Jalan Raya Bogor, Wisma Tuna Ganda houses 30 children and adults with various forms of cerebral palsy and autism.
Most have lived here since they were toddlers. Fifty percent are over the age of 30; the oldest is 40.
Kristanti, the deputy head of Wisma Tuna Ganda, explains: “We treat residents for a maximum of 20 years, but some stay longer because their families are hesitant to take them back or have abandoned them completely. Where else can they go? So they become our responsibility.”
In a bright room with open windows, residents sit on safety chairs playing with colorful sets of shapes.
Most stare emptily into space, saliva dribbling from their lips.
Rusdi, the only one with coherent speech, answers in a slurred voice when asked his age and the name of his father.
Blind, the 36-year-old holds a forefinger to his left ear whenever he speaks, as if straining to hear.
The institution does not provide residents with a formal education.
“It is enough to teach them how to interact, understand who they are, and daily survival skills like putting on clothes and feeding themselves,” Kristanti says.
A caretaker is teaching Icha, the youngest resident, how to play with blocks. She does not look like she was born with a defect. But she is autistic and has yet to walk or speak at 3 years of age.
“She responds to her own name,” says Kristanti with a smile, “which means at least she understands who she is.”
Polo shirts, T-shirts, shorts and pants hang in the garden in neat rows under the morning sun. A man sits at the end of the hall, his legs crossed, eyes closed, swishing his head from left to right. There is a big grin on his face. On approach, gray hairs can be seen on his head.
“Fikri is one of the older ones. He is mobile but blind,” says Kristanti as she rubs Fikri’s head. At times his hands flutter up, as if playing  an imaginary piano. “They live in their own world,” Kristanti adds.
Neat white tiles dominate the physiotherapy room where chaos reigns. The floor is littered with bodies, prone and writhing. Three caretakers in dusky pink uniforms heave a child up and strap her to a standing frame. To the left, two children hang on frames like forgotten puppets; their legs and arms bound to splints of padded steel to keep them from stiffening and bending. The children wear heavy orthopedic shoes so they will not develop flat feet or curling toes. They are strapped to boards with cloth straps, hands hanging limply above their heads. For an hour they rest that way to straighten their muscles and practice standing.

“At first, they were angry and would struggle against it,” says Rita Komala who has been a physiotherapist and caretaker for 11 years. “But now they have gotten used to it and some can fall asleep.”
The room is clean and the physiotherapy equipment new —a  noticeable difference from the past when there was an absence of generous donors. Prior to funding, treatment was not maximal due to the high cost of equipment for therapy.
“Shoes for preventing flat feet cost Rp 2 million,” comments Rita.
It is hard to tell the boys from the girls, or the men from the women. Everyone has short hair, cut off for convenience, and wears a T-shirt and pants. Their names are written in permanent marker on their clothing. Rizka, on the middle standing frame, flashes a big grin. She has sharp features, like a bird.
A commotion occurs in the middle of the floor. Ribs jutting out of his thin skin, a tall teenage boy is being undressed by caretakers. He has relieved himself in his pants and they are removing his adult pampers. They turn him over to powder him; his pelvic bones are visible.
One caretaker squeals upon seeing his erection. The 17-year-old’s pimply face remains expressionless. The caretakers laugh off the incident, quickly dressing him and strapping him to a chair. A napkin is placed under his chin like a bib.
“He leaks at both ends,” jokes a caretaker. “Like a tap,” says another.
A caretaker takes hold of another child and sits her down on a padded wooden seat. “They have to learn to sit,” says  Kristanti, “so their spines can be trained.”
“Susan,” she says pointing to a child with painfully thin and distorted limbs who is lying on her back, “cannot be trained to stand because her legs have become too spastic. If we force it, her legs will break.”

Lying stiff on the corner of a thin foam mattress, Vivi, in lollypop-pink stripes, blinks her large eyes and grunts. She wears splints, except on her right arm which was injured in a wheelchair accident.
“When Vivi was born, she was a healthy baby who had the chance to run and speak,” says Rita. She succumbed to cerebral palsy at 18 months.

Once everyone is strapped into standing positions, seated or stretched straight on the mat, the room falls quiet. Sounds from a soap opera blare from a television set. No one pays attention to it. The caretakers sit around the room and joke with one another.
Renni, who has regularly visited the home since 1993, comes bearing snacks. Renni went to physiotherapy school with Rita and is a freelancer now. She comes to volunteer for a few hours every week and says she feels something is missing when she does not.
“How are you, Ika?” she says as she high-fives Rizka, whose hands are tied above her head.
The 17-year-old beams beautifully, her mouth filed with sharp, black stumps that were once teeth. To her left, a plump girl grunts, laughs and shakes her head.
The caretakers crowd around Renni and eat her offerings.
“Rizka was so pretty when she was younger,” recounts Rennie. “But once she started menstruating, and through lack of care, her teeth have gone bad.”
Popping a peanut into her mouth, a caretaker speaks of Nano, who was left in a dumpster in Ancol, North Jakarta, when he was 5.
“He will always yell for food if he sees any,” she laughs. Nano is now 22.
“Many parents just leave them,” says Kristanti. “Some move houses without telling us their new address. Most never ask about their children. Sometimes when we feel a child needs their parents, we even pay for the parents to come here.”
An hour later more children are carried into the physiotherapy room. These are the ones who have finished their lessons next door. The caretakers busy themselves by massaging baby oil onto the atrophied limbs of the newcomers and joke with the children. Rizka and her two friends are released from their standing frames and left to roam the floor, their leg splints still attached. Little yelps and mini-screams are heard around the room. It is hard to tell whether the children are expressing pain, boredom or pleasure.
Rita and Rennie dote on Icha, their backs to Vivi in the corner. Vivi’s forehead turns lobster-red when she wails.
“Leave her, she is only seeking attention,” says Renni.

“Icha is cute so everyone hugs her and plays with her,” says a caretaker. “No one hugs Vivi.”

Vivi’s cries eventually brings a caretaker over to remove her splints. Once freed, her left arm bends inward and hardens. Her legs jerk shut. With emaciated limbs she resembles a sparrow with broken wings.
“They cannot move so their muscles athropy, their limbs getting smaller and smaller,” Renni explains.
Rizka, seeing the snacks near the mat, pulls her body along with her arms to take a crisp. She chews quietly. Crumbs fall.
Icha, the smallest, strapped to one of the standing boards, hangs like a cartoon character with her upright ponytail shooting out of the top of her head. Slightly cross-eyed she has a look of constant awe. She smiles and laughs at a caretaker who sits and dangles a camera phone in front of her.

Dani, an apple-cheeked girl with gorgeous dark eyes that disappear when she smiles, bangs her body against the standing frame next to Icha’s. Beside her, Putri, mouth agape, is silent and peers passively from behind her upright arms at the scene around her, slowly moving her head from left to right.
Rizka has another go at the snacks. She takes a few nuts then throws them on the floor.
“Leave it, she will eat them from there,” says a caretaker as Rizka picks a nut off the tile.
Buck-toothed and sporting blue socks featuring a superhero, Nanda is out of her shackles and is being trained to sit on a padded seat. She curls her head down and purrs in delight when someone rubs the back of her neck. After sitting for a while, she belches and throws up. A caretaker rushes over to clean her and rub minyak kayu putih, or cajuput oil, on her stomach.
“We’re going to lie you down on the floor, OK?” she says to Nanda.
Meanwhile, Dimas runs around the room creating havoc, pushing an empty standing frame and swinging the support straps. Physically he is in fine form but Dimas is autistic and cannot speak. He starts yelling and pulls people toward a hanging strap, wanting to play.
Lunchtime rolls around. All the children are taken off the standing frames and are left lying on the floor in various distorted positions as the caretakers prepare the food. Dani, effervescent, keeps laughing as a caretaker removes her splints. Vivi is spoon-fed on her back, her head propped up. The mashed up meal dribbles down her chin. Yellow and soft, her lunch also lands on her nose.
Putri sits upright beside her, solemnly flattening her rice before slowly bringing it to her mouth. A tiny dark-skinned girl by her feet stretches an arm toward her, eyeing her plate.
Dimas swoops in and steals her prawn cracker. Her reaction to catch him was too slow. She resumes her meal without a fuss.
On the opposite side of the room, Icha sneezes and looks surprised. Dani breaks out in laughter. Vivi, clean after her meal, suddenly throws open her sticks of arms, her huge eyes bulging toward the ceiling. She looks like a crucified child.
In the main house, the air is calmer and the atmosphere somber. Here lie the children too ill to move, in beds that have bars to prevent them from falling out. Above each bed is a wooden board listing each child’s name, birth date, origin, date of entry and ailments.
Tiffany, 6, is the frailest and the worst case. “Blind, spastic, mute, paralyzed,”  Kristanti reads.
In the dark, the whites of her wide eyes glow like sunken torchlights as a caretaker brings a spoonful of tomato soup to her mouth.
Yunas, 18, has been living at Wisma Tuna Ganda for 13 years. Although mute, he has full comprehension skills and responds with sign language and gestures. He often acts as a guide for visitors.
Upstairs, in the girls’ and women’s quarters, is Teresia. The T-shirt she is wearing says Dyna but Yunas knows it is her.
Aged and lined, with bony bent limbs curved like a meditating yogi, Teresia is the oldest resident. She arrived five years after the place opened in 1975. In the bed nearby, a girl squeals, happy to be playing with a handful of black pebbles.
There has only been one recorded case of adoption since the institution’s inception.
“It was in 1975 and a Dutch person adopted a boy. Of course, the child was active and could be independent,” Kristanti says. “No one would take a child who couldn’t move. It is too much hassle.”
Rare is the occasion when a child is taken back by their families. The fortunate few who are able to be productive are placed in other institutions to learn trade skills which are not provided here. But most residents die in the institution, often forgotten or abandoned by their families.
“An institution like this is not a place to break ties. A child has a right to be loved and cared for, here or at home,” Kristanti says. “But most people abandon their responsibility once they give their child over to us. Parents don’t realize they cannot forget their children.”

(Photos: Titania Veda)

NCS Preorder Synopsis
«©NCSX» When Domokun started out his little cottage- industry-career, he was beloved by many stateside fans even though he only appeared on Japanese television. You can thank the magic of the internet and streaming video for his early fame. Back then, Domokun products were gobbled up by crazed passionate buyers who all wanted a little piece of the lovable brown monster. Sorta reminds us of the power of Sackboy. As the years passed and Domokun grew older, NCS noticed that consumer apathy had crept in as the volumes of Domokun products increased.

Domokun’s brand had been diluted. Brown got watered down.

Eikoh’s been one perpetrator of Domo’s brand dilution and they perpetrate some more with a new collection of Domokun Straps. On the upper left portion of the top photo, Domokun portrays an afro-wearing maracas shaker but he changes to what we can only describe as a Buster on the upper-right corner of the photo. The other personas are a hand-fan-wielder and a sword-handler who appears droopy-eyed and unsteady. Preorders for the set of four Domokun Mascot Straps are welcome to ship in March 2010.

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 “Just What I expected” 2009-02-26
By S. Wilms (USA)
For the price, this is a good strap. I was afraid it would be cheap,but it has held up nicely. Comfortable and durable. A+

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Angela’s Story continues:

A few days later, as promised, David took me to task for playing dating games to make him jealous. Despite my still very sore bottom, I received a hearty spanking with a clothes brush that had me climbing the walls, or would have done if I could have broken free of David’s knee. Afterwards between sobs I made a genuine heartfelt apology and kissed the back of the brush that had so vigorously kissed my bottom. After David had assured himself that I had done all my work for the day, I was directed to the corner were I stood bare bottomed for the rest of the evening.

Making up was fun but it was almost a week before I could sit down again.

I did not mind of course, now that I had landed my man I was walking on air. But this was to prove a dangerous state of mind.

“You are going to have to stop mooning about and knuckle down or I’ll ground you for the rest of term and you will only see me at weekends.” He told me sternly one day.

Although I was dismayed at the prospect of not seeing him, I got a warm thrill from being scolded.

“Yes Sir I understand, if I do any mooning you will spank me.” I teased.

“I am serious.” He growled. “You have to do well in your next two essays.”

My next essay was so-so but not disastrous. After a thorough telling off, I got a respectable deck-shoe spanking on my still tender rear end and was made to stand at the sideboard to go over all my work and prepare for my last essay.

“Are you going to put me in the corner after I have done my work?” I pouted.

“Well you certainly deserve it, but as it is already late let’s see how you get on.” David smiled warmly but his tone was firm.

“Couldn’t I have a cuddle instead? I can do this tomorrow.” I wheedled.

“Let me see.” David moved menacingly closer pretending to ponder my suggestion. “If I don’t see some real progress over the next two hours I am not only going to bounce Mr Stick off your tail two dozen times and give you a thousand lines about slacking off, but you will spend what little spare time you have left this week in that corner. Is that clear enough for you?”

“That’s a no then?” I flipped him and got a tremendous whack on my behind for my trouble.

The rest of the night was relatively trouble free and we got to have some serious quality time and an early night.

Thanks to David’s firm motivation, I finished my last essay two days early and had time to show him.

“Not a bad effort I suppose. Not for someone who wants to work at Burger King for the rest of her life. What has got into you?” He was scolding me again.

My face fell and I was close to tears.

“Listen its not so bad really all the elements are there but you have to put them together better. The main trouble is that although you have obviously done all the reading you are not making any particular point. Ask yourself what conclusions do you draw and what is your central thesis?” He began to reassure me in the old David way.

I had another go and showed the result to him the next day. After he had read it, he was beaming and gave me a thumbs up.

“Someone deserves wining and dining.” He offered.

I was happy to accept.

Over dinner we talked about the rules of engagement so to speak. I kept getting excited and David had to shush me although it was my embarrassment he wanted to spare rather than his. I kept asking about spanking and drawing odd looks from the other diners.

After I insisted that he had to make the rules but that it wouldn’t hurt to let me in on some of them, he finally made a contribution to the conversation.

“Alright if that is the way you want it. I reserve the right to put you over my knee for any reason and at any time in private for my own amusement and to let you know who is boss.” He smirked letting the news sink in.

I squirmed in my seat and try to be horrified, but neither of us was fooled.

“If I have to reprimand you then I will administer a stiff spanking, usually with a slipper or something similar.” He continued, studying my reaction.

I blushed and chewed my lower lip trying to ignore the tingle in my belly.

“A moderate punishment will consist of a sound spanking with a slipper or brush over the knee anywhere and in front of anyone I deem suitable to render you suitably ashamed.” I opened my mouth to say something; I had never been spanked publicly before. He didn’t let me interrupt. “And we must not forget corner time that will always follow and may well proceed any righteous correction.”

“Then of course for more serious punishment there is the strap, the cane and I have been giving some consideration to birching and the Canadian Paddle Strap.” He was grinning evilly at me now.

“I think we both know that I am at your mercy Sir, but am I allowed to say one thing?” I asked at last.

“Naturally.” He conceded gracefully as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin like a man who had just dined well, I felt like it was me that had been on the menu.

“Ouch!”

That night I had my first erotic spanking. I had not thought before that David could enjoy just spanking me for no reason, but I was glad he did.

It was a gentle affair at first with slow steady love pats building up to an agreeable slow burn. What made it all the more agreeable was the fact that we were both naked. As I surrendered to his hand I felt him grow beneath me and I giggled.

“So this is funny is it?” he began to spank me harder.

“Ow, no.” I squealed. “I was just thinking that I am about to be punished with another kind of rod.”

“If you think it is punishment then I am doing it wrong.” He spanked me hard as I melted into him.

The next day I handed in my essay and went to the library to continue my revision. I couldn’t give it the attention it deserved because another problem was looming on the horizon, the Christmas holiday.

I had to surrender my room in halls for the break and that meant I was expected home. I wanted to stay with David but it was way too early to let my parents in on our relationship.

This and other things began to play on my mind. You would think I would happy. I had no worries; I had a man and my own private tutor to boot. But I always find something to worry about. With hindsight, it is not so surprising that my crisis should come about because of my old bete noir, my fear of exams.

On the day of my end of term exam I panicked and locked myself in the bathroom on my corridor. Fortunately the exam was in the afternoon so I had a chance to get over it, although all hope was fading fast.

I don’t know who or how they knew but someone, a friend on my corridor phoned David at school. Now it is not many head teachers at your average school who could or would be able to come across London to extract a silly girl from a bathroom, but at 11 there was a hammering on the bathroom door.

“Angela open the door.” It was David.

I slid back the bolt from the habit of obedience and stood there embarrassed and on the verge of tears. There was a small group of other students standing there with concerned looks on their faces. I wanted the ground to open up.

David gave them a look and a nod of the head and they dispersed.

“Thanks guys.” He called after them cheerily.

Then David bundled me into the bathroom and locked the door after us.

“What the hell is going on? Do you want me to lose my job? I can’t be here now.”

I got the telling off of my life and then David sat with me for 20 minutes and built me up. By the end I was laughing.

“OK get some lunch and go and get ‘em.” He smiled punching the air. “Anyway you have got more things to think about, when you come over tonight you and I are going to have a very long talk. I know someone who is not going to be sitting down for a long while.”

In the event my exam was fine. I later learned that I was just off getting a 2:1 and my grade average for the term was a high 2:2. I was never going to get a first so there was plenty of time to up my game a little. For now a 2:2 was more than enough to ensure my place at college for the next three years.

That was all in the future for now I had to face the music with David and I knew I was in very serious hot water. As I caught the bus to David’s house I had butterflies in my stomach and bottom seemed to tingle in anticipation.

When I arrived David was in the lounge. He didn’t look up when I entered the room.

“Sorry.” I said.

“How did it go?” He asked still without looking at me.

“It was OK I think I’ll be alright.” I replied sheepishly, I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. “David I am sorry. Really.”

“Not as sorry as you are going to be.” He growled.

“Yes Sir.”

He looked up and told me to go upstairs and change into my night things. I put my bag down and walked like a condemned woman to our room. I put on my short white baby-doll top. I knew David liked it and I intended it to make amends, not to distract him out of punishing me. It only just covered my bottom and if bent forward or even raised my arms then the target area was exposed to his wrath.

I went back down and stood meekly in the centre of the room biting my thumb. There on the coffee table was the clothes brush, Mr Stick and short leather strap that I had never seen before.

“Are you trying to seduce me into being lenient?” He barked.

“No Sir. I know I deserve it. I am sorry.” I whimpered my eyes did not leave the implements laid out before us.

“Go and stand in the corner with your hands on your head and think about what happens next.”

I almost ran and did as I was told.

As ever, corner time was intense but this time my mind could not help but dwell upon the implements on the table. Was he going to use them all on me?

I stood with my nose obediently at the point where the two walls me with my hands on my head for what seemed like forever. The act of raising my hands had elevated my short nighty exposing my bottom to both his gaze and a slight draft, which played across my nether cheeks.

However, there was no danger that I was going to get cold. One pair of cheeks was already blushing hot with shame the other pair were in holding pattern awaiting to get even hotter.

“Alright let’s get you ready for your first instalment.” David said at last.

I was led to the sofa and he put me across his knee. The brush was already in his hand.

“You know why your getting this don’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” I said. “I’m sorry Sir.”

Then the spanking began. I had not had much experience with the brush so far. It hurt worse than almost any other kind of spanking. It was certainly the loudest. The solid thwack rang back off the walls to sting my ears, although not as much as it stung my behind. Unlike with a slipper there is no gradual build up of sting. It does not slowly overwhelm your defences until you break it. It grabs your attention from the first and never lets go. It compels you to announce every spank until you are hoarse from competing with the noise of the impacts.

“I’m sorry, I sobbed, I’m sorry.” I repeated over and over like a mantra.

There comes a point early on in a spanking, if you are a person like me who needs spankings in your life, when you want to beg to be let off because it hurts so much but you don’t because you are genuinely afraid that the spanker will stop. And you don’t need that to happen yet.

Then there is the point when you want to beg but your own stubborn pride won’t let you and you begin to hope that he stop soon anyway.

Then there is the point where you really want to beg but you are afraid that you will anger the spanker by trying to get let off a spanking you so richly deserve and you will make the situation worse.

Then comes the point you don’t beg because you know it won’t do any good and if you do beg and he doesn’t stop then all semblance of control and all hope that you can stop it is gone.

Then you begin to beg anyway.

“Please stop I am sorry.” I sobbed. “I’m sorry, please.”

In hindsight, I would have been disappointed if he stopped then. He didn’t. He continued until he had extracted every last ounce of contrition from me.

By the time it was finally over my discipline had crumbled and I just clung to him and howled. His tight grip on me prevented anything but a bottom-led waggle-dance across his lap.

“Alright hush, get up now and go back to your corner. No rubbing mind.” He ordered.

“Es Sir.” I sobbed.

I could never find a pulse as a child when I played doctors and nurses. But that evening as I stood in the haven of the corner my bottom pulsed for England. In all my previous punishments, I had never felt that my bottom had swollen so much. It felt huge, like if I moved I would knock ornaments of the shelves.

This time I was permitted to stand with my hands clasped behind my back to keep my hemline raised. The significance of this, I knew, was that I was to be here awhile.

For a long time I did not mind. I needed a good long stint in the corner to revel in my cleansing pain and humble submission. I must have stood there for an hour before I began to relate to the world in a normal way. Then my actions of the day came flooding back. I felt like an idiot. I would be forever known as the girl that hid in the bathroom on exam day until her older boyfriend had to leave work to get her out. What would they say at school? David was in a difficult enough position dating a former pupil without me making it worse. I had acted like a child. I started to cry again.

Whatever punishment David had in store for me I was certainly going to deserve it.

To be continued.

I had made it a point to ask Rad to bring his canes so I might have a “proper caning” as opposed to last week when our space was limited and he wasn’t able to swing very well.

He started the evening off by giving his wife a dozen strokes cold from one of his thinner canes. After watching, it was my turn but I got a warm-up first. He took my jeans down right away and I was across his knee rather quickly. Wasting no time, he started spanking and soon took down my panties (a favorite flowered pair by the way) and moved to the bare. I distinctly remember reaching back and grabbing them and having my hand pushed away. That’s rather normal during scenes with him – having my hand moved but not really holding my wrist or anything.

We had chosen to do the warm-up in an alcove so it was more private, and I had kicked my jeans off. After reaching back again, I was startled to be stood back on my feet, panties around my knees and shirt bunched up. He told me to give him my hand and when I hesitated, a bit confused, he grabbed it and smacked it hard, scolding me for reaching back. He smacked it again and told me not to reach back again. This was very very new to me, and surprising. There is little new at this point and this felt right and appropriate as though it was just meant to be a part of it. It was thrilling in an interesting way.  It hurt, and it was effective, and I didn’t like it, but it was new.  I was quickly back across his lap but not for too much longer.

When he was satisfied, he stood me up and picked jeans up, handing them to me and telling me that I knew where to go. I made my way to a different area and bent over the same spot on a bondage bed where Sandy had been earlier. I didn’t reach back again as I was focused on the sting in my hand still and I knew I’d need to hold on to take the caning. He reminded me to breath at some point. While the strokes were hard they were far from unreasonable. I am proud of myself for taking it well with not much fuss.

It was a great scene to jump start my headspace for the evening. It wasn’t disciplinary or punishing, but it wasn’t light hearted play either. It’s the kind of spanking I really like. Just because and semi-serious, with a good burn, nice headspace and a good hug after.

- Marie

The Tickettime concept is a electronic paper boarding pass and a notification wristwatch, which can be torn off the main boarding pass. The wristwatch is set to the time zone of your destination.

At first, I was concerned about the “sustainability” factor – but the boarding pass is given back to the airline company and the wristwatch is given to airline counter when you check in on the return flight.

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 “Great Product!!!!!” 2009-09-12
By L. Nelson (USA)
I am so glad I purchased this strap. I wanted to do cable kickbacks at the gym, but they didn’t have an ankle strap attachment. It is easy to use and I keep it in my car so I don’t leave it at home.

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I saw the strap swinging out of the corner of my eye. I looked, was it really there? Was it really the suspension strap? Oh gods, please say yes. I rushed out to see them with the extension ladder, putting up the clamp and strap. He asked me to get the rest of the gear and I bounced all the way back to the tub and brought out the rest. We hooked up the ring and then decided to move it over a little more. He put it more centered and then added the paper airplane that goes with the rig always. I grabbed the ring and began spinning gleefully. He laughed and took the pulleys off my shoulder and I spun even more. Then I swung, my feet slipping on the floor, back and forth on the ring, from hands out of practice, and my smile grew even wider. He took a few swings himself, let the bouncers have a pull and then tied it off to wait. There would be Flying tonight.

I was bouncy and giddy as the club opened, pouncing all my friends with glee at the prospect of suspension later. They giggled and hugged me back, understanding my excitement. Things got going and the club started filling, and then he asked me to check on the hemp, make sure it was all in one tub, and then bring it out to our stage. I brought it out and we grinned at each other. It had been a long time, but there was no doubt, he was going to make me fly again.

I bounced, unable to contain my energy as he began to tie. He quizzed me here and there, and I was happy to note I had been imagining the tie correctly these past couple weeks in anticipation of this moment. When it was time to rig me to the ring, I lay on the mat, my feet still bouncing on the floor, grinning over at a few familiar faces in the crowd. Our photographer was snapping photos of the whole thing, but he seemed to catch me at moments when I was sinking into the rope, eyes closed and mind floating. I had to stop tapping my toes when he got to my ankles, my my fingers started tapping instead. Finally fully rigged it was time to go up.

He pulled me off the ground and my eyes flew open and I was in heaven. He got me hooked into the strap and with a couple quick adjustments we were ready. The slightly higher ring than usual actually helped get the rigging even and level. With the pulley tied out of the way, he grabbed my shoulders. Was I ready, oh I’d been ready all evening. We grinned at each other as he started to push, and then I was off, flying through the air, arms and legs spread wide, soaring high above everything.

It had been a long time since I’d been up, even longer since I’d been flying. But it all came back, the breathlessness, the glorious freedom, the total rush of it all. The energy was incredible, he was pushing me higher and higher, spinning and twirling me through the air. I can barely describe how good it felt, how grateful I felt, the energy flowing between us.

My stamina is not what it once was and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer, but I asked to go for a spin. He happily obliged, twirling me faster and faster on the swivel. All the blood rushed to my head, harder that it had done in a very long time. But I wanted to go faster still. I forced my body to curl, and it actually made my head feel a little better, curled into my chest. Then I flattened out to try and slow, but it didn’t feel like it helped much at all. And then he was spinning me again, and I didn’t want it to stop. But when he went for a third round, I grabbed his arms and heard him laugh as I did stop myself.

He jumped back up, asking if I wanted another push, but I clung to him, getting my bearings and finally able to say I was done, my body would not forgive me if I pushed it any more that night. He quickly hooked the pulley up and had me down. I sank into the mats gasping for breath, not because I had forgotten to breathe, but because the energy was still raging through me and I was now on the ground in relative stillness. He quickly unrigged me from the ring and pulled me to my feet and I hugged him tight, so grateful, and needing to share the incredible energy he had given me. Finally able to take hold of the ring, he was able to untie me and pile up the ropes for me to take care of. When he was done, we hugged again, both relaxing down from the high of the scene, and still so very grateful.

He left me with the rope, to finish coming back to earth and take care of the hemp that had been holding my life by simple strands. I pulled it all to me, just feeling it in my hands for a few moments before sorting out the thinner lengths he’d used for my ankles. Starting with the big pieces, I ran them through my fingers, inspecting and feeling, enjoying the smell and the coarseness. Coiling and wrapping the rope and stacking it all together beside me, pausing occasionally to relax into myself.

I was nearly done, with just the little pieces left when one of the crowd could not stay away any longer. A girl came through the strapped off barrier and plopped down in front of me. She hadn’t seen the scene and wanted to know what I was doing, what the rope was for. So I explained the suspension and told her there were pictures in the back of other suspensions if she wanted to see what she missed. She picked up the rope I wasn’t working on and I motioned for her to put it down, barely not snatching it from her, I get more than a little protective of the rope, especially after a scene. She said she was just playing, coiled a little and then set it back down. When I picked it up to wrap it she told me her name and I told her mine and then she wandered off again. Finished cleaning up, I picked up all the coils and packed them away in the tub and then brought it back to our area to wait for the next scene.

I was buzzing with energy the rest of the night, eager to do my electric scenes, and very happy when he motioned me over be part of the second suspension as well. Remembering how her ties went made me very happy with myself. I grinned up at her as she flew, knowing she was feeling the same as I had earlier that night. There is nothing in this world like it.

]]> http://canavaro1203.wordpress.com/2009/10/17/the-ever-popular-sandal-put-your-foot-into-it/ Sat, 17 Oct 2009 11:11:01 +0000 canavaro1203 http://canavaro1203.wordpress.com/2009/10/17/the-ever-popular-sandal-put-your-foot-into-it/

Sandals are an essential part of every man and woman’s wardrobe. They are perfect for outdoor gatherings like picnics, and easy to slip off during a relaxing stroll on the beach! While they are not made for strenuous walks or long hikes, sandals can liven up your informal outfits with grace and elegance.

The ever popular reef sandals have been gaining attractiveness steadily over the last two decades. Everyone who’s anyone owns a pair! The classic two-strap sandal is an evergreen choice for both men and women. With adjustable straps, this elegant piece of footwear is even acceptable with semi-formal outfits.

The sandal is an all-time favorite because it can adapt to just about any situation, and fits perfectly into shoe styles every woman needs as part of her accessories. Check out the ballroom dancing suede sandal, with a stylish 2-inch heel and easy-release buckles. The convenient straps keep your feet snugly in place as you waltz the night away! The salsa-style dance sandal is also available in attractive fluorescent colors, but can be a bit cumbersome to put on and take off because of its elaborate calf-length strap. It rates pretty high on the ‘wow’ scale, though, and can have you looking and feeling like Cinderella at the ball!

While the trend factor is usually the stimulus for buying sandals, remember than no shoe is worth its ‘coolness’ quotient if it hurts your feet. There is a wide range of trendy but comfortable women’s sandals to choose from. Try strappy sandals with block heels for a retro look, or slim cross-straps with tapering heels for an evening out.

Sandals are among the very rare styles of shoes that both men and women can wear. The men’s single-strap hemp sandal is a practical and yet stylish choice. Prices start at $33.95. Adventurous men will fall in love with the range of adventure and sports sandals. The best are the ultimate in sports sandals with adjustable Velcro straps and sturdy rubber outsoles. Some feature a stretch-fit, and are textile-lined to keep your feet fresh while you engage in your favorite sport!

When buying your sandals, ensure that the heel does not have a ‘lip’ at the edge, which can rub against your skin and cause blisters. Also, while thin straps are in, take care that they don’t cut into your skin! As far as sizes go, it’s best to pick a reliable brand and stick to it, so that you can always buy the same size without hesitation.