Merry Christmas!!!!!

Have a happy birthay, Jesus! I love You!!

To the VERY BEST PAPA IN THE WORLD

Not everybody is blessed with such a wonderful daddy as my own. Commonly known to most as Jacques Elan, this amazing person has made it his life's calling to use his beautiful artistic talents to benefit millions of children all over the world. For over twenty years, his cute illustrations, models, board games, diagrams, and stories have entertained and instructed children the world over, and (for those Family Fun viewers) who can ever forget "We're going to have a fun story drawn by uncle Jacques..."

But he's not just a great artist and everybody's favorite uncle Jacques, he's also a wonderful friend and the best dad anybody could hope to have. Even though he couldn't live near us very often, due to the pressures of his ministry, we knew we were in his heart, and he was in ours. Recently, circumstances in general have changed a great deal for all of us, enabling us to have much closer communication and more frequent visit opportunities (HALLELUJAH and YIPPEE!!!), and that's a dream come true for all of us.

But what's most important to me, is knowing that no matter where in the world we go, (and we've been all over the place) I have a very special daddy, who has such a very special place in my heart. JE T'AIME PAPA!!! JOYEUX ANNIVERSAIRE!!

PS See his blog here: http://jacques-mylittlehouse.blogspot.com/

Alternately, find him on facebook: Didier Martin

HIP HIP HURRAH FOR THE BEST DADDY IN THE WORLD!!!!

Essay on Writing an Essay

Essay on Writing an Essay

by Praise C. Martin, © 2004

A short prologue, by the author

This essay was written as a school project whilst in Switzerland, aged 17. I actually wrote it in two sittings, during breaks in dinner-prep. The first part is quite poorly executed, as I really had no idea what I was writing about (it was an experiment in ad-libitum writing) but it gets better as it goes along, once inspiration took over. Anyway, it's just a touch of silliness to brighten your day. Cheers! --P. C. Martin, 2010

A: Introduction

I: Why I’m writing an essay on writing an essay

Well, to begin with, I have a dream. See if you can guess... no, you’re wrong. It’s NOT to be done with this essay. My dream is to graduate from High School. Senior, if possible, but General will do for now.

SO! That’s my dream. Now, in order to complete this grand dream, I am, among other things, required to compose a grand total of 3 essays. This, of course, won’t get me much more than 3 credits, but at least it’s SOMETHING. Now, my only problem was to choose 3 topics. What to do?

Good thing Izzy was around. She inspired me to choose WRITING AN ESSAY as the topic for my essay. Plus, I figured that I could enlighten you, the reader, while I’m at it, with the knowledge of how to properly and correctly write an essay. So let us begin.

II: My feelings at this point in time

I just came back from get-out, so my hair is dirty and so are my clothes. The instant I’m done with this I’M IN THE SHOWER!! Sorry, had to yell that out to make sure no one takes the bathroom before I get there. My legs are hurting from get-out 8 days ago.

I‘m writing this while chewing on my favorite snack—a toothpick. I do believe I shall soon exhaust our Home’s supply of toothpicks one of these days. I’m also trying to decide what to write. Believe me, once I get started I won’t be able to stop... but you have to get me to start first. That can be tough.

Well anyway, back to how I feel about writing this didactic essay on how to write an essay. I feel... uh, I feel wonderful. God is good, life is fair, people here are wonderful, the Family is delightful, today is Chrissy’s birthday and tonight we’re gonna have a party! Yay. All that to say, I’m happy and well.

B: Getting Started

I: Doing warm-ups

Right, so, the essay. The essay on how to write an essay. Okay! Before we start, we must always, always do our warm-ups. This includes flicking each finger a number of times and grabbing a fresh toothpick to chew. Get up, stretch your back, stretch your toes, stretch your limbs, go to the bathroom, come back, and sit down in front of your notebook—or whatever you’ll write your essay on. Oh, run to the furthest tap and have a drink first. Better now? Good. So sit down, grab another toothpick, and let’s start. No, wait, you forgot your glasses. Go find them, take them out of their case, place them firmly on your nose, check the time, and then place your glasses’ case neatly in front of you. Done? Lovely. Let’s commence.

II: My daydreams

A good writer must have a muse. Uh... that’s 2 words, not one, by the way. I, personally, particularly enjoy simulating Shakespeare at work. Oooh, I can see it as I speak! Picture me, sitting at a table with a flourish, picking up my quill and clasping it to my breast, thrusting my eyes Heavenward and crying...

“Oh Love! (Pick up a fresh toothpick.) Why dost thou elude me! I must write thereof, but thy words escape me! (Scribble scribble) I must write a tale!—Of Love! Yes, yes... I must let the fires shoot from my pen!” (At this point flames shoot out of his pen.) “Props!” He yells loudly, “I said a FAKE fire-pen, not a real one! Now see what you’ve caused me to do to my fine handiwork (admittedly not much more than a collection of scribbles... but hey)! (Recall this lesson forever, dear readers: never, and again I say, NEVER use a genuine fire-pen to write an essay.) Let us recommence.

I imagine myself in a moonlit garden, under the balcony, behind which my object of passion is hidden in her darkened room. I call to her. No reply. I call again, louder. Still no reply. I fall on my knees (and this dramatically, with a hand clasped to the bosom, and the other raised high) in the soft grass under the starlit sky, weeping aloud for the heavens to swallow me up if my love does not requite this passion! At last a light turns on in the darkened alcove above me (pick up a fresh toothpick and scribble frantically on a sheet of paper, brow feverish and eyes anxious), I call out to her,

“Meggie, my love! Come forth upon thy balcony from thy chamber! I must see thy lovely countenance! I have so much my heart wishes to whisper, to shout forth to thee! Meggie, I must know! Dost thou love me? Meggie, pray, answer, I beseech thee!”

Suddenly a big huge woman with a nightcap, an apron and a rolling pin rushes out of the room and glares over the balcony.

“And ‘oo would be lookin’ for Meg at this time of the night? There ain’t nobody ‘ere bearin’ that name! Ye’re at the wrawng ‘ouse, mister! Now git movin’ and don’t make me come down! Shoo!”

(She advances menacingly, and he backs off hurriedly, profusely apologizing, then dashes off, red-faced, out of the garden, hopping over the low wall and losing a shoe in the process. He then stops on the sidewalk a ways away and checks the address Meggie’s best friend secretly gave him—after much tactful persuasion—at the last masquerade ball, where he’d implored her to aid him in winning Meggie’s hand and heart.)

“Ah me!” he cries at last, after patiently deciphering the hastily-scribbled note, “I’m on the wrong street!” His passion not being the least bit dampened, he marches bravely, minus one shoe, to the correct house and repeats his scene, under what he hopes to be the correct balcony. Ah, sweet Love! his love appears on the balcony, and, in a whirl of passion, and after inquiries concerning the nature and whereabouts of the missing shoe, she consents to fly away with him, and he whisks her away to a fairy-tale land, where Meggie and Sir Teacher live happily ever after...

TEACHER????!!? Um... hee hee, I was just, um, yeah, like, um, heh, MUSING,... um, yeah, that’s it... gulp?...

III: Wake-up blues

I’m now in a baaaad mood. Just got 3 black marks on the demerit chart. Two more and I’ll have two weeks worth of dishes lined up for me. And all because of daydreaming... musing. Yes, boys and girls, musing is NOT what you should be doing during school time. My teacher ordered me to learn 25 Bible verses about not letting my mind wander, and now I have the song “Shoo Shoo Daydream” running through my head... oh woe is me.

But hey, I’m sure glad I’M not Sir what’s-his-name, singing serenades in the middle of the night to the wrong house... ooh, talk about how many demerits I’d get if I did that—ouch! I’d be on dishes until next Christmas! Well, let’s get started with the actual facts and how-to’s of writing an essay.

C: Choosing My Words and Laying Out

I: To begin with

Have you chosen your theme yet? Hrmm? No? Well, choose one now. Pick something sensible, such as, the life story of some infamous fiddle... uh, no, I meant famous infidel—or great man or woman of God; or perhaps how to grow carrots, or how babies are made (not for little eyes and ears), or whatever other subject you so desire.

Research your topic extensively, taking notes of essential facts and figures, and all appropriate details. Organize and lay them out in an orderly fashion, and then get started! I find it practical to make a simple outline. It helps me not to get off on too many tangents... um, sometimes, at least.

II: Continuation

You must now start writing. This is when you must (pick up a new toothpick—your last one has long since worn out) cross your fingers and bow your head and implore, claiming the almighty and powerful KEYS, that your essay be speedily over with and written with masterful genius and, most importantly, lively, not tedious, truthfulness. Now—this part gets a bit tricky—notice that your spine is curvable. Hunch your shoulders and lower your head so that it is no farther than 3 inches away from your paper. Make sure your back is in a perfect C-curvature. This is the surest and best way to strain your eyes and get a really, really big backache. I’d sit straight and keep my head a little higher if I were you. That’s perfect. Now, hold your pencil between your thumb and first 2 fingers, curling the other remaining fingers in the palm of your hand (and you can quiver and shiver slightly in anticipation of the tête-à-tête... uh, the actual ‘pen-to-paper’ showdown).

III: Grande Finale!

Hours pass. You scribble frantically, furiously, gloriously!—Then you go back and erase about half of what you just wrote. The seasons change, and still you write. You write, and you write, and you write. You remain devoted to your essay. You dream of it at night, you long to finish it soon, you work with burning passion, your teacher presses you to complete it, and you ready yourself to read it aloud to a class full of snoozing fellow-students. You are glued to your essay, until... finally... it is done! It’s complete! You read it over one last time, and then collapse, thoroughly spent with your expenditure of energy. Your many years of total devotion to your essay have finally paid off: it is finished at long last. The great day comes in which you stand up before thousands of students, teachers, the school board, mom, dad, the president and her husband Bill—and you read your essay, aloud and dramatically, correctly intoning and emoting every word and nuance. Then you bow as the crowd gives you a standing ovation. You raise your eyes Heavenward, and, with a twinkle in your eye, picture yourself ticking off one box from your 80-square credit chart, and you descend and fondly place your treasured essay in an illuminated glass vault in the center of the School’s Hall of Momentoes, then turn to firmly shake your teacher’s hand. Teacher?! Oops, there go another 2 demerits for daydreaming... see you at the dishline!

Welcome Clara Ann May!!!

Wait a sec, did I get her name right? Someone correct me if I'm wrong.

ANYWAY...

This is to welcome the charmingly adorable poochie-cheeks baby, firstborn to Vicky and Chris (a.k.a. Vicosa and Chris "Crocodile" Dundee). Hip hip HURRAH! Hip hip HURRAH!!

Vicky is one of my dearest friends, and thereby her progeny are entitled to forever bask in the loving attentive pampering and cross-patched sternness of their favorite old auntie Praise, and may they never lack for necessities or pinches on the cheeks!!!

This particular bundle of squishy cuteness was born a few days ago, and it was sheer neglect on my part to fail to say so right when it happened, but, as they say, better late than never!

Congratulations dearest Vicky, on your beautiful baby! I'm so glad the birth went well--see, you shouldn't always believe all the horror-stories your best friends tell you. (Heh heh)

Jesus loves--and that's all you actually need to remember--and anyway, it's my private belief that Jesus has a special soft spot in his heart for expectant mothers and tiny babies. He spoils us with his love!

I love you Vicky! Looking forward to seeing you real soon!

Library: Hornblower by C. S. Forester

My latest acquisition:

The complete "Hornblower" collection, by C. S. Forester. It details the heroic deeds of that fabulous sea captain and naval officer of His Majesty's Navy, Horatio Hornblower, principally during the late 17's and early 1800's.

This riveting series was the source of the award-winning 1998-2003 British miniseries by the same name, starring Ioan Gruffudd and Robert Lindsay. However, the TV series only covered the first few books, and dear Horatio goes on to live a long and prosperous life beyond that. Anybody interested? Here's where you can get the books:

http://www.mediafire.com/?dvr6y8x2e8d5x

And remember, if you would like to acquire any of the books from my library, but cannot for whatever reason access them via the links, please let me know, and I'll be happy to send them to you directly. Cheers and more cheers!!

In Honour of ...

LAURA, my very own tiny baby sister... turning all of 19 on this very day. My great desire was to get her a stunning birthday present, but nothing worked out WAAAAHHH! (sniff) But nevertheless, this is her day, and I would like her to know how very much I love her and miss her, today of all days, and I would give a lot to be there with her now and celebrate!!!

Laura, here's to YOU! I pray that this year will prove to be the very best yet. Likewise, I pray that we can see each other again sometime in the near future, and most of all, I pray that the Lord gives you the precious gift of His guidance!!! And may the fondest wishes of your heart come true for you this year. Hugs and cheers!!! Hip hip HURRAH!!!

Kids and Sea-Lions

Well, this post is about a week overdue, I'm afraid. (Where have I been all this time, anyway?!) Sorry about that!
Last week, the girls' abuelitos were here for a few days, bringing with them our good friends Angie and Joella, and Joella's two little girls, Wully and Alexipooch. Nicknames.
Anyway, Jose and Gloria took us ladies and kiddos to the port to see the sea-lions. Unfortunately, of the four cameras only Luchi's had batteries, and they didn't last very long. Grrr....
But PTL, we got some shots anyway. Here they are:

Wully (front), Raff, and Floppy (back)--3-year-olds

Abuela Gloria with Floppy

Bebe, Mumsy, Abuelita, Floppy, and Abuelito Jose

Abuela Gloria with monkey-baby

(she didn't take to her grandparents; naughty naughty)

Sleeping away...

Dead Sea Lion

Believe it or not, that piece of red meat is a neck wound on a great brown hairy sea-monster. It was directly below where we were behind a chain-link fence; I spotted it and everyone came running. It's a little hard to see clearly in the pic, but you can see the creature's nose on the left, and the top of its great dead body, with that magnificent rotting wound on top. Would've made a barbecue for an army... heheh

Here are the kids climbing the fence trying to get a better view. Wully is in front of two more sealions, sorry bout that. We were disappointed not to see very many, because normally this area was so thick with massive sealions lounging, fighting and flopping around on the rocks, but besides the dead one in the last pic (and yes, it actually was dead), there were only two or three others, and 4 little seals swimming merrily in the water.

Look closely between Floppy's right hand and face--there a brown mass there that actually was a sleeping sealion. He was too far away to get a close-up pic.

Ah, there they are. See those weird little outcroppings on the beach? Seals and sea-lions--some of them over 4 meters long, no kidding. Those beasts are gigantic. Apparently they decided to move from the crowded rocks to this nice stretch of beach about a kilometer down the coast. We had been rather disappointedly heading back to the van, when an old fellow came by on his bike and laughed, and said the creatures had moved.

We all hopped back into the van, full of hope, and found them here.--No fence between us, but with signs all over the place instructing us not to approach them, because these wild creatures are dangerous, and are under the observation of a wildlife reserve. Most of them are actually branded, imagine that. We saw huge numbers branded onto the backs of a few of them, as they swam near the docks later on. I made an estimative count of the ones on the beach--there were more than two hundred, stretched out over about half a kilometer of beach. Seals and sea lions, looking like great monstrous slugs.

OOoooh the awesomest thing was to watch them fight, heheh. Well, after this Luchi's battery died, and so you'll just have to take my word about the marvelous ships and boats and stuff we saw later at the port. Too bad, and ta-tah for now!

Library: Mere Christianity

Yesterday, I opened my email account, and there was a letter from my mom. "Cherie," it said, "As a BIG favor, would you be able to find the book 'Mere Christianity' by C.S. Lewis, and send it to me in a file rather than by mediafire?"

Her reasons for the latter, she said, was that since her internet connection in Madagascar is painfully slow and very costly, out-of-the-way and bulky storage sites like mediafire are inaccessible.

So I acquired the book for her, and then I thought, hmmm... must be good. I had a quick read of it and convinced myself that it's an excellent book, one which I intend to study in the very near future; and worth sharing with you here on this site.

http://www.mediafire.com/?n248g15d4g3jssb

Nevertheless, I want to state here for the record, that if anyone has any trouble downloading a file from my site, or if you'd like to acquire something that seems impossible to find, please let me know, and I'll be happy to send it to you, in the case of the former, or do my best to acquire it for you, in the latter case. And sharing interesting books and literary pieces for the edification of the whole, is, of course, the purpose behind this library and vintage depot. I love you!

Library: The Importance of Being Earnest

This is a very interesting 3-act play by Oscar Wilde--absolutely blooming hilarious. Have a good laugh, but don't forget to be earnest...

http://www.mediafire.com/?jnqomc9evjrhmk9

Visitors!!

Yup! The little girls have awesome grandparents; and they've finally arrived today for a long-awaited visit, bringing all the happiness and treats and big bear hugs and smiles they could stuff into their van. And, to add to the merry number, came our good friend Joella, and her two little girls Wully and Alexia (Wully and Floppy are quasi-twins--that is, they were born a day apart, in the same hospital, Joella and I even shared the same hospital room--and they spent the first 3 years of their lives together as little playmates.) Alexia is precisely one year older than my little monkey-baby Chantal. And rounding off the company is our dear friend Angie, who'll be working with us again next year when we move back to BA. How jolly good to see them all again! I was happily surprised to discover that everybody actually does fit into the house, ha! I foresee a lot of loud screeching noises and plenty of bumps and bustles over the course of the next few days, but hallelujah, life is so very short that every moment of happiness and laughter and pleasant fellowship is important. I hope somebody has a camera handy--if so, I'll post pix whenever I can. Ha-ha!!! Wish us luck and great fun!

Library: Every Living Thing

The fifth and final in our series of audiobooks by James Herriot, read by Christopher Timothy. Simply splendid! I'm going to miss my nightly listening sessions, sniff. Love you and hope y'all enjoy it!

http://www.mediafire.com/?daczd8a5b039i

Reflections on Writing

I have been a little slack with my posts lately--I'm sure there has been a noticeable drop in the frequency of my posts. To all who follow my blog with love, I apologize deeply. And here is a little treatise based on my ruminations on the subject.

I would like to say that my time is occupied with my writing. This is not strictly true, from a factual point of view--actually, very little of my time is spent writing. But when I say that, I mean that most of my own time--mental energy, really, because I don't have much actual spare time that isn't peppered with baby noises and bouncing monkeys on my knee--is immersed in my writing. Each unoccupied moment of mental spacetime is currently being dedicated to developing the stories.

I currently have seven books in the works. Seven stories, carefully filed in meticulous order, which I'm developing into books, bit by bit, as inspiration strikes. These are, for the most part, shelved projects, ideas which came to me months or years ago, and which one day will be published and marketed, and all of my faithful followers will receive an autographed copy...

But I am actually only working on two books at present. I wish I could tell all about them, but I won't, because it'll take up far too much time, more than I have at present I'm afraid. The kids will be coming home from their get-out walk in a while, and I'll have to be ready for them when they arrive. But here are the stories in a nutshell.

One book is the story of two families, neighbours, in the 1800's, and their lives. Hortense, the protagonist, is determined to be a missionary, even though she knows it will cost her everything. And Leopold, her neighbour, is in love with Hortense's sister Maxine. But his father has recruited him into a secret brotherhood, and now he must guard the secret of his profession--but it's destroying him from the inside.

Actually, it's going to be about three book-length volumes. I'm halfway through the second volume already. The inspiration for the story came in a haunting flash one day, while walking through the neighbourhood of Chilavert; I saw a house that had very strange-looking windows--they seemed to be bricked over. It was so intriguing, I dreamed about it several times, and finally decided to write a story. The working title of the book, in fact, is The Mysterious House with Missing Windows.

The second book is one I'm co-writing with my good friend Stevie. We each invented a character, and these characters write to each other--these letters will constitute the main body of the book, with very little, if any, surrounding narrative. We alternate writing one letter each week. I'm not going to give away the plot, nor even the characters of this book--but suffice it to say that it's going to be a veritable novelty.

One thing I've found to be essential in novel-writing is to, in essence, live your characters' lives. Get to know them as though you lived in their world--in other words, you have to write straight from your heart, from your own observations and conclusions, or you won't convince anybody else. And in the case of fiction, its reality must be lived in the heart and mind, either from experience or imagination, in order to be believable.

And to those among you who enjoy writing, but who aren't sure whether you possess the talent or not, my advice is to write. The first few pieces you write likely won't be entirely publishing-worthy, but you'll get better and better with practice. By practice, I mean make each piece your best piece. Don't bother writing just for silliness' sake--if you're going to spend the time and invest all that mental energy into your project, make it as best as you can. Who knows? You may be the next Agatha Christie.

Another thing: don't be afraid of corrections. I suggest taking one or two close friends, people you trust and who share your interest in the piece you're writing, into your confidence, and having them go over your work critically. Don't go around showing your work to everybody and trying to get as many opinions as possible: it can be so very discouraging to hear too many opinions on the subject, and doubtless some or most won't even be interested enough to make well-rounded suggestions, but will just comment according to the mood of the moment--which won't help you much at all.

One or two individuals will do splendidly, and you'll have the pleasure of knowing that somebody is truly interested in your work, and wants to help you make it reach its best potential. It's also an incentive to continue working on something even after the inspiration fizzles out, when you know someone is anxious to hear the rest of the story.

Finally, don't let the adage "do few things but do them well" bother you. If you have a penchant for writing, and you feel the storytelling urges but have no time to indulge, it may be that you have not divided your time correctly, or perhaps are squandering it in some unnecessary passtime. I, for example, dearly love to play Mah Jongg during my downtimes--but after an hour and a half of trying to beat my own records, I find I've neither contributed to society, nor grown in intellect, wisdom, or wit, nor produced anything worthwhile. So I have to force myself not to indulge in that game when I could be working on my book, or doing something else.

Finally, don't be afraid to make mistakes. It's okay to go back and change half the work you did on your piece if you think it can be better. Just remember to save a copy of the original so you can compare the different versions. Keep good records--I recommend uploading all your progress, or backing it up, to prevent losses in case of crashes or robbery.

Hey, bebe is squirming all over the place; I'd better rescue her. Love you all so much!

Vintage Mask (1985)

These things are good:

ice cream and cake

a ride on a Harley

seeing monkeys in the trees

the rain on my tongue

and the sun shining on my face.

These things are a drag:

dust in my hair

holes in my shoes

no money in my pocket

and the sun shining on my face.

--Roy L. "Rocky" Dennis

(Dec. 4, 1961 - Oct. 4, 1978)

"Mask" is a very touching movie, based on the true story of a young man named Rocky Dennis, who was afflicted with a very rare disease, colloquially termed 'lionitis'--a disfiguring enlargement of the face and cranium. I wouldn't recommend that this film be viewed by young children, as it can be a trifle distressing; otherwise it's a beautiful story, splendidly acted, casting Eric Stoltz as Rocky, Cher as biker-mother Rusty, Sam Elliott as the freewheeling Gar, and Laura Dern as Rocky's lovely blind girlfriend.

rapidshare.com/files/91379473/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part1.rar.html

rapidshare.com/files/91380039/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part2.rar.html

rapidshare.com/files/91379464/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part3.rar.html

rapidshare.com/files/91379468/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part4.rar.html

rapidshare.com/files/91380094/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part5.rar.html

rapidshare.com/files/91409803/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part6.rar.html

rapidshare.com/files/91409386/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part7.rar.html

rapidshare.com/files/91410671/Mask_DVD_RIP_.part8.rar.html

Library: The Lord God Made Them All

And here is the second-to-last part of the series. It's a good deal of fun, though since the chapters jump back and forth in sequence, it takes a bit to get used to it. Some really funny parts, like chapter 26 for example, heeheehee! Great for a good giggle.

http://www.mediafire.com/?ypmgpbvh9a549

Library: All Things Wise and Wonderful

Here is All Things Wise and Wonderful, the third volume of the acclaimed series by James Herriot, veterinary surgeon in the Yorkshire dales in the '30s. Read by Christopher Timothy--great bunches of fun! Each chapter stands out on its own as an individual masterpiece. Here's the link:

http://www.mediafire.com/?35l62jbiq2ljc

Let Us Be Kind

We cannot know the grief

That men may borrow

We cannot know the souls

Storm-swept by sorrow

But love can shine upon the way

Today, tomorrow

Let us be kind.

Upon the wheel of pain

So many weary lives are broken

We live in vain

Who give no tender token

Let us be kind.

Library: All Things Bright and Beautiful

Here's the second book in the series by renowned vet James Herriot, this one titled 'All Things Bright and Beautiful.'

http://www.mediafire.com/?pr2gzddrarypf

I've been listening to a few chapters of the series per day, usually in place of the customary drama tape while Floppy goes to bed and I nurse the woosel to sleep--well written, and properly read, too. I'm halfway through the third book now, so it won't be long before I post that one up too.

Oh by the way, for some strange reason the ebooks and the audiobooks are misaligned--that is, the chapters do not correspond correctly. I think it's because some editions divide James Herriot's series into four books, each titled after a stanza of Cecil Alexander's famous poem; other editions divide the books into 8 or 9 volumes, with different titles. The content is all there, of course, just not in the same order.

So, and this is my firm suggestion, SCREW THE EBOOKS, as they are badly transcribed anyway, and stick with the audiobooks, which are cleverly and wonderfully read by Christopher Timothy, a grand master of his art.

Makes me feel like downing a pint of bitter myself. Anyway, cheerio!

Human Power, Frailty, Sorrow, and Death

Early this morning, Nestor Kirchner, former president of Argentina, and husband of the current president Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, died suddenly after a heart attack.

It wasn't completely unexpected; he's had two major heart surgeries during this past year, and over the past decade has burned his candle furiously at both ends. It was his skillful management of this country's finances that withdrew Argentina from the complete financial meltdown of 2001. And after 4 years in the office, his wife succeeded him, becoming the first woman president in Argentine history.

Both are active and high-profile political figures, and even though there are many who differ slightly and greatly with the politics of the Kirchner regime, today one can only sympathize with a bereaved human wife, who must still put on a brave face and continue dealing with the crushing load of an entire nation, with all its manifold individual troubles and problems, which only a president must bear.

I feel very deeply for her, as she and her husband appeared to be very close in more ways than one; not just husband and wife, but as a core of leadership, a team, political allies, who publicly campaigned for each other, and fought side by side for the same cause, two ordinary faulty humans who dared to step forward and attain to greatness and power.

Even though there are many who strongly oppose their party and actions on a political scale, today comes as a strong reminder that even powerful political magnates are human: they live and die, they have feelings, pains, ups and downs, sickness, and mood swings; they catch colds, get hungry and sleepy, deal with their kids' school and doctor visits and personal family problems, grow occasionally weary of everything, and sometimes just wish they were back with the wee small daisy.

Another reminder that this life is but a vapour, and only what's done for love will last.

I pray that Jesus gives Cristina his never-failing grace to cope during this difficult time, and grant that she may be reunited with her dear husband one day in their Saviour's arms of love.

The Paradoxical Commandments

Today I had a lovely half-hour chat with Fofi, a dear friend of mine, and he mentioned that he was having some trouble in school. I asked what sort of trouble, thinking to dispense my usual big-sister-ish advice of "work first, play later" or "stand up for your conviction" etc, but he said that he's one of the best students in his class, and so some of the other tweens his age are jealous, and spite him, or leave him out of their circle. I felt bad for him, because he's a real friendly chap, not the arrogant sort, and it must be frustrating to be disliked for something that is in fact a brilliant asset--and anyway, it's not as if he can help it if he studies well and makes good grades.

I thought for a bit, and this poem by Kent Keith popped into my mind. The poem became very well known after it was apparently found written on the wall of Mother Teresa's room. Even though she is revered as an exalted example of Christ-likeness, we can each shine in our own personal sphere, just by doing what we know is right when the choice comes around.

The Paradoxical Commandments

by Dr. Kent M. Keith

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.

Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.

Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.

Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.

Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.

Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.

Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.

Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.

Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.

Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.

Give the world the best you have anyway.

How I Got My Residency

I've been reminscing on life in general lately, and I thought it might be a good time to tell the interesting story of how I became a legal resident of this country. Argentina is wonderful; after two years of living here somewhat illegally (that is, I had not gone to renew my visa since Floppy was born in 2007), last year I finally received my permanent residency.
It was sort of funny, actually, because twice my application was ignored or denied, even though I was applying on the grounds of being the parent of an underage Argentine citizen--which here means that nobody can throw you out of the country, heh.
But I had thought that the reasonable thing to do would be to apply for permanent residency, and eventual citizenship. The first time I applied, I waited for about a year and never heard anything about it, and when I went to inquire, nobody had heard anything, and I figured my paperwork must have gotten lost in some dusty pile someplace. And so I applied again. It was denied immediately, on the grounds that I had declared myself financially insolvent right from the start (at the time we simply didn't have the money to pay the fee--I think it was a bit of a lack of faith on my part, really) and so the officials apparently didn't relish the thought of my being another leech on the Argentine society.
I received an official letter asking me to bring another letter stating my reasons for desiring a permanent residency. I got upset then, as I had already written a beautifully proof-read letter in grammatically perfect Spanish; and I decided to write a straight-forward letter in unofficial language, stating in plain terms (and less-than-excellent Spanish, ha) why I was so determined.
And I took it to the Ministry personally instead of sending it, and waited two hours for an interview with the official presiding over my case. When he condescended to receive me, I looked him square in the eye (I was about 3 months pregnant, you know), and informed him that besides deeply loving the country and being the mother of soon-to-be two little Argentines, I was a very talented individual, who unfortunately could not get a proper tax-paying job without a lawful residency; and I had to depend on the generosity of my groom's family to house, feed and clothe my children and myself, even though they didn't have much for themselves.
He frowned disapprovingly, and remarked that since my passport showed I had traveled recently, I must be able to pay the 200 dollar fee. In truth, I had recently gone to Brazil to see my sister and dad for a mini-family-reunion. I went into an angry rage then (ahhh! for once my well-practiced angry-mother-face came into handy) and I really let the guy have it. I somewhat tearfully and dramatically recounted how I hadn't seen my dear father in many, many years, and how my elder sisters kindly paid for a round-trip visit to see him, out of the kindness of their hearts, because I couldn't afford the trip myself. This was, of course, absolutely true, and even the man became a little softer. Here the rule is to treat pregnant mothers with the utmost respect, and so he was a little distressed to see tears in my eyes. Then he asked me why I didn't ask my sisters to pay for my residency, since they were so generous. I silently allowed my eyes to bulge balefully at the man, and he sort of backed out of that question and I remember he cleared his throat right around then. "I'm afraid I still can't grant your residency, ma'am," he said.
(I actually did this) I shook my finger and informed him that, like it or not, and whether he approved the residency or not, I was STAYING. And the only way I would ever be able to be a useful addition to Argentine society would be if he gave me my residency, so I could get a proper job. I put on my most worthy airs right then, and even though I don't actually intend to get a local job anytime soon, you have to agree that my argument was very sound. Even he seemed to see the logic of it. After all, I'm an intelligent and educated woman, and if I were a registered citizen I could be a respectable addition to society AND I would pay taxes, but as it was, nobody could kick me out of the country, I couldn't get a job, I didn't pay taxes, and I was STILL eligible for the abundant free services provided by the state. Hmmm. I could see the wheels in his little head turning. At last, he let me off with a disapproving nod. "We'll see, ma'am. I really don't think there's anything I can do, but send another letter stating your reasons for applying for citizenship." I pulled the letter out of my purse and slapped it on the desk in front of him, with aplomb. Then with my favorite charming and innocent smile, I rose and left his office, making sure to turn my head and smile demurely at him one more time before disappearing from his view.
My visit to the police-records office was more rewarding. As I waited in line I prayed that I would meet someone who could walk me easily through the gobbledegook of paperwork there. My number was called, and I went to one of the desks, and fortunately the smiling elderly man decided to adopt me as a protege. He not only processed my paperwork for me in a flash, but he amiably offered to verbally walk me through each of the steps remaining towards acheiving my residency and eventual citizenship. He did so concisely and clearly; even I understood the process crystal-clearly. I explained to him my woes, and he clucked sympathetically. He had worked at the Ministry for 8 years, he said, and said he would help me go around some of the red tape.
Ordinarily I would have had to get another appointment for another day to visit the office upstairs and bring an extra copy of all my papers, but when I asked him what day I should come back, he shook his head. "I'll do that now," he said with a wink, and photocopied all my papers right there. Then he led me upstairs to the record offices, ignored the lengthy waiting line, settled me onto a comfortable chair, and tapped on one of the office doors. He walked inside with my dossier, gave the copies of my papers to the lady at the desk, who processed them right there and returned them to him, and then he was sailing back out towards me with a smug smile on his face. "I'll just take these and get them stamped," he said, and he disappeared again. He returned in a while and escorted me back down the stairs. "Come back in two weeks to pick up your papers," he said. I thanked him profusely for his help, but he shook his head. Earlier I had told him the reason I had come to Argentina, and all about our volunteer training program and educational shows in impoverished schools all over the city. I had also showed him the brochure of our local work and charities. "It's a pleasure to help people like you," he replied to my thanks, "We need more people like you in our country."
Two weeks later I went back and picked up one priceless paper: my permanent residency and ID number. With this paper I can apply for a national ID card, and eventually a passport, and still retain my native citizenship.
And here ends the happy tale of my battle with the Argentine Ministerial RedTape, Incorporated. Cheerio!

Happy Birthday to the Best Mother-in-law Ever

Need I say more? Gloria is the finest mother-in-law a lady such as myself could ever hope to have. Incidentally, I greatly appreciate her marvelous mothering skills--they do say the finished product reflects the skill of the craftsman, after all--having turned out the most wonderful young man alive today: my own husband, Danny. He's a credit to her; so I believe. I hope that one day, my children will make someone as happy and fulfilled as her son has made me.

This wonderful woman and her teddy-bear-of-a-husband Jose took me into their hearts and home right from the start, welcoming me with all the love and warmth of a set of doting parents, and never once made me feel the slightest bit foreign, even when I couldn't speak the least bit of Spanish and didn't seem to be trying, either...

Three cheers for Gloria! I'm praying for you, and love you lots!

And by the way, I neglected to post for Jose's birthday... it was the 12th of October. Sorry! Te mando muchisimo amor Papi!!! Besos y abrazos, y estamos orando para que todo salga bien con el seguro, y que puedan venir a visitarnos pronto. Much, much love!!!

Library: All Creatures Great and Small

Here is a little treat: the first of a series of books by James Herriot, a Scottish veterinary surgeon in the Yorkshire moors in the 1930's. The audio books are read by Christopher Timothy, with the proper accents and all... a real treat.

The ebooks are included too, but they're very poor quality transcriptions, I'm sorry to say. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this series of books as much as I did. I'll continue posting the subsequent books as I upload them. Here's the link to the first one,

All Creatures Great and Small:

http://www.mediafire.com/?86us9y8cubxjf

News From Madagascar

Just got the latest bulletin from my mom in Madagascar, and I'm taking the liberty to post it here.

Now I know everybody's got their own fields to plough, but these missionaries in particular are doing a FABULOUS work, and only with the spiritual and financial assistance of dokes like

YOU, ME, AND THE OTHER GUY

can they can continue to reach more needy people with the sweet love of Jesus and the material basics that impoverished Malagasies have hardly even heard of.

"Well," says you, "there are zillions of other places just like it all over the world. What's so special about Madagascar in particular?"

"Nothing," replies I, "except that NOW YOU KNOW ABOUT IT and now you can DO SOMETHING about it. :-D"

(If ye know these things, happy are ye if you do them, etc...)

Madagascar is a place where receiving a gift of five dollars makes your heart very happy (I oughtta know--I lived there myself for over two years), so please don't hesitate to fork up that bit of extra pocket money and send it right over. They need and deserve it!

The harvest is plenteous, but the labourers are few...

Here's the link to the newsletter. Dig the pix! Way to go, Eldee!

http://www.mediafire.com/?ivuv55vl2e92gf6

The Next Day--Sequel to My Birthday

Saturday dawned cloudy and misty. Today was the day Danny would take me shopping for birthday presents... We arranged that I would take care of the kids in the morning, and then we would leave at 4 p.m. I had to do the bulk of my laundry, and also had the misfortune of burning two fingers on a sizzling pot while making lunch--owie!! Other then that, the day went by smoothly, except for a hectic few moments right before leaving--I'm of the firm impression

that NO WOMAN in the world can get ready to leave as fast as I can, heh.

Bummer we don't have any pictures of our time out, but it was a simply smashing time. Danny had his heart set on getting me a few articles of serviceable clothing, and so we headed for town amidst a grey drizzle, with the baby safely tucked and bundled in a harness. Luchi kept Floppy at home for us, THANKS AGAIN LUCHI!!!

So we traipsed through some ritzy stores in a hip part of town looking for bargains. I'm a lucky-ducky in that--Sunday is Mother's Day here, so there were promotions and sales in every store. We thought of getting me some much-needed sunglasses, but were immediately repelled by both the shoddiness of the cheap ones, and the horrific high prices of the designer ones. We decided to search for something more middleground-ish another day.

We ended up getting me some lovely sport stockings, a smart pair of jeans, and a belt. A great big men's belt, double leather, wasted white finish, with a massive buckle. My favorite. Actually, it was Danny's idea. I think he's intending to wear it himself, heh. He still wears my greenish-black scarf I got myself in my first Argentine winter.

Reminds me of the guy who bought his wife a chainsaw for her Christmas present. He slept on the couch for the next week or so, and finally complained to his buddies, "Well, we needed a chainsaw..."

WAHAHAHAHAA!! Nope, that's not how it's like. I'm wearing the belt now, and it's just awesome. Danny punched some extra holes to accommodate my rather skinny frame, of course, and it looks so very good on me. Danny also treated himself to a new pair of jeans, hallelujah!!

Oh yes, an interesting thing happened while I was in one of the dressing rooms trying on some jeans. When I came out to show Danny and the saleslady the finished effect, I found Danny with a bright red face, in lively conversation with a doting sort of lady. Apparently the lady, charmed by our beautiful bouncing munchkin in her manly father's arms, had come up and asked Danny what the baby's name was. And Danny couldn't remember her given name. An awkward

second or two passed before Danny laughingly spluttered that he gets confused sometimes, because everyone calls her "Goobers", and he forgets her complicated French name (at this point the name popped into his mind), Chantal, given her by her French mother. I emerged from the dressing room in time to catch the last half of the conversation. I tried very hard not to laugh just then at the sight of the lady's face.

Hee hee hee!

Now I'm going to show you a few pictures, and you'll be very delighted. I hope...

No, wait, that's Danny singing a happy song, as his doting wife provides giggling harmonies.

Take a good look at this next one:
No, it's not my beautiful grumpy baby, or my beautiful red shirt, or the fact that I have no earlobes. Look at my face...

I poked my nose with a spit!!! No really, we went to a jolly little tattoo parlour and a nice young chap in a white smock and elegant moustache did some unholy incantations around my nose, and put a thick sterilized needle through one nostril. Then he distended it. I made it a point not to cry, but a tear or two slipped down anyway. I smiled bravely. Meanwhile Danny had a jolly ten minutes swapping yarns with the tattooed pierced fellows below. When my ordeal was over I had a spike peeping timidly above my right nostril, and I had a pleasant conversation with the pierce-person. A charming fellow, very young; wants to travel through Europe. And I was delighted to hear him advise me on the care of my piercing: "Wash your nose three times a day with white soap, warm water, and salt." I wondered aloud about the usual prescriptions for store-bought ointments and cleansers, and he replied, to my further delight, "Well, we're very 'casero' (rough trans: homemade) here; we prefer using the good ol' natural things. And who knows if someone might be allergic or react badly to chemical treatments, anyway?" I have been following his advice, by-the-by, with one little addition of my own: I use antiseptic surgery soap instead of white soap, which chaps my hands. An my nose is healing beautifully, although it does feel as though I have something perpetually stuck up my nose...

Anyhoo, I came downstairs to find Danny worried half to death that my handbag had been stolen, as he had been carrying it and hadn't remembered that I had swapped baby for the handbag before going upstairs into the piercing office. Oh well, all's well that ends well. It was a fitting end to a jolly day. Here's another tribute to my beautiful nose before I go on with my tale:

Ah, so charming. I just love that red shirt.

Anyway, after the nose-piercing adventure, we went to our favorite Mar del Platense restaurant, Mambru's. Ahhhh! The delights of a full stomach! I'm going there again asap, and that's a fact! It opens at eight p.m.; we got there about 3 minutes too soon, and had to spend those three minutes sheltering from the drizzle under a gracefully arched bush over one of the porch tables. We were the first to arrive, but we soon had company. During the next 3 minutes, about 10 or 12 people began crowding around the front doors. And when the doors were opened from the inside, and the lights within switched on, people streamed inside, and by the time we reached the entrance (from about 6 yards distance), four tables were occupied, and people were crowding around the take-away counter.

A word about Mambru's. Their specialties are pizzas, hamburgers and milanesa sandwiches. And their food is known for being generous in both size and flavour. And there's a beautiful back patio covered with vines and a skylight, and cozy couched wall benches. We sat in our favorite spot, and managed to consume the monstrous mountains on our trays. Deeelicious.

Well, in all, Danny's outdone himself once again, and I've had such a wonderful birthday. I think I'd better stop talking about it before y'all get envious. I love you lots!

My Birthday...

...was a few days ago. But that doesn't matter. Today will do to talk about it. Actually, I've been really spoiled this year. Breakfast with Danny on Thursday--that was such a treat. Then on Friday (that is, my birthday) he brought me breakfast in bed--a confection of treats and little chocolate puffs. Clara and Luchi told me 'never mind lunch today, we'll take care of it' (hallelujah!!!) and then they went and conjured up some pizza--so thoughtful. After a romping afternoon with the kids, we were told to dress up elegantly for dinner... I had a lovely black evening gown laid away, which I'd been saving from before my pregnancy, and hadn't had the occasion to wear it yet. So I jumped into it and a jacket (it was a little chilly) and clomped downstairs for a delicious dinner.

Then the cakes were served. Because you see, I had told Clara of my 'tradition' of making a marble cake for my birthday each year--it being my very favorite sort of cake--and so instead of making a great big one, as is the usual, she made several dozen big cupcakes, and then laid out different colored whipped cream in little pots, garnishes, nuts, raisins, MnMs, sparkly stuff--all kinds of things. And then we all sat around and decorated our own little cakes. The pix speak for themselves.

The above is, of course, the cake I decorated for myself.

Then came the gifts. Such thoughtful people we live with here.... Luchi and Arcos got me a great big bottle of tequila with some complimentary shot glasses, knowing of my penchant for tequila-based beverages. Actually, it's been on my wishlist for like 5 years now, so I was really surprised and happy. John Michael and Clara got me a sweet lil vest (mind-readers they must be--I hadn't told them about my ruminations a few days earlier, that a vest would look so lovely over my favorite sweater), and another present which is strictly for ladies--I'll say no more! (Giggle)

Well, to cut a long story short, Happy Birthday to Me!!!

Thanks to all who sent me sweet letters and gifts--I got your letter today, Gini, and I was soo happy to receive it!--and thanks for making my birthday so very special! As you'll no doubt notice, I did not list Danny's gifts to me, and that's because we hadn't quite finished our celebration. More news later.

The Big Day

Yes, boys and girls, 24 years ago, the world changed--forever. And it would never be the same again.

And I didn't want to be born.

"What? Leave my cozy little nest? Never. I'm going to tie myself up here so you won't be able to take me out, so THERE!"

Such stubborn rebelliousness, oh my. And so, blue and not breathing, with my cord wrapped securely around my neck several times (did I think I would need a scarf?), them docs just hoisted me right out. They had to reanimate me, of course, and a short while later (in a reconciliatory gesture, I was sure) they put me in a warm cozy incubator. Nice, but a little dry, and certainly not as wonderful as mommy. Hmmm. So I analyzed the situation, and decided it might be better to behave myself so that they would let me go home. After that, my life was sheer bliss for a nice long while. Ad infinitum.

19 years later, I found myself on the verge of a merge. Literally, I mean. I had recently been invited by my present husband to join him in Argentina, and I was stalling for time. I put him in limbo until after Christmas. In the meantime, my birthday was coming up, and boy-oh-boy what a bash. Four of them, actually. This was our impersonation of Oktoberfest which we hosted in honor of the Libras: myself and my dearest Libra-Sister Joy (see earlier post, Sept. 30)

My little sister Laura reminded me of that marvelous bygone occasion by sending me these two pictures. Notice how little I've changed over the past 5 years. Don't we just rock? My little brother Josh, by the way, beat me in the beer-swigging competition. And my little sister Laura has blossomed into the flower of the family, going on 19 herself now.

More pics later, I promise. Thanks to all who've written me today! I love you all!

Prebirthday Meditations

My husband is a freelance digital artist. That means that he generally has flexible schedules. He can work all night, or all day, or in shifts--whatever suits the need.

But Friday won't work for him. And since changing dates of birth is not a feasible possibility, we opted for splitting the fun-time-together-day-out into separate slivers of time. Wednesday morning we went out for breakfast. Saturday afternoon we'll do some shopping. And then he's taking me out to dinner. Oh baby! Sunday we might go to town to celebrate Mother's Day and enjoy the confusion.

But what happened yesterday is what I would like to tell you about right now. The baby woke me up unusually early, which was, well, unusual; but that was just as well, because we had planned to leave early anyway. Luchi took Floppy for us, THANKS LUCHI!!!! We ambled off in the lovely morning sunshine to a cute little cafe down the street, and enjoyed a nice cup of coffee together, while the baby earnestly gnawed on those sturdy little sugar packets and whined for my coffee cup.

At one point while discussing what we should do to celebrate my erstwhile birthday, Danny asked me what I would like as a gift.

Now anyone who knows me slightly generally does not lack knowledge of my wishlists. I normally have an arm's length list of stuff I desire to possess. I'm actually not super possessive, but neither am I secretive with my wishes.

Anyway, I opened my mouth confidently, stopped, and gaped a bit. Danny got a little annoyed, assuming I was being modest with him (am I ever?).

But as I racked my brain, I realized that I have no true unfulfilled desires. Everything I wanted or thought I wanted, has already been granted. The only thing I really want is a Spanish Bible, but someone already told me that they'll try to get me one.

My mind kept racing, but what could I do? Aside from the everyday trinkets, I have no real needs or wants that have not already been provided for.

And it got me thinking about how marvelous God is. We're not rich, or opulent, or anything of the sort, but we don't lack for any of our needs. Paul said something like, "I have learned to abase and abound"... wait, here it is:

I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. (Philippians 4:12)

Anyway, we've been so very blessed in so many ways; I finally admitted the same to Danny, and he wholeheartedly agreed. We took some moments to thank Jesus together for His love and care, because, really, he's outdone himself again. Isn't Jesus worth living for?

Hee hee hee!!!

Some people enjoy the suspense...

Others enjoy reminders...

Ahem. Just so that nobody reading this has ANY excuse, it's my birthday tomorrow. I love getting letters. I have yet to receive a birthday cake via email, however; one that I can eat, that is. I love siamese kittens with pink or blue ribbons. And I love my baby, who is currently threatening to wake everybody else up. Ta-ta!!

Ear Doctor Visit #2

Back to the doc, back to the doc, back to the doc we go--hey ho!

Another expedition to the bumbling doc/nutsy secretary. Once again, we waited for a very VERY long time; but hallelujah, the secretary decided to shave off nearly a quarter of the price. Goodie! I think she was upset at the doctor, as he arrived nearly an hour late. ... Well, PTL!

(And this is just a sidenote:) Floppy kept exclaiming how much the secretary resembles her grandmother Gloria.

Anyway, I came better equipped this time, with an artbook and pens for my antsy three-year-old. As usual, the little girls dominated everyone's attention in the crowded waiting room; I also amused myself by teaching Floppy to wink. She still can't do it, but she will. To my further amusement, I counted the diplomas and certificates on the wall. 76, in plain sight. Wow. After 2 hours, we were the second-last ones again; it was so late that the nurses had already left for their 4-hour siesta break, and the doctor realized, to his dismay, that there wasn't anyone to help him with Floppy's earwash, so he grudgingly called in the secretary to hold Floppy.

THIS IS WHERE THE GRANDMOTHER-RESEMBLANCE CAME IN HANDY. Floppy cuddled up in her motherly arms immediately, and, somewhat frightened and wide-eyed, allowed them to use a long wicked-looking bulbous contraption to flush out her ears. By gum, what a wax buildup!! Nearly turned my stomach. Ugh! Well, once that was through, I asked for a frequency check-up, and was told to return in two weeks, and prepare Floppy by practicing with her to react to sounds when she hears them. The secretary must have seen me cringe slightly, because she assured me that she'll reduce the price every time I visit. Nice!

There's a clever poem which I'm learning to live by:

A wise old owl sat in a tree

The less he spoke, the more he'd see

The more he saw, the more he heard

Wish we could all be like that wise old bird

Something like that. Anyway, aside from asking questions and listening carefully, I silently and attentively watched the procedures, and it's very simple to emulate. So I'll be able to clean Floppy's ears out myself next time, and hallelujah.

On with the expedition! Rather than hurrying home needlessly, we ambled through the center of town, stopped for lunch at a sweet little Roma-owned joint, where an amazing little waitress kept a cool, organized head and perpetual bright smile as she juggled her way through twenty-five tables in a jam-packed lunch-rush-hour. Excellent pizza, lovely prices. Will definitely go back there.

Then we strolled leisurely down the walking street looking for a perfumery where I could get myself my birthday present. I wanted a specific shade of Lancome lipstick to replace the one I've used up, but unfortunately it's been discontinued, and that's a good thing, because I wouldn't have been able to afford the astronomical price anyway. So I settled for a similarly lovely shade (from another brand) which was more within my price range, and just as pretty, hallelujah. Even Danny approved once I got home. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a source of great satisfaction. It's the first time he's ever approved of any of my choices of lipstick.

So ends our adventures out-of-doors. Now to clean my room, sniff.