Blow me a kiss!

Looking back at some old photos I came across this one. Our youngest had just turned 4 and, after blowing out his birthday-cake candles, blew a kiss to me!

I would like to share it with you!

Graduation

Mr. 16 graduated from Year 10 last week. The photo above was taken at The Nepean River just before his celebratory formal dinner. All of his classmates were out of their usual head-to-toe school uniform. I hardly recognised any of them. The girls looked a little older than usual, the boys a little younger; all looked beautiful, innocent.

Mr. 16. driving to the venue (with Learner's plates firmly attached to the car!):


Beneath the cool exterior he was cooking: it was 38 degrees celcius!:


Mr. 16 strikes a 1940's-style pose:


Proud sister and brother:


A group shot:


Loving Aunty:


Proud Dad:


Doting Mum:


One of Mr 16's best mates ended the night singing That's Amore and all joined in with a sing-along:


I wish every one of these lovely people all the very best in their chosen path, be it a further two years of senior school study (as in Mr. 16's case) or a new start in their future career.

Bless you all, Class of 2009.

Karim

My baby brother and his beautiful wife now have their own baby, a handsome little boy whom they named Karim, after our Dad (whose 69th Birthday was yesterday).

Below is a little poem I wrote and have dedicated to the newest member of our extended family, baby Karim.

Karim

The world is your oyster
You are so young, so new,
You will have much to offer it,
And the world, you.

I see you traversing
Its extraordinary lands,
Countries and cities,
Farms and fields.

I see you climbing
Its dizzying heights,
Mountains and valleys
Plateaus and alps.

I see you sailing
Its vast, great seas
Rivers and oceans,
Antarctic to the Nile.

But most of all,
May you grow to be,

Like your namesake,
So generous, so skillful
Fun-loving and kind.

Job colours

Prison greens:

Hospital Blues - maybe this Doctor can cure your blues (or rather, freak you out):

Surgical greens:

Chef Whites:

What next...

Bank 0fficer's Beige?

Teacher's Tartans?

How about Secretary's Scarlet?

Can you make any suggestions?

Will a brick wall work magic?

Do you hit one of these often? No, not head-on, smack-bang-into-the-middle-of-a-brick-wall-leaving-you-with-a-bleeding-forehead sort of hit (tempting as that may sound) but, metaphorically speaking.

I feel like I have.

My words are all clogged up, rammed into the backs of each other, in the deep chasm that is my mind. I have paper, I have pen, I have laptop. But nothing gels no matter how hard I try. Somewhat ironic that my jumbled-mind has hit an ordered and neatly structured object. Maybe the force of the impact will somehow throw all the words, that are waiting to be written, into the air where they will miraculously work themselves out and settle into perfectly structured sentences one after the other, waiting to exit via the conveyer belts that are my hands and the motor that is my mind?

On the other hand, perhaps a bout of cake baking and house cleaning (in that order, please) are the solution?

We'll see.