Wicked Friday

The Birds in my Courtyard

No tricks here... just treats for the hungry...

Hundreds of them blacken the sky as they swarm from somewhere and landed in the courtyard foraging for food. Blackbirds on Halloween, what could be more eerie than this.

Spooky... No need for a costume, nature took care of that.

Awooooo!!!!!!

What are Fractals?

Mandelbrot Set

What are Fractals? They're everywhere, those bright, weird, beautiful shapes called fractals. But what are they, really? Fractals are geometric figures, just like rectangles, circles and squares, but fractals have special properties that those figures do not have.

This is the new geometry, something very new to me but quite fascinating. Far from the conventional Pythagorean theorem that I learned in high school.

The mathematician Benoit Mandelbrot coined the word. Watching NOVA's Hunting the Hidden Dimension the other night and previously the interview with Mandelbrot and the renowned economist Nassim Nicholas Taleb on PBS, I marvel at the applications these fractals find in almost all the disciplines - art, science and nature. The concept of repetition, self-similarity, iterations, chain reactions and the resulting chaos all make sense as they apply to the financial crisis, the functions of the organs of the body and even measurements of Carbon Dioxide absorption in forest trees.

The amazing organization of things in life, the interrelations between physics, chemistry, economics, ecology and all the disciplines are beyond my understanding! Why would anyone even link fractal geometry to market behavior and the financial crisis? But it is, and it is mind-boggling. Mandelbrot and Taleb interview

Lucky are those who have studied these and the children who are now introduced to fractals at the elementary level. I wish I had that opportunity. Look around you and be amazed.

But I guess it's never too late to learn.

Toys Were Not Us

Like clockwork, my morning started with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, a piece of bread and a slice of papaya. The ritual that followed was a quick visit to the garden and a brisk walk around the property. What a sight, the lawn is covered with a carpet of leaves after yesterday’s strong gust of winds and heavy rain. Some leaves were still hanging on to their green chlorophyll thanks to this unseasonable weather.

Another beautiful day but this time I was on the lookout for flooded walkways, detached roof shingles, broken tree limbs and fallen trees and there it was – a big branch from the Sycamore tree which belongs to the city but has now completely blocked our sidewalk. Took note of that, relayed this to the superintendent, then went on to finish my constitutional.

Passing by the dumpster, I noticed a soggy white bag left by the gate, filled with toys. After shaking off the rain water, I took the bag home and washed the toys. Some kid would find joy playing with these almost brand new collection of a variety of figures I couldn't even identify except for Mr. Potato Head.

The poor children back home in my little town came to mind. What they would give to be able to own these toys even if they're just made of plastic. Even with their suspected lead content. Which brings me back to my own childhood when Mattel, Hasbro, Fisher-Price among others were non-exist.

Paper dolls were a favorite of mine and I was lucky enough to have a doll which my mother sewed clothes for. That was the closest thing to Barbie that I owned. I remember the Maria Clara outfit handmade for her which became a model for my Home Economics class in my sixth grade.

The smell of a newly-opened box of Crayola crayons still linger in my mind; no paint brushes, silly putty or fancy learning toys. The boys had toys crafted from wood or Carnation milk boxes. They had sling shots, marbles and a collection of colorful rubber bands, hundreds of them. We read books and magazines like Liwayway and Bulaklak.

In the province, our first book was the English primer Pepe and Pilar. Much of their stories have vanished from my memory over the years (memory overload the term used nowadays), but I do remember their dog named Bantay. I wish I could still get a copy of that book to show my great grandnephews and grandnieces how I learned my first English words.

Today, the production of toys have become a flourishing industry; there's a toy for practically everything - action figures, radio-controlled vehicles, gender dolls (as in Barbie and Ken), you name it.

Reading books became out of style. Webster's has been replaced by the Urban Dictionary. MySpace took the place of letters to pen pals. Play Stations became a substitute for a game of basketball outdoors. Home theatres are preferred over a trip to the movie house with friends and families. These are the signs of the times.

Changing times and changing needs.

There is a reason and a season for everything.

But what a wonderful life it has been, even without toys!

Organic derivatives

Carter and Madelyn

Jaymin

This is the world of grandparenting.

And these are the organic derivatives from the MIT Chemistry class of '65.

My classmate Tony shares his passion with grandson little Tiger, Jaymin.

No, that's not Tony behind him.

Batman and the cute Dalmatian belong to Ver and despite the long-distance bonding, I'm sure he enjoys them a lot.

Thanks for sharing, gramps!

Nike goddess of victory

Bib 9786, that's our Carol in yesterday's Poland Spring 5 mi. run in Central Park, working her way up for the Chicago Marathon or New York's next year.

Women rule!
Did you know that Nike is the goddess of victory?
That's right, goddess, not god!
You go girl. Chariots of Fire!

Carol is well in shape for training through the shorter runs to qualify for the marathons. This may be a less competitive atmosphere, but just as vigorous as any run. Her well disciplined regimen of strict diet, flexing, weights, daily runs and of course mental conditioning are a big part of the sensible training plan.

And if you knew Carol, she'll even outdo her own goal. No fooling.
Nobody says it's not painful, but she can do it! Nike...

The Duchess

Keira Knightley played the title role in this heartbreaking love triangle. Very charming and has that shining presence, I always thought she's perfect for these costume dramas. Remember Pride and Prejudice?

It must not be easy to breathe with those corsets and heavy hoop skirts.
An easy Sunday afternoon, it was a lovely entertainment.

Great movie. The Duchess

UFO in Central Park!

Is it a UFO?
Central Park is the perfect venue for Mobile Art, a traveling international exhibition commissioned by Chanel and housed in a futuristic pavilion designed by London architect Zaha Hadid.

The space age-inspired "container" displays art celebrating the famous Chanel quilted handbags and will be traveling from NY to London, Paris, then roam the world.

I was more interested in the pavilion than its contents, but so long as we're there we might as well get in line for free admission tickets to see the exhibits. Unfortunately the roast duck soup I had for lunch took a revenge on my system so we had to abandon our place in the queue. Why do I keep ignoring the fact that my gallbladder is no longer in place to take care of all that fat?

And if that's not enough, I accidentally deleted all the good pictures I took of this UFO-looking Mobile Art while downloading to my notebook! I was a basket case to say the least. What can I say? Nobody's perfect.

Words are all I have

Andrew Sullivan successfully captured my attention in his piece Why I Blog in the November issue of The Atlantic.

When a friend introduced me to the Blogger, I was thrilled but at the same time intimidated by the eloquence and gracefulness of the many writers using this new form of medium. But since I started, I find myself hooked. No wizard at the written words and certainly fearful of the spoken one, especially in public, I manage to unleash some of this energy in me as I go through my daily experiences and encounters, by blogging.

As a friend and a family member, my phone calls come few and far in between. I'm more at ease with my pen. Following some of the great political bloggers and one really humorous one the johnsonszoo, makes for a sound reason for being inspired to write my own. It is liberating and an outlet of sort, a humble expression of my appreciation for arts and nature and my thoughts on anything interesting that comes my way.

This brings me close to my family and dearest friends and leaving their comment or feedback unheard, saves me from the hurts of being "assaulted or ridiculed" for my shortcomings as a newbie in this new world of blogosphere. For "writing out loud"....

It's words, and words are all I have....

20,000 miles away from home

Gene and Ine gave us a full acount of their visit home to the Philippines. It's not surprising that I get homesick even at my age since most of the family is there, although quite often I speak to my sisters . The time difference is no excuse, I really should be calling more frequently, better yet I'd like to visit them.

From the pictures sent by Gene, my brothers showed some signs of aging like I do, and the more I look at Kuyang the more I see myself in him. We could be mistaken for twins, if only we weren't born 15 years apart. Some say I'm the younger Antonia! Other than that, they all look healthy and happy. Dikong Rene is having a birthday the end of this month, I bet they'll have a get together in Tarlac.

Ruel and Rochelle were the hosts of another clan pig out - complete with a pig roast and goat pinapaitan! Food seems to be the center of our family's reunion, and for the boys, beer is the booster. What happens after the booze keeps flowing, is anybody's guess. Yup and us girls just keep feeding the Boys' Club so they don't conk out hungry. Down with Prohibition, these fellas wouldn't have survived that one!! That's another topic for my blog, he he he!

Some of the best and the worst conversations take place while these boys are at it, I kid you not. Oh no - no fist fights, just funny, silly talks! And of course members only - family, that is. But I love them for being good brothers and nephews and time won't change that and I truly miss them.

The almost 20-hour air travel can be pretty hard on the physique, not to mention jet-lag and the heat, but I still plan to visit. Welcome back Gene and Ine. Thanks for the books Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. After re-reading Noli last year, I can't wait to dig into El Fili.

Away from home, away from home, 20,000 miles away from home; but that is where my heart is, many a time.

October surprise

I may be alone in this but I was thrilled to learn that the second week in October is Squirrel Appreciation Week. Surprise!

Sorry folks, I missed it; in case you haven't picked up on it, I'm quite fond of this fun-to-watch creature. They're a favorite subject in my blog - this is the fourth post so far.

I don't see them as pain in the ass, actually they're quite entertaining. Have you watched them climb the trees and sometimes lay spread-eagle on the trunk? Cooling off or playing dead? I'm serious.

Have you seen them run for their lives from the feisty blue jays that dispute ownership of a tree or the yard? It is hilarious, maybe not for the squirrel who gets pecked at if it's not fast enough. This constant battle between the two seems like the US Presidential race! Did you see them roast each other at the Alfred E. Smith dinner, that was hysterical.

It's okay my friend, have it your way, eat the acorns and I'll clean up after you; but you know it's not fair - you chewed on my magnolia blossoms then you discovered they're not tasty so you left all the buds with holes! Now the petals look like slices of white Swiss cheese, you!!!

Okay, okay, this is weird, but I do appreciate these rodents. They make me smile.

Not Ringo Starr

"If you see something, say something". It's a NYC Transit slogan and we won't go into the details of what it means, let Homeland Security take care of that. Mine is a different version, I saw something this morning and now I'm compelled to share it with my readers, so you'll have an idea what time management means to New Yorkers.

Stare at someone in the subways and you either get shot, yelled at, slapped with a rolled copy of the NY Post, spat on or get skinned with HOTTTT coffee. Worst-case scenario - all of the above. And that's why I either look down, bury my eyes in a book, pretend to be asleep or in the summer I hide behind my shades and secretly look on, since I value my life.

It's rude, I know, but today I just couldn't help it. I stared, but let me explain why.

A big guy the size of Lou Ferrigno sat across from me. He was sporting the NY signature all black outfit, carrying a tote bag with the Virgin logo, airlines or the record store I don't know. Seated, he fastened what looked like a skateboarding kneepad on his left knee, where else, then proceeded to take out a pair of sticks from his bag. What is he to do now? 'Took out a newspaper folded in quarter and placed it on his right knee. While reading the paper he started striking the knee pad with the sticks as if playing the drums.

My first thought was, he's got a folding bike inside his tote bag, he's going to ride. Another was, he's got arthritis and that must be one of the contraptions with therapeutic magnets in them. But no! He was practicing some drum beats I guess, but did you ever?

No sounds were produced, it must be made of rubber, I mean the kneecap. I craned to see what the name of the product is, upside down from my angle it appeared as "Craftsman". Isn't that the company that makes those tools sold at Sears or Home Depot?

So they were drum sticks. So he was actually wearing a construction protective gear and using it as drum to practice. How could I not get that right away?

"Hey, you never know". That's another slogan, this time of the NY Lottery. And my point, you ask? This big guy may be working in construction but he could also be playing at the Blue Note or some other big jazzy place. He's not Ringo Starr but who knows he must be a big name too!

Hey, I may have swiped the picture from somewhere, but I didn't make up this story. Ask any commuter, NYC never sleeps, it's alive with stories.

Pristine beauty & fragrance

Delicate flower
Velvet petals

Vibrant white
Pristine beauty
Sweet fragrance

Beautiful bud
Fruit and seed pod
Cone of new life
Magnificent and grand

Magnolia Grandiflora!

Marathon Man

Our family knew he had it in him. He had a perfect athletic training as a child, dark-skinned, lightfoot, long-legged, running after the other kids, chasing them away for no reason. Ped was the bully with a side kick namely his younger cousin George! Boy, did they get into a lot of trouble, using other kids their age as punching bags, then running away as fast as they can, climbing up trees to hide... It's always fun to hear about their escapades, but I'm sure they got some spanking from my brother.

They’re good little nephews just too “playful” or mischievous? If running errands for the uncles and aunties, (and they had plenty - of uncles and aunties and errands too), count as sports training, that too helped him prepare for this.

This time, it is no "bull__it", rather was a serious goal. Ped’s marathon debut, the prestigious 26.2 mi. about 42.19 km or 385 yards (for the metrics in some of you) Chicago Marathon 2008, finishing in 4:08:50 and ranking 7956 out of over 40,000 deserves a gold medal from the family.

Woohoo!!! He had been training for just a year and doing all the local half-runs in NYC but what a record for a novice! Carol's family and friends in Indiana lined the course starting in Grant Park, not to mention Marc's buddies who also cheered on for Pop.

Guys, I heard you had pre and post-run parties, goodbye to runner's grubs for a while, ha Ped? For shlepping them to and from La Guardia Airport, Carol and Ped had a bagful of chestnuts for me from the backyard of the Samalios. Thanks Jun-Jun, for roasting them already, there's nothing like homegrown nuts, easy to peel too.

Our Marathon Man, number 18601. Watch out Boston!

Red Storm homecoming

SJU was hosting Villanova in men's soccer, at the same time we were in campus for the alumni homecoming. There was no red carpet rolled out for us, none of my grad school classmates were there, most attendees looked young enough to be in the roster of recent grads and it was a bit cold for me to enjoy the outdoor Italian feast.

No trumpets were blaring either as we signed up for registration; the band was playing I guess for the home and visiting soccer team. Boohoo! Where is everyone? Was it because of the Columbus day weekend or did all of my 20 classmates find CEO-paying jobs and settle outside NY? How about the rest of the school? Maybe they skipped the food part and came to watch the soccer game instead. Too bad we couldn't stay for that, my less than cooperative stuffy nose spoiled it all, we even had to eat inside the car it was too cold for me outdoors. It was disappointing.

The only consolation is that we picked up freebies of sorts that'll probably just end up hidden in the drawer: sports shirts, seat cushions, mouse pads, mini flash light, the usual giveaways at these functions, all in SJU colors of blazing red. A coincidence that my other alma mater MIT's color is also cardinal red. Driving around the campus, we found most of the familiar halls still standing, reminders of the countless hours spent pouring over books in the Library and then fervently praying in the chapel for more than just a passing grade.

Fond memories of my SJU days 25 years ago when I was still hungry for more advanced learning, also when my brain was still made up of live functioning cells successfully connecting to one another. Now my brain is tired, I can feel it hurts even if it's not supposed to. Where have all my classmates gone? Adam? Mary Skelly?

The Road Not Taken 10.10.70

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference”

*** Robert Frost***

At about noon, on October 10, 1970, at the old Manila International Airport, I boarded a Japan Airlines 747 bound for Newark, New Jersey. Filled with fear and anxiety, hope was also there for the start of a new beginning. Met by family at Newark Airport, it was a crisp, colorful Fall day when I arrived.

Something almost made me want to pass up this great opportunity to come to the US. But I didn't. When I arrived in October 1970 I had buried all hopes of fulfilling the other part of my dream. New challenges faced me - the struggle to start a career on foreign soil and to cope with a recent loss. Somehow, we need to make these leaps of faith in order to survive and I did.

I'm no longer interested in searching for answers that justify all.

If life is a series of destinations, I guess I didn't do too bad for my part.

Men at work

No, these guys are not learning how to crawl, mining for loose change or praying to "the one and only God". Year-end repairs and improvements have been going on for the past weeks in the complex and these are the hard-working construction workers who are rebuilding what they have just been told to demolish!

These men must have one of the most challenging jobs – imagine if you screw up laying the bricks and realize it after the cement has settled? You’re dead, break it up and start all over again or finish with stucco? Despite all the barricade and caution signs, paw prints and footprints would have permanently decorated our sidewalks if they didn’t fix it in time. I’ll stick to crocheting or knitting. If I mess up, one tug and the whole sweater is undone, yet I get to reuse the same yarn.

My neighbor Philip has ushered me to the male-dominated world of construction, not Lego blocks or Erector sets, but that field where some of the terminology I can’t even pronounce. Philip knows his fascia, overhang, lintel, expansion joints and that sort of thing which I try to learn thru his “show and tell” teaching method. Yesterday, we walked over (he actually bribed me with some pastries from the bakeshop of his girlfriend Susan) to one of the construction sites in the complex, where everything to me looks like cement, bricks, limestone and debris from the demolition. I'm thinking our poor lawn suffered much from being trampled on. In details he explained the purpose of this and that, making sure I understand that it is “slurry” not “silly putty” and you say “gauge” not “thickness”.

If you knew Philip you can guess how long we were standing in front of all this mess, admiring how straight the lines are, the pitch just perfect for water drainage and all that jazz; then just like a nutty professor he summarizes what was said to reinforce everything. He’s one compulsive lecturer, nothing wrong with that, he’s very smart, but I’ll freeze my butt if he doesn’t get to the point quick! I just realized the word “pitch” can mean so many different things, look it up if you don’t trust me, and if you already knew this, then my excuse is hey, English is not my mother tongue, so shush! I doubt if I can do better in my native language.

If he’s looking to me to inspect this project while he is at work, he’s in for disappointment, all I can promise to do is ask stupid questions or take lousy pictures of the wreckage. No one expects me to do this; I’m just a volunteer here but I’m sure my brother would be so impressed if he hears me using these big words Philip taught me.

What have I learned from all these? First, hats off to all mason workers - their job is not a piece of cake. Secondly, Philip knows his stuff and is an excellent teacher. So long as he doesn’t make me climb the roof to learn all about "pitch" and "pond", we shall remain good friends.

O'Cello

Ignore the post date, this took place on Friday, October 3rd.

The scene was the shuttle station from Grand Central to Times Square. Rose, Chong & I just left the Grand Central area where Ped treated us to huge bowls of sizzling hot Peking duck soup. Three pieces of shu mai, noodles , strips of bok choy leaves and what looked like quarter of a duck swimming in a tasty broth (I'm sure MSG-rich) filled our hungry tummy. Holy cow, or maybe holy duck, duck was so good! What was Ped thinking - we just had a Wall Street hungry man's meal!

Next stop is the South Street Seaport where I'll take them to see Olafur Eliasson's NYC Waterfalls. Huffing and puffing after a heavy meal, we decided the best way is to take the S shuttle to cross town. By this time Rose is dragging her feet already since it's almost her naptime. With all that MSG, that made it even worse, but she plans to go back for more of the same, with her sister Rita who cooks the best shark fin soup. What's wrong with this picture? You're treating her to fast food Chinese restaurant cooking? That'd be a big letdown for Rita.

Beautiful sounds filled the underground - my head turned, I walked a few steps, then took a second look. It's not a conventional cello this young fella was playing. I walked back to watch him play and gentle nod was his cue to "Go ahead, it's okay to take my picture".

It turned out to be a homemade stripped-down electric cello. Did you ever see one of this? This guy Sean Grissom calls himself The Cajun Cellist, and like many of the Julliard School grads takes this as the first step. As part of the MUNY (Music Under New York) program, he plays his music underground and hopes to collect a dollar here and there from music-loving commuters as their note of thanks. As soon as we got home, I looked him up and he's quite talented it seems. He's done a few performances including once at the Kennedy Center, one other show he did was entitled O'Cello.

As if we didn't have enough of Peking in the duck soup, we were greeted by a tall ship named Peking docked by the Seaport. Tourists made up most of the bystanders and the picture-taking crowd trying to get a last look at the Waterfalls before the artwork is taken down next week. Walking around we spotted the Sedutto ice cream stand and don't be so shocked these three little women are also three hungry ones! You got it, those few blocks we walked from the station burned all the calories we had for lunch, one wonders what kind of metabolism we have even at this golden age. (We're not revealing our age.)

A large waffle cone pistachio ice cream, (who knows where all this appetite is coming from), was what I had, and so did Rose while Chong had the espresso. I said Rose should have that instead so she could keep her eyes open. I felt sick after eating all that, really it's a sin if you saw how much of that soup I gulped down! What a pigout!

I conked out on the cold subway seat on the way home, darn MSG must still be working. Even the quick stop at Brookstone didn't interest me anymore, I just wanna be in bed. And yes I finally did, right after checking out Sean's cello music on YouTube. Ah, Cello!

"Dance for me, Salome!"

Karita Mattila a soprano from Finland, sang the title role of Salome. What an explosive voice, act and dance performance, although I would have preferred the traditional stage set .

There are traditional and updated interpretations of the The Dance of The Seven Veils, choose which one you feel suits your belief, but for me the actual sensual dance is just as complicated and mystical as its meaning. Richard Strauss' music picked up every subtle movement and the artistic climax yet I couldn't bring myself to accept this change to a contemporary stage set especially as Salome sheds each of the seven pieces of clothing from her modern-day pantsuit. Creative as it was, it seems that the flavor of the dance in the Salome spirit has been lost in this variation.

No question about it, the music and the singing superb. All the elaborations on this biblical tale of the execution of John the Baptist made up this new production of the Salome by the Metropolitan Opera and is another success story. Joined by our friend Dorothy and her friend Mildred, we enjoyed the performance.

Tickled pink

This pretty baby named Christina Maria born on August 18th, 7 pounds, 3 ounces & 21 inches belongs to Spiro and Angeliki.

"Help me out of these Ugg boots, the fuzzy stuff tickle my feet, gimme my pink booties".
"This sucks, I don't get to pick my own wardrobe! "
"Who are you and why you bloggin' 'bout me?"

Easy girl, I guess Daddy didn't prepare you for this ha?
I think you look like Spiro.
Grannies on both sides are just crazy about you, they don't know when it's time to go home!

Isn't she cute?

Gotcha!

Enjoying yet another nippy fall day at 50F and sunny, I caught my resident friend scampering from tree to tree. Hey family, I want a better camera than this, get my drift?

Tata for now..

Grande Flora

Species: Magnolia grandiflora. I love magnolias and while I'm learning from others about them, I'm far from being an expert, but I can tell you this "baby" here is newsworthy!

I had no idea magnolias of this cultivar bloom in autumn. The large buds, wrapped in a brown sheath are almost as long as the waxy leaves. Let's hope those squirrels don't cheat me of the fully bloomed white saucer or tulip-shaped blossoms. They seem to be in the attack mode these days even if they have plenty of acorns to stash away. Greedy little creatures, stick to your messy seeds! You have certainly buried enough so now we have baby oak trees sprouting all over. Shooo!

There were about 6 to 8 buds when I last looked, which isn't bad for its first year and I hope Raly will make it back from Israel in time to see this baby tree in bloom. She gave me this 3-foot tree in July which in turn I planted in the condominium courtyard for everyone to enjoy.

Where its at, the magnolia gets its full dose of the sun, rich soil and plenty of water. While we have our irrigation system, this sucker can really drink, so I've trained Andrew our security guard to keep an eye on the tree. Ferrying water to keep this plant happy may not be part of his job, but he sure has gotten the hang of it. Why him and not the gardener? I figured he does foot patrol and walks around the tree area quite often, it's just convenient.

It's fulfilling to be able to spread the gardening bug around. Two to three years from now this magnolia tree will be the center of attraction here when it has grown a wide canopy and in full bloom! You bet I'll be around to share those snapshots.

The Johnson's Zoo

Introducing Thomas Quentin (formerly Nonameyet), David and Peter of the Johnson's Zoo.

Nonameyet is Allamenow!

You’re absolutely right, the name Nonameyet suits you fine, only if you plan to stay as a cuddly baby all your life. Don’t get me wrong, the Quentin I know was an old man from my hometown who played the banjo and the violin in a local ensemble we call the Rondalla ; some of my good friends are named Thomas and they are perfectly normal earthlings. Alright, alright, I’m sold, 'gotten over it - you are Tom from here on!

Do you wonder how I met the soon-to-be-the-Brady-Bunch-of-Heidelberg family?

On Sept. 19th, my 6:00 AM coffee date with my laptop started with a hair-pulling experience while doing some edits on my drafts and the darn changes won’t update properly. Tweak and SAVE – Nada. Error-try again, I was prompted! Still Nada. What the heck! The SAVE function has gone haywire. What have I done, have I violated any of the terms of use that eBlogger had to punish me this way?

Suddenly it occurred to me that there is such a thing as the Help Center, duh! But there’s no guarantee that I’ll even get heard and since I’m not a member of the Help Group, what do they care. No matter, I tried anyway.

I had to comb through tons of threads and posts from irate users who were having the same issues as mine. It was a global problem, I was relieved; an astounding revelation that I’m not stupid after all. I stumbled on a message from an author of thejohnsonszoo. Catchy name, I thought and my “animal instinct” got me drawn to the blog site.

Hesitantly, I perused the site. What a find! The author is using the same template I have. I don’t usually make a habit of blindly surfing the web and scouring for blogs worthy of my time, but here it was - serendipity, I couldn’t stop reading the posts. Eureka! What an interesting family, the father tells it like it is, pokes pun at the kids and his wife, how much fun could that be? Their Ladder Talk is a segment of the blog I always look forward to reading.

Having some guilt feelings of “intruding” in this great family’s affairs, I decided to follow them privately. Tell me "following" is not synonymous to "stalking" or is it?

Thanks Papa Johnson for allowing me to post a picture of the kids in my site. Saves me the trouble of having to write you for photo credits and permission. No copyrights violated, promise. I’m sure my family and closest friends will be happy to “ meet” your lovely kids.

Goodbye.