I eat yogurt, because it is good for me. Not because I like it. That was... until I discovered Krema Yogurt. I didn't buy the low fat or no fat version. I bought the full fat flavoured yogurt and GOSH, is it good.
Check it out. Yummy!
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Playing with light
The girls posed for me the other day. The light coming in our front window was pretty interesting so we had a quick photo shoot. I didn't even brush their hair!! HAHA!
My son didn't participate, he was sick. We've all been sick. He is just the last one to go through it - poor boy!
Here are a couple shots of my girlies.
My son didn't participate, he was sick. We've all been sick. He is just the last one to go through it - poor boy!
Here are a couple shots of my girlies.
Saturday, November 08, 2014
In remembrance
In my mind I still see it
The kind old face
The wire-back chairs
I feel it
The hot sun on my skin
The wetness at the back of my neck
I smell it
The faint waft of tropical flowers
The strong smell of a cigar
The smoke from the cigar circling up gently
The grey haired man smiling gently
His voice soft
I also remember the warnings
NEVER ask your Granddad about the war
DO not talk about it
Yet here we are
In a quiet garden
Thousands and thousands of miles away from his home country
Surrounded by his memories
He shares his memories
He speaks softly
without bitterness
with wisdom
I feel so blessed
My young heart not even truly recognizing the value
I'm so naïve
Life hasn't hit me yet
Heartache is a concept
He shares his memories
My mind swims
Some things I can see, imagine
Some I can't
...
Time has passed
I'm older
wiser
a bit more scarred
And yet I've never lived through a war as they did
But we've had our own battles
Our own losses
Now I remember
I sit in my home with my children
surrounded by noise
distraction
and I remember
An old man who shared
The kind old face
The wire-back chairs
I feel it
The hot sun on my skin
The wetness at the back of my neck
I smell it
The faint waft of tropical flowers
The strong smell of a cigar
The smoke from the cigar circling up gently
The grey haired man smiling gently
His voice soft
I also remember the warnings
NEVER ask your Granddad about the war
DO not talk about it
Yet here we are
In a quiet garden
Thousands and thousands of miles away from his home country
Surrounded by his memories
He shares his memories
He speaks softly
without bitterness
with wisdom
I feel so blessed
My young heart not even truly recognizing the value
I'm so naïve
Life hasn't hit me yet
Heartache is a concept
He shares his memories
My mind swims
Some things I can see, imagine
Some I can't
...
Time has passed
I'm older
wiser
a bit more scarred
And yet I've never lived through a war as they did
But we've had our own battles
Our own losses
Now I remember
I sit in my home with my children
surrounded by noise
distraction
and I remember
An old man who shared
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